Meanwhile Palamon languished in prison, till, made desperate by despair, he one night drugged his jailer and escaped.  When day came he sought refuge in a wood, intending to wait there for the dark to cover his escape.  As Fortune willed it, that very morning, Arcite (now calling himself Philostratus) rode out into the wood to enjoy the fresh sweet air of the May morning, and dismounted from his horse near the very bush where Palamon lay hid.  There he paced up and down, restless, and spoke aloud to himself of all his sorrows.  “I am royally born,” he said, “yet I must pretend to serve Theseus, my mortal enemy.  Palamon my brother is a captive.  Unhappy are we both—­better to die of love for my lady than live this miserable life.”  At this mention of his love, Palamon’s heart was stirred to wrath, and forth he rushed from his hiding-place.  “Traitor Arcite,” he cried, “do you still dare to love my lady?  Will you still break our vow of fealty, one to the other?  Now you have deceived Theseus!  But beware!  I am Palamon!  You must give up your love or die!” Saying this he rushed at Arcite.  As it happened Arcite was armed, and drew his sword, but seeing that Palamon had no weapon, he stayed his hand and said, “If you will do combat for your love, wait here till tomorrow.  I cannot fight you unarmed as you are.  At dawn I will bring you armour, and a sword, and food.  Then let the best warrior have the fair lady of the garden!” And so they parted.

Arcite kept his word and brought the armour at daybreak.  As soon as it was light those two armed themselves in the wood, and fell on each other like a lion and a tiger when they wage mortal combat in the thick forest.  Neither shrank himself nor spared his adversary.  Their shields were dinted, sparks flew from their helmets, and down their breastplates many a stream of blood flowed.

Amid the din of their blows on the armour and the fury of combat, they did not hear the hunting horn nor the baying of the hounds, and so, before they knew it, Theseus and all his court were around them, and had called on them to cease their clamour and explain why they strove so fiercely together.  They dropped their weapons in amazement, and saw that with Theseus were his queen, and the lady for whose love they fought, Emily the Fair, the niece of Theseus.  She was dressed in green, as befitted a huntress on so bright a morning.  Palamon spoke at once.  “Show us no mercy, Lord Theseus.  Better it is that we should both die, for well have we deserved death.  I, Palamon, am your captive, escaped from prison but yesterday, and this man here is Arcite, who for many years has deceived you.  This our quarrel is for the love of Emily, the bright maid at your side.  Slay us both, and let our sorrow have an end.”  Theseus was wroth, and would indeed have slain them, but the queen and Emily pleaded so well for their lives that the duke relented.  “You art foolish, both of you,” he said; “but lovers are ever thus.  This is my judgment.  For fifty weeks you shall be free, and then shall you appear, each with a hundred knights, to do battle for Emily in a tournament.  Whoso wins that day shall have her for his bride.”  Palamon and Arcite leapt up with joy at this; and all the court praised Theseus for his chivalrous behaviour and knightly courtesy.