Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📖

night, one stound moment<15>

In any country of this Theseus,

And he were caught, it was accorded thus, That with a sword he shoulde lose his head; There was none other remedy nor rede*. counsel But took his leave, and homeward he him sped; Let him beware, his necke lieth to wed*. in pledge

 

How great a sorrow suff’reth now Arcite!

The death he feeleth through his hearte smite; He weepeth, waileth, crieth piteously; To slay himself he waiteth privily.

He said; “Alas the day that I was born!

Now is my prison worse than beforn:

Now is me shape eternally to dwell it is fixed for me

Not in purgatory, but right in hell.

Alas! that ever I knew Perithous.

For elles had I dwelt with Theseus

Y-fettered in his prison evermo’.

Then had I been in bliss, and not in woe.

Only the sight of her, whom that I serve, Though that I never may her grace deserve, Would have sufficed right enough for me.

O deare cousin Palamon,” quoth he,

“Thine is the vict’ry of this aventure, Full blissfully in prison to endure:

In prison? nay certes, in paradise.

Well hath fortune y-turned thee the dice, That hast the sight of her, and I th’ absence.

For possible is, since thou hast her presence, And art a knight, a worthy and an able, That by some cas*, since fortune is changeable, *chance Thou may’st to thy desire sometime attain.

But I that am exiled, and barren

Of alle grace, and in so great despair, That there n’is earthe, water, fire, nor air, Nor creature, that of them maked is,

That may me helpe nor comfort in this, Well ought I *sterve in wanhope* and distress. die in despair

Farewell my life, my lust*, and my gladness. pleasure Alas, why plainen men so in commune why do men so often complain Of purveyance of God, or of Fortune, of God’s providence?*

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 meinie* slain. *servants <16>

Infinite harmes be in this mattere.

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*. *slippery And certes in this world so fare we.

We seeke fast after felicity,

But we go wrong full often truely.

Thus we may sayen all, and namely* I, especially That ween’d, and had a great opinion, *thought That if I might escape from prison

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 side, Palamon,

When that he wist Arcita was agone,

Much sorrow maketh, that the greate tower Resounded of his yelling and clamour

The pure* fetters on his shinnes great *very <17>

Were of his bitter salte teares 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*. takest little heed

Thou mayst, since thou hast wisdom and manhead, manhood, courage Assemble all the folk of our kindred,

And make a war so sharp on this country That by some aventure, or some treaty, Thou mayst have her to lady and to wife, For whom that I must needes 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 avantage, More than is mine, that sterve 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 seized So woodly, that he like was to behold *madly The box-tree, or the ashes dead and cold.

Then said; “O cruel goddess, that govern This world with binding of your word etern eternal And writen in the table of adamant

Your parlement* and your eternal grant, consultation What is mankind more unto you y-hold* by you esteemed Than is the sheep, that rouketh in the fold! lie huddled together For slain is man, right as another beast; And dwelleth eke in prison and arrest, And hath sickness, and great adversity, And oftentimes guilteless, pardie *by God What governance is in your prescience, That guilteless tormenteth innocence?

And yet increaseth this all my penance, That man is bounden to his observance

For Godde’s sake to *letten of his will, restrain his desire*

Whereas a beast may all his lust fulfil.

And when a beast is dead, he hath no pain; But man after his death must weep and plain, Though in this worlde he have care and woe: Withoute doubt it maye standen so.

“The answer of this leave I to divines, But well I wot, that in this world great pine* is; *pain, trouble Alas! I see a serpent or a thief

That many a true 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, mad That hath well nigh destroyed all the blood Of Thebes, with his waste walles wide.

And Venus slay’th me on that other side For jealousy, and fear of him, Arcite.”

 

Now will I stent* of Palamon a lite*, pause **little And let him in his prison stille dwell, And of Arcita forth I will you tell.

The summer passeth, and the nightes long Increase double-wise the paines strong Both of the lover and the prisonere.

I n’ot* which hath the wofuller mistere**. know not *condition For, shortly for to say, this Palamon

Perpetually is damned to prison,

In chaines and in fetters to be dead;

And Arcite is exiled on his head on peril of his head

For evermore as out of that country,

Nor never more he shall his lady see.

You lovers ask I now this question,<18>

Who lieth the worse, Arcite or Palamon?

The one may see his lady day by day,

But in prison he dwelle must alway.

The other where him list may ride or go, But see his lady shall he never mo’.

Now deem all as you liste, 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*, and said, “Alas!” *fainted For see this lady he shall never mo’.

And shortly to concluden all his woe,

So much sorrow had never creature

That is or shall be while the world may dure.

His sleep, his meat, his drink is *him byraft, taken away from him*

That lean he wex*, and dry as any shaft. *became His eyen hollow, grisly to behold,

His hue sallow, and pale as ashes cold, And solitary he was, ever alone,

And wailing all the night, making his moan.

And if he hearde song or instrument,

Then would he weepen, he might not be stent*. *stopped So feeble were his spirits, and so low, And changed so, that no man coulde know His speech, neither his voice, though men it heard.

And in his gear* for all the world he far’d *behaviour <19>

Not only like the lovers’ malady

Of Eros, but rather y-like manie madness Engender’d of humours melancholic,

Before his head in his cell fantastic.<20>

And shortly turned was all upside down, Both habit and eke dispositioun,

Of him, this woful lover Dan* Arcite. *Lord <21>

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 he him laid,

Him thought how that the winged god Mercury Before him stood, and bade him to be merry.

His sleepy yard* in hand he bare upright; *rod <22>

A hat he wore upon his haires bright.

Arrayed was this god (as he took keep*) notice As he was when that Argus<23> took his sleep; And said him thus: “To Athens shalt thou wend; go There is thee shapen of thy woe an end.” *fixed, prepared And with that word Arcite woke and start.

“Now truely how sore that e’er me smart,”

Quoth he, “to Athens right now will I fare.

Nor for no dread of death shall I not spare To see my lady that I love and serve;

In her presence *I recke not to sterve.*” do not care if I die

And with that word he caught a great mirror, And saw that changed was all his colour, And saw his visage all in other kind.

And right anon it ran him ill his mind, That since his face was so disfigur’d

Of malady the which he had endur’d,

He mighte well, if that he bare him low, lived in lowly fashion

Live in Athenes evermore unknow,

And see his lady wellnigh day by day.

And right anon he changed his array,

And clad him as a poore labourer.

And all alone, save only a squier,

That knew his privity* and all his cas*, secrets **fortune Which was disguised poorly as he was,

To Athens is he gone the nexte* way. *nearest <24>

And to the court he went upon a day,

And at the gate he proffer’d his service, To drudge and draw, what so men would devise*. *order And, shortly of this matter for to sayn, He fell in office with a chamberlain,

The which that dwelling was with Emily.

For he was wise, and coulde soon espy

Of every servant which that served her.

Well could he hewe wood, and water bear, For he was young and mighty for the nones, occasion And thereto he was strong and big of bones To do that any wight can him devise.

 

A year or two he was in this service,

Page of the chamber of Emily the bright; And Philostrate he saide that he hight.

But half so well belov’d a man as he

Ne was there never in court of his degree.

He was so gentle of conditioun,

That throughout all the court was his renown.

They saide that it were a charity

That Theseus would *enhance his degree, elevate him in rank*

And put him in some worshipful service, There as he might his virtue exercise.

And thus within a while his name sprung Both of his deedes, and of his good tongue, That Theseus hath taken him so near,

That of his chamber he hath made him squire, And gave him gold to maintain his degree; And eke men brought him out of his country From year to year full privily his rent.

But honestly and slyly* he it spent, *discreetly, prudently That no man wonder’d how that he it had.

And three year in this wise his life be lad, led And bare him so in peace and eke in werre, war There was no man that Theseus had so derre*. dear And in this blisse leave I now Arcite, And speak I will of Palamon a lite. *little In