cried, 'Ha!' Arcite rose up, crying, 'Dear cousin, what is the
matter?' when he too was stricken to the heart by the shaft of her
beauty. Then the prisoners began to dispute as to which had the better
right to love her. Palamon said he had seen her first; Arcite said
that in love each man fought for himself; and so they disputed day by
day. Now, it so happened that at this time the Duke Perotheus came to
visit his old playfellow and friend Theseus, and at his intercession
Arcite was liberated, on the condition that on pain of death he should
never again be found in the Athenian dominions. Then the two knights
grieved in their hearts. 'What matters liberty?' said Arcite,--'I am a
banished man! Palamon in his dungeon is happier than I. He can see
Emily and be gladdened by her beauty!' 'Woe is me!' said Palamon;
'here must I remain in durance. Arcite is abroad; he may make sharp
war on the Athenian border, and win Emily by the sword.' When Arcite
returned to his native city he became so thin and pale with sorrow that
his friends scarcely knew him. One night the god Mercury appeared to
him in a dream and told him to return to Athens, for in that city
destiny had shaped an end of his woes. He arose next morning and went.
He entered as a menial into the service of the Duke Theseus, and in a
short time was promoted to be page of the chamber to Emily the bright.
Meanwhile, by the help of a friend, Palamon, who had drugged his jailer
with spiced wine, made his escape, and, as morning began to dawn, he
hid himself in a grove. That very morning Arcite had ridden from
Athens to gather some green branches to do honour to the month of May,
and entered the grove in which Palamon was concealed. When he had
gathered his green branches he sat down, and, after the manner of
lovers (who have no constancy of spirits), he began to pour forth his
sorrows to the empty air. Palamon, knowing his voice, started up with
a white face: 'False traitor Arcite! now I have found thee. Thou hast
deceived the Duke Theseus! I am the lover of Emily, and thy mortal
foe! Had I a weapon, one of us should never leave this grove alive!'
'By God, who sitteth above!' cried the fierce Arcite, 'were it not that
thou art sick and mad for love, I would slay thee here with my own
hand! Meats, and drinks, and bedding I shall bring thee to-night,
tomorrow swords and two suits of armour: take thou the better, leave me
the worse, and then let us see who