า

How Creon was of Thefeus yferved,
As he that hath his deth ful wel deferved.
And right anon, withouten more abode,
His banner he difplaide, and forth he rode
Fo Thebes ward, and all his hoft befide:
No ner Athenes n'olde he go ne ride,
Ne take his efe fully half a day,

But onward on his way that night he lay,
And fent anon Ipolita the quene,
And Emelie hire younge fifter thene,
Unto the toun of Athenes for to dwell;
And forth he rit; ther n'is no more to tell.

The red ftatue of Mars, with fpere and targe,
So fhineth in his white banner large,
That all the feldes gliteren up and doun;
And by his banner borne is his penon

Of gold ful riche, in which that ther was ybete
The Minotaure which that he flew in Crete.
Thus rit this duk, thus rit this conquerour,
And in his hoft of chevalrie the flour,
Til that he came to Thebes, and alight
Fayre in a feld, ther as he thought to fight.
But shortly for to fpeken of this thing,
With Creon, which that was of Thebes king
He fought, and flew him manly as a knight
In plaine bataille, and put his folk to flight;
And by affaut he wan the citee after,
And rent adoun bothe wall, and sparre, and rafter;
And to the ladies he restored again

The bodies of hir houfbondes that were flain,
To don the obfequies, as was tho the gife.
But it were all to long for to devise
The grete clamour and the wäimenting
Whiche that the ladies made at the brenning
Of the bodies, and the gret honour
That Thefeus, the noble conquerour,
Doth to the ladies whan they from him wente;
But fhortly for to telle is min entente.

Whan that this worthy duk, this Thefeus,
Hath Creon flain and wonnen Thebes thus,
Still in the feld he toke all night his refte;
And did with all the countree as him lefte:
To ranfake in the tas of bodies dede,
Hem for to stripe of harneis and of wede,
The pillours dide hir befineffe and cure,
After the bataille and discomfiture;
And fo befell that in the tas they found,
Thurgh girt with many a grevous blody wound,
Two yonge knightes ligging by and by,
Bothe in on armes wrought ful richely;
Of whiche two Arcita highte that on,
And he that other highte Palamon.
Not fully quik ne fully ded they were,
But by hir cote armure and by hir gere
The heraudes knew him wel in fpecial,
As tho that weren of the blod real
Of Thebes and of fuftren two yborne.
Out of the tas the pillours han hem torne,
And han hem carried foft unto the tente
Of Thefeus, and he ful fone hem fente
To Athenes, for to dwellen in prifon
Perpetuel, he n'olde no raunfon.
And whan this worthy duk had thus ydon,
He toke his hoft, and home he rit anon,

With laurel crouned as a conquerour,
And ther he liveth in joye and in honour
Terme of his lif; what nedeth wordes mo?
And in a tour in anguish and in wo
Dwellen this Palamon and eke Arcite
For evermo, ther may no gold hem quite,
Thus paffeth yere by yere, and day by day,
Till it fell ones in a morwe of May
That Emelie, that fayrer was to fene
Than is the lilie upon his ftalke grene,
And fresher than the May with floures new,
(For with the rose colour strof hire hewe;
I n'ot which was the finer of hem two)
Er it was day, as fhe was wont to do,
She was arifen, and all redy dight,
For May wol have no flogardie a night;,
The fefon priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his flepe to fterte,
And fayth, Arife, and do thin obfervance,

This maketh Emelie han remembrance
To don honour to May, and for to rife;
Yclothed was fhe fresfhe for to devife,
Hire yelwe here was broided in a treffe
Behind hire back, a yerde long I geffe;
And in the gardin at the fonne uprist
She walketh up and doun wher as hire lift:
She gathereth floures, partie white and red,
To make a fotel gerlond for hire hed;
And as an angel hevenlich fhe fong.
The grete tour that was fo thikke and strong,
Which of the caftel was the chef dongeon,
(Wher as thefe knightes weren in prifon,
Of which I tolde you, and tellen fhal)
Was even joinant to the gardin wall,
Ther as this Emelie had hire playing.

[ing

Bright was the fonne and clere that morwenAnd Palamon, this woful prifoner,

As was his wone, by leve of his gayler
Was rifen, and romed in a chambre on high,

In which he all the noble citee figh,
And eke the gardin, ful of branches grene,
Ther as this fresfhe Emelia the fhene
Was in hire walk, and romed up and doun.

This forweful prifoner, this Palamon,
Goth in his chambre roming to and fro,
And to himfelfe complaining of his wo:
That he was borne ful oft he fayd Alas!
And fo befell, by aventure or cas,
That thurgh a window thikke of many a barre
Of yren gret, and fquare as any sparre,
He caft his eyen upon Emelia,

And therwithal he blent * and cried A!
As though he ongen were unto the herte:
Zad with that crie Arcite anon up fterte,
And faide, Cofin min, what eyleth thee
That art fo pale and dedly for to see ?
Why crideft thou? who hath thee don offence?
For Goddes love take all in patience

This word has various fenfes in Chaucer, as it is derived from blinnan, ceffare; blindan, cecare; or blendan, mifcere. It feeins here to be ufcd in a fourth fenfe, the fame in which Shakespeare ufes the verb to blench, i. e. to thrink or ftart afide. Jobafon's Dia, in v, Blench. Sec Glo in v. Blent, part. of Blend,

Our prifon, for it may non other be;
Fortune hath yeven us this adverfite:
Som wikke afpect or difpofition
Of Saturne, by fom constellation,
Hath yeven us this, although we had it fworn:
So ftood the heven whan that we were born:
We mofte endure; this is the short and plain.
This Palamon anfwerde, and fayde again,
Cofin, forfoth of this opinion
Thou haft a vaine imagination:
This prifon caused me not for to crie,

But I was hurt right now thurghout min eye
Into min herte, that wol my bane be:
The fayrneffe of a lady that I fe
Yond in the gardin roming to and fro
Is caufe of all my crying and my wo:
I n'ot whe'r the be woman or goddesse,
But Venus is it fothly as I geffe.

And therwithall on knees adoun he fill
And fayde; Venus, if it be your will
You in this gardin thus to transfigure,
Beforn me forweful wretched creature,
Out of this prifon helpe that we may scape;
And if fo be our deftine be shape
By eterne word to dien in prifon,.
Of our lignage have fome compassion,
That is fo low ybrought by tyrannie.

And with that word Arcita gan efpie
Wher as this lady romed to and fro,
And with that fight hire beaute hurt him fo,
That if that Palamon were wounded fore
Arcite is hurt as moche as he or more:
And with a figh he fayde pitously,
The fresshe beaute fleth me fodenly
Of hire that rometh in the yonder place;
And but I have hire mercie and hire grace,
That I may fcen hire at the lefte way,
I n'am but ded; ther n'is no more to fay.

This Palamon, whan he thefe wordes herd, Difpitoufly he loked, and anfwerd, Whether fayeft thou this in erneft or in play?

Nay, quod Arcite, in ernest by my fay;
God helpe me fo, me luft full yvel play.

This Palamon gan knit his browes twey.
It were, quod he, to thee no gret honour
For to be falfe, ne for to be traytour
To me, that am thy cofin and thy brother
Yfworne ful depe, and eche of us to other,
That never for to dien in the peine
Til that the deth departen fhal us tweine,
Neyther of us in love to hindre other,
Ne in non other cas, my leve brother;
But that thou fhuldest trewely forther me
In every cas as I fhuld forther thee.
This was thin oth, and min alfo certain;
I wot it wel thou darft it not withfain :
Thus art thou of my confeil out of doute,
And now thou woldest falfly ben aboute
To love my lady whom I love and ferve,
And ever fhal til that min herte fterve.

Now certes, false Arcite, thou shalt not fo:
I loved hire firfte, and tolde thee my wo.
As to my confeil, and my brother fweine
To forther me as I have told beforne,

For which thou art ybounden as a knight
To helpen me, if it lie in thy might,
Or elles art thou falfe I dare wel fain.

This Arcita full proudly fpake again.
Thou fhalt, quod he, be rather falfe than I,
And thou art falfe, I tell thee utterly;
For par amour I loved hire first or thou.
What wolt thou sayn? thou wistest nat right now
Whether the were a woman or a goddesse :
Thin is affection of holineffe,
And min is love as to a creature,
For which I tolde thee min aventure,
As to my cofin and my brother fworne.

I pofe that thou lovedeft hire beforne:
Woft thou not wel the olde clerkes fawe †,
That who fhall give a lover any lawe?
Love is a greter lawe by my pan
Then may be yeven of any erthly man ;
And therfore pofitif lawe and swiche decree
Is broken all day for love in eche degree.
A man mofte nedes love maugre his hed;
He may not fleen it though he fhuld be ded,
All be she maid, or widewe, or elles wif.
And eke it is not likely all thy lif
To ftonden in hire grace, no more shal I;
For wel thou woft thy felven veraily
That thou and I be damned to prison
Perpetuel; us gaineth no raunfon.

We strive as did the houndes for the bone,
They fought all day, and yet hir part was none:
Ther came a kyte, while that they were fo wrothe,
And bare away the bone betwix hem bothe.
And therfore at the kinges court, my brother,

Eche man for himself, ther is non other.
Love if thee luft, for I love, and ay fhal;

And fothly, leve brother, this is al.

Here in this prifon moften we endure,
And everich of us take his aventure.

Gret was the ftrif, and long betwix him twey,

If that I hadde leifer for to fey:
But to th' effect. It happed on a day,
(To tell it you as fhortly as I may)
A worthy duk that highte Perithous,
That felaw was to this duk Thefeus
Sin thilke day that they were children lite,
Was come to Athenes his felaw to visite,
And for to play as he was wont to do,
For in this world he loved no man so,
And he loved him as tendrely again:
So wel they loved, as olde bokes fain,
That whan that on was dede, fothly to tell,
His felaw wente and fought him doun in hell
But of that ftorie lift me not to write.

Duk Perithous loved wel Arcite,
And had him knowe at Thebes yere by yere :
And finally, at requeft and praiere
Of Perithous, withouten any raunfon,
Duk Thefeus him let out of prison,

Frely to gon wher that him lift over all,
In fwiche a gife as I you tellen fhall.

This was the forword, plainly for to endite,
Betwixen Thefeus and him Arcite;
That if fo were that Arcite were yfound
Ever in his lif, by day or night, o ftound
In any countree of this Thefeus,

And he were caught, it was accorded thus,
That with a swerd he fhulde lefe his hed;
Ther was non other remedie ne rede;
But taketh his leve, and homeward he him fpedde:
Let him beware, his nekke lieth to wedde.

How gret a forwe fuffereth now Arcite ? 'The deth he feleth thurgh his herte smite He wepeth, waileth, crieth pitously, To fleen himself he waiteth prively. He said, Alas the day that I was borne! Now is my prifon werfe than beforne; Now is me fhape eternally to dwelle Not only in purgatorie but in helle. Alas! that ever I knew Perithous, For elles had I dwelt with Thefeus, Yfetered in his prifon evermo; Than had I ben in bliffe and not in wo: Only the fight of hire whom that I serve, Though that I never hire grace may deserve, Wold have fufficed right ynough for me.

O dere cofin Palamon, quod he, Thin is the victorie of this aventure; Ful blisful in prifon maieft thou endure: In prifon? certes nay, but in paradise. Wel hath Fortune yturned thee the dife, That haft the fight of hire and I th' absence. For poffible is, fin thou haft hire prefence, And art a knight, a worthy and an able, That by fome cas, fin Fortune is changeable, Thou maieft to thy defir fomtime atteine: But that I am exiled, and barreine Of alle grace, and in fo gret defpaire, That ther n'is erthe, water, fire, ne aire, Ne creature, that of hem maked is, That may me hele or don comfort in this, Wel ought I fterve in wanhope and diftreffe. Farewel my lif, my luft, and my gladneffe.

Alas! why plainen men fo in commune
Of purveiance of God or of Fortune,
That yeveth hem ful oft in many a gife
Wel better than they can hemfelf devise?
Som man defireth for to have richesse,
That caufe is of his murdre or gret fikneffe;
And fom man wold out of his prifon fayn,
That in his houfe is of his meynie flain.
Infinite harmes ben in this matere :

We wote not what thing that we praien here.
We faren as he that dronke is as a mous:
A dronken man wot wel he hath an hous,
But he ne wot which is the right way thider,
And to a dronken man the way is flider,
And certes in this world fo faren we.
We fcken faft after felicite,
But we go wrong ful often trewely.
Thus we may fayen alle, and namely I,
That wende, and had a gret opinion,
That if I might efcapen fro prifon

Than I had ben in joye and parfite hele,
Ther now I am exiled fro my wele.
Sin that I may not feen you Emelie
I n'am but ded; ther n'is no remedie.
Upon that other fide Palamon,

Whan that he wift Arcita was agon,
Swiche forwe he maketh, that the grete tour
Refouned of his yelling and clamour.
The pure fetters on his shinnes grete
Were of his bitter falte teres wete.

Alas! quod he, Arcita, cofin min,
Of all our ftrif, God wot, the frute is thin.
Thou walkest now in Thebes at thy large,
And of my wo thou yeveft litel charge.
Thou maift, fith thou haft wisdom and manhede,
Affemblen all the folk of our kinrede,
And make a werre so sharpe on this contrée,

That by fom aventure or fom tretee

Thou maist have hire to lady and to wif
For whom that I must nedes lefe my lif.
For as by way of poffibilitee,

Sith thou art at thy large of prifon free,
And art a lord, gret is thin avantage,
More than is min, that fterve here in a cage:
For I may wepe and waile while that I live,
With all the wo that prifon may me yeve,
And cke with peine that love me yeveth also,
That doubleth all my tourment and my wo.

Therwith the fire of jaloufie up fterte
Within his breft, and hent him by the herte
So woodly, that he like was to behold
The box-tree, or the afhen ded and cold.
Then faid he ; O cruel Goddes! that governe
This world with binding of your word eterne,
And writen in the table of athamant
Your parlement and your eterne grant,
What is mankind more unto yhold
Than is the fhepe that rouketh in the fold?
For flain is man right as another beeft,
And dwelleth eke in prifon and arrest,
And hath fikneffe and gret adversite,
And often times gilteles parde.

What governance is in this prefcience That giltelefs turmenteth innocence ? And yet encrefeth this all my penance, That man is bounden to his obfervance For Goddes fake to leten of his will, Ther as a beeft may all his luft fulfill. And when a beeft is ded he hath no peine; But man after his deth mote wepe and pleine, Though in this world he have care and wo: Withouten doute it maye ftonden fo.

The answer of this lete I to divines,
But wel I wote that in this world gret pine is.
Alas! I fee a ferpent or a thefe,

That many a trewe man hath do meschefe,
Gon at his large, and wher him luft may turn.
But I mofte ben in prifon thurgh Saturn,
And eke thurgh Juno, jalous and eke wood
That hath wel neye deftruied all the blood
Of Thebes, with his wafte walls wide.
And Venus fleeth me on that other fide
For jaloufie, and fere of him Arcite.

Now wol I ftent of Palamon a lite,

And leten him in his prifon ftill dwelle,
And of Arcita forth I wol you telle.

The fommer paffeth, and the nightes long
Encrefen double wife the peines ftrong
Both of the lover and of the prisoner;
I n'ot which hath the wofuller mistere
For fhortly for to say, this Palamon
Perpetuelly is damned to prifon,

In chaines and in fetters to ben ded;
And Arcite is exiled on his hed
For evermore as out of that contree,
Ne never more he fhal his lady see.

You lovers axe I now this question,
Who hath the werse, Arcite or Palamon?
That on my fe his lady day by day,
But in prison mofte he dwellen alway:
That other wher him luft may ride or go,
But fen his lady fhal he never mo.
Now demeth as you lifte, ye that can,
For I wil tell you forth as I began.

When that Arcite to Thebes comen was,
Ful oft a day he fwelt and faid Alas!
For fen his lady fhal he never mo.
And shortly to concluden all his wo,
So mochel forwe hadde never creature
That is or fhal be while the world may dure.
His flepe, his mete, his drinke, is him byraft,
That lene he wex, and drie as is a fhaft.
His eyen holwe, and grifly to behold,
His hewe falwe, and pale as afhen cold,
And folitary he was, and ever alone,
And wailing all the night, making his mone;
And if he herde fong or inftrument,
Than would he wepe, he mighte not be ftent.
So feble were his fpirites, and fo low,
And changed fo, that no man coude know
His fpeche ne his vois, though men it herd.
And in his gere, for all the world he ferd
Nought only like the lovers maladie,
Of Ereos, but rather ylike manie,
Engendred of humours melancolike,
Beforne his hed in his celle fantastike.
And shortly turned was all up fo doun
Both habit and eke difpofitioun
Of him, this woful lover Dan Arcite,
What fhuld I all day of his wo endite?

Whan he endured had a yere or two
This cruel torment, and this peine and wo,
At Thebes, in his contree, as I faid,
Upon a night in flepe as he him laid,
Him thought how that the winged god Mercury
Beforne him ftood, and bad him to be mery.
His flepy yerde in hond he bare upright;
An hat he wered upon his heres bright:
Arraied was this god (as he toke kepe)
As he was whan that Argus toke his flepe,
And said him thus; To Athenes fhalt thou wende;
Ther is thee shapen of thy wo an ende.

And with that word Arcite awoke and ftert.
Now trewely how fore that ever me fmert.
Quod he, to Athenes right now wol I fare;
Ne for no drede of deth fhall I not spare
To fe my lady, that I love and ferve;
In hire prefence I rekke not to Nerve.

And with that word he caught a gret mirrour,
And faw that changed was all his colour,
And faw his visage all in another kind:
And right anon it ran him in his mind,
That fith his face was fo disfigured

Of maladie the which he had endured,
He mighte wel, if that he bare him lowe,
Live in Athenes evermore unknowe,
And fen his lady wel nigh day by day.
And right anon he changed his aray,
And clad him as a poure labourer.
And all alone, fave only a fquier,
That knew his privite and all his cas,
Which was difguifed pourely as he was,
To Athenes is he gone the nexte way.
And to the court he went upon a day,
And at the gate he proffered his service,
To drugge and draw what fo men wold devife.
And fhortly of this matere for to sayn,
He fell in office with a chamberlain,
The which that dwelling was with Emelie,
For he was wife, and coude fone espie
Of every fervent which that served hire:
Wel coude he hewen wood, and water bere,
For he was yonge and mighty for the nones,
And therto he was ftrong and big of bones
To don that any wight can him devise.

A yere or two he was in this fervice,
Page of the chambre of Emelie the bright,
And Philoftrate he fayde that he hight.
But half fo wel beloved a man as he
Ne was ther never in court of his degre
He was fo gentil of conditioun,

That thurghout all the court was his renoun
They fayden that it were a charite
That Thefeus wold enhaunfe his degre,

And putten him in worshipful fervice,
Ther as he might his vertues exereife.
And thus within a while his name is fpronge
Both of his dedes and of his good tonge,
That Thefeus had taken him so ner
That of his chambre he made him a fquier,
And gave him gold to mainteine his degre;
And eke men brought him out of his contre
Fro yere to yere ful prively his rent;
But honeftly and fleighly he it spent,
That no man wondred how that he it hadde.
And thre yere in this wife his lif he ladde,
And bare him fo in pees and eke in werre
Ther n'as no man that Thefeus hath derre.
And in this bliffe let I now Arcite,
And fpeke I wol of Palamon a lite.

In derkeneffe and horrible and strong prifon
This feven yere hath fitten Palamon,
Forpined, what for love and for diftreffe.
Who feleth double forwe and hevineffe
But Palamon? that love diftraineth fo,
That wood out of his wit he goth for wo,
And eke therto he is a prisonere
Perpetuell, not only for a yere.

Who coude time in English proprely
His martirdom? forfoth it am not I,
Therfore I paffe as lightly as I may.
It fell that in the feventh yere, in Max