[Enter Arcite.]
ARCITE
Banished the kingdom? ’Tis a benefit,
A mercy I must thank ’em for; but banished
The free enjoying of that face I die for,
O, ’twas a studied punishment, a death
Beyond imagination, such a vengeance
That, were I old and wicked, all my sins
Could never pluck upon me. Palamon,
Thou hast the start now; thou shalt stay and see
Her bright eyes break each morning ’gainst thy window
And let in life into thee; thou shalt feed
Upon the sweetness of a noble beauty
That nature ne’er exceeded nor ne’er shall.
Good gods, what happiness has Palamon!
Twenty to one, he’ll come to speak to her;
And if she be as gentle as she’s fair,
I know she’s his; he has a tongue will tame
Tempests and make the wild rocks wanton.
Come what can come,
The worst is death; I will not leave the kingdom.
I know mine own is but a heap of ruins,
And no redress there. If I go, he has her.
I am resolved another shape shall make me
Or end my fortunes. Either way I am happy.
I’ll see her and be near her, or no more.
[Enter four Countrymen, and one with a garland before them.]
FIRST COUNTRYMAN

My masters, I’ll be there, that’s certain.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN

And I’ll be there.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN

And I.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Why, then, have with you, boys. ’Tis but a chiding.
Let the plough play today; I’ll tickle ’t out
Of the jades’ tails tomorrow.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
I am sure
To have my wife as jealous as a turkey,
But that’s all one. I’ll go through; let her mumble.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
Clap her aboard tomorrow night, and stow her,
And all’s made up again.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
Ay, do but put
A fescue in her fist and you shall see her
Take a new lesson out and be a good wench.
Do we all hold against the Maying?
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Hold?
What should ail us?
THIRD COUNTRYMAN

Arcas will be there.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
And Sennois.
And Rycas; and three better lads ne’er danced
Under green tree. And ye know what wenches, ha?
But will the dainty domine, the schoolmaster,
Keep touch, do you think? For he does all, ye know.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
He’ll eat a hornbook ere he fail. Go to;
The matter’s too far driven between him
And the tanner’s daughter to let slip now;
And she must see the Duke, and she must dance too.
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN

Shall we be lusty?

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
All the boys in Athens
Blow wind i’ th’ breech on ’s. And here I’ll be,
And there I’ll be, for our town, and here again,
And there again. Ha, boys, hey for the weavers!
FIRST COUNTRYMAN

This must be done i’ th’ woods.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN

O, pardon me.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN
By any means; our thing of learning says so—
Where he himself will edify the Duke
Most parlously in our behalfs. He’s excellent i’ th’ woods;
Bring him to th’ plains, his learning makes no cry.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN
We’ll see the sports, then every man to ’s tackle;
And, sweet companions, let’s rehearse, by any means,
Before the ladies see us, and do sweetly,
And God knows what may come on ’t.
FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Content; the sports once ended, we’ll perform.
Away, boys, and hold.
ARCITE

By your leaves, honest friends: pray you, whither go you?

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN

Whither? Why, what a question’s that?

ARCITE
Yes, ’tis a question
To me that know not.
THIRD COUNTRYMAN

To the games, my friend.

SECOND COUNTRYMAN

Where were you bred, you know it not?

ARCITE
Not far, sir;
Are there such games today?
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
Yes, marry, are there,
And such as you never saw; the Duke himself
Will be in person there.
ARCITE

What pastimes are they?

SECOND COUNTRYMAN

Wrestling, and running.—’Tis a pretty fellow.

THIRD COUNTRYMAN

Thou wilt not go along?

ARCITE

Not yet, sir.

FOURTH COUNTRYMAN
Well, sir,
Take your own time. Come, boys.
FIRST COUNTRYMAN
My mind misgives me,
This fellow has a vengeance trick o’ th’ hip;
Mark how his body’s made for ’t.
SECOND COUNTRYMAN
I’ll be hanged, though,
If he dare venture. Hang him, plum porridge!
He wrestle? He roast eggs! Come, let’s be gone, lads.
[Exeunt Countrymen.]
ARCITE
This is an offered opportunity
I durst not wish for. Well I could have wrestled—
The best men called it excellent—and run
Swifter than wind upon a field of corn,
Curling the wealthy ears, never flew. I’ll venture,
And in some poor disguise be there. Who knows
Whether my brows may not be girt with garlands,
And happiness prefer me to a place
Where I may ever dwell in sight of her?
[Exit Arcite.]