Page:The Canterbury tales of Geoffrey Chaucer.djvu/52

 stint of Palamon a little and let him dwell silently in his prison, and I will tell forth of Arcite.

When Arcite was come to Thebes, full oft a day he swooned ; and, shortly to conclude, so much sorrow had never creature that is or shall be while the world may last. His sleep, his meat, his drink is bereft him, that he waxed lean and dry as a stalk; his eyes hollow and grisly to see, his hue yellow and pale as cold ashes, and ever he was solitary and moaning all the night, and if he heard song or instrument of music, then would he weep and might not refrain; so feeble were his spirits and low and so changed that no man knew his speech or voice. And in his acts he fared not only like the lover's malady of Eros, but for all the world like madness engendered of melancholy humour in the cell of fantasy in his brain. And, shortly, all was turned upside-down, both habit and disposition of this woeful lover Dan Arcite.

Why should I endite of his woe all day? When a year or two he had endured this cruel torment, upon a night as he lay in sleep, him seemed how the winged god Mercury stood before him and bade him be merry. His staff of sleep he bore upright in his hand, and wore a hat upon his bright hair, and seemed as when he charmed Argus asleep; and said to him thus: "Thou shalt fare to Athens,—there an end of thy woe is decreed." At that Arcite started up. "Now truly, whatever betide," quoth he, "I will to Athens, nor will I spare for the dread of death to look upon my lady whom I love and serve ; in her presence I care not