Baba Brinkman - The Knight's Tale (Scene 3) lyrics

While the knights were gone away Theseus, to accommodate Their combat, paid uncommon wages To his most accomplished masons Who patiently went on to make A theatre so strong and great With marble carvings on the gate That all who looked upon the place Did so with an astonished face So much that structure shone with grace As did the Duke, whose honoured state Demanded that he dominate Now, on the long awaited day That they'd agreed upon in May Arcite and Palamon did make Their somber way there to exonerate Their honour and confront their fate Early Palamon did wake that day And went to pray and pay respects at The statue of Venus they'd erected Standing in a temple decked with Likenesses of all the reckless Souls who love had misdirected Here's Palamon's prayer to Venus: “Venus, I've come to ask if we Might declare war on chastity! My love is near capacity And Emilye just laughs at me Let me posses her pa**ively Or let me die disastrously!” And at these fervent words he Was a**ured that she had heard his plea For currently he was unnerved to see The statue of her stir to re- Assure him he deserved to be Unburdened, free of urgency And as her faithful servant he Inferred from these occurrences he Was meant to be the first to see His Emilye no virgin be Palamon returned with glee So sure was he that worthy Venus Had averted the emergency Emilye then went to see Diane and prayed, and gave some words to Try and save her maiden virtue Here's Emilye's prayer to Diana the goddess of chastity: “Diane, you know that I am wild; I have no wish to be defiled By the hand of man, or got with child Therefore, I pray, be mild; Don't let my honour be beguiled!” The altar fires burning, in plain English At her pious yearning were extinguished Emilye, unsinged, just stared with dread As Diane reached out her hand, and there she bled Upon her servant's weary head; The blood of virgins, cherry-red “Let it now be clearly said You will soon see your marriage bed!” In response to this rejection Emilye asked a simple question: “Well then what good is your protection If I fall prey to some erection?” This was indeed a harsh defeat For Emilye, both stark and bleak But rather let me start to speak Of the brave-hearted Arcite Who laid himself so artfully To pray for help at Mars' feet Here's Arcite's prayer to Mars: “Strong God, in this degree I know you know the mysteries Of love, and my sad history In spite of all my misery My love no pity gives to me; Therefore, if I am fit to be Your knight, grant me this victory!” At this, the statue ripped free From its foundations viciously And said: “Since you give to me Such devotion, it's agreed Soon I shall grant this to thee!” Now the gods, who must be honest Had in their wisdom justly promised Arcite, here perhaps the strongest Triumph in the fight, along with Palamon, no doubt the fondest True love, as we see in sonnets I now shall tell you straight how on this Day in May it was accomplished Theseus, who was provider Of the venue, and presider Over it, was seated higher Where his Queen by all was seen With Emilye beside her Arcite, a worthy fighter Attacked his brother like a tiger And Palamon, alike a lion With equal fierceness did defy him The first, though not for lack of tryin' Could no fatal blow get by him But then, to Palamon's poor luck Arcite's knight behind him snuck And stuck a spear into his gut; Though far from mortal was the cut It was enough; Arcite struck And Palamon, too hurt to duck Was knocked down, and dropped in shock Onto the rocky ground Not a sound Nor any talk was found among the crowd ‘Til Theseus declared aloud: “Arcite is the victor proud And Emilye, as I avowed To thee shall now be well-endowed!” Arcite's happiness exploded In him, and he rose and showed it As above his foe he gloated Crowed and boasted and show-boated ‘Til the Gods were overloaded With his pride, and so they smote it; Arcite, with a blow demoted Fell onto his dome and broke it His sorrow overflowed there; dying He pronounced his woes, where crying Showed he'd go with no denying That his soul was slowly rising And he left, while still professing Love, and gave them both his blessing While requesting Emilye to be accepting Since he would in d**h be resting Of Palamon, the next best thing Then back his broken head he laid And gave his final spoken praise: “Mercy, Emilye!” The gentle maid then in the ways Of Athens, set the corpse ablaze And scorched away the source that makes A mortal shape, and prayed his soul Its course through heaven's portal take In order to at least dispel The sorrow which in Greece did swell The moment that Arcite fell Theseus released his will: “Why should his wife and cousin grieve? Arcite is gone, yet doesn't he Deserve to see his love in thee Alive, from up above, in peace? Thus Palamon and Emilye Shall wed, if they my judgement heed!” And since his wishes carried weight The two, with kisses, married straight And Palamon, though very late Did wear his bliss with a merry face ‘Cause he could barely wait To take away her cherry state; And Emilye took care she made A loving wife, and rarely gave Advice and, looking fair, obeyed; And nothing more is there to say About this strange affair, good day!