If that you liketh, take it for the beste, That everich of you shal gon wher him lest, Freely, withouten raunson or dangere; And this day fifty wekes, ferre ne nere, Everich of you shal bring an hundred knightes, Armed for the listes up at all rightes, Alle redy to darrein hire by bataille. And this behete I you withouten faille, Upon my trouth, and as I am a knight, That whether of you bothe hath that might, This is to sayn, that whether he or thou May with his hundred, as I spake of now, Sle his contrary, or out of listes drive, Him shall I yeven Emelie to wive, To whom that fortune yeveth so fayr a grace. The listes shal I maken in this place; And God so wisly on my soule rewe, As I shal even juge ben, and trewe. Ye shal non other ende with me maken, That on of you ne shall be ded or taken; And if you thinketh this is wel ysaid, Saith your avis, and holdeth you apaid. This is your ende, and your conclusion. Who loketh lightly now but Palamon? Who springeth up for joye but Arcite? Who coud it tell, or who coud it endite, The joye that is maked in the place, Whan Theseus hath don so fayre a grace? But doun on knees went every manere wight, And thanked him with all hir hertes might, And namely these Thebanes often sith. And thus with good hope and with herte blith They taken hir leve, and homeward gan they ride To Thebes with his olde walles wide. I trowe men wolde deme it negligence If I foryete to tellen the dispence Of Theseus, that goth so besily To maken up the listes really, That swiche a noble theatre as it was I dare wel sayn in alle this world ther n'as. The circuite a mile was aboute, Walled of stone, and diched all withoute; Round was the shape, in manere of a compas, Ful of degrees, the hight of sixty pas, That, whan a man was set on o degree, He letted not his felaw for to see. Estward ther stood a gate of marbel white, Westward right swiche another in the opposite; And shortly to concluden, swiche a place Was never in erth, in so litel a space: For in the lond ther n'as no craftes man That geometrie or arsemetrike can, Ne portreiour, ne kerver of images, That Theseus ne yaf him mete and wages, The theatre for to maken and devise. And for to don his rite and sacrifice, He estward hath upon the gate above, In worship of Venus, goddesse of Love, Don make an auter, and an oratorie; And westward, in the minde and in memorie Of Mars, he maked hath right swich another, That coste largely of gold a fother: And northward, in a touret on the wall, Of alabastre white, and red corall, An oratorie, riche for to see, In worship of Diane of chastitee, Hath Theseus don wrought in noble wise. But yet had I foryetten to devise The noble kerving, and the portreitures,