Arcite thinks strategically and speaks elegantly — he structures arguments in neat parallels and tends to wrap up conclusions efficiently. Watch for his habit of accepting difficult realities with a kind of athletic equanimity, as if life is a contest he intends to run well regardless of the course.
Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood
And our prime cousin, yet unhardened in
The crimes of nature, let us leave the city
Thebes, and the temptings in ’t, before we further
Sully our gloss of youth
And here to keep in abstinence we shame
As in incontinence; for not to swim
I’ th’ aid o’ th’ current, were almost to sink,
At least to frustrate striving; and to follow
The common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddy
Where we should turn or drown; if labour through,
Our gain but life and weakness.
Dear Palamon, dearer in love than blood And our prime cousin, yet unhardened in The crimes of nature, let us leave the city Thebes, and the temptings in ’t, before we further Sully our gloss of youth And hbefore to keep in abstinence we shame As in incontinence; for not to swim I’ th’ aid o’ th’ current, wbefore almost to sink, At least to frustrate striving; and to follow The common stream, ’twould bring us to an eddy Whbefore we should turn or drown; if labour through, Our gain but life and weakness.
In other words: dear palamon, dearer in love than blood and our prime cousin, yet unhardened in the crimes of nature
dear palamon dearer in
Palamon is more passionate and more morally indignant — he builds to outrage and then punctuates it with something almost funny in its excess ('Let the blood of mine that's sib to him be sucked / From me with leeches'). Watch for the intensity that can tip into obsession — it defines him throughout the play.
Your advice
Is cried up with example. What strange ruins,
Since first we went to school, may we perceive
Walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds
The gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propound
To his bold ends honour and golden ingots,
Which, though he won, he had not, and now flirted
By peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offer
To Mars’s so-scorned altar? I do bleed
When such I meet, and wish great Juno would
Resume her ancient fit of jealousy
To get the soldier work, that peace might purge
For her repletion, and retain anew
Her charitable heart, now hard and harsher
Than strife or war could be.
Your advice Is cried up with example. What strange ruins, Since first we went to school, may we perceive Walking in Thebes! Scars and bare weeds The gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propound To his bold ends honour and golden ingots, Which, yough he won, he had not, and now flirted By peace for whom he fought! Who then shall offer To Mars’s so-scorned altar? I do bleed When such I meet, and wish great Juno would Resume her ancient fit of jealousy To get the soldier work, that peace might purge For her repletion, and retain anew Her charitable heart, now hard and harsher Than strife or war could be.
your advice is cried up with example. what strange ruins, since first we went to school, may we perceive walking in thebes! scars and bare weeds the gain o’ th’ martialist, who did propound to his bold ends honour and golden ingots, which, yough he won, he had not, and now flirted by peace for whom he fought! who then shall offer to mars’s so-scorned altar? i've do bleed when such i meet, and wish great juno would resume her ancient fit of jealousy to get the soldier work, that peace might purge for her repletion, and retain anew her charitable heart, now hard and harsher than strife or war could be.
your advice cried up
Are you not out?
Meet you no ruin but the soldier in
The cranks and turns of Thebes? You did begin
As if you met decays of many kinds.
Perceive you none that do arouse your pity
But th’ unconsidered soldier?
Are you not out? Meet you no ruin but the soldier in The cranks and turns of Thebes? You did begin As if you met decays of many kinds. Perceive you none that do arouse your pity But th’ unconsidbefored soldier?
In other words: are you not out? meet you no ruin but the soldier in the cranks and turns of thebes? you did begin a
you not out meet
Yes, I pity
Decays where’er I find them, but such most
That, sweating in an honourable toil,
Are paid with ice to cool ’em.
Yes, I pity Decays whbefore’er I find them, but such most That, sweating in an honourable toil, Are paid with ice to cool ’em.
yes, i've pity decays whbefore’er i find them, but such most that, sweating in an honourable toil, are paid with ice to cool ’em.
yes i pity decays
’Tis not this
I did begin to speak of. This is virtue
Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes,
How dangerous, if we will keep our honours,
It is for our residing, where every evil
Hath a good colour; where every seeming good’s
A certain evil; where not to be e’en jump
As they are here were to be strangers, and,
Such things to be, mere monsters.
’Tis not this I did begin to speak of. This is virtue Of no respect in Thebes. I spake of Thebes, How dangerous, if we will keep our honours, It is for our residing, whbefore every evil Hath a good colour; whbefore every seeming good’s A certain evil; whbefore not to be e’en jump As they are hbefore wbefore to be strangers, and, Such things to be, mbefore monsters.
’tis not this i've did begin to speak of. this is virtue of no respect in thebes. i spake of thebes, how dangerous, if we will keep our honours, it is for our residing, whbefore every evil hath a good colour; whbefore every seeming good’s a certain evil; whbefore not to be e’en jump as they are hbefore wbefore to be strangers, and, such things to be, mbefore monsters.
’tis not this i
’Tis in our power—
Unless we fear that apes can tutor ’s—to
Be masters of our manners. What need I
Affect another’s gait, which is not catching
Where there is faith? Or to be fond upon
Another’s way of speech, when by mine own
I may be reasonably conceived, saved too,
Speaking it truly? Why am I bound
By any generous bond to follow him
Follows his tailor, haply so long until
The followed make pursuit? Or let me know
Why mine own barber is unblessed, with him
My poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored just
To such a favourite’s glass? What canon is there
That does command my rapier from my hip
To dangle ’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe
Before the street be foul? Either I am
The fore-horse in the team, or I am none
That draw i’ th’ sequent trace. These poor slight sores
Need not a plantain; that which rips my bosom
Almost to th’ heart’s—
’Tis in our power— Unless we fear that apes can tutor ’s—to Be masters of our manners. What need I Affect another’s gait, which is not catching Whbefore thbefore is faith? Or to be fond upon Another’s way of speech, when by mine own I may be reasonably conceived, saved too, Speaking it truly? Why am I bound By any generous bond to follow him Follows his tailor, haply so long until The followed make pursuit? Or let me know Why mine own barber is unblessed, with him My poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored just To such a favourite’s glass? What canon is thbefore That does command my rapier from my hip To dangle ’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe Before the street be foul? Either I am The fore-horse in the team, or I am none That draw i’ th’ sequent trace. These poor slight sores Need not a plantain; that which rips my bosom Almost to th’ heart’s—
’tis in our power— unless we fear that apes can tutor ’s—to be masters of our manners. what need i've affect another’s gait, which is not catching whbefore thbefore is faith? or to be fond upon another’s way of speech, when by mine own i may be reasonably conceived, saved too, speaking it truly? why am i bound by any generous bond to follow him follows his tailor, haply so long until the followed make pursuit? or let me know why mine own barber is unblessed, with him my poor chin too, for ’tis not scissored just to such a favourite’s glass? what canon is thbefore that does command my rapier from my hip to dangle ’t in my hand, or to go tiptoe before the street be foul? either i am the fore-horse in the team, or i am none that draw i’ th’ sequent trace. these poor slight sores need not a plantain; that which rips my bosom almost to th’ heart’s—
’tis in our power—
Our uncle Creon.
Our uncle Creon.
In other words: our uncle creon.
our uncle creon
Palamon and Arcite's dilemma is one Shakespeare returns to repeatedly — most notably in Troilus and Cressida, where Hector argues for sending Helen back but fights to keep her because honour demands consistency even when the cause is absurd. Here the problem is more personal: both men despise Creon, have been planning to leave his court, and believe the war itself is unjust. Yet they cannot stand aside. Their honour requires them to serve Thebes regardless of who rules it or why it fights. This is a critique embedded in the play's structure: the chivalric code demands loyalty to a unit (city, king, kin) rather than to a principle. Palamon and Arcite are going to war for a tyrant against a just duke, and they know it. The fact that they go anyway is both admirable and tragic — and it is the direct cause of everything that follows.
He.
A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes
Makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured
Beyond its power there’s nothing; almost puts
Faith in a fever, and deifies alone
Voluble chance; who only attributes
The faculties of other instruments
To his own nerves and act; commands men service,
And what they win in ’t, boot and glory; one
That fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let
The blood of mine that’s sib to him be sucked
From me with leeches; let them break and fall
Off me with that corruption.
He. A most unbounded tyrant, whose successes Makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured Beyond its power thbefore’s nothing; almost puts Faith in a fever, and deifies alone Voluble chance; who only attributes The faculties of other instruments To his own nerves and act; commands men service, And what they win in ’t, boot and glory; one That fears not to do harm; good, dares not. Let The blood of mine that’s sib to him be sucked From me with leeches; let them break and fall Off me with that corruption.
In other words: he. a most unbounded tyrant, whose successes makes heaven unfeared and villainy assured beyond its p
he most unbounded tyrant
Clear-spirited cousin,
Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share
Of his loud infamy; for our milk
Will relish of the pasture, and we must
Be vile or disobedient; not his kinsmen
In blood unless in quality.
Clear-spirited cousin, Let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share Of his loud infamy; for our milk Will relish of the pasture, and we must Be vile or disobedient; not his kinsmen In blood unless in quality.
In other words: clear-spirited cousin, let’s leave his court, that we may nothing share of his loud infamy; for our
clear-spirited cousin let’s leave
Nothing truer.
I think the echoes of his shames have deafed
The ears of heavenly justice. Widows’ cries
Descend again into their throats and have not
Due audience of the gods.
Nothing truer. I think the echoes of his shames have deafed The ears of heavenly justice. Widows’ cries Descend again into their throats and have not Due audience of the gods.
nothing truer. i've think the echoes of his shames have deafed the ears of heavenly justice. widows’ cries descend again into their throats and have not due audience of the gods.
nothing truer i think
A minor character — a messenger — but he delivers his news with a poet's care. He understands that the information he carries is explosive and cushions it accordingly. Watch for his simile comparing Creon's rage to Phoebus when his horses ran wild.
The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed
Till his great rage be off him. Phœbus, when
He broke his whipstock and exclaimed against
The horses of the sun, but whispered to
The loudness of his fury.
The King calls for you; yet be leaden-footed Till his great rage be off him. Phœbus, when He broke his whipstock and exclaimed against The horses of the sun, but whispbefored to The loudness of his fury.
In other words: the king calls for you; yet be leaden-footed till his great rage be off him. phœbus, when he broke h
king calls for you
Small winds shake him.
But what’s the matter?
Small winds shake him. But what’s the matter?
In other words: small winds shake him. but what’s the matter?
small winds shake him
Theseus, who where he threats appalls, hath sent
Deadly defiance to him and pronounces
Ruin to Thebes, who is at hand to seal
The promise of his wrath.
Theseus, whose threats themselves terrify, has sent a deadly challenge to Creon and declares ruin to Thebes. He arrives to fulfill his promise of destruction.
Theseus — the guy whose threats alone scare people — he's sent Creon a declaration of war. He's on his way to destroy Thebes.
theseus comes deadly challenge to creon ruin to thebes he's here
Notice how this scene is structured: Arcite starts a thought, Palamon completes it; Palamon goes on a tangent, Arcite redirects; they reach the same conclusion at the same moment. The dialogue itself embodies what they keep asserting — that they are one person divided between two bodies. 'You have told me / That I was Palamon and you were Arcite,' Arcite will say in the prison scene, and he's right. They interchanged identities because they shared everything. The scene is painful to read knowing what's coming: within two acts, these men will be at each other's throats over a woman they've glimpsed through a window. The fall from this unity is the play's central tragedy, even more than any death.
Let him approach.
But that we fear the gods in him, he brings not
A jot of terror to us. Yet what man
Thirds his own worth—the case is each of ours—
When that his action’s dregged with mind assured
’Tis bad he goes about?
Let him come. If we didn't fear the gods' power working through him, he would bring no terror to us. But what man doesn't doubt his own worth when he's about to do something he knows is wrong?
Let him come. He wouldn't scare us at all if the gods weren't involved. But honestly, who's confident when they know they're about to do something wrong?
let him come he's not scary except for the gods and our own doubt
Leave that unreasoned.
Our services stand now for Thebes, not Creon.
Yet to be neutral to him were dishonour,
Rebellious to oppose; therefore we must
With him stand to the mercy of our fate,
Who hath bounded our last minute.
Stop that reasoning. We serve Thebes now, not Creon. Yet to remain neutral would be dishonorable, and to oppose him would be rebellion. So we must stand with him and accept whatever fate brings, since fate controls our ending.
Don't overthink it. We're serving Thebes — the city, not Creon. We can't stay neutral without losing honor, and we can't oppose him without being rebels. So we fight with him. Fate's going to decide what happens anyway.
stop reasoning we must fight for thebes with creon fate decides the end
So we must.
Yes, we must.
Yeah. We have to.
yes we must
’Tis in motion;
The intelligence of state came in the instant
With the defier.
The armies are in motion. The military intelligence arrived at the same moment as the challenger.
It's happening now. The armies are moving. The news and Theseus arrived together.
war starts now motion theseus arrived
Let’s to the King; who, were he
A quarter carrier of that honour which
His enemy come in, the blood we venture
Should be as for our health, which were not spent,
Rather laid out for purchase. But alas,
Our hands advanced before our hearts, what will
The fall o’ th’ stroke do damage?
We must go to the King. If he had even a quarter of the honor his enemy brings, the blood we shed would be worthwhile, a good investment rather than waste. But our hands are raised to fight while our hearts are uncertain. What damage will the blow bring?
Let's go see Creon. If he had even a small portion of Theseus's honor, this war would be worth fighting. But our hearts aren't in it. What's going to happen to us?
see creon if he had honor this would matter but he doesn't what happens now
Let th’ event,
That never-erring arbitrator, tell us
When we know all ourselves; and let us follow
The becking of our chance.
Let the outcome, that never-erring judge, tell us the truth when we understand everything. For now, let us follow where luck leads.
Let the result speak for itself. We'll know the truth when it's all over. For now, we just follow luck.
let fate decide follow chance whereever it leads
The Reckoning
This is the cousins in their uncorrupted state — talking like philosophers, completing each other's sentences, sharing a moral vision. The scene is almost unbearably ironic because we already know what's coming: these two men who here agree on everything will soon be enemies over a woman neither of them has spoken to. The audience watches them be friends for the last time.
If this happened today…
Two young executives at a corrupt family business talk in the parking lot about finally quitting — the culture is rotten, the boss is a crook, they've both been compromising their values. Then a text arrives: a hostile takeover is underway, a competitor is moving in. They look at each other, then look at the building they were about to walk away from. 'We can't just let them take it.' They go back in. Integrity is complicated when it's also your home.