The Knight’s Tale (3 of 3)
The nexte hour of Mars following thisArcite to the temple walked isOf fierce Mars, to do his sacrificeWith all the rites of his pagan guise.With piteous heart and high devotionRight thus to Mars he said his orison“O stronge god, that in the regnes oldOf Thrace honoured art, and lord y-holdAnd hast in every regne, and every landOf armes all the bridle in thine hand,And them fortunest as thee list devise,Accept of me my piteous sacrifice.If so be that my youthe may deserve,And that my might be worthy for to serveThy godhead, that I may be one of thine,Then pray I thee to rue upon my pine,For thilke pain, and thilke hote fire,In which thou whilom burned’st for desireWhenne that thou usedest the beautyOf faire young Venus, fresh and free,And haddest her in armes at thy will:And though thee ones on a time misfill,When Vulcanus had caught thee in his las,And found thee ligging by his wife, alas!For thilke sorrow that was in thine heart,Have ruth as well upon my paine’s smart.I am young and unconning, as thou know’st,And, as I trow, with love offended mostThat e’er was any living creature:For she, that doth me all this woe endure,Ne recketh ne’er whether I sink or fleetAnd well I wot, ere she me mercy hete,I must with strengthe win her in the place:And well I wot, withoute help or graceOf thee, ne may my strengthe not avail:Then help me, lord, to-morr’w in my bataille,For thilke fire that whilom burned thee,As well as this fire that now burneth me;And do that I to-morr’w may have victory.Mine be the travail, all thine be the glory.Thy sovereign temple will I most honourOf any place, and alway most labourIn thy pleasance and in thy craftes strong.And in thy temple I will my banner hong,And all the armes of my company,And evermore, until that day I die,Eternal fire I will before thee findAnd eke to this my vow I will me bind:My beard, my hair that hangeth long adown,That never yet hath felt offensionOf razor nor of shears, I will thee give,And be thy true servant while I live.Now, lord, have ruth upon my sorrows sore,Give me the victory, I ask no more.”
The prayer stint of Arcita the strong,The ringes on the temple door that hong,And eke the doores, clattered full fast,Of which Arcita somewhat was aghast.The fires burn’d upon the altar bright,That it gan all the temple for to light;A sweete smell anon the ground up gaf,And Arcita anon his hand up haf,And more incense into the fire he cast,With other rites more and at the lastThe statue of Mars began his hauberk ring;And with that sound he heard a murmuringFull low and dim, that saide thus, “Victory.”For which he gave to Mars honour and glory.And thus with joy, and hope well to fare,Arcite anon unto his inn doth fare.As fain as fowl is of the brighte sun.
And right anon such strife there is begunFor thilke granting, in the heav’n above,Betwixte Venus the goddess of love,And Mars the sterne god armipotent,That Jupiter was busy it to stent:Till that the pale Saturnus the cold,That knew so many of adventures old,Found in his old experience such an art,That he full soon hath pleased every part.As sooth is said, eld hath great advantage,In eld is bothe wisdom and usage:Men may the old out-run, but not out-rede.Saturn anon, to stint the strife and drede,Albeit that it is against his kind,Of all this strife gan a remedy find.“My deare daughter Venus,” quoth Saturn,“My course, that hath so wide for to turn,Hath more power than wot any man.Mine is the drowning in the sea so wan;Mine is the prison in the darke cote,Mine the strangling and hanging by the throat,The murmur, and the churlish rebelling,The groyning, and the privy poisoning.I do vengeance and plein correction,I dwell in the sign of the lion.Mine is the ruin of the highe halls,The falling of the towers and the wallsUpon the miner or the carpenter:I slew Samson in shaking the pillar:Mine also be the maladies cold,The darke treasons, and the castes old:My looking is the father of pestilence.Now weep no more, I shall do diligenceThat Palamon, that is thine owen knight,Shall have his lady, as thou hast him hight.Though Mars shall help his knight, yet nathelessBetwixte you there must sometime be peace:All be ye not of one complexion,That each day causeth such division,I am thine ayel, ready at thy will;Weep now no more, I shall thy lust fulfil.”Now will I stenten of the gods above,Of Mars, and of Venus, goddess of love,And telle you as plainly as I canThe great effect, for which that I began.
Great was the feast in Athens thilke day;And eke the lusty season of that MayMade every wight to be in such pleasance,That all that Monday jousten they and dance,And spenden it in Venus’ high service.But by the cause that they shoulde riseEarly a-morrow for to see that fight,Unto their reste wente they at night.And on the morrow, when the day gan spring,Of horse and harness noise and clatteringThere was in the hostelries all about:And to the palace rode there many a routOf lordes, upon steedes and palfreys.There mayst thou see devising of harnessSo uncouth and so rich, and wrought so weelOf goldsmithry, of brouding, and of steel;The shieldes bright, the testers, and trappuresGold-hewen helmets, hauberks, coat-armures;Lordes in parements on their coursers,Knightes of retinue, and eke squiers,Nailing the spears, and helmes buckeling,Gniding of shieldes, with lainers lacing;There as need is, they were nothing idle:The foamy steeds upon the golden bridleGnawing, and fast the armourers alsoWith file and hammer pricking to and fro;Yeomen on foot, and knaves many oneWith shorte staves, thick as they may gon;Pipes, trumpets, nakeres, and clariouns,That in the battle blowe bloody souns;The palace full of people up and down,There three, there ten, holding their questioun,Divining of these Theban knightes two.Some saiden thus, some said it shall he so;Some helden with him with the blacke beard,Some with the bald, some with the thick-hair’d;Some said he looked grim, and woulde fight:He had a sparth of twenty pound of weight.Thus was the halle full of diviningLong after that the sunne gan up spring.The great Theseus that of his sleep is wakedWith minstrelsy, and noise that was maked,Held yet the chamber of his palace rich,Till that the Theban knightes both y-lichHonoured were, and to the palace fet.Duke Theseus is at a window set,Array’d right as he were a god in throne:The people presseth thitherward full soonHim for to see, and do him reverence,And eke to hearken his hest and his sentence.An herald on a scaffold made an O,Till the noise of the people was y-do:And when he saw the people of noise all still,Thus shewed he the mighty Duke’s will.“The lord hath of his high discretionConsidered that it were destructionTo gentle blood, to fighten in the guiseOf mortal battle now in this emprise:Wherefore to shape that they shall not die,He will his firste purpose modify.No man therefore, on pain of loss of life,No manner shot, nor poleaxe, nor short knifeInto the lists shall send, or thither bring.Nor short sword for to stick with point bitingNo man shall draw, nor bear it by his side.And no man shall unto his fellow rideBut one course, with a sharp y-grounden spear:Foin if him list on foot, himself to wear.And he that is at mischief shall be take,And not slain, but be brought unto the stake,That shall be ordained on either side;Thither he shall by force, and there abide.And if so fall the chiefetain be takeOn either side, or elles slay his make,No longer then the tourneying shall last.God speede you; go forth and lay on fast.With long sword and with mace fight your fill.Go now your way; this is the lordes will.The voice of the people touched the heaven,So loude cried they with merry steven:God save such a lord that is so good,He willeth no destruction of blood.
Up go the trumpets and the melody,And to the listes rode the companyBy ordinance, throughout the city large,Hanged with cloth of gold, and not with sarge.Full like a lord this noble Duke gan ride,And these two Thebans upon either side:
And after rode the queen and Emily,And after them another companyOf one and other, after their degree.And thus they passed thorough that cityAnd to the listes came they by time:It was not of the day yet fully prime.When set was Theseus full rich and high,Hippolyta the queen and Emily,And other ladies in their degrees about,Unto the seates presseth all the rout.And westward, through the gates under Mart,Arcite, and eke the hundred of his part,With banner red, is enter’d right anon;And in the selve moment PalamonIs, under Venus, eastward in the place,With banner white, and hardy cheer and faceIn all the world, to seeken up and downSo even without variatiounThere were such companies never tway.For there was none so wise that coulde sayThat any had of other avantageOf worthiness, nor of estate, nor age,So even were they chosen for to guess.And in two ranges faire they them dress.When that their names read were every one,That in their number guile were there none,Then were the gates shut, and cried was loud;“Do now your devoir, younge knights proudThe heralds left their pricking up and downNow ring the trumpet loud and clarioun.There is no more to say, but east and westIn go the speares sadly in the rest;In go the sharpe spurs into the side.There see me who can joust, and who can ride.There shiver shaftes upon shieldes thick;He feeleth through the hearte-spoon the prick.Up spring the speares twenty foot on height;Out go the swordes as the silver bright.The helmes they to-hewen, and to-shred;Out burst the blood, with sterne streames red.With mighty maces the bones they to-brest.He through the thickest of the throng gan threst.There stumble steedes strong, and down go all.He rolleth under foot as doth a ball.He foineth on his foe with a trunchoun,And he him hurtleth with his horse adown.He through the body hurt is, and sith take,Maugre his head, and brought unto the stake,As forword was, right there he must abide.Another led is on that other side.And sometime doth them Theseus to rest,Them to refresh, and drinken if them lest.Full oft a day have thilke Thebans twoTogether met and wrought each other woe:Unhorsed hath each other of them twayThere is no tiger in the vale of Galaphay,When that her whelp is stole, when it is liteSo cruel on the hunter, as ArciteFor jealous heart upon this Palamon:Nor in Belmarie there is no fell lion,That hunted is, or for his hunger woodOr for his prey desireth so the blood,As Palamon to slay his foe Arcite.The jealous strokes upon their helmets bite;Out runneth blood on both their sides red,Sometime an end there is of every deedFor ere the sun unto the reste went,The stronge king Emetrius gan hentThis Palamon, as he fought with Arcite,And made his sword deep in his flesh to bite,And by the force of twenty is he take,Unyielding, and is drawn unto the stake.And in the rescue of this PalamonThe stronge king Licurgus is borne down:And king Emetrius, for all his strengthIs borne out of his saddle a sword’s length,So hit him Palamon ere he were take:But all for nought; he was brought to the stake:His hardy hearte might him helpe naught,He must abide when that he was caught,By force, and eke by composition.Who sorroweth now but woful PalamonThat must no more go again to fight?And when that Theseus had seen that sightUnto the folk that foughte thus each one,He cried, Ho! no more, for it is done!I will be true judge, and not party.Arcite of Thebes shall have Emily,That by his fortune hath her fairly won.”Anon there is a noise of people gone,For joy of this, so loud and high withal,It seemed that the listes shoulde fall.
What can now faire Venus do above?What saith she now? what doth this queen of love?But weepeth so, for wanting of her will,Till that her teares in the listes fillShe said: “I am ashamed doubteless.”Saturnus saide: “Daughter, hold thy peace.Mars hath his will, his knight hath all his boon,And by mine head thou shalt be eased soon.”The trumpeters with the loud minstrelsy,The heralds, that full loude yell and cry,Be in their joy for weal of Dan Arcite.But hearken me, and stinte noise a lite,What a miracle there befell anonThis fierce Arcite hath off his helm y-done,And on a courser for to shew his faceHe pricketh endelong the large place,Looking upward upon this Emily;And she again him cast a friendly eye(For women, as to speaken in commune,They follow all the favour of fortune),And was all his in cheer, as his in heart.Out of the ground a fire infernal start,From Pluto sent, at request of SaturnFor which his horse for fear began to turn,And leap aside, and founder as he leapAnd ere that Arcite may take any keep,He pight him on the pummel of his head.That in the place he lay as he were dead.His breast to-bursten with his saddle-bow.As black he lay as any coal or crow,So was the blood y-run into his face.Anon he was y-borne out of the placeWith hearte sore, to Theseus’ palace.Then was he carven out of his harness.And in a bed y-brought full fair and bliveFor he was yet in mem’ry and alive,And always crying after Emily.
Duke Theseus, with all his company,Is come home to Athens his city,With alle bliss and great solemnity.Albeit that this aventure was fall,He woulde not discomforte them allThen said eke, that Arcite should not die,He should be healed of his malady.And of another thing they were as fain.That of them alle was there no one slain,All were they sorely hurt, and namely one,That with a spear was thirled his breast-bone.To other woundes, and to broken arms,Some hadden salves, and some hadden charms:And pharmacies of herbs, and eke saveThey dranken, for they would their lives have.For which this noble Duke, as he well can,Comforteth and honoureth every man,And made revel all the longe night,Unto the strange lordes, 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 aventure.Nor to be led by force unto a stakeUnyielding, and with twenty knights y-takeOne person all alone, withouten mo’,And harried forth by armes, foot, and toe,And eke his steede driven forth with staves,With footmen, bothe yeomen and eke knaves,It was aretted him no villainy:There may no man clepen it cowardy.For which anon Duke Theseus let cry, —To stenten alle rancour and envy, —The gree as well on one side as the other,And either side alike as other’s brother:And gave them giftes after their degree,And held a feaste fully dayes three:And conveyed the kinges worthilyOut of his town a journee largelyAnd home went every man the righte way,There was no more but “Farewell, Have good day.”Of this bataille I will no more inditeBut speak of Palamon and of Arcite.
Swelleth the breast of Arcite and the soreIncreaseth at his hearte more and more.The clotted blood, for any leache-craftCorrupteth and is in his bouk y-laftThat neither veine blood nor ventousing,Nor drink of herbes may be his helping.The virtue expulsive or animal,From thilke virtue called natural,Nor may the venom voide, nor expelThe pipes of his lungs began to swellAnd every lacert in his breast adownIs shent with venom and corruption.Him gaineth neither, for to get his life,Vomit upward, nor downward laxative;All is to-bursten thilke region;Nature hath now no domination.And certainly where nature will not wirch,Farewell physic: go bear the man to chirch.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 heartDeclare one point of all my sorrows’ smartTo you, my lady, that I love the most:But I bequeath the service of my ghostTo you aboven every creature,Since that my life ne may no longer dure.Alas the woe! alas, the paines strongThat I for you have suffered and so long!Alas the death, alas, mine Emily!Alas departing of our company!Alas, mine hearte’s queen! alas, my wife!Mine hearte’s lady, ender of my life!What is this world? what aske men to have?Now with his love, now in his colde graveAl one, withouten any company.Farewell, my sweet, farewell, mine Emily,And softly take me in your armes tway,For love of God, and hearken what I say.I have here with my cousin PalamonHad strife and rancour many a day agone,For love of you, and for my jealousy.And Jupiter so wis my soule gie,To speaken of a servant properly,With alle circumstances truely,That is to say, truth, honour, and knighthead,Wisdom, humbless, estate, and high kindred,Freedom, and all that longeth to that art,So Jupiter have of my soul 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 comeThe cold of death, that had him overnome.And yet moreover in his armes twoThe vital strength is lost, and all ago.Only the intellect, withoute more,That dwelled in his hearte sick and sore,Gan faile, when the hearte felte death;Dusked his eyen two, and fail’d his breath.But on his lady yet he cast his eye;His laste word was; “Mercy, Emily!”His spirit changed house, and wente there,As I came never I cannot telle where.Therefore I stent, I am no divinister;Of soules find I nought in this register.Ne me list not th’ opinions to tellOf them, though that they writen where they dwell;Arcite is cold, there Mars his soule gie.Now will I speake forth of Emily.
Shriek’d Emily, and howled Palamon,And Theseus his sister took anonSwooning, and bare her from the corpse away.What helpeth it to tarry forth the day,To telle how she wept both eve and morrow?For in such cases women have such sorrow,When that their husbands be from them y-go,That for the more part they sorrow so,Or elles fall into such malady,That at the laste certainly they die.Infinite be the sorrows and the tearsOf olde folk, and folk of tender years,In all the town, for death of this Theban:For him there weepeth bothe child and man.So great a weeping was there none certain,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 olde father Egeus,That knew this worlde’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 died never man,” quoth he,“That he ne liv’d in earth in some degree,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, passing to and fro:Death is an end of every worldly sore.”And over all this said he yet much moreTo this effect, full wisely to exhortThe people, that they should them recomfort.Duke Theseus, with all his busy cure,Casteth about, where that the sepultureOf good Arcite may best y-maked be,And eke most honourable in his degree.And at the last he took conclusion,That there as first Arcite and PalamonHadde for love the battle them between,That in that selve grove, sweet and green,There as he had his amorous desires,His complaint, and for love his hote fires,He woulde make a fire, in which th’ officeOf funeral he might all accomplice;And let anon command to hack and hewThe oakes old, and lay them on a rewIn culpons, well arrayed for to brenne.His officers with swifte feet they renneAnd ride anon at his commandement.And after this, Duke Theseus hath sentAfter a bier, and it all overspradWith cloth of gold, the richest that he had;And of the same suit he clad Arcite.Upon his handes were his gloves white,Eke on his head a crown of laurel green,And in his hand a sword full bright and keen.He laid him bare the visage on the bier,Therewith he wept, that pity was to hear.And, for the people shoulde see him all,When it was day he brought them to the hall,That roareth of the crying and the soun’.Then came this woful Theban, Palamon,With sluttery beard, and ruggy ashy hairs,In clothes black, y-dropped all with tears,And (passing over weeping Emily)The ruefullest of all the company.And inasmuch as the service should beThe more noble and rich in its degree,Duke Theseus let forth three steedes bring,That trapped were in steel all glittering.And covered with the arms of Dan Arcite.Upon these steedes, that were great and white,There satte folk, of whom one bare his shield,Another his spear in his handes held;The thirde bare with him his bow Turkeis,Of brent gold was the case and the harness:And ride forth a pace with sorrowful cheerToward the grove, as ye shall after hear.
The noblest of the Greekes that there wereUpon their shoulders carried the bier,With slacke pace, and eyen red and wet,Throughout the city, by the master street,That spread was all with black, and wondrous highRight of the same is all the street y-wrie.Upon the right hand went old Egeus,And on the other side Duke Theseus,With vessels in their hand of gold full fine,All full of honey, milk, and blood, and wine;Eke Palamon, with a great company;And after that came woful Emily,With fire in hand, as was that time the guise,To do th’ office of funeral service.
High labour, and full great apparelingWas at the service, and the pyre-making,That with its greene top the heaven raught,And twenty fathom broad its armes straught:This is to say, the boughes were so broad.Of straw first there was laid many a load.But how the pyre was maked up on height,And eke the names how the trees hight,As oak, fir, birch, asp, alder, holm, poplere,Willow, elm, plane, ash, box, chestnut, lind, laurere,Maple, thorn, beech, hazel, yew, whipul tree,How they were fell’d, shall not be told for me;Nor how the goddes rannen up and downDisinherited of their habitatioun,In which they wonned had in rest and peace,Nymphes, Faunes, and Hamadryades;Nor how the beastes and the birdes allFledden for feare, when the wood gan fall;Nor how the ground aghast was of the light,That was not wont to see the sunne bright;Nor how the fire was couched first with stre,And then with dry stickes cloven in three,And then with greene wood and spicery,And then with cloth of gold and with pierrie,And garlands hanging with full many a flower,The myrrh, the incense with so sweet odour;Nor how Arcita lay among all this,Nor what richess about his body is;Nor how that Emily, as was the guise,Put in the fire of funeral service;Nor how she swooned when she made the fire,Nor what she spake, nor what was her desire;Nor what jewels men in the fire then castWhen that the fire was great and burned fast;
Nor how some cast their shield, and some their spear,And of their vestiments, which that they wear,And cuppes full of wine, and milk, and blood,Into the fire, that burnt as it were wood;Nor how the Greekes with a huge routThree times riden all the fire aboutUpon the left hand, with a loud shouting,And thries with their speares clattering;And thries how the ladies gan to cry;Nor how that led was homeward Emily;Nor how Arcite is burnt to ashes cold;Nor how the lyke-wake was y-holdAll thilke night, nor how the Greekes playThe wake-plays, ne keep I not to say:Who wrestled best naked, with oil anoint,Nor who that bare him best in no disjoint.I will not tell eke how they all are goneHome to Athenes when the play is done;But shortly to the point now will I wend,And maken of my longe tale an end.
By process and by length of certain yearsAll stinted is the mourning and the tearsOf Greekes, by one general assent.Then seemed me there was a parlementAt Athens, upon certain points and cas:Amonge the which points y-spoken wasTo have with certain countries alliance,And have of Thebans full obeisance.For which this noble Theseus anonLet send after the gentle Palamon,Unwist of him what was the cause and why:But in his blacke clothes sorrowfullyHe came at his commandment on hie;Then sente Theseus for Emily.When they were set, and hush’d was all the placeAnd Theseus abided had a spaceEre any word came from his wise breastHis eyen set he there as was his lest,And with a sad visage he sighed still,And after that right thus he said his will.“The firste mover of the cause aboveWhen he first made the faire chain of love,Great was th’ effect, and high was his intent;Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant:For with that faire chain of love he bondThe fire, the air, the water, and the londIn certain bondes, that they may not flee:That same prince and mover eke,” quoth he,“Hath stablish’d, in this wretched world adown,Certain of dayes and durationTo all that are engender’d in this place,Over the whiche day they may not pace,All may they yet their dayes well abridge.There needeth no authority to allegeFor it is proved by experience;But that me list declare my sentence.Then may men by this order well discern,That thilke mover stable is and etern.Well may men know, but that it be a fool,That every part deriveth from its whole.For nature hath not ta’en its beginningOf no partie nor cantle of a thing,But of a thing that perfect is and stable,Descending so, till it be corruptable.And therefore of His wise purveyanceHe hath so well beset his ordinance,That species of things and progressionsShallen endure by successions,And not etern, withouten any lie:This mayst thou understand and see at eye.Lo th’ oak, that hath so long a nourishingFrom the time that it ’ginneth first to spring,And hath so long a life, as ye may see,Yet at the last y-wasted is the tree.Consider eke, how that the harde stoneUnder our feet, on which we tread and gon,Yet wasteth, as it lieth by the way.The broade river some time waxeth drey.The greate townes see we wane and wend.Then may ye see that all things have an end.Of man and woman see we well also, —That needes in one of the termes two, —That is to say, in youth or else in age,-He must be dead, the king as shall a page;Some in his bed, some in the deepe sea,Some in the large field, as ye may see:There helpeth nought, all go that ilke way:Then may I say that alle thing must die.What maketh this but Jupiter the king?The which is prince, and cause of alle thing,Converting all unto his proper will,From which it is derived, sooth to tellAnd hereagainst no creature alive,Of no degree, availeth for to strive.Then is it wisdom, as it thinketh me,To make a virtue of necessity,And take it well, that we may not eschew,And namely what to us all is due.And whoso grudgeth ought, he doth folly,And rebel is to him that all may gie.And certainly a man hath most honourTo dien in his excellence and flower,When he is sicker of his goode name.Then hath he done his friend, nor him, no shameAnd gladder ought his friend be of his death,When with honour is yielded up his breath,Than when his name appalled is for age;For all forgotten is his vassalage.Then is it best, as for a worthy fame,To dien when a man is best of name.The contrary of all this is wilfulness.Why grudge we, why have we heaviness,That good Arcite, of chivalry the flower,Departed is, with duty and honour,Out of this foule prison of this life?Why grudge here his cousin and his wifeOf his welfare, that loved him so well?Can he them thank? nay, God wot, neverdeal, —That both his soul and eke themselves offend,And yet they may their lustes not amend.What may I conclude of this longe serie,But after sorrow I rede us to be merry,And thanke Jupiter for all his grace?And ere that we departe from this place,I rede that we make of sorrows twoOne perfect joye lasting evermo’:And look now where most sorrow is herein,There will I first amenden and begin.“Sister,” quoth he, “this is my full assent,With all th’ advice here of my parlement,That gentle Palamon, your owen knight,That serveth you with will, and heart, and might,And ever hath, since first time ye him knew,That ye shall of your grace upon him rue,And take him for your husband and your lord:Lend me your hand, for this is our accord.Let see now of your womanly pity.He is a kinge’s brother’s son, pardie.And though he were a poore bachelere,Since he hath served you so many a year,And had for you so great adversity,It muste be considered, ’lieveth me.For gentle mercy oweth to passen right.”Then said he thus to Palamon the knight;“I trow there needeth little sermoningTo make you assente to this thing.Come near, and take your lady by the hand.”Betwixte them was made anon the band,That hight matrimony or marriage,By all the counsel of the baronage.And thus with alle bliss and melodyHath Palamon y-wedded Emily.And God, that all this wide world hath wrought,Send him his love, that hath it dearly bought.For now is Palamon in all his weal,Living in bliss, in riches, and in heal.And Emily him loves so tenderly,And he her serveth all so gentilly,That never was there worde them betweenOf jealousy, nor of none other teen.Thus endeth Palamon and EmilyAnd God save all this faire company.