The sympathy, however, remains with Arcite. His character is beautifully developed. It is not inconsistent with his power of self-control and brave heart, noble throughout, that he is able to make such a sacrifice on his death-bed as to give Emelye to Palamon. It is a sign of forgiveness of Palamon, who, at the point of death, showed no such generosity; and the greatness of the sacrifice must be estimated by remembering the mediæval view of love and love-matters. I do not think that Palamon could have done that, any more than he could have concealed his identity in Theseus’ court.[112] The Friar’s Tale. This worthy Friar (Chaucer says), as he rode along with the rest of the company, kept looking askance at the Summoner, whom he evidently regarded as an enemy,[113] and though, as yet, for common civility’s sake, he had not said anything to him which could cause a regular quarrel, it was quite plain there was little love lost between them. When his turn came to tell his story, he saw a chance of annoying the Summoner, which he didn’t mean to lose; and, disagreeable as the Summoner was, it is not very surprising. But if it like to this companye, I wil yow of a Sompnour telle a game; joke Pardé, ye may wel knowe by the name, That of a Sompnour may no good be sayd; I pray that noon of yow be evel apayd. disappointed “But if agreeable to the company, I’ll tell you of a Summoner such a game Belike you may imagine from the name, That of a Summoner can no good be said. I pray that none of you be ill repaid!” The Summoner, who was inoffensive enough just then, whatever he might have been at other times, was not very well pleased at having his trade spoken of in such terms, and felt that it was all a hit at himself; and mine host, to prevent further squabbling, breaks in with--“Now, Friar, it is not very courteous to speak at a companion in that style; a man of your calling ought to know better:-- In companye we wol have no debaat: Telleth your tale, and let the Sompnour be. tell Nay, quoth the Sompnour, let him saye to me What so him list; whan it cometh to my lot By God I schal him quyten every grot. requite, groat I schal him telle which a gret honour great Is to ben a fals flateryng lymytour! be, false “In company we will have no debate, Tell on your tale, and let the Summoner be.” “Nay,” cried the Summoner, “let him say of me What he may choose. When my turn comes, good lack! All he has said I’ll pay him fairly back! I’ll tell him what a pretty trade is his, Beggar and flattering limitor that he is!” Mine host cries out, “Peace, no more of this!” and begs the Friar to go on. * * * * * Once upon a time there was an archdeacon in my country who punished with great severity all kinds of misdoings.