The Knight's Tale

Modern English

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Once on a time, as old tales tell to us, There was a duke whose name was Theseus: Of Athens he was lord and governor, And in his time was such a conqueror That greater was there not beneath the sun. Full many a rich country had he won; hat with his wisdom and his chivalry !e gained the realm of Femininity, That was of old time known as "cythia. There wedded he the queen, !i##olyta, And brought her home with him to his country. $n glory great and with great #ageantry, And, too, her younger sister, %mily. And thus, in victory and with melody, &et $ this noble duke to Athens ride ith all his armed host marching at his side. And truly, were it not too long to hear, $ would have told you fully how, that year, as gained the realm of Femininity 'y Theseus and by his chivalry; And all of the great battle that was wrought here Ama(ons and the Athenians fought; And how was wooed and won !i##olyta, That fair and hardy queen of "cythia; And of the feast was made at their wedding, And of the tem#est at their home) coming; 'ut all of that $ must for now forbear. $ have, *od knows, a large field for my share,

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And weak the o+en, and the soil is tough. The remnant of the tale is long enough. $ will not hinder any, in my turn; &et each man tell his tale, until we learn hich of us all the most deserves to win; "o where $ sto##ed, again $,ll now begin. This duke of whom $ s#eak, of great renown, hen he had drawn almost unto the town, $n all well)being and in utmost #ride, !e grew aware, casting his eyes aside, That right u#on the road, as su##liants do, A com#any of ladies, two by two, -nelt, all in black, before his cavalcade; 'ut such a clamorous cry of woe they made That in the whole world living man had heard .o such a lamentation, on my word; .or would they cease lamenting till at last They,d clutched his bridle reins and held them fast. hat folk are you that at my home) coming /isturb my trium#h with this dolorous thing0 1ried Theseus. /o you so much envy 2y honour that you thus com#lain and cry0 Or who has wronged you now, or who offended0 1ome, tell me whether it may be amended; And tell me, why are you clothed thus, in black0 The eldest lady of them answered back, After she,d swooned, with cheek so deathly drear That it was #itiful to see and hear, And said: &ord, to whom Fortune has

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but given 3ictory, and to conquer where you,ve striven, 4our glory and your honour grieve not us; 'ut we beseech your aid and #ity thus. !ave mercy on our woe and our distress. "ome dro# of #ity, of your gentleness, 5#on us wretched women, oh, let fall6 For see, lord, there is no one of us all That has not been a duchess or a queen; .ow we are ca#tives, as may well be seen: Thanks be to Fortune and her treacherous wheel, There,s none can rest assured of constant weal. And truly, lord, e+#ecting your return, $n 7ity,s tem#le, where the fires yet burn, e have been waiting through a long fortnight; .ow hel# us, lord, since it is in your might. $, wretched woman, who am wee#ing thus, as once the wife of -ing 1a#aneus, ho died at Thebes, oh, cursed be the day6 And all we that you see in this array, And make this lamentation to be known, All we have lost our husbands at that town /uring the siege that round about it lay. And now the old 1reon, ah welaway6 The lord and governor of Thebes city, Full of his wrath and all iniquity, !e, in des#ite and out of tyranny, To do the dead a shame and villainy, Of all our husbands, lying among the slain, !as #iled the bodies in a hea#, amain, And will not suffer them, nor give consent, To buried be, or burned, nor will relent,

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'ut sets his dogs to eat them, out of s#ite. And on that word, at once, without res#ite, They all fell #rone and cried out #iteously: !ave on us wretched women some mercy, And let our sorrows sink into your heart6 This gentle duke down from his horse did start ith heart of #ity, when he,d heard them s#eak. $t seemed to him his heart must surely break, "eeing them there so miserable of state, ho had been #roud and ha##y but so late. And in his arms he took them tenderly, *iving them comfort understandingly: And swore his oath, that as he was true knight, !e would #ut forth so thoroughly his might Against the tyrant 1reon as to wreak 3engeance so great that all of *reece should s#eak And say how 1reon was by Theseus served, As one that had his death full well deserved. This sworn and done, he no more there abode; !is banner he dis#layed and forth he rode Toward Thebes, and all his host marched on beside; .or nearer Athens would he walk or ride, .or take his ease for even half a day, 'ut onward, and in cam# that night he lay; And thence he sent !i##olyta the queen And her bright sister %mily, $ ween, 5nto the town of Athens, there to dwell hile he went forth. There is no more

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to tell. The image of red 2ars, with s#ear and shield, "o shone u#on his banner,s snow)white field $t made a billowing glitter u# and down; And by the banner borne was his #ennon, On which in beaten gold was worked, com#lete, The 2inotaur, which he had slain in 1rete. Thus rode this duke, thus rode this conqueror, And in his host of chivalry the flower, 5ntil he came to Thebes and did alight Full in the field where he,d intent to fight. 'ut to be brief in telling of this thing, ith 1reon, who was Thebes, dread lord and king, !e fought and slew him, manfully, like knight, $n o#en war, and #ut his host to flight; And by assault he took the city then, &evelling wall and rafter with his men; And to the ladies he restored again The bones of their #oor husbands who were slain, To do for them the last rites of that day. 'ut it were far too long a tale to say The clamour of great grief and sorrowing Those ladies raised above the bones burning 5#on the #yres, and of the great honour That Theseus, the noble conqueror, 7aid to the ladies when from him they went; To make the story short is my intent. hen, then, this worthy duke, this Theseus !ad slain 1reon and won Thebes city thus, "till on the field he took that night his rest,

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And dealt with all the land as he thought best. $n searching through the hea# of enemy dead, "tri##ing them of their gear from heel to head, The busy #illagers could #ick and choose, After the battle, what they best could use; And so befell that in a hea# they found, 7ierced through with many a grievous, bloody wound, Two young knights lying together, side by side, 'earing one crest, wrought richly, of their #ride, And of those two Arcita was the one, The other knight was known as 7alamon. .ot fully quick, nor fully dead they were, 'ut by their coats of arms and by their gear The heralds readily could tell, withal, That they were of the Theban blood royal, And that they had been of two sisters born. Out of the hea# the s#oilers had them torn And carried gently over to the tent Of Theseus; who shortly had them sent To Athens, there in #rison cell to lie For ever, without ransom, till they die. And when this worthy duke had all this done, !e gathered host and home he rode anon, ith laurel crowned again as conqueror; There lived he in all 8oy and all honour !is term of life; what more need words e+#ress0 And in a tower, in anguish and distress, 7alamon and Arcita, day and night, /welt whence no gold might hel# them

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to take flight. Thus #assed by year by year and day by day, Till it fell out, u#on a morn in 2ay, That %mily, far fairer to be seen Than is the lily on its stalk of green, And fresher than is 2ay with flowers new 9For with the rose,s colour strove her hue, $ know not which was fairer of the two:, 'efore the dawn, as was her wont to do, "he rose and dressed her body for delight; For 2ay will have no sluggards of the night. That season rouses every gentle heart And forces it from winter,s slee# to start, "aying: Arise and show thy reverence. "o %mily remembered to go thence $n honour of the 2ay, and so she rose. 1lothed, she was sweeter than any flower that blows; !er yellow hair was braided in one tress 'ehind her back, a full yard long, $ guess. And in the garden, as the sun u#)rose, "he sauntered back and forth and through each close, *athering many a flower, white and red, To weave a delicate garland for her head; And like a heavenly angel,s was her song. The tower tall, which was so thick and strong, And of the castle was the great don8on, 9 herein the two knights languished in #rison, Of whom $ told and shall yet tell, withal:, as 8oined, at base, unto the garden wall

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hereunder %mily went dallying. 'right was the sun and clear that morn in s#ring, And 7alamon, the woeful #risoner, As was his wont, by leave of his gaoler, as u# and #acing round that chamber high, From which the noble city filled his eye, And, too, the garden full of branches green, herein bright %mily, fair and serene, ent walking and went roving u# and down. This sorrowing #risoner, this 7alamon, 'eing in the chamber, #acing to and fro, And to himself com#laining of his woe, 1ursing his birth, he often cried Alas6 And so it was, by chance or other #ass, That through a window, closed by many a bar Of iron, strong and square as any s#ar, !e cast his eyes u#on %milia, And thereu#on he blenched and cried out Ah6 As if he had been smitten to the heart. And at that cry Arcita did u#)start, Asking: 2y cousin, why what ails you now That you,ve so deathly #allor on your brow0 hy did you cry out0 ho,s offended you0 For *od,s love, show some #atience, as $ do, ith #rison, for it may not different be; Fortune has given this adversity. "ome evil dis#osition or as#ect Of "aturn did our horosco#es affect To bring us here, though differently ,twere sworn; 'ut so the stars stood when we two were born; e must endure it; that, in brief, is #lain. This 7alamon re#lied and said again:

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1ousin, indeed in this o#inion now 4our fancy is but vanity, $ trow. $t,s not our #rison that caused me to cry. 'ut $ was wounded lately through the eye /own to my heart, and that my bane will be. The beauty of the lady that $ see There in that garden, #acing to and fro, $s cause of all my crying and my woe. $ know not if she,s woman or goddess; 'ut 3enus she is verily, $ guess. And thereu#on down on his knees he fell, And said: O 3enus, if it be thy will To be transfigured in this garden, thus 'efore me, sorrowing wretch, oh now hel# us Out of this #rison to be soon esca#ed. And if it be my destiny is sha#ed, 'y fate, to die in durance, in bondage, !ave #ity, then, u#on our lineage That has been brought so low by tyranny. And on that word Arcita looked to see This lady who went roving to and fro. And in that look her beauty struck him so That, if #oor 7alamon is wounded sore, Arcita is as dee#ly hurt, and more. And with a sigh he said then, #iteously: The virgin beauty slays me suddenly Of her that wanders yonder in that #lace; And save $ have her #ity and her grace, That $ at least may see her day by day, $ am but dead; there is no more to say. This 7alamon, when these words he had heard, 7itilessly he watched him, and answered: /o you say this in earnest or in #lay0 .ay, quoth Arcita, earnest, now, $ say6 *od hel# me, $ am in no mood for #lay6 7alamon knit his brows and stood at bay.

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$t will not #rove, he said, to your honour After so long a time to turn traitor To me, who am your cousin and your brother, "worn as we are, and each unto the other, That never, though for death in any #ain, .ever, indeed, till death shall #art us twain, %ither of us in love shall hinder other, .o, nor in any thing, O my dear brother; 'ut that, instead, you shall so further me As $ shall you. All this we did agree. "uch was your oath and such was mine also. 4ou dare not now deny it, well $ know. Thus you are of my #arty, beyond doubt. And now you would all falsely go about To love my lady, whom $ love and serve, And shall while life my heart,s blood may #reserve. .ay, false Arcita, it shall not be so. $ loved her first, and told you all my woe, As to a brother and to one that swore To further me, as $ have said before. For which you are in duty bound, as knight, To hel# me, if the thing lie in your might, Or else you,re false, $ say, and downfallen. Then this Arcita #roudly s#oke again: 4ou shall, he said, be rather false than $; And that you,re so, $ tell you utterly; For #ar amour $ loved her first, you know. hat can you say0 4ou know not, even now,

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hether she is a woman or goddess6 4ours is a worshi# as of holiness, hile mine is love, as of a mortal maid; herefore $ told you of it, unafraid, As to my cousin and my brother sworn. &et us assume you loved her first, this morn; -now you not well the ancient writer,s saw Of , ho shall give a lover any law0, &ove is a greater law, aye by my #an, Than man has ever given to earthly man. And therefore statute law and such decrees Are broken daily and in all degrees. A man must needs have love, maugre his head. !e cannot flee it though he should be dead, And be she maid, or widow, or a wife. And yet it is not likely that, in life, 4ou,ll stand within her graces; nor shall $; For you are well aware, aye verily, That you and $ are doomed to #rison drear 7er#etually; we gain no ransom here. e strive but as those dogs did for the bone; They fought all day, and yet their gain was none. Till came a kite while they were still so wroth And bore the bone away between them both. And therefore, at the king,s court, O my brother, $t,s each man for himself and not for other. &ove if you like; for $ love and aye shall; And certainly, dear brother, that is all. !ere in this #rison cell must we remain And each endure whatever fate ordain. *reat was the strife, and long, betwi+t

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the two, $f $ had but the time to tell it you, "ave in effect. $t ha##ened on a day 9To tell the tale as briefly as $ may:, A worthy duke men called 7irithous, ho had been friend unto /uke Theseus "ince each had been a little child, a chit, as come to visit Athens and visit !is #lay)fellow, as he was wont to do, For in this whole world he loved no man so; And Theseus loved him as truly) nay, "o well each loved the other, old books say, That when one died 9it is but truth $ tell:, The other went and sought him down in !ell; 'ut of that tale $ have no wish to write. 7irithous loved Arcita, too, that knight, !aving known him in Thebes full many a year; And finally, at his request and #rayer, And that without a coin of ransom #aid, /uke Theseus released him out of shade, Freely to go where,er he wished, and to !is own devices, as $,ll now tell you. The com#act was, to set it #lainly down, As made between those two of great renown: That if Arcita, any time, were found, %ver in life, by day or night, on ground Of any country of this Theseus, And he were caught, it was concerted thus, That by the sword he straight should lose his head. !e had no choice, so taking leave he s#ed !omeward to Thebes, lest by the sword,s shar# edge !e forfeit life. !is neck was under #ledge.

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!ow great a sorrow is Arcita,s now6 !ow through his heart he feels death,s heavy blow, !e wee#s, he wails, he cries out #iteously; !e thinks to slay himself all #rivily. "aid he: Alas, the day that $ was born6 $,m in worse #rison, now, and more forlorn; .ow am $ doomed eternally to dwell .o more in 7urgatory, but in !ell. Alas, that $ have known 7irithous6 For else had $ remained with Theseus, Fettered within that cell; but even so Then had $ been in bliss and not in woe. Only the sight of her that $ would serve, Though $ might never her dear grace deserve, ould have sufficed, oh well enough for me6 O my dear cousin 7alamon, said he, 4ours is the victory, and that is sure, For there, full ha##ily, you may endure. $n #rison0 .ever, but in 7aradise6 Oh, well has Fortune turned for you the dice, ho have the sight of her, $ the absence. For #ossible it is, in her #resence, 4ou being a knight, a worthy and able, That by some chance, since Fortune,s changeable. 4ou may to your desire sometime attain. 'ut $, that am in e+ile and in #ain, "tri##ed of all ho#e and in so dee# des#air That there,s no earth nor water, fire nor air, .or any creature made of them there is To hel# or give me comfort, now, in this) "urely $,ll die of sorrow and distress; Farewell, my life, my love, my 8oyousness6 Alas6 hy is it men so much com#lain Of what great *od, or Fortune, may

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ordain, hen better is the gift, in any guise, Than men may often for themselves devise0 One man desires only that great wealth hich may but cause his death or long ill)health. One who from #rison gladly would be free, At home by his own servants slain might be. $nfinite evils lie therein, ,tis clear; e know not what it is we #ray for here. e fare as he that,s drunken as a mouse; A drunk man knows right well he has a house, 'ut he knows not the right way leading thither; And a drunk man is sure to sli# and slither. And certainly, in this world so fare we; e furiously #ursue felicity, 4et we go often wrong before we die. This may we all admit, and s#ecially $, ho deemed and held, as $ were under s#ell, That if $ might esca#e from #rison cell, Then would $ find again what might heal, ho now am only e+iled from my weal. For since $ may not see you, %mily, $ am but dead; there is no remedy. And on the other hand, this 7alamon, hen that he found Arcita truly gone, "uch lamentation made he, that the tower ;esounded of his crying, hour by hour. The very fetters on his legs were yet Again with all his bitter salt tears wet. Alas6 said he, Arcita, cousin mine, ith all our strife, *od knows, you,ve won the wine. 4ou,re walking, now, in Theban streets, at large,

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And all my woe you may from mind discharge. 4ou may, too, since you,ve wisdom and manhood, Assemble all the #eo#le of our blood And wage a war so shar# on this city That by some fortune, or by some treaty, 4ou shall yet have that lady to your wife For whom $ now must needs lay down my life. For surely ,tis in #ossibility, "ince you are now at large, from #rison free, And are a lord, great is your advantage Above my own, who die here in a cage. For $ must wee# and wail, the while $ live, $n all the grief that #rison cell may give, And now with #ain that love gives me, also, hich doubles all my torment and my woe. Therewith the fires of 8ealousy u#)start ithin his breast and burn him to the heart "o wildly that he seems one, to behold, &ike seared bo+ tree, or ashes, dead and cold. Then said he: O you cruel *ods, that sway This world in bondage of your laws, for aye, And write u#on the tablets adamant 4our counsels and the changeless words you grant, hat better view of mankind do you hold Than of the shee# that huddle in the fold0 For man must die like any other beast, Or rot in #rison, under foul arrest, And suffer sickness and misfortune sad, And still be ofttimes guiltless, too, by gad6

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hat management is in this #rescience That, guiltless, yet torments our innocence0 And this increases all my #ain, as well, That man is bound by law, nor may rebel, For fear of *od, but must re#ress his will, hereas a beast may all his lust fulfill. And when a beast is dead, he feels no #ain; 'ut, after death, man yet must wee# amain, Though in this world he had but care and woe: There is no doubt that it is even so. The answer leave $ to divines to tell, 'ut well $ know this #resent world is hell. Alas6 $ see a ser#ent or a thief, That has brought many a true man unto grief, *oing at large, and where he wills may turn, 'ut $ must lie in gaol, because "aturn, And <uno too, both envious and mad, !ave s#illed out well)nigh all the blood we had At Thebes, and desolated her wide walls. And 3enus slays me with the bitter galls Of fear of Arcita, and 8ealousy. .ow will $ leave this 7alamon, for he $s in his #rison, where he still must dwell, And of Arcita will $ forthwith tell. "ummer being #assed away and nights grown long, $ncreased now doubly all the anguish strong 'oth of the lover and the #risoner. $ know not which one was the woefuller. For, to be brief about it, 7alamon $s doomed to lie for ever in #rison, $n chains and fetters till he shall be

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dead; And e+iled 9on the forfeit of his head: Arcita must remain abroad, nor see, For evermore, the face of his lady. 4ou lovers, now $ ask you this question: ho has the worse, Arcita or 7alamon0 The one may see his lady day by day, 'ut yet in #rison must he dwell for aye. The other, where he wishes, he may go, 'ut never see his lady more, ah no. .ow answer as you wish, all you that can. For $ will s#eak right on as $ began. %+#licit #rima #ars. "equitur #ars secunda. .ow when Arcita unto Thebes was come, !e lay and languished all day in his home, "ince he his lady nevermore should see, 'ut telling of his sorrow brief $,ll be. !ad never any man so much torture, .o, nor shall have while this world may endure. 'ereft he was of slee# and meat and drink, That lean he grew and dry as shaft, $ think. !is eyes were hollow and ghastly to behold, !is face was sallow, all #ale and ashen) cold, And solitary ke#t he and alone, ailing the whole night long, making his moan. And if he heard a song or instrument, Then he would wee# ungoverned and lament; "o feeble were his s#irits, and so low, And so changed was he, that no man could know !im by his words or voice, whoever heard. And in this change, for all the world he fared As if not troubled by malady of love,

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'ut by that humor dark and grim, whereof "#rings melancholy madness in the brain, And fantasy unbridled holds its reign. And shortly, all was turned quite u#side)down, 'oth habits and the tem#er all had known Of him, this woeful lover, /an Arcite. hy should $ all day of his woe indite0 hen he,d endured all this a year or two, This cruel torment and this #ain and woe, At Thebes, in his own country, as $ said, 5#on a night, while slee#ing in his bed, !e dreamed of how the winged *od 2ercury 'efore him stood and bade him ha##ier be. !is slee#)bestowing wand he bore u#right; A hat he wore u#on his ringlets bright. Arrayed this god was 9noted at a lea#: As he,d been when to Argus he gave slee#. And thus he s#oke: To Athens shall you wend; For all your woe is destined there to end. And on that word Arcita woke and started. .ow truly, howsoever sore $,m smarted, "aid he, to Athens right now will $ fare; .or for the dread of death will $ now s#are To see my lady, whom $ love and serve; $ will not reck of death, with her, nor swerve. And with that word he caught a great mirror, And saw how changed was all his old colour, And saw his visage altered from its kind.

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And right away it ran into his mind That since his face was now disfigured so, 'y suffering endured 9as well we know:, !e might, if he should bear him low in town, &ive there in Athens evermore, unknown, "eeing his lady well)nigh every day. And right anon he altered his array, &ike a #oor labourer in mean attire, And all alone, save only for a squire, ho knew his secret heart and all his case, And who was dressed as #oorly as he was, To Athens was he gone the nearest way. And to the court he went u#on a day, And at the gate he #roffered services To drudge and drag, as any one devises. And to be brief herein, and to be #lain, !e found em#loyment with a chamberlain as serving in the house of %mily; For he was shar# and very soon could see hat every servant did who served her there. ;ight well could he hew wood and water bear, For he was young and mighty, let me own, And big of muscle, aye and big of bone, To do what any man asked, in a trice. A year or two he was in this service, 7age of the chamber of %mily the bright; !e said 7hilostrates would name him right. 'ut half so well beloved a man as he as never in that court, of his degree; !is gentle nature was so clearly shown, That throughout all the court s#read his renown. They said it were but kindly courtesy

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$f Theseus should heighten his degree And #ut him in more honourable service herein he might his virtue e+ercise. And thus, anon, his name was so u#) s#rung, 'oth for his deeds and sayings of his tongue, That Theseus had brought him nigh and nigher And of the chamber he had made him squire, And given him gold to maintain dignity. 'esides, men brought him, from his own country, From year to year, clandestinely, his rent; 'ut honestly and slyly it was s#ent, And no man wondered how he came by it. And three years thus he lived, with much #rofit, And bore him so in #eace and so in war There was no man that Theseus loved more. And in such bliss $ leave Arcita now, And u#on 7alamon some words bestow. $n darksome, horrible, and strong #rison These seven years has now sat 7alamon, asted by woe and by his long distress. ho has a two)fold evil heaviness 'ut 7alamon0 whom love yet tortures so That half out of his wits he is for woe; And 8oined thereto he is a #risoner, 7er#etually, not only for a year. And who could rhyme in %nglish, #ro#erly, !is martyrdom0 Forsooth, it is not $; And therefore $ #ass lightly on my way. $t fell out in the seventh year, in 2ay, On the third night 9as say the books of old

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hich have this story much more fully told:, ere it by chance or were it destiny 9"ince, when a thing is destined, it must be:, That, shortly after midnight, 7alamon, 'y hel#ing of a friend, broke from #rison, And fled the city, fast as he might go; For he had given his guard a drink that so as mi+ed of s#ice and honey and certain wine And Theban o#iate and anodyne, That all that night, although a man might shake This gaoler, he sle#t on, nor could awake. And thus he flees as fast as ever he may. The night was short and it was nearly day, herefore he needs must find a #lace to hide; And to a grove that grew hard by, with stride Of furtive foot, went fearful 7alamon. $n brief, he,d formed his #lan, as he went on, That in the grove he would lie fast all day, And when night came, then would he take his way Toward Thebes, and there find friends, and of them #ray Their hel# on Theseus in war,s array; And briefly either he would lose his life, Or else win %mily to be his wife; This is the gist of his intention #lain. .ow $,ll return to Arcita again, ho little knew how near to him was care Till Fortune caught him in her tangling snare. The busy lark, the herald of the day, "alutes now in her song the morning

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grey; And fiery 7hoebus rises u# so bright That all the east is laughing with the light, And with his streamers dries, among the greves, The silver dro#lets hanging on the leaves. And so Arcita, in the court royal ith Theseus and his squire #rinci#al, $s risen, and looks on the merry day. And now, to do his reverence to 2ay, 1alling to mind the #oint of his desire, !e on a courser, lea#ing high like fire, $s ridden to the fields to muse and #lay, Out of the court, a mile or two away; And to the grove, whereof $ lately told, 'y accident his way began to hold, To make him there the garland that one weaves Of woodbine leaves and of green hawthorn leaves. And loud he sang within the sunlit sheen: O 2ay, with all thy flowers and all thy green, elcome be thou, thou fair and freshening 2ay: $ ho#e to #luck some garland green today. And from his courser, with a lusty heart, $nto the grove right hastily did start, And on a #ath he wandered u# and down, .ear which, and as it chanced, this 7alamon &ay in the thicket, where no man might see, For sore afraid of finding death was be. !e knew not that Arcita was so near: *od knows he would have doubted eye and ear, 'ut it has been a truth these many years That Fields have eyes and every wood has ears. $t,s well for one to bear himself with

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#oise; For every day unlooked)for chance annoys. And little knew Arcita of his friend, ho was so near and heard him to the end, here in the bush lie sat now, kee#ing still. Arcita, having roamed and roved his fill, And having sung his rondel, lustily, $nto a study fell he, suddenly, As do these lovers in their strange desires, .ow in the trees, now down among the briers, .ow u#, now down, like bucket in a well. %ven as on a Friday, truth to tell, The sun shines now, and now the rain comes fast, %ven so can fickle 3enus overcast The s#irits of her #eo#le; as her day, $s changeful, so she changes her array. "eldom is Friday quite like all the week. Arcita, having sung, began to s#eak, And sat him down, sighing like one forlorn. Alas, said he, the day that $ was born6 !ow long, O <uno, of thy cruelty, ilt thou wage bitter war on Thebes city0 Alas6 1onfounded beyond all reason The blood of 1admus and of Am#hion; Of royal 1admus, who was the first man To build at Thebes, and first the town began, And first of all the city to be king; Of his lineage am $, and his offs#ring, 'y true descent, and of the stock royal: And now $,m such a wretched serving thrall, That he who is my mortal enemy, $ serve him as his squire, and all humbly.

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And even more does <uno give me shame, For $ dare not acknowledge my own name; 'ut whereas $ was Arcita by right, .ow $,m 7hilostrates, not worth a mite. Alas, thou cruel 2ars6 Alas, <uno6 Thus have your angers all our kin brought low, "ave only me, and wretched 7alamon, hom Theseus martyrs yonder in #rison. And above all, to slay me utterly, &ove has his fiery dart so burningly "truck through my faithful and care) laden heart, 2y death was #atterned ere my swaddling)shirt. 4ou slay me with your two eyes, %mily; 4ou are the cause for which $ now must die. For on the whole of all my other care $ would not set the value of a tare, "o $ could do one thing to your #leasance6 And with that word he fell down in a trance That lasted long; and then he did u#) start. This 7alamon, who thought that through his heart !e felt a cold and sudden sword blade glide, For rage he shook, no longer would he hide. 'ut after he had heard Arcita,s tale, As he were mad, with face gone deathly #ale, !e started u# and s#rang out of the thicket, 1rying: Arcita, oh you traitor wicked, .ow are you caught, that crave my lady so, For whom $ suffer all this #ain and woe, And are my blood, and know my

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secrets, store, As $ have often told you heretofore, And have befooled the great /uke Thesues, And falsely changed your name and station thus: %ither $ shall be dead or you shall die. 4ou shall not love my lady %mily, 'ut $ will love her, and none other, no; For $ am 7alamon, your mortal foe. And though $ have no wea#on in this #lace, 'eing but out of #rison by *od,s grace, $ say again, that either you shall die Or else forgo your love for %mily. 1hoose which you will, for you shall not de#art. This Arcita, with scornful, angry heart, hen he knew him and all the tale had heard, Fierce as a lion, out he #ulled a sword, And answered thus: 'y *od that sits above6 ere it not you are sick and mad for love, And that you have no wea#on in this #lace, Out of this grove you,d never move a #ace, 'ut meet your death right now, and at my hand. For $ renounce the bond and its demand hich you assert that $ have made with you. hat, arrant fool, love,s free to choose and do, And $ will have her, s#ite of all your might6 'ut in as much as you,re a worthy knight And willing to defend your love, in mail, !ear now this word: tomorrow $,ll not fail 9 ithout the cogni(ance of any wight: To come here armed and harnessed as a knight,

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And to bring arms for you, too, as you,ll see; And choose the better and leave the worse for me. And meat and drink this very night $,ll bring, %nough for you, and clothes for your bedding. And if it be that you my lady win And slay me in this wood that now $,m in, Then may you have your lady, for all of me. This 7alamon re#lied: $ do agree. And thus they #arted till the morrow morn, hen each had #ledged his honour to return. O 1u#ido, that know,st not charity6 O des#ot, that no #eer will have with thee6 Truly, ,tis said, that love, like all lordshi#, /eclines, with little thanks, a #artnershi#. ell learned they that, Arcite and 7alamon. Arcita rode into the town anon, And on the morrow, ere the dawn, he bore, "ecretly, arms and armour out of store, %nough for each, and #ro#er to maintain A battle in the field between the twain. "o on his horse, alone as he was born, !e carried out that harness as he,d sworn; And in the grove, at time and #lace they,d set, Arcita and this 7alamon were met. %ach of the two changed colour in the face. For as the hunter in the realm of Thrace "tands at the clearing with his ready s#ear, hen hunted is the lion, or the bear, And through the forest hears him

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rushing fast, 'reaking the boughs and leaves, and thinks aghast. !ere comes a#ace my mortal enemy6 .ow, without fail, he must be slain, or $; For either $ must kill him ere he #ass, Or he will make of me a dead carcass) "o fared these men, in altering their hue, "o far as each the strength of other knew. There was no good)day given, no saluting, 'ut without word, rehearsal, or such thing, %ach of them hel#ing, so they armed each other As dutifully as he were his own brother; And afterward, with their shar# s#ears and strong, They thrust each at the other wondrous long. 4ou might have fancied that this 7alamon, $n battle, was a furious, mad lion, And that Arcita was a tiger quite: &ike very boars the two began to smite, &ike boars that froth for anger in the wood. 5# to the ankles fought they in their blood. And leaving them thus fighting fast and fell, Forthwith of Theseus $ now will tell. *reat destiny, minister)general, That e+ecutes in this world, and for all, The needs that *od foresaw ere we were born, "o strong it is that, though the world had sworn The contrary of a thing, by yea or nay, 4et sometime it shall fall u#on a day, Though not again within a thousand years. For certainly our wishes and our fears,

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hether of war or #eace, or hate or love, All, all are ruled by that Foresight above. This show $ now by mighty Theseus, ho to go hunting is so desirous, And s#ecially of the hart of ten, in 2ay, That, in his bed, there dawns for him no day That he,s not clothed and soon #re#ared to ride ith hound and horn and huntsman at his side. For in his hunting has he such delight, That it is all his 8oy and a##etite To be himself the great hart,s deadly bane: For after 2ars, he serves /iana,s reign. 1lear was the day, as $ have told ere this, hen Theseus, com#act of 8oy and bliss, ith his !i##olyta, the lovely queen, And fair %milia, clothed all in green, A)hunting they went riding royally. And to the grove of trees that grew hard by, $n which there was a hart, as men had told, /uke Theseus the shortest way did hold. And to the glade he rode on, straight and right, For there the hart was wont to go in flight, And over a brook, and so forth on his way. This duke would have a course at him today, ith such hounds as it #leased him to command. And when this duke was come u#on that land, 5nder the slanting sun he looked, anon, And there saw Arcita and 7alamon, ho furiously fought, as two boars do; The bright swords went in circles to

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and fro "o terribly, that even their least stroke "eemed #owerful enough to fell an oak; 'ut who the two were, nothing did he note. This duke his courser with the shar# s#urs smote, And in one bound he was between the two, And lugged his great sword out, and cried out: !o6 .o more, $ say, on #ain of losing head6 'y mighty 2ars, that one shall soon be dead ho smites another stroke that $ may see6 'ut tell me now what manner of men ye be That are so hardy as to fight out here ithout a 8udge or other officer, As if you)rode in lists right royally0 This 7alamon re#lied, then, hastily, "aying: O "ire, what need for more ado0 e have deserved our death at hands of you. Two woeful wretches are we, two ca#tives That are encumbered by our own sad lives; And as you are a righteous lord and 8udge, *ive us not either mercy or refuge, 'ut slay me first, for sacred charity; 'ut slay my fellow here, as well, with me. Or slay him first; for though you learn it late, This is your mortal foe, Arcita) wait6) That from the land was banished, on his head. And for the which he merits to be dead. For this is he who came unto your gate, 1alling himself 7hilostrates) nay, wait6) Thus has he fooled you well this many a year, And you have made him your chief

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squire, $ hear: And this is he that loves fair %mily. For since the day is come when $ must die, $ make confession #lainly and say on, That $ am that same woeful 7alamon ho has your #rison broken, viciously. $ am your mortal foe, and it is $ ho love so hotly %mily the bright That $,ll die gladly here within her sigh6 Therefore do $ ask death as #enalty, 'ut slay my fellow with the same mercy, For both of us deserve but to be slain. This worthy duke #resently s#oke again, "aying: This 8udgment needs but a short session: 4our own mouth, aye, and by your own confession, !as doomed and damned you, as $ shall record. There is no need for torture, on my word. 'ut you shall die, by mighty 2ars the red6 'ut then the queen, whose heart for #ity bled, 'egan to wee#, and so did %mily And all the ladies in the com#any. *reat #ity must it be, so thought they all, That ever such misfortune should befall: For these were gentlemen, of great estate, And for no thing, save love, was their debate. They saw their bloody wounds, so sore and wide, And all cried out) greater and less, they cried: !ave mercy, lord, u#on us women all6 And down u#on their bare knees did they fall, And would have kissed his feet there where he stood,

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Till at the last assuaged was his high mood; For soon will #ity flow through gentle heart. And though he first for ire did shake and start, !e soon considered, to state the case in brief, hat cause they had for fighting, what for grief; And though his anger still their guilt accused, 4et in his reason he held them both e+cused; $n such wise: he thought well that every man ill hel# himself in love, if he but can, And will himself deliver from #rison; And, too, at heart he had com#assion on Those women, for they cried and we#t as one, And in his gentle heart he thought anon, And softly to himself he said then: Fie 5#on a lord that will have no mercy, 'ut acts the lion, both in word and deed, To those re#entant and in fear and need, As well as to the #roud and #itiless man That still would do the thing that he began6 That lord must surely in discretion lack ho, in such case, can no distinction make, 'ut weighs both #roud and humble in one scale. And shortly, when his ire was thus grown #ale, !e looked u# to the sky, with eyes alight, And s#oke these words, as he would #romise #light: The god of love, ah benedicite6 !ow mighty and how great a lord is he6 Against his might may stand no obstacles, A true god is he by his miracles;

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For he can manage, in his own sweet wise, The heart of anyone as he devise. &o, here, Arcita and this 7alamon, That were delivered out of my #rison, And might have lived in Thebes right royally, -nowing me for their mortal enemy, And also that their lives lay in my hand; And yet their love has wiled them to this land, Against all sense, and brought them here to die6 &ook you now, is not that a folly high0 ho can be called a fool, e+ce#t he love0 And see, for sake of *od who sits above, "ee how they bleed6 Are they not well arrayed0 Thus has their lord, the god of love, re#aid Their wages and their fees for their service6 And yet they are su##osed to be full wise ho serve love well, whatever may befall6 'ut this is yet the best 8est of them all, That she for whom they have this 8ollity 1an thank them for it quite as much as me; "he knows no more of all this fervent fare, 'y *od6 than knows a cuckoo or a hare. 'ut all must be essayed, both hot and cold, A man must #lay the fool, when young or old; $ know it of myself from years long gone: For of love,s servants $,ve been numbered one. And therefore, since $ know well all love,s #ain, And know how sorely it can man

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constrain, As one that has been taken in the net, $ will forgive your tres#ass, and forget, At instance of my sweet queen, kneeling here, Aye, and of %mily, my sister dear. And you shall #resently consent to swear That nevermore will you my #ower dare, .or wage war on me, either night or day, 'ut will be friends to me in all you may; $ do forgive this tres#ass, full and fair. And then they swore what he demanded there, And, of his might, they of his mercy #rayed, And he e+tended grace, and thus he said: To s#eak for royalty,s inheritress, Although she be a queen or a #rincess, %ach of you both is worthy, $ confess, hen comes the time to wed: but nonetheless, $ s#eak now of my sister %mily, The cause of all this strife and 8ealousy) 4ou know yourselves she may not marry two, At once, although you fight or what you do: One of you, then, and be he loath or lief, 2ust #i#e his sorrows in an ivy leaf. That is to say, she cannot have you both, !owever 8ealous one may be, or wroth. Therefore $ #ut you both in this decree, That each of you shall learn his destiny As it is cast; and hear, now, in what wise The word of fate shall s#eak through my device. 2y will is this, to draw conclusion flat, ithout re#ly, or #lea, or caveat 9$n any case, acce#t it for the best:,

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That each of you shall follow his own quest, Free of all ransom or of fear from me; And this day, fifty weeks hence, both shall be !ere once again, each with a hundred knights, Armed for the lists, who stoutly for your rights ill ready be to battle, to maintain 4our claim to love. $ #romise you, again, 5#on my word, and as $ am a knight, That whichsoever of you wins the fight, That is to say, whichever of you two 2ay with his hundred, whom $ s#oke of, do !is foe to death, or out of boundary drive, Then he shall have %milia to wive To whom Fortune gives so fair a grace. The lists shall be erected in this #lace. And *od so truly on my soul have ruth As $ shall #rove an honest 8udge, in truth. 4ou shall no other 8udgment in me waken Than that the one shall die or else be taken. And if you think the sentence is well said, "#eak your o#inion, that you,re well re#aid. This is the end, and $ conclude hereon. ho looks u# lightly now but 7alamon0 ho lea#s for you but Arcita the knight0 And who could tell, or who could ever write The 8ubilation made within that #lace here Theseus has shown so fair a grace0 'ut down on knee went each one for delight And thanked him there with all his heart and might,

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And s#ecially those Thebans did their #art. And thus, with high ho#es, being blithe of heart, They took their leave; and homeward did they ride To Thebes that sits within her old walls wide. %+#licit secunda #ars. "equitur #ars tercia. $ think that men would deem it negligence $f $ forgot to tell of the e+#ense Of Theseus, who went so busily To work u#on the lists, right royally; For such an am#hitheatre he made, $ts equal never yet on earth was laid. The circuit, rising, hemmed a mile about, alled all of stone and moated dee# without. ;ound was the sha#e as com#ass ever traces, And built in tiers, the height of si+ty #aces, That those who sat in one tier, or degree, "hould hinder not the folk behind to see. %astward there stood a gate of marble white. And westward such another, o##osite. $n brief, no #lace on earth, and so sublime, as ever made in so small s#ace of time; For in the land there was no craftsman quick At #lane geometry or arithmetic, .o #ainter and no scul#tor of hard stone, 'ut Theseus #ressed meat and wage u#on To build that am#hitheatre and devise. And to observe all rites and sacrifice, Over the eastern gate, and high above, For worshi# of =ueen 3enus, god of

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love, !e built an altar and an oratory; And westward, being mindful of the glory Of 2ars, he straightway builded such another As cost a deal of gold and many a bother. And northward, in a turret on the wall, Of alabaster white and red coral, An oratory s#lendid as could be, $n honour of /iana,s chastity, /uke Theseus wrought out in noble wise. 'ut yet have forgot to advertise The noble carvings and the #ortraitures, The sha#es, the countenances, the figures That all were in these oratories three. First, in the fane of 3enus, one might see, rought on the wall, and #iteous to behold, The broken slumbers and the sighing cold, The sacred tears and the lamenting dire, The fiery throbbing of the strong desire, That all love,s servants in this life endure; The vows that all their #romises assure; 7leasure and ho#e, desire, foolhardiness, 'eauty, youth, bawdiness, and riches, yes, 1harms, and all force, and lies, and flattery, %+#ense, and labour; aye, and <ealousy That wore of marigolds a great garland And had a cuckoo sitting on her hand; 1arols and instruments and feasts and dances, &ust and array, and all the circumstances Of love that $ may reckon or ever shall, $n order they were #ainted on the wall, Aye, and more, too, than $ have ever known.

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For truly, all the 2ount of 1itheron, here 3enus has her chief and favoured dwelling, as #ainted on that wall, beyond my telling, ith all the gardens in their loveliness. .or was forgot the gate)guard $dleness, .or fair .arcissus of the years long gone, .or yet the folly of -ing "olomon, .o, nor the giant strength of !ercules, .or 1irce,s and 2edea,s sorceries, .or Turnus with his hardy, fierce courage, .or the rich 1roesus, ca#tive in his age. Thus may be seen that wisdom, nor largess, 'eauty, nor skill, nor strength, nor hardiness, 2ay with =ueen 3enus share authority; For as she wills, so must the whole world be. &o, all these folk were so caught in her snare They cried aloud in sorrow and in care. !ere let suffice e+am#les one or two, Though $ might give a thousand more to you. The form of 3enus, glorious as could be, as naked, floating on the o#en sea, And from the navel down all covered was ith green waves, bright as ever any glass. A citole in her small right hand had she, And on her head, and beautiful to see, A garland of red roses, sweet smelling, Above her swirled her white doves, fluttering. 'efore her stood her one son, 1u#ido, hose two white wings u#on his shoulders grow; And blind he was, as it is often seen; A bow he bore, and arrows bright and keen. hy should $ not as well, now, tell you

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all The #ortraiture that was u#on the wall ithin the fane of mighty 2ars the red0 $n length and breadth the whole wall was #ainted &ike the interior of that grisly #lace, The mighty tem#le of great 2ars in Thrace, $n that same cold and frosty region where 2ars to his su#reme mansion may re#air. First, on the wall was limned a vast forest herein there dwelt no man nor any beast, ith knotted, gnarled, and leafless trees, so old The shar#ened stum#s were dreadful to behold; Through which there ran a rumbling, even now, As if a storm were breaking every bough; And down a hill, beneath a shar# descent, The tem#le stood of 2ars armi#otent, rought all of burnished steel, whereof the gate as grim like death to see, and long, and strait. And therefrom raged a wind that seemed to shake The very ground, and made the great doors quake. The northern light in at those same doors shone, For window in that massive wall was none Through which a man might any light discern. The doors were all of adamant eterne, ;ivetted on both sides, and all along, ith toughest iron; and to make it strong, %ach #illar that sustained this tem#le

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grim as thick as tun, of iron bright and trim. There saw $ first the dark imagining Of felony, and all the com#assing; And cruel anger, red as burning coal; 7ick#urses, and the dread that eats the soul; The smiling villain, hiding knife in cloak; The farm barns burning, and the thick black smoke; The treachery of murder done in bed; The o#en battle, with the wounds that bled; 1ontest, with bloody knife and shar# menace; And loud with creaking was that dismal #lace. The slayer of himself, too, saw $ there, !is very heart,s blood matted in his hair; The nail that,s driven in the skull by night; The cold #lague)cor#se, with ga#ing mouth u#right $n middle of the tem#le sat 2ischance, ith gloomy, grimly woeful countenance. And saw $ 2adness laughing in his rage; Armed risings, and outcries, and fierce outrage; The carrion in the bush, with throat wide carved; A thousand slain, nor one by #lague, nor starved. The tyrant, with the s#oils of violent theft; The town destroyed, in ruins, nothing left. And saw $ burnt the shi#s that dance by #hares, The hunter strangled by the fierce wild bears; The sow chewing the child right in the cradle;

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The cook well scalded, s#ite of his long ladle. .othing was lacking of 2ars, evil #art: The carter over)driven by his cart, 5nder a wheel he lay low in the dust. There were likewise in 2ars, house, as needs must, The surgeon, and the butcher, and the smith ho forges shar# swords and great ills therewith. And over all, de#icted in a tower, "at 1onquest, high in honour and in #ower, 4et with a shar# sword hanging o,er his head 'ut by the tenuous twisting of a thread. /e#icted was the death of <ulius, Of .ero great, and of Antonius; And though at that same time they were unborn, There were their deaths de#icted to adorn The menacing of 2ars, in likeness sure; Things were so shown, in all that #ortraiture, As are fore)shown among the stars above, ho shall be slain in war or dead for love. "uffice one instance from old #lenitude, $ could not tell them all, even if $ would. 2ars, image stood u#on a chariot, Armed, and so grim that mad he seemed, *od wot; And o,er his head two constellations shone Of stars that have been named in writings known. One being 7uella, and one ;ubeus. This god of armies was com#anioned thus: A wolf there was before him, at his feet, ;ed)eyed, and of a dead man he did eat. A cunning #encil there had limned this

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story $n reverence of 2ars and of his glory. .ow to the tem#le of /iana chaste, As briefly as $ can, $,ll #ass in haste, To lay before you its descri#tion well. $n #ictures, u# and down, the wall could tell Of hunting and of modest chastity. There saw $ how 1allisto fared when she 9/iana being much aggrieved with her: as changed from woman into a she) bear, And after, made into the lone 7ole "tar; There was it; $ can,t tell how such things are. !er son, too, is a star, as men may see. There saw $ /a#hne turned into a tree 9$ do not mean /iana, no, but she, 7eneus, daughter, who was called /a#hne: $ saw Actaeon made a hart all rude For #unishment of seeing /iana nude; $ saw, too, how his fifty hounds had caught And him were eating, since they knew him not. And #ainted farther on, $ saw before !ow Atalanta hunted the wild boar; And 2eleager, and many another there, For which /iana wrought him woe and care. There saw $ many another wondrous tale From which $ will not now draw memory,s veil. This goddess on an antlered hart was set, ith little hounds about her feet, and yet 'eneath her #erfect feet there was a moon, a+ing it was, but it should wane full soon. $n robes of yellowish green her statue was, "he,d bow in hand and arrows in a case.

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!er eyes were downcast, looking at the ground. here 7luto in his dark realm may be found. 'efore her was a woman travailing, ho was so long in giving birth, #oor thing, That #itifully &ucina did she call, 7raying, Oh hel#, for thou may,st best of all6 ell could he #aint, who had this #icture wrought, ith many a florin he,d his colours bought, 'ut now the lists were done, and Theseus, ho at so great cost had a##ointed thus The tem#les and the circus, as $ tell, hen all was done, he liked it wondrous well. 'ut hold $ will from Theseus, and on To s#eak of Arcita and 7alamon. The day of their return is forthcoming, hen each of them a hundred knights must bring The combat to su##ort, as $ have told; And into Athens, covenant to u#hold, !as each one ridden with his hundred knights, ell armed for war, at all #oints, in their mights. And certainly, ,twas thought by many a man That never, since the day this world began, "#eaking of good knights hardy of their hands, herever *od created seas and lands, as, of so few, so noble com#any. For every man that loved all chivalry, And eager was to win sur#assing fame, !ad #rayed to #lay a #art in that great game; And all was well with him who chosen was. For if there came tomorrow such a case, 4ou know right well that every lusty

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knight ho loves the ladies fair and kee#s his might, 'e it in %ngland, aye or otherwhere, ould wish of all things to be #resent there To fight for some fair lady. 'en,cite6 ,Twould be a #leasant goodly sight to see6 And so it was with those with 7alamon. ith him there rode of good knights many a one; "ome would be armoured in a habergeon And in a breast#late, under light 8u#on; And some wore breast)and back)#lates thick and large; And some would have a 7russian shield, or targe; "ome on their very legs were armoured well, And carried a+e, and some a mace of steel. There is no new thing, now, that is not old. And so they all were armed, as $ have told, To his own liking and design, each one. There might you see, riding with 7alamon, &ycurgus, self, the mighty king of Thrace; 'lack was his beard and manly was his face. The eyeballs in the sockets of his head, They glowed between a yellow and a red. And like a griffon glared he round about From under bushy eyebrows thick and stout. !is limbs were large, his muscles hard and strong. !is shoulders broad, his arms both big and long, And, as the fashion was in his country, !igh in a chariot of gold stood he,

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ith four white bulls in traces, to #rogress. $nstead of coat)of)arms above harness, ith yellow claws #reserved and bright as gold, !e wore a bear)skin, black and very old. !is long combed hair was hanging down his back, As any raven,s feather it was black: A wreath of gold, arm)thick, of heavy weight, as on his head, and set with 8ewels great, Of rubies fine and #erfect diamonds. About his car there circled huge white hounds, Twenty or more, as large as any steer, To hunt the lion or the antlered deer; And so they followed him, with mu((les bound, earing gold collars with smooth rings and round. A hundred lords came riding in his rout, All armed at #oint, with hearts both stern and stout ith Arcita, in tales men call to mind, The great %metreus, a king of $nd, 5#on a bay steed harnessed all in steel, 1overed with cloth of gold, all dia#ered well, 1ame riding like the god of arms, great 2ars. !is coat)of)arms was cloth of the Tartars, 'egemmed with #earls, all white and round and great. Of beaten gold his saddle, burnished late; A mantle from his shoulders hung, the thing 1lose)set with rubies red, like fire bla(ing. !is cris# hair all in bright ringlets was run, 4ellow as gold and gleaming as the sun.

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!is nose was high, his eyes a bright citrine, !is li#s were full, his colouring sanguine. And a few freckles on his face were seen, .one either black or yellow, but the mean; And like a lion he his glances cast. .ot more than five)and)twenty years he,d #ast. !is beard was well beginning, now, to s#ring; !is voice was as a trum#et thundering. 5#on his brows he wore, of laurel green, A garland, fresh and #leasing to be seen. 5#on his wrist he bore, for his delight, An eagle tame, as any lily white. A hundred lords came riding with him there, All armed, e+ce#t their heads, in all their gear, And wealthily a##ointed in all things. For, trust me well, that dukes and earls and kings ere gathered in this noble com#any For love and for increase of chivalry. About this king there ran, on every side, 2any tame lions and leo#ards in their #ride. And in such wise these mighty lords, in sum, ere, of a "unday, to the city come About the #rime, and in the town did light. This Theseus, this duke, this noble knight, hen he,d conducted them to his city, And quartered them, according to degree, !e feasted them, and was at so much #ains To give them ease and honour, of his gains,

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That men yet hold that never human wit, Of high or low estate, could better it. The minstrelsy, the service at the feast, The great gifts to the highest and the least, The furnishings of Theseus, rich #alace, ho highest sat or lowest on the dais, hat ladies fairest were or best dandling, Or which of them could dance the best, or sing, Or who could s#eak most feelingly of love, Or what hawks sat u#on the #erch above, Or what great hounds were lying on the floor) Of all these $ will make no mention more; 'ut tell my tale, for that, $ think, is best; .ow comes the #oint, and listen if you,ve (est. That "unday night, ere day began to s#ring, hen 7alamon the earliest lark heard sing, Although it lacked two hours of being day, 4et the lark sang, and 7alamon sang a lay. ith #ious heart and with a high courage !e rose, to go u#on a #ilgrimage 5nto the blessed 1ytherea,s shrine 9$ mean =ueen 3enus, worthy and benign:. And at her hour he then walked forth a#ace Out to the lists wherein her tem#le was, And down he knelt in manner to revere, And from a full heart s#oke as you shall hear. Fairest of fair, O lady mine, 3enus, /aughter of <ove and s#ouse to 3ulcanus, Thou gladdener of the 2ount of

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1itheron, 'y that great love thou borest to Adon, !ave #ity on my bitter tears that smart And hear my humble #rayer within thy heart. Alas6 $ have no words in which to tell The effect of all the torments of my hell; 2y heavy heart its evils can,t bewray; $,m so confused $ can find naught to say. 'ut mercy, lady bright, that knowest well 2y heart, and seest all the ills $ feel, 1onsider and have ruth u#on my sore As truly as $ shall, for evermore, ell as $ may, thy one true servant be, And wage a war henceforth on chastity. $f thou wilt hel#, thus do $ make my vow, To boast of knightly skill $ care not now, .or do $ ask tomorrow,s victory, .or any such renown, nor vain glory Of #ri(e of arms, blown before lord and churl, 'ut $ would have #ossession of one girl, Of %mily, and die in thy service; Find thou the manner how, and in what wise. For $ care not, unless it better be, hether $ vanquish them or they do me, "o $ may have my lady in my arms. For though 2ars is the god of war,s alarms, Thy #ower is so great in !eaven above, That, if it be thy will, $,ll have my love. $n thy fane will $ worshi# always, so That on thine altar, where,er $ ride or go, $ will lay sacrifice and thy fires feed. And if thou wilt not so, O lady, cede, $ #ray thee, that tomorrow, with a s#ear, Arcita bear me through the heart, 8ust here.

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For $,ll care naught, when $ have lost my life, That Arcita may win her for his wife. This the effect and end of all my #rayer, *ive me my love, thou blissful lady fair. .ow when he,d finished all the orison, !is sacrifice he made, this 7alamon, ;ight #iously, with all the circumstance, Albeit $ tell not now his observance. 'ut at the last the form of 3enus shook And gave a sign, and thereu#on he took This as acce#tance of his #rayer that day. For though the augury showed some delay, 4et he knew well that granted was his boon; And with glad heart he got him home right soon. Three hours unequal after 7alamon To 3enus, tem#le at the lists had gone, 5# rose the sun and u# rose %mily, And to /iana,s tem#le did she hie. !er maidens led she thither, and with them They carefully took fire and each emblem, And incense, robes, and the remainder all Of things for sacrifice ceremonial. There was not one thing lacking; $,ll but add The horns of mead, as was a way they had. $n smoking tem#le, full of dra#eries fair, This %mily with young heart debonnaire, !er body washed in water from a well; 'ut how she did the rite $ dare not tell, %+ce#t it be at large, in general; And yet it was a thing worth hearing all; hen one,s well meaning, there is no

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transgression; 'ut it is best to s#eak at one,s discretion. !er bright hair was unbound, but combed withal; "he wore of green oak leaves a coronal 5#on her lovely head. Then she began Two fires u#on the altar stone to fan, And did her ceremonies as we,re told $n "tatius, Thebaid and books as old. hen kindled was the fire, with sober face 5nto /iana s#oke she in that #lace. O thou chaste goddess of the wildwood green, 'y whom all heaven and earth and sea are seen, =ueen of the realm of 7luto, dark and low, *oddess of maidens, that my heart dost know For all my years, and knowest what $ desire, Oh, save me from thy vengeance and thine ire That on Actaeon fell so cruelly. 1haste goddess, well indeed thou knowest that $ /esire to be a virgin all my life, .or ever wish to be man,s love or wife. $ am, thou know,st, yet of thy com#any, A maid, who loves the hunt and venery, And to go rambling in the greenwood wild, And not to be a wife and be with child. $ do not crave the com#any of man. .ow hel# me, lady, since thou may,st and can, 'y the three beings who are one in thee. For 7alamon, who bears such love to me, And for Arcita, loving me so sore, This grace $ #ray thee, without one thing more, To send down love and #eace between those two,

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And turn their hearts away from me: so do That all their furious love and their desire, And all their ceaseless torment and their fire 'e quenched or turned into another #lace; And if it be thou wilt not show this grace, Or if my destiny be moulded so That $ must needs have one of these same two, Then send me him that most desires me. 'ehold, O goddess of utter chastity, The bitter tears that down my two cheeks fall. "ince thou art maid and kee#er of us all, 2y maidenhead kee# thou, and still #reserve, And while $ live a maid, thee will $ serve. The fires bla(ed high u#on the altar there, hile %mily was saying thus her #rayer, 'ut suddenly she saw a sight most quaint, For there, before her eyes, one fire went faint, Then bla(ed again; and after that, anon, The other fire was quenched, and so was gone. And as it died it made a whistling sound, As do wet branches burning on the ground, And from the brands, ends there ran out, anon, hat looked like dro#s of blood, and many a one; At which so much aghast was %mily That she was near da(ed, and began to cry, For she knew naught of what it

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signified; 'ut only out of terror thus she cried And we#t, till it was #itiful to hear. 'ut thereu#on /iana did a##ear, ith bow in hand, like any right huntress, And said: 2y daughter, leave this heaviness. Among the high gods it has been affirmed, And by eternal written word confirmed, That you shall be the wife of one of those ho bear for you so many cares and woes; 'ut unto which of them may not tell. $ can no longer tarry, so farewell. The fires that on my altar burn incense "hould tell you everything, ere you go hence, Of what must come of love in this your case. And with that word the arrows of the chase The goddess carried clattered and did ring, And forth she went in mystic vanishing; At which this %mily astonished was, And said she then: Ah, what means this, alas6 $ #ut myself in thy #rotection here, /iana, and at thy dis#osal dear. And home she wended, then, the nearest way. This is the #ur#ort; there,s no more to say. At the ne+t hour of 2ars, and following this, Arcita to the tem#le walked, that is /evoted to fierce 2ars, to sacrifice ith all the ceremonies, #agan)wise. ith sobered heart and high devotion, on This wise, right thus he said his orison. O mighty god that in the regions cold Of Thrace art honoured, where thy lordshi#s hold,

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And hast in every realm and every land The reins of battle in thy guiding hand, And givest fortune as thou dost devise, Acce#t of me my #ious sacrifice. $f so it be that my youth may deserve, And that my strength be worthy found to serve Thy godhead, and be numbered one of thine, Then #ray $ thee for ruth on #ain that,s mine. For that same #ain and even that hot fire herein thou once did,st burn with dee# desire, hen thou did,st use the marvelous beauty Of fair young wanton 3enus, fresh and free, And had,st her in thine arms and at thy will 9!owbeit with thee, once, all the chance fell ill, And 3ulcan caught thee in his net, whenas !e found thee lying with his wife, alas6:) For that same sorrow that was in thy heart, !ave #ity, now, u#on my #ains that smart. $,m young, and little skilled, as knowest thou, ith love more hurt and much more broken now Than ever living creature was, $,m sure; For she who makes me all this woe endure, hether $ float or sink cares not at all, And ere she,ll hear with mercy when $ call, $ must by #rowess win her in this #lace; And well $ know, too, without hel# and grace Of thee, my human strength shall not avail Then hel# me, lord, tomorrow not to

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fail, For sake of that same fire that once burned thee, The which consuming fire so now burns me; And grant, tomorrow, $ have victory. 2ine be the toil, and thine the whole glory6 Thy sovereign tem#le will $ honour most Of any s#ot, and toil and count no cost To #leasure thee and in thy craft have grace, And in thy fane my banner will $ #lace, And all the wea#ons of my com#any; And evermore, until the day $ die, %ternal fire shalt thou before thee find. 2oreover, to this vow myself $ bind: 2y beard, my hair that ri##les down so long, That never yet has felt the slightest wrong Of ra(or or of shears, to thee $,ll give, And be thy loyal servant while $ live. .ow, lord, have #ity on my sorrows sore; *ive me the victory. $ ask no more. ith ended #rayer of Arcita the young, The rings that on the tem#le door were hung, And even the doors themselves, rattled so fast That this Arcita found himself aghast. The fires bla(ed high u#on the altar bright, 5ntil the entire tem#le shone with light; And a sweet odour rose u# from the ground; And Arcita whirled then his arm around, And yet more incense on the fire he cast, And did still further rites; and at the last The armour of *od 2ars began to ring, And with that sound there came a murmuring, &ow and uncertain, saying: 3ictory6

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For which he gave 2ars honour and glory. And thus in 8oy and ho#e, which all might dare, Arcita to his lodging then did fare, Fain of the fight as fowl is of the sun. 'ut thereu#on such quarrelling was begun, From this same granting, in the heaven above, ,Twi+t lovely 3enus, goddess of all love, And 2ars, the iron god armi#otent, That <ove toiled hard to make a settlement; 5ntil the sallow "aturn, calm and cold, ho had so many ha##enings known of old, Found from his full e+#erience the art To satisfy each #arty and each #art. For true it is, age has great advantage; %+#erience and wisdom come with age; 2en may the old out)run, but not out) wit. Thus "aturn, though it scarcely did befit !is nature so to do, devised a #lan To quiet all the strife, and thus began: .ow my dear daughter 3enus, quoth "aturn, 2y course, which has so wide a way to turn, !as #ower more than any man may know. 2ine is the drowning in sea below; 2ine is the dungeon underneath the moat; 2ine is the hanging and strangling by the throat; ;ebellion, and the base crowd,s murmuring, The groaning and the #rivate #oisoning, And vengeance and amercement) all are mine, hile yet $ dwell within the &ion,s sign. 2ine is the ruining of all high halls,

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And tumbling down of towers and of walls 5#on the miner and the car#enter. $ struck down "amson, that #illar shaker; And mine are all the maladies so cold, The treasons dark, the machinations old; 2y glance is father of all #estilence. .ow wee# no more. $,ll see, with diligence, That 7alamon, who is your own true knight, "hall have his lady, as you hold is right. Though 2ars may hel# his man, yet none the less 'etween you two there must come sometime #eace, And though you be not of one tem#erament, 1ausing each day such violent dissent, $ am your grandsire and obey your will; ee# then no more, your #leasure $,ll fulfill. .ow will $ cease to s#eak of gods above, Of 2ars and 3enus, goddess of all love, And tell you now, as #lainly as $ can, The great result, for which $ first began. %+#licit tercia #ars. "equitur #ars quarta. *reat was the fete in Athens on that day, And too, the merry season of the 2ay *ave everyone such 8oy and such #leasance That all that 2onday they,d but 8oust and dance, Or s#end the time in 3enus, high service. 'ut for the reason that they must arise 'etimes, to see the heralded great fight, All they retired to early rest that night. And on the morrow, when that day did s#ring, Of horse and harness, noise and

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clattering, There was enough in hostelries about. And to the #alace rode full many a rout Of lords, bestriding steeds and on #alfreys. There could you see ad8usting of harness, "o curious and so rich, and wrought so well Of goldsmiths, work, embroidery, and of steel; The shields, the helmets bright, the gay tra##ings, The gold)hewn casques, the coats)of) arms, the rings, The lords in vestments rich, on their coursers, -nights with their retinues and also squires; The rivetting of s#ears, the helm) buckling, The stra##ing of the shields, and. thong)lacing) $n their great need, not one of them was idle; The frothing steeds, cham#ing the golden bridle, And the quick smiths, and armourers also, ith file and hammer s#urring to and fro; 4eoman, and #easants with short staves were out, 1rowding as thick as they could move about; 7i#es, trum#ets, kettledrums, and clarions, That in the battle sound such grim summons; The #alace full of #eo#le, u# and down, !ere three, there ten, debating the renown And questioning about these Theban knights, "ome #ut it thus, some said, $t,s so by rights. "ome held with him who had the great

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black beard, "ome with the bald)heads, some with the thick haired; "ome said, !e looks grim, and he,ll fight like hate; !e has an a+e of twenty #ound in weight. And thus the hall was full of gossi#ing &ong after the bright sun began to s#ring. The mighty Theseus, from slee# awakened 'y songs and all the noise that never slackened, -e#t yet the chamber of this rich #alace, Till the two Theban knights, with equal grace And honour, were ushered in with flourish fitting. /uke Theseus was at a window sitting, Arrayed as he were god u#on a throne. Then #ressed the #eo#le thitherward full soon, To see him and to do him reverence, Aye, and to hear commands of sa#ience. A herald on a scaffold cried out !o6 Till all the #eo#le,s noise was stilled; and so, hen he observed that all were fallen still, !e then #roclaimed the mighty ruler,s will. The duke our lord, full wise and full discreet, !olds that it were but wanton waste to meet And fight, these gentle folk, all in the guise Of mortal battle in this enter#rise. herefore, in order that no man may die, !e does his earlier #ur#ose modify. .o man, therefore, on #ain of loss of life, "hall any arrow, #ole)a+e, or short

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knife "end into lists in any wise, or bring; .or any shortened sword, for #oint) thrusting, "hall a man draw, or bear it by his side. .or shall knight against o##onent ride, "ave one full course, with any shar#) ground s#ear; 5nhorsed, a man may thrust with any gear. And he that,s overcome, should this occur, "hall not be slain, but brought to barrier, hereof there shall be one on either side; &et him be forced to go there and abide. And if by chance the leader there must go, Of either side, or slay his equal foe, .o longer, then, shall tourneying endure. *od s#eed you; go forth now, and lay on sure. ith long sword and with maces fight your fill. *o now your ways; this is the lord duke,s will. The voices of the #eo#le rent the skies, "uch was the u#roar of their merry cries: .ow *od save such a lord, who is so good !e will not have destruction of men,s blood6 5# start the trum#ets and make melody. And to the lists rode forth the com#any, $n marshalled ranks, throughout the city large, All hung with cloth of gold, and not with serge. Full like a lord this noble duke did ride, ith the two Theban knights on either side; And, following, rode the queen and %mily, And, after, came another com#any

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Of one and other, each in his degree. And thus they went throughout the whole city, And to the lists they came, all in good time. The day was not yet fully come to #rime hen throned was Theseus full rich and high, And =ueen !i##olyta and %mily, hile other ladies sat in tiers about. $nto the seats then #ressed the lesser rout. And westward, through the gate of 2ars, right hearty, Arcita and the hundred of his #arty ith banner red is entering anon; And in that self)same moment, 7alamon $s under 3enus, eastward in that #lace, ith banner white, and resolute of face. $n all the world, searching it u# and down, "o equal were they all, from heel to crown, There were no two such bands in any way. For there was no man wise enough to say !ow either had of other advantage $n high re#ute, or in estate, or age, "o even were they chosen, as $ guess. And in two goodly ranks, they did then dress. And when the name was called of every one, That cheating in their number might be none, Then were the gates closed, and the cry rang loud: .ow do your devoir, all you young knights #roud6 The heralds cease their s#urring u# and down; .ow ring the trum#ets as the charge is blown; And there,s no more to say, for east and

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west Two hundred s#ears are firmly laid in rest; And the shar# s#urs are thrust, now, into side. .ow see men who can 8oust and who can ride6 .ow shivered are the shafts on bucklers thick; One feels through very breast)bone the s#ear,s #rick; &ances are flung full twenty feet in height; Out flash the swords like silver burnished bright. !elmets are hewed, the lacings ri##ed and shred; Out bursts the blood, gushing in stern streams red. ith mighty maces bones are crushed in 8oust. One through the thickest throng begins to thrust. There strong steeds stumble now, and down goes all. One rolls beneath their feet as rolls a ball. One flails about with club, being overthrown, Another, on a mailed horse, rides him down. One through the body,s hurt, and haled, for aid. "#ite of his struggles, to the barricade, As com#act was, and there he must abide; Another,s ca#tured by the other side. At times /uke Theseus orders them to rest, To eat a bite and drink what each likes best. And many times that day those Thebans two 2et in the fight and wrought each other woe; 5nhorsed each has the other on that day.

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.o tigress in the vale of *algo#hey, hose little whel# is stolen in the light, $s cruel to the hunter as Arcite For 8ealousy is cruel to 7alamon; .or in 'elmarie, when the hunt is on $s there a lion, wild for want of food, That of his #rey desires so much the blood As 7alamon the death of Arcite there. Their 8ealous blows fall on their helmets fair; Out lea#s the blood and makes their two sides red. 'ut sometime comes the end of every deed; And ere the sun had sunk to rest in gold, The mighty -ing %metreus did hold This 7alamon, as he fought with Arcite, And made his sword dee# in the flesh to bite; And by the force of twenty men he,s made, 5nyielded, to withdraw to barricade. And, trying hard to rescue 7alamon, The mighty -ing &yburgus is borne down; And -ing %metreus, for all his strength, $s hurled out of the saddle a sword,s length, "o hits out 7alamon once more, or ere 9'ut all for naught: he,s brought to barrier. !is hardy heart may now avail him naught; !e must abide there now, being fairly caught 'y force of arms, as by #rovision known. ho sorrows now but woeful 7alamon, ho may no more advance into the fight0 And when /uke Theseus had seen this sight, 5nto the warriors fighting, every one, !e cried out: !old6 .o more6 For it is done6

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.ow will $ #rove true 8udge, of no #arty. Theban Arcita shall have %mily, ho, by his fortune, has her fairly won. And now a noise of #eo#le is begun For 8oy of this, so loud and shrill withal, $t seems as if the very lists will fall. 'ut now, what can fair 3enus do above0 hat says she now0 hat does this queen of love 'ut wee# so fast, for thwarting of her will, !er tears u#on the lists begin to s#ill. "he said: .ow am $ shamed and over) flung. 'ut "aturn said: 2y daughter, hold your tongue. 2ars has his will, his knight has all his boon, And, by my head, you shall be eased, and soon. The trum#eters and other minstrelsy, The heralds that did loudly yell and cry, ere at their best for 8oy of Arcita. 'ut hear me further while $ tell you) ah6) The miracle that ha##ened there anon. This fierce Arcita doffs his helmet soon, And mounted on a horse, to show his face, !e s#urs from end to end of that great #lace, &ooking aloft to ga(e on %mily; And she cast down on him a friendly eye 9For women, generally s#eaking, go herever Fortune may her favor show: And she was fair to see, and held his heart. 'ut from the ground infernal furies start, From 7luto sent, at instance of "aturn, hereat his horse, for fear, began to turn

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And lea# aside, all suddenly falling there; And Arcita before he could beware as #itched u#on the ground, u#on his head, And lay there, moving not, as he were dead, !is chest crushed in u#on the saddle) bow. And black he lay as ever coal, or crow, "o ran the surging blood into his face. Anon they carried him from out that #lace, ith heavy hearts, to Theseus, #alace. There was his harness cut away, each lace, And swiftly was he laid u#on a bed, For he was yet alive and some words said, 1rying and calling after %mily. /uke Theseus, with all his com#any, $s come again to Athens, his city, ith 8oyous heart and great festivity. And though sore grieved for this unha##y fall, !e would not cast a blight u#on them all. 2en said, too, that Arcita should not die, 'ut should be healed of all his in8ury. And of another thing they were right fain, hich was, that of them all no one was slain, Though each was sore, and hurt, and s#ecially one ho,d got a lance)head thrust through his breastbone. For other bruises, wounds and broken arms, "ome of them carried salves and some had charms; And medicines of many herbs, and sage They drank, to kee# their limbs from hemorrhage. $n all of which this duke, as he well can,

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.ow comforts and now honours every man, And makes a revelry the livelong night For all these foreign lords, as was but right. .or was there held any discomfiting, "ave from the 8ousts and from the tourneying. For truly, there had been no cause for shame, "ince being thrown is fortune of the game; .or is it, to be led to barrier, 5nyielded, and by twenty knights, #ower, One man alone, surrounded by the foe, /riven by arms, and dragged out, heel and toe, And with his courser driven forth with staves Of men on foot, yeomen and serving knaves) All this im#utes to one no kind of vice, And no man may bring charge of cowardice. For which, anon, /uke Theseus bade cry, To still all rancour and all keen envy, The worth, as well of one side as the other, As equal both, and each the other,s brother; And gave them gifts according to degree, And held a three days, feast, right royally; And then convoyed these kings u#on their road For one full day, and to them honour showed. And home went every man on his right way. There was naught more but Farewell and *ood)day. $,ll say no more of war, but turn u#on 2y tale of Arcita and 7alamon. "wells now Arcita,s breast until the sore

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$ncreases near his heart yet more and more. The clotted blood, in s#ite of all leech) craft, ;ots in his bulk, and there is must be left, "ince no device of skillful blood) letting, .or drink of herbs, can hel# him in this thing. The #ower e+#ulsive, or virtue animal 1alled from its use the virtue natural, 1ould not the #oison void, nor yet e+#el. The tubes of both his lungs began to swell, And every tissue in his breast, and down, $s foul with #oison and all rotten grown. !e gains in neither, in his strife to live, 'y vomiting or taking la+ative; All is so broken in that #art of him, .ature Tetains no vigour there, nor vim. And certainly, where .ature will not work, $t,s farewell #hysic, bear the man to kirk6 The sum of all is, Arcita must die, And so he sends a word to %mily, And 7alamon, who was his cousin dear; And then he said to them as you shall hear. .aught may the woeful s#irit in my heart /eclare one #oint of how my sorrows smart To you, my lady, whom $ love the most; 'ut $ bequeath the service of my ghost To you above all others, this being sure .ow that my life may here no more endure. Alas, the woe6 Alas, the #ain so strong That $ for you have suffered, and so long6

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Alas for death6 Alas, my %mily6 Alas, the #arting of our com#any6 Alas, my heart,s own queen6 Alas, my wife6 2y soul,s dear lady, ender of my life6 hat is this world0 hat asks a man to have0 .ow with his love, now in the cold dark grave Alone, with never any com#any. Farewell, my sweet foe6 O my %mily6 Oh, take me in your gentle arms, $ #ray, For love of *od, and hear what $ will say. $ have here, with my cousin 7alamon, !ad strife and rancour many a day that,s gone, For love of you and for my 8ealousy. 2ay <ove so surely guide my soul for me, To s#eak about a lover #ro#erly, ith all the circumstances, faithfully) That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthood, isdom, humility and kinshi# good, And generous soul and all the lover,s art) "o now may <ove have in my soul his #art As in this world, right now, $ know of none "o worthy to be loved as 7alamon, ho serves you and will do so all his life. And if you ever should become a wife, Forget not 7alamon, the noble man. And with that word his s#eech to fail began, For from his feet u# to his breast had come The cold of death, making his body numb. And furthermore, from his two arms the strength as gone out, now, and he was lost, at length. Only the intellect, and nothing more.

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hich dwelt within his heart so sick and sore, 'egan to fail now, when the heart felt death, And his eyes darkened, and he failed of breath. 'ut on his lady turned he still his eye, And his last word was, 2ercy, %mily6 !is s#irit changed its house and went away. As $ was never there, $ cannot say here; so $ sto#, not being a soothsayer; Of souls here naught shall $ enregister; .or do $ wish their notions, now, to tell ho write of them, though they say where they dwell. Arcita,s cold; 2ars guides his soul on high; .ow will $ s#eak forthwith of %mily. "hrieked %mily and howled now 7alamon, Till Theseus his sister took, anon, And bore her, swooning, from the cor#se away. !ow shall it hel#, to dwell the livelong day $n telling how she we#t both night and morrow0 For in like cases women have such sorrow, hen their good husband from their side must go, And, for the greater #art, they take on so, Or else they fall into such malady That, at the last, and certainly, they die. $nfinite were the sorrows and the tears Of all old folk and folk of tender years Throughout the town, at death of this Theban; For him there we#t the child and we#t the man; "o great a wee#ing was not, ,tis certain, hen !ector was brought back, but newly slain, To Troy. Alas, the sorrow that was

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there6 Tearing of cheeks and rending out of hair. Oh why will you be dead, these women cry, ho had of gold enough, and %mily0 .o man might comfort then /uke Theseus, %+ce#ting his old father, A%geus, ho knew this world,s mutations, and men,s own. "ince he had seen them changing u# and down, <oy after woe, and woe from ha##iness: !e showed them, by e+am#le, the #rocess. <ust as there never died a man, quoth he, 'ut he had lived on earth in some degree, <ust so there never lived a man, he said, $n all this world, but must be sometime dead. This world is but a thoroughfare of woe, And we are #ilgrims #assing to and fro; /eath is the end of every worldly sore. And after this, he told them yet much more To that effect, all wisely to e+hort The #eo#le that they should find some comfort. /uke Theseus now considered and with care hat #lace of burial he should #re#are For good Arcita, as it best might be, And one most worthy of his high degree. And at the last concluded, hereu#on, That where at first Arcita and 7alamon !ad fought for love, with no man else between, There, in that very grove, so sweet and green, here he mused on his amorous desires 1om#laining of love,s hot and flaming

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fires, !e,d make a #yre and have the funeral Accom#lished there, and worthily in all. And so he gave command to hack and hew The ancient oaks, and lay them straight and true $n s#lit lengths that would kindle well and burn. !is officers, with sure swift feet, they turn And ride away to do his whole intent. And after this /uke Theseus straightway sent For a great bier, and had it all o,er) s#read ith cloth of gold, the richest that he had. Arcita clad he, too, in cloth of gold; hite gloves were on his hands where they did fold; 5#on his head a crown of laurel green, And near his hand a sword both bright and keen. Then, having bared the dead face on the bier, The duke so we#t, ,twas #itiful to hear. And, so that folk might see him, one and all, hen it was day he brought them to the hall, hich echoed of their wailing cries anon. Then came this woeful Theban, 7lamon, ith fluttery beard and matted, ash) strewn hair, All in black clothes wet with his tears; and there, "ur#assing all in wee#ing, %mily, The most affected of the com#any. And so that every several rite should be .oble and rich, and suiting his degree, /uke Theseus commanded that they bring Three horses, mailed in steel all

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glittering, And covered with Arcita,s armour bright. 5#on these stallions, which were large and white, There rode three men, whereof one bore the shield. And one the s#ear he,d known so well to wield; The third man bore his Turkish bow, nor less Of burnished gold the quiver than harness; And forth they slowly rode, with mournful cheer, Toward that grove, as you shall further hear. The noblest *reeks did gladly volunteer To bear u#on their shoulders that great bier, ith measured #ace and eyes gone red and wet, Through all the city, by the wide main street, hich was all s#read with black, and, wondrous high, 1overed with this same cloth were houses nigh. 5#on the right hand went old A%geus, And on the other side /uke Theseus, ith vessels in their hands, of gold right fine, All filled with honey, milk, and blood, and wine; And 7alamon with a great com#any; And after that came woeful %mily, ith fire in hands, as use was, to ignite The sacrifice and set the #yre alight. *reat labour and full great a##arelling ent to the service and the fire) making, For to the skies that green #yre reached its to#, And twenty fathoms did the arms out) cro#, That is to say, the branches went so

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wide. Full many a load of straw they did #rovide. 'ut how the fire, was made to climb so high; Or what names all the different trees went by. As oak, fir, birch, as#, alder, #o#lar, holm, illow, #lane, ash, bo+, chestnut, linden, elm, &aurel, thorn, ma#le, beech, yew, dogwood tree, Or how they were felled, sha,n,t be told by me. .or how the wood)gods scam#ered u# and down, /riven from homes that they had called their own, herein they,d lived so long at ease, in #eace, The nym#hs, the fauns, the hamadryades; .or how the beasts, for fear, and the birds, all Fled, when that ancient wood began to fall; .or how aghast the ground was in the light, .ot being used to seeing the sun so bright; .or how the fire was started first with straw, And then with dry wood, riven thrice by saw, And then with green wood and with s#icery, And then with cloth of gold and 8ewellery, And garlands hanging with full many a flower, And myrrh, and incense, sweet as rose in bower; .or how Arcita lies among all this, .or what vast wealth about his body is; .or how this %mily, as was their way, &ighted the sacred funeral fire, that day,

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.or how she swooned when men built u# the fire, .or what she said, nor what was her desire; .o, nor what gems men on the fire then cast, hen the white flame went high and burned so fast; .or how one cast his shield, and one his s#ear, And some their vestments, on that burning bier, ith cu#s of wine, and cu#s of milk, and blood, $nto that flame, which burned as wild) fire would; .or how the *reeks, in one huge wailing rout, ;ode slowly three times all the fire about, 5#on the left hand, with a loud shouting, And three times more, with wea#ons clattering, hile thrice the women there raised u# a cry; .or how was homeward led sad %mily; .or how Arcita burned to ashes cold; .or aught of how the lichwake they did hold All that same night, nor how the *reeks did #lay The Funeral *ames, $ will not say, ho, naked, wrestled best, with oil anointed, .or who best bore himself in deeds a##ointed. $ will not even tell how they were gone !ome, into Athens, when the #lay was done; 'ut briefly to the #oint, now, will $ wend And make of this, my lengthy tale, an end. ith #assing in their length of certain years, All #ut by was the mourning and the

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tears Of *reeks, as by one general assent; And then it seems there was a #arliament At Athens, u#on certain #oints in case; Among the which #oints s#oken of there was The ratifying of alliances That should hold Thebes from all defiances. hereat this noble Theseus, anon, $nvited there the gentle 7alamon, .ot telling him what was the cause, and why; 'ut in his mourning clothes, and sorrowfully, !e came u#on that bidding, so say $. And then /uke Theseus sent for %mily. hen they were seated and was hushed the #lace, And Theseus had mused a little s#ace, %re any word came from his full wise breast, !is two eyes fi+ed on whoso #leased him best, Then with a sad face sighed he dee# and still, And after that began to s#eak his will. The 7rimal 2over and the 1ause above, hen first !e forged the goodly chain of love, *reat the effect, and high was !is intent; ell knew !e why, and what thereof !e meant; For with that goodly chain of love !e bound The fire, the air, the water, and dry ground $n certain bounds, the which they might not flee; That same First 1ause and 2over, then quoth he, !as stablished in this base world, u# and down, A certain length of days to call their

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own For all that are engendered in this #lace, 'eyond the which not one day may they #ace, Though yet all may that certain time abridge; Authority there needs none, $ allege, For it is well #roved by e+#erience, "ave that $ #lease to clarify my sense. Then may men by this order well discern This 2over to be stable and eterne. ell may man know, unless he be a fool, That every #art derives but from the whole. For .ature has not taken his being From any #art and #ortion of a thing, 'ut from a substance #erfect, stable aye, And so continuing till changed away. And therefore, of !is isdom,s 7rovidence, !as !e so well established ordinance That s#ecies of all things and all #rogressions, $f they,d endure, it must be by successions, .ot being themselves eternal, ,tis no lie: This may you understand and see by eye. &o now, the oak, that has long nourishing %ven from the time that it begins to s#ring, And has so long a life, as we may see, 4et at the last all wasted is the tree. 1onsider, too, how even the hard stone 5nder our feet we tread each day u#on 4et wastes it, as it lies beside the way. And the broad river will be dry some day. And great towns wane; we see them vanishing. Thus may we see the end to everything. Of man and woman 8ust the same is true:

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.eeds must, in either season of the two, That is to say, in youth or else in age, All men #erish, the king as well as #age; "ome in their bed, and some in the dee# sea, And some in the wide field) as it may be; There,s naught will hel#; all go the same way. Aye, Then may $ say that everything must die. ho causes this but <u#iter the -ing0 !e is the 7rince and 1ause of everything, 1onverting all back to that #rimal well From which it was derived, ,tis sooth to tell. And against this, for every thing alive, Of any state, avalls it not to strive. Then is it wisdom, as it seems to me, To make a virtue of necessity, And calmly take what we may not eschew, And s#ecially that which to all is due. hoso would balk at aught, he does folly, And thus rebels against !is #otency. And certainly a man has most honour $n dying in his e+cellence and flower, hen he is certain of his high good name; For then he gives to friend, and self, no shame. And gladder ought a friend be of his death hen, in much honour, he yields u# his breath, Than when his name,s grown feeble with old age; For all forgotten, then, is his courage. !ence it is best for all of noble name To die when at the summit of their fame. The contrary of this is wilfulness. hy do we grumble0 hy have heaviness

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That good Arcita, chivalry,s fair flower, $s gone, with honour, in his best)lived hour. Out of the filthy #rison of this life0 hy grumble here his cousin and his wife About his welfare, who loved them so well0 1an he thank them0 .ay, *od knows, not6 .or tell !ow they his soul and their own selves offend, Though yet they may not their desires amend. hat may $ #rove by this long argument "ave that we all turn to merriment, After our grief, and give <ove thanks for grace. And so, before we go from out this #lace, $ counsel that we make, of sorrows two One #erfect 8oy, lasting for aye, for you; And look you now, where most woe is herein, There will we first amend it and begin. "ister, quoth he, you have my full consent, ith the advice of this my 7arliament, That gentle 7alamon, your own true knight, ho serves you well with will and heart and might, And so has ever, since you knew him first) That you shall, of your grace, allay his thirst 'y taking him for husband and for lord: &end me your hand, for this is our accord. &et now your woman,s #ity make him glad. For he is a king,s brother,s son, by gad; And though he were a #oor knight bachelor, "ince he has served you for so many a

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year, And borne for you so great adversity, This ought to weigh with you, it seems to me, For mercy ought to dominate mere right. Then said he thus to 7alamon the knight: $ think there needs but little sermoning To make you give consent, now, to this thing. 1ome near, and take your lady by the hand. 'etween them, then, was tied that nu#tial band, hich is called matrimony or marriage, 'y all the council and the baronage. And thus, in all bliss and with melody, !as 7alamon now wedded %mily. And *od ho all this universe has wrought, "end him !is love, who has it dearly bought. For now has 7alamon, in all things, wealth, &iving in bliss, in riches, and in health; And %mily loved him so tenderly, And he served her so well and faithfully, That never word once marred their ha##iness, .o 8ealousy, nor other such distress. Thus ends now 7alamon and %mily; And may *od save all this fair com#any6 Amen.