No Fear Literature: The Canterbury Tales: The Knight’s Tale, Part Two Page 9

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Original Text	Modern Text
And whan this duk was come unto the launde, Under the sonne he loketh, and anon He was war of Arcite and Palamon, That foughten breme, as it were bores two; The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro So hidously, that with the leeste strook It seemed as it wolde felle an ook; But what they were, no-thing he ne woot. This duk his courser with his spores smoot, And at a stert he was bitwix hem two, And pulled out a swerd and cryed, ‘ho! Namore, up peyne of lesing of your heed. By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed, That smyteth any strook, that I may seen! But telleth me what mister men ye been, That been so hardy for to fighten here With-outen Iuge or other officere, As it were in a listes royally?’	And whan this duk was come unto the launde, Under the sonne he loketh, and anon He was war of Arcite and Palamon, That foughten breme, as it were bores two; The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro So hidously, that with the leeste strook It seemed as it wolde felle an ook; But what they were, no-thing he ne woot. This duk his courser with his spores smoot, And at a stert he was bitwix hem two, And pulled out a swerd and cryed, ‘ho! Namore, up peyne of lesing of your heed. By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed, That smyteth any strook, that I may seen! But telleth me what mister men ye been, That been so hardy for to fighten here With-outen Iuge or other officere, As it were in a listes royally?’
This Palamon answerde hastily, And seyde: ‘sire, what nedeth wordes mo? We have the deeth deserved bothe two. Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves, That been encombred of our owne lyves; And as thou art a rightful lord and Iuge, Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge, But slee me first, for seynte charitee; But slee my felawe eek as wel as me. Or slee him first; for, though thou knowe it lyte, This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, That fro thy lond is banished on his heed, For which he hath deserved to be deed. For this is he that cam unto thy gate, And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. Thus hath he Iaped thee ful many a yeer, And thou has maked him thy chief squyer; And this is he that loveth Emelye. For sith the day is come that I shal dye, I make pleynly my confessioun, That I am thilke woful Palamoun, That hath thy prison broken wikkedly. I am thy mortal fo, and it am I That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, That I wol dye present in hir sighte. Therfore I axe deeth and my Iuwyse; But slee my felawe in the same wyse, For bothe han we deserved to be slayn.’	This Palamon answerde hastily, And seyde: ‘sire, what nedeth wordes mo? We have the deeth deserved bothe two. Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves, That been encombred of our owne lyves; And as thou art a rightful lord and Iuge, Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge, But slee me first, for seynte charitee; But slee my felawe eek as wel as me. Or slee him first; for, though thou knowe it lyte, This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, That fro thy lond is banished on his heed, For which he hath deserved to be deed. For this is he that cam unto thy gate, And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. Thus hath he Iaped thee ful many a yeer, And thou has maked him thy chief squyer; And this is he that loveth Emelye. For sith the day is come that I shal dye, I make pleynly my confessioun, That I am thilke woful Palamoun, That hath thy prison broken wikkedly. I am thy mortal fo, and it am I That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, That I wol dye present in hir sighte. Therfore I axe deeth and my Iuwyse; But slee my felawe in the same wyse, For bothe han we deserved to be slayn.’

Original Text	Modern Text
And whan this duk was come unto the launde, Under the sonne he loketh, and anon He was war of Arcite and Palamon, That foughten breme, as it were bores two; The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro So hidously, that with the leeste strook It seemed as it wolde felle an ook; But what they were, no-thing he ne woot. This duk his courser with his spores smoot, And at a stert he was bitwix hem two, And pulled out a swerd and cryed, ‘ho! Namore, up peyne of lesing of your heed. By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed, That smyteth any strook, that I may seen! But telleth me what mister men ye been, That been so hardy for to fighten here With-outen Iuge or other officere, As it were in a listes royally?’	And whan this duk was come unto the launde, Under the sonne he loketh, and anon He was war of Arcite and Palamon, That foughten breme, as it were bores two; The brighte swerdes wenten to and fro So hidously, that with the leeste strook It seemed as it wolde felle an ook; But what they were, no-thing he ne woot. This duk his courser with his spores smoot, And at a stert he was bitwix hem two, And pulled out a swerd and cryed, ‘ho! Namore, up peyne of lesing of your heed. By mighty Mars, he shal anon be deed, That smyteth any strook, that I may seen! But telleth me what mister men ye been, That been so hardy for to fighten here With-outen Iuge or other officere, As it were in a listes royally?’
This Palamon answerde hastily, And seyde: ‘sire, what nedeth wordes mo? We have the deeth deserved bothe two. Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves, That been encombred of our owne lyves; And as thou art a rightful lord and Iuge, Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge, But slee me first, for seynte charitee; But slee my felawe eek as wel as me. Or slee him first; for, though thou knowe it lyte, This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, That fro thy lond is banished on his heed, For which he hath deserved to be deed. For this is he that cam unto thy gate, And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. Thus hath he Iaped thee ful many a yeer, And thou has maked him thy chief squyer; And this is he that loveth Emelye. For sith the day is come that I shal dye, I make pleynly my confessioun, That I am thilke woful Palamoun, That hath thy prison broken wikkedly. I am thy mortal fo, and it am I That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, That I wol dye present in hir sighte. Therfore I axe deeth and my Iuwyse; But slee my felawe in the same wyse, For bothe han we deserved to be slayn.’	This Palamon answerde hastily, And seyde: ‘sire, what nedeth wordes mo? We have the deeth deserved bothe two. Two woful wrecches been we, two caytyves, That been encombred of our owne lyves; And as thou art a rightful lord and Iuge, Ne yeve us neither mercy ne refuge, But slee me first, for seynte charitee; But slee my felawe eek as wel as me. Or slee him first; for, though thou knowe it lyte, This is thy mortal fo, this is Arcite, That fro thy lond is banished on his heed, For which he hath deserved to be deed. For this is he that cam unto thy gate, And seyde, that he highte Philostrate. Thus hath he Iaped thee ful many a yeer, And thou has maked him thy chief squyer; And this is he that loveth Emelye. For sith the day is come that I shal dye, I make pleynly my confessioun, That I am thilke woful Palamoun, That hath thy prison broken wikkedly. I am thy mortal fo, and it am I That loveth so hote Emelye the brighte, That I wol dye present in hir sighte. Therfore I axe deeth and my Iuwyse; But slee my felawe in the same wyse, For bothe han we deserved to be slayn.’