Sche gan to loke upon Aurelius ;

'Is this your wil,' quod sche, and say ye thus?
Never erst,' quod sche, 'ne wiste I what ye mente,
But now, Aurely, I knowë your entente.

By thilke God, that yaf me soule and lyf,
Ne schal I never ben untrewë wif

In word ne werk; as fer as I have wit,
I wol ben his to whom that I am knit.'
But after that in pley thus seyde sche:
'Tak this for fynal answer as of me.
Aurelie,' quod sche, 'by heighë God above,
Yit wol I grauntë you to ben your love,
(Sin I you se so pitously compleyne),
Lokë, what day that endëlong1 Bryteyne
Ye remewe alle the rokkës, ston by stoon,
That thay ne lettë schip ne boot to goon;
I say, whan ye han maad the coost so clene
Of rokkës, that ther nys no stoon y-sene,
Than wol I love yow best of any man,

Have heer my trouthe, in al that ever I can.'
'Is ther non other grace in you?' quod he.
'No, by that Lord,' quod sche, 'that made me,
For wel I wot that that schal never betyde.
Let such folye out of youre hertë slyde.
What deyntë schuldë man have by his lijf,
For to go love another mannës wyf?'
Wo was Aurely whan that he this herde,
And with a sorwful herte he thus answerde.
'Madame,' quod he, 'this were an impossible.
Than mot I deye on sodeyn deth orrible.'
And with that word he torned him anon.

[Aurelius applies to a 'subtil clerke' of Orleans, who by magical arts causes all the rocks to seem to disappear. He then goes to Dorigen, and claims her promise.]

He taketh his leve, and sche astoniëd stood;
In alle hir face ther nas oon drop of blood;

1 all along.

Sche wende never have come in such a trappe.

'Allas!' quod sche, 'that ever this schulde happe! For wende I never by possibilité,

That such a monstre or merveyl mightë be;

It is agayns the proces of nature.'

And hom sche goth a sorwful creäture,
For verray fere unnethë may sche go.
Sche wepeth, wayleth al a day or two,
And swowneth, that it routhë was to see;
But why it was, to no wight toldë sche,
For out of toune was goon Arviragus.
But to hir self sche spak, and saydë thus,
With face pale, and with ful sorwful cheere,
In hir compleint, as ye schul after heere.

[Dorigen complains to Fortune.]

Thus playned Dorigen a day or tweye,
Purposyng ever that sche wolde deye;
But nathëles upon the thriddë night
Hom cam Arveragus, the worthy knight,
And asked hir why that sche weep so sore;
And sche gan wepen ever lenger the more.

'Allas!' quod sche, 'that ever was I born! Thus have I sayd,' quod sche, 'thus have I sworn ;' And told him al, as ye han herd bifore;

It nedeth nought reherse it you no more.

This housbond with glad cheere in frendly wise Answerde and sayde, as I schal you devyse. 'Is ther aught ellës, Dorigen, but this?' 'Nay, nay,' quod sche, 'God helpe me so as wis', This is to moche, and it were Goddes wille.' 'Ye, wyf,' quod he, 'let slepen that is stille, It may be wel peraunter yet to day,

Ye schal your trouthë holden, by my fay.

1

For God so wisly have mercy upon me,
I hadde wel lever y-stikid for to be,

1 for a certainty, certainly.

2

2 stabbed.

For verray love which that I to you have,

But-if ye scholde your trouthë kepe and save.
Trouthe is the heighest thing that men may kepe.'
But with that word he gan anoon to wepe,
And sayde, 'I yow forbede up peyne of deth,
That never whil thee lasteth lyf or breth,
To no wight telle thou of this aventure.
As I may best, I wil my woo endure.
Ne make no contenaunce of hevynesse,
That folk of you may demen harm or gesse.'
And forth he cleped a squyer and a mayde.
'Go forth anoon with Dorigen,' he sayde,
'And bryngeth hir to such a place anoon.'
They take her leve, and on her wey they gon;
But they ne wistë why sche thider wente,
He nolde no wight tellen his entente.....
This squyer, which that highte Aurelius,
On Dorigen that was so amorous,
Of adventure happëd hir to mete

Amyd the toun, right in the quykë strete;
As sche was boun to goon the wey forth-right
Toward the gardyn, ther as sche had hight.
And he was to the gardyn-ward also ;
For wel he spyëd whan sche woldë go
Out of hir hous, to any maner place.
But thus thay mette, of adventure or grace,
And he salueth hir with glad entente,
And askith of hir whider-ward sche wente.
And sche answerdë, half as sche were mad,
'Unto the gardyn, as myn housbond bad,
My trouthë for to holde, allas! allas!'
Aurilius gan wondren on this cas1,
And in his herte hadde gret compassioun
Of hir, and of hir lamentacioun,

And of Arveragus the worthy knight,

That bad hir holden al that sche hadde hight,
So loth him was his wif schuld breke hir trouthe.
And in his hert he caughte of this gret routhe,

1 case, circumstance.

Consideryng the best on every syde,

That fro his lust yet were him lever abyde,
Than doon so heigh a cherlissch wrecchednesse
Agayns fraunchise' of allë gentilesse ;
For which in fewë wordës sayde he thus.
'Madame, saith to your lord Arveragus,
That sith I se his gretë gentilesse

To you, and eek I se wel your distresse,

That him were lever han schame (and that were routhe)
Than ye to me schulde brekë thus your trouthe,

I have wel lever 2 ever to suffre woo,
Than I departe3 the love bytwix yow two.
I yow relesse, madame, into your hond
Quyt every seurëment and every bond
That ye han maad to me as herebiforn,
Sith thilkë tymë which that ye were born.
My trouthe I plighte, I schal yow never repreve
Of no byhest, and heer I take my leve,

As of the trewest and the beste wif
That ever yit I knew in al my lyf.
But every wyf be war of hir byheste,
On Dorigen remembreth attë leste.
Thus can a squyer doon a gentil dede
As wel as can a knyght, withouten drede.'
Sche thanketh him upon hir knees al bare,
And hoom unto hir housbond is sche fare,
And told him al, as ye han herd me sayd;
And, be ye siker, he was so wel apaydR,
That it were impossible me to write.
What schuld I lenger of this cas endite?
Arveragus and Dorigen his wyf

In sovereyn blissë leden forth her lyf,
Never eft ne was ther anger hem bytwene;

He cherisscheth hir as though sche were a quene,
And sche was to him trewe for evermore;

Of these two folk ye gete of me nomore.

THE KNIGHTES TALE.

[Palamon and Arcite first see Emelye from the prison window.]

This passeth yeer by yeer, and day by day,
Til it fel oonës, in a morwe of May,

That Emelie, that fairer was to seene
Than is the lilie on hir stalkë grene,

And fresscher than the May with flourës newe-
For with the rosë colour strof hire hewe,
I not which was the fayrere of hem two-
Er it were day, as was hire wone2 to do,
Sche was arisen, and al redy dight;
For May wol han no sloggardye anight.
The sesoun priketh every gentil herte,
And maketh him out of his sleep to sterte,
And seith, 'Arys, and do thyn observaunce.'
This makede Emelye han remembraunce
To don honour to May, and for to ryse.
I-clothed was sche fresshe for to devyse.
Hir yelwe heer was browded in a tresse,
Byhynde hir bak, a yerdë long, I gesse.
And in the gardyn at the sonne upriste
Sche walketh up and doun, and as hir liste
Sche gadereth flourës, party whyte and reede,
To make a sotil gerland for hire heede,
And as an aungel hevenlyche sche song.
The gretë tour, that was so thikke and strong,
Which of the castel was the cheef dongeoun,
(Ther as the knightës werën in prisoun,
Of which I toldë yow, and tellen schal)

Was even joynant to the gardyn-wal,

Ther as this Emelye hadde hire pleyynge.

Bright was the sonne, and cleer that morwenynge,
And Palamon, this woful prisoner,

As was his wone 2, by leve of his gayler,

1

ne wot, know not.

2

wont, custom.

3 adjoining.