The Two Noble Kinsmen · William Shakespeare
SCENE V. An open place in Athens
A short flourish of cornets and shouts within. Enter Theseus, Hippolyta, Pirithous, Emilia; Arcite in disguise as a countryman, with a garland, Attendants, and others. THESEUS. You have done worthily. I have not seen, Since Hercules, a man of tougher sinews. Whate’er you are, you run the best and wrestle, That these times can allow. ARCITE. I am proud to please you. THESEUS. What country bred you? ARCITE. This; but far off, Prince. THESEUS. Are you a gentleman? ARCITE. My father said so; And to those gentle uses gave me life. THESEUS. Are you his heir? ARCITE. His youngest, sir. THESEUS. Your father Sure is a happy sire then. What profess you? ARCITE. A little of all noble qualities. I could have kept a hawk and well have hallowed To a deep cry of dogs. I dare not praise My feat in horsemanship, yet they that knew me Would say it was my best piece; last, and greatest, I would be thought a soldier. THESEUS. You are perfect. PIRITHOUS. Upon my soul, a proper man. EMILIA. He is so. PIRITHOUS. How do you like him, lady? HIPPOLYTA. I admire him. I have not seen so young a man so noble, If he say true, of his sort. EMILIA. Believe, His mother was a wondrous handsome woman; His face, methinks, goes that way.
HIPPOLYTA. But his body And fiery mind illustrate a brave father. PIRITHOUS. Mark how his virtue, like a hidden sun, Breaks through his baser garments. HIPPOLYTA. He’s well got, sure. THESEUS. What made you seek this place, sir? ARCITE. Noble Theseus, To purchase name and do my ablest service To such a well-found wonder as thy worth; For only in thy court, of all the world, Dwells fair-eyed Honour. PIRITHOUS. All his words are worthy. THESEUS. Sir, we are much indebted to your travel, Nor shall you lose your wish.—Pirithous, Dispose of this fair gentleman. PIRITHOUS. Thanks, Theseus. Whate’er you are, you’re mine, and I shall give you To a most noble service: to this lady, This bright young virgin; pray, observe her goodness. You have honoured her fair birthday with your virtues, And, as your due, you’re hers; kiss her fair hand, sir. ARCITE. Sir, you’re a noble giver.—Dearest beauty, Thus let me seal my vowed faith. [_He kisses her hand._] When your servant, Your most unworthy creature, but offends you, Command him die, he shall. EMILIA. That were too cruel. If you deserve well, sir, I shall soon see ’t. You’re mine, and somewhat better than your rank I’ll use you. PIRITHOUS. I’ll see you furnished, and because you say You are a horseman, I must needs entreat you This afternoon to ride, but ’tis a rough one.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.