WHEN that Aprilis, with his showers swootsweet,
The drought of March hath pierced to the root,
And bathed every vein in such licour,
Of which virtue engender’d is the flower;
When Zephyrus eke with his swoote breath
Inspired hath in every holtgrove, forest and heath
The tender croppestwigs, boughs and the younge sun
Hath in the Ram a1 his halfe course y-run,
And smalle fowles make melody,
That sleepen all the night with open eye,
(So pricketh them nature in their corageshearts, inclinations);
Then longe folk to go on pilgrimages,
And palmers a2 for to seeke strange strands,
To ferne hallows couthdistant saints knowna3 in sundry lands;
And specially, from every shire’s end
Of Engleland, to Canterbury they wend,
The holy blissful Martyr for to seek,
That them hath holpenhelped, when that they were sick.

Befell that, in that season on a day,
In Southwark at the Tabard a4 as I lay,
Ready to wenden on my pilgrimage
To Canterbury with devout corage,
At night was come into that hostelry
Well nine and twenty in a company
Of sundry folk, by aventure y-fall
In fellowshipi.e. who had by chance fallen into company, and pilgrims were they all, a5
That toward Canterbury woulde ride.
The chamber, and the stables were wide,
And well we weren eased at the best.we were well provided with the best
And shortly, when the sunne was to rest,
So had I spoken with them every one,
That I was of their fellowship anon,
And made forwordpromise early for to rise,
To take our way there as I you devisedescribe, relate.

But natheless, while I have time and space,
Ere that I farther in this tale pace,
Me thinketh it accordant to reason,
To tell you alle the condition
Of each of them, so as it seemed me,
And which they weren, and of what degree;
And eke in what array that they were in:
And at a Knight then will I first begin.

A KNIGHT there was, and that a worthy man,
That from the time that he first began
To riden out, he loved chivalry,
Truth and honour, freedom and courtesy.
Full worthy was he in his Lorde’s war,
And thereto had he ridden, no man farrefarther,
As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
And ever honour’d for his worthiness
At Alisandre a6 he was when it was won.
Full often time he had the board begun
Above alle nations in Prusse.a7
In Lettowe had he reysed,journeyed and in Russe,
No Christian man so oft of his degree.
In Grenade at the siege eke had he be
Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie. a8
At Leyes was he, and at Satalie,
When they were won; and in the Greate Sea
At many a noble army had he be.
At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
And foughten for our faith at Tramissene.
In listes thries, and aye slain his foe.
This ilkesame worthy knight had been alsoa9
Some time with the lord of Palatie,
Against another heathen in Turkie:
And evermore he had a sovereign priceHe was held in very high esteem..
And though that he was worthy he was wise,
And of his port as meek as is a maid.
He never yet no villainy ne said
In all his life, unto no manner wight.
He was a very perfect gentle knight.
But for to telle you of his array,
His horse was good, but yet he was not gay.
Of fustian he weared a giponshort doublet,
Alle besmotter’d with his habergeon,soiled by his coat of mail.
For he was late y-come from his voyage,
And wente for to do his pilgrimage.

With him there was his son, a younge SQUIRE,
A lover, and a lusty bacheler,
With lockes crullecurled as they were laid in press.
Of twenty year of age he was I guess.
Of his stature he was of even length,
And wonderly deliverwonderfully nimble, and great of strength.
And he had been some time in chevachiecavalry raids,
In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
And borne him well, as of so little spacein such a short time,
In hope to standen in his lady’s grace.
Embroider’d was he, as it were a mead
All full of freshe flowers, white and red.
Singing he was, or fluting all the day;
He was as fresh as is the month of May.
Short was his gown, with sleeves long and wide.
Well could he sit on horse, and faire ride.
He coulde songes make, and well indite,
Joust, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write.
So hot he loved, that by nightertalenight-time
He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
Courteous he was, lowly, and serviceable,
And carv’d before his father at the table.a10

A YEOMAN had he, and servants no mo’
At that time, for him list ride soit pleased him so to ride
And he was clad in coat and hood of green.
A sheaf of peacock arrowsa11 bright and keen
Under his belt he bare full thriftily.
Well could he dress his tackle yeomanly:
His arrows drooped not with feathers low;
And in his hand he bare a mighty bow.
A nut-head a12 had he, with a brown visiage:
Of wood-craft coudknew he well all the usage:
Upon his arm he bare a gay bracersmall shield,
And by his side a sword and a buckler,
And on that other side a gay daggere,
Harnessed well, and sharp as point of spear:
A Christopher on his breast of silver sheen.
An horn he bare, the baldric was of green:
A forester was he soothlycertainly as I guess.

There was also a Nun, a PRIORESS,
That of her smiling was full simple and coy;
Her greatest oathe was but by Saint Loy;
And she was clepedcalled Madame Eglentine.
Full well she sang the service divine,
Entuned in her nose full seemly;
And French she spake full fair and fetislyproperly
After the school of Stratford atte Bow,
For French of Paris was to her unknow.
At meate was she well y-taught withal;
She let no morsel from her lippes fall,
Nor wet her fingers in her sauce deep.
Well could she carry a morsel, and well keep,
That no droppe ne fell upon her breast.
In courtesy was set full much her lestpleasure.
Her over-lippe wiped she so clean,
That in her cup there was no farthingspeck seen
Of grease, when she drunken had her draught;
Full seemely after her meat she raughtreached out her hand:
And sickerly she was of great disportsurely she was of a lively disposition,
And full pleasant, and amiable of port,
And pained her to counterfeite cheer
Of courti.e. took pains to assume a courtly disposition, and be estately of mannere,
And to be holden digneworthy of reverence.
But for to speaken of her conscience,
She was so charitable and so pitous,full of pity
She woulde weep if that she saw a mouse
Caught in a trap, if it were dead or bled.
Of smalle houndes had she, that she fed
With roasted flesh, and milk, and wastel bread.finest white bread
But sore she wept if one of them were dead,
Or if men smote it with a yardestaff smart:
And all was conscience and tender heart.
Full seemly her wimple y-pinched was;
Her nose tretis;well-formed her eyen gray as glass;a13
Her mouth full small, and thereto soft and red;
But sickerly she had a fair forehead.
It was almost a spanne broad I trow;
For hardily she was not undergrowcertainly she was not small.
Full fetisneat was her cloak, as I was ware.
Of small coral about her arm she bare
A pair of beades, gauded all with green;
And thereon hung a brooch of gold full sheen,
On which was first y-written a crown’d A,
And after, Amor vincit omnia.love conquers all
Another Nun also with her had she,
That was her chapelleine, and PRIESTES three.

A MONK there was, a fair for the mast’ryabove all othersa14,
An out-rider, that loved veneryhunting;
A manly man, to be an abbot able.
Full many a dainty horse had he in stable:
And when he rode, men might his bridle hear
Jingeling a15 in a whistling wind as clear,
And eke as loud, as doth the chapel bell,
There as this lord was keeper of the cell.
The rule of Saint Maur and of Saint Benet, a16
Because that it was old and somedeal strait
This ilkesame monk let olde thinges pace,
And held after the newe world the trace.
He gave not of the text a pulled hen,he cared nothing for the text
That saith, that hunters be not holy men:
Ne that a monk, when he is cloisterless;
Is like to a fish that is waterless;
This is to say, a monk out of his cloister.
This ilke text held he not worth an oyster;
And I say his opinion was good.
Why should he study, and make himselfe woodmada17
Upon a book in cloister always pore,
Or swinkentoil with his handes, and labour,
As Austin bid? how shall the world be served?
Let Austin have his swink to him reserved.
Therefore he was a prickasourhard rider aright:
Greyhounds he had as swift as fowl of flight;
Of prickingriding and of hunting for the hare
Was all his lust,pleasure for no cost would he spare.
I saw his sleeves purfil’d at the hand
With grisi.e. worked at the end with a fur called “gris”, and that the finest of the land.
And for to fasten his hood under his chin,
He had of gold y-wrought a curious pin;
A love-knot in the greater end there was.
His head was bald, and shone as any glass,
And eke his face, as it had been anoint;
He was a lord full fat and in good point;
His eyen steep,deep-set and rolling in his head,
That steamed as a furnace of a lead.
His bootes supple, his horse in great estate,
Now certainly he was a fair prelate;
He was not pale as a forpinedwasted ghost;
A fat swan lov’d he best of any roast.
His palfrey was as brown as is a berry.

A FRIAR there was, a wanton and a merry,
A limitour a18, a full solemne man.
In all the orders four is none that canknows
So much of dalliance and fair language.
He had y-made full many a marriage
Of younge women, at his owen cost.
Unto his order he was a noble post;
Full well belov’d, and familiar was he
With franklins over alleverywhere in his country,
And eke with worthy women of the town:
For he had power of confession,
As said himselfe, more than a curate,
For of his order he was licentiate.
Full sweetely heard he confession,
And pleasant was his absolution.
He was an easy man to give penance,
There as he wist to have a good pittance:where he know he would get good payment
For unto a poor order for to give
Is signe that a man is well y-shrive.
For if he gave, he durste make avantdared to boast,
He wisteknew that the man was repentant.
For many a man so hard is of his heart,
He may not weep although him sore smart.
Therefore instead of weeping and prayeres,
Men must give silver to the poore freres.
His tippet was aye farsedstuffed full of knives
And pinnes, for to give to faire wives;
And certainly he had a merry note:
Well could he sing and playen on a rotefrom memory;
Of yeddingssongs he bare utterly the prize.
His neck was white as is the fleur-de-lis.
Thereto he strong was as a champion,
And knew well the taverns in every town.
And every hosteler and gay tapstere,
Better than a lazarleper or a beggere,
For unto such a worthy man as he
Accordeth not, as by his faculty,
To have with such lazars acquaintance.
It is not honest, it may not advance,
As for to deale with no such pourailleoffal, refuse,
But all with rich, and sellers of vitaillevictuals.
And ov’r all there asin every place where& profit should arise,
Courteous he was, and lowly of service;
There n’as no man nowhere so virtuous.
He was the beste beggar in all his house:
And gave a certain farme for the grant, a19
None of his bretheren came in his haunt.
For though a widow hadde but one shoe,
So pleasant was his In Principio,a20
Yet would he have a farthing ere he went;
His purchase was well better than his rent.
And rage he could and play as any whelp,
In lovedays a21; there could he muchelgreatly help.
For there was he not like a cloisterer,
With threadbare cope as is a poor scholer;
But he was like a master or a pope.
Of double worsted was his semicopeshort cloak,
That rounded was as a bell out of press.
Somewhat he lisped for his wantonness,
To make his English sweet upon his tongue;
And in his harping, when that he had sung,
His eyeneyes twinkled in his head aright,
As do the starres in a frosty night.
This worthy limitour a18 was call’d Huberd.

A MERCHANT was there with a forked beard,
In motley, and high on his horse he sat,
Upon his head a Flandrish beaver hat.
His bootes clasped fair and fetislyneatly.
His reasons aye spake he full solemnly,
Sounding alway th’ increase of his winning.
He would the sea were kept a22 for any thing
Betwixte Middleburg and Orewella23
Well could he in exchange shieldescrown coins sella24
This worthy man full well his wit besetemployed;
There wisteknew no wightman that he was in debt,
So estately was he of governanceso well he managed
With his bargains, and with his chevisancebusiness contract.
For sooth he was a worthy man withal,
But sooth to say, I n’otknow not how men him call.

A CLERK there was of OxenfordOxford also,
That unto logic hadde long y-godevoted himself.
As leane was his horse as is a rake,
And he was not right fat, I undertake;
But looked hollowthin, and thereto soberlypoorly.
Full threadbare was his overest courtepyuppermost short cloak,
For he had gotten him yet no benefice,
Ne was not worldly, to have an office.
For him was leverrather have at his bed’s head
Twenty bookes, clothed in black or red,
Of Aristotle, and his philosophy,
Than robes rich, or fiddle, or psalt’ry.
But all be that he was a philosopher,
Yet hadde he but little gold in coffer,
But all that he might of his friendes hentobtain,
On bookes and on learning he it spent,
And busily gan for the soules pray
Of them that gave him a25 wherewith to scholaystudy
Of study took he moste care and heed.
Not one word spake he more than was need;
And that was said in form and reverence,
And short and quick, and full of high sentence.
Sounding in moral virtue was his speech,
And gladly would he learn, and gladly teach.

A SERGEANT OF THE LAW, wary and wise,
That often had y-been at the Parvis, a26
There was also, full rich of excellence.
Discreet he was, and of great reverence:
He seemed such, his wordes were so wise,
Justice he was full often in assize,
By patent, and by pleinfull commission;
For his science, and for his high renown,
Of fees and robes had he many one.
So great a purchaser was nowhere none.
All was fee simple to him, in effect
His purchasing might not be in suspectsuspicion
Nowhere so busy a man as he there was
And yet he seemed busier than he was
In termes had he case’ and doomesjudgements all
That from the time of King Will. were fall.
Thereto he could indite, and make a thing
There coulde no wight pinch atfind fault with his writing.
And every statute coudknew he plain by rote
He rode but homely in a medleymulticoloured coat,
Girt with a seintsash of silk, with barres small;
Of his array tell I no longer tale.

A FRANKELINRich landowner was in this company;
White was his beard, as is the daisy.
Of his complexion he was sanguine.
Well lov’d he in the morn a sop in wine.
To liven in delight was ever his wonwont,
For he was Epicurus’ owen son,
That held opinion, that pleinfull delight
Was verily felicity perfite.
An householder, and that a great, was he;
Saint Juliana27 he was in his country.
His bread, his ale, was alway after onepressed on one;
A better envinedstored with wine man was nowhere none;
Withoute bake-meat never was his house,
Of fish and flesh, and that so plenteous,
It snowed in his house of meat and drink,
Of alle dainties that men coulde think.
After the sundry seasons of the year,
So changed he his meat and his soupere.
Full many a fat partridge had he in mewcage,a28
And many a bream, and many a lucepike in stewfish-ponda29
Woe was his cook, but ifunless his sauce were
Poignant and sharp, and ready all his gear.
His table dormantfixed in his hall alway
Stood ready cover’d all the longe day.
At sessions there was he lord and sire.
Full often time he was knight of the shireMember of Parliament
An anlacedagger, and a gipcierepurse all of silk,
Hung at his girdle, white as morning milk.
A sheriff had he been, and a countoura30
Was nowhere such a worthy vavasoura31.

An HABERDASHER, and a CARPENTER,
A WEBBEweaver, a DYER, and a TAPISERtapestry-maker,
Were with us eke, cloth’d in one livery,
Of a solemn and great fraternity.
Full fresh and new their gear y-pickedspruce was.
Their knives were y-chapedmounted not with brass,
But all with silver wrought full clean and well,
Their girdles and their pouches every dealin every part.
Well seemed each of them a fair burgess,
To sitten in a guild-hall, on the dais. a32
Evereach, for the wisdom that he canknew,
Was shapelyfitted for to be an alderman.
For chattels hadde they enough and rent,
And eke their wives would it well assent:
And elles certain they had been to blame.
It is full fair to be y-clep’d madame,
And for to go to vigils all before,
And have a mantle royally y-bore.a33

A COOK they hadde with them for the nonesoccasion,
To boil the chickens and the marrow bones,
And powder merchant tart and galingale.
Well could he know a draught of London ale.
He could roast, and stew, and broil, and fry,
Make mortrewes, and well bake a pie.
But great harm was it, as it thoughte me,
That, on his shin a mormalulcer hadde he.
For blanc manger, that made he with the best a34

A SHIPMAN was there, wonned far by Westwho dwelt far to the West:
For ought I wot, be was of Dartemouth.
He rode upon a rouncyhack, as he couth,
All in a gown of faldingcoarse cloth to the knee.
A dagger hanging by a lace had he
About his neck under his arm adown;
The hot summer had made his hue all brown;
And certainly he was a good fellaw.
Full many a draught of wine he had y-draw
From Bourdeaux-ward, while that the chapmen sleep;
Of nice conscience took he no keep.
If that he fought, and had the higher hand,
By water he sent them home to every land.he drowned his prisoners
But of his craft to reckon well his tides,
His streames and his strandes him besides,
His herberowharbourage, his moon, and lodemanagepilotagea35,
There was none such, from Hull unto Carthage
Hardy he was, and wise, I undertake:
With many a tempest had his beard been shake.
He knew well all the havens, as they were,
From Scotland to the Cape of Finisterre,
And every creek in Bretagne and in Spain:
His barge y-cleped was the Magdelain.

With us there was a DOCTOR OF PHYSIC;
In all this worlde was there none him like
To speak of physic, and of surgery:
For he was grounded in astronomy.
He kept his patient a full great deal
In houres by his magic natural.
Well could he fortunemake fortunate the ascendent
Of his images for his patient,.
He knew the cause of every malady,
Were it of cold, or hot, or moist, or dry,
And where engender’d, and of what humour.
He was a very perfect practisour
The cause y-know,known and of his harm the root,
Anon he gave to the sick man his bootremedy
Full ready had he his apothecaries,
To send his drugges and his lectuaries
For each of them made other for to win
Their friendship was not newe to begin
Well knew he the old Esculapius,
And Dioscorides, and eke Rufus;
Old Hippocras, Hali, and Gallien;
Serapion, Rasis, and Avicen;
Averrois, Damascene, and Constantin;
Bernard, and Gatisden, and Gilbertin. a36
Of his diet measurable was he,
For it was of no superfluity,
But of great nourishing, and digestible.
His study was but little on the Bible.
In sanguinered and in perseblue he clad was all
Lined with taffeta, and with sendallfine silk.
And yet he was but easy of dispensehe spent very little:
He kept that he won in the pestilencethe money he made during the plague.
For gold in physic is a cordial;
Therefore he loved gold in special.

A good WIFE was there OF beside BATH,
But she was somedeal deaf, and that was scathdamage; pity.
Of cloth-making she hadde such an hauntskill,
She passed them of Ypres, and of Gaunt. a37
In all the parish wife was there none,
That to the off’ringthe offering at mass before her should gon,
And if there did, certain so wroth was she,
That she was out of alle charity
Her coverchiefshead-dresses were full fine of ground
I durste swear, they weighede ten pound a38
That on the Sunday were upon her head.
Her hosen weren of fine scarlet red,
Full strait y-tied, and shoes full moistfresh and newa39
Bold was her face, and fair and red of hue.
She was a worthy woman all her live,
Husbands at the church door had she had five,
Withouten other company in youth;
But thereof needeth not to speak as nouthnow.
And thrice had she been at Jerusalem;
She hadde passed many a strange stream
At Rome she had been, and at Bologne,
In Galice at Saint James, a40 and at Cologne;
She coudeknew much of wand’rng by the Way.
Gat-toothedBuck-toothed was she, soothly for to say.a41
Upon an ambler easily she sat,
Y-wimpled well, and on her head an hat
As broad as is a buckler or a targe.
A foot-mantle about her hippes large,
And on her feet a pair of spurres sharp.
In fellowship well could she laugh and carpjest, talk
Of remedies of love she knew perchance
For of that art she coudknew the olde dance.

A good man there was of religion,
That was a poore PARSON of a town:
But rich he was of holy thought and werkwork.
He was also a learned man, a clerk,
That Christe’s gospel truly woulde preach.
His parishensparishioners devoutly would he teach.
Benign he was, and wonder diligent,
And in adversity full patient:
And such he was y-proved often sithesoftentimes.
Full loth were him to curse for his tithes,
But rather would he given out of doubt,
Unto his poore parishens about,
Of his off’ring, and eke of his substance.
He could in little thing have suffisancehe was satisfied with very little.
Wide was his parish, and houses far asunder,
But he ne left not, for no rain nor thunder,
In sickness and in mischief to visit
The farthest in his parish, much and litgreat and small,
Upon his feet, and in his hand a staff.
This noble ensample to his sheep he gafgave,
That first he wrought, and afterward he taught.
Out of the gospel he the wordes caught,
And this figure he added yet thereto,
That if gold ruste, what should iron do?
For if a priest be foul, on whom we trust,
No wonder is a lewedunlearned man to rust:
And shame it is, if that a priest take keep,
To see a shitten shepherd and clean sheep:
Well ought a priest ensample for to give,
By his own cleanness, how his sheep should live.
He sette not his benefice to hire,
And left his sheep eucumber’d in the mire,
And ran unto London, unto Saint Paul’s,
To seeke him a chanterya42 for souls,
Or with a brotherhood to be withold:detained
But dwelt at home, and kepte well his fold,
So that the wolf ne made it not miscarry.
He was a shepherd, and no mercenary.
And though he holy were, and virtuous,
He was to sinful men not dispitoussevere
Nor of his speeche dangerous nor digndisdainful
But in his teaching discreet and benign.
To drawen folk to heaven, with fairness,
By good ensample, was his business:
But it werebut if it were any person obstinate,
What so he were of high or low estate,
Him would he snibbereprove sharply for the nonesnonce, occasion.
A better priest I trow that nowhere none is.
He waited after no pomp nor reverence,
Nor maked him a spiced conscienceartificial conscience,
But Christe’s lore, and his apostles’ twelve,
He taught, and first he follow’d it himselve.

With him there was a PLOUGHMAN, was his brother,
That had y-laid of dung full many a fotherton.
A true swinkerhard worker and a good was he,
Living in peace and perfect charity.
God loved he beste with all his heart
At alle times, were it gain or smartpain, loss,
And then his neighebour right as himselve.
He woulde thresh, and thereto dikedig ditches, and delve,
For Christe’s sake, for every poore wight,
Withouten hire, if it lay in his might.
His tithes payed he full fair and well,
Both of his proper swinkhis own labour, and his chattelgoods
In a tabardsleeveless jerkin he rode upon a mare.

There was also a Reeve, and a Millere,
A Sompnour, and a Pardoner also,
A Manciple, and myself, there were no mo’.

The MILLER was a stout carle for the nones,
Full big he was of brawn, and eke of bones;
That proved well, for ov’r all wherewheresoever he came,
At wrestling he would bear away the ram.a43
He was short-shouldered, broad, a thicke gnarrstump of wood,
There was no door, that he n’oldcould not heave off bar,
Or break it at a running with his head.
His beard as any sow or fox was red,
And thereto broad, as though it were a spade.
Upon the cophead right of his nose he hada44
A wart, and thereon stood a tuft of hairs
Red as the bristles of a sowe’s ears.
His nose-thirlesnostrils blacke were and wide.a45
A sword and buckler bare he by his side.
His mouth as wide was as a furnace.
He was a jangler, and a goliardaisbuffoon,a46
And that was most of sin and harlotries.
Well could he steale corn, and tolle thrice
And yet he had a thumb of gold, pardie.a47
A white coat and a blue hood weared he
A baggepipe well could he blow and soun’,
And therewithal he brought us out of town.

A gentle MANCIPLE a48 was there of a temple,
Of which achatoursbuyers mighte take ensample
For to be wise in buying of vitaillevictuals.
For whether that he paid, or took by taileon credit,
Algatealways he waited so in his achatepurchase,
That he was aye before in good estate.
Now is not that of God a full fair grace
That such a lewedunlearned mannes wit shall pacesurpass
The wisdom of an heap of learned men?
Of masters had he more than thries ten,
That were of law expert and curious:
Of which there was a dozen in that house,
Worthy to be stewards of rent and land
Of any lord that is in Engleland,
To make him live by his proper good,
In honour debtless, but if he were woodunless he were mad,
Or live as scarcely as him list desire;
And able for to helpen all a shire
In any case that mighte fall or hap;
And yet this Manciple set their aller capoutwitted them all

The REEVE a49 was a slender choleric man
His beard was shav’d as nigh as ever he can.
His hair was by his eares round y-shorn;
His top was docked like a priest beforn
Full longe were his legges, and full lean
Y-like a staff, there was no calf y-seen
Well could he keep a garner and a binstoreplaces for grain
There was no auditor could on him win
Well wist he by the drought, and by the rain,
The yielding of his seed and of his grain
His lorde’s sheep, his neatcattle, and his dairy
His swine, his horse, his store, and his poultry,
Were wholly in this Reeve’s governing,
And by his cov’nant gave he reckoning,
Since that his lord was twenty year of age;
There could no man bring him in arrearage
There was no bailiff, herd, nor other hineservant
That he ne knew his sleight and his covinetricks and cheating
They were adradin dread of him, as of the death
His wonningabode was full fair upon an heath
With greene trees y-shadow’d was his place.
He coulde better than his lord purchase
Full rich he was y-stored privily
His lord well could he please subtilly,
To give and lend him of his owen good,
And have a thank, and yetalso a coat and hood.
In youth he learned had a good misteretrade
He was a well good wright, a carpentere
This Reeve sate upon a right good stotsteed,
That was all pomelydappled gray, and hightecalled Scot.
A long surcoat of persesky-blue upon he had,
And by his side he bare a rusty blade.
Of Norfolk was this Reeve, of which I tell,
Beside a town men clepencall Baldeswell,
Tucked he was, as is a friar, about,
And ever rode the hinderest of the routhindmost of the group.

A SOMPNOURsummoner was there with us in that place,a50
That had a fire-red cherubinnes face,
For sauseflemered or pimply he was, with eyen narrow.
As hot he was and lecherous as a sparrow,
With scalled browes black, and pilledscanty beard:
Of his visage children were sore afeard.
There n’as quicksilver, litharge, nor brimstone,
Boras, ceruse, nor oil of tartar none,
Nor ointement that woulde cleanse or bite,
That him might helpen of his whelkespustules white,
Nor of the knobbesbuttons sitting on his cheeks.
Well lov’d he garlic, onions, and leeks,
And for to drink strong wine as red as blood.
Then would he speak, and cry as he were wood;
And when that he well drunken had the wine,
Then would he speake no word but Latin.
A fewe termes knew he, two or three,
That he had learned out of some decree;
No wonder is, he heard it all the day.
And eke ye knowen well, how that a jay
Can clepencall “Wat,” as well as can the Pope.
But whoso would in other thing him gropesearch,
Then had he spent all his philosophy,
Aye, Questio quid juris,a51 would he cry.

He was a gentle harlota52 and a kind;
A better fellow should a man not find.
He woulde suffer, for a quart of wine,
A good fellow to have his concubine
A twelvemonth, and excuse him at the full.
Full privily a finch eke could he pull“fleece” a man.
And if he found owhereanywhere a good fellaw,
He woulde teache him to have none awe
In such a case of the archdeacon’s curse;
But ifunless a manne’s soul were in his purse;
For in his purse he should y-punished be.
“Purse is the archedeacon’s hell,” said he.
But well I wot, he lied right indeed:
Of cursing ought each guilty man to dread,
For curse will slay right as assoilingabsolving saveth;
And also ‘ware him of a significavita53.
In danger had he at his owen guise
The younge girles of the diocese, a54
And knew their counsel, and was of their redecounsel.
A garland had he set upon his head,
As great as it were for an alestakeThe post of an alehouse sign:
A buckler had he made him of a cake.

With him there rode a gentle PARDONERE a55
Of Ronceval, his friend and his compere,
That straight was comen from the court of Rome.
Full loud he sang, “Come hither, love, to me”
This Sompnour bare to him a stiff burdounsang the bass,
Was never trump of half so great a soun’.
This Pardoner had hair as yellow as wax,
But smooth it hung, as doth a strikestrip of flax:
By ounces hung his lockes that he had,
And therewith he his shoulders oversprad.
Full thin it lay, by culponslocks, shreds one and one,
But hood for jollity, he weared none,
For it was trussed up in his wallet.
Him thought he rode all of the newe getlatest fashiona56,
Dishevel, save his cap, he rode all bare.
Such glaring eyen had he, as an hare.
A vernicleimage of Christ had he sew’d upon his cap.a57
His wallet lay before him in his lap,
Bretfulbrimful of pardon come from Rome all hot.
A voice he had as small as hath a goat.
No beard had he, nor ever one should have.
As smooth it was as it were new y-shave;
I trow he were a gelding or a mare.
But of his craft, from Berwick unto Ware,
Ne was there such another pardonere.
For in his mailbaga58 he had a pillowberepillowcase,
Which, as he saide, was our Lady’s veil:
He said, he had a gobbetpiece of the sail
That Sainte Peter had, when that he went
Upon the sea, till Jesus Christ him henttook hold of.
He had a cross of latouncopper full of stones,
And in a glass he hadde pigge’s bones.
But with these relics, whenne that he fond
A poore parson dwelling upon lond,
Upon a day he got him more money
Than that the parson got in moneths tway;
And thus with feigned flattering and japesjests,
He made the parson and the people his apes.
But truely to tellen at the last,
He was in church a noble ecclesiast.
Well could he read a lesson or a story,
But alderbestbest of all he sang an offertory:
For well he wiste, when that song was sung,
He muste preach, and well afilepolish his tongue,
To winne silver, as he right well could:
Therefore he sang full merrily and loud.

Now have I told you shortly in a clause
Th’ estate, th’ array, the number, and eke the cause
Why that assembled was this company
In Southwark at this gentle hostelry,
That highte the Tabard, fast by the Bell.a59
But now is time to you for to tell
How that we baren us that ilke nightwhat we did that same night,
When we were in that hostelry alight.
And after will I tell of our voyage,
And all the remnant of our pilgrimage.
But first I pray you of your courtesy,
That ye arette it not my villainycount it not rudeness in me,
Though that I plainly speak in this mattere.
To tellen you their wordes and their cheer;
Not though I speak their wordes properly.
For this ye knowen all so well as I,
Whoso shall tell a tale after a man,
He must rehearse, as nigh as ever he can,
Every word, if it be in his charge,
All speak helet him speak ne’er so rudely and so large;
Or elles he must tell his tale untrue,
Or feigne things, or finde wordes new.
He may not spare, although he were his brother;
He must as well say one word as another.
Christ spake Himself full broad in Holy Writ,
And well ye wot no villainy is it.
Eke Plato saith, whoso that can him read,
The wordes must be cousin to the deed.
Also I pray you to forgive it me,
All have Ialthough I have not set folk in their degree,
Here in this tale, as that they shoulden stand:
My wit is short, ye may well understand.

Great cheere made our Host us every one,
And to the supper set he us anon:
And served us with victual of the best.
Strong was the wine, and well to drink us lestpleased.
A seemly man Our Hoste was withal
For to have been a marshal in an hall.
A large man he was with eyen steepdeep-set.,
A fairer burgess is there none in Cheapa60:
Bold of his speech, and wise and well y-taught,
And of manhoode lacked him right naught.
Eke thereto was he right a merry man,
And after supper playen he began,
And spake of mirth amonges other things,
When that we hadde made our reckonings;
And saide thus; “Now, lordinges, truly
Ye be to me welcome right heartily:
For by my troth, if that I shall not lie,
I saw not this year such a company
At once in this herberowinn, am is now.a61
Fain would I do you mirth, an I wistif I knew how.
And of a mirth I am right now bethought.
To do you easepleasure, and it shall coste nought.
Ye go to Canterbury; God you speed,
The blissful Martyr quite you your meedgrant you what you deserve;
And well I wot, as ye go by the way,
Ye shapen youintend to to talken and to play:
For truely comfort nor mirth is none
To ride by the way as dumb as stone:
And therefore would I make you disport,
As I said erst, and do you some comfort.
And if you liketh all by one assent
Now for to standen at my judgement,
And for to worken as I shall you say
To-morrow, when ye riden on the way,
Now by my father’s soule that is dead,
But ye be merry, smiteth offunless you are merry, smite off my head mine head.
Hold up your hands withoute more speech.

Our counsel was not longe for to seechseek:
Us thought it was not worth to make it wisediscuss it at length,
And granted him withoute more aviseconsideration,
And bade him say his verdict, as him lest.
Lordings (quoth he), now hearken for the best;
But take it not, I pray you, in disdain;
This is the point, to speak it platflat and plain.
That each of you, to shorten with your way
In this voyage, shall tellen tales tway,
To Canterbury-ward, I mean it so,
And homeward he shall tellen other two,
Of aventures that whilom have befall.
And which of you that bear’th him best of all,
That is to say, that telleth in this case
Tales of best sentence and most solace,
Shall have a supper at your aller costat the cost of you all
Here in this place, sitting by this post,
When that ye come again from Canterbury.
And for to make you the more merry,
I will myselfe gladly with you ride,
Right at mine owen cost, and be your guide.
And whoso will my judgement withsay,
Shall pay for all we spenden by the way.
And if ye vouchesafe that it be so,
Tell me anon withoute wordes mo’more,
And I will early shape me therefore.”

This thing was granted, and our oath we swore
With full glad heart, and prayed him also,
That he would vouchesafe for to do so,
And that he woulde be our governour,
And of our tales judge and reportour,
And set a supper at a certain price;
And we will ruled be at his device,
In high and low: and thus by one assent,
We be accorded to his judgement.
And thereupon the wine was fetfetched. anon.
We drunken, and to reste went each one,
Withouten any longer tarrying
A-morrow, when the day began to spring,
Up rose our host, and was our aller cockthe cock to wake us all,
And gather’d us together in a flock,
And forth we ridden all a little space,
Unto the watering of Saint Thomasa62:
And there our host began his horse arrest,
And saide; “Lordes, hearken if you lest.
Ye weet your forword,know your promise and I it record.
If even-song and morning-song accord,
Let see now who shall telle the first tale.
As ever may I drinke wine or ale,
Whoso is rebel to my judgement,
Shall pay for all that by the way is spent.
Now draw ye cutslots, ere that ye farther twingo.
He which that hath the shortest shall begin.”

“Sir Knight (quoth he), my master and my lord,
Now draw the cut, for that is mine accord.
Come near (quoth he), my Lady Prioress,
And ye, Sir Clerk, let be your shamefastness,
Nor study not: lay hand to, every man.”
Anon to drawen every wight began,
And shortly for to tellen as it was,
Were it by a venture, or sortlot, or caschance,
The sooth is this, the cut fell to the Knight,
Of which full blithe and glad was every wight;
And tell he must his tale as was reason,
By forword, and by composition,
As ye have heard; what needeth wordes mo’?
And when this good man saw that it was so,
As he that wise was and obedient
To keep his forword by his free assent,
He said; “Sithensince I shall begin this game,
Why, welcome be the cut in Godde’s name.
Now let us ride, and hearken what I say.”
And with that word we ridden forth our way;
And he began with right a merry cheer
His tale anon, and said as ye shall hear.

WHILOMformerly, as olde stories tellen us,
There was a duke that hightewas called Theseus.b2
Of Athens he was lord and governor,
And in his time such a conqueror
That greater was there none under the sun.
Full many a riche country had he won.
What with his wisdom and his chivalry,
He conquer’d all the regne of Feminie,b3
That whilom was y-cleped Scythia;
And weddede the Queen Hippolyta
And brought her home with him to his country
With muchelgreat glory and great solemnity,
And eke her younge sister Emily,
And thus with vict’ry and with melody
Let I this worthy Duke to Athens ride,
And all his host, in armes him beside.

And certes, if it n’erewere not too long to hear,
I would have told you fully the mannere,
How wonnenwon was the regne of Feminie, b4
By Theseus, and by his chivalry;
And of the greate battle for the nonce
Betwixt Athenes and the Amazons;
And how assieged was Hippolyta,
The faire hardy queen of Scythia;
And of the feast that was at her wedding
And of the tempest at her homecoming.
But all these things I must as now forbear.
I have, God wot, a large field to ear;
And weake be the oxen in my plough;
The remnant of my tale is long enow.
I will not letten eke none of this routhinder any of this company.
Let every fellow tell his tale about,
And let see now who shall the supper win.
There as I leftwhere I left off, I will again begin.

This Duke, of whom I make mentioun,
When he was come almost unto the town,
In all his weal, and in his moste pride,
He was ware, as he cast his eye aside,
Where that there kneeled in the highe way
A company of ladies, tway and tway,
Each after other, clad in clothes black:
But such a cry and such a woe they make,
That in this world n’is creature living,
That hearde such another waimentinglamentingb6
And of this crying would they never stentendesist,
Till they the reines of his bridle hentenseize.
“What folk be ye that at mine homecoming
Perturben so my feaste with crying?”
Quoth Theseus; “Have ye so great envy
Of mine honour, that thus complain and cry?
Or who hath you misbodenwronged, or offended?
Do telle me, if it may be amended;
And why that ye be clad thus all in black?”

The oldest lady of them all then spake,
When she had swooned, with a deadly cheercountenance,
That it was ruthepity for to see or hear.
She saide; “Lord, to whom fortune hath given
Vict’ry, and as a conqueror to liven,
Nought grieveth us your glory and your honour;
But we beseechen mercy and succour.
Have mercy on our woe and our distress;
Some drop of pity, through thy gentleness,
Upon us wretched women let now fall.
For certes, lord, there is none of us all
That hath not been a duchess or a queen;
Now be we caitivescaptives, as it is well seen:
Thanked be Fortune, and her false wheel,
That none estate ensureth to be weleassures no continuance of prosperous estate.
And certes, lord, t’abiden your presence
Here in this temple of the goddess Clemence
We have been waiting all this fortenight:
Now help us, lord, since it lies in thy might.

“I, wretched wight, that weep and waile thus,
Was whilom wife to king Capaneus,
That starfdied at Thebes, cursed be that day:b7
And alle we that be in this array,
And maken all this lamentatioun,
We losten all our husbands at that town,
While that the siege thereabouten lay.
And yet the olde Creon, wellaway!
That lord is now of Thebes the city,
Fulfilled of ire and of iniquity,
He for despite, and for his tyranny,
To do the deade bodies villainyinsult,
Of all our lorde’s, which that been y-slawslain,
Hath all the bodies on an heap y-draw,
And will not suffer them by none assent
Neither to be y-buried, nor y-brentburnt,
But maketh houndes eat them in despite.”
And with that word, withoute more respite
They fallen groff,grovelling and cryden piteously;
“Have on us wretched women some mercy,
And let our sorrow sinken in thine heart.”

This gentle Duke down from his courser start
With hearte piteous, when he heard them speak.
Him thoughte that his heart would all to-break,
When he saw them so piteous and so mateabased
That whilom weren of so great estate.
And in his armes he them all up hentraised, took,
And them comforted in full good intent,
And swore his oath, as he was true knight,
He woulde do so farforthly his mightas far as his power went
Upon the tyrant Creon them to wreakavenge,
That all the people of Greece shoulde speak,
How Creon was of Theseus y-served,
As he that had his death full well deserved.
And right anon withoute more abodedelay
His banner he display’d, and forth he rode
To Thebes-ward, and all his, host beside:
No nernearer Athenes would he go nor ride,
Nor take his ease fully half a day,
But onward on his way that night he lay:
And sent anon Hippolyta the queen,
And Emily her younge sister sheenbright, lovely
Unto the town of Athens for to dwell:
And forth he ritrode; there is no more to tell.

The red statue of Mars with spear and targeshield
So shineth in his white banner large
That all the fieldes glitter up and down:
And by his banner borne is his pennon
Of gold full rich, in which there was y-beatstamped
The Minotaurb8 which that he slew in Crete
Thus rit this Duke, thus rit this conqueror
And in his host of chivalry the flower,
Till that he came to Thebes, and alight
Fair in a field, there as he thought to fight.
But shortly for to speaken of this thing,
With Creon, which that was of Thebes king,
He fought, and slew him manly as a knight
In plain bataille, and put his folk to flight:
And by assault he won the city after,
And rent adown both wall, and spar, and rafter;
And to the ladies he restored again
The bodies of their husbands that were slain,
To do obsequies, as was then the guisecustom.

But it were all too long for to devisedescribe
The greate clamour, and the waimentinglamenting,
Which that the ladies made at the brenningburning
Of the bodies, and the great honour
That Theseus the noble conqueror
Did to the ladies, when they from him went:
But shortly for to tell is mine intent.
When that this worthy Duke, this Theseus,
Had Creon slain, and wonnen Thebes thus,
Still in the field he took all night his rest,
And did with all the country as him lestpleased.
To ransack in the tasheap of bodies dead,
Them for to strip of armourharness and of clothesweed,
The pillerspillagers did their business and cure,b9
After the battle and discomfiture.
And so befell, that in the tas they found,
Through girt with many a grievous bloody wound,
Two younge knightes ligging by and bylying side by side
Both in one armesthe same armour, wrought full richely:
Of whiche two, Arcita hight that one,
And he that other highte Palamon.
Not fully quickalive, nor fully dead they were,
But by their coat-armour, and by their gear,
The heralds knew them well in special,
As those that weren of the blood royal
Of Thebes, and of sistren two y-bornborn of two sisters.
Out of the tas the pillers have them torn,
And have them carried soft unto the tent
Of Theseus, and he full soon them sent
To Athens, for to dwellen in prison
Perpetually, he n’olde no ransonwould take no ransom.
And when this worthy Duke had thus y-done,
He took his host, and home he rit anon
With laurel crowned as a conquerour;
And there he lived in joy and in honour
Term of his life; what needeth wordes mo’?
And in a tower, in anguish and in woe,
Dwellen this Palamon, and eke Arcite,
For evermore, there may no gold them quiteset free

Thus passed year by year, and day by day,
Till it fell ones in a morn of May
That Emily, that fairer was to seen
Than is the lily upon his stalke green,
And fresher than the May with flowers new
(For with the rose colour strove her hue;
I n’otknow not which was the finer of them two),
Ere it was day, as she was wont to do,
She was arisen, and all ready dightdressed,
For May will have no sluggardy a-night;
The season pricketh every gentle heart,
And maketh him out of his sleep to start,
And saith, “Arise, and do thine observance.”

This maketh Emily have remembrance
To do honour to May, and for to rise.
Y-clothed was she fresh for to devise;
Her yellow hair was braided in a tress,
Behind her back, a yarde long I guess.
And in the garden at the sun upristsunrise
She walketh up and down where as her list.
She gathereth flowers, partymingled white and red,
To make a sotelsubtle, well-arranged garland for her head,
And as an angel heavenly she sung.
The greate tower, that was so thick and strong,
Which of the castle was the chief dungeonb10
(Where as these knightes weren in prison,
Of which I tolde you, and telle shall),
Was even joinantadjoining to the garden wall,
There as this Emily had her playing.

Bright was the sun, and clear that morrowning,
And Palamon, this woful prisoner,
As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler,
Was ris’n, and roamed in a chamber on high,
In which he all the noble city sighsaw,
And eke the garden, full of branches green,
There as this fresh Emelia the sheen
Was in her walk, and roamed up and down.
This sorrowful prisoner, this Palamon
Went in his chamber roaming to and fro,
And to himself complaining of his woe:
That he was born, full oft he said, Alas!
And so befell, by aventure or caschance,
That through a window thick of many a bar
Of iron great, and square as any spar,
He cast his eyes upon Emelia,
And therewithal he blentstarted aside and cried, Ah!
As though he stungen were unto the heart.
And with that cry Arcite anon up start,
And saide, “Cousin mine, what aileth thee,
That art so pale and deadly for to see?
Why cried’st thou? who hath thee done offence?
For Godde’s love, take all in patience
Our prisonimprisonment, for it may none other be.
Fortune hath giv’n us this adversity’.
Some wick’wicked aspect or disposition
Of Saturnb11, by some constellation,
Hath giv’n us this, although we had it sworn,
So stood the heaven when that we were born,
We must endure; this is the short and plain.

This Palamon answer’d, and said again:
“Cousin, forsooth of this opinion
Thou hast a vain imagination.
This prison caused me not for to cry;
But I was hurt right now thorough mine eye
Into mine heart; that will my banedestruction be.
The fairness of the lady that I see
Yond in the garden roaming to and fro,
Is cause of all my crying and my woe.
I n’ot wherknow not whether she be woman or goddess,
But Venus is it, soothlytruly as I guess,
And therewithal on knees adown he fill,
And saide: “Venus, if it be your will
You in this garden thus to transfigure
Before me sorrowful wretched creature,
Out of this prison help that we may scape.
And if so be our destiny be shape
By etern word to dien in prison,
Of our lineage have some compassion,
That is so low y-brought by tyranny.”

And with that word Arcita gan espybegan to look forth
Where as this lady roamed to and fro
And with that sight her beauty hurt him so,
That if that Palamon was wounded sore,
Arcite is hurt as much as he, or more.
And with a sigh he saide piteously:
“The freshe beauty slay’th me suddenly
Of her that roameth yonder in the place.
And butunless I have her mercy and her grace,
That I may see her at the leaste way,
I am but dead; there is no more to say.”
This Palamon, when he these wordes heard,
Dispiteouslyangrily he looked, and answer’d:
“Whether say’st thou this in earnest or in play?”
“Nay,” quoth Arcite, “in earnest, by my fayfaith.
God help me so, me lust full ill to playI am in no humour for jesting.”
This Palamon gan knit his browes tway.
“It were,” quoth he, “to thee no great honour
For to be false, nor for to be traitour
To me, that am thy cousin and thy brother
Y-sworn full deep, and each of us to other,
That never for to dien in the pain b12,
Till that the death departen shall us twain,
Neither of us in love to hinder other,
Nor in none other case, my levedear brother;
But that thou shouldest truly farther me
In every case, as I should farther thee.
This was thine oath, and mine also certain;
I wot it well, thou dar’st it not withsayndeny,
Thus art thou of my counsel out of doubt,
And now thou wouldest falsely be about
To love my lady, whom I love and serve,
And ever shall, until mine hearte stervedie
Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not so
I lov’d her first, and tolde thee my woe
As to my counsel, and my brother sworn
To farther me, as I have told beforn.
For which thou art y-bounden as a knight
To helpe me, if it lie in thy might,
Or elles art thou false, I dare well sayn,”

This Arcita full proudly spake again:
“Thou shalt,” quoth he, “be rathersooner false than I,
And thou art false, I tell thee utterly;
For par amour I lov’d her first ere thou.
What wilt thou say? thou wist it not right noweven now thou knowest not
Whether she be a woman or goddess.
Thine is affection of holiness,
And mine is love, as to a creature:
For which I tolde thee mine aventure
As to my cousin, and my brother sworn
I posesuppose, that thou loved’st her beforn:
Wostknow’st thou not well the olde clerke’s sawb13,
That who shall give a lover any law?
Love is a greater lawe, by my pan,
Than may be giv’n to any earthly man:
Therefore positive law, and such decree,
Is broke alway for love in each degree
A man must needes love, maugre his head.
He may not flee it, though he should be dead,
All be shewhether she be maid, or widow, or else wife.
And eke it is not likely all thy life
To standen in her grace, no more than I
For well thou wost thyselfe verily,
That thou and I be damned to prison
Perpetual, us gaineth no ranson.
We strive, as did the houndes for the bone;
They fought all day, and yet their part was none.
There came a kite, while that they were so wroth,
And bare away the bone betwixt them both.
And therefore at the kinge’s court, my brother,
Each man for himselfe, there is no other.
Love if thee list; for I love and aye shall
And soothly, leve brother, this is all.
Here in this prison musten we endure,
And each of us take his Aventure.”

Great was the strife and long between these tway,
If that I hadde leisure for to say;
But to the effect: it happen’d on a day
(To tell it you as shortly as I may),
A worthy duke that hight Perithousb14
That fellow was to the Duke Theseus
Since thilkethat day that they were children litelittle
Was come to Athens, his fellow to visite,
And for to play, as he was wont to do;
For in this world he loved no man so;
And he lov’d him as tenderly again.
So well they lov’d, as olde bookes sayn,
That when that one was dead, soothly to sayn,
His fellow went and sought him down in hell:
But of that story list me not to write.
Duke Perithous loved well Arcite,
And had him known at Thebes year by year:
And finally at request and prayere
Of Perithous, withoute ranson
Duke Theseus him let out of prison,
Freely to go, where him list over all,
In such a guise, as I you tellen shall
This was the forwordpromise, plainly to indite,
Betwixte Theseus and him Arcite:
That if so were, that Arcite were y-found
Ever in his life, by day or night, one stoundb15
In any country of this Theseus,
And he were caught, it was accorded thus,
That with a sword he shoulde lose his head;
There was none other remedy nor redecounsel.
But took his leave, and homeward he him sped;
Let him beware, his necke lieth to wedin pledge.

How great a sorrow suff’reth now Arcite!
The death he feeleth through his hearte smite;
He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously;
To slay himself he waiteth privily.
He said; “Alas the day that I was born!
Now is my prison worse than beforn:
Now is me shapeit is fixed for me eternally to dwell
Not in purgatory, but right in hell.
Alas! that ever I knew Perithous.
For elles had I dwelt with Theseus
Y-fettered in his prison evermo’.
Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.
Only the sight of her, whom that I serve,
Though that I never may her grace deserve,
Would have sufficed right enough for me.
O deare cousin Palamon,” quoth he,
“Thine is the vict’ry of this aventure,
Full blissfully in prison to endure:
In prison? nay certes, in paradise.
Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice,
That hast the sight of her, and I th’ absence.
For possible is, since thou hast her presence,
And art a knight, a worthy and an able,
That by some caschance, since fortune is changeable,
Thou may’st to thy desire sometime attain.
But I that am exiled, and barren
Of alle grace, and in so great despair,
That there n’is earthe, water, fire, nor air,
Nor creature, that of them maked is,
That may me helpe nor comfort in this,
Well ought I sterve in wanhopedie in despair and distress.
Farewell my life, my lustpleasure, and my gladness.
Alas, why plainen men so in commune
Of purveyance of Godi.e. why do men so often complain of God’s providence?, or of Fortune,
That giveth them full oft in many a guise
Well better than they can themselves devise?
Some man desireth for to have richess,
That cause is of his murder or great sickness.
And some man would out of his prison fain,
That in his house is of his meinieservants slain.b16
Infinite harmes be in this mattere.
We wot never what thing we pray for here.
We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.
A drunken man wot well he hath an house,
But he wot not which is the right way thither,
And to a drunken man the way is slitherslippery.
And certes in this world so fare we.
We seeke fast after felicity,
But we go wrong full often truely.
Thus we may sayen all, and namelyespecially I,
That ween’dthought, and had a great opinion,
That if I might escape from prison
Then had I been in joy and perfect heal,
Where now I am exiled from my weal.
Since that I may not see you, Emily,
I am but dead; there is no remedy.”

Upon that other side, Palamon,
When that he wist Arcita was agone,
Much sorrow maketh, that the greate tower
Resounded of his yelling and clamour
The purevery fetters on his shinnes greatb17
Were of his bitter salte teares wet.

“Alas!” quoth he, “Arcita, cousin mine,
Of all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.
Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,
And of my woe thou givest little chargetakest little heed.
Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manheadmanhood, courage,
Assemble all the folk of our kindred,
And make a war so sharp on this country
That by some aventure, or some treaty,
Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife,
For whom that I must needes lose my life.
For as by way of possibility,
Since thou art at thy large, of prison free,
And art a lord, great is thine avantage,
More than is mine, that sterve here in a cage.
For I must weep and wail, while that I live,
With all the woe that prison may me give,
And eke with pain that love me gives also,
That doubles all my torment and my woe.”

Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart
Within his breast, and hentseized him by the heart
So woodlymadly, that he like was to behold
The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.
Then said; “O cruel goddess, that govern
This world with binding of your word eterneternal
And writen in the table of adamant
Your parlementconsultation and your eternal grant,
What is mankind more unto you y-holdby you esteemed
Than is the sheep, that roukethlie huddled together in the fold!
For slain is man, right as another beast;
And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,
And hath sickness, and great adversity,
And oftentimes guilteless, pardieby God
What governance is in your prescience,
That guilteless tormenteth innocence?
And yet increaseth this all my penance,
That man is bounden to his observance
For Godde’s sake to letten of his willrestrain his desire,
Whereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.
And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;
But man after his death must weep and plain,
Though in this worlde he have care and woe:
Withoute doubt it maye standen so.
“The answer of this leave I to divines,
But well I wot, that in this world great pinepain, trouble is;
Alas! I see a serpent or a thief
That many a true man hath done mischief,
Go at his large, and where him list may turn.
But I must be in prison through Saturn,
And eke through Juno, jealous and eke woodmad,
That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood
Of Thebes, with his waste walles wide.
And Venus slay’th me on that other side
For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.”

Now will I stentpause of Palamon a litelittle,
And let him in his prison stille dwell,
And of Arcita forth I will you tell.
The summer passeth, and the nightes long
Increase double-wise the paines strong
Both of the lover and the prisonere.
I n’otknow not which hath the wofuller misterecondition.
For, shortly for to say, this Palamon
Perpetually is damned to prison,
In chaines and in fetters to be dead;
And Arcite is exiled on his headon peril of his head
For evermore as out of that country,
Nor never more he shall his lady see.
You lovers ask I now this question,b18
Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?
The one may see his lady day by day,
But in prison he dwelle must alway.
The other where him list may ride or go,
But see his lady shall he never mo’.
Now deem all as you liste, ye that can,
For I will tell you forth as I began.

When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,
Full oft a day he sweltfainted, and said, “Alas!”
For see this lady he shall never mo’.
And shortly to concluden all his woe,
So much sorrow had never creature
That is or shall be while the world may dure.
His sleep, his meat, his drink is him byrafttaken away from him,
That lean he wexbecame, and dry as any shaft.
His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,
His hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold,
And solitary he was, ever alone,
And wailing all the night, making his moan.
And if he hearde song or instrument,
Then would he weepen, he might not be stentstopped.
So feeble were his spirits, and so low,
And changed so, that no man coulde know
His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.
And in his gearbehaviour for all the world he far’db19
Not only like the lovers’ malady
Of Eros, but rather y-like maniemadness
Engender’d of humours melancholic,
Before his head in his cell fantastic.b20
And shortly turned was all upside down,
Both habit and eke dispositioun,
Of him, this woful lover DanLord Arcite.b21
Why should I all day of his woe indite?
When he endured had a year or two
This cruel torment, and this pain and woe,
At Thebes, in his country, as I said,
Upon a night in sleep as he him laid,
Him thought how that the winged god Mercury
Before him stood, and bade him to be merry.
His sleepy yardrod in hand he bare upright;b22
A hat he wore upon his haires bright.
Arrayed was this god (as he took keepnotice)
As he was when that Argusb23 took his sleep;
And said him thus: “To Athens shalt thou wendgo;
There is thee shapenfixed, prepared of thy woe an end.”
And with that word Arcite woke and start.
“Now truely how sore that e’er me smart,”
Quoth he, “to Athens right now will I fare.
Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare
To see my lady that I love and serve;
In her presence I recke not to sterve.do not care if I die“
And with that word he caught a great mirror,
And saw that changed was all his colour,
And saw his visage all in other kind.
And right anon it ran him ill his mind,
That since his face was so disfigur’d
Of malady the which he had endur’d,
He mighte well, if that he bare him low,lived in lowly fashion
Live in Athenes evermore unknow,
And see his lady wellnigh day by day.
And right anon he changed his array,
And clad him as a poore labourer.
And all alone, save only a squier,
That knew his privitysecrets and all his casfortune,
Which was disguised poorly as he was,
To Athens is he gone the nextenearest way.b24
And to the court he went upon a day,
And at the gate he proffer’d his service,
To drudge and draw, what so men would deviseorder.
And, shortly of this matter for to sayn,
He fell in office with a chamberlain,
The which that dwelling was with Emily.
For he was wise, and coulde soon espy
Of every servant which that served her.
Well could he hewe wood, and water bear,
For he was young and mighty for the nonesoccasion,
And thereto he was strong and big of bones
To do that any wight can him devise.

A year or two he was in this service,
Page of the chamber of Emily the bright;
And Philostrate he saide that he hight.
But half so well belov’d a man as he
Ne was there never in court of his degree.
He was so gentle of conditioun,
That throughout all the court was his renown.
They saide that it were a charity
That Theseus would enhance his degreeelevate him in rank,
And put him in some worshipful service,
There as he might his virtue exercise.
And thus within a while his name sprung
Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue,
That Theseus hath taken him so near,
That of his chamber he hath made him squire,
And gave him gold to maintain his degree;
And eke men brought him out of his country
From year to year full privily his rent.
But honestly and slylydiscreetly, prudently he it spent,
That no man wonder’d how that he it had.
And three year in this wise his life be ladled,
And bare him so in peace and eke in werrewar,
There was no man that Theseus had so derredear.
And in this blisse leave I now Arcite,
And speak I will of Palamon a litelittle.

In darkness horrible, and strong prison,
This seven year hath sitten Palamon,
Forpinedpined, wasted away, what for love, and for distress.
Who feeleth double sorrow and heaviness
But Palamon? that love distrainethafflicts so,
That woodmad out of his wits he went for woe,
And eke thereto he is a prisonere
Perpetual, not only for a year.
Who coulde rhyme in English properly
His martyrdom? forsoothtruly, it is not I;
Therefore I pass as lightly as I may.
It fell that in the seventh year, in May
The thirde night (as olde bookes sayn,
That all this story tellen more plain),
Were it by a venture or destiny
(As when a thing is shapensettled, decreed it shall be),
That soon after the midnight, Palamon
By helping of a friend brake his prison,
And fled the city fast as he might go,
For he had given drink his gaoler so
Of a clary b25, made of a certain wine,
With narcotise and opienarcotics and opium of Thebes fine,
That all the night, though that men would him shake,
The gaoler slept, he mighte not awake:
And thus he fled as fast as ever he may.
The night was short, and faste by the dayclose at hand was the day during which he must cast about, or contrive, to conceal himself.
That needes cast he must himself to hide.
And to a grove faste there beside
With dreadful foot then stalked Palamon.
For shortly this was his opinion,
That in the grove he would him hide all day,
And in the night then would he take his way
To Thebes-ward, his friendes for to pray
On Theseus to help him to warraymake war.b26
And shortly either he would lose his life,
Or winnen Emily unto his wife.
This is th’ effect, and his intention plain.

Now will I turn to Arcita again,
That little wist how nighe was his care,
Till that Fortune had brought him in the snare.
The busy lark, the messenger of day,
Saluteth in her song the morning gray;
And fiery Phoebus riseth up so bright,
That all the orient laugheth at the sight,
And with his streamesrays drieth in the grevesgroves
The silver droppes, hanging on the leaves;
And Arcite, that is in the court royal
With Theseus, his squier principal,
Is ris’n, and looketh on the merry day.
And for to do his observance to May,
Remembering the pointobject of his desire,
He on his courser, starting as the fire,
Is ridden to the fieldes him to play,
Out of the court, were it a mile or tway.
And to the grove, of which I have you told,
By a venture his way began to hold,
To make him a garland of the grevesgroves,
Were it of woodbine, or of hawthorn leaves,
And loud he sang against the sun so sheenshining bright.
“O May, with all thy flowers and thy green,
Right welcome be thou, faire freshe May,
I hope that I some green here getten may.”
And from his courserhorse, with a lusty heart,
Into the grove full hastily he start,
And in a path he roamed up and down,
There as by aventure this Palamon
Was in a bush, that no man might him see,
For sore afeard of his death was he.
Nothing ne knew he that it was Arcite;
God wot he would have trowed it full litefull little believed it.
But sooth is said, gone since full many years,
The field hath eyeneyes, and the wood hath ears,
It is full fair a man to bear him evento be on his guard,
For all day meeten men at unset stevenb27.
Full little wot Arcite of his fellaw,
That was so nigh to hearken of his sawsaying, speech,
For in the bush he sitteth now full still.
When that Arcite had roamed all his fill,
And sungen all the roundelsang the roundelayb28 lustily,
Into a study he fell suddenly,
As do those lovers in their quainte gearsodd fashions,
Now in the croptree-top, and now down in the breresbriars,b29
Now up, now down, as bucket in a well.
Right as the Friday, soothly for to tell,
Now shineth it, and now it raineth fast,
Right so can gearychangeful Venus overcast
The heartes of her folk, right as her day
Is gearfulchangeful, right so changeth she array.
Seldom is Friday all the weeke like.
When Arcite had y-sung, he gan to sikesigh,
And sat him down withouten any more:
“Alas!” quoth he, “the day that I was bore!
How longe, Juno, through thy cruelty
Wilt thou warrayentorment Thebes the city?
Alas! y-brought is to confusion
The blood royal of Cadm’ and Amphion:
Of Cadmus, which that was the firste man,
That Thebes built, or first the town began,
And of the city first was crowned king.
Of his lineage am I, and his offspring
By very line, as of the stock royal;
And now I am so caitiff and so thrallwretched and enslaved,
That he that is my mortal enemy,
I serve him as his squier poorely.
And yet doth Juno me well more shame,
For I dare not beknowacknowledge mine owen name,b30
But there as I was wont to hight Arcite,
Now hight I Philostrate, not worth a mite.
Alas! thou fell Mars, and alas! Juno,
Thus hath your ire our lineage all fordoundone, ruined
Save only me, and wretched Palamon,
That Theseus martyreth in prison.
And over all this, to slay me utterly,
Love hath his fiery dart so brenninglyburningly
Y-sticked through my true careful heart,
That shapen was my death erst than my shert. b31
Ye slay me with your eyen, Emily;
Ye be the cause wherefore that I die.
Of all the remnant of mine other care
Ne set I not the mountance of a tarevalue of a straw,
So that I could do aught to your pleasance.”

And with that word he fell down in a trance
A longe time; and afterward upstart
This Palamon, that thought thorough his heart
He felt a cold sword suddenly to glide:
For ire he quokequaked, no longer would he hide.
And when that he had heard Arcite’s tale,
As he were woodmad, with face dead and pale,
He start him up out of the bushes thick,
And said: “False Arcita, false traitor wick’wicked,
Now art thou hentcaught, that lov’st my lady so,
For whom that I have all this pain and woe,
And art my blood, and to my counsel sworn,
As I full oft have told thee herebeforn,
And hast bejapeddeceived, imposed upon here Duke Theseus,
And falsely changed hast thy name thus;
I will be dead, or elles thou shalt die.
Thou shalt not love my lady Emily,
But I will love her only and no mo’;
For I am Palamon thy mortal foe.
And though I have no weapon in this place,
But out of prison am astartescaped by grace,
I dreadedoubt not that either thou shalt die,
Or else thou shalt not loven Emily.
Choose which thou wilt, for thou shalt not astart.”

This Arcite then, with full dispiteouswrathful heart,
When he him knew, and had his tale heard,
As fierce as lion pulled out a swerd,
And saide thus; “By God that sitt’th above,
N’ere itwere it not that thou art sick, and wood for love,
And eke that thou no weap’n hast in this place,
Thou should’st never out of this grove pace,
That thou ne shouldest dien of mine hand.
For I defy the surety and the band,
Which that thou sayest I have made to thee.
What? very fool, think well that love is free;
And I will love her maugredespite all thy might.
But, for thou art a worthy gentle knight,
And wilnest to darraine her by bataillewill reclaim her by combat,
Have here my troth, to-morrow I will not fail,
Without weetingknowledge of any other wight,
That here I will be founden as a knight,
And bringe harnessarmour and arms right enough for thee;
And choose the best, and leave the worst for me.
And meat and drinke this night will I bring
Enough for thee, and clothes for thy bedding.
And if so be that thou my lady win,
And slay me in this wood that I am in,
Thou may’st well have thy lady as for me.”
This Palamon answer’d, “I grant it thee.”
And thus they be departed till the morrow,
When each of them hath laid his faith to borrowpledged his faith.

O Cupid, out of alle charity!
O Regnequeen that wilt no fellow have with thee!b32
Full sooth is said, that love nor lordeship
Will not, his thanksthanks to him, have any fellowship.
Well finden that Arcite and Palamon.
Arcite is ridd anon unto the town,
And on the morrow, ere it were daylight,
Full privily two harness hath he dightprepared,
Both suffisant and meete to darrainecontest
The battle in the field betwixt them twain.
And on his horse, alone as he was born,
He carrieth all this harness him beforn;
And in the grove, at time and place y-set,
This Arcite and this Palamon be met.
Then change gan the colour of their face;
Right as the hunter in the regnekingdom of Thrace
That standeth at a gappe with a spear
When hunted is the lion or the bear,
And heareth him come rushing in the grevesgroves,
And breaking both the boughes and the leaves,
Thinketh, “Here comes my mortal enemy,
Withoute fail, he must be dead or I;
For either I must slay him at the gap;
Or he must slay me, if that me mishap:”
So fared they, in changing of their hue
As far as either of them other knewWhen they recognised each other afar off.
There was no good day, and no saluting,
But straight, withoute wordes rehearsing,
Evereach of them holp to arm the other,
As friendly, as he were his owen brother.
And after that, with sharpe speares strong
They foinedthrust each at other wonder long.
Thou mightest weenethink, that this Palamon
In fighting were as a woodmad lion,
And as a cruel tiger was Arcite:
As wilde boars gan they together smite,
That froth as white as foam, for ire woodmad with anger.
Up to the ancle fought they in their blood.
And in this wise I let them fighting dwell,
And forth I will of Theseus you tell.

The Destiny, minister general,
That executeth in the world o’er all
The purveyanceforeordination, that God hath seen beforn;
So strong it is, that though the world had sworn
The contrary of a thing by yea or nay,
Yet some time it shall fallen on a day
That falleth not eftagain in a thousand year.
For certainly our appetites here,
Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love,
All is this ruled by the sighteye, intelligence, power above.
This mean I now by mighty Theseus,
That for to hunten is so desirous –
And namelyespecially the greate hart in May –
That in his bed there dawneth him no day
That he n’is clad, and ready for to ride
With hunt and horn, and houndes him beside.
For in his hunting hath he such delight,
That it is all his joy and appetite
To be himself the greate harte’s banedestruction
For after Mars he serveth now Diane.
Clear was the day, as I have told ere this,
And Theseus, with alle joy and bliss,
With his Hippolyta, the faire queen,
And Emily, y-clothed all in green,
On hunting be they ridden royally.
And to the grove, that stood there faste by,
In which there was an hart, as men him told,
Duke Theseus the straighte way doth hold,
And to the laundplain he rideth him full right,b33
There was the hart y-wont to have his flight,
And over a brook, and so forth on his way.
This Duke will have a course at him or tway
With houndes, such as him lustpleased to command.
And when this Duke was come to the laund,
Under the sun he looked, and anon
He was ware of Arcite and Palamon,
That foughte bremefiercely, as it were bulles two.
The brighte swordes wente to and fro
So hideously, that with the leaste stroke
It seemed that it woulde fell an oak,
But what they were, nothing yet he woteknew.
This Duke his courser with his spurres smote,
And at a startsuddenly he was betwixt them two,
And pulled out a sword and cried, “Ho!
No more, on pain of losing of your head.
By mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead
That smiteth any stroke, that I may see!
But tell to me what mistermanner, kind men ye be,b34
That be so hardy for to fighte here
Withoute judge or other officer,
As though it were in listes royally. b35
This Palamon answered hastily,
And saide: “Sir, what needeth wordes mo’?
We have the death deserved bothe two,
Two woful wretches be we, and caitives,
That be accumberedburdened of our own lives,
And as thou art a rightful lord and judge,
So give us neither mercy nor refuge.
And slay me first, for sainte charity,
But slay my fellow eke as well as me.
Or slay him first; for, though thou know it litelittle,
This is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite
That from thy land is banisht on his head,
For which he hath deserved to be dead.
For this is he that came unto thy gate
And saide, that he highte Philostrate.
Thus hath he japeddeceived thee full many year,
And thou hast made of him thy chief esquier;
And this is he, that loveth Emily.
For since the day is come that I shall die
I make pleinlyfully, unreservedly my confession,
That I am thilkethat same woful Palamon,b36
That hath thy prison broken wickedly.
I am thy mortal foe, and it am I
That so hot loveth Emily the bright,
That I would die here present in her sight.
Therefore I aske death and my jewisejudgement.
But slay my fellow eke in the same wise,
For both we have deserved to be slain.”

This worthy Duke answer’d anon again,
And said, “This is a short conclusion.
Your own mouth, by your own confession
Hath damned you, and I will it record;
It needeth not to pain you with the cord;
Ye shall be dead, by mighty Mars the Red.b37

The queen anon for very womanhead
Began to weep, and so did Emily,
And all the ladies in the company.
Great pity was it as it thought them all,
That ever such a chance should befall,
For gentle men they were, of great estate,
And nothing but for love was this debate
They saw their bloody woundes wide and sore,
And cried all at once, both less and more,
“Have mercy, Lord, upon us women all.”
And on their bare knees adown they fall
And would have kissed his feet there as he stood,
Till at the last aslaked was his moodhis anger was appeased
(For pity runneth soon in gentle heart);
And though at first for ire he quoke and start
He hath consider’d shortly in a clause
The trespass of them both, and eke the cause:
And although that his ire their guilt accused
Yet in his reason he them both excused;
As thus; he thoughte well that every man
Will help himself in love if that he can,
And eke deliver himself out of prison.
Of women, for they wepten ever-in-one:continually
And eke his hearte had compassion
And in his gentle heart he thought anon,
And soft unto himself he saide: “Fie
Upon a lord that will have no mercy,
But be a lion both in word and deed,
To them that be in repentance and dread,
As well as-to a proud dispiteousunpitying man
That will maintaine what he first began.
That lord hath little of discretion,
That in such case can no divisioncan make no distinction:
But weigheth pride and humbless after onealike.”
And shortly, when his ire is thus agone,
He gan to look on them with eyen lightgentle, lenient,
And spake these same wordes all on height.aloud

“The god of love, ah! benedicitebless ye him,
How mighty and how great a lord is he!
Against his might there gaineavail, conquer none obstacles,
He may be called a god for his miracles
For he can maken at his owen guise
Of every heart, as that him list devise.
Lo here this Arcite, and this Palamon,
That quietly were out of my prison,
And might have lived in Thebes royally,
And weetknew I am their mortal enemy,
And that their death li’th in my might also,
And yet hath love, maugre their eyen twoin spite of their eyes,
Y-brought them hither bothe for to die.
Now look ye, is not this an high folly?
Who may not be a fool, if but he love?
Behold, for Godde’s sake that sits above,
See how they bleed! be they not well array’d?
Thus hath their lord, the god of love, them paid
Their wages and their fees for their service;
And yet they weene for to be full wise,
That serve love, for aught that may befall.
But this is yet the beste gamejoke of all,
That she, for whom they have this jealousy,
Can them therefor as muchel thank as me.
She wot no more of all this hote farehot behaviour,
By God, than wot a cuckoo or an hare.
But all must be assayed hot or cold;
A man must be a fool, or young or old;
I wot it by myself full yore agonelong years ago:
For in my time a servant was I one.
And therefore since I know of love’s pain,
And wot how sore it can a man distraindistress,
As he that oft hath been caught in his lastsnare,b38
I you forgive wholly this trespass,
At request of the queen that kneeleth here,
And eke of Emily, my sister dear.
And ye shall both anon unto me swear,
That never more ye shall my country dereinjure
Nor make war upon me night nor day,
But be my friends in alle that ye may.
I you forgive this trespass every dealcompletely.
And they him sware his askingwhat he asked fair and well,
And him of lordship and of mercy pray’d,
And he them granted grace, and thus he said:

“To speak of royal lineage and richess,
Though that she were a queen or a princess,
Each of you both is worthy doubteless
To wedde when time is; but natheless
I speak as for my sister Emily,
For whom ye have this strife and jealousy,
Ye wotknow yourselves, she may not wed the two
At once, although ye fight for evermo:
But one of you, all be him loth or lief,whether or not he wishes
He must go pipe into an ivy leaf“go whistle”:
This is to say, she may not have you both,
All be ye never so jealous, nor so wroth.
And therefore I you put in this degree,
That each of you shall have his destiny
As him is shapeas is decreed for him; and hearken in what wise
Lo hear your end of that I shall devise.
My will is this, for plain conclusion
Withouten any replicationreply,
If that you liketh, take it for the best,
That evereach of you shall go where him lesthe pleases,
Freely without ransom or danger;
And this day fifty weekes, farre ne nerreneither more nor less,
Evereach of you shall bring an hundred knights,
Armed for listes up at alle rights
All ready to darrainecontend for her by bataille,
And this behetepromise I you withoute fail
Upon my troth, and as I am a knight,
That whether of you bothe that hath might,
That is to say, that whether he or thou
May with his hundred, as I spake of now,
Slay his contrary, or out of listes drive,
Him shall I given Emily to wive,
To whom that fortune gives so fair a grace.
The listes shall I make here in this place.
And God so wisly on my soule ruemay God as surely have mercy on my soul,
As I shall even judge be and true.
Ye shall none other ende with me maken
Than one of you shalle be dead or taken.
And if you thinketh this is well y-said,
Say your adviceopinion, and hold yourselves apaidsatisfied.
This is your end, and your conclusion.”
Who looketh lightly now but Palamon?
Who springeth up for joye but Arcite?
Who could it tell, or who could it indite,
The joye that is maked in the place
When Theseus hath done so fair a grace?
But down on knees went every manner wightkind of person,
And thanked him with all their heartes’ might,
And namelyespecially these Thebans ofte sitheoftentimes.
And thus with good hope and with hearte blithe
They take their leave, and homeward gan they ride
To Thebes-ward, with his old walles wide.

I trow men woulde deem it negligence,
If I forgot to telle the dispenceexpenditure
Of Theseus, that went so busily
To maken up the listes royally,
That such a noble theatre as it was,
I dare well say, in all this world there n’aswas not.
The circuit a mile was about,
Walled of stone, and ditched all without.
Round was the shape, in manner of compass,
Full of degrees, the height of sixty pasb39
That when a man was set on one degree
He lettedhindered not his fellow for to see.
Eastward there stood a gate of marble white,
Westward right such another opposite.
And, shortly to conclude, such a place
Was never on earth made in so little space,
For in the land there was no craftes-man,
That geometry or arsmetrikearithmetic canknew,
Nor pourtrayorportrait painter, nor carver of images,
That Theseus ne gave him meat and wages
The theatre to make and to devise.
And for to do his rite and sacrifice
He eastward hath upon the gate above,
In worship of Venus, goddess of love,
Done makecaused to be made an altar and an oratory;
And westward, in the mind and in memory
Of Mars, he maked hath right such another,
That coste largely of gold a fothera great amount.
And northward, in a turret on the wall,
Of alabaster white and red coral
An oratory riche for to see,
In worship of Diane of chastity,
Hath Theseus done work in noble wise.
But yet had I forgotten to devisedescribe
The noble carving, and the portraitures,
The shape, the countenance of the figures
That weren in there oratories three.

First in the temple of Venus may’st thou see
Wrought on the wall, full piteous to behold,
The broken sleepes, and the sikessighes cold,
The sacred teares, and the waimentingslamentings,
The fiery strokes of the desirings,
That Love’s servants in this life endure;
The oathes, that their covenants assure.
Pleasance and Hope, Desire, Foolhardiness,
Beauty and Youth, and Bawdry and Richess,
Charms and Sorc’ry, Leasingsfalsehoods and Flattery,
Dispence, Business, and Jealousy,
That wore of yellow goldessunflowers a garland,b40
And had a cuckoo sitting on her hand,
Feasts, instruments, and caroles and dances,
Lust and array, and all the circumstances
Of Love, which I reckon’d and reckon shall
In order, were painted on the wall,
And more than I can make of mention.
For soothly all the mount of Citheron,b41
Where Venus hath her principal dwelling,
Was showed on the wall in pourtraying,
With all the garden, and the lustinesspleasantness.
Nor was forgot the porter Idleness,
Nor Narcissus the fair of yore agoneolden times,
Nor yet the folly of King Solomon,
Nor yet the greate strength of Hercules,
Th’ enchantments of Medea and Circes,
Nor of Turnus the hardy fierce courage,
The rich Croesus caitif in servage.abased into slavery b42
Thus may ye see, that wisdom nor richess,
Beauty, nor sleight, nor strength, nor hardiness
Ne may with Venus holde champartiedivided possession,b43
For as her liste the world may she gieguide.
Lo, all these folk so caught were in her lassnare
Till they for woe full often said, Alas!
Suffice these ensamples one or two,
Although I could reckon a thousand mo’.

The statue of Venus, glorious to see
Was naked floating in the large sea,
And from the navel down all cover’d was
With waves green, and bright as any glass.
A citole b44 in her right hand hadde she,
And on her head, full seemly for to see,
A rose garland fresh, and well smelling,
Above her head her doves flickering
Before her stood her sone Cupido,
Upon his shoulders winges had he two;
And blind he was, as it is often seen;
A bow he bare, and arrows bright and keen.

Why should I not as well eke tell you all
The portraiture, that was upon the wall
Within the temple of mighty Mars the Red?
All painted was the wall in length and bredebreadth
Like to the estresinterior chambers of the grisly place
That hight the great temple of Mars in Thrace,
In thilkethat cold and frosty region,
There as Mars hath his sovereign mansion.
In which there dwelled neither man nor beast,
With knotty gnarrygnarled barren trees old
Of stubbes sharp and hideous to behold;
In which there ran a rumble and a soughgroaning noise,
As though a storm should bursten every bough:
And downward from an hill under a bentslope
There stood the temple of Mars Armipotent,
Wrought all of burnish’d steel, of which th’ entry
Was long and strait, and ghastly for to see.
And thereout came a rage and such a visesuch a furious voice,
That it made all the gates for to rise.
The northern light in at the doore shone,
For window on the walle was there none
Through which men mighten any light discern.
The doors were all of adamant etern,
Y-clenched overthwart and ende-longcrossways and lengthways
With iron tough, and, for to make it strong,
Every pillar the temple to sustain
Was tunne-greatthick as a tun (barrel), of iron bright and sheen.
There saw I first the dark imagining
Of felony, and all the compassing;
The cruel ire, as red as any gledelive coal,
The picke-purseb45, and eke the pale dread;
The smiler with the knife under the cloak,
The shepenstable burning with the blacke smokeb46
The treason of the murd’ring in the bed,
The open war, with woundes all be-bled;
Contekecontention, discord with bloody knife, and sharp menace.
All full of chirkingcreaking, jarring noise was that sorry place.
The slayer of himself eke saw I there,
His hearte-blood had bathed all his hair:
The nail y-driven in the shodehair of the head at night,b47
The colde death, with mouth gaping upright.
Amiddes of the temple sat Mischance,
With discomfort and sorry countenance;
Eke saw I WoodnessMadness laughing in his rage,
Armed Complaint, OutheesOutcry, and fierce Outrage;
The carraincorpse in the bush, with throat y-corveslashed,
A thousand slain, and not of qualm y-storvedead of sickness;
The tyrant, with the prey by force y-reft;
The town destroy’d, that there was nothing left.
Yet saw I brentburnt the shippes hoppesteres, b48
The hunter strangled with the wilde bears:
The sow fretingdevouring the child right in the cradle;b49
The cook scalded, for all his longe ladle.
Nor was forgot, by th’infortune of Martthrough the misfortune of war
The carter overridden with his cart;
Under the wheel full low he lay adown.
There were also of Mars’ division,
The armourer, the bowyermaker of bows, and the smith,
That forgeth sharp swordes on his stithanvil.
And all above depainted in a tower
Saw I Conquest, sitting in great honour,
With thilkethat sharpe sword over his head
Hanging by a subtle y-twined thread.
Painted the slaughter was of Juliusb50,
Of cruel Nero, and Antonius:
Although at that time they were yet unborn,
Yet was their death depainted there beforn,
By menacing of Mars, right by figure,
So was it showed in that portraiture,
As is depainted in the stars above,
Who shall be slain, or elles dead for love.
Sufficeth one ensample in stories old,
I may not reckon them all, though I wo’ld.

The statue of Mars upon a cartechariot stood
Armed, and looked grim as he were woodmad,
And over his head there shone two figures
Of starres, that be cleped in scriptures,
That one Puella, that other Rubeus. b51
This god of armes was arrayed thus:
A wolf there stood before him at his feet
With eyen red, and of a man he eat:
With subtle pencil painted was this story,
In redoutingreverance, fear of Mars and of his glory.

Now to the temple of Dian the chaste
As shortly as I can I will me haste,
To telle you all the descriptioun.
Depainted be the walles up and down
Of hunting and of shamefast chastity.
There saw I how woful Calistope,b52
When that Dian aggrieved was with her,
Was turned from a woman to a bear,
And after was she made the lodestarpole star:
Thus was it painted, I can say no farfarther;
Her son is eke a star as men may see.
There saw I Dane b53 turn’d into a tree,
I meane not the goddess Diane,
But Peneus’ daughter, which that hight Dane.
There saw I Actaeon an hart y-makedmade,
For vengeance that he saw Dian all naked:
I saw how that his houndes have him caught,
And fretendevour him, for that they knew him not.
Yet painted was, a little farthermore
How Atalanta hunted the wild boar;
And Meleager, and many other mo’,
For which Diana wrought them care and woe.
There saw I many another wondrous story,
The which me list not drawen to memory.
This goddess on an hart full high was setseated,
With smalle houndes all about her feet,
And underneath her feet she had a moon,
Waxing it was, and shoulde wane soon.
In gaudy green her statue clothed was,
With bow in hand, and arrows in a casequiver.
Her eyen caste she full low adown,
Where Pluto hath his darke regioun.
A woman travailing was her beforn,
But, for her child so longe was unborn,
Full piteously Lucina b54 gan she call,
And saide; “Help, for thou may’st best of all.”
Well could he painte lifelike that it wrought;
With many a florin he the hues had bought.
Now be these listes made, and Theseus,
That at his greate cost arrayed thus
The temples, and the theatre every dealpart,b55
When it was done, him liked wonder well.

But stintcease speaking I will of Theseus a litelittle,
And speak of Palamon and of Arcite.
The day approacheth of their returning,
That evereach an hundred knights should bring,
The battle to darrainecontest as I you told;
And to Athens, their covenant to hold,
Hath ev’reach of them brought an hundred knights,
Well-armed for the war at alle rights.
And sickerlysurelyb56 there trowedbelieved many a man,
That never, sithensince that the world began,
For to speaken of knighthood of their hand,
As far as God hath maked sea and land,
Was, of so few, so noble a company.
For every wight that loved chivalry,
And would, his thankes, have a passant namethanks to his own efforts, have a surpassing name,
Had prayed, that he might be of that game,
And well was him, that thereto chosen was.
For if there fell to-morrow such a case,
Ye knowe well, that every lusty knight,
That loveth par amour, and hath his might
Were it in Engleland, or elleswhere,
They would, their thankes, willen to be there,
T’ fight for a lady; Benedicite,
It were a lustypleasing sighte for to see.
And right so fared they with Palamon;
With him there wente knightes many one.
Some will be armed in an habergeon,
And in a breast-plate, and in a giponshort doublet.;
And some will have a pair of platesback and front armour large;
And some will have a PrussePrussian shield, or targe;
Some will be armed on their legges weel;
Some have an axe, and some a mace of steel.
There is no newe guisefashion, but it was old.
Armed they weren, as I have you told,
Evereach after his opinion.
There may’st thou see coming with Palamon
Licurgus himself, the great king of Thrace:
Black was his beard, and manly was his face.
The circles of his eyen in his head
They glowed betwixte yellow and red,
And like a griffin looked he about,
With kempedb57 haires on his browes stout;
His limbs were great, his brawns were hard and strong,
His shoulders broad, his armes round and long.
And as the guisefashion was in his country,
Full high upon a car of gold stood he,
With foure white bulles in the trace.
Instead of coat-armour on his harness,
With yellow nails, and bright as any gold,
He had a beare’s skin, coal-black for oldage.
His long hair was y-kempt behind his back,
As any raven’s feather it shone for black.
A wreath of gold arm-greatthick as a man’s arm, of huge weight,
Upon his head sate, full of stones bright,
Of fine rubies and clear diamants.
About his car there wente white alaunsgreyhounds,b58
Twenty and more, as great as any steer,
To hunt the lion or the wilde bear,
And follow’d him, with muzzle fast y-bound,
Collars of gold, and torettesrings filed round.
An hundred lordes had he in his routretinue
Armed full well, with heartes stern and stout.

With Arcita, in stories as men find,
The great Emetrius the king of Ind,
Upon a steede baybay horse trapped in steel,
Cover’d with cloth of gold diapreddecorated well,
Came riding like the god of armes, Mars.
His coat-armour was of a cloth of Tarsa kind of silk,
Couchedtrimmed with pearls white and round and great
His saddle was of burnish’d gold new beat;
A mantelet on his shoulders hanging,
Bretfulbrimful of rubies red, as fire sparkling.
His crispe hair like ringes was y-run,
And that was yellow, glittering as the sun.
His nose was high, his eyen bright citrinepale yellow,
His lips were round, his colour was sanguine,
A fewe fracknesfreckles in his face y-sprentsprinkled,
Betwixte yellow and black somedeal y-mentmixedb59
And as a lion he his looking castcast about his eyes
Of five and twenty year his age I castreckon
His beard was well begunnen for to spring;
His voice was as a trumpet thundering.
Upon his head he wore of laurel green
A garland fresh and lusty to be seen;
Upon his hand he bare, for his delight,
An eagle tame, as any lily white.
An hundred lordes had he with him there,
All armed, save their heads, in all their gear,
Full richely in alle manner things.
For trust ye well, that earles, dukes, and kings
Were gather’d in this noble company,
For love, and for increase of chivalry.
About this king there ran on every part
Full many a tame lion and leopart.
And in this wise these lordes all and someall and sundry
Be on the Sunday to the city come
Aboute primeb60, and in the town alight.

This Theseus, this Duke, this worthy knight
When he had brought them into his city,
And innedlodged them, ev’reach at his degree,
He feasteth them, and doth so great labour
To easen themmake them comfortable, and do them all honour,
That yet men weenethink that no mannes wit
Of none estate could amendenimprove it.
The minstrelsy, the service at the feast,
The greate giftes to the most and least,
The rich array of Theseus’ palace,
Nor who sate first or last upon the dais.b61
What ladies fairest be, or best dancing
Or which of them can carol best or sing,
Or who most feelingly speaketh of love;
What hawkes sitten on the perch above,
What houndes liggenlie on the floor adown,
Of all this now make I no mentioun
But of th’effect; that thinketh me the best
Now comes the point, and hearken if you lest.please

The Sunday night, ere day began to spring,
When Palamon the larke hearde sing,
Although it were not day by houres two,
Yet sang the lark, and Palamon right thothen
With holy heart, and with an high courage,
Arose, to wendengo on his pilgrimage
Unto the blissful Cithera benign,
I meane Venus, honourable and digneworthy.
And in her hour b62 he walketh forth a pace
Unto the listes, where her temple was,
And down he kneeleth, and with humble cheerdemeanour
And hearte sore, he said as ye shall hear.

“Fairest of fair, O lady mine Venus,
Daughter to Jove, and spouse of Vulcanus,
Thou gladder of the mount of Citheron!b41
For thilke love thou haddest to Adon b63
Have pity on my bitter teares smart,
And take mine humble prayer to thine heart.
Alas! I have no language to tell
Th’effecte, nor the torment of mine hell;
Mine hearte may mine harmes not betray;
I am so confused, that I cannot say.
But mercy, lady bright, that knowest well
My thought, and seest what harm that I feel.
Consider all this, and rue upontake pity on my sore,
As wislytruly as I shall for evermore
Enforce my might, thy true servant to be,
And holde war alway with chastity:
That make I mine avowvow, promise, so ye me help.
I keepe not of armes for to yelp,boast
Nor ask I not to-morrow to have victory,
Nor renown in this case, nor vaine glory
Of prize of armespraise for valour, blowing up and down,
But I would have fully possessioun
Of Emily, and die in her service;
Find thou the manner how, and in what wise.
I recke not butdo not know whether it may better be
To have vict’ry of them, or they of me,
So that I have my lady in mine arms.
For though so be that Mars is god of arms,
Your virtue is so great in heaven above,
That, if you list, I shall well have my love.
Thy temple will I worship evermo’,
And on thine altar, where I ride or go,
I will do sacrifice, and fires betemake, kindle.
And if ye will not so, my lady sweet,
Then pray I you, to-morrow with a spear
That Arcita me through the hearte bear
Then reck I not, when I have lost my life,
Though that Arcita win her to his wife.
This is th’ effect and end of my prayere, –
Give me my love, thou blissful lady dear.”
When th’ orison was done of Palamon,
His sacrifice he did, and that anon,
Full piteously, with alle circumstances,
All tell I not as nowalthough I tell not now his observances.
But at the last the statue of Venus shook,
And made a signe, whereby that he took
That his prayer accepted was that day.
For though the signe shewed a delay,
Yet wist he well that granted was his boon;
And with glad heart he went him home full soon.

The third hour unequal b64 that Palamon
Began to Venus’ temple for to gon,
Up rose the sun, and up rose Emily,
And to the temple of Dian gan hie.
Her maidens, that she thither with her ladled,
Th’ incense, the clothes, and the remnant all
That to the sacrifice belonge shall,
The hornes full of mead, as was the guise;
There lacked nought to do her sacrifice.
Smokingdraping the temple full of clothes fair, b65
This Emily with hearte debonnairgentle
Her body wash’d with water of a well.
But how she did her rite I dare not tell;
Butunless it be any thing in general;
And yet it were a gamepleasure to hearen all
To him that meaneth well it were no charge:
But it is good a man to be at largedo as he will.
Her bright hair combed was, untressed all.
A coronet of green oak cerriall b66
Upon her head was set full fair and meet.
Two fires on the altar gan she bete,
And did her thinges, as men may behold
In Stace of Thebes b67, and these bookes old.
When kindled was the fire, with piteous cheer
Unto Dian she spake as ye may hear.

“O chaste goddess of the woodes green,
To whom both heav’n and earth and sea is seen,
Queen of the realm of Pluto dark and low,
Goddess of maidens, that mine heart hast know
Full many a year, and wostknowest what I desire,
To keep me from the vengeance of thine ire,
That Actaeon aboughteearned; suffered from cruelly:
Chaste goddess, well wottest thou that I
Desire to be a maiden all my life,
Nor never will I be no love nor wife.
I am, thou wostknowest, yet of thy company,
A maid, and love hunting and veneryfield sports,
And for to walken in the woodes wild,
And not to be a wife, and be with child.
Nought will I know the company of man.
Now help me, lady, since ye may and can,
For those three formes b68 that thou hast in thee.
And Palamon, that hath such love to me,
And eke Arcite, that loveth me so sore,
This grace I pray thee withoute more,
As sende love and peace betwixt them two:
And from me turn away their heartes so,
That all their hote love, and their desire,
And all their busy torment, and their fire,
Be queintquenched, or turn’d into another place.
And if so be thou wilt do me no grace,
Or if my destiny be shapen so
That I shall needes have one of them two,
So send me him that most desireth me.
Behold, goddess of cleane chastity,
The bitter tears that on my cheekes fall.
Since thou art maid, and keeper of us all,
My maidenhead thou keep and well conserve,
And, while I live, a maid I will thee serve.

The fires burn upon the altar clear,
While Emily was thus in her prayere:
But suddenly she saw a sighte quaintstrange.
For right anon one of the fire’s queint
And quick’di.e. went out and revived again, and after that anon
That other fire was queint, and all agone:
And as it queint, it made a whisteling,
As doth a brande wet in its burning.
And at the brandes end outran anon
As it were bloody droppes many one:
For which so sore aghast was Emily,
That she was well-nigh mad, and gan to cry,
For she ne wiste what it signified;
But onely for feare thus she cried,
And wept, that it was pity for to hear.
And therewithal Diana gan appear
With bow in hand, right as an hunteress,
And saide; “Daughter, stintcease thine heaviness.
Among the goddes high it is affirm’d,
And by eternal word writ and confirm’d,
Thou shalt be wedded unto one of thothose
That have for thee so muche care and woe:
But unto which of them I may not tell.
Farewell, for here I may no longer dwell.
The fires which that on mine altar brennburn,
Shall thee declaren, ere that thou go hennehence,
Thine aventure of love, as in this case.”
And with that word, the arrows in the casequiver
Of the goddess did clatter fast and ring,
And forth she went, and made a vanishing,
For which this Emily astonied was,
And saide; “What amounteth this, alas!
I put me under thy protection,
Diane, and in thy disposition.”
And home she went anon the nextenearest way.
This is th’ effect, there is no more to say.

The nexte hour of Mars following this
Arcite to the temple walked is
Of fierce Mars, to do his sacrifice
With all the rites of his pagan guise.
With piteouspious heart and high devotion
Right thus to Mars he said his orison
“O stronge god, that in the regnesrealms old
Of Thrace honoured art, and lord y-holdheld
And hast in every regne, and every land
Of armes all the bridle in thine hand,
And them fortunest as thee list devisesend them fortune as you please,
Accept of me my piteous sacrifice.
If so be that my youthe may deserve,
And that my might be worthy for to serve
Thy godhead, that I may be one of thine,
Then pray I thee to rue upon my pinepity my anguish,
For thilkethat pain, and thilke hote fire,
In which thou whilom burned’st for desire
Whenne that thou usedestenjoyed the beauty
Of faire young Venus, fresh and free,
And haddest her in armes at thy will:
And though thee ones on a time misfillwere unlucky,
When Vulcanus had caught thee in his lasnet,b69
And found thee ligginglying by his wife, alas!
For thilke sorrow that was in thine heart,
Have ruthpity as well upon my paine’s smart.
I am young and unconningignorant, simple, as thou know’st,
And, as I trowbelieve, with love offended most
That e’er was any living creature:
For she, that dothcauses me all this woe endure,
Ne recketh ne’er whether I sink or fleetswim
And well I wot, ere she me mercy hetepromise, vouchsafe,
I must with strengthe win her in the place:
And well I wot, withoute help or grace
Of thee, ne may my strengthe not avail:
Then help me, lord, to-morr’w in my bataille,
For thilke fire that whilom burned thee,
As well as this fire that now burneth me;
And docause that I to-morr’w may have victory.
Mine be the travail, all thine be the glory.
Thy sovereign temple will I most honour
Of any place, and alway most labour
In thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong.
And in thy temple I will my banner honghang,
And all the armes of my company,
And evermore, until that day I die,
Eternal fire I will before thee find
And eke to this my vow I will me bind:
My beard, my hair that hangeth long adown,
That never yet hath felt offensionindignity
Of razor nor of shears, I will thee give,
And be thy true servant while I live.
Now, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore,
Give me the victory, I ask no more.”

The prayer stintended of Arcita the strong,
The ringes on the temple door that hong,
And eke the doores, clattered full fast,
Of which Arcita somewhat was aghast.
The fires burn’d upon the altar bright,
That it gan all the temple for to light;
A sweete smell anon the ground up gafgave,
And Arcita anon his hand up haflifted,
And more incense into the fire he cast,
With other rites more and at the last
The statue of Mars began his hauberk ring;
And with that sound he heard a murmuring
Full low and dim, that saide thus, “Victory.”
For which he gave to Mars honour and glory.
And thus with joy, and hope well to fare,
Arcite anon unto his inn doth fare.
As fainglad as fowl is of the brighte sun.

And right anon such strife there is begun
For thilkethat granting, in the heav’n above,
Betwixte Venus the goddess of love,
And Mars the sterne god armipotent,
That Jupiter was busy it to stentstop:
Till that the pale Saturnus the cold,b70
That knew so many of adventures old,
Found in his old experience such an art,
That he full soon hath pleased every part.
As sooth is said, eldage hath great advantage,
In eld is bothe wisdom and usageexperience:
Men may the old out-run, but not out-redeoutwit.
Saturn anon, to stint the strife and drede,
Albeit that it is against his kind,nature
Of all this strife gan a remedy find.
“My deare daughter Venus,” quoth Saturn,
“My courseorbit, that hath so wide for to turn,b71
Hath more power than wot any man.
Mine is the drowning in the sea so wan;
Mine is the prison in the darke cotecell,
Mine the strangling and hanging by the throat,
The murmur, and the churlish rebelling,
The groyningdiscontent, and the privy poisoning.
I do vengeance and pleinfull correction,
I dwell in the sign of the lion.
Mine is the ruin of the highe halls,
The falling of the towers and the walls
Upon the miner or the carpenter:
I slew Samson in shaking the pillar:
Mine also be the maladies cold,
The darke treasons, and the castesplots old:
My looking is the father of pestilence.
Now weep no more, I shall do diligence
That Palamon, that is thine owen knight,
Shall have his lady, as thou hast him hightpromised.
Though Mars shall help his knight, yet natheless
Betwixte you there must sometime be peace:
All be ye not of one complexion,
That each day causeth such division,
I am thine ayelgrandfather, ready at thy will;b72
Weep now no more, I shall thy lustpleasure fulfil.”
Now will I stentencease speaking of the gods above,
Of Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love,
And telle you as plainly as I can
The great effect, for which that I began.

Great was the feast in Athens thilkethat day;
And eke the lusty season of that May
Made every wight to be in such pleasance,
That all that Monday jousten they and dance,
And spenden it in Venus’ high service.
But by the cause that they shoulde rise
Early a-morrow for to see that fight,
Unto their reste wente they at night.
And on the morrow, when the day gan spring,
Of horse and harnessarmour noise and clattering
There was in the hostelries all about:
And to the palace rode there many a routtrain, retinue
Of lordes, upon steedes and palfreys.
There mayst thou see devisingdecoration of harness
So uncouthunkown, rare and so rich, and wrought so weel
Of goldsmithry, of broudingembroidery, and of steel;
The shieldes bright, the testershelmets, and trappurestrappingsb73]
Gold-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures;
Lordes in parements; on their coursers,
Knightes of retinue, and eke squiers,
Nailing the spears, and helmes buckeling,
Gnidingpolishing of shieldes, with lainerslanyards lacing;b75
There as need is, they were nothing idle:
The foamy steeds upon the golden bridle
Gnawing, and fast the armourers also
With file and hammer pricking to and fro;
Yeomen on foot, and knavesservants many one
With shorte staves, thickclose as they may gonwalk;
Pipes, trumpets, nakeresdrums, and clariouns,b76
That in the battle blowe bloody souns;
The palace full of people up and down,
There three, there ten, holding their questiounconversation,
Diviningconjecturing of these Theban knightes two.
Some saiden thus, some said it shall he so;
Some helden with him with the blacke beard,
Some with the bald, some with the thick-hair’d;
Some said he looked grim, and woulde fight:
He had a sparthdouble-headed axe of twenty pound of weight.
Thus was the halle full of diviningconjecturing
Long after that the sunne gan up spring.
The great Theseus that of his sleep is waked
With minstrelsy, and noise that was maked,
Held yet the chamber of his palace rich,
Till that the Theban knightes both y-lichalike
Honoured were, and to the palace fetfetched.
Duke Theseus is at a window set,
Array’d right as he were a god in throne:
The people presseth thitherward full soon
Him for to see, and do him reverence,
And eke to hearken his hestcommand and his sentencespeech.
An herald on a scaffold made an O, b77
Till the noise of the people was y-dodone:
And when he saw the people of noise all still,
Thus shewed he the mighty Duke’s will.
“The lord hath of his high discretion
Considered that it were destruction
To gentle blood, to fighten in the guise
Of mortal battle now in this emprise:
Wherefore to shapearrange, contrive that they shall not die,
He will his firste purpose modify.
No man therefore, on pain of loss of life,
No mannerkind of shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knife
Into the lists shall send, or thither bring.
Nor short sword for to stick with point biting
No man shall draw, nor bear it by his side.
And no man shall unto his fellow ride
But one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear:
Foin if him list on foot, himself to wear.He who wishes can fence on foot to defend himself, and he that is in peril shall be taken
And he that is at mischief shall be take,
And not slain, but be brought unto the stake,
That shall be ordained on either side;
Thither he shall by force, and there abide.
And if so fallshould happen the chiefetain be take
On either side, or elles slay his makeequal, match,
No longer then the tourneying shall last.
God speede you; go forth and lay on fast.
With long sword and with mace fight your fill.
Go now your way; this is the lordes will.
The voice of the people touched the heaven,
So loude cried they with merry stevensound:
God save such a lord that is so good,
He willeth no destruction of blood.

Up go the trumpets and the melody,
And to the listes rode the company
By ordinancein orderly array, throughout the city large,
Hanged with cloth of gold, and not with sargeserge.b78
Full like a lord this noble Duke gan ride,
And these two Thebans upon either side:

And after rode the queen and Emily,
And after them another company
Of one and other, after their degree.
And thus they passed thorough that city
And to the listes came they by time:
It was not of the day yet fully primebetween 6 & 9 a.m..
When set was Theseus full rich and high,
Hippolyta the queen and Emily,
And other ladies in their degrees about,
Unto the seates presseth all the rout.
And westward, through the gates under Mart,
Arcite, and eke the hundred of his part,
With banner red, is enter’d right anon;
And in the selveself-same moment Palamon
Is, under Venus, eastward in the place,
With banner white, and hardy cheerexpression and face
In all the world, to seeken up and down
So evenequal without variatioun
There were such companies never tway.
For there was none so wise that coulde say
That any had of other avantage
Of worthiness, nor of estate, nor age,
So even were they chosen for to guess.
And in two ranges faire they them dressthey arranged themselves in two rows.
When that their names read were every one,
That in their number guilefraud were there none,
Then were the gates shut, and cried was loud;
“Do now your devoir, younge knights proud
The heralds left their prickingspurring their horses up and down
Now ring the trumpet loud and clarioun.
There is no more to say, but east and west
In go the speares sadlysteadily in the rest;
In go the sharpe spurs into the side.
There see me who can joust, and who can ride.
There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick;
He feeleth through the hearte-spoonb79 the prick.
Up spring the speares twenty foot on height;
Out go the swordes as the silver bright.
The helmes they to-hewen, and to-shredstrike in pieces;b80
Out burst the blood, with sterne streames red.
With mighty maces the bones they to-brestburst.
He b81 through the thickest of the throng gan threstthrust.
There stumble steedes strong, and down go all.
He rolleth under foot as doth a ball.
He foinethforces himself on his foe with a trunchoun,
And he him hurtleth with his horse adown.
He through the body hurt is, and sith takeafterwards captured,
Maugre his head, and brought unto the stake,
As forwordcovenant was, right there he must abide.
Another led is on that other side.
And sometime dothcaused them Theseus to rest,
Them to refresh, and drinken if them lestpleased.
Full oft a day have thilkethese Thebans two
Together met and wrought each other woe:
Unhorsed hath each other of them twaytwice
There is no tiger in the vale of Galaphay, b82
When that her whelp is stole, when it is litelittle
So cruel on the hunter, as Arcite
For jealous heart upon this Palamon:
Nor in Belmarie b83 there is no fell lion,
That hunted is, or for his hunger woodmad
Or for his prey desireth so the blood,
As Palamon to slay his foe Arcite.
The jealous strokes upon their helmets bite;
Out runneth blood on both their sides red,
Sometime an end there is of every deed
For ere the sun unto the reste went,
The stronge king Emetrius gan hentsieze, assail
This Palamon, as he fought with Arcite,
And made his sword deep in his flesh to bite,
And by the force of twenty is he take,
Unyielding, and is drawn unto the stake.
And in the rescue of this Palamon
The stronge king Licurgus is borne down:
And king Emetrius, for all his strength
Is borne out of his saddle a sword’s length,
So hit him Palamon ere he were take:
But all for nought; he was brought to the stake:
His hardy hearte might him helpe naught,
He must abide when that he was caught,
By force, and eke by compositionthe bargain.
Who sorroweth now but woful Palamon
That must no more go again to fight?
And when that Theseus had seen that sight
Unto the folk that foughte thus each one,
He cried, Ho! no more, for it is done!
I will be true judge, and not party.
Arcite of Thebes shall have Emily,
That by his fortune hath her fairly won.”
Anon there is a noise of people gone,
For joy of this, so loud and high withal,
It seemed that the listes shoulde fall.

What can now faire Venus do above?
What saith she now? what doth this queen of love?
But weepeth so, for wanting of her will,
Till that her teares in the listes fillfall
She said: “I am ashamed doubteless.”
Saturnus saide: “Daughter, hold thy peace.
Mars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon,
And by mine head thou shalt be eased soon.”
The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy,
The heralds, that full loude yell and cry,
Be in their joy for weal of DanLord Arcite.
But hearken me, and stinte noise a lite,
What a miracle there befell anon
This fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done,
And on a courser for to shew his face
He pricketh endelongrides from end to end the large place,
Looking upward upon this Emily;
And she again him cast a friendly eye
(For women, as to speaken in communegenerally,
They follow all the favour of fortune),
And was all his in cheercountenance, as his in heart.
Out of the ground a fire infernal start,
From Pluto sent, at request of Saturn
For which his horse for fear began to turn,
And leap aside, and founderstumble as he leap
And ere that Arcite may take any keepcare,
He pightpitched him on the pummeltop of his head.
That in the place he lay as he were dead.
His breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow.
As black he lay as any coal or crow,
So was the blood y-run into his face.
Anon he was y-borne out of the place
With hearte sore, to Theseus’ palace.
Then was he carvencut out of his harness.
And in a bed y-brought full fair and blivequickly
For he was yet in mem’ry and alive,
And always crying after Emily.

Duke Theseus, with all his company,
Is come home to Athens his city,
With alle bliss and great solemnity.
Albeit that this aventure was fallbefallen,
He woulde not discomfortediscourage them all
Then said eke, that Arcite should not die,
He should be healed of his malady.
And of another thing they were as fainglad.
That of them alle was there no one slain,
Allalthough were they sorely hurt, and namelyespecially one,
That with a spear was thirledpierced his breast-bone.
To other woundes, and to broken arms,
Some hadden salves, and some hadden charms:
And pharmacies of herbs, and eke savesage, Salvia officinalis
They dranken, for they would their lives have.
For which this noble Duke, as he well can,
Comforteth and honoureth every man,
And made revel all the longe night,
Unto the strange lordes, as was right.
Nor there was holden no discomforting,
But as at jousts or at a tourneying;
For soothly there was no discomfiture,
For falling is not but an aventurechance, accident.
Nor to be led by force unto a stake
Unyielding, and with twenty knights y-take
One person all alone, withouten mo’,
And harrieddragged, hurried forth by armes, foot, and toe,
And eke his steede driven forth with staves,
With footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knavesservants,
It was aretted him no villainy:counted no disgrace to him
There may no man clepen it cowardycall it cowardice.
For which anon Duke Theseus let crycaused to be proclaimed, –
To stentenstop alle rancour and envy, –
The greeprize, merit as well on one side as the other,
And either side alike as other’s brother:
And gave them giftes after their degree,
And held a feaste fully dayes three:
And conveyed the kinges worthily
Out of his town a journeeday’s journey largely
And home went every man the righte way,
There was no more but “Farewell, Have good day.”
Of this bataille I will no more indite
But speak of Palamon and of Arcite.

Swelleth the breast of Arcite and the sore
Increaseth at his hearte more and more.
The clotted blood, for any leache-craftsurgical skill
Corrupteth and is in his bouk y-laftleft in his body
That neither veine blood nor ventousingblood-letting or cupping,
Nor drink of herbes may be his helping.
The virtue expulsive or animal,
From thilke virtue called natural,
Nor may the venom voide, nor expel
The pipes of his lungs began to swell
And every lacertsinew, muscle in his breast adown
Is shentdestroyed with venom and corruption.
Him gainethavaileth neither, for to get his life,
Vomit upward, nor downward laxative;
All is to-bursten thilke region;
Nature hath now no domination.
And certainly where nature will not wirch,work
Farewell physic: go bear the man to chirch.church
This all and some is, Arcite must die.
For which he sendeth after Emily,
And Palamon, that was his cousin dear,
Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear.

“Nought may the woful spirit in mine heart
Declare one point of all my sorrows’ smart
To you, my lady, that I love the most:
But I bequeath the service of my ghost
To you aboven every creature,
Since that my life ne may no longer dure.
Alas the woe! alas, the paines strong
That I for you have suffered and so long!
Alas the death, alas, mine Emily!
Alas departingthe severance of our company!
Alas, mine hearte’s queen! alas, my wife!
Mine hearte’s lady, ender of my life!
What is this world? what aske men to have?
Now with his love, now in his colde grave
Al one, withouten any company.
Farewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily,
And softly take me in your armes tway,
For love of God, and hearken what I say.
I have here with my cousin Palamon
Had strife and rancour many a day agone,
For love of you, and for my jealousy.
And Jupiter so wis my soule giesurely guides my soul,
To speaken of a servant properly,
With alle circumstances truely,
That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,
Wisdom, humblesshumility, estate, and high kindred,
Freedom, and all that longeth to that art,
So Jupiter have of my soul part,
As in this world right now I know not one,
So worthy to be lov’d as Palamon,
That serveth you, and will do all his life.
And if that you shall ever be a wife,
Forget not Palamon, the gentle man.”

And with that word his speech to fail began.
For from his feet up to his breast was come
The cold of death, that had him overnomeovercome.
And yet moreover in his armes two
The vital strength is lost, and all agogone.
Only the intellect, withoute more,
That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,
Gan faile, when the hearte felte death;
Duskedgrew dim his eyen two, and fail’d his breath.
But on his lady yet he cast his eye;
His laste word was; “Mercy, Emily!”
His spirit changed house, and wente there,
As I came never I cannot telle where.b84
Therefore I stentrefrain, I am no divinisterdiviner;
Of soules find I nought in this register.
Ne me list not th’ opinions to tell
Of them, though that they writen where they dwell;
Arcite is cold, there Mars his soule gie.guide
Now will I speake forth of Emily.

Shriek’d Emily, and howled Palamon,
And Theseus his sister took anon
Swooning, and bare her from the corpse away.
What helpeth it to tarry forth the day,
To telle how she wept both eve and morrow?
For in such cases women have such sorrow,
When that their husbands be from them y-gogone,
That for the more part they sorrow so,
Or elles fall into such malady,
That at the laste certainly they die.
Infinite be the sorrows and the tears
Of olde folk, and folk of tender years,
In all the town, for death of this Theban:
For him there weepeth bothe child and man.
So great a weeping was there none certain,
When Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain,
To Troy: alas! the pity that was there,
Scratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair.
“Why wouldest thou be dead?” these women cry,
“And haddest gold enough, and Emily.”
No manner man might gladden Theseus,
Saving his olde father Egeus,
That knew this worlde’s transmutatioun,
As he had seen it changen up and down,
Joy after woe, and woe after gladness;
And shewed him example and likeness.
“Right as there died never man,” quoth he,
“That he ne liv’d in earth in some degreerank, condition,
Right so there lived never man,” he said,
“In all this world, that sometime be not died.
This world is but a throughfare full of woe,
And we be pilgrims, passing to and fro:
Death is an end of every worldly sore.”
And over all this said he yet much more
To this effect, full wisely to exhort
The people, that they should them recomfort.
Duke Theseus, with all his busy curecare,
Casteth aboutdeliberates, where that the sepulture
Of good Arcite may best y-maked be,
And eke most honourable in his degree.
And at the last he took conclusion,
That there as first Arcite and Palamon
Hadde for love the battle them between,
That in that selveself-same grove, sweet and green,
There as he had his amorous desires,
His complaint, and for love his hote fires,
He woulde make a firefuneral pyre, in which th’ office
Of funeral he might all accomplice;
And let anon commandimmediately gave orders to hack and hew
The oakes old, and lay them on a rewin a row
In culponslogs, well arrayed for to brenneburn.
His officers with swifte feet they rennerun
And ride anon at his commandement.
And after this, Duke Theseus hath sent
After a bier, and it all oversprad
With cloth of gold, the richest that he had;
And of the same suit he clad Arcite.
Upon his handes were his gloves white,
Eke on his head a crown of laurel green,
And in his hand a sword full bright and keen.
He laid him bare the visagewith face uncovered on the bier,
Therewith he wept, that pity was to hear.
And, for the people shoulde see him all,
When it was day he brought them to the hall,
That roareth of the crying and the soun’.
Then came this woful Theban, Palamon,
With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs,b85
In clothes black, y-dropped all with tears,
And (passing over weeping Emily)
The ruefullest of all the company.
And inasmuch asin order that the service should be
The more noble and rich in its degree,
Duke Theseus let forth three steedes bring,
That trapped were in steel all glittering.
And covered with the arms of Dan Arcite.
Upon these steedes, that were great and white,
There satte folk, of whom one bare his shield,
Another his spear in his handes held;
The thirde bare with him his bow TurkeisTurkish.,
Of brentburnished gold was the casequiver and the harness:
And ride forth a paceat a foot pace with sorrowful cheerexpression
Toward the grove, as ye shall after hear.

The noblest of the Greekes that there were
Upon their shoulders carried the bier,
With slacke pace, and eyen red and wet,
Throughout the city, by the mastermain street,b86
That spread was all with black, and wondrous high
Right of the same is all the street y-wrie.coveredb87
Upon the right hand went old Egeus,
And on the other side Duke Theseus,
With vessels in their hand of gold full fine,
All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;
Eke Palamon, with a great company;
And after that came woful Emily,
With fire in hand, as was that time the guisecustom,
To do th’ office of funeral service.

High labour, and full great apparelingpreparation
Was at the service, and the pyre-making,
That with its greene top the heaven raughtreached,
And twenty fathom broad its armes straughtstretched:
This is to say, the boughes were so broad.
Of straw first there was laid many a load.
But how the pyre was maked up on height,
And eke the names how the trees hightwere called,
As oak, fir, birch, aspaspen, alder, holm, poplere,
Willow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lindlinden, lime, laurere,
Maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree,
How they were fell’d, shall not be told for me;
Nor how the goddesthe forest deities rannen up and down
Disinherited of their habitatioun,
In which they wonneddwelt had in rest and peace,
Nymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades;
Nor how the beastes and the birdes all
Fledden for feare, when the wood gan fall;
Nor how the ground aghastterrified was of the light,
That was not wont to see the sunne bright;
Nor how the fire was couchedlaid first with strestraw,
And then with dry stickes cloven in three,
And then with greene wood and spiceryspices,
And then with cloth of gold and with pierrieprecious stones,
And garlands hanging with full many a flower,
The myrrh, the incense with so sweet odour;
Nor how Arcita lay among all this,
Nor what richess about his body is;
Nor how that Emily, as was the guisecustom,
Put in the fireappplied the torch of funeral serviceb88;
Nor how she swooned when she made the fire,
Nor what she spake, nor what was her desire;
Nor what jewels men in the fire then cast
When that the fire was great and burned fast;

Nor how some cast their shield, and some their spear,
And of their vestiments, which that they wear,
And cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood,
Into the fire, that burnt as it were woodmad;
Nor how the Greekes with a huge routprocession
Three times riden all the fire about b89
Upon the left hand, with a loud shouting,
And thries with their speares clattering;
And thries how the ladies gan to cry;
Nor how that led was homeward Emily;
Nor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold;
Nor how the lyke-wakewake was y-holdb90
All thilkethat night, nor how the Greekes play
The wake-playsfuneral games, ne keepcare I not to say:
Who wrestled best naked, with oil anoint,
Nor who that bare him best in no disjointin any contest.
I will not tell eke how they all are gone
Home to Athenes when the play is done;
But shortly to the point now will I wendcome,
And maken of my longe tale an end.

By process and by length of certain years
All stintedended is the mourning and the tears
Of Greekes, by one general assent.
Then seemed me there was a parlement
At Athens, upon certain points and cascases:
Amonge the which points y-spoken was
To have with certain countries alliance,
And have of Thebans full obeisance.
For which this noble Theseus anon
Letcaused send after the gentle Palamon,
Unwistunknown of him what was the cause and why:
But in his blacke clothes sorrowfully
He came at his commandment on hiein haste;
Then sente Theseus for Emily.
When they were setseated, and hush’d was all the place
And Theseus abidedwaited had a space
Ere any word came from his wise breast
His eyen set he there as was his lesthe cast his eyes wherever he pleased,
And with a sad visage he sighed still,
And after that right thus he said his will.
“The firste mover of the cause above
When he first made the faire chain of love,
Great was th’ effect, and high was his intent;
Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant:
For with that faire chain of love he bondbound
The fire, the air, the water, and the lond
In certain bondes, that they may not flee:b91
That same prince and mover eke,” quoth he,
“Hath stablish’d, in this wretched world adown,
Certain of dayes and duration
To all that are engender’d in this place,
Over the whiche day they may not pacepass,
All may they yet their dayes well abridge.
There needeth no authority to allege
For it is proved by experience;
But that me list declare my sentenceopinion.
Then may men by this order well discern,
That thilkethe same mover stable is and etern.
Well may men know, but that it be a fool,
That every part deriveth from its whole.
For nature hath not ta’en its beginning
Of no partie nor cantlepart or piece of a thing,
But of a thing that perfect is and stable,
Descending so, till it be corruptable.
And therefore of His wise purveyanceprovidence
He hath so well beset his ordinance,
That species of things and progressions
Shallen endure by successions,
And not etern, withouten any lie:
This mayst thou understand and see at eye.
Lo th’ oak, that hath so long a nourishing
From the time that it ‘ginneth first to spring,
And hath so long a life, as ye may see,
Yet at the last y-wasted is the tree.
Consider eke, how that the harde stone
Under our feet, on which we tread and gonwalk,
Yet wasteth, as it lieth by the way.
The broade river some time waxeth dreydry.
The greate townes see we wane and wendgo, disappear.
Then may ye see that all things have an end.
Of man and woman see we well also, –
That needes in one of the termes two, –
That is to say, in youth or else in age,-
He must be dead, the king as shall a page;
Some in his bed, some in the deepe sea,
Some in the large field, as ye may see:
There helpeth nought, all go that ilkesame way:
Then may I say that alle thing must die.
What maketh this but Jupiter the king?
The which is prince, and cause of alle thing,
Converting all unto his proper will,
From which it is derived, sooth to tell
And hereagainst no creature alive,
Of no degree, availeth for to strive.
Then is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,
To make a virtue of necessity,
And take it well, that we may not eschewescape,
And namely what to us all is due.
And whoso grudgethmurmurs at ought, he doth folly,
And rebel is to him that all may giedirect, guide.
And certainly a man hath most honour
To dien in his excellence and flower,
When he is sickercertain of his goode name.
Then hath he done his friend, nor himhimself, no shame
And gladder ought his friend be of his death,
When with honour is yielded up his breath,
Than when his name appalled is for agedecayed by old age;
For all forgotten is his vassalagevalour, service.
Then is it best, as for a worthy fame,
To dien when a man is best of name.
The contrary of all this is wilfulness.
Why grudge we, why have we heaviness,
That good Arcite, of chivalry the flower,
Departed is, with duty and honour,
Out of this foule prison of this life?
Why grudge here his cousin and his wife
Of his welfare, that loved him so well?
Can he them thank? nay, God wot, neverdealnot a jot, –
That both his soul and eke themselves offendhurt,
And yet they may their lustesdesires not amendcontrol.
What may I conclude of this longe seriestring of remarks,
But after sorrow I redecounsel us to be merry,
And thanke Jupiter for all his grace?
And ere that we departe from this place,
I rede that we make of sorrows two
One perfect joye lasting evermo’:
And look now where most sorrow is herein,
There will I first amenden and begin.
“Sister,” quoth he, “this is my full assent,
With all th’ advice here of my parlement,
That gentle Palamon, your owen knight,
That serveth you with will, and heart, and might,
And ever hath, since first time ye him knew,
That ye shall of your grace upon him ruetake pity,
And take him for your husband and your lord:
Lend me your hand, for this is our accord.
Let seemake display now of your womanly pity.
He is a kinge’s brother’s son, pardieby God.
And though he were a poore bachelere,
Since he hath served you so many a year,
And had for you so great adversity,
It muste be considered, ‘lieveth mebelieve me.
For gentle mercy oweth to passen rightought to be rightly directed.”
Then said he thus to Palamon the knight;
“I trow there needeth little sermoning
To make you assente to this thing.
Come near, and take your lady by the hand.”
Betwixte them was made anon the band,
That hight matrimony or marriage,
By all the counsel of the baronage.
And thus with alle bliss and melody
Hath Palamon y-wedded Emily.
And God, that all this wide world hath wrought,
Send him his love, that hath it dearly bought.
For now is Palamon in all his weal,
Living in bliss, in riches, and in healhealth.
And Emily him loves so tenderly,
And he her serveth all so gentilly,
That never was there worde them between
Of jealousy, nor of none other teencause of anger.
Thus endeth Palamon and Emily
And God save all this faire company.