The Canterbury Tales: The Knight's Tale
Swelleth the brest of Arcite, and the soore
Encresseth at his herte moore and moore.
The clothered blood for any lechecraft
Corrupteth, and is in his bouk ylaft.
The pipes of his longes gonne to swelle,
And every lacerte in his brest adoun
Is shent with venym and corrupcioun.
Shrighte Emelye, and howleth Palamon,
And Theseus his suster took anon
Swownynge, and bar hir fro the corps away.
What helpeth it to tarien forth the day
To tellen how she weep bothe eve and morwe?
For in swich cas wommen have swich sorwe
Whan that hir housbond is from hem ago,
That for the moore part they sorwen so,
Or ellis fallen in swich maladye,
That at the laste certeinly they dye.
So greet a wepyng was ther noon, certayn,
Whan Ector was ybroght al fressh yslayn
To Troye. Allas, the pitee that was ther,
Cracchynge of chekes, rentynge eek of heer.