# The Canterbury Tales of Geoffrey Chaucer/Knight’s Tale

The Knight's Tale
Jamque domos patrias, Scithice post aspera gentis Prelia, laurigero, &c. .
WHILOM, as old stories tell us, there was a duke name Theseus, governor and lord of Athens, and in his time such a conqueror that beneath the sun there was no one greater. Full many a rich country had he won; with his wisdom and his knighthood he conquered all the realm of Femeny, that before was called Scythia ; he wedded Ipolita the queen, and brought her home with him in much glory and great splendour, and eke her young sister Emily. Thus with victory and with melody leave I this noble duke riding to Athens, with all his host in arms behind him.
And certes, if it were not too long to hear, I would tell you fully the manner how the realm of Femeny was won by Theseus and his knights; and of the great battle betwixt the Athenians and the Amazons, and how this fair valiant Queen Ipolita was besieged; and of the festival at her marriage and the tempest at her home-coming. But all this I must now forbear to tell. God wot, I have a large field to furrow, and weak are the oxen in my plough. The remnant of the tale is long enough. And besides I would not hinder any of this company; let every comrade tell his story in turn and we shall see now who is to win the supper. So I will begin again where I left.
​ When this duke that I speak of was come almost to the town in all his pomp and happiness, as he cast his eye on one side he was ware how there was kneeling in the highway a company of ladies, two and two in order, clad in black, making such a cry and such a woe that no creature living in this world heard such another lamentation; and they never stopped their cries till they had caught the reins of his bridle. "What folk be ye that at my home-coming disturb my festival so with cries?" quoth Theseus. "Have ye so great ill-will toward my glory, that ye lament thus and wail? Or who hath insulted or injured you? Tell me if it may be amended, and why ye be thus clothed in black."
The eldest lady of them all spake, after she had swooned with face so deathlike that it was piteous to see and hear: "Lord, to whom Fortune hath granted victory, and to live as a conqueror, your glory and honour grieve us not, but we beg for mercy and succour. Show thy grace upon our distress and woe—of thy nobleness let fall some drop of pity upon us unhappy women. For truly, lord, there is not one of us all but hath been a duchess or a queen; now are we poor wretches, as thou seest, thanks to Fortune and her false wheel that unto no rank assureth wellbeing. And verily, lord, here in the temple of the Goddess Clemence we have been waiting this whole fortnight against your coming. Now help us, lord, sith it lieth in thy power. I, wretched woman, who thus weep and wail was whilom wife to King Capaneus, who died at Thebes, cursed be that day! And all we who be in this plight and make all this lament lost our husbands at that town while the siege lay about it. Yet now, alack! the old Creon who is lord of Thebes, full of vice and iniquity, hath done scorn to the dead bodies of all our lords, and ​of his tyranny and malice hath had them drawn on a heap, and by no means will suffer them to be either buried or burned, but in despite maketh hounds to eat them."
And with that word at once they fell all on their faces, piteously crying, "Have some mercy on us wretched women, and let our sorrow sink into thy heart."
This gentle duke leapt from his courser with compassionate mood ; it seemed to him his heart would break when he saw them so cast down who were wont to be of such high estate. He caught them all up in his arms, earnestly comforted them, and swore his oath, as he was true knight, that he would go so far as his power might reach to avenge them upon the tyrant Creon, who had well deserved death; so that all the people of Greece should tell how Creon was served by Theseus. And anon he displayed his banner, without more tarrying, and rode forth toward Thebes and all his host behind him; no nearer Athens would he ride, nor take his ease even half a day, but slept that night on the road forth, and anon sent Ipolita the queen and her fair young sister Emily to abide in the town of Athens, and forth he rode ; I have no more to tell.
The red figure of Mars, with spear and targe, so shineth in his broad white banner that the light glanceth up and down the field, and beside his banner is borne his pennon of full rich gold, in which was beaten out the Minotaur which he slew in Crete. Thus rideth this duke, thus rideth this conqueror, and the flower of chivalry in his host, till he came to Thebes and dismounted fairly in a field where he thought it best to fight. But to speak shortly of this matter, he fought with Creon the king, and slew him in manly fashion in open battle, and put his folk to flight; then he won the city by assault, and rent down both ​wall, beam, and rafter; and restored to the ladies the bones of their slain husbands that they might do their obsequies as was then wonted. But it were all too long to describe the great clamour and wailing that the ladies made when the bodies were burned, or the great honour which Theseus did them when they parted from him; to tell shortly is mine intent. When thus the worthy duke had slain Creon and won the city of Thebes, he took his rest for the night in that field and then dealt with all the country as he would.
After the battle, the pillagers were busy searching in the heaps of corpses and stripping them of their harness and garments, and so befell that they found in the pile, gashed through with many a grievous bloody wound, two young knights lying hard by each other, both in one coat-of-arms full richly wrought, not fully alive nor quite dead. By their coat-armour and their equipment, the heralds knew them well among the rest as of the blood royal of Thebes and born of two sisters. Out of the heap the pillagers drew them, and gently carried them to the tent of Theseus, who full soon sent them to Athens, to dwell in prison perpetually; he would have no ransom. And when this worthy duke had done thus, he took his host and anon rode homeward, crowned with laurel as a victor. And there he liveth in honour and joy all his life; what needeth more words? And in a tower in anguish and woe dwell this Palamon and eke Arcite forevermore, no gold may free them.
Thus passed day by day and year after year till it befell once on a May-morrow that Emily, that was fairer to look upon than the lily is upon its green stalk, and fresher than the May with its new flowers—for her bloom was like the rose, I know not which was the fairer of the two—ere it were day, as was her wont, ​she was arisen and ready clad. For May will have no sluggardry at night, but pricketh every gentle heart and raiseth out of sleep and saith "Arise, and do thine observance to the season." Thus Emily had remembrance to rise and do honour to May. She was clothed all brightly, and her yellow hair was braided behind in a tress a full yard long. In the garden at the sun-rising she walketh up and down, and where she will she gathereth flowers white and scarlet to make a delicate garland for her head, and singeth like an angel in heaven. Close to the garden-wall by which Emily took her pastime rose the great tower, thick and strong, and chief donjon of the castle, where the knights were in prison of whom I told you and shall tell more. Bright was the sun and clear the morning; and Palamon the woeful prisoner was gone up as he was wont, by leave of his gaoler, and roamed in a chamber on high, whence he saw all the noble city and the garden eke, full of green branches, where Emily the fresh and fair was wandering. This sorrowful prisoner went roaming to and fro in the chamber lamenting to himself. "Alas," he said full oft, "alas that he was born!" And so befell by adventure or chance that through a window, thick with many a bar of iron great and square, he cast his eye upon Emily; and therewith, as though he were stung to the heart, he started and cried, "Ah!" At that cry anon Arcite started up, saying, "Cousin mine, what aileth thee, that thou art so pale and deathlike to look upon? What is this cry? What troubleth thee? For God's love, take our imprisonment in patience, for it may be no otherwise. This adversity is given us by Fortune; some evil disposition or aspect of Saturn toward some constellation hath given us this, though we had sworn to the contrary. So stood the heaven when we were born. We must endure it, that is all."
​ Palamon answered, "Cousin, in sooth thine imagining here is vain. This prison caused not my clamour, but I was hurt right now through mine eye into my heart, and it will be my bane. The fairness of that lady that I see yonder in the garden roaming to and fro is cause of all my woe and crying. I wot not whether she be woman or goddess. Soothly Venus it is, I think." And therewith down he fell on his knees, and said, "Venus, if it be your will thus to transfigure you in this garden before me, sorrowful wretched creature, help that we may scape out of this prison. And if so be my destiny be shapen by eternal word to die in prison, have some pity of our lineage that by tyranny is brought so low."
And with that word Arcite gan espy where this lady was wandering, and with the sight her beauty hurt him so that if Palamon was grievously wounded, Arcite was hurt as much as he or more; and with a sigh he said piteously: "The fresh beauty slayeth me suddenly of her that roameth in yonder place; and, if I get not her mercy and favour, that I may see her at the least, I am dead, I can say no more."
Palamon, when he heard those words, stared fiercely and answered, "Sayest thou this in earnest or sport?" "Nay, by my faith," quoth Arcite, "in earnest; so God help me, I list full ill to sport."
Palamon gan knit his two brows. "It were to thee no great honour," quoth he, "to be false and traitor to me that am thy cousin and brother, sworn full deep, as thou to me, that never, though we die under torture, either of us should hinder the other in love, or in any other case, dear brother, till death shall part us two; but thou shouldst truly further me in every case, and I shall further thee—this was thine oath and mine also, in faith. ​I wot right well thou darest not gainsay it. Thus art thou of a truth in my counsel. Yet now thou wouldst falsely go about to love my lady, whom I love and serve, and ever shall till my heart perish. Now by my faith, false Arcite, thou shalt not so. I loved her first and told thee my grief as to my brother sworn to further me, for which thou art bound as a knight to help me if it lie in thy power; or else thou art false, I dare avow."
Full proudly Arcite spake again: "Thou shalt prove false rather than I. But thou art false, I tell thee openly, for par amour I loved her ere thou. What wilt thou say? Thou knowest not yet whether she be woman or goddess! Thine is holy affection and mine is love, as toward a creature; wherefore I told thee my hap as to my cousin and sworn brother. I put the case that thou lovedst her first : knowest thou not the old clerk's saw— 'Who shall lay a law upon a lover?' Love is a greater law, by my head, than may be laid upon any man on earth, and therefore human law and decrees are broken every day over all this world for love. A man must needs love, maugre his head; he may not flee love though it should slay him, be she maid or widow or wife. And eke it is not likely that ever in all thy days thou shalt stand in her grace, and no more shall I. For well thou knowest that thou and I be doomed to prison perpetually, no ransom availeth us. We strive like the hounds for the bone; they fought all day, yet they gained naught, for there came a kite above them in their fury and bore away the bone betwixt them both. And therefore at the king's court each man for himself, there is no other rule. Love if thou wilt, for I love and ever shall, and in sooth, dear brother, this is all: here in this prison must we endure, and each of us take his lot."
Great and long was the strife betwixt the two, if I had ​leisure to tell it; but to the point. It happened on a time (to tell you as shortly as I may) a worthy duke that was called Perotheus, and was fellow to Duke Theseus since they were little children, was come to Athens to visit him and take his pleasure, as he was wont. For in this world he so loved no man, and Theseus loved him as tenderly; so well they loved, as old books say, that when one was dead his fellow went and sought him down in hell (but of that story I care not to speak). Duke Perotheus had known Arcite at Thebes many a year and loved him well, and finally at the prayer of Perotheus, without any ransom, Duke Theseus let him out of prison freely to go where he would, on such terms as I shall tell you. If so be that Arcite were ever found by day or night in any realm of Theseus it was accorded that by the sword he should lose his head; there was no remedy. He taketh his leave and homeward he sped him. Let him beware ; his neck lieth in pledge.
How great a sorrow he suffereth now! He feeleth the death smite through his heart, he weepeth, waileth, piteously crieth, he looketh privily to slay himself. "Alas the day that I was born!" he said. "Now is my prison worse than before, now am I doomed eternally to abide not in purgatory, but in hell. Alas, that ever I knew Perotheus, for else I had dwelt with Theseus fettered in his prison evermore! Then had I been in bliss and not in this woe; only the sight of her whom I serve, though I might never win her grace, would have well sufficed for me. O dear cousin Palamon," he cried, "thine is the victory in this adventure, full blissfully mayst thou endure in prison. In prison? Nay, but in Paradise. Well hath Fortune turned the die for thee, who hast the sight of her, and I only the longing. For it may well be, since thou hast her presence and art a knight ​worthy and able, that by some chance of changeful fortune thou mayst attain sometime to thy desire. But I that am exiled and barren of all grace and so out of hope that there is no earth, water, air, nor fire, nor creature made thereof, that may do me help or comfort,—well may I perish in misery and despair. Farewell my gladness and my life!
"Alas, why complain folk so commonly of the providence of God or of fortune, that full oft disposeth them in many a guise better than they can contrive for themselves? One man desireth to have riches, that become cause of his murder or great malady; another would fain be out of his prison, and is slain by his household. Infinite harms follow hence, we know not what we pray for. We fare as he that is drunk as a mouse; a drunken man wot well he hath an home, but wot not which is the right way thither, and to a drunken man the way is slippery. And certes in this world so we fare; much we seek after felicity, but full often we go wrong. Thus may we well say and I above all, who weened that, if I might escape, I should be in joy and perfect weal; yet now am I exiled from my happiness. Sith I may not see you, Emily, I die, there is no help."
On the other side, Palamon, when he wist that Arcite was gone, made such sorrow that the great tower resounded with his clamour. The very fetters on his great shins were wet with salt and bitter tears. "Alack!" quoth he, "Arcite, my cousin, of all our strife, God wot thine is the fruit. Thou walkest now in Thebes at large and heedest my woe but little. With thy prudence and manhood thou mayst assemble all the folk of our kindred, and make so sharp a war on this city that by some chance or treaty thou mayst have her to lady and wife for whom I must needs die. Great may be thy hopes over me that ​perish here in a cage, with all the woes of prison and eke with the pain of love, that doubleth all my torment." Therewith the fire of jealousy flared up and kindled upon his heart so madly that he turned pale as the box-tree or the ashes dead and cold. "O cruel gods," he cried, "that govern this world with the binding of your everlasting decree, and write on tables of adamant your eternal word, why is mankind more bound in duty to you than the sheep that cowereth in the fold? For man is slain like another beast, and dwelleth in prison and hath sickness and adversity, and ofttimes guiltless. What justice is in the Providence that thus tormenteth the innocent? And yet this increaseth my suffering, that man is bound for God's sake to give up his will, where a beast may perform all his desire. And when a beast is dead his trouble is past, but man after his death must weep, though in this world he have care and woe. Well I wot that in this world is misery; let divines explain it if they may. Alas! I see a serpent, or thief, go at large and turn where he list, that hath done mischief to many a true man. But Saturn holdeth me in prison, and eke Juno jealous and furious, that hath destroyed well nigh all the blood of Thebes, and laid its broad walls all waste; and from the other side Venus slayeth me with jealousy and fear of Arcite."
The summer passeth, and the long nights increase in double wise the pains both of the free lover and the prisoner. I wot not which hath the woefuller calling. I ask you lovers now, who hath the worse, Arcite or Palamon? The one may see his lady day after day, but perpetually is doomed to prison, to die in chains and fetters; the other may go where he will, but from that country he is exiled upon pain of death, and his lady he may see no more. Judge as ye will, ye that can, for now I will ​stint of Palamon a little and let him dwell silently in his prison, and I will tell forth of Arcite.
Explicit prima pars.
Sequitur pars secunda.
When Arcite was come to Thebes, full oft a day he swooned ; and, shortly to conclude, so much sorrow had never creature that is or shall be while the world may last. His sleep, his meat, his drink is bereft him, that he waxed lean and dry as a stalk; his eyes hollow and grisly to see, his hue yellow and pale as cold ashes, and ever he was solitary and moaning all the night, and if he heard song or instrument of music, then would he weep and might not refrain; so feeble were his spirits and low and so changed that no man knew his speech or voice. And in his acts he fared not only like the lover's malady of Eros, but for all the world like madness engendered of melancholy humour in the cell of fantasy in his brain. And, shortly, all was turned upside-down, both habit and disposition of this woeful lover Dan Arcite.
Why should I endite of his woe all day? When a year or two he had endured this cruel torment, upon a night as he lay in sleep, him seemed how the winged god Mercury stood before him and bade him be merry. His staff of sleep he bore upright in his hand, and wore a hat upon his bright hair, and seemed as when he charmed Argus asleep; and said to him thus: "Thou shalt fare to Athens,—there an end of thy woe is decreed." At that Arcite started up. "Now truly, whatever betide," quoth he, "I will to Athens, nor will I spare for the dread of death to look upon my lady whom I love and serve ; in her presence I care not ​if I die." And with that word he caught up a great mirror and saw his visage all disfigured with his malady, and anon it ran into his mind that, if he bore him low evermore, he might live in Athens unknown, and see his lady nigh day by day. Then he changed his garb and clad him as a poor labourer, and all alone, save for a squire who knew his privity and was disguised poorly as he was, to Athens he went the next day. At the palace-gate he proffered his service to drudge and draw, whatso men would command him. And shortly to speak of this matter, he fell into office with a chamberlain that dwelt with Emily, and was wise and could soon espy who should serve her best. Well could Arcite hew wood and bear water, for he was young and mighty and big of bones, to do what any wight could appoint him. A year or two he was in this service, a page in the chamber of Emily the bright, and Philostrate he said was his name. But half so well beloved a man of his degree was never in court. He was so noble of disposition that throughout the court went his repute; they said it were a kind deed if Theseus would raise his station and put him in worshipful service, where he might employ his virtue. And thus within a while the name is sprung so wide of his fair speech and deeds that Theseus hath taken him near and made him squire of his chamber and given him gold to maintain his degree ; and eke from year to year full privily men brought him his revenue out of his country, but seemly and slily he spent it, that no man wondered whence it came. Three years in this wise he led his life, and bare him so in peace and war that Theseus held no man dearer. And in this bliss I leave Arcite now, and I will speak a little of Palamon.
In darkness and in prison horrible and strong he hath lain this seven year, pining in woe and affliction. Who feeleth double ​sorrow and heaviness but Palamon? Love distraineth him so that he goeth mad out of his wit, and thereto he is a prisoner perpetually, not only for a year. Who could properly rhyme in English his martyrdom? In sooth, not I; therefore I pass on as lightly as I can.
It fell in the seventh year, in May, the third night (as it is said in old books that tell all this story more at large), were it by fortune or destiny (by which when a thing is decreed it must be), that soon after the midnight, with the helping of a friend, Palamon broke his prison, and fast as he might go, fled the city. For he had given his gaoler drink, made of a certain wine with sleepy drugs and fine opium of Thebes, that all the night the gaoler slept, and might not awake though men should shake him. And thus as fast as ever he may he fleeth. The night is short and the day at hand, that needs he must hide, and to a grove hard by he glideth with fearful foot ; for this was his device, to hide in the grove all day and by night take his journey toward Thebes, to pray his friends to help him war on Theseus; and, shortly, either he would die or win Emily to wife,—this is the effect and his full intent.
Now will I turn unto Arcite, that little wist how nigh was his dismay till fortune had brought him in the snare.
The busy lark, messenger of morning, saluteth in her song the grey dawn; and fiery Phoebus upriseth, that all the orient laugheth with the light, and with his beams drieth in the groves the silver drops hanging on the leaves. And Arcite, who is in the royal court, chief squire to Theseus, is risen, and looketh on the merry morning ; and to do his observance to May, remembering what he longeth for, is ridden from out the court into the field a mile or two, to take his pastime on a courser that boundeth ​as the flame. And to the grove of which I told you he held his way by chance, to make him a garland, were it of woodbine or of hawthorn-leaves; and loud he sang in the face of the bright sun: "May, with all thy flowers and thy green, welcome be thou, May, the fair and fresh—I hope that I shall find some green." With a lusty heart he leaped from his courser into the grove, and in a path he roamed up and down, where by adventure this Palamon was in a bush, that no man might see him, for sore afeared of his death was he. And he knew not that it was Arcite: God wot he would have trowed it full little. But sooth is said many years agone that "field hath eyes and wood hath ears." It is full fair if a man can bear him steady, for every day he meeteth men unlocked for. Little wist Arcite that his fellow was so nigh, to hearken all his words, for in the bush now he sitteth full still.
When that Arcite hath roamed his fill and sung lustily all the roundel, suddenly he falleth into a study, as do these lovers in their odd turns, now in the tree-tops, now down among the briars ; now up, now down, as a bucket in a well. Right as on the Friday, soothly for to say, now it shineth, now it raineth, so can fickle Venus overcast the hearts of her folk; right as her day is fickle, so changeth she her mind. Seldom is the Friday like all the week.
When Arcite had sung he began to sigh, and sat him down. "Alas!" quoth he, "alas, that day that I was born! How long through thy cruelty, Juno, wilt thou war against Thebes city? Alas! the blood royal of Amphion and Cadmus is brought to confusion. Cadmus, that was the first man that built Thebes or began the town and was first crowned king,—of his lineage am I and his offspring by true line, and of the royal stock ; and ​now I am so miserable and so enthralled that I serve poorly, as his squire, him that is my mortal enemy. And Juno doth me yet more ignominy, for I dare not avow mine own name, but I that was wont to be called Arcite now am called Philostrate, not worth a farthing. Alas, thou fell Mars! Alas, Juno! thus hath your ire all fordone our kindred save me only and wretched Palamon, that Theseus martyreth in fetters. And above all this, and utterly to slay me, Love hath stuck his fiery dart so burningly through my heart that my death was shapen for me before my swaddling bands. Ye slay me with your eyes, Emily, ye be the cause of my dying. Of all the remnant I set not the amount of a tare, so that I could do aught to your pleasure." And with that word he fell down a long time in a trance.
This Palamon, that thought he felt a cold sword glide suddenly through his heart, quaked for ire when he had heard Arcite's tale, and no longer would he abide, but with face dead and pale started up out of the thick bushes as he were mad, and said: "Arcite, false wicked traitor, now art thou caught that so lovest my lady for whom I have all this pain, and art of my blood and sworn to my counsel, as I have told thee full oft; and thou hast here cozened Duke Theseus and falsely changed thy name. I will be dead, or else thou. Thou shalt not love my lady Emily, but I will love her only, for I am Palamon and thy mortal foe. And though in this place I have no weapon, but am escaped out of prison only by good chance, either thou shalt die, I doubt not, or thou shalt not love Emily. Choose which thou wilt,—thou shalt not escape."
This Arcite, with full pitiless heart, when he knew him and had heard his tale, as fierce as a lion pulled out his sword, and said: "By God that sitteth on high, wert thou not sick and mad ​for love and eke hast no weapon here, never shouldst thou pass out of this grove, but die at mine hand. For I defy the bond which thou sayst I made. What, very fool! Think well that love is free, and I will love her, maugre thy strength. But forasmuch as thou art a worthy knight and wouldst contest her by battle, take here my pledge that without knowledge of any other wight to-morrow I will not fail, I swear by my chivalry, to be here and bring thee harness sufficient; and do thou choose the best and leave the worst for me. And meat and drink enough for thee I will bring this night, and clothes for thy bedding. And if so be thou win my lady and slay me in this wood, thou mayst have thy lady, for aught that I can do." Palamon answered, "I consent;" and so, when each had laid his faith in pledge, they parted till the morrow.
O Cupid, out of all charity! O kingdom that will have no sharing! Full soothly is it said that love nor lordship will have no fellow with him. Well Arcite and Palamon have found that. Anon Arcite hath ridden into the town, and ere day-light on the morrow he hath privily prepared two suits of harness, both sufficient and meet for the battle in the field betwixt the twain. And alone as he was born he carrieth all this harness before him on his horse; and in the grove this Arcite and Palamon be met at the time and place appointed. Then gan the colour change in their visages ; right as the hunter in the country of Thrace, when the bear or the lion is hunted, standeth at the gap with a spear, and heareth him come rushing in the groves and breaking both leaves and boughs, and thinketh, "Here cometh my mortal enemy,—without fail, either he is lost or I ;" so fared they in the changing of their hue, as far off as either could see the other. There was no "good-day," nor salutation; without word or de​bate each of them helped straightway for to arm each as friendly as it had been his own brother. And after that, with spears sharp and stout they thrust at each other wondrous long. Thou mightest ween that this Palamon in his fighting was a maddened lion; and as a cruel tiger was Arcite; they smote as wild boars, that froth white foam for mad ire ; up to the ankle they fought in their blood. And in this wise I leave them fighting, and I will tell you forth of Theseus.
Destiny, the general minister, that executeth over all the world the purveyance that God hath foreordained,—so strong it is that, though the world had sworn the contrary of a thing, yea or nay, yet on a time a thing shall befall that falleth not again within a thousand years. For certainly our appetites here, be it of love or hate, or war or peace, all these are ruled by the oversight above. This I mean now of mighty Theseus, who hath such desire to hunt, and chiefly for the great hart in the springtime, that in his bed there dawneth on him no day that he is not clad and ready to ride forth with hunt and horn and hounds. For all his joy and appetite is it to be himself the great hart's death ; for after Mars he serveth now Diane.
Palamon desireth to slay his foe Arcite...
This Palamon answered instantly: "Sire, what need of further words? We have deserved the death, both of us. Two woeful wretches be we, two caitiffs, wearied of our own lives; and as thou art a just lord and judge, grant us neither mercy nor escape; slay me first, for the sake of holy charity, but eke slay my fellow as well. Or slay him first, for, though thou knowest it but little, this is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite, that is banished from thy land on pain of death, for which he hath deserved to die. This is he that came to thy palace-door and said that his name was Philostrate. Thus many a year hath he tricked thee, and thou hast made him thy chief squire. And this is he that loveth Emily. For I make plainly my confession, sith the day of my death is come, that I am that woeful Palamon that broke thy prison wickedly. I am thy mortal foe; and I love so hot the glorious Emily that I would die in her sight. Therefore I ask my sentence and death, but slay my fellow in the same wise, for we both have deserved to be slain."
The worthy duke answered at once, and said: "This is a short conclusion : your own mouth hath condemned you, and I will witness to it. It needeth not to torment you with the cord, ye shall die, by mighty Mars the red!"
The queen, for very womanhood, gan anon for to weep, and ​so did Emily and all the ladies in the troup. Great pity it was, as seemed to them, that ever such a chance should befall for gentles they were, of great estate, and only for love was the strife; and the ladies saw their bloody wounds wide and sore, and they all cried, great and small: "Have mercy, lord, upon us women!" And on their bare knees down they fell to kiss his feet, till at the last his mood was softened ; for pity cometh soon in gentle heart. And though at first he quaked for ire, he gan to view the trespass of them and eke the cause thereof, and though that his ire declared their guilt, yet his reason excused them both; as thus,—he thought well that every man, if he may, will help himself in love and eke deliver himself from prison; and his heart had pity because of the women, for they wept ever alike; and anon in his gentle heart he thought and softly said: "Fie upon a lord that will have no mercy, but be a lion in word and deed to them that be repentant and meek, as well as to proud, angry men that will stiffly maintain their trespass! That lord hath little discretion that in such cases knoweth no difference, but weigheth pride and humility alike." And, to make few words, when his ire was thus gone, he gan to look up with smiling eyes and spake these words aloud: "Ah, benedicite, the god of love! How great and mighty a lord is he! Against his might availeth no barrier. Well may he be called a god for his miracles, sith he can do with every heart as he will. Lo here! this Palamon and this Arcite were wholly out of my prison and might have lived royally in Thebes, and know that I am their mortal enemy and hold their death within my might; and yet, maugre their two eyne, hath love brought them hither both to die. Look now, is not that an high folly? Who is a fool, but he who is in love? For God's sake that sitteth on high, behold how they bleed! Be ​they not in a joyous plight? Thus hath their lord paid them their wages and their fees, and yet he that serveth Love seemeth to himself full wise. But this is the best of the story, that she for whose sake they have this merriment thanketh them for it no more than me; by Heaven's King, she wot no more of all this hot ado than doth a cuckoo or an hare. But a man must make trial of all things, hot and cold; in youth or else in age every man will be a fool. I wot it by myself, for in my time, full yore ago, a lover was I. And therefore, sith I know how sore love's pain may afflict a man, and as one who oft hath been caught in his noose, all wholly I forgive you this trespass at request of the queen that kneeleth for you, and of Emily, my sister dear. And ye shall both anon swear unto me that ye shall nevermore harm my country, nor war upon me by day or night, but be my friends in all that ye can. I forgive you this trespass every whit."
And fair and well they swore to him what he requireth and prayed him for favour and that he would be their good lord, and he granted them grace, and thus he said :
"As for riches and royal lineage, out of doubt each of you is worthy to wed when time may be, were she a princess or a queen, but natheless (I speak as to my sister, Emily, for whom you have this strife) ye wot yourselves, though ye fight for evermore, she may not wed two at once ; one of you, be he never so loath, must go pipe in an ivy-leaf. She may not have you both, be ye as raging and jealous as ye may. And therefore I assign you terms that each of you shall take the destiny decreed him ; and hearken in what wise. My will is this and my flat conclusion, that admitteth no reply,—if it like you, then take it for the best,—that each of you shall go freely where he will, without ​control or ransom ; and this day fifty weeks, no farther nor nearer, each of you shall bring an hundred knights, armed aright for the lists, all ready to contest her by battle. And this I promise you upon my troth and as I am a knight, that whichsoever of you hath the greater power,—this is to say that whether he or thou may, with his hundred that I speak of, slay his adversary or force him out of lists, to him shall I give Emily to wife, to whichsoever of you Fortune granteth so fair a grace. The lists I shall make here on this ground, and so may God have mercy on my soul, as I shall be a true and fair judge. Ye shall make no other terms with me for the joust but that one of you shall be either slain or taken. And if ye deem this well said, tell your mind and be content. This is my end and my conclusion for you."
Who looketh now lightly but Palamon? Who springeth up for joy but Arcite? Who could tell or express it, the joy that is made there when Theseus hath done so fair a grace? Down on knees went every wight and thanked him with all their hearts, and most of all and oft and oft the Thebans. And thus with good hope and hearts blithe they take their leave and homeward ride, to Thebes with its broad old walls.
Explicit secunda pars.
Sequitur pars tercia.
I trow men would deem it negligence if I should forget to tell of the lavishness of Theseus, who worketh so heartily to set up the lists in royal manner that such a noble theatre, I dare well say, was not in all this world. A mile it was in circuit, walled of stone and ditched without ; the shape was round, as a circle, full ​of tiers rising by sixty paces, that when a man was set on one tier he hindered not his neighbour from seeing. Eastward there stood a gate of white marble, and westward and opposite right such another. And shortly to conclude, such another building there was not on earth, within so little space. For there was no crafty man in the country that knew geometry or arithmetic, nor portrayer or carver of images, that Theseus gave him not meat and hire to plan and to build the theatre. And for to do his pious rites and sacrifice, eastward above upon the gate he caused an altar to be made and an oratory in worship of Venus, goddess of love, and westward he made right such another in celebration of Mars, that cost many a load of gold; and northward in a turret an oratory rich to look on, of red coral and alabaster white, hath Theseus wrought in noble wise in worship of Diane the chaste.
But I have forgotten to describe as yet the noble carving and the portraitures, the figures and the semblances, that were in these three oratories. First in the temple of Venus wrought full piteously in the wall mayst thou see the broken sleeps and the chilling sighs, the sacred tears, the lamentation and the fiery strokes of desire that love's servants endure in this life ; the oaths that confirm their covenants, gladness, hope, desire and fool-hardiness, beauty and youth, mirth, riches, spells and violence, lyings, flattery, waste and disquietude and jealousy, that wore a garland of yellow marigolds and had a cuckoo sitting in her hand. All delights, singing, dancing, festivals, instruments of music, fair array, and all the circumstance of love which I have recounted and shall recount were painted in order on the wall, and more than I can make mention of. For soothly all the mount of Citheroun, where Venus hath her principal dwelling, ​was showed on the wall in portraiture with the lustiness thereof and all the garden. The porter Idleness was not forgotten, nor Narcissus the fair of yore ago, nor yet King Solomon's folly, nor yet the great strength of Hercules, the enchantments of Circe and Medea, nor Turnus, of spirit hardy and fierce, nor the rich Croesus, caitiff in bondage. Thus may ye see that wisdom nor riches, beauty nor cunning, strength nor hardiness may hold copartnership with Venus, for she can guide the world as she will. Lo! all these folk were so caught in her snare, till for woe they said full oft "Alas!" Here one or two ensamples I let suffice, though I could reckon a thousand.
The naked statue of Venus, glorious for to behold, was floating in the wide sea, and from the middle down was covered all with green waves bright as any glass. A psaltery she had in her right hand, and on her head, full seemly to see, a rose garland, fresh and well smelling. Above her head fluttered her doves, and before her stood Cupid, her son, two wings upon his shoulders, and he was blind, as he is oft portrayed, and bare a bow with bright and keen arrows.
Why should I not eke tell you all the portraiture that was upon the wall within the temple of Mars the red and mighty? All painted was it in length and breadth like to the inner parts of the grisly abode that is called the great temple of Mars in Thrace, in that cold and frosty region where Mars hath his supreme dwelling-place. First on the wall a forest was painted in which dwelt neither man nor beast, with aged barren trees, knotted and gnarled, sharp stumps and hideous to behold, through which there ran a rumbling and a gusty wind, as though the storm should rend every bough. And downward under an hill there stood the temple of Mars armipotent, wrought all of burnished ​steel, and the entrance was long and strait and ghastly to see, and thereout came a blast and rage that made all the gates to clatter. A light from the north shone in at the doors, for window on the wall there was none. The doors were all of eternal adamant, clamped along and across with toughest iron ; and to make the temple strong, every pillar that held it aloft was as great as a tun, of iron bright.—There saw I first the dark imagining of felony and all the consummation; the cruel ire, red as a coal, the pickpurse, and eke pale fear, the smiler with the knife under the mantle, the stables burning in black smoke, the treachery of the murder in the bed, open war with wounds all bleeding, strife with bloody blade and sharp threat. All full of shrieking was that sorry place. The slayer of himself I saw depicted on the wall; his heart's blood hath bathed all his hair. I saw the nail driven through the skull at night; I saw cold death lie with gaping mouth. Amid the temple sat mischance with woe and sorry visage. Madness I saw laughing in his frenzy, armed lament, outcry and fierce outrage; the corpse in the bush with throat cut through; men slain by thousands, the tyrant with his prey reft by force, the town all destroyed. Yet again, I saw burned the speedy ships, the hunter strangled by the wild bears, the sow devouring the child even in the cradle, the cook scalded for all his long spoon. No mischance was forgotten that Mars bringeth to pass; the carter run over by his cart—full low he lay under the wheel. There were also the craftsmen of Mars, the barber, the butcher and the smith, that on his anvil forgeth sharp swords. And all above, painted in a tower, sitting in great pomp saw I Conquest, with the sharp sword above him hanging by a subtle thread of twine. The slaughter of Julius was painted, of Antonius and of great Nero (albeit they were unborn at this ​time, yet was their death by menacing of Mars painted before in plain image) ; so was it showed in that portraiture as it is depicted in the stars on high, who shall be slain or else who shall die for love. Let one ensample suffice here from old stories, I may not reckon them all, though I would.
The statue of Mars stood upon a car all armed and looked grim as in a fury, and over his head there shone two figures of stars that be called, in writings, the one Rubeus, the other Puella ; thus the god of arms was presented. Before him at his feet stood a wolf with red eyes, and ate of a man. Subtly all this was wrought in reverence of Mars and of his glory.
Now to the temple of Diane the virgin will I haste me as shortly as I can, to tell you all the description thereof. High and low on the walls hunting was depicted and shamefast chastity. There saw I how woeful Callisto, when that she aggrieved Diane, was turned from a woman to a bear, and afterward she was made the lodestar; thus was it painted, I can tell you no further. Her son is a star eke, as men may behold. There saw I Danë turned to a tree—I mean not the goddess Diane, but the daughter of Penneus that was called Daphne. There saw I Actæon turned to an hart for vengeance that he saw Diane all naked; I saw how that his hounds have caught him and devoured him, for that they knew him not. A little further on was painted how the wild boar was hunted by Atalanta, and Meleager and many another, for which Diane wrought him care and woe. There saw I many another story even as wondrous, which I list not draw to mind. This goddess sat full high on an hart, with small hounds all about her feet, and under her feet was the moon, that was waxing and anon would wane. In yellow-green her statue was clothed with bow in hand and arrows in ​a quiver. Her eyes she cast down full low to that dark region where Pluto dwelleth. Before her was a woman in travail, and full piteously, because her child was so long unborn, gan she call upon Lucina and said "Help, for thou mayst best of all." Well could he paint to the life that wrought it, and many a florin he paid for the hues.
Now were the lists made, and when they were done, wondrous well was Theseus pleased, that at his great cost thus furnished the temples and the theatre. But I will stint a little of Theseus, and speak of Arcite and Palamon.
The day of their returning approacheth, when each shall bring an hundred knights to decide the cause by battle, as I told you. And to Athens, for to hold their covenant, hath each of them brought an hundred knights well and fitly armed for the war. And in sooth many a man trowed that never since the world was made, as far as God hath formed earth or sea, to speak of the knightly feats of their hands, was there so noble a company of so few. For every wight that loved chivalry and would have a surpassing name hath prayed that he might be in that combat, and happy was he that was chosen thereto. For if to-morrow there befell such a case, ye know well that every lusty knight that loveth hotly and hath his strength, be it in England or some other land, would wish to be there. To fight for a lady, benedicite! it were a lusty sight to behold.
And right so fared they with Palamon, with him went many a knight. One man would be armed in an habergeon, in a breastplate and a light jupon. One would have a great suit of plate armour, and one a Prussian shield or targe, and another would be well armed on his legs and have an ax, and another a mace of steel. There is no new fashion, that it is not old. They were armed, as I ​have said, each after his own liking. There, coming with Palamon, mayst thou see Ligurge himself, the great King of Thrace. Manly was his countenance and black was his beard; the circles of his eyes glowed betwixt yellow and red, with rough hairs on his heavy brow, and like a grifon he looked about ; his limbs great, his shoulders broad, his brawn hard and arms round and long. And he stood, as the usage was in his country, full high upon a car of gold with four white bulls in the trace. Over his harness instead of a coat-of-arms, with claws yellow and bright as gold, he had a bear's skin, coal-black and very ancient. His long hair was combed behind; as any raven's feather it shone black; a wreath of gold great as an arm was upon his head, huge of weight, set full of bright stones, of diamonds and rubies fine. About his car went white mastiffs as great as any steer, twenty and more, to hunt at the lion or the hart, and followed him with muzzle fast bound and collars of gold with rings filed therein. An hundred lords, armed full well, he had in his troop, with hearts stout and stern.
With Arcite, as men read in stories, came the great Emetreus, the King of Ind, riding like the god of arms Mars, upon a bay steed, trapped in steel, covered with diapered cloth of gold. His saddle was of burnished gold new beaten out. The vesture, whereon were blazed his arms, was of cloth of Tartary, laid with pearls white and round and great ; a mantlet hung upon his shoulder, full of rubies sparkling as fire. His crisp hair ran in yellow rings and glittered as the sun. Bright citron in hue were his eyes and high his nose, his lips were round and his colour sanguine, a few freckles sprinkled on his face, betwixt yellow and black. And as a lion he cast his look. I account his age at five and twenty; his beard was well begun to spring, and ​his voice as a thunderous trump. Upon his head he wore a fresh and lusty garland of green laurel, and bare upon his hand a tame eagle, for his pleasure, white as any lily. An hundred lords he had there with him, all armed save their heads in all their gear, and full richly. For trust well that in this noble company were gathered both dukes and earls and kings, for love and exalting of chivalry. About this king upon each side there ran full many a tame lion and leopard.
And in this wise these lords one and all were come, upon the Sunday about prime, and dismounted in the town. When this Theseus, this duke, this worthy knight, had brought them into his city and lodged them each after his degree, he feasted them and strove so to entertain and honour them that men ween yet that no man's cunning in the world could amend it. The service at the feast, the precious gifts to great and small, the minstrelsy, the rich array of Theseus' palace; what ladies be fairest or best can dance, or which can best dance and sing, or who speaketh of love most feelingly, or who sitteth first or last upon the dais, what hawks perch above, what hounds lie beneath on the floor: of all this now I make no mention. The pith, methinketh, is best to tell; now cometh the point. Hearken if ye list.
The Sunday night, when Palamon heard the lark sing, ere day began to break (though it were not day by two hours, yet sang the lark and Palamon also), with holy thoughts and an high heart he rose, to wend on his pilgrimage unto the blessed, benign Citherea, I mean Venus the honourable and worthy. And in her hour he walked forth softly unto the lists, where her temple was, and down he knelt and with humble cheer and sore heart he said as I shall tell you.
"Fairest of fair, O lady mine, spouse of Vulcanus and ​daughter of Jove, thou that gladdenest the mount of Citheroun, have pity of my bitter tears and take my humble prayer in thine heart, for that love thou hadst to Adon. Alas! I have no language to speak the torments of my hell. Mine heart may not express the harms I suffer, I am so confounded that I can say naught. But mercy, lady bright, that well knowest my thought and what harms I feel, consider all this and have ruth upon my pain, as surely as I shall be thy true servant for evermore, as lieth in my might, and hold war alway with chastity. This vow I make so ye help me. I care not to boast of arms, nor ask to triumph on the morrow, or have renown in this joust, or vain glory for mine arms trumpeted up and down, but I would have full possession of Emily and die in serving thee. Find then the manner how ; I reck not whether it may be better to have victory of them, or they of me, so I have my lady in mine arms. For though so be Mars is god of battles, your virtue is so great in heaven that, if ye list, I shall fully have my love. Thy temple evermore will I honour, and on thine altar, whatsoever my condition, will I do sacrifice and maintain fires. And if ye will not so, then Pray I thee, my lady sweet, that to-morrow with his lance Arcite may bear me through the heart. Then reck I not, when I am no more, though Arcite win her to his wife. This is the effect and end of my petition,—give me my love, thou dear and blessed lady."
When his orison was made, he did his sacrifice full piously, and that anon, with all circumstance, though I tell not now his rites. But at the last the statue of Venus shook and made a sign, whereby he understood that his prayer was accepted. For though the sign showed a delay, yet wist he well that his boon was granted him, and with glad heart he went home anon.
​The third hour after Palamon set forth to Venus' temple, up rose the sun, and up rose Emily, and gan hasten to the temple of Diane. Her maidens that she led thither had the fire full ready with them, the incense, the vestures and all the residue that belongeth to the sacrifice, the horns full of mead, as was the usage ; there lacked naught for doing her ceremony. While they censed the temple, full of fair hangings, this Emily with gentle heart washed her body in water from a spring, but I dare not tell how she did her rite, unless it be a few words in general. (And yet it were merry to hear the whole; in him that meaneth well it were no offence, and it is good that a man be frank of his tongue.) Her bright hair was combed, all untressed. A crown of green leaves of cerrial oak full fair and meet was set upon her head. Two fires she gan kindle on the altar, and did her ritual as men may read in Stace of Thebes and these old books. And when the fire was kindled, with pious cheer she spake unto Diane as I shall say.
"O chaste goddess of the forest green, who beholdest both heaven and earth and sea, queen of the realm of Pluto dark and profound, goddess of maidens that hast known my heart full many a year, and knowest what I wish, keep me from thine ire and vengeance, that Actæon cruelly suffered. Chaste goddess, well knowest thou that I would be a maiden all my days, and never be a sweetheart or wife. Thou knowest I am yet of thy company, a maid, and love hunting and to walk in the savage woods, and not to be a wife and be with child. Nothing would I know of the company of man. Now help me, lady, sith ye may, for the honour of those three forms of thy godhead; and Palamon and eke Arcite that love me so sore—this grace alone I pray thee, to send love and peace betwixt them, and so turn ​away their hearts from me that all their hot love and their endless torment and their fire be quenched or turned toward another place. And if so be thou wilt show me no favour, or if my destiny be decreed that I must needs have one of them, send me him that most desireth me. Goddess of clean virginity, behold the bitter tears that drop upon my cheeks. Sith thou art maid and keeper of all thine own, guard thou well my maidenhood, and while I live I will serve thee as a maid."
The fires burned clear upon the altar while Emily was praying thus, but suddenly she saw a wonderful sight. For right anon one of the fires went out, and took life again, and anon after that the other fire went out black and cold; and as it was quenched it made a whistling, as do these wet brands in the fire, and at the ends of the brands ran out as it were many a bloody drop; for which so sore she was aghast that she was well nigh mad and gan cry, for she wist not what it betokened, but only for the fear hath she cried thus and wept, that it was pity to see her. And upon that Diane appeared, with bow in hand, even as an huntress, and said : "Daughter, stint thy dreariness. Among the high gods it is decreed, and written and confirmed by eternal word that thou shalt be wedded unto one of them that have for thee so much pain; but to which of them I may not say. Farewell, I may tarry no longer. The fires that burn on mine altar, ere thou go hence, shall declare to thee thy lot in this love." And with that word the arrows in the quiver of the goddess clattered and rang aloud, and forth she went and vanished ; for which this Emily was all astonied and said: "Alas! what meaneth this? I put me in thy protection, Diane, and in thy governance." And home she went anon as shortly as she might. This is all, there is no more to say.
​At the next hour of Mars hereafter, Arcite walked unto the temple of Mars the fierce, to do his sacrifice with all the rites of his pagan manner. With high devotion and heart devout he said his orison to the god right thus: "O strong god, that in the cold realms of Thrace art honoured and held for lord, and in every country and every realm hast in thine hand all the bridle of arms and disposest their fortunes as thou wilt, accept of me my devout sacrifice. If so be my youth may have merit and my might be worthy to serve thy godhead, that I may be one of thine, I pray thee to have pity of my grief; remembering that pain and that hot fire in which thou whilom burnedst for the beauty of Venus the fair and fresh and young; although once it mishapped thee on a time, when Vulcanus had caught thee in his net, alas! For that sorrow which was in thine heart, have ruth upon my pains as well. I am young, thou knowest, and uncunning, and with love most tormented, as I trow, of any creature living ; for she that maketh me to endure all this woe recketh never whether I sink or float. And well I wot that I must win her by strength upon the field, ere she will show me favour, and well I wot without help or grace of thee my strength may not avail. Then help me, lord, in my battle for that fire in which thou whilom burnedst as now it burneth me, and grant me victory on the morrow. Mine be the travail and thine be the glory. Thy sovereign temple will I most honour of all places, and alway toil most in thy pleasure and thy strong arts, and in thy temple I will hang my banner and all the arms of my company, and I will maintain eternal fire before thee evermore, until the day I die. And eke I bind me to this vow, my beard and my hair I will give thee, that hang down long and never yet felt offence of razor or of shears, and I will be thy true servant ​while I live. Now, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows and give me victory. I ask thee no more."
The prayer of Arcite ended, the temple-doors and eke the rings that hung upon them clattered full loud, for which Arcite was somewhat aghast. The fires flared up upon the altar and gan illumine all the temple, and the ground gave up a smell most sweet. And Arcite anon lifted his hand and cast more incense upon the fire, with other rites. And at the last the statue of Mars began to ring his hauberk; and with that sound he heard a murmuring full low and dim that said "Victory," for which he gave honour and laud to Mars. And thus with joy and hope Arcite went anon unto his lodging, as fain as a fowl is of the bright sun.
And right anon such strife began in the heaven above, for the granting of these prayers, betwixt Venus and Mars, goddess of love and the stern god armipotent, that Jupiter was busy to stint it; till pale cold Saturnus, that knew so many ancient adventures, found an art in his old experience that full soon pleased either side. Sooth is said, age hath great advantage, in age is both wisdom and experience; men may outrun the old but not outwit. To stint contention and fear, albeit that it is against his nature, Saturn gan find a remedy for all this strife. "Dear my daughter Venus," quoth Saturn, "my course, that hath so wide an orbit, hath more power than any creature wot. Mine is the drowning in the wan sea, mine is the imprisoning in the dark cell, mine the strangling and hanging by the throat, the murmur, the groaning, the rebellion of the churls, the privy empoisoning. While I dwell in the sign of the Lion, I do vengeance and full chastisement. Mine is the overthrow of the high castle, the falling of the towers and walls on the sapper and the ​carpenter. I slew Samson when he shook the column, and mine be the cold maladies, the dark treasons and the ancient stratagems ; mine influence is the father of pestilence. Now weep no more, I shall bring it to pass that Palamon, thine own knight, shall have his lady as thou hast promised. Though Mars shall help his knight, yet ere long there shall be peace betwixt you, albeit ye be not of one like influence, which ever causeth strife. Weep thou no more. I am thy grandsire, all ready to do thy will. I will effect thy pleasure."
Now I will stint to speak of the gods above, of Mars and of Venus, and I will tell you as plainly as I can the chief matter, for which I tell the tale.
Explicit tercia pars.
Sequitur pars quarta.
Great is the festival in Athens, and eke the lusty season of May kindleth such jollity that every wight jousteth and danceth all the Monday, and spendeth it in Venus' high service. But because they shall be early up to see the great fight, they go at length unto their rest. And on the morrow when day springeth, in hostelries all about is noise and clattering of horses and of arms, and many a rout of lords on steeds and palfreys rideth to the palace. There mayst thou see harness rare and rich, well wrought with steel, goldsmithry and broidering; bright shields, head-pieces, trappings, helms of beaten gold, hauberks, coat-armours ; lords in rich tunics on their coursers, retinues of knights ; and eke squires nailing heads on spears and buckling helms, putting straps on shields and lacing with thongs, no whit slothful where there is need ; foamy steeds gnawing on the golden bridle, ​and hard by, the armourers running to and fro with file and hammer; yeomen on foot, and many commons with short staves, thick as they may go; pipes, drums, clarions, trumps, that blow bloody sounds in battle; the palace up and down full of people holding talk, here three, there ten, surmising of these two Theban knights. Some say this, some say it shall be thus, some hold with him of the black beard, some with the bald one, some with him of the thick hair; some say this man looketh grim and he will fight; that one hath a battle-ax twenty pound of weight. Thus was the hall full of surmises long after the sun gan spring.
The great Theseus, that was waked from his sleep by the minstrelsy and noise, held yet his chamber till the Theban knights, both alike honoured, were fetched into the palace. Duke Theseus was set at a window, arrayed as he were a god on throne. Full quickly the people pressed thitherward to see him and do high reverence, and eke to hearken his behest and decree. An herald on a scaffold cried "Ho!" till all the noise of the people was done, and when he saw them quiet he showed the pleasure of the mighty duke.
"The lord hath considered in his high wisdom that it were destruction to gentle blood to fight in this emprise in the manner of mortal battle; wherefore to ordain that they shall not die, he will change his first purpose. Let no man therefore, on pain of death, send or bring into the lists any manner of shot or pole-ax or short knife, nor short sword with sharp point for to stab; let no man draw it or bear it by him. And no man shall ride against his fellow but one course with sharp-ground spear, but on foot he may thrust, if he will, to defend himself. And he that is put to the worse shall be seized, and not slain but brought unto the stake that shall be ordained on either side; ​thither he shall be led by force and there remain. And if so befall that the chieftain be taken on either side, or else slay his adversary, the tourneying shall last no longer. God speed you. Go forth and lay on hard; with long sword and with mace fight your fill. Go your way now, this is the lord's decree."
The voice of the people touched the heaven, so loud they cried with joyous voice: "God save so good a lord—he will have no destruction of blood!" Up went the trumpets and melody, and to the lists rode the troop in order through the broad city, that was all hung with no serge but with cloth of gold. Full lordly rode this noble duke, these two Thebans on either hand, and next rode the queen and Emily, and after that another troop of sundry folk after their degree. And thus they passed throughout Athens and betimes came to the lists. It was not yet fully prime of day when Theseus was set down, Ipolita the queen, and Emily, full high and rich, and other ladies in rows around. Unto the seats presseth all the rout. And on the west, through the gates beneath the shrine of Mars, entereth Arcite right anon and eke the hundred of his party with banner red; and in that same moment eastward on the field entereth Palamon beneath the shrine of Venus, with white banner and hardy cheer. To seek up and down in all the world, were nowhere such two companies, so even, without varying. For there was none so wise could say that either had of the other pre-eminence in valour or in estate or age, so evenly were they chosen, I trow. And in two fair ranks they drew up. When their names had been read every one that there might be no guile in their number, then were the gates shut and a herald cried on high: "Do your devoir now, proud young knights!"
The heralds leave their dashing about, now high ring trump ​and clarion, there is no more to say but on both sides in go the spears full firmly in rest, and in goeth the sharp spur into the flank. There men see who can ride and who can joust, there shiver shafts upon thick shields, one man feeleth the stab through the breast, up spring the spears twenty foot on high, out go the swords bright as silver and hew and shred the helmets, out bursteth the blood with red stern streams, with mighty maces they break the bones. One thrusteth through the thick of the throng, there stalwart steeds stumble and down go horse and man, one rolleth under foot like a ball, one thrusteth on his feet with his shattered spear-butt, and another with his horse hurtleth him down. One is hurt through the body, and then, maugre his head, is captured and brought unto the stake, as was the agreement, and there he must even remain; another is led thither on the other side. And sometimes, to refresh them, Theseus causeth them to rest, and drink, if they will. Full oft have these two Thebans met together and each wrought his fellow woe; twice hath each unhorsed the other. There is no tigress in the vale of Galgopheye, when her little whelp is stolen, so cruel on the hunt as Arcite, for his jealous heart is upon this Palamon; nor in Belmarye is there so fell a lion that is hunted or mad for hunger, or that desireth so the blood of his prey as Palamon to slay Arcite his foe. The jealous strokes bite in their helms; out runneth the red blood on the sides of both.
Sometime every deed hath end; and ere the sun went to rest, the strong King Emetreus, as this Palamon fought with his enemy, gan seize him and made his sword to bite deep in his flesh, and by the force of twenty was he caught, unyielding, and drawn unto the stake. And in attempt to rescue him the strong King Ligurge was borne down, and for all his might King ​Emetreus was borne a sword's length from his saddle, so did Palamon hit him ere he was taken. But all was for naught, he was brought in; his hardy heart might not help him, he must needs abide, by force and eke by his agreement. Who shall sorrow now but woful Palamon, that may go no more to fight? And when Theseus hath seen this, he cried unto the folk that fought, "Ho! no more, for it is done! I will be true, impartial judge. Arcite of Thebes, that by his fortune hath fairly won her, shall have Emily." Anon began the noise of the people for joy of this, so loud and high that it seemed the lists should fall.
What now can fair Venus do? What saith she, what doth the queen of love? She weepeth, for wanting her wish, till her tears fall down into the lists. She saith: "Without all doubt, I am disgraced." "Daughter, hold thy peace," Saturn replied; "Mars hath his will, and his knight hath all he prayed for, and full soon, by mine head, thou shalt be eased."
The loud minstrelsy and trumpets, the heralds, that cried full loud, sounded on high for joy of lord Arcite. But be silent now a space and hearken what a miracle anon befell. The fierce Arcite had doffed his helm for to show his face, and on a courser spurred down the long field, looking upward to Emily. And she cast on him a friendly eye, for women, to speak generally, all follow the favour of fortune; and in his heart she was all his cheer. Out of the ground sprang an infernal fury, sent from Pluto at request of Saturn, for fear of which Arcite's horse gan swerve and leap aside, and as he leapt, foundered; and ere Arcite might take heed he flung him to the ground on his head. There he lay as one slain, his breast all crushed with his saddle-bow, his face all black as a coal or raven, so was the ​blood run into it. Anon with hearts full sore they bore him from the lists to Theseus' palace. Then was he cut out of his armour, and full fair and soon brought into a bed, for he was yet alive and conscious, and alway crying for Emily.
Duke Theseus with all his troop was come home to Athens with all bliss and great pageantry. Albeit this misadventure had betided, he would not discomfort them all; men said eke that Arcite shall not die, but he shall be healed of his harm. And they were even as fain of another thing, that of them all there was none killed, though they were sore hurt, and above all one, whose breast-bone was pierced by a spear. For other wounds and for broken bones some had salves and some had charms; they drank brews made of herbs and eke sage to preserve their limbs. Wherefore, as well he wist how, this noble duke encouraged and honoured every man and made revel all the long night for the strange lords, even as was seemly. Nor was it held that any had been discomfited, but only as at a joust or tourney, for in sooth there had been no discomfiture; falling is but a chance, it is but an ill fortune to be drawn by force, without yielding, unto the stake, one man alone to be seized by twenty knights and haled forth by arm and foot, and eke his steed driven with clubs by men on foot, yeomen and knaves—it was deemed no reproach to him, no man may call it cowardice. For which anon, to stint all envy and rancour, Duke Theseus caused to publish the fame of either side alike, as of brethren, and gave each man gifts according to his dignity, and full three days held a feast, and a long day's journey accompanied the kings out of his town. Home went every man the straight road, there was nothing more but "Farewell, have good day." Of this battle I say no more, but I will speak of Arcite and of Palamon.
​The breast of Arcite swelleth, and more and more the hurt increaseth at his heart. Spite of any leechcraft, the clotted blood corrupteth and remaineth in his body, that neither cupping nor cutting of a vein nor drink of herbs may help him. The animal expulsive virtue of his natural strength may not void the venom. The pipes of his lungs begin to swell, and every muscle from his breast down is wasted by venom and corruption. To save him availeth neither vomit upward nor downward laxative; all that region is crushed, nature hath now no dominion. And certainly, where nature will not act, farewell physic! go bear the man to church! This is all, that Arcite may not live. Wherefore he sendeth for Emily and Palamon his cousin, and then saith he thus as ye shall hear.
"The woful spirit in mine heart may not declare to you, my lady, that I love most, one point of all my bitter sorrows, but sith my life may no longer last, I bequeath the service of my spirit to you above every creature. Alas, the woe, alas, the pains that I have suffered for you so long! Alas, the death! Alas, our parting! Alas, mine Emily, mine heart's queen, my wife, mine heart's lady and my slayer! What is this world, what would men? Now with his love, now in his cold grave, alone, without a fellow. Farewell, my sweet foe, mine Emily, and softly take me in your two arms, for the love of God, and hearken to my words. I have had strife and rancour many a long day with my cousin Palamon for love of you and for jealousy. And so truly may Jupiter conduct my soul, to speak properly of a lover with all particulars, that is of his truth, honour, knighthood, wisdom and humility, high kindred and estate, liberality and all these virtues, so may Jupiter have part and lot in my soul as in this world wot I now of no man so worthy to be loved as Palamon ​that serveth you, and will till he die. And if ye shall ever be a wife, forget not Palamon the gentle."
And with that word his speech gan fail. From his feet up to his breast was come the cold of death that descended upon him, and in his two arms the vital strength is lost and gone. The intellect that dwelt in his sick and sore heart gan fade; his sight grew dusky and his breath failed. But still he cast his eye upon his lady; his last word was "Emily, your love!" His spirit changed house and went whither, sith I never came thence, I cannot tell. Therefore I stint, I am not one of the divines, of souls I find naught in this record, and I list not give their opinions of them, though they write where they dwell. Arcite is cold, and may Mars guide his soul! Now will I speak forth of the others.
Emily shrieked and Palamon wept, and Theseus anon took his sister swooning and bore her from the corpse. What helpeth it to tell all day how she wept both eve and morn? For when their husbands be gone from them, women for the more part sorrow so, or else fall in such sickness that at the last certainly they die. Infinite were the sorrow and the tears for this Theban's death, of old folk and folk of tender age in all the town, for him wept both man and child; in truth there was no such weeping when Hector was brought all freshly slain to Troy. Alas, the pity that there was! scratching of cheeks and rending of hair! "Why wouldst thou die," these women exclaim, "who hadst gold enough, and Emily!" No man might gladden the duke saving Egeus, his old father, that knew this world's transmutation, as he had seen it change back and forth, woe after gladness and joy after woe, and he showed him ensamples thereof. "Right as man never died that had not lived some​where in earth, so there lived never man in all this world that sometime he died not. We be pilgrims passing to and fro on this woful thoroughfare which is the world. Death is an end of all earthly trouble." And over all this yet he said much more to this effect, full wisely to encourage the people to take comfort.
Duke Theseus considered now with all busy care where the sepulture of good Arcite might best be made and most honourably for his rank. And at the last he determined that where first Arcite and Palamon had the battle between them for their love, in that same green, sweet grove, where Arcite made his complaint and suffered in the hot fire of love, he would build a pyre on which he might accomplish all the funeral office. And he commanded anon to hew and hack the ancient oaks and lay them on rows in logs well arrayed to burn. Anon his officers ran with swift foot and rode at his command. And after this he hath sent after a bier and overspread it all with cloth of gold, the richest that he had. And with the same he clad Arcite; white gloves on his hands, and on his head a crown of green laurel and in his hand a sword bright and sharp. He laid him on the bier with face uncovered, and wept so that it was pity to behold. And that the people all might see him, when it was day he brought him to the hall, that ringeth with the crying. Then came this woful Palamon, his hair all rough with ashes and his beard all ragged, in black clothes sprinkled with his tears; and Emily, that passeth others in weeping, the ruefullest of all. That the service might be the more noble and rich Duke Theseus let three great white steeds be brought out, that were trapped in steel and all glittering and covered with the arms of lord Arcite. Upon these steeds sat folk, of whom one bore the shield ​and another in his hands the spear; the third bore with him the Turkish bow, the case whereof and eke the harness were of burnished gold. And with sorrowful cheer they rode forth at a foot-pace toward the grove, as I shall tell you. The noblest of the Greeks that were there carried the bier upon their shoulders through the city with slack pace and eyes wet and red, by the chief street, that was spread all with black and hung wondrous high with the same. On the right hand old Egeus went and on the other side the duke, with golden vessels in their hands full of honey, milk, blood and wine; then Palamon, with a full great troop; and after that woful Emily, bearing fire in her hand to do the funeral office, as was that time the usage.
High labour and provision full richly wrought was at the funeral rite and making of the pyre, that with its green top reached the heaven and stretched its arms twenty fathom in breadth (this is to say, the boughs reached out so far) . First was laid many a load of straw. But how the pile was builded up, and eke the names how the trees were called (as oak, fir, aspen, birch, alder, holm, poplar, whipple-tree, elm, willow, ash, box, plane, chestnut, linden, laurel, thorn, maple, beech, hazel and yew), how all these were felled shall not be told for me; nor how the gods ran up and down, disinherited from their abode in which they dwelt in rest and peace, Nymphs, Hamadryads and Fauns; nor how all the beasts and birds fled in fear when the wood was felled; nor how the ground was aghast of the light, that was not wont to see the sun; nor how the fire was laid first with straw, and then with dry sticks cloven, and then with green wood and spicery, and then with cloth of gold and gems and garlands hanging with many a flower, the myrrh, the incense ​and all sweet odours; nor how among all this lay Arcite's body, with what riches about him; nor how Emily, as was the custom, put in the funeral fire; nor how she swooned or what she spake or what was her wish; what jewels men cast into the fire when it gan burn furiously, how one cast his shield and one his spear, and some cast of their raiment, and cups full of wine, milk and blood; how the Greeks with an huge troop rode thrice about all the fire with a great shout and thrice clattering their spears, and how the ladies thrice cried aloud; how Arcite was burnt to cold ashes, how Emily was led homeward, how the lich-wake was held all that night, and how the Greeks held the funeral-games ; who wrestled best naked and anoint with oil, and who bare him best and came off victor: all this I care not to say. I will not tell eke how they came home to Athens, when the games were done, but I will come shortly to the point and make an end of my long tale.
After process of certain years by general agreement the mourning of the Greeks was all stinted. At this time, I learn, a parliament was held at Athens upon certain points and cases, among which points they treated of having alliance with certain countries and of having fully the submission of the Thebans. Wherefore anon this lordly Theseus sent after noble Palamon, unknown to him what was the cause; but in his black clothes sorrowfully he came in haste at his commandment. Then sent Theseus for Emily. When they were set down and all the place was hushed, and when, ere any word came from his wise breast, Theseus had abode still for a space, he fixed his eyes and with a grave visage he sighed, and thus said his will.
"When the great first-moving Cause had created the fair chain of love, great was the deed and high his intent, and well wist he ​what he did. For with that fair chain of love he bound the fire and air, the earth and water, within certain limits that they may not escape. That same Prince and Mover of all things," quoth he, "hath established certain days and durations down in this wretched world for all that is engendered here, beyond which days they may not pass, though indeed they may shorten them. There needeth allege none authority, save that I would declare my belief that it is so, for it is proved by experience. Then may men well see by this order of things that this great Mover is stable and eternal; unless it be a fool, a man may well know that every part is derived from its whole. For nature hath not taken her origin from any corner or part of a thing but from a thing that is stable and perfect, and descendeth so therefrom till she became corruptible. And therefore, of his wise providence, God hath so well set his decree that all kinds and series of things shall endure only by succession and verily shall not be eternal. This ye may understand and see by the eye. So the oak, that hath so long a youth from the time when it first beginneth to spring, and hath so long a life, yet at the last it wasteth. Consider eke how the hard stone under our feet, on which we tread, yet wasteth as it lieth by the wayside. Sometime the broad river waxeth dry. Great towns we see wane and pass away. Then ye may see that all things come to an end.
"Of man and woman we see well also that, young or old, they must die, the king as shall a page ; one in his bed, one in the deep sea, one in the broad field, as ye may behold. Naught helpeth, all goeth that same road. Thus I may say that all must die. Who doth this but Jupiter, who is prince and cause of all things and turneth all things back unto their proper source from which they were derived? And against this it availeth no living ​creature to contend. Then is it wisdom, methinketh, to make virtue of necessity and take well what we may not eschew, and especially that which is decreed us all. And whoso murmureth at all, he doth folly and is rebel against him that guideth all things. And certainly a man hath most glory to die in the flower of his excellence, when he is secure of his fair repute and hath done his friend or himself no shame. His friend ought to be gladder when he yieldeth up his breath in honour, than when his name is all paled for age because his prowess is all forgotten. Then is it best for a worthy repute that a man should die when he is highest of fame. To be contrary to all this is wilful; why repine we, why have we heaviness, that good Arcite, flower of chivalry, hath done his duty gloriously and is departed out of the foul prison of this flesh? Why murmur his cousin and his wife at the welfare of him that loved them so? Doth he thank them? Nay, never a bit, God wot, for they hurt both his soul and eke themselves, and yet they gain naught thereby.
"What may I conclude from this long discourse but that after woe I counsel that we be merry and thank Jupiter for all his grace? And ere we depart hence, I counsel that we make of two sorrows one perfect joy lasting evermore; and look now, where most sorrow is, there will we first begin to amend it. Sister," quoth he, "this is my full edict, with the counsel here of my parliament, that ye shall of your grace take pity on noble Palamon, your own knight, that serveth you with heart and will, and ever hath done since ye first knew him, and that ye shall take him for husband and lord. Give me your hand, for thus we decree. Let see now your womanly compassion. Pardee, he is a king's brother's son ; and though he were a poor squire, since he hath served you so many a day and had so great adversity for ​you, it should be considered, believe me, your gentle mercy ought to pass bare justice."
Then said he, "O Palamon, I trow there is but small need of sermoning to make you assent to this. Draw nearer, and take your lady by the hand."
Betwixt them anon was made the bond of matrimony by all the council and baronage. And thus with all bliss and song hath Palamon wedded Emily. And God, that hath wrought all this wide world, send him the love that he hath paid for so dear. Now is Palamon in all weal, living in bliss, in health and in richesse, and Emily so tenderly loveth him and he so nobly serveth her that never was there word between them of jealousy or any other annoy. Thus end Palamon and Emily; and God save all this fair fellowship!—Amen.
Here is ended the Knight's Tale.