688Know not: Looke yonder they are; that's

689Arcite lookes out.

690Daugh. No Sir, no, that's Palamon: Arcite is the

691Lower of the twaine; you may perceive a part

692Of him.

693Iai. Goe too, leave your pointing; they would not

694Make us their object; out of their sight.

695Daugh. It is a holliday to looke on them: Lord, the

696Diffrence of men. Exeunt,

698Pal. How doe you Noble Cosen?

699Arcite. How doe you Sir?

700Pal. Why strong inough to laugh at misery,

701And beare the chance of warre yet, we are prisoners

702I feare for ever Cosen.

703Arcite. I beleeve it,

704And to that destiny have patiently

705Laide up my houre to come.

706Pal. Oh Cosen Arcite,

707Where is Thebs now? where is our noble Country?

708Where are our friends, and kindreds? never more

709Must we behold those comforts, never see

710The hardy youthes strive for the Games of honour

711(Hung with the painted favours of their Ladies)

712Like tall Ships under saile: then start among'st 'em

713And as an Eastwind leave 'em all behinde us,

714Like lazy Clowdes, whilst Palamon and Arcite,

715Even in the wagging of a wanton leg

716Out-stript the peoples praises, won the Garlands,

717Ere they have time to wish 'em ours. O never

718Shall we two exercise, like Twyns of honour,

719Our Armes againe, and feele our fyry horses

720Like proud Seas under us, our good Swords, now

721(Better the red-eyd god of war nev'r were)

722Bravishd our sides, like age must run to rust,

723And decke the Temples of those gods that hate us,

D2 These