Thou mightest weene*, that this Palamon *think In fighting were as a wood* lion, *mad And as a cruel tiger was Arcite: As wilde boars gan they together smite, That froth as white as foam, *for ire wood*. *mad with anger* Up to the ancle fought they in their blood. And in this wise I let them fighting dwell, And forth I will of Theseus you tell. The Destiny, minister general, That executeth in the world o’er all The purveyance*, that God hath seen beforn; *foreordination So strong it is, that though the world had sworn The contrary of a thing by yea or nay, Yet some time it shall fallen on a day That falleth not eft* in a thousand year. *again For certainly our appetites here, Be it of war, or peace, or hate, or love, All is this ruled by the sight* above. *eye, intelligence, power This mean I now by mighty Theseus, That for to hunten is so desirous — And namely* the greate hart in May — *especially That in his bed there dawneth him no day That he n’is clad, and ready for to ride With hunt and horn, and houndes him beside. For in his hunting hath he such delight, That it is all his joy and appetite To be himself the greate harte’s bane* *destruction For after Mars he serveth now Diane. Clear was the day, as I have told ere this, And Theseus, with alle joy and bliss, With his Hippolyta, the faire queen, And Emily, y-clothed all in green, On hunting be they ridden royally. And to the grove, that stood there faste by, In which there was an hart, as men him told, Duke Theseus the straighte way doth hold, And to the laund* he rideth him full right, *plain <33> There was the hart y-wont to have his flight, And over a brook, and so forth on his way. This Duke will have a course at him or tway With houndes, such as him lust* to command. *pleased And when this Duke was come to the laund, Under the sun he looked, and anon He was ware of Arcite and Palamon, That foughte breme*, as it were bulles two. *fiercely The brighte swordes wente to and fro So hideously, that with the leaste stroke It seemed that it woulde fell an oak, But what they were, nothing yet he wote*. *knew This Duke his courser with his spurres smote, *And at a start* he was betwixt them two, *suddenly* And pulled out a sword and cried, “Ho! No more, on pain of losing of your head. By mighty Mars, he shall anon be dead That smiteth any stroke, that I may see! But tell to me what mister* men ye be, *manner, kind <34> That be so hardy for to fighte here Withoute judge or other officer, As though it were in listes royally. <35> This Palamon answered hastily, And saide: “Sir, what needeth wordes mo’? We have the death deserved bothe two, Two woful wretches be we, and caitives,