Speeches (Lines) for MESSENGER in "The Two Noble Kinsmen"

THESEUS. From whence come you, sir?

MESSENGER. From the knights.

THESEUS. Pray speak,
You that have seen them, what they are.

MESSENGER. I will, sir,
And truly what I think. Six braver spirits
Than these they have brought, if we judge by the outside,
I never saw nor read of. He that stands
In the first place with Arcite, by his seeming,
Should be a stout man, by his face a prince--
His very looks so say him; his complexion
Nearer a brown than black--stern and yet noble--
Which shows him hardy, fearless, proud of dangers;
The circles of his eyes show fire within him,
And as a heated lion, so he looks.
His hair hangs long behind him, black and shining
Like ravens' wings; his shoulders broad and strong,
Armed long and round; and on his thigh a sword
Hung by a curious baldric, when he frowns
To seal his will with. Better, o' my conscience,
Was never soldier's friend.

PIRITHOUS. When he speaks, his tongue
Sounds like a trumpet. All his lineaments
Are as a man would wish 'em, strong and clean.
He wears a well-steeled axe, the staff of gold;
His age some five-and-twenty.

MESSENGER. There's another--
A little man, but of a tough soul, seeming
As great as any; fairer promises
In such a body yet I never looked on.

PIRITHOUS. O, he that's freckle-faced?

MESSENGER. The same, my lord.
Are they not sweet ones?

PIRITHOUS. Yes, they are well.

MESSENGER. Methinks,
Being so few, and well disposed, they show
Great and fine art in nature. He's white-haired--
Not wanton white, but such a manly color
Next to an auburn; tough and nimble-set,
Which shows an active soul. His arms are brawny,
Lined with strong sinews--to the shoulder-piece
Gently they swell, like women new-conceived,
Which speaks him prone to labor, never fainting
Under the weight of arms; stout-hearted still,
But when he stirs, a tiger. He's grey-eyed,
Which yields compassion where he conquers; sharp
To spy advantages, and where he finds 'em,
He's swift to make 'em his. He does no wrongs,
Nor takes none. He's round-faced, and when he smiles
He shows a lover; when he frowns, a soldier.
About his head he wears the winner's oak,
And in it stuck the favor of his lady.
His age some six-and-thirty. In his hand
He bears a charging-staff embossed with silver.

JAILER. Are they i' th' field?

MESSENGER. They are.
You bear a charge there too.

THIRD KNIGHT. We'll follow cheerfully.

[A great noise within crying "Run!" "Save!" "Hold!" Enter in haste a Messenger.]

MESSENGER. Hold, hold! O, hold, hold, hold!

[Enter Pirithous in haste.]