EMILIA. Ile have a gowne full of ’em, and of these; This is a pretty colour, wilt not doe Rarely upon a Skirt, wench? WOMAN. Deinty, Madam. ARCITE. Cosen, Cosen, how doe you, Sir? Why, Palamon? PALAMON. Never till now I was in prison, Arcite. ARCITE. Why whats the matter, Man? PALAMON. Behold, and wonder. By heaven, shee is a Goddesse. ARCITE. Ha. PALAMON. Doe reverence. She is a Goddesse, Arcite. EMILIA. Of all Flowres, me thinkes a Rose is best. WOMAN. Why, gentle Madam? EMILIA. It is the very Embleme of a Maide. For when the west wind courts her gently, How modestly she blowes, and paints the Sun, With her chaste blushes! When the North comes neere her, Rude and impatient, then, like Chastity, Shee lockes her beauties in her bud againe, And leaves him to base briers. WOMAN. Yet, good Madam, Sometimes her modesty will blow so far She fals for’t: a Mayde, If shee have any honour, would be loth To take example by her. EMILIA. Thou art wanton. ARCITE. She is wondrous faire. PALAMON. She is beauty extant. EMILIA. The Sun grows high, lets walk in: keep these flowers; Weele see how neere Art can come neere their colours. I am wondrous merry hearted, I could laugh now. WOMAN. I could lie downe, I am sure. EMILIA. And take one with you? WOMAN. That’s as we bargaine, Madam. EMILIA. Well, agree then. [Exeunt Emilia and woman.] PALAMON. What thinke you of this beauty? ARCITE. Tis a rare one. PALAMON. Is’t but a rare one? ARCITE. Yes, a matchles beauty. PALAMON. Might not a man well lose himselfe and love her? ARCITE. I cannot tell what you have done, I have; Beshrew mine eyes for’t: now I feele my Shackles. PALAMON. You love her, then? ARCITE. Who would not? PALAMON. And desire her? ARCITE. Before my liberty. PALAMON. I saw her first. ARCITE. That’s nothing. PALAMON. But it shall be. ARCITE. I saw her too. PALAMON. Yes, but you must not love her. ARCITE. I will not as you doe, to worship her, As she is heavenly, and a blessed Goddes; I love her as a woman, to enjoy her: So both may love. PALAMON. You shall not love at all. ARCITE. Not love at all! Who shall deny me? PALAMON. I, that first saw her; I, that tooke possession First with mine eyes of all those beauties In her reveald to mankinde: if thou lou’st her, Or entertain’st a hope to blast my wishes, Thou art a Traytour, Arcite, and a fellow False as thy Title to her: friendship, blood, And all the tyes betweene us I disclaime, If thou once thinke upon her. ARCITE. Yes, I love her, And if the lives of all my name lay on it, I must doe so; I love her with my soule: If that will lose ye, farewell, Palamon; I say againe, I love, and in loving her maintaine I am as worthy and as free a lover, And have as just a title to her beauty As any Palamon or any living That is a mans Sonne. PALAMON. Have I cald thee friend?