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O Cupide, out of alle charitee! O regne, that wolt no felawe have with thee! Ful sooth is seyd, that love ne lordshipe Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe; Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. Arcite is riden anon unto the toun, And on the morwe, er it were dayes light, Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al this harneys him biforn; And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. Tho chaungen gan the colour in hir face; Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, Whan hunted is the leoun or the bere, And hereth him come russhing in the greves, And breketh bothe bowes and the leves, And thinketh, ‘heer cometh my mortel enemy, With-oute faile, he moot be deed, or I; For outher I mot sleen him at the gappe, Or he mot sleen me, if that me mishappe:’ So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe, As fer as everich of hem other knewe. Ther nas no good day, ne no saluing; But streight, with-outen word or rehersing, Everich of hem halp for to armen other, As freendly as he were his owne brother; And after that, with sharpe speres stronge They foynen ech at other wonder longe. Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun In his fighting were a wood leoun, And as a cruel tygre was Arcite: As wilde bores gonne they to smyte, That frothen whyte as foom for ire wood. Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle; And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. O Cupide, out of alle charitee! O regne, that wolt no felawe have with thee! Ful sooth is seyd, that love ne lordshipe Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe; Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. Arcite is riden anon unto the toun, And on the morwe, er it were dayes light, Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al this harneys him biforn; And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. Tho chaungen gan the colour in hir face; Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, Whan hunted is the leoun or the bere, And hereth him come russhing in the greves, And breketh bothe bowes and the leves, And thinketh, ‘heer cometh my mortel enemy, With-oute faile, he moot be deed, or I; For outher I mot sleen him at the gappe, Or he mot sleen me, if that me mishappe:’ So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe, As fer as everich of hem other knewe. Ther nas no good day, ne no saluing; But streight, with-outen word or rehersing, Everich of hem halp for to armen other, As freendly as he were his owne brother; And after that, with sharpe speres stronge They foynen ech at other wonder longe. Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun In his fighting were a wood leoun, And as a cruel tygre was Arcite: As wilde bores gonne they to smyte, That frothen whyte as foom for ire wood. Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle; And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle.

Original Text

Modern Text

O Cupide, out of alle charitee! O regne, that wolt no felawe have with thee! Ful sooth is seyd, that love ne lordshipe Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe; Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. Arcite is riden anon unto the toun, And on the morwe, er it were dayes light, Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al this harneys him biforn; And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. Tho chaungen gan the colour in hir face; Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, Whan hunted is the leoun or the bere, And hereth him come russhing in the greves, And breketh bothe bowes and the leves, And thinketh, ‘heer cometh my mortel enemy, With-oute faile, he moot be deed, or I; For outher I mot sleen him at the gappe, Or he mot sleen me, if that me mishappe:’ So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe, As fer as everich of hem other knewe. Ther nas no good day, ne no saluing; But streight, with-outen word or rehersing, Everich of hem halp for to armen other, As freendly as he were his owne brother; And after that, with sharpe speres stronge They foynen ech at other wonder longe. Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun In his fighting were a wood leoun, And as a cruel tygre was Arcite: As wilde bores gonne they to smyte, That frothen whyte as foom for ire wood. Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle; And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle. O Cupide, out of alle charitee! O regne, that wolt no felawe have with thee! Ful sooth is seyd, that love ne lordshipe Wol noght, his thankes, have no felaweshipe; Wel finden that Arcite and Palamoun. Arcite is riden anon unto the toun, And on the morwe, er it were dayes light, Ful prively two harneys hath he dight, Bothe suffisaunt and mete to darreyne The bataille in the feeld bitwix hem tweyne. And on his hors, allone as he was born, He carieth al this harneys him biforn; And in the grove, at tyme and place y-set, This Arcite and this Palamon ben met. Tho chaungen gan the colour in hir face; Right as the hunter in the regne of Trace, That stondeth at the gappe with a spere, Whan hunted is the leoun or the bere, And hereth him come russhing in the greves, And breketh bothe bowes and the leves, And thinketh, ‘heer cometh my mortel enemy, With-oute faile, he moot be deed, or I; For outher I mot sleen him at the gappe, Or he mot sleen me, if that me mishappe:’ So ferden they, in chaunging of hir hewe, As fer as everich of hem other knewe. Ther nas no good day, ne no saluing; But streight, with-outen word or rehersing, Everich of hem halp for to armen other, As freendly as he were his owne brother; And after that, with sharpe speres stronge They foynen ech at other wonder longe. Thou mightest wene that this Palamoun In his fighting were a wood leoun, And as a cruel tygre was Arcite: As wilde bores gonne they to smyte, That frothen whyte as foom for ire wood. Up to the ancle foghte they in hir blood. And in this wyse I lete hem fighting dwelle; And forth I wol of Theseus yow telle.