O god of love, that hast no charity! O realm, that wilt not bear a rival nigh! Truly ’tis said, that love and lordship ne’er Will be contented only with a share. Arcite and Palamon have found it so. Arcite is ridden soon the town unto: And, on the morrow, ere the sun was high, Two harness hath he brought forth privily, Meet and sufficing for the lonely fight Out in the battle-field mid daisies white. And riding onward solitarily All this good armour on his horse bore he: And at the time and place which they had set Ere long Arcite and Palamon are met. To change began the colour of each face-- Ev’n as the hunter’s, in the land of Thrace, When at a gap he standeth with a spear, In the wild hunt of lion or of bear, And heareth him come rushing through the wood, Crashing the branches in his madden’d mood, And think’th, “Here com’th my mortal enemy, Now without fail or he or I must die; For either I must slay him at the gap, Or he must slay me if there be mishap.” So fared the knights so far as either knew, When, seeing each, each deepen’d in his hue. There was no greeting--there was no ‘Good day,’ But mute, without a single word, straightway Each one in arming turn’d to help the other, As like a friend as though he were his brother. And after that, with lances sharp and strong, They dash’d upon each other--lief and long. You might have fancied that this Palamon, Fighting so blindly, were a mad liòn, And like a cruel tiger was Arcite. As two wild boars did they together smite, That froth as white as foam for rage--they stood And fought until their feet were red with blood. Thus far awhile I leave them to their fight. And now what Theseus did I will recite. Then something happened that neither of them expected. It was a bright clear day, and Theseus, hunting with his fair queen Ipolita, and Emelye, clothed all in green, came riding by after the hart, with all the dogs around them; and as they followed the hart, suddenly Theseus looked out of the dazzle of the sun, and saw Arcite and Palamon in sharp fight, like two bulls for fury. The bright swords flashed to and fro so hideously that it seemed as though their smallest blows would fell an oak. But the duke knew not who they were that fought.[92] Theseus smote his spurs into his horse, and galloped in between the knights, and, drawing his sword, cried, “Ho![93] No more, on pain of death! By mighty Mars, he dies who strikes a blow in my presence!” Then Theseus asked them what manner of men they were, who dared to fight there, without judge or witness, as though it were in royal lists?[94] You may imagine the two men turning on Theseus, breathless and bloody with fight, weary with anger, and their vengeance still unslaked.