The Canterbury Tales · The Knight’s Tale 277 (8/8)

When they were set,872 and hush’d was all the place

And Theseus abided873 had a space

Ere any word came from his wisë breast

His eyen set he there as was his lest,874

And with a sad viságe he sighed still,

And after that right thus he said his will.

“The firstë mover of the cause above

When he first made the fairë chain of love,

Great was th’ effect, and high was his intent;

Well wist he why, and what thereof he meant:

For with that fairë chain of love he bond875

The fire, the air, the water, and the lond

In certain bondës, that they may not flee:876

That samë prince and mover eke,” quoth he,

“Hath stablish’d, in this wretched world adown,

Certain of dayës and duratión

To all that are engender’d in this place,

Over the whichë day they may not pace,877

All878 may they yet their dayës well abridge.

There needeth no authority to allëge

For it is proved by experience;

But that me list declarë my senténce.879

Then may men by this order well discern,

That thilkë880 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 beginning

Of no partie nor cantle881 of a thing,

But of a thing that perfect is and stable,

Descending so, till it be corruptáble.

And therefore of his wisë purveyance882

He hath so well beset883 his ordinance,

That species of things and progressións

Shallen endurë by successións,

And not etern, withouten any lie:

This mayst thou understand and see at eye.

Lo th’ oak, that hath so long a nourishing

From 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 hardë stone

Under our feet, on which we tread and gon,884

Yet wasteth, as it lieth by the way.

The broadë river some time waxeth drey.885

The greatë townës see we wane and wend.886

Then may ye see that all things have an end.

Of man and woman see we well also,

That needës in one of the termës 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 deepë sea,

Some in the largë field, as ye may see:

There helpeth nought, all go that ilkë887 way:

Then may I say that allë thing must die.

What maketh this but Jupiter the king?

The which is prince, and cause of allë thing,

Converting all unto his proper will,

From which it is derived, sooth to tell

And 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,888

And namëly what to us all is due.

And whoso grudgeth889 ought, he doth folly,

And rebel is to him that all may gie.890

And certainly a man hath most honoúr

To dien in his excellence and flower,

When he is sicker891 of his goodë name.

Then hath he done his friend, nor him,892 no shame

And gladder ought his friend be of his death,

When with honoúr is yielded up his breath,

Than when his name appalled is for age;893

For all forgotten is his vassalage.894

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 grudgë we, why have we heaviness,

That good Arcite, of chivalry the flower,

Departed is, with duty and honoúr,

Out of this foulë prison of this life?

Why grudgë here his cousin and his wife

Of his welfare, that loved him so well?

Can he them thank?⁠—nay, God wot, never a deal⁠—895

That both his soul and eke themselves offend,896

And yet they may their lustës not amend.897

What may I cónclude of this longë série,898

But after sorrow I rede899 us to be merry,

And thankë Jupiter for all his grace?

And ere that we departë from this place,

I redë that we make of sorrows two

One perfect joyë 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,900

And take him for your husband and your lord:

Lend me your hand, for this is our accord.

Let see901 now of your womanly pity.

He is a kingë’s brother’s son, pardie.902

And though he were a poorë bachelére,

Since he hath served you so many a year,

And had for you so great adversity,

It mustë be considered, ’lieveth me.903

For gentle mercy oweth to passen right.”904

Then said he thus to Palamon the knight;

“I trow there needeth little sermoning

To makë you assentë to this thing.

Come near, and take your lady by the hand.”

Betwixtë them was made anon the band,

That hight matrimony or marriáge,

By all the counsel of the baronage.

And thus with allë bliss and melody

Hath Palamon y-wedded Emily.

And God, that all this widë 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;905

And Emily him loves so tenderly,

And he her serveth all so gentilly,

That never was there wordë them between

Of jealousy, nor of none other teen.906

Thus endeth Palamon and Emily

And God save all this fairë company.