Whan that hir names red were everich on, That in her nombre gile were ther non, Tho were the gates shette, and cried was loude, Do now your devoir, yonge knightes proude. The heraudes left hir priking up and doun. Now ringin trompes loude, and clarioun. Ther is no more to say, but este and west In goth the speres sadly in the rest; In goth the sharpe spore into the side; Ther see men who can juste and who can ride Ther shiveren shaftes upon sheldes thicke; He feleth thurgh the herte-spone the pricke: Up springen speres, twenty foot on highte; Out gon the swerdes as the silver brighte: The helmes they to-hewen and to-shrede; Out brest the blod with sterne stremes rede: With mighty maces, the bones they to-breste; He thurgh the thickest of the throng gan threste: There stomblen stedes strong, and doun goth all; He rolleth under foot as doth a ball: He foineth on his foo with a tronchoun, And he him hurtleth with his hors adoun: He thurgh the body is hurt, and sith ytake Maugre his hed, and brought unto the stake, As forword was, right ther he must abide; Another lad is on that other side: And somtime doth hem Theseus to reste, Hem to refresh, and drinken if hem lest. Ful oft a day han thilke Thebanes two Togeder met and wrought eche other wo: Unhorsed hath eche other of hem twey. Ther n'as no tigre in the vale of Galaphey, Whan that hire whelpe is stole whan it is lite, So cruel on the hunt as is Arcite For jalous herte upon this Palamon: Ne in Belmarie ther n'is so fell leon That hunted is, or for his hunger wood, Ne of his prey desireth so the blood, As Palamon to sleen his foo Arcite: The jalous strokes on hir helmes bite; Out renneth blood on both hir sides rede. Somtime an end there is of every dede; For, er the sonne unto the reste went, The strong King Emetrius gan hent This Palamon, as he fought with Arcite, And made his swerd depe in his flesh to bite; And by the force of twenty is he take Unyolden, and ydrawen to the stake: And in the rescous of this Palamon The stronge King Licurge is borne adoun; And King Emetrius, for all his strengthe, Is borne out of his sadel a swerdes lengthe, So hitte him Palamon or he were take: But all for nought, he was brought to the stake: His hardy herte might him helpen naught; He moste abiden whan that he was caught, By force, and eke by composition. Who sorweth now but woful Palamon, That moste no more gon again to fight? And whan that Theseus had seen that sight, Unto the folk that foughten thus ech on, He cried, Ho![1] no more, for it is don. I wol be true juge, and not partie. Arcite of Thebes shal have Emelie, That by his fortune hath hire fayre ywonne. Anon ther is a noise of peple begonne