Internet Shakespeare Editions

About this text

  • Title: Two Noble Kinsmen (Quarto, 1634)

  • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Two Noble Kinsmen (Quarto, 1634)

    The Two Noble Kinsmen.
    I may be prowd. She takes strong note of me,
    Hath made me neere her; and this beuteous Morne
    (The prim'st of all the yeare) presents me with
    A brace of horses, two such Steeds might well
    1330Be by a paire of Kings backt, in a Field
    That their crownes titles tride: Alas, alas
    Poore Cosen Palamon, poore prisoner, thou
    So little dream'st upon my fortune, that
    Thou thinkst thy selfe, the happier thing, to be
    1335So neare Emilia, me thou deem'st at Thebs,
    And therein wretched, although free; But if
    Thou knew'st my Mistris breathd on me, and that
    I ear'd her language, livde in her eye; O Coz
    What passion would enclose thee.
    1340Enter Palamon as out of a Bush, with his Shackles: bends
    his fist at Arcite.
    Palamon. Traytor kinseman,
    Thou shouldst perceive my passion, if these signes
    Of prisonment were off me, and this hand
    1345But owner of a Sword: By all othes in one
    I, and the iustice of my love would make thee
    A confest Traytor, o thou most persidious
    That ever gently lookd the voydes of honour.
    That eu'r bore gentle Token; falsest Cosen
    1350That ever blood made kin, call'st thou hir thine?
    Ile prove it in my Shackles, with these hands,
    Void of appointment, that thou ly'st, and art
    A very theefe in love, a Chaffy Lord
    Nor worth the name of villaine: had I a Sword
    1355And these house clogges away.
    Arc. Deere Cosin Palamon,
    Pal. Cosoner Arcite, give me language, such
    As thou hast shewd me feate.
    Arc. Not finding in
    1360The circuit of my breast, any grosse stuffe
    To forme me like your blazon, holds me to
    This gentlenesse of answer; tis your passion
    That thus mistakes, the which to you being enemy,
    Cannot to me be kind: honor, and honestie
    I