Meanwhile Arcite passed his days in Thebes in grief.  He wandered about alone, and wailed and made moan to himself.  He cared not to eat, and sleep forsook him.  His spirits were so feeble that the sound of music brought fresh tears to his eyes.  He grew gaunt and thin, and his voice was hollow with sadness.

At last, when he was nearly dazed with sorrow, he dreamt one night that a beautiful winged boy with golden curls stood before him.  “Go thou to Athens,” said the boy; “the end of all thy sorrow awaits thee there!”

Arcite started up wide awake and said, “I will to Athens, to my lady.  It were good even to die in her presence.”

He caught up a mirror.  He had not cared to look in one for many months, but now that he meant to return to his lady, he wished to see if he looked strong and young as ever.  At first he was shocked to see how great a change had passed over his face.  Then he thought, “If I do not say who I am, I may live unknown in Athens for years.  Then I shall see my lady day by day.”

Quickly he called to him a squire, and told him all his will, and bound him to keep his name a secret and to answer no questions about himself or his master.  Then Arcite sent his squire to find clothes such as the laborers in Athens wore.  When he returned, Arcite and he put on the clothes and set out by the straight road to Athens.

In Athens no one took any notice of the two poor men.

Before they came to the castle the squire left his master and found a house to live in, where he could do Arcite’s bidding at any time.  But Arcite hurried on to the courtyard gate.  There he waited till the master of the servants who waited on Emelia came out.  Then he said to him, “Take me, I pray thee, into thy service.  Drudge I will and draw water, yea, and in all thou dost command I will obey.”

The master of the servants asked Arcite what was his name.  “Philostrate, my lord,” said Arcite, and as “Philostrate” he entered that part of the castle where Emelia’s home was.

He could hew wood and carry water well, but he was not long left to do such rough work.  The master of the house saw that whatever he trusted to Philostrate’s care was rightly done, so he gave him less humble work to do, and made him a page in the house of Emelia.  The lords and ladies of the castle began to notice what a gentle and kind page this Philostrate was.  They spoke to Theseus about him, and said that he deserved to have a higher place that he might show his goodness and courage in knightly deeds.  To please them, Theseus made him one of his own squires.

Seven years passed away, and Palamon was still in prison.  This year, however, in the May-time, a friend of his, who heard where he was, helped him to escape.  During the short night he fled as fast as he could, but when the early dawn began to break he strode tremblingly to a grove of trees, that he might hide there all day.  When the darkness fell once more he meant to go on again to Thebes, there to gather his old armies to make war on Theseus.  He wished either to win Emelia or to die.  He cared little for his life if he might not spend it with her.