Lo the oke that hath so long a norishing Fro the time that it ginneth first to spring, And hath so long a lif, as ye may see, Yet at the laste wasted is the tree. Considereth eke, how that the harde stone Under our feet, on which we trede and gon, It wasteth as it lieth by the way; The brode river some time waxeth dry; The grete tounes see we wane and wende; Then may ye see that all things hath an end. Of man and woman see we wel also, That nedes in on of the termes two, That is to sayn, in youth or elles age, He mote be ded, the king as shall a page; Som on his bed, some on the depe see, Som in the large field, as ye may see; Ther helpeth nought, all goth that ilke wey; Than may I say that alle things mote dey. What maketh this but Jupiter the king? The which is prince, and cause of alle thing, Converting alle unto his propre will, From which it is derived, soth to telle. And here againes no creature on live Of no degree availeth for to strive. Then is it wisdom, as it thinketh me, To maken virtue of necessite, And take it wel, that we may not eschewe, And namely that to us all is dewe. And who so grutcheth ought, he doth folie, And rebel is to him that all may gie. And certainly a man hath most honour To dien in his excellence and flour, Whan he is siker of his goode name. Than hath he don his friend, ne him, no shame; And glader ought his friend been of his deth Whan with honour is yelden up his breath, Than whan his name appalled is for age; For all foryetten is his vassalage Than is it best, as for a worthy fame, To dien when a man is best of name. The contrary of all this is wilfulnesse. Why grutchen we? Why have we heavinesse, That good Arcite, of chivalry the flour, Departed is, with dutee and honour, Out of this foule prison of this lif? Why grutchen here his cosin and his wif Of his welfare, that loven him so wel? Can he hem thank? Nay, God wot, never a del, That both his soule, and eke himself offend, And yet they mow hir lustres not amend. What may I conclude of this longe serie, But after sorwe I rede us to be merie, And thanken Jupiter of all his grace, And er that we departen from this place, I rede that we make of sorwes two O parfit joye lasting evermo; And loketh now wher most sorwe is herein, Ther wol I firste amenden and begin. Sister (quod he) this is my full assent, With all the avis here of my parlement, That gentil Palamon, your owen knight, That serveth you with will, and herte and might, And ever hath done, sin ye first him knew, That ye shall of your grace upon him vew, And taken him for husbond and for lord: Lene me your hand, for this is oure accord.