he wote. This Duke his courser with his spurrës smote, And at a start he was betwixt them two, 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, That be so hardy for to fightë here Withoutë judge or other officer, As though it were in listës royally.”
This Palamon answered hastily, And saidë: “Sir, what needeth wordës mo’? We have the death deserved bothë two, Two woful wretches be we, and caitíves, That be accumbered of our own lives, And as thou art a rightful lord and judge, So give us neither mercy nor refuge. And slay me first, for saintë charity, But slay my fellow eke as well as me. Or slay him first; for, though thou know it lite, This is thy mortal foe, this is Arcite, That from thy land is banisht on his head, For which he hath deserved to be dead. For this is he that came unto thy gate And saidë, that he hightë Philostrate. Thus hath he japed thee full many year, And thou hast made of him thy chief esquiér; And this is he, that loveth Emily. For since the day is come that I shall die I makë pleinly my confessión, That I am thilkë woful Palamon, That hath thy prison broken wickedly. I am thy mortal foe, and it am I That so hot loveth Emily the bright, That I would die here present in her sight. Therefore I askë death and my jewise. But slay my fellow eke in the same wise, For both we have deserved to be slain.”