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Infinite were the sorrows and the tears Of all old folk and folk of tender years Throughout the town, at death of this Theban; For him there wept the child and wept the man; So great a weeping was not, 'tis certain, When Hector was brought back, but newly slain, To Troy. Alas, the sorrow that was there! Tearing of cheeks and rending out of hair. "Oh why will you be dead," these women cry, "Who had of gold enough, and Emily?" No man might comfort then Duke Theseus, Excepting his old father, AEgeus, Who knew this world's mutations, and men's own. Since he had seen them changing up and down, Joy after woe, and woe from happiness: He showed them, by example, the process. "Just as there never died a man," quoth he, "But he had lived on earth in some degree, Just so there never lived a man," he said, "In all this world, but must be sometime dead. This world is but a thoroughfare of woe, And we are pilgrims passing to and fro; Death is the end of every worldly sore." And after this, he told them yet much more To that effect, all wisely to exhort The people that they should find some comfort. Duke Theseus now considered and with care What place of burial he should prepare For good Arcita, as it best might be,

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And one most worthy of his high degree. And at the last concluded, hereupon, That where at first Arcita and Palamon Had fought for love, with no man else between, There, in that very grove, so sweet and green, Where he mused on his amorous desires Complaining of love's hot and flaming fires, He'd make a pyre and have the funeral Accomplished there, and worthily in all. And so he gave command to hack and hew The ancient oaks, and lay them straight and true In split lengths that would kindle well and burn. His officers, with sure swift feet, they turn The Canterbury Tales The Canterbury Tales 59And ride away to do his whole intent. And after this Duke Theseus straightway sent For a great bier, and had it all o'erspread With cloth of gold, the richest that he had. Arcita clad he, too, in cloth of gold; White gloves were on his hands where they did fold; Upon his head a crown of laurel green, And near his hand a sword both bright and keen. Then, having bared the dead face on the bier, The duke so wept, 'twas pitiful to hear. And, so that folk might see him, one and all, When it was day he brought them to the hall, Which echoed of their wailing cries anon. Then came this woeful Theban, Plamon, With fluttery beard and matted, ashstrewn hair, All in black clothes wet with his tears; and there, Surpassing all in weeping, Emily, The most affected of the company. And so that every several rite should be Noble and rich, and suiting his degree, Duke Theseus commanded that they bring Three horses, mailed in steel all glittering, And covered with Arcita's armour bright. Upon these stallions, which were large and white, There rode three men, whereof one bore the shield. And one the spear he'd known so well to wield; The third man bore his Turkish bow, nor less Of burnished gold the quiver than harness; And forth they slowly rode, with mournful cheer, Toward that grove, as you shall further hear. The noblest Greeks did gladly volunteer To bear upon their shoulders that great bier, With measured pace and eyes gone red and wet, Through all the city, by the wide main street, Which was all spread with black, and, wondrous high, Covered with this same cloth were houses nigh.