serve,

Infinite harmės been in this mateere,
We witen nat what thing we preyen hee
We faren as he that dronke is as a mos
A dronkė man woot wel he hath an ho
But he noot which the rightė wey is thid
And to a dronkė man the wey is slide: ;
And certes in this world so faren we,-
We seken faste after felicitee,

But we goon wrong ful often, trewěly.
Thus may we seyen alle, and namely
That wende and hadde a greet opinio
That if I myghte escapen from prisour
Thanne hadde I been in joye and pe at
heele,

I

I nam but deed, there nys no remedye Upon that oother sydė, Palamon, Whan that he wiste Arcité was agon, Swich sorwe he maketh that the grete to Resouned of his youlyng and clamour The pure fettres on his shynės grete Weren of his bittre, saltė teerės wete. I 'Allas!' quod he, Arcita, cosyn my Of al oure strif, God woot, the fruyt thyn;

Thow walkest now in Thebes at thy lar And of my wo thow yevest litel charge Thou mayst, syn thou hast wysdom a i manhede,

1399

greet miróur And saugh that chaunged was al his colour And saugh his visage al in another kynde; And right anon it ran hym in his mynde, That sith his face was so disfigured

Of maladye the which he hadde endured, He myghte wel, if that he bar hym lowe, Lyve in Atthénės evermore unknowe, And seen his lady wel ny day by day. And right anon he chaunged his array And cladde hym as a pouré laborer,

1374. Hereos, Eros, Love.

1376. Biforn, in his owene celle fantastik; in is from H only; owene from E2 only. According to medieval theory Mania was begotten in the front cell of the head which was appropriated to the imagination.

1387. yerde, Mercury's caduceus. 1389. he, E I.

1390. Argus, the hundred-eyed guardian of Io. Mercury lulled him with music and slew him.

For he was wys and koude soone espye
Of every servaunt which that serveth here.
Wel koude he hewen wode and water bere,
For he was yong, and myghty for the nones,
And therto he was long and big of bones,
To doon that any wight kan hym devyse.
A yeer or two he was in this servyse,
Page of the chambre of Emelye the brighte,
And Philostrate he seyde that he highte.
But half so wel biloved a man as he 1429
Ne was ther never in court of his degree;
He was so gentil of his condicioun
That thurghout al the court was his renoun.
They seyden that it were a charitee
That Theseus wolde enhauncen his degree,
And putten hym in worshipful servyse,
Ther as he myghte his vertu exercise.
And thus withinne a while his name is

spronge,

Bothe of his dedės and his goodė tonge,
That Theseus hath taken hym so neer,
That of his chambre he made hyma squiér,
And yaf him gold to mayntene his degree;
And eek men broghte hym out of his
contree,

From yeer to yeer, ful pryvėly, his rente;
But honestly and slyly he it spente
That noman wondred how that he it hadde.
And thre yeer in this wise his lif he ladde
And bar hym so in pees, and eek in werre,
Ther was no man that Theseus hath derre.
And in this blissé lete I now Arcite
And speke I wole of Palamon a lite. 1450

1424. long, EH3; Hengwrt, strong.

1428. Philostrate: in the Tescide Arcite takes the name of Pentheo. The name Philostrate was probably suggested to Chaucer by Boccaccio's poem Filostrato, the original of Troilus and Cressida.

In derknesse and horrible and strong prison

Thise seven yeer hath seten Palamon. Forpyned, what for wo and for distresse. Who feeleth double soor and hevynesse But Palamon? that love destreyneth so That wood out of his wit he goth for wo; And eek ther-to he is a prisoner Perpetuelly, noght only for a yer.

Who koudė ryme in Englyssh proprely His martirdom? for sothe it am nat I; Therfore I passe as lightly as I may. 1461

It fel that in the seventhe yer, in May, The thridde nyght, as oldė bookės seyn, That al this storie tellen moorė pleyn, Were it by aventure or destynee,— As whan a thyng is shapen it shal be,— That soone after the mydnyght, Palamoun, By helpyng of a freend brak his prisoun And fleeth the citee, faste as he may go, For he hade yeve his gayler drynkė so, Of a clarree, maad of a certeyn wyn, 1471 With nercotikes, and opie of Thebės fyn, That al that nyght, thogh that men wolde

him shake,

The bisy larkė, messager of day, Salueth in hir song the morwè gray, And firy Phebus riseth up so brighte That al the orient laugheth of the lighte, And with his stremės dryeth in the greves The silver dropės, hangynge on the leves. And Arcita, that is in the court roiál With Theseus, his squier principal, Is risen, and looketh on the myrie day; And for to doon his observaunce to May, Remembrynge on the poynt of his desir, He on a courser, stertyng as the fir, Is riden into the feeldés hym to pleye, Out of the court, were it a myle or tweye; And to the grove of which that I yow tolde, By aventure, his wey he gan to holde, To maken hym a gerland of the greves, Were it of wodebynde, or hawethorn leves, And loude he song ageyn the sonnė shene:

Máy, with alle thy floures and thy grene, Welcome be thou, faire, fresshė May, 1511 In hope that I som grenė getė may.' And from his courser with a lusty herte Into a grove ful hastily he sterte, And in a path he rometh up and doun, Ther as by áventure this Palamoun Was in a bussh, that no man myghte

Now up, now doun, as boket in a welle.
Right as the Friday, soothly for to telle,
Now it shyneth, now it reyneth faste,
Right so kan geery Venus overcaste
The hertes of hir folk; right as hir day
Is gereful, right so chaungeth she array,-
Selde is the Friday al the wowke y-like.
Whan that Arcite had songe, he gan
to sike,
And sette hym doun withouten any moore:
'Allas,' quod he, 'that day that I was
bore!

How longė, Juno, thurgh thy crueltee,
Woltow werreyen Thebes the citee?
Allas, y-broght is to confusioun

The

1540

blood roiál of Cadme and

Amphioun,

Of Cadmus, which that was the firstė man
That Thebes bulte, or first the toun bigan,
And of the citee first was crouned kyng.
Of his lynage am I, and his ofspryng 1550
By verray ligne, as of the stok roiál;
And now I am so caytyf and so thral,
That he that is my mortal enemy,
I serve hym as his squier pourėly.
And yet dooth Juno me wel moore shame,
For I dar noght biknowe myn owene name;
But ther as I was wont to highte Arcite,
Now highte I Philostrate, noght worth a

myte.

Allas, thou felle Mars! allas, Juno! 1559
Thus hath youre ire oure kynrede al fordo,
Save oonly me, and wrecched Palamoun,
That Theseus martireth in prisoun.
And over al this, to sleen me outrely,
Love hath his firy dart so brennyngly
Y-stiked thurgh my trewė, careful herte,
That shapen was my deeth erst than my
sherte.

Ye sleen me with youre eyen, Emelye!
Ye been the cause wherfore that I dye !
Of al the remenant of myn oother care
Ne sette I nat the montance of a tare,
So that I koude doon aught to youre
plesaunce.'

1571

This Palamoun, that thoughte that
thurgh his herte

He felte a coold swerd sodeynlichė glyde,
For ire he quook, no lenger wolde he byde.
And whan that he had herd Arcitės tale,
As he were wood, with face deed and pale,
He stirte hym up out of the buskės thikke,
And seide, 'Arcitė, false traytour wikke!
Now artow hent, that lovest my lady so,
For whom that I have al this peyne and wo,
And art my blood, and to my conseil sworn,
As I ful ofte have seyd thee heer-biforn,
And hast byjaped heere duc Theseus,
And falsly chaungéd hast thy name thus ;
I wol be deed, or ellės thou shalt dye;
Thou shalt nat love my lady Emelye,
But I wol love hire oonly, and namo;
For I am Palamon, thy mortal foo,
And though that I no wepene have in
this place,

1590

But out of prison am astert by grace,
I drede noght that outher thow shalt dye,
Or thow ne shalt nat loven Emelye.
Chees which thou wolt, for thou shalt
nat asterte !'

This Arcite, with ful despitous herte, Whan he hym knew, and hadde his talė herd,

As fiers as leoun pulled out his swerd, And seydė thus, By God that sit above, Nere it that thou art sik and wood for love, And eek that thow no wepne hast in this place,

1601

Thou sholdest never out of this grovė pace, That thou ne sholdest dyen of myn hond, For I defye the seurete and the bond Which that thou seist that I have maad