EMILIA. Halfe sights saw That Arcite was no babe; god’s lyd, his richnes And costlines of spirit look’t through him, it could No more be hid in him then fire in flax, Then humble banckes can goe to law with waters, That drift windes force to raging: I did thinke Good Palamon would miscarry; yet I knew not Why I did thinke so; Our reasons are not prophets, When oft our fancies are. They are comming off: Alas, poore Palamon! [Cornets.] [Enter Theseus, Hipolita, Pirithous, Arcite as victor, and attendants, &c.] THESEUS. Lo, where our Sister is in expectation, Yet quaking, and unsetled.—Fairest Emily, The gods by their divine arbitrament Have given you this Knight; he is a good one As ever strooke at head. Give me your hands; Receive you her, you him; be plighted with A love that growes, as you decay. ARCITE. Emily, To buy you, I have lost what’s deerest to me, Save what is bought, and yet I purchase cheapely, As I doe rate your value. THESEUS. O loved Sister, He speakes now of as brave a Knight as ere Did spur a noble Steed: Surely, the gods Would have him die a Batchelour, least his race Should shew i’th world too godlike: His behaviour So charmed me, that me thought Alcides was To him a sow of lead: if I could praise Each part of him to’th all I have spoke, your Arcite Did not loose by’t; For he that was thus good Encountred yet his Better. I have heard Two emulous Philomels beate the eare o’th night With their contentious throates, now one the higher, Anon the other, then againe the first, And by and by out breasted, that the sence Could not be judge betweene ’em: So it far’d Good space betweene these kinesmen; till heavens did Make hardly one the winner. Weare the Girlond With joy that you have won: For the subdude, Give them our present Iustice, since I know Their lives but pinch ’em; Let it here be done. The Sceane’s not for our seeing, goe we hence, Right joyfull, with some sorrow.—Arme your prize, I know you will not loose her.—Hipolita, I see one eye of yours conceives a teare The which it will deliver. [Florish.] EMILIA. Is this wynning? Oh all you heavenly powers, where is your mercy? But that your wils have saide it must be so, And charge me live to comfort this unfriended, This miserable Prince, that cuts away A life more worthy from him then all women, I should, and would, die too. HIPPOLITA. Infinite pitty, That fowre such eies should be so fixd on one That two must needes be blinde fort. THESEUS. So it is. [Exeunt.] Scaena 4. (The same; a Block prepared.) [Enter Palamon and his Knightes pyniond: Iaylor, Executioner, &c. Gard.]