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Geoffrey Chaucer - The Canterbury Tales;The Knyghtes Tale
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     The fomy steedes on the golden brydel
     Gnawynge, and faste the armurers also
     With fyle and hamer prikynge to and fro;
     Yemen on foote and communes many oon,
     With shorte staves thikke as they may goon,
     
     Pypes, trompes, nakerers, clariounes,
     That in the bataille blowen blody sounes;
     The paleys ful of peples up and doun,
     Heere thre, ther ten, holdynge hir questioun,
     Dyvynynge of thise Thebane knyghtes two.
     
     Somme seyden thus, somme seyde it shal be so,
     Somme helden with hym with the blake berd,
     Somme with the balled, somme with the thikke-herd,
     Somme seyde he looked grymme, and he wolde fighte,
     He hath a sparth of twenty pound of wighte,
     
     Thus was the halle ful of divynynge
     Longe after that the sonne gan to sprynge.
        The grete Theseus, that of his sleep awaked
     With mynstralcie and noyse that was maked,
     Heeld yet the chambre of his paleys riche,
     
     Til that the Thebane knyghtes, bothe yliche
     Honured, were into the paleys fet.
     Due Theseus was at a wyndow set,
     Arrayed, right as he were a god in trone.
     The peple preesseth thiderward ful soone,
     
     Hym for to seen and doon heigh reverence.
     And eek to herkne his heste and his sentence.
     An heraud on a scaffold made an "Oo!"
     Til al the noyse of peple was ydo,
     And whan he saugh the peple of noyse al stille,
     
     Tho shewed he the myghty dukes wille.
     "The lord hath of his heigh discrecioun
     Considered, that it were destruccioun
     To gentil blood, to fighten in the gyse
     Of mortal bataille, now in this emprise;
     
     Wherfore, to shapen that they shal nat dye,
     He wolde his firste purpos modifye.
     No man therfore, up peyne of los of lyf,
     No maner shot, ne polax, ne short knyf
     Into the lystes sende, ne thider brynge.
     
     Ne short swerd for to stoke, with poynt bitynge,
     No man ne drawe, ne bere by his syde;
     Ne no man shal unto his felawe ryde
     But o cours, with a sharpe ygrounde spere.
     Foyne if hym list on foote, hym-self to were;
     
     And he that is at meschief shal be take,
     And noght slayn, but be broght unto the stake
     That shal ben ordeyned on either syde,
     But thider he shal by force, and there abyde.
     And if so be the chevetayn be take
     
     On outher syde, or elles sleen his make,
     No lenger shal the turneiynge laste.
     God spede you, gooth forth, and ley on faste!
     With long swerd and with maces fight youre fille;
     Gooth now youre wey, this is the lordes wille."
     
        The voys of peple touchede the hevene,
     So loude cride they with murie stevene,
     "God save swich a lord, that is so good
     He wilneth no destruccion of blood."
     Up goon the trompes and the melodye,
     
     And to the lystes rit the compaignye,
     By ordinance, thurgh-out the citee large
     Hanged with clooth of gold, and nat with sarge.
     Ful lik a lord this noble duc gan ryde,
     Thise two Thebanes upon either syde,
     
     And after rood the queene and Emelye,
     And after that another compaignye,
     Of oon and oother, after hir degre;
     And thus they passen thurgh-out the citee
     And to the lystes come they by tyme.
     
     It nas nat of the day yet fully pryme
     Whan set was Theseus ful riche and hye,
     Ypolita the queene, and Emelye,
     And othere ladys in degrees aboute.
     Unto the seettes preesseth al the route,
     
     And westward thurgh the gates under Marte,
     Arcite, and eek the hondred of his parte,
     With baner reed is entred right anon.
     And in that selve moment Palamon
     Is under Venus estward in the place,
     
     With baner whyt, and hardy chiere and face.
     In al the world to seken up and doun
     So evene withouten variacioun
     Ther nere swiche compaignyes tweye!
     For ther was noon so wys, that koude seye
     
     That any hadde of oother avauntage,
     Of worthynesse ne of estaat ne age,
     So evene were they chosen, for to gesse.
     And in two renges faire they hem dresse,
     Whan that hir names rad were everichon,
     
     That in hir nombre gyle were ther noon.
     Tho were the gates shet and cried was loude,
     "Do now youre devoir, yonge knyghtes proude!"
     The heraudes lefte hir prikyng up and doun;
     Now ryngen trompes loude and clarioun.
     
     Ther is namoore to seyn, but west and est
     In goon the speres ful sadly in arrest,
     In gooth the sharpe spore into the syde.
     Ther seen men who kan juste, and who kan ryde,
     Ther shyveren shaftes upon sheeldes thikke;
     
     He feeleth thurgh the herte-spoon the prikke.
     Up spryngen speres twenty foot on highte;
     Out gooth the swerdes as the silver brighte.
     The helmes they tohewen and toshrede,
     Out brest the blood, with stierne stremes rede,
     
     With myghty maces the bones they tobreste.
     He thurgh the thikkeste of the throng gan threste;
     Ther stomblen steedes stronge, and doun gooth al;
     He rolleth under foot as dooth a bal,
     He foyneth on his feet with his tronchoun,
     
     And he hym hurtleth with his hors adoun.
     He thurgh the body is hurt and sithen ytake,
     Maugree his heed, and broght unto the stake,
     As forward was, right there he moste abyde;
     Another lad is on that oother syde.
     
     And som tyme dooth hem Theseus to reste,
     Hem to refresshe, and drynken if hem leste.
     Ful ofte a day han thise Thebanes two
     Togydre ymet, and wroght his felawe wo.
     Unhorsed hath ech oother of hem tweye,
     
     
     Ther nas no tygre in the vlae of Galgopheye
     Whan that hir whelp is stole, whan it is lite,
     So crueel on the hunte, as is Arcite
     For jelous herte upon this Palamoun;
     Ne in Belmarye ther nys so fel leoun
     
     That hunted is, or for his hunger wood,
     Ne of his praye desireth so the blood,
     As Palamoun to sleen his foo Arcite.
     The jelous strokes on hir helmes byte,
     Out renneth blood on bothe hir sydes rede.
     
        Som tyme an ende ther is of every dede;
     For er the sonne unto the reste wente,
     The stronge kyng Emetreus gan hente
     This Palamon, as he faught with Arcite,
     And made his swerd depe in his flessh to byte.
     
     And by the force of twenty is he take
     Unyolden, and ydrawe unto the stake.
     And in the rescous of this Palamoun
     The stronge kyng Lygurge is born adoun,
     And kyng Emetreus, for al his strengthe,
     
     Is born out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe,
     So hitte him Palamoun er he were take;
     But al for noght, he was broght to the stake.
     His hardy herte myghte hym helpe naught,
     He moste abyde, whan that he was caught,
     
     By force, and eek by composicioun.
     Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun,
     That moot namoore goon agayn to fighte?
     And whan that Theseus hadde seyn this sighte
     Unto the folk that foghten thus echon
     
     He cryde, "Hoo! namoore, for it is doon.
     I wol be trewe juge, and no partie;
     Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelie,
     That by his fortune hath hir faire ywonne!"
     Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne
     
     For joye of this so loude and heighe withalle
     It semed that the lystes sholde falle.
        What kan now faire Venus doon above?
     What seith she now, what dooth this queene of Love,
     But wepeth so, for wantynge of hir wille,
     
     Til that hir teeres in the lystes fille.
     She seyde, "I am ashamed, doutelees."
     Saturnus seyde, "Doghter, hoold thy pees,
     Mars hath his wille, his knyght hath al his boone,
     And, by myn heed, thow shalt been esed soone."
     
        The trompes with the loude mynstralcie,
     The heraudes that ful loude yolle and crie,
     Been in hir wele for joye of Daun Arcite.
     But herkneth me, and stynteth now a lite,
     Which a myracle ther bifel anon.
     
     This fierse Arcite hath of his helm ydon,
     And on a courser for to shewe his face
     He priketh endelong the large place,
     Lokynge upward upon this Emelye,
     And she agayn hym caste a freendlich eye,
     
     (For wommen, as to speken in commune,
     They folwen al the favour of Fortune)
     And she was al his chiere, as in his herte.
     Out of the ground a furie infernal sterte,
     From Pluto sent, at requeste of Saturne,
     
     For which his hors for fere gan to turne,
     And leep aside and foundred as he leep.
     And er that Arcite may taken keep,
     He pighte hym on the pomel of his heed,
     That in the place he lay as he were deed,
     
     His brest tobrosten with his sadel-bowe.
     As blak he lay as any cole or crowe,
     So was the blood yronnen in his face.
     Anon he was yborn out of the place,
     With herte soor, to Theseus paleys.
     
     Tho was he korven out of his harneys,
     And in a bed ybrought ful faire and blyve,
     For he was yet in memorie and alyve,
     And alwey criynge after Emelye.
     Duc Theseus, with al hes compaignye,
     
     Is comen hoom to Atthenes his citee,
     With alle blisse and greet solempnitee;
     Al be it that this aventure was falle,
     He nolde noght disconforten hem alle.
     Men seyde eek that Arcite shal nat dye,
     
     He shal been heeled of his maladye.
     And of another thyng they weren as fayn,
     That of hem alle was ther noon yslayn,
     Al were they soore yhurt, and namely oon,
     That with a spere was thirled his brest-boon.
     
     To othere woundes, and to broken armes,
     Somme hadden salves, and somme hadden charmes,
     Fermacies of herbes and eek save
     They dronken, for they wolde hir lymes have.
     For which this noble duc as he wel kan,
     
     Conforteth and honoureth every man,
     And made revel al the longe nyght
     Unto the straunge lordes, as was right.
     Ne ther was holden no disconfitynge
     But as a justes or a tourneiynge,
     
     For soothly ther was no disconfiture-
     For fallyng nys nat but an aventure-
     Ne to be lad by force unto the stake
     Unyolden, and with twenty knyghtes take,
     O persone allone, withouten mo,
     
     And haryed forth by arme, foot, and too,
     And eke his steede dryven forth with staves,
     With footmen, bothe yemen and eek knaves,
     It nas aretted hym no vileynye,
     Ther may no man clepen it cowardye.
     
     For which anon duc Theseus leet crye,
     To stynten alle rancour and envye,
     The gree, as wel of o syde as of oother,
     And eyther syde ylik as ootheres brother,
     And yaf hem yiftes after hir degree,
     
     And fully heeld a feeste dayes three,
     And convoyed the kynges worthily
     Out of his toun a journee, largely;
     And hoom wente every man, the righte way,
     Ther was namoore but `fare-wel, have good day.`
     
     Of this bataille I wol namoore endite,
     But speke of Palamoun and of Arcite.
        Swelleth the brest of Arcite, and the soore
     Encreesseth at his herte moore and moore.
     The clothered blood for any lechecraft
     
     Corrupteth, and is in his bouk ylaft,
     That neither veyne-blood, ne ventusynge,
     Ne drynke of herbes may ben his helpynge.
     The vertu expulsif, or animal,
     Fro thilke vertu cleped natural
     
     Ne may the venym voyden, ne expelle.
     The pipes of his longes gonne to swelle,
     And every lacerte in his brest adoun
     Is shent with venym and corrupcioun.
     Hym gayneth neither for to gete his lif
     
     Vomyt upward, ne dounward laxatif;
     Al is tobrosten thilke regioun,
     Nature hath now no dominacioun.
     And certeinly, ther Nature wol nat wirche,
     Fare-wel phisik, go ber the man to chirche!
     
     This al and som, that Arcita moot dye;
     For which he sendeth after Emelye
     And Palamon, that was his cosyn deere.
     Thanne seyde he thus, as ye shal after heere:
     "Naught may the woful spirit in myn herte
     
     Declare o point of alle my sorwes smerte
     To yow, my lady, that I love moost.
     But I biquethe the servyce of my goost
     To yow aboven every creature.
     Syn that my lyf may no lenger dure,
     
     Allas, the wo! allas, the peynes stronge
     That I for yow have suffred, and so longe!
     Allas, the deeth! allas, myn Emelye!
     Allas, departynge of our compaignye!
     Allas, myn hertes queene! allas, my wyf!
     
     Myn hertes lady, endere of my lyf!
     What is this world? what asketh men to have?
     Now with his love, now in his colde grave,
     Allone, withouten any compaignye.
     Fare-wel, my swete foo, myn Emelye,
     
     And softe taak me in youre armes tweye,
     For love of God, and herkneth what I seye.
        "I have heer with my cosyn Palamon
     Had strif and rancour many a day agon,
     For love of yow, and for my jalousye.
     
     And Juppiter so wys my soule gye
     To speken of a servaunt proprely,
     With alle circumstances trewely,
     That is to seyn, trouthe, honour, and knyghthede,
     Wysdom, humblesse, estaat, and heigh kynrede,
     
     Fredom, and al that longeth to that art,
     So Juppiter have of my soule part
     As in this world right now ne knowe I non
     So worthy to ben loved, as Palamon
     That serveth yow, and wol doon al his lyf;
     
     And if that evere ye shul ben a wyf,
     Foryet nat Palamon, the gentil man."
     And with that word his speche faille gan,
     And from his herte up to his brest was come
     The coold of deeth, that hadde hym overcome.
     
     And yet moreover in hise armes two
     The vital strengthe is lost and al ago.
     Oonly the intellect, withouten moore,
     That dwelled in his herte syk and soore
     Gan faillen, when the herte felte deeth.
     
     Dusked hise eyen two, and failled breeth,
     But on his lady yet caste he his eye.
     His laste word was "mercy, Emelye!"
     His spirit chaunged hous, and wente ther
     As I cam nevere, I kan nat tellen wher,
     
     Therfore I stynte; I nam no divinistre,
     Of soules fynde I nat in this registre,
     Ne me ne list thilke opinions to telle
     Of hem, though that they writen wher they dwelle.
     Arcite is coold, ther Mars his soule gye:
     
     Now wol I speken forthe of Emelye.
        Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon,
     And Theseus his suster took anon
     Swownynge, and baar hir fro the corps away.
     What helpeth it to tarien forth the day
     
     To tellen how she weep bothe eve and morwe?
     For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe
     Whan that hir housbond is from hem ago,
     That for the moore part they sorwen so,
     Or ellis fallen in swich maladye,
     
     That at the laste certeinly they dye.
     Infinite been the sorwes and the teeres
     Of olde folk, and eek of tendre yeeres
     In al the toun, for deeth of this Theban.
     For hym ther wepeth bothe child and man;
     
     So greet a wepyng was ther noon, certayn,
     Whan Ector was ybroght al fressh yslayn
     To Troye, allas, the pitee that was ther!
     Cracchynge of chekes, rentynge eek of heer;
     "Why soldestow be deed," thise wommen crye,
     
     "And haddest gold ynough, and Emelye?"
     No man myghte gladen Theseus,
     Savynge his olde fader, Egeus,
     That knew this worldes transmutacioun,
     As he hadde seyn it chaungen up and doun,
     
     Joye after wo, and wo after gladnesse,
     And shewed hem ensamples and liknesse.
        "Right as ther dyed nevere man," quod he,
     "That he ne lyvede in erthe in som degree,
     Right so ther lyvede never man," he seyde,
     
     "In al this world that somtyme he ne deyde.
     This world nys but a thurghfare ful of wo,
     And we been pilgrymes passynge to and fro.
     Deeth is an ende of every worldes soore."
     And over al this yet seyde he muchel moore,
     
     To this effect ful wisely to enhorte
     The peple, that they sholde hem reconforte.
        Duc Theseus, with al his bisy cure,
     Caste now, wher that the sepulture
     Of goode Arcite may best ymaked be,
     
     And eek moost honurable in his degree.
     And at the laste he took conclusioun
     That ther as first Arcite and Palamoun
     Hadden for love the bataille hem bitwene,
     That in that selve grove swoote and grene
     
     Ther as he hadde hise amorouse desires,
     His compleynte, and for love hise hoote fires
     He wolde make a fyr, in which the office
     Funeral he myghte al accomplice;
     And leet comande anon to hakke and hewe
     
     The okes olde, and leye hem on a rewe
     In colpons, wel arrayed for to brenne.
     Hise officers with swifte feet they renne
     And ryden anon at his comandement;
     And after this Theseus hath ysent
     
     After a beere, and it al over-spradde
     With clooth of gold, the richeste that he hadde.
     And of the same suyte he cladde Arcite,
     Upon his hondes hadde he gloves white,
     EEk on his heed a coroune of laurer grene,
     
     And in his hond a swerd ful bright and kene.
     He leyde hym bare the visage on the beere,
     Ther-with he weep that pitee was to heere.
     And for the peple sholde seen hym alle,
     Whan it was day, he broghte hym to the halle,
     
     That roreth of the criyng and the soun.
     Tho cam this woful Theban, Palamoun,
     With flotery berd and rugged asshy heeres,
     In clothes blake, ydropped al with teeres,
     And passynge othere of wepynge Emelye,
     
     The rewefulleste of al the compaignye.
     In as muche as the servyce sholde be
     The moore noble and riche in his degree,
     Duc Theseus leet forth thre steedes brynge
     That trapped were in steel al gliterynge,
     
     And covered with the armes of daun Arcite.
     Upon thise steedes that weren grete and white
     Ther sitten folk, of whiche oon baar his sheeld,
     Another his spere up in his hondes heeld,
     The thridde baar with hym his bowe Turkeys,
     
     Of brend gold was the caas, and eek the harneys;
     And riden forth a paas, with sorweful cheere,
     Toward the grove, as ye shul after heere.
     The nobleste of the Grekes that ther were
     Upon hir shuldres caryeden the beere,
     
     With slakke paas, and eyen rede and wete,
     Thurghout the citee by the maister-strete,
     That sprad was al with blak, and wonder hye
     Right of the same is the strete ywrye.
     Upon the right hond wente olde Egeus,
     
     And on that oother syde duc Theseus,
     With vessel in hir hand of gold ful fyn,
     Al ful of hony, milk, and blood, and wyn.
     Eek Palamon, with ful greet compaignye,
     And after that cam woful Emelye,
     
     With fyr in honde, as was that tyme the gyse,
     To do the office of funeral servyse.
         Heigh labour, and ful greet apparaillynge,
     Was at the service and the fyr makynge,
     That with his grene top the heven raughte,
     
     And twenty fadme of brede the armes straughte;
     This is to seyn, the bowes weren so brode.
     Of stree first ther was leyd ful many a lode,
     But how the fyr was maked upon highte,
     Ne eek the names that the trees highte,
     
     As, ook, firre, birch, aspe, alder, holm, popeler,
     Wylugh, elm, plane, assh, box, chasteyn, lynde, laurer,
     Mapul, thorn, bech, hasel, ew, whippeltre,
     How they weren fild shal nat be toold for me,
     Ne how the goddes ronnen up and doun
     
     Disherited of hir habitacioun,
     In whiche they woneden in reste and pees,
     Nymphes, Fawnes, and Amadrides;
     Ne how the beestes and the briddes alle
     Fledden for fere, whan the wode was falle;
     
     Ne how the ground agast was of the light,
     That was nat wont to seen the sonne bright;
     Ne how the fyr was couched first with stree,
     And thanne with drye stokkes clovena thre,
     And thanne with grene wode and spicerye,
     
     And thanne with clooth of gold and with perrye,
     And gerlandes hangynge with ful many a flour,
     The mirre, thencens, with al so greet odour;
     Ne how Arcite lay among al this,
     Ne what richesse aboute his body is,
     
     Ne how that Emelye, as was the gyse,
     Putte in the fyr of funeral servyse;
     Ne how she swowned whan men made the fyr,
     Ne what she spak, ne what was hir desir,
     Ne what jeweles men in the fyr caste,
     
     Whan that the fyr was greet and brente faste;
     Ne how somme caste hir sheeld, and somme hir spere,
     And of hire vestimentz whiche that they were,
     And coppes full of wyn, and milk, and blood,
     Into the fyr, that brente as it were wood,
     
     Ne how the Grekes, with an huge route,
     Thryes riden al the place aboute,
     Upon the left hand with a loud shoutynge,
     And thries with hir speres claterynge,
     And thries how the ladyes gonne crye,
     
     And how that lad was homward Emelye;
     Ne how Arcite is brent to asshen colde,
     Ne how that lychewake was yholde
     Al thilke nyght, ne how the Grekes pleye
     The wakepleyes ne kepe I nat to seye,
     
     Who wrastleth best naked, with oille enoynt,
     Ne who that baar hym best in no disjoynt;
     I wol nat tellen eek, how that they goon
     Hoom til Atthenes, whan the pley is doon;
     But shortly to the point thanne wol I wende,
     
     And maken of my longe tale an ende.
        By processe, and by lengthe of certeyn yeres,
     Al stynted is the moornynge and the teres
     Of Grekes, by oon general assent.
     Thanne semed me ther was a parlement
     
     
     At Atthenes, upon certein pointz and caas,
     Among the whiche pointz yspoken was 
     To have with certein contrees alliaunce,
     And have fully of Thebans obeisaunce,
     For which this noble Theseus anon
     
     Leet senden after gentil Palamon,
     Unwist of hym what was the cause and why.
     But in hise blake clothes sorwefully
     He cam at his comandement in hye;
     Tho sente Theseus for Emelye.
     
     Whan they were set, and hust was al the place,
     And Theseus abiden hadde a space
     Er any word cam fram his wise brest,
     Hise eyen sette he ther as was his lest,
     And with a sad visage he siked stille,
     
     And after that right thus he seyde his wille.
        "The firste moevere of the cause above
     Whan he first made the faire cheyne of love,
     Greet was theffect, and heigh was his entente;
     Wel wiste he, why, and what therof he mente,
     
     For with that faire cheyne of love he bond
     The fyr, the eyr, the water, and the lond,
     In certeyn boundes that they may nat flee.
     That same prince and that same moevere," quod he,
     "Hath stablissed in this wrecched world adoun
     
     Certeyne dayes and duracioun
     To al that is engendred in this place,
     Over the whiche day they may nat pace;
     Al mowe they yet tho dayes wel abregge,
     Ther nedeth noght noon auctoritee allegge,
     
     For it is preeved by experience-
     But that me list declaren my sentence.
     Thanne may men by this ordre wel discerne
     That thilke moevere stable is and eterne.
     Wel may men knowe, but it be a fool,
     
     That every part deryveth from his hool;
     For nature hath nat taken his bigynnyng
     Of no partie nor cantel of a thyng,
     But of a thyng that parfit is and stable,
     Descendynge so til it be corrumpable;
     
     And therfore, of his wise purveiaunce,
     He hath so wel biset his ordinaunce,
     That speces of thynges and progressiouns
     Shullen enduren by successiouns,
     And nat eterne, withouten any lye.
     
     This maystow understonde and seen at eye.
     Lo the ook, that hath so long a norisshynge
     From tyme that it first bigynneth sprynge,
     And hath so long a lif, as we may see,
     Yet at the laste wasted is the tree.
     
     Considereth eek, how that the harde stoon
     Under oure feet, on which we trede and goon,
     Yit wasteth it, as it lyth by the weye.
     The brode ryver somtyme wexeth dreye,
     The grete toures se we wane and wende,
     
     Thanne may ye se that al this thyng hath ende.
     Of man and womman seen we wel also,
     That nedeth, in oon of thise termes two,
     This is to seyn, in youthe or elles age,
     He moot be deed, the kyng as shal a page.
     
     Som in his bed, som in the depe see,
     Som in the large feeld, as men may se;
     Ther helpeth noght, al goth that ilke weye,
     Thanne may I seyn that al this thyng moot deye.
     What maketh this, but Juppiter the kyng,
     
     That is prince and cause of alle thyng
     Convertyng al unto his propre welle
     From which it is deryved, sooth to telle,
     And heer agayns no creature on lyve
     Of no degree availleth for to stryve.
     
     Thanne is it wysdom, as it thynketh me,
     To maken vertu of necessitee,
     And take it weel, that we may nat eschue;
     And namely, that to us alle is due.
     And who so gruccheth ought, he dooth folye,
     
     And rebel is to hym that al may gye.
     And certeinly, a man hath moost honour
     To dyen in his excellence and flour,
     Whan he is siker of his goode name,
     Thanne hath he doon his freend ne hym no shame.
     
     And galdder oghte his freend been of his deeth,
     Whan with honour upyolden in his breeth,
     Than whan his name apalled is for age;
     For al forgeten is his vassellage.
     Thanne is it best as for a worthy fame,
     
     To dyen whan that he is best of name.
     The contrarie of al this is wilfulnesse:
     Why grucchen heere his cosyn and his wyf
     That goode Arcite, of chivalrie flour,
     Departed is with duetee and honour
     
     Out of this foule prisoun of this lyf?
     Why grucchen heere his cosyn and his wyf
     Of his welfare, that loved hem so weel?
     Kan he hem thank?  Nay, God woot never a deel!
     That bothe his soule and eek hemself offende,
     
     And yet they mowe hir lustes nat amende.
        What may I concluden of this longe serye,
     But after wo I rede us to be merye,
     And thanken Juppiter of al his grace?
     And er that we departen from this place
     
     I rede that we make, of sorwes two,
     O parfit joye lastyng everemo.
     And looketh now, wher moost sorwe is her inne,
     Ther wol we first amenden and bigynne.
        "Suster," quod he, "this is my fulle assent,
     
     With all thavys heere of my parlement,
     That gentil Palamon thyn owene kynght,
     That serveth yow with wille, herte, and myght,
     And evere hath doon, syn that ye first hym knewe,
     That ye shul of your grace upon hym rewe,
     
     And taken hym for housbonde and for lord.
     Lene me youre hond, for this is oure accord.
     Lat se now of youre wommanly pitee;
     He is a kynges brother sone, pardee,
     And though he were a povre bacheler,
     
     Syn he hath served yow so many a yeer,
     And had for yow so greet adversitee,
     It moste been considered, leeveth me,
     For gentil mercy oghte to passen right."
     Thanne seyde he thus to Palamon ful right:
     
     "I trowe ther nedeth litel sermonyng
     To make yow assente to this thyng.
     Com neer, and taak youre lady by the hond."
        Bitwixen hem was maad anon the bond
     That highte matrimoigne, or mariage,
     
     By al the conseil and the baronage.
     And thus with alle blisse and melodye
     Hath Palamon ywedded Emelye;
     And God, that al this wyde world hath wroght,
     Sende hym his love that hath it deere aboght!
     
     For now is Palamon in alle wele,
     Lyvynge in blisse, in richesse, and in heele,
     And Emelye hym loveth so tendrely,
     And he hir serveth al so gentilly,
     That nevere was ther no word hem bitwene,
     
     Of jalousie, or any oother teene.
     Thus endeth Palamon and Emelye,
     And God save al this faire compaignye!-Amen-
     
     Heere is ended the knyghtes tale.
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