Continue reading with a SparkNotes PLUS trial

Original Text

Modern Text

Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, That moot namore goon agayn to fighte? And whan that Theseus had seyn this sighte, Unto the folk that foghten thus echoon He cryde, ‘Ho! namore, for it is doon! I wol be trewe Iuge, and no partye. Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye, That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.’ Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne For Ioye of this, so loude and heigh with-alle, It semed that the listes sholde falle. Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, That moot namore goon agayn to fighte? And whan that Theseus had seyn this sighte, Unto the folk that foghten thus echoon He cryde, ‘Ho! namore, for it is doon! I wol be trewe Iuge, and no partye. Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye, That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.’ Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne For Ioye of this, so loude and heigh with-alle, It semed that the listes sholde falle.
What can now faire Venus doon above? What seith she now? what dooth this quene of love? But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, Til that hir teres in the listes fille; She seyde: ‘I am ashamed, doutelees.’ Saturnus seyde: ‘Doghter, hold thy pees. Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone, And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.’ The trompes, with the loude minstralcye, The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and crye, Been in hir wele for Ioye of daun Arcite. But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte, Which a miracle ther bifel anon. What can now faire Venus doon above? What seith she now? what dooth this quene of love? But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, Til that hir teres in the listes fille; She seyde: ‘I am ashamed, doutelees.’ Saturnus seyde: ‘Doghter, hold thy pees. Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone, And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.’ The trompes, with the loude minstralcye, The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and crye, Been in hir wele for Ioye of daun Arcite. But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte, Which a miracle ther bifel anon.

Original Text

Modern Text

Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, That moot namore goon agayn to fighte? And whan that Theseus had seyn this sighte, Unto the folk that foghten thus echoon He cryde, ‘Ho! namore, for it is doon! I wol be trewe Iuge, and no partye. Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye, That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.’ Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne For Ioye of this, so loude and heigh with-alle, It semed that the listes sholde falle. Who sorweth now but woful Palamoun, That moot namore goon agayn to fighte? And whan that Theseus had seyn this sighte, Unto the folk that foghten thus echoon He cryde, ‘Ho! namore, for it is doon! I wol be trewe Iuge, and no partye. Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelye, That by his fortune hath hir faire y-wonne.’ Anon ther is a noyse of peple bigonne For Ioye of this, so loude and heigh with-alle, It semed that the listes sholde falle.
What can now faire Venus doon above? What seith she now? what dooth this quene of love? But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, Til that hir teres in the listes fille; She seyde: ‘I am ashamed, doutelees.’ Saturnus seyde: ‘Doghter, hold thy pees. Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone, And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.’ The trompes, with the loude minstralcye, The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and crye, Been in hir wele for Ioye of daun Arcite. But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte, Which a miracle ther bifel anon. What can now faire Venus doon above? What seith she now? what dooth this quene of love? But wepeth so, for wanting of hir wille, Til that hir teres in the listes fille; She seyde: ‘I am ashamed, doutelees.’ Saturnus seyde: ‘Doghter, hold thy pees. Mars hath his wille, his knight hath al his bone, And, by myn heed, thou shalt ben esed sone.’ The trompes, with the loude minstralcye, The heraudes, that ful loude yolle and crye, Been in hir wele for Ioye of daun Arcite. But herkneth me, and stinteth now a lyte, Which a miracle ther bifel anon.