And of another thing they were as fain,789
That of them allë was there no one slain,
All790 were they sorely hurt, and namely791 one,
That with a spear was thirled792 his breast-bone.
To other woundës, and to broken arms,
Some hadden salvës, and some hadden charms:
And pharmacies of herbs, and ekë save793
They dranken, for they would their livës have.
For which this noble Duke, as he well can,
Comfórteth and honoúreth every man,
And madë revel all the longë night,
Unto the strangë lordës, as was right.
Nor there was holden no discomforting,
But as at jousts or at a tourneying;
For soothly there was no discomfiture,
For falling is not but an áventure.794
Nor to be led by force unto a stake
Unyielding, and with twenty knights y-take
One person all alone, withouten mo’,
And harried795 forth by armës, foot, and toe,
And eke his steedë driven forth with staves,
With footmen, bothë yeomen and eke knaves,796
It was aretted797 him no villainy:
There may no man clepen it cowardy.798
For which anon Duke Theseus let cry—799
To stenten800 allë rancour and envy—
The gree801 as well on one side as the other,
And either side alike as other’s brother:
And gave them giftës after their degree,
And held a feastë fully dayës three:
And conveyed the kingës worthily
Out of his town a journée802 largëly.
And home went every man the rightë way,
There was no more but “Farewell, Have good day.”
Of this batáille I will no more indite,
But speak of Palamon and of Arcite.
Swelleth the breast of Arcite and the sore
Increaseth at his heartë more and more.
The clotted blood, for any leachë-craft,803
Corrupteth and is in his bouk y-laft,804
That neither veinë-blood nor ventousing,805
Nor drink of herbës may be his helping.
The virtue expulsive or animal,
From thilkë virtue called natural,
Nor may the venom voidë, nor expel.
The pipës of his lungs began to swell,
And every lacert806 in his breast adown
Is shent807 with venom and corruptioún.
Him gaineth808 neither, for to get his life,
Vomit upwárd, nor downward laxative;
All is to-bursten thilkë región;
Nature hath now no dominatión.
And certainly where nature will not wirch,809
Farewell physíc: go bear the man to chirch.810
This all and some is, Arcite must die.
For which he sendeth after Emily,
And Palamon, that was his cousin dear.
Then said he thus, as ye shall after hear.
“Nought may the woful spirit in mine heart
Declare one point of all my sorrows’ smart
To you, my lady, that I love the most;
But I bequeath the service of my ghost811
To you aboven every creature,
Since that my life ne may no longer dure.
Alas the woe! alas, the painës strong
That I for you have suffered, and so long!
Alas the death! alas, mine Emily!
Alas departing812 of our company!
Alas, mine heartë’s queen! alas, my wife!
Mine heartë’s lady, ender of my life!
What is this world? what askë men to have?
Now with his love, now in his coldë grave
Alone, withouten any company.
Farewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily,
And softly take me in your armës tway,
For love of God, and hearken what I say.
I have here with my cousin Palamon
Had strife and rancour many a day agone,
For love of you, and for my jealousy.
And Jupiter so wis my soulë gie,813
To speaken of a servant properly,
With allë circumstances truëly,
That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,
Wisdom, humbless,814 estate, and high kindred,
Freedom, and all that longeth to that art,
So Jupiter have of my soulë part,
As in this world right now I know not one,
So worthy to be lov’d as Palamon,
That serveth you, and will do all his life.
And if that you shall ever be a wife,
Forget not Palamon, the gentle man.”
And with that word his speech to fail began.
For from his feet up to his breast was come
The cold of death, that had him overnome.815
And yet moreover in his armës two
The vital strength is lost, and all ago.816
Only the intellect, withoutë more,
That dwelled in his heartë sick and sore,
Gan failë, when the heartë feltë death;
Dusked817 his eyen two, and fail’d his breath.
But on his lady yet he cast his eye;
His lastë word was; “Mercy, Emily!”
His spirit changed house, and wentë there,
As I came never I cannot tell where.818
Therefore I stent,819 I am no diviníster;820
Of soulës find I nought in this regíster.
Ne me list not th’ opinions to tell
Of them, though that they writen where they dwell;
Arcite is cold, there Mars his soulë gie.821
Now will I speakë forth of Emily.
Shriek’d Emily, and howled Palamon,
And Theseus his sister took anon
Swooning, and bare her from the corpse away.
What helpeth it to tarry forth the day,
To tellë how she wept both eve and morrow?
For in such cases women have such sorrow,
When that their husbands be from them y-go,822
That for the morë part they sorrow so,
Or ellës fall into such malady,
That at the lastë certainly they die.
Infinite be the sorrows and the tears
Of oldë folk, and folk of tender years,
In all the town, for death of this Theban:
For him there weepeth bothë child and man.
So great a weeping was there none certáin,
When Hector was y-brought, all fresh y-slain,
To Troy: alas! the pity that was there,
Scratching of cheeks, and rending eke of hair.
“Why wouldest thou be dead?” these women cry,
“And haddest gold enough, and Emily.”
No manner man might gladden Theseus,
Saving his oldë father Egeus,
That knew this worldë’s transmutatioun,
As he had seen it changen up and down,
Joy after woe, and woe after gladness;
And shewed him example and likeness.
“Right as there diëd never man,” quoth he,
“That he ne liv’d in earth in some degree,823
Right so there lived never man,” he said,
“In all this world, that sometime be not died.
This world is but a throughfare full of woe,
And we be pilgrims,
