Alas, why plainen men so in commúne
Of purveyance of God,368 or of Fortúne,
That giveth them full oft in many a guise
Well better than they can themselves devise?
Some man desireth for to have richess,
That cause is of his murder or great sickness.
And some man would out of his prison fain,
That in his house is of his meinie369 slain.
Infinite harmës be in this mattére.
We wot never what thing we pray for here.
We fare as he that drunk is as a mouse.
A drunken man wot well he hath an house,
But he wot not which is the right way thither,
And to a drunken man the way is slither.370
And certes in this world so farë we.
We seekë fast after felicity,
But we go wrong full often truëly.
Thus we may sayen all, and namely371 I,
That ween’d,372 and had a great opinión,
That if I might escapë from prisón
Then had I been in joy and perfect heal,
Where now I am exiled from my weal.
Since that I may not see you, Emily,
I am but dead; there is no remedy.”
Upon that other sidë, Palamon,
When that he wist Arcita was agone,
Much sorrow maketh, that the greatë tower
Resounded of his yelling and clamoúr.
The purë fetters373 on his shinnës great
Were of his bitter saltë tearës wet.
“Alas!” quoth he, “Arcita, cousin mine,
Of all our strife, God wot, the fruit is thine.
Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,
And of my woe thou givest little charge.374
Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead,375
Assemble all the folk of our kindréd,
And make a war so sharp on this countrý,
That by some áventure, or some treatý,
Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife,
For whom that I must needës lose my life.
For as by way of possibility,
Since thou art at thy large, of prison free,
And art a lord, great is thine ávantage,
More than is mine, that sterve376 here in a cage.
For I must weep and wail, while that I live,
With all the woe that prison may me give,
And eke with pain that love me gives also,
That doubles all my torment and my woe.”
Therewith the fire of jealousy upstart
Within his breast, and hent him by the heart
So woodly,377 that he like was to behold
The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.
Then said; “O cruel goddess, that govérn
This world with binding of your word etern,378
And writen in the table of adamant
Your parlement379 and your eternal grant,
What is mankind more unto you y-hold380
Than is the sheep, that rouketh381 in the fold!
For slain is man, right as another beast,
And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest,
And hath sicknéss, and great adversity,
And oftentimës guiltëless, pardie.382
What governance is in your prescience,
That guiltëless tormenteth innocence?
And yet increaseth this all my penance,
That man is bounden to his observance
For Goddë’s sake to letten of his will,383
Whereas a beast may all his lust384 fulfil.
And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain;
But man after his death must weep and plain,
Though in this worldë he have care and woe:
Withoutë doubt it mayë standen so.
“The answer of this leave I to divinës,
But well I wot, that in this world great pine385 is:
Alas! I see a serpent or a thief
That many a truë man hath done mischief,
Go at his large, and where him list may turn.
But I must be in prison through Saturn,
And eke through Juno, jealous and eke wood,386
That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood
Of Thebes, with his wastë wallës wide.
And Venus slay’th me on that other side
For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.”
Now will I stent387 of Palamon a lite,388
And let him in his prison stillë dwell,
And of Arcita forth I will you tell.
The summer passeth, and the nightës long
Increasë double-wise the painës strong
Both of the lover and the prisonére.
I n’ot389 which hath the wofuller mistére.390
For, shortly for to say, this Palamon
Perpetually is damned to prisón,
In chainës and in fetters to be dead;
And Arcite is exiled on his head391
For evermore as out of that country,
Nor never more he shall his lady see.
You lovers ask I now this question,392
Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?
The one may see his lady day by day,
But in prison he dwellë must alway.
The other where him list may ride or go,
But see his lady shall he never mo’.
Now deem all as you listë, ye that can,
For I will tell you forth as I began.
When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,
Full oft a day he swelt,393 and said, “Alas!”
For see this lady he shall never mo’.
And shortly to concluden all his woe,
So much sorrow had never creatúre
That is or shall be while the world may dure.
His sleep, his meat, his drink is him byraft,394
That lean he wex,395 and dry as any shaft.396
His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,
His hue fallow,397 and pale as ashes cold,
And solitary he was, ever alone,
And wailing all the night, making his moan.
And if he heardë song or instrument,
Then would he weepen, he might not be stent.398
So feeble were his spirits, and so low,
And changed so, that no man couldë know
His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.
And in his gear399 for all the world he far’d
Not only like the lovers’ malady
Of Eros, but rather y-like maníe,400
Engender’d of humoúrs meláncholic,
Before his head in his cell fántastic.401
And shortly turned was all upside down,
Both habit and eke dispositioún,
Of him, this woful lover Dan402 Arcite.
Why should I all day of his woe indite?
When he endured had a year or two
This cruel torment, and this pain and woe,
At Thebes, in his country, as I said,
Upon a night in sleep as
