The Project Gutenberg EBook of Troilus and Criseyde, by Geoffrey Chaucer

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Title: Troilus and Criseyde

Author: Geoffrey Chaucer

Release Date: July 12, 2008 [EBook #257]

Last Updated: January 26, 2013

Language: English

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Produced by Douglas B. Killings, Diane M. Brendan, and David Widger

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus

The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1

That was the king Priamus sone of Troye,

In lovinge, how his aventures fellen

Fro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye,

My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5

Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte

Thise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte!

To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,

Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne;

Help me, that am the sorwful instrument 10

That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne!

For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne,

A woful wight to han a drery fere,

And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere.

For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve, 15

Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse,

Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve,

So fer am I fro his help in derknesse;

But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse

To any lover, and his cause avayle, 20

Have he my thank, and myn be this travayle!

But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse,

If any drope of pitee in yow be,

Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse

That ye han felt, and on the adversitee 25

Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye

Han felt that Love dorste yow displese;

Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an ese.

And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas

Of Troilus, as ye may after here, 30

That love hem bringe in hevene to solas,

And eek for me preyeth to god so dere,

That I have might to shewe, in som manere,

Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure,

In Troilus unsely aventure. 35

And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred

In love, that never nil recovered be,

And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred

Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she;

Thus biddeth god, for his benignitee, 40

So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace,

That been despeyred out of Loves grace.

And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese,

That god hem graunte ay good perseveraunce,

And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese, 45

That it to Love be worship and plesaunce.

For so hope I my soule best avaunce,

To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be,

And wryte hir wo, and live in charitee.

And for to have of hem compassioun 50

As though I were hir owene brother dere.

Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun,

For now wol I gon streight to my matere,

In whiche ye may the double sorwes here

Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde, 55

And how that she forsook him er she deyde.

It is wel wist, how that the Grekes stronge

In armes with a thousand shippes wente

To Troyewardes, and the citee longe

Assegeden neigh ten yeer er they stente, 60

And, in diverse wyse and oon entente,

The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne,

By Paris doon, they wroughten al hir peyne.

Now fil it so, that in the toun ther was

Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee, 65

A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas,

That in science so expert was, that he

Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be,

By answere of his god, that highte thus,

Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus. 70

So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge,

And eek by answere of this Appollo,

That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe,

Thorugh which that Troye moste been for-do,

He caste anoon out of the toun to go; 75

For wel wiste he, by sort, that Troye sholde

Destroyed ben, ye, wolde who-so nolde.

For which, for to departen softely

Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse,

And to the Grekes ost ful prively 80

He stal anoon; and they, in curteys wyse,

Hym deden bothe worship and servyse,

In trust that he hath conning hem to rede

In every peril which that is to drede.

The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed, 85

Thorugh al the toun, and generally was spoken,

That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed

With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken

On him that falsly hadde his feith so broken;

And seyden, he and al his kin at ones 90

Ben worthy for to brennen, fel and bones.

Now hadde Calkas left, in this meschaunce,

Al unwist of this false and wikked dede,

His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce,

For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede, 95

As she that niste what was best to rede;

For bothe a widowe was she, and allone

Of any freend to whom she dorste hir mone.

Criseyde was this lady name a-right;

As to my dome, in al Troyes citee 100

Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight

So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee,

That lyk a thing immortal semed she,

As doth an hevenish parfit creature,

That doun were sent in scorning of nature. 105

This lady, which that al-day herde at ere

Hir fadres shame, his falsnesse and tresoun,

Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere,

In widewes habit large of samit broun,

On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun; 110

With pitous voys, and tendrely wepinge,

His mercy bad, hir-selven excusinge.

Now was this Ector pitous of nature,

And saw that she was sorwfully bigoon,

And that she was so fair a creature; 115

Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon,

And seyde, `Lat your fadres treson goon

Forth with mischaunce, and ye your-self, in Ioye,

Dwelleth with us, whyl you good list, in Troye.

`And al thonour that men may doon yow have, 120

As ferforth as your fader dwelled here,

Ye shul han, and your body shal men save,

As fer as I may ought enquere or here.'

And she him thonked with ful humble chere,

And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille, 125

And took hir leve, and hoom, and held hir stille.

And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee

As to hir honour nede was to holde;

And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee,

Kepte hir estat, and bothe of yonge and olde 130

Ful wel beloved, and wel men of hir tolde.

But whether that she children hadde or noon,

I rede it naught; therfore I late it goon.

The thinges fellen, as they doon of werre,

Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte; 135

For som day boughten they of Troye it derre,

And eft the Grekes founden no thing softe

The folk of Troye; and thus fortune on-lofte,

And under eft, gan hem to wheelen bothe

After hir cours, ay whyl they were wrothe. 140

But how this toun com to destruccioun

Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle;

For it were a long digressioun

Fro my matere, and yow to longe dwelle.

But the Troyane gestes, as they felle, 145

In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dyte,

Who-so that can, may rede hem as they wryte.

But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten,

And hir citee bisegede al a-boute,

Hir olde usage wolde they not letten, 150

As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute;

But aldermost in honour, out of doute,

They hadde a relik hight Palladion,

That was hir trist a-boven everichon.

And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme 155

Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede

With newe grene, of lusty Ver the pryme,

And swote smellen floures whyte and rede,

In sondry wyses shewed, as I rede,

The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde, 160

Palladiones feste for to holde.

And to the temple, in al hir beste wyse,

In general, ther wente many a wight,

To herknen of Palladion servyse;

And namely, so many a lusty knight, 165

So many a lady fresh and mayden bright,

Ful wel arayed, bothe moste and leste,

Ye, bothe for the seson and the feste.

Among thise othere folk was Criseyda,

In widewes habite blak; but nathelees, 170

Right as our firste lettre is now an A,

In beautee first so stood she, makelees;

Hir godly looking gladede al the prees.

Nas never seyn thing to ben preysed derre,

Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre 175

As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everichoon

That hir behelden in hir blake wede;

And yet she stood ful lowe and stille alloon,

Bihinden othere folk, in litel brede,

And neigh the dore, ay under shames drede, 180

Simple of a-tyr, and debonaire of chere,

With ful assured loking and manere.

This Troilus, as he was wont to gyde

His yonge knightes, ladde hem up and doun

In thilke large temple on every syde, 185

Biholding ay the ladyes of the toun,

Now here, now there, for no devocioun

Hadde he to noon, to reven him his reste,

But gan to preyse and lakken whom him leste.

And in his walk ful fast he gan to wayten 190

If knight or squyer of his companye

Gan for to syke, or lete his eyen bayten

On any woman that he coude aspye;

He wolde smyle, and holden it folye,

And seye him thus, `god wot, she slepeth softe 195

For love of thee, whan thou tornest ful ofte!

`I have herd told, pardieux, of your livinge,

Ye lovers, and your lewede observaunces,

And which a labour folk han in winninge

Of love, and, in the keping, which doutaunces; 200

And whan your preye is lost, wo and penaunces;

O verrey foles! nyce and blinde be ye;

Ther nis not oon can war by other be.'

And with that word he gan cast up the browe,

Ascaunces, `Lo! is this nought wysly spoken?' 205

At which the god of love gan loken rowe

Right for despyt, and shoop for to ben wroken;

He kidde anoon his bowe nas not broken;

For sodeynly he hit him at the fulle;

And yet as proud a pekok can he pulle. 210

O blinde world, O blinde entencioun!

How ofte falleth al theffect contraire

Of surquidrye and foul presumpcioun;

For caught is proud, and caught is debonaire.

This Troilus is clomben on the staire, 215

And litel weneth that he moot descenden.

But al-day falleth thing that foles ne wenden.

As proude Bayard ginneth for to skippe

Out of the wey, so priketh him his corn,

Til he a lash have of the longe whippe, 220

Than thenketh he, `Though I praunce al biforn

First in the trays, ful fat and newe shorn,

Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe

I moot endure, and with my feres drawe.'

So ferde it by this fers and proude knight; 225

Though he a worthy kinges sone were,

And wende nothing hadde had swiche might

Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere,

Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere,

That he, that now was most in pryde above, 230

Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love.

For-thy ensample taketh of this man,

Ye wyse, proude, and worthy folkes alle,

To scornen Love, which that so sone can

The freedom of your hertes to him thralle; 235

For ever it was, and ever it shal bifalle,

That Love is he that alle thing may binde;

For may no man for-do the lawe of kinde.

That this be sooth, hath preved and doth yet;

For this trowe I ye knowen, alle or some, 240

Men reden not that folk han gretter wit

Than they that han be most with love y-nome;

And strengest folk ben therwith overcome,

The worthiest and grettest of degree:

This was, and is, and yet men shal it see. 245

And trewelich it sit wel to be so;

For alderwysest han ther-with ben plesed;

And they that han ben aldermost in wo,

With love han ben conforted most and esed;

And ofte it hath the cruel herte apesed, 250

And worthy folk maad worthier of name,

And causeth most to dreden vyce and shame.

Now sith it may not goodly be withstonde,

And is a thing so vertuous in kinde,

Refuseth not to Love for to be bonde, 255

Sin, as him-selven list, he may yow binde.

The yerde is bet that bowen wole and winde

Than that that brest; and therfor I yow rede

To folwen him that so wel can yow lede.

But for to tellen forth in special 260

As of this kinges sone of which I tolde,

And leten other thing collateral,

Of him thenke I my tale for to holde,

Both of his Ioye, and of his cares colde;

And al his werk, as touching this matere, 265

For I it gan, I wol ther-to refere.

With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge,

This Troilus, of every wight aboute,

On this lady and now on that lokinge,

Wher-so she were of toune, or of with-oute: 270

And up-on cas bifel, that thorugh a route

His eye perced, and so depe it wente,

Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente.

And sodeynly he wax ther-with astoned,

And gan hire bet biholde in thrifty wyse: 275

`O mercy, god!' thoughte he, `wher hastow woned,

That art so fair and goodly to devyse?'

Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse,

And softe sighed, lest men mighte him here,

And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere. 280

She nas nat with the leste of hir stature,

But alle hir limes so wel answeringe

Weren to womanhode, that creature

Was neuer lasse mannish in seminge.

And eek the pure wyse of here meninge 285

Shewede wel, that men might in hir gesse

Honour, estat, and wommanly noblesse.

To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle

Gan for to lyke hir meninge and hir chere,

Which somdel deynous was, for she leet falle 290

Hir look a lite a-side, in swich manere,

Ascaunces, `What! May I not stonden here?'

And after that hir loking gan she lighte,

That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte.

And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken 295

So greet desir, and swich affeccioun,

That in his herte botme gan to stiken

Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun:

And though he erst hadde poured up and doun,

He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke; 300

Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke.

Lo, he that leet him-selven so konninge,

And scorned hem that loves peynes dryen,

Was ful unwar that love hadde his dwellinge

With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen; 305

That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen,

Right with hir look, the spirit in his herte;

Blissed be love, that thus can folk converte!

She, this in blak, likinge to Troylus,

Over alle thyng, he stood for to biholde; 310

Ne his desir, ne wherfor he stood thus,

He neither chere made, ne worde tolde;

But from a-fer, his maner for to holde,

On other thing his look som-tyme he caste,

And eft on hir, whyl that servyse laste. 315

And after this, not fulliche al awhaped,

Out of the temple al esiliche he wente,

Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-iaped

Of loves folk, lest fully the descente

Of scorn fille on him-self; but, what he mente, 320

Lest it were wist on any maner syde,

His wo he gan dissimulen and hyde.

Whan he was fro the temple thus departed,

He streyght anoon un-to his paleys torneth,

Right with hir look thurgh-shoten and thurgh-darted, 325

Al feyneth he in lust that he soiorneth;

And al his chere and speche also he borneth;

And ay, of loves servants every whyle,

Him-self to wrye, at hem he gan to smyle.

And seyde, `Lord, so ye live al in lest, 330

Ye loveres! For the conningest of yow,

That serveth most ententiflich and best,

Him tit as often harm ther-of as prow;

Your hyre is quit ayein, ye, god wot how!

Nought wel for wel, but scorn for good servyse; 335

In feith, your ordre is ruled in good wyse!

`In noun-certeyn ben alle your observaunces,

But it a sely fewe poyntes be;

Ne no-thing asketh so grete attendaunces

As doth youre lay, and that knowe alle ye; 340

But that is not the worste, as mote I thee;

But, tolde I yow the worste poynt, I leve,

Al seyde I sooth, ye wolden at me greve!

`But tak this, that ye loveres ofte eschuwe,

Or elles doon of good entencioun, 345

Ful ofte thy lady wole it misconstrue,

And deme it harm in hir opinioun;

And yet if she, for other enchesoun,

Be wrooth, than shalt thou han a groyn anoon:

Lord! wel is him that may be of yow oon!' 350

But for al this, whan that he say his tyme,

He held his pees, non other bote him gayned;

For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme,

That wel unnethe un-to his folk he fayned

That othere besye nedes him destrayned; 355

For wo was him, that what to doon he niste,

But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste.

And whan that he in chaumbre was allone,

He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette,

And first be gan to syke, and eft to grone, 360

And thoughte ay on hir so, with-outen lette,

That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette

That he hir saw a temple, and al the wyse

Right of hir loke, and gan it newe avyse.

Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde, 365

In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure;

And that he wel coude in his herte finde,

It was to him a right good aventure

To love swich oon, and if he dide his cure

To serven hir, yet mighte he falle in grace, 370

Or elles, for oon of hir servaunts pace.

Imagininge that travaille nor grame

Ne mighte, for so goodly oon, be lorn

As she, ne him for his desir ne shame,

Al were it wist, but in prys and up-born 375

Of alle lovers wel more than biforn;

Thus argumented he in his ginninge,

Ful unavysed of his wo cominge.

Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,

And thoughte he wolde werken prively, 380

First, to hyden his desir in muwe

From every wight y-born, al-outrely,

But he mighte ought recovered be therby;

Remembring him, that love to wyde y-blowe

Yelt bittre fruyt, though swete seed be sowe. 385

And over al this, yet muchel more he thoughte

What for to speke, and what to holden inne,

And what to arten hir to love he soughte,

And on a song anoon-right to biginne,

And gan loude on his sorwe for to winne; 390

For with good hope he gan fully assente

Criseyde for to love, and nought repente.

And of his song nought only the sentence,

As writ myn autour called Lollius,

But pleynly, save our tonges difference, 395

I dar wel sayn, in al that Troilus

Seyde in his song, lo! every word right thus

As I shal seyn; and who-so list it here,

Lo! next this vers, he may it finden here.

Cantus Troili.

`If no love is, O god, what fele I so? 400

And if love is, what thing and whiche is he!

If love be good, from whennes comth my wo?

If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me,

Whenne every torment and adversitee

That cometh of him, may to me savory thinke; 405

For ay thurst I, the more that I it drinke.

`And if that at myn owene lust I brenne,

Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my pleynte?

If harme agree me, wher-to pleyne I thenne?

I noot, ne why unwery that I feynte. 410

O quike deeth, O swete harm so queynte,

How may of thee in me swich quantitee,

But-if that I consente that it be?

`And if that I consente, I wrongfully

Compleyne, y-wis; thus possed to and fro, 415

Al sterelees with inne a boot am I

A-mid the see, by-twixen windes two,

That in contrarie stonden ever-mo.

Allas! what is this wonder maladye?

For hete of cold, for cold of hete, I deye.' 420

And to the god of love thus seyde he

With pitous voys, `O lord, now youres is

My spirit, which that oughte youres be.

Yow thanke I, lord, that han me brought to this;

But whether goddesse or womman, y-wis, 425

She be, I noot, which that ye do me serve;

But as hir man I wole ay live and sterve.

`Ye stonden in hire eyen mightily,

As in a place un-to youre vertu digne;

Wherfore, lord, if my servyse or I 430

May lyke yow, so beth to me benigne;

For myn estat royal here I resigne

In-to hir hond, and with ful humble chere

Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere.'

In him ne deyned sparen blood royal 435

The fyr of love, wher-fro god me blesse,

Ne him forbar in no degree, for al

His vertu or his excellent prowesse;

But held him as his thral lowe in distresse,

And brende him so in sondry wyse ay newe, 440

That sixty tyme a day he loste his hewe.

So muche, day by day, his owene thought,

For lust to hir, gan quiken and encrese,

That every other charge he sette at nought;

For-thy ful ofte, his hote fyr to cese, 445

To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese;

For ther-by to ben esed wel he wende,

And ay the ner he was, the more he brende.

For ay the ner the fyr, the hotter is,

This, trowe I, knoweth al this companye. 450

But were he fer or neer, I dar seye this,

By night or day, for wisdom or folye,

His herte, which that is his brestes ye,

Was ay on hir, that fairer was to sene

Than ever were Eleyne or Polixene. 455

Eek of the day ther passed nought an houre

That to him-self a thousand tyme he seyde,

`Good goodly, to whom serve I and laboure,

As I best can, now wolde god, Criseyde,

Ye wolden on me rewe er that I deyde! 460

My dere herte, allas! myn hele and hewe

And lyf is lost, but ye wole on me rewe.'

Alle othere dredes weren from him fledde,

Both of the assege and his savacioun;

Ne in him desyr noon othere fownes bredde 465

But argumentes to his conclusioun,

That she on him wolde han compassioun,

And he to be hir man, whyl he may dure;

Lo, here his lyf, and from the deeth his cure!

The sharpe shoures felle of armes preve, 470

That Ector or his othere bretheren diden,

Ne made him only ther-fore ones meve;

And yet was he, wher-so men wente or riden,

Founde oon the beste, and lengest tyme abiden

Ther peril was, and dide eek such travayle 475

In armes, that to thenke it was mervayle.

But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde,

Ne also for the rescous of the toun,

Ne made him thus in armes for to madde,

But only, lo, for this conclusioun, 480

To lyken hir the bet for his renoun;

Fro day to day in armes so he spedde,

That alle the Grekes as the deeth him dredde.

And fro this forth tho refte him love his sleep,

And made his mete his foo; and eek his sorwe 485

Gan multiplye, that, who-so toke keep,

It shewed in his hewe, bothe eve and morwe;

Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe

Of other syknesse, lest of him men wende

That the hote fyr of love him brende, 490

And seyde, he hadde a fever and ferde amis;

But how it was, certayn, can I not seye,

If that his lady understood not this,

Or feyned hir she niste, oon of the tweye;

But wel I rede that, by no maner weye, 495

Ne semed it as that she of him roughte,

Nor of his peyne, or what-so-ever he thoughte.

But than fel to this Troylus such wo,

That he was wel neigh wood; for ay his drede

Was this, that she som wight had loved so, 500

That never of him she wolde have taken hede;

For whiche him thoughte he felte his herte blede.

Ne of his wo ne dorste he not biginne

To tellen it, for al this world to winne.

But whanne he hadde a space fro his care, 505

Thus to him-self ful ofte he gan to pleyne;

He sayde, `O fool, now art thou in the snare,

That whilom Iapedest at loves peyne;

Now artow hent, now gnaw thyn owene cheyne;

Thou were ay wont eche lovere reprehende 510

Of thing fro which thou canst thee nat defende.

`What wol now every lover seyn of thee,

If this be wist, but ever in thyn absence

Laughen in scorn, and seyn, `Lo, ther gooth he,

That is the man of so gret sapience, 515

That held us lovers leest in reverence!

Now, thonked be god, he may goon in the daunce

Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce!'

`But, O thou woful Troilus, god wolde,

Sin thou most loven thurgh thi destinee, 520

That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde

Knowe al thy wo, al lakkede hir pitee:

But al so cold in love, towardes thee,

Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone,

And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sone.' 525

`God wolde I were aryved in the port

Of deth, to which my sorwe wil me lede!

A, lord, to me it were a gret comfort;

Than were I quit of languisshing in drede.

For by myn hidde sorwe y-blowe on brede 530

I shal bi-Iaped been a thousand tyme

More than that fool of whos folye men ryme.

`But now help god, and ye, swete, for whom

I pleyne, y-caught, ye, never wight so faste!

O mercy, dere herte, and help me from 535

The deeth, for I, whyl that my lyf may laste,

More than my-self wol love yow to my laste.

And with som freendly look gladeth me, swete,

Though never more thing ye me bi-hete!'

This wordes and ful manye an-other to 540

He spak, and called ever in his compleynte

Hir name, for to tellen hir his wo,

Til neigh that he in salte teres dreynte.

Al was for nought, she herde nought his pleynte;

And whan that he bithoughte on that folye, 545

A thousand fold his wo gan multiplye.

Bi-wayling in his chambre thus allone,

A freend of his, that called was Pandare,

Com ones in unwar, and herde him grone,

And say his freend in swich distresse and care:

`Allas!' quod he, `who causeth al this fare? 551

O mercy, god! What unhap may this mene?

Han now thus sone Grekes maad yow lene?

`Or hastow som remors of conscience,

And art now falle in som devocioun, 555

And waylest for thy sinne and thyn offence,

And hast for ferde caught attricioun?

God save hem that bi-seged han our toun,

And so can leye our Iolyte on presse,

And bring our lusty folk to holinesse!' 560

These wordes seyde he for the nones alle,

That with swich thing he mighte him angry maken,

And with an angre don his sorwe falle,

As for the tyme, and his corage awaken;

But wel he wist, as fer as tonges spaken, 565

Ther nas a man of gretter hardinesse

Than he, ne more desired worthinesse.

`What cas,' quod Troilus, `or what aventure

Hath gyded thee to see my languisshinge,

That am refus of euery creature? 570

But for the love of god, at my preyinge,

Go henne a-way, for certes, my deyinge

Wol thee disese, and I mot nedes deye;

Ther-for go wey, ther is no more to seye.

`But if thou wene I be thus sik for drede, 575

It is not so, and ther-for scorne nought;

Ther is a-nother thing I take of hede

Wel more than ought the Grekes han y-wrought,

Which cause is of my deeth, for sorwe and thought.

But though that I now telle thee it ne leste, 580

Be thou nought wrooth; I hyde it for the beste.'

This Pandare, that neigh malt for wo and routhe,

Ful often seyde, `Allas! what may this be?

Now freend,' quod he, `if ever love or trouthe

Hath been, or is, bi-twixen thee and me, 585

Ne do thou never swiche a crueltee

To hyde fro thy freend so greet a care;

Wostow nought wel that it am I, Pandare?

`I wole parten with thee al thy peyne,

If it be so I do thee no comfort, 590

As it is freendes right, sooth for to seyne,

To entreparten wo, as glad desport.

I have, and shal, for trewe or fals report,

In wrong and right y-loved thee al my lyve;

Hyd not thy wo fro me, but telle it blyve.' 595

Than gan this sorwful Troilus to syke,

And seyde him thus, "God leve it be my beste

To telle it thee; for sith it may thee lyke,

Yet wole I telle it, though myn herte breste;

And wel wot I thou mayst do me no reste. 600

But lest thow deme I truste not to thee,

Now herkne, freend, for thus it stant with me.

`Love, a-yeins the which who-so defendeth

Him-selven most, him alder-lest avayleth,

With disespeir so sorwfully me offendeth, 605

That streyght un-to the deeth myn herte sayleth.

Ther-to desyr so brenningly me assaylleth,

That to ben slayn it were a gretter Ioye

To me than king of Grece been and Troye!

`Suffiseth this, my fulle freend Pandare, 610

That I have seyd, for now wostow my wo;

And for the love of god, my colde care

So hyd it wel, I telle it never to mo;

For harmes mighte folwen, mo than two,

If it were wist; but be thou in gladnesse, 615

And lat me sterve, unknowe, of my distresse.'

`How hastow thus unkindely and longe

Hid this fro me, thou fool?' quod Pandarus;

`Paraunter thou might after swich oon longe,

That myn avys anoon may helpen us.' 620

`This were a wonder thing,' quod Troylus,

`Thou coudest never in love thy-selven wisse;

How devel maystow bringen me to blisse?'

`Ye, Troilus, now herke,' quod Pandare,

`Though I be nyce; it happeth ofte so, 625

That oon that exces doth ful yvele fare,

By good counseyl can kepe his freend ther-fro.

I have my-self eek seyn a blind man go

Ther-as he fel that coude loke wyde;

A fool may eek a wys man ofte gyde. 630

`A whetston is no kerving instrument,

And yet it maketh sharpe kerving-tolis.

And ther thou woost that I have ought miswent,

Eschewe thou that, for swich thing to thee scole is;

Thus ofte wyse men ben war by folis. 635

If thou do so, thy wit is wel biwared;

By his contrarie is every thing declared.

`For how might ever sweetnesse have be knowe

To him that never tasted bitternesse?

Ne no man may be inly glad, I trowe, 640

That never was in sorwe or som distresse;

Eek whyt by blak, by shame eek worthinesse,

Ech set by other, more for other semeth;

As men may see; and so the wyse it demeth.

`Sith thus of two contraries is a lore, 645

I, that have in love so ofte assayed

Grevaunces, oughte conne, and wel the more

Counsayllen thee of that thou art amayed.

Eek thee ne oughte nat ben yvel apayed,

Though I desyre with thee for to bere 650

Thyn hevy charge; it shal the lasse dere.

`I woot wel that it fareth thus by me

As to thy brother Parys an herdesse,

Which that y-cleped was Oenone,

Wrot in a compleynte of hir hevinesse: 655

Ye say the lettre that she wroot, y gesse?'

`Nay, never yet, y-wis,' quod Troilus.

`Now,' quod Pandare, `herkneth, it was thus. —

"Phebus, that first fond art of medicyne,'

Quod she, `and coude in every wightes care 660

Remede and reed, by herbes he knew fyne,

Yet to him-self his conning was ful bare;

For love hadde him so bounden in a snare,

Al for the doughter of the kinge Admete,

That al his craft ne coude his sorwe bete." — 665

`Right so fare I, unhappily for me;

I love oon best, and that me smerteth sore;

And yet, paraunter, can I rede thee,

And not my-self; repreve me no more.

I have no cause, I woot wel, for to sore 670

As doth an hauk that listeth for to pleye,

But to thyn help yet somwhat can I seye.

`And of o thing right siker maystow be,

That certayn, for to deyen in the peyne,

That I shal never-mo discoveren thee; 675

Ne, by my trouthe, I kepe nat restreyne

Thee fro thy love, thogh that it were Eleyne,

That is thy brotheres wif, if ich it wiste;

Be what she be, and love hir as thee liste.

`Therfore, as freend fullich in me assure, 680

And tel me plat what is thyn enchesoun,

And final cause of wo that ye endure;

For douteth no-thing, myn entencioun

Nis nought to yow of reprehencioun,

To speke as now, for no wight may bireve 685

A man to love, til that him list to leve.

`And witeth wel, that bothe two ben vyces,

Mistrusten alle, or elles alle leve;

But wel I woot, the mene of it no vyce is,

For to trusten sum wight is a preve 690

Of trouthe, and for-thy wolde I fayn remeve

Thy wrong conseyte, and do thee som wight triste,

Thy wo to telle; and tel me, if thee liste.

`The wyse seyth, "Wo him that is allone,

For, and he falle, he hath noon help to ryse;" 695

And sith thou hast a felawe, tel thy mone;

For this nis not, certeyn, the nexte wyse

To winnen love, as techen us the wyse,

To walwe and wepe as Niobe the quene,

Whos teres yet in marbel been y-sene. 700

`Lat be thy weping and thi drerinesse,

And lat us lissen wo with other speche;

So may thy woful tyme seme lesse.

Delyte not in wo thy wo to seche,

As doon thise foles that hir sorwes eche 705

With sorwe, whan they han misaventure,

And listen nought to seche hem other cure.

`Men seyn, "To wrecche is consolacioun

To have an-other felawe in his peyne;"

That oughte wel ben our opinioun, 710

For, bothe thou and I, of love we pleyne;

So ful of sorwe am I, soth for to seyne,

That certeynly no more harde grace

May sitte on me, for-why ther is no space.

`If god wole thou art not agast of me, 715

Lest I wolde of thy lady thee bigyle,

Thow wost thy-self whom that I love, pardee,

As I best can, gon sithen longe whyle.

And sith thou wost I do it for no wyle,

And sith I am he that thou tristest most, 720

Tel me sumwhat, sin al my wo thou wost.'

Yet Troilus, for al this, no word seyde,

But longe he ley as stille as he ded were;

And after this with sykinge he abreyde,

And to Pandarus voys he lente his ere, 725

And up his eyen caste he, that in fere

Was Pandarus, lest that in frenesye

He sholde falle, or elles sone dye;

And cryde `A-wake' ful wonderly and sharpe;

`What? Slombrestow as in a lytargye? 730

Or artow lyk an asse to the harpe,

That hereth soun, whan men the strenges plye,

But in his minde of that no melodye

May sinken, him to glade, for that he

So dul is of his bestialitee?' 735

And with that, Pandare of his wordes stente;

And Troilus yet him no word answerde,

For-why to telle nas not his entente

To never no man, for whom that he so ferde.

For it is seyd, `Man maketh ofte a yerde 740

With which the maker is him-self y-beten

In sondry maner,' as thise wyse treten,

And namely, in his counseyl tellinge

That toucheth love that oughte be secree;

For of him-self it wolde y-nough out-springe, 745

But-if that it the bet governed be.

Eek som-tyme it is craft to seme flee

Fro thing which in effect men hunte faste;

Al this gan Troilus in his herte caste.

But nathelees, whan he had herd him crye 750

`Awake!' he gan to syke wonder sore,

And seyde, `Freend, though that I stille lye,

I am not deef; now pees, and cry no more;

For I have herd thy wordes and thy lore;

But suffre me my mischef to biwayle, 755

For thy proverbes may me nought avayle.

`Nor other cure canstow noon for me.

Eek I nil not be cured, I wol deye;

What knowe I of the quene Niobe?

Lat be thyne olde ensaumples, I thee preye.' 760

`No,' quod tho Pandarus, `therfore I seye,

Swich is delyt of foles to biwepe

Hir wo, but seken bote they ne kepe.

`Now knowe I that ther reson in the fayleth.

But tel me, if I wiste what she were 765

For whom that thee al this misaunter ayleth?

Dorstestow that I tolde hir in hir ere

Thy wo, sith thou darst not thy-self for fere,

And hir bisoughte on thee to han som routhe?'

`Why, nay,' quod he, `by god and by my trouthe!' 770

`What, Not as bisily,' quod Pandarus,

`As though myn owene lyf lay on this nede?'

`No, certes, brother,' quod this Troilus,

`And why?' — `For that thou sholdest never spede.'

`Wostow that wel?' — `Ye, that is out of drede,' 775

Quod Troilus, `for al that ever ye conne,

She nil to noon swich wrecche as I be wonne.'

Quod Pandarus, `Allas! What may this be,

That thou dispeyred art thus causelees?

What? Liveth not thy lady? Benedicite! 780

How wostow so that thou art gracelees?

Swich yvel is nat alwey botelees.

Why, put not impossible thus thy cure,

Sin thing to come is ofte in aventure.

`I graunte wel that thou endurest wo 785

As sharp as doth he, Ticius, in helle,

Whos stomak foules tyren ever-mo

That highte volturis, as bokes telle.

But I may not endure that thou dwelle

In so unskilful an opinioun 790

That of thy wo is no curacioun.

`But ones niltow, for thy coward herte,

And for thyn ire and folish wilfulnesse,

For wantrust, tellen of thy sorwes smerte,

Ne to thyn owene help do bisinesse 795

As muche as speke a resoun more or lesse,

But lyest as he that list of no-thing recche.

What womman coude love swich a wrecche?

`What may she demen other of thy deeth,

If thou thus deye, and she not why it is, 800

But that for fere is yolden up thy breeth,

For Grekes han biseged us, y-wis?

Lord, which a thank than shaltow han of this!

Thus wol she seyn, and al the toun at ones,

"The wrecche is deed, the devel have his bones!" 805

`Thou mayst allone here wepe and crye and knele;

But, love a woman that she woot it nought,

And she wol quyte that thou shalt not fele;

Unknowe, unkist, and lost that is un-sought.

What! Many a man hath love ful dere y-bought 810

Twenty winter that his lady wiste,

That never yet his lady mouth he kiste.

`What? Shulde be therfor fallen in despeyr,

Or be recreaunt for his owene tene,

Or sleen him-self, al be his lady fayr? 815

Nay, nay, but ever in oon be fresh and grene

To serve and love his dere hertes quene,

And thenke it is a guerdoun hir to serve

A thousand-fold more than he can deserve.'

Of that word took hede Troilus, 820

And thoughte anoon what folye he was inne,

And how that sooth him seyde Pandarus,

That for to sleen him-self mighte he not winne,

But bothe doon unmanhod and a sinne,

And of his deeth his lady nought to wyte; 825

For of his wo, god woot, she knew ful lyte.

And with that thought he gan ful sore syke,

And seyde, `Allas! What is me best to do?'

To whom Pandare answered, `If thee lyke,

The best is that thou telle me thy wo; 830

And have my trouthe, but thou it finde so,

I be thy bote, or that it be ful longe,

To peces do me drawe, and sithen honge!'

`Ye, so thou seyst,' quod Troilus tho, `allas!

But, god wot, it is not the rather so; 835

Ful hard were it to helpen in this cas,

For wel finde I that Fortune is my fo,

Ne alle the men that ryden conne or go

May of hir cruel wheel the harm withstonde;

For, as hir list, she pleyeth with free and bonde.' 840

Quod Pandarus, `Than blamestow Fortune

For thou art wrooth, ye, now at erst I see;

Wostow nat wel that Fortune is commune

To every maner wight in som degree?

And yet thou hast this comfort, lo, pardee! 845

That, as hir Ioyes moten over-goon,

So mote hir sorwes passen everichoon.

`For if hir wheel stinte any-thing to torne,

Than cessed she Fortune anoon to be:

Now, sith hir wheel by no wey may soiorne, 850

What wostow if hir mutabilitee

Right as thy-selven list, wol doon by thee,

Or that she be not fer fro thyn helpinge?

Paraunter, thou hast cause for to singe!

`And therfor wostow what I thee beseche? 855

Lat be thy wo and turning to the grounde;

For who-so list have helping of his leche,

To him bihoveth first unwrye his wounde.

To Cerberus in helle ay be I bounde,

Were it for my suster, al thy sorwe, 860

By my wil, she sholde al be thyn to-morwe.

`Loke up, I seye, and tel me what she is

Anoon, that I may goon aboute thy nede;

Knowe ich hir ought? For my love, tel me this;

Than wolde I hopen rather for to spede.' 865

Tho gan the veyne of Troilus to blede,

For he was hit, and wex al reed for shame;

`A ha!' quod Pandare, `Here biginneth game!'

And with that word he gan him for to shake,

And seyde, `Theef, thou shalt hir name telle.' 870

But tho gan sely Troilus for to quake

As though men sholde han led him in-to helle,

And seyde, `Allas! Of al my wo the welle,

Than is my swete fo called Criseyde!'

And wel nigh with the word for fere he deyde. 875

And whan that Pandare herde hir name nevene,

Lord, he was glad, and seyde, `Freend so dere,

Now fare a-right, for Ioves name in hevene,

Love hath biset the wel, be of good chere;

For of good name and wysdom and manere 880

She hath y-nough, and eek of gentilesse;

If she be fayr, thou wost thy-self, I gesse,

`Ne I never saw a more bountevous

Of hir estat, ne a gladder, ne of speche

A freendlier, ne a more gracious 885

For to do wel, ne lasse hadde nede to seche

What for to doon; and al this bet to eche,

In honour, to as fer as she may strecche,

A kinges herte semeth by hirs a wrecche.

`And for-thy loke of good comfort thou be; 890

For certeinly, the firste poynt is this

Of noble corage and wel ordeyne,

A man to have pees with him-self, y-wis;

So oughtest thou, for nought but good it is

To loven wel, and in a worthy place; 895

Thee oghte not to clepe it hap, but grace.

`And also thenk, and ther-with glade thee,

That sith thy lady vertuous is al,

So folweth it that ther is som pitee

Amonges alle thise othere in general; 900

And for-thy see that thou, in special,

Requere nought that is ayein hir name;

For vertue streccheth not him-self to shame.

`But wel is me that ever that I was born,

That thou biset art in so good a place; 905

For by my trouthe, in love I dorste have sworn,

Thee sholde never han tid thus fayr a grace;

And wostow why? For thou were wont to chace

At Love in scorn, and for despyt him calle

"Seynt Idiot, lord of thise foles alle." 910

`How often hastow maad thy nyce Iapes,

And seyd, that loves servants everichone

Of nycetee been verray goddes apes;

And some wolde monche hir mete alone,

Ligging a-bedde, and make hem for to grone; 915

And som, thou seydest, hadde a blaunche fevere,

And preydest god he sholde never kevere.

`And som of hem tok on hem, for the colde,

More than y-nough, so seydestow ful ofte;

And som han feyned ofte tyme, and tolde 920

How that they wake, whan they slepen softe;

And thus they wolde han brought hem-self a-lofte,

And nathelees were under at the laste;

Thus seydestow, and Iapedest ful faste.

`Yet seydestow, that, for the more part, 925

These loveres wolden speke in general,

And thoughten that it was a siker art,

For fayling, for to assayen over-al.

Now may I iape of thee, if that I shal!

But nathelees, though that I sholde deye, 930

That thou art noon of tho, that dorste I seye.

`Now beet thy brest, and sey to god of love,

"Thy grace, lord! For now I me repente

If I mis spak, for now my-self I love:"

Thus sey with al thyn herte in good entente.' 935

Quod Troilus, `A! Lord! I me consente,

And prey to thee my Iapes thou foryive,

And I shal never-more whyl I live.'

`Thou seyst wel,' quod Pandare, `and now I hope

That thou the goddes wraththe hast al apesed; 940

And sithen thou hast wepen many a drope,

And seyd swich thing wher-with thy god is plesed,

Now wolde never god but thou were esed;

And think wel, she of whom rist al thy wo

Here-after may thy comfort been al-so. 945

`For thilke ground, that bereth the wedes wikke,

Bereth eek thise holsom herbes, as ful ofte

Next the foule netle, rough and thikke,

The rose waxeth swote and smothe and softe;

And next the valey is the hil a-lofte; 950

And next the derke night the glade morwe;

And also Ioye is next the fyn of sorwe.

`Now loke that atempre be thy brydel,

And, for the beste, ay suffre to the tyde,

Or elles al our labour is on ydel; 955

He hasteth wel that wysly can abyde;

Be diligent, and trewe, and ay wel hyde.

Be lusty, free, persevere in thy servyse,

And al is wel, if thou werke in this wyse.

`But he that parted is in every place 960

Is no-wher hool, as writen clerkes wyse;

What wonder is, though swich oon have no grace?

Eek wostow how it fareth of som servyse?

As plaunte a tre or herbe, in sondry wyse,

And on the morwe pulle it up as blyve, 965

No wonder is, though it may never thryve.

`And sith that god of love hath thee bistowed

In place digne un-to thy worthinesse,

Stond faste, for to good port hastow rowed;

And of thy-self, for any hevinesse, 970

Hope alwey wel; for, but-if drerinesse

Or over-haste our bothe labour shende,

I hope of this to maken a good ende.

`And wostow why I am the lasse a-fered

Of this matere with my nece trete? 975

For this have I herd seyd of wyse y-lered,

"Was never man ne woman yet bigete

That was unapt to suffren loves hete,

Celestial, or elles love of kinde;"

For-thy som grace I hope in hir to finde. 980

`And for to speke of hir in special,

Hir beautee to bithinken and hir youthe,

It sit hir nought to be celestial

As yet, though that hir liste bothe and couthe;

But trewely, it sete hir wel right nouthe 985

A worthy knight to loven and cheryce,

And but she do, I holde it for a vyce.

`Wherfore I am, and wol be, ay redy

To peyne me to do yow this servyse;

For bothe yow to plese thus hope I 990

Her-afterward; for ye beth bothe wyse,

And conne it counseyl kepe in swich a wyse

That no man shal the wyser of it be;

And so we may be gladed alle three.

`And, by my trouthe, I have right now of thee 995

A good conceyt in my wit, as I gesse,

And what it is, I wol now that thou see.

I thenke, sith that love, of his goodnesse,

Hath thee converted out of wikkednesse,

That thou shalt be the beste post, I leve, 1000

Of al his lay, and most his foos to-greve.

`Ensample why, see now these wyse clerkes,

That erren aldermost a-yein a lawe,

And ben converted from hir wikked werkes

Thorugh grace of god, that list hem to him drawe, 1005

Than arn they folk that han most god in awe,

And strengest-feythed been, I understonde,

And conne an errour alder-best withstonde.'

Whan Troilus had herd Pandare assented

To been his help in loving of Criseyde, 1010

Wex of his wo, as who seyth, untormented,

But hotter wex his love, and thus he seyde,

With sobre chere, al-though his herte pleyde,

`Now blisful Venus helpe, er that I sterve,

Of thee, Pandare, I may som thank deserve. 1015

`But, dere frend, how shal myn wo ben lesse

Til this be doon? And goode, eek tel me this,

How wiltow seyn of me and my destresse?

Lest she be wrooth, this drede I most, y-wys,

Or nil not here or trowen how it is. 1020

Al this drede I, and eek for the manere

Of thee, hir eem, she nil no swich thing here.'

Quod Pandarus, `Thou hast a ful gret care

Lest that the cherl may falle out of the mone!

Why, lord! I hate of the thy nyce fare! 1025

Why, entremete of that thou hast to done!

For goddes love, I bidde thee a bone,

So lat me alone, and it shal be thy beste.' —

`Why, freend,' quod he, `now do right as the leste.

`But herke, Pandare, o word, for I nolde 1030

That thou in me wendest so greet folye,

That to my lady I desiren sholde

That toucheth harm or any vilenye;

For dredelees, me were lever dye

Than she of me ought elles understode 1035

But that, that mighte sounen in-to gode.'

Tho lough this Pandare, and anoon answerde,

`And I thy borw? Fy! No wight dooth but so;

I roughte nought though that she stode and herde

How that thou seyst; but fare-wel, I wol go. 1040

A-dieu! Be glad! God spede us bothe two!

Yif me this labour and this besinesse,

And of my speed be thyn al that swetnesse.'

Tho Troilus gan doun on knees to falle,

And Pandare in his armes hente faste, 1045

And seyde, `Now, fy on the Grekes alle!

Yet, pardee, god shal helpe us at the laste;

And dredelees, if that my lyf may laste,

And god to-forn, lo, som of hem shal smerte;

And yet me athinketh that this avaunt me asterte! 1050

`Now, Pandare, I can no more seye,

But thou wys, thou wost, thou mayst, thou art al!

My lyf, my deeth, hool in thyn bonde I leye;

Help now,' Quod he, `Yis, by my trouthe, I shal.'

`God yelde thee, freend, and this in special,' 1055

Quod Troilus, `that thou me recomaunde

To hir that to the deeth me may comaunde.'

This Pandarus tho, desirous to serve

His fulle freend, than seyde in this manere, 1059

`Far-wel, and thenk I wol thy thank deserve;

Have here my trouthe, and that thou shalt wel here.' —

And wente his wey, thenking on this matere,

And how he best mighte hir beseche of grace,

And finde a tyme ther-to, and a place.

For every wight that hath an hous to founde 1065

Ne renneth nought the werk for to biginne

With rakel hond, but he wol byde a stounde,

And sende his hertes lyne out fro with-inne

Alderfirst his purpos for to winne.

Al this Pandare in his herte thoughte, 1070

And caste his werk ful wysly, or he wroughte.

But Troilus lay tho no lenger doun,

But up anoon up-on his stede bay,

And in the feld he pleyde tho leoun;

Wo was that Greek that with him mette that day. 1075

And in the toun his maner tho forth ay

So goodly was, and gat him so in grace,

That ech him lovede that loked on his face.

For he bicom the frendlyeste wight,

The gentileste, and eek the moste free, 1080

The thriftieste and oon the beste knight,

That in his tyme was, or mighte be.

Dede were his Iapes and his crueltee,

His heighe port and his manere estraunge,

And ech of tho gan for a vertu chaunge. 1085

Now lat us stinte of Troilus a stounde,

That fareth lyk a man that hurt is sore,

And is somdel of akinge of his wounde

Y-lissed wel, but heled no del more:

And, as an esy pacient, the lore 1090

Abit of him that gooth aboute his cure;

And thus he dryveth forth his aventure.

Explicit Liber Primus

BOOK II. Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.

Out of these blake wawes for to sayle,

O wind, O wind, the weder ginneth clere;

For in this see the boot hath swich travayle,

Of my conning, that unnethe I it stere:

This see clepe I the tempestous matere 5

Of desespeyr that Troilus was inne:

But now of hope the calendes biginne.

O lady myn, that called art Cleo,

Thou be my speed fro this forth, and my muse,

To ryme wel this book, til I have do; 10

Me nedeth here noon other art to use.

For-why to every lovere I me excuse,

That of no sentement I this endyte,

But out of Latin in my tonge it wryte.

Wherfore I nil have neither thank ne blame 15

Of al this werk, but prey yow mekely,

Disblameth me if any word be lame,

For as myn auctor seyde, so seye I.

Eek though I speke of love unfelingly,

No wondre is, for it no-thing of newe is; 20

A blind man can nat Iuggen wel in hewis.

Ye knowe eek, that in forme of speche is chaunge

With-inne a thousand yeer, and wordes tho

That hadden prys, now wonder nyce and straunge

Us thinketh hem; and yet they spake hem so, 25

And spedde as wel in love as men now do;

Eek for to winne love in sondry ages,

In sondry londes, sondry ben usages.

And for-thy if it happe in any wyse,

That here be any lovere in this place 30

That herkneth, as the storie wol devyse,

How Troilus com to his lady grace,

And thenketh, so nolde I nat love purchace,

Or wondreth on his speche or his doinge,

I noot; but it is me no wonderinge; 35

For every wight which that to Rome went,

Halt nat o path, or alwey o manere;

Eek in som lond were al the gamen shent,

If that they ferde in love as men don here,

As thus, in open doing or in chere, 40

In visitinge, in forme, or seyde hire sawes;

For-thy men seyn, ech contree hath his lawes.

Eek scarsly been ther in this place three

That han in love seid lyk and doon in al;

For to thy purpos this may lyken thee, 45

And thee right nought, yet al is seyd or shal;

Eek som men grave in tree, som in stoon wal,

As it bitit; but sin I have begonne,

Myn auctor shal I folwen, if I conne.

Exclipit prohemium Secundi Libri.

Incipit Liber Secundus.

In May, that moder is of monthes glade, 50

That fresshe floures, blewe, and whyte, and rede,

Ben quike agayn, that winter dede made,

And ful of bawme is fleting every mede;

Whan Phebus doth his brighte bemes sprede

Right in the whyte Bole, it so bitidde 55

As I shal singe, on Mayes day the thridde,

That Pandarus, for al his wyse speche,

Felt eek his part of loves shottes kene,

That, coude he never so wel of loving preche,

It made his hewe a-day ful ofte grene; 60

So shoop it, that hym fil that day a tene

In love, for which in wo to bedde he wente,

And made, er it was day, ful many a wente.

The swalwe Proigne, with a sorwful lay,

Whan morwe com, gan make hir waymentinge, 65

Why she forshapen was; and ever lay

Pandare a-bedde, half in a slomeringe,

Til she so neigh him made hir chiteringe

How Tereus gan forth hir suster take,

That with the noyse of hir he gan a-wake; 70

And gan to calle, and dresse him up to ryse,

Remembringe him his erand was to done

From Troilus, and eek his greet empryse;

And caste and knew in good plyt was the mone

To doon viage, and took his wey ful sone 75

Un-to his neces paleys ther bi-syde;

Now Ianus, god of entree, thou him gyde!

Whan he was come un-to his neces place,

`Wher is my lady?' to hir folk seyde he;

And they him tolde; and he forth in gan pace, 80

And fond, two othere ladyes sete and she,

With-inne a paved parlour; and they three

Herden a mayden reden hem the geste

Of the Sege of Thebes, whyl hem leste.

Quod Pandarus, `Ma dame, god yow see, 85

With al your book and al the companye!'

`Ey, uncle myn, welcome y-wis,' quod she,

And up she roos, and by the hond in hye

She took him faste, and seyde, `This night thrye,

To goode mote it turne, of yow I mette!' 90

And with that word she doun on bench him sette.

`Ye, nece, ye shal fare wel the bet,

If god wole, al this yeer,' quod Pandarus;

`But I am sory that I have yow let

To herknen of your book ye preysen thus; 95

For goddes love, what seith it? tel it us.

Is it of love? O, som good ye me lere!'

`Uncle,' quod she, `your maistresse is not here!'

With that they gonnen laughe, and tho she seyde,

`This romaunce is of Thebes, that we rede; 100

And we han herd how that king Laius deyde

Thurgh Edippus his sone, and al that dede;

And here we stenten at these lettres rede,

How the bisshop, as the book can telle,

Amphiorax, fil thurgh the ground to helle.' 105

Quod Pandarus, `Al this knowe I my-selve,

And al the assege of Thebes and the care;

For her-of been ther maked bokes twelve: —

But lat be this, and tel me how ye fare;

Do wey your barbe, and shew your face bare; 110

Do wey your book, rys up, and lat us daunce,

And lat us don to May som observaunce.'

`A! God forbede!' quod she. `Be ye mad?

Is that a widewes lyf, so god you save?

By god, ye maken me right sore a-drad, 115

Ye ben so wilde, it semeth as ye rave!

It sete me wel bet ay in a cave

To bidde, and rede on holy seyntes lyves;

Lat maydens gon to daunce, and yonge wyves.'

`As ever thryve I,' quod this Pandarus, 120

`Yet coude I telle a thing to doon you pleye.'

`Now, uncle dere,' quod she, `tel it us

For goddes love; is than the assege aweye?

I am of Grekes so ferd that I deye.'

`Nay, nay,' quod he, `as ever mote I thryve! 125

It is a thing wel bet than swiche fyve.'

`Ye, holy god,' quod she, `what thing is that?

What! Bet than swiche fyve? Ey, nay, y-wis!

For al this world ne can I reden what

It sholde been; som Iape, I trowe, is this; 130

And but your-selven telle us what it is,

My wit is for to arede it al to lene;

As help me god, I noot nat what ye meene.'

`And I your borow, ne never shal, for me,

This thing be told to yow, as mote I thryve!' 135

`And why so, uncle myn? Why so?' quod she.

`By god,' quod he, `that wole I telle as blyve;

For prouder womman were ther noon on-lyve,

And ye it wiste, in al the toun of Troye;

I iape nought, as ever have I Ioye!' 140

Tho gan she wondren more than biforn

A thousand fold, and doun hir eyen caste;

For never, sith the tyme that she was born,

To knowe thing desired she so faste;

And with a syk she seyde him at the laste, 145

`Now, uncle myn, I nil yow nought displese,

Nor axen more, that may do yow disese.'

So after this, with many wordes glade,

And freendly tales, and with mery chere,

Of this and that they pleyde, and gunnen wade 150

In many an unkouth glad and deep matere,

As freendes doon, whan they ben met y-fere;

Til she gan axen him how Ector ferde,

That was the tounes wal and Grekes yerde.

`Ful wel, I thanke it god,' quod Pandarus, 155

`Save in his arm he hath a litel wounde;

And eek his fresshe brother Troilus,

The wyse worthy Ector the secounde,

In whom that ever vertu list abounde,

As alle trouthe and alle gentillesse, 160

Wysdom, honour, fredom, and worthinesse.'

`In good feith, eem,' quod she, `that lyketh me;

They faren wel, god save hem bothe two!

For trewely I holde it greet deyntee

A kinges sone in armes wel to do, 165

And been of good condiciouns ther-to;

For greet power and moral vertu here

Is selde y-seye in o persone y-fere.'

`In good feith, that is sooth,' quod Pandarus;

`But, by my trouthe, the king hath sones tweye, 170

That is to mene, Ector and Troilus,

That certainly, though that I sholde deye,

They been as voyde of vyces, dar I seye,

As any men that liveth under the sonne,

Hir might is wyde y-knowe, and what they conne. 175

`Of Ector nedeth it nought for to telle:

In al this world ther nis a bettre knight

Than he, that is of worthinesse welle;

And he wel more vertu hath than might.

This knoweth many a wys and worthy wight. 180

The same prys of Troilus I seye,

God help me so, I knowe not swiche tweye.'

`By god,' quod she, `of Ector that is sooth;

Of Troilus the same thing trowe I;

For, dredelees, men tellen that he dooth 185

In armes day by day so worthily,

And bereth him here at hoom so gentilly

To every wight, that al the prys hath he

Of hem that me were levest preysed be.'

`Ye sey right sooth, y-wis,' quod Pandarus; 190

`For yesterday, who-so hadde with him been,

He might have wondred up-on Troilus;

For never yet so thikke a swarm of been

Ne fleigh, as Grekes fro him gonne fleen;

And thorugh the feld, in everi wightes ere, 195

Ther nas no cry but "Troilus is there!"

`Now here, now there, he hunted hem so faste,

Ther nas but Grekes blood; and Troilus,

Now hem he hurte, and hem alle doun he caste;

Ay where he wente, it was arayed thus: 200

He was hir deeth, and sheld and lyf for us;

That as that day ther dorste noon with-stonde,

Whyl that he held his blody swerd in honde.

`Therto he is the freendlieste man

Of grete estat, that ever I saw my lyve; 205

And wher him list, best felawshipe can

To suche as him thinketh able for to thryve.'

And with that word tho Pandarus, as blyve,

He took his leve, and seyde, `I wol go henne.'

`Nay, blame have I, myn uncle,' quod she thenne. 210

`What eyleth yow to be thus wery sone,

And namelich of wommen? Wol ye so?

Nay, sitteth down; by god, I have to done

With yow, to speke of wisdom er ye go.'

And every wight that was a-boute hem tho, 215

That herde that, gan fer a-wey to stonde,

Whyl they two hadde al that hem liste in honde.

Whan that hir tale al brought was to an ende,

Of hire estat and of hir governaunce,

Quod Pandarus, `Now is it tyme I wende; 220

But yet, I seye, aryseth, lat us daunce,

And cast your widwes habit to mischaunce:

What list yow thus your-self to disfigure,

Sith yow is tid thus fair an aventure?'

`A! Wel bithought! For love of god,' quod she, 225

`Shal I not witen what ye mene of this?'

`No, this thing axeth layser,' tho quod he,

`And eek me wolde muche greve, y-wis,

If I it tolde, and ye it toke amis.

Yet were it bet my tonge for to stille 230

Than seye a sooth that were ayeins your wille.

`For, nece, by the goddesse Minerve,

And Iuppiter, that maketh the thonder ringe,

And by the blisful Venus that I serve,

Ye been the womman in this world livinge, 235

With-oute paramours, to my wittinge,

That I best love, and lothest am to greve,

And that ye witen wel your-self, I leve.'

`Y-wis, myn uncle,' quod she, `grant mercy;

Your freendship have I founden ever yit; 240

I am to no man holden trewely,

So muche as yow, and have so litel quit;

And, with the grace of god, emforth my wit,

As in my gilt I shal you never offende;

And if I have er this, I wol amende. 245

`But, for the love of god, I yow beseche,

As ye ben he that I love most and triste,

Lat be to me your fremde manere speche,

And sey to me, your nece, what yow liste:'

And with that word hir uncle anoon hir kiste, 250

And seyde, `Gladly, leve nece dere,

Tak it for good that I shal seye yow here.'

With that she gan hir eiyen doun to caste,

And Pandarus to coghe gan a lyte,

And seyde, `Nece, alwey, lo! To the laste, 255

How-so it be that som men hem delyte

With subtil art hir tales for to endyte,

Yet for al that, in hir entencioun

Hir tale is al for som conclusioun.

`And sithen thende is every tales strengthe, 260

And this matere is so bihovely,

What sholde I peynte or drawen it on lengthe

To yow, that been my freend so feithfully?'

And with that word he gan right inwardly

Biholden hir, and loken on hir face, 265

And seyde, `On suche a mirour goode grace!'

Than thoughte he thus: `If I my tale endyte

Ought hard, or make a proces any whyle,

She shal no savour han ther-in but lyte,

And trowe I wolde hir in my wil bigyle. 270

For tendre wittes wenen al be wyle

Ther-as they can nat pleynly understonde;

For-thy hir wit to serven wol I fonde —'

And loked on hir in a besy wyse,

And she was war that he byheld hir so, 275

And seyde, `Lord! So faste ye me avyse!

Sey ye me never er now? What sey ye, no?'

`Yes, yes,' quod he, `and bet wole er I go;

But, by my trouthe, I thoughte now if ye

Be fortunat, for now men shal it see. 280

`For to every wight som goodly aventure

Som tyme is shape, if he it can receyven;

And if that he wol take of it no cure,

Whan that it commeth, but wilfully it weyven,

Lo, neither cas nor fortune him deceyven, 285

But right his verray slouthe and wrecchednesse;

And swich a wight is for to blame, I gesse.

`Good aventure, O bele nece, have ye

Ful lightly founden, and ye conne it take;

And, for the love of god, and eek of me, 290

Cacche it anoon, lest aventure slake.

What sholde I lenger proces of it make?

Yif me your hond, for in this world is noon,

If that yow list, a wight so wel begoon.

`And sith I speke of good entencioun, 295

As I to yow have told wel here-biforn,

And love as wel your honour and renoun

As creature in al this world y-born;

By alle the othes that I have yow sworn,

And ye be wrooth therfore, or wene I lye, 300

Ne shal I never seen yow eft with ye.

`Beth nought agast, ne quaketh nat; wher-to?

Ne chaungeth nat for fere so your hewe;

For hardely the werste of this is do;

And though my tale as now be to yow newe, 305

Yet trist alwey, ye shal me finde trewe;

And were it thing that me thoughte unsittinge,

To yow nolde I no swiche tales bringe.'

`Now, my good eem, for goddes love, I preye,'

Quod she, `com of, and tel me what it is; 310

For bothe I am agast what ye wol seye,

And eek me longeth it to wite, y-wis.

For whether it be wel or be amis,

Say on, lat me not in this fere dwelle:'

`So wol I doon; now herkneth, I shal telle: 315

`Now, nece myn, the kinges dere sone,

The goode, wyse, worthy, fresshe, and free,

Which alwey for to do wel is his wone,

The noble Troilus, so loveth thee,

That, bot ye helpe, it wol his bane be. 320

Lo, here is al, what sholde I more seye?

Doth what yow list, to make him live or deye.

`But if ye lete him deye, I wol sterve;

Have her my trouthe, nece, I nil not lyen;

Al sholde I with this knyf my throte kerve —' 325

With that the teres braste out of his yen,

And seyde, `If that ye doon us bothe dyen,

Thus giltelees, than have ye fisshed faire;

What mende ye, though that we bothe apeyre?

`Allas! He which that is my lord so dere, 330

That trewe man, that noble gentil knight,

That nought desireth but your freendly chere,

I see him deye, ther he goth up-right,

And hasteth him, with al his fulle might,

For to be slayn, if fortune wol assente; 335

Allas! That god yow swich a beautee sente!

`If it be so that ye so cruel be,

That of his deeth yow liste nought to recche,

That is so trewe and worthy, as ye see,

No more than of a Iapere or a wrecche, 340

If ye be swich, your beautee may not strecche

To make amendes of so cruel a dede;

Avysement is good bifore the nede.

`Wo worth the faire gemme vertulees!

Wo worth that herbe also that dooth no bote! 345

Wo worth that beautee that is routhelees!

Wo worth that wight that tret ech under fote!

And ye, that been of beautee crop and rote,

If therwith-al in you ther be no routhe,

Than is it harm ye liven, by my trouthe! 350

`And also thenk wel that this is no gaude;

For me were lever, thou and I and he

Were hanged, than I sholde been his baude,

As heyghe, as men mighte on us alle y-see:

I am thyn eem, the shame were to me, 355

As wel as thee, if that I sholde assente,

Thorugh myn abet, that he thyn honour shente.

`Now understond, for I yow nought requere,

To binde yow to him thorugh no beheste,

But only that ye make him bettre chere 360

Than ye han doon er this, and more feste,

So that his lyf be saved, at the leste;

This al and som, and playnly our entente;

God help me so, I never other mente.

`Lo, this request is not but skile, y-wis, 365

Ne doute of reson, pardee, is ther noon.

I sette the worste that ye dredden this,

Men wolden wondren seen him come or goon:

Ther-ayeins answere I thus a-noon,

That every wight, but he be fool of kinde, 370

Wol deme it love of freendship in his minde.

`What? Who wol deme, though he see a man

To temple go, that he the images eteth?

Thenk eek how wel and wysly that he can

Governe him-self, that he no-thing foryeteth, 375

That, wher he cometh, he prys and thank him geteth;

And eek ther-to, he shal come here so selde,

What fors were it though al the toun behelde?

`Swich love of freendes regneth al this toun;

And wrye yow in that mantel ever-mo; 380

And god so wis be my savacioun,

As I have seyd, your beste is to do so.

But alwey, goode nece, to stinte his wo,

So lat your daunger sucred ben a lyte,

That of his deeth ye be nought for to wyte.' 385

Criseyde, which that herde him in this wyse,

Thoughte, `I shal fele what he meneth, y-wis.'

`Now, eem,' quod she, `what wolde ye devyse?

What is your reed I sholde doon of this?'

`That is wel seyd,' quod be. `certayn, best is 390

That ye him love ayein for his lovinge,

As love for love is skilful guerdoninge.

`Thenk eek, how elde wasteth every houre

In eche of yow a party of beautee;

And therfore, er that age thee devoure, 395

Go love, for, olde, ther wol no wight of thee.

Lat this proverbe a lore un-to yow be;

"To late y-war, quod Beautee, whan it paste;"

And elde daunteth daunger at the laste.

`The kinges fool is woned to cryen loude, 400

Whan that him thinketh a womman bereth hir hye,

"So longe mote ye live, and alle proude,

Til crowes feet be growe under your ye,

And sende yow thanne a mirour in to prye

In whiche that ye may see your face a-morwe!" 405

Nece, I bidde wisshe yow no more sorwe.'

With this he stente, and caste adoun the heed,

And she bigan to breste a-wepe anoon,

And seyde, `Allas, for wo! Why nere I deed?

For of this world the feith is al agoon! 410

Allas! What sholden straunge to me doon,

Whan he, that for my beste freend I wende,

Ret me to love, and sholde it me defende?

`Allas! I wolde han trusted, doutelees,

That if that I, thurgh my disaventure, 415

Had loved other him or Achilles,

Ector, or any mannes creature,

Ye nolde han had no mercy ne mesure

On me, but alwey had me in repreve;

This false world, allas! Who may it leve? 420

`What? Is this al the Ioye and al the feste?

Is this your reed, is this my blisful cas?

Is this the verray mede of your beheste?

Is al this peynted proces seyd, allas!

Right for this fyn? O lady myn, Pallas! 425

Thou in this dredful cas for me purveye;

For so astonied am I that I deye!'

With that she gan ful sorwfully to syke;

`A! May it be no bet?' quod Pandarus;

`By god, I shal no-more come here this wyke, 430

And god to-forn, that am mistrusted thus;

I see ful wel that ye sette lyte of us,

Or of our deeth! Allas! I woful wrecche!

Mighte he yet live, of me is nought to recche.

`O cruel god, O dispitouse Marte, 435

O Furies three of helle, on yow I crye!

So lat me never out of this hous departe,

If that I mente harm or vilanye!

But sith I see my lord mot nedes dye,

And I with him, here I me shryve, and seye 440

That wikkedly ye doon us bothe deye.

`But sith it lyketh yow that I be deed,

By Neptunus, that god is of the see,

Fro this forth shal I never eten breed

Til I myn owene herte blood may see; 445

For certayn, I wole deye as sone as he —'

And up he sterte, and on his wey he raughte,

Til she agayn him by the lappe caughte.

Criseyde, which that wel neigh starf for fere,

So as she was the ferfulleste wight 450

That mighte be, and herde eek with hir ere,

And saw the sorwful ernest of the knight,

And in his preyere eek saw noon unright,

And for the harm that mighte eek fallen more,

She gan to rewe and dredde hir wonder sore; 455

And thoughte thus, `Unhappes fallen thikke

Alday for love, and in swich maner cas,

As men ben cruel in hem-self and wikke;

And if this man slee here him-self, allas!

In my presence, it wol be no solas. 460

What men wolde of hit deme I can nat seye;

It nedeth me ful sleyly for to pleye.'

And with a sorwful syk she seyde thrye,

`A! Lord! What me is tid a sory chaunce!

For myn estat lyth in Iupartye, 465

And eek myn emes lyf lyth in balaunce;

But nathelees, with goddes governaunce,

I shal so doon, myn honour shal I kepe,

And eek his lyf;' and stinte for to wepe.

`Of harmes two, the lesse is for to chese; 470

Yet have I lever maken him good chere

In honour, than myn emes lyf to lese;

Ye seyn, ye no-thing elles me requere?'

`No, wis,' quod he, `myn owene nece dere.'

`Now wel,' quod she, `and I wol doon my peyne; 475

I shal myn herte ayeins my lust constreyne.

`But that I nil not holden him in honde,

Ne love a man, ne can I not, ne may

Ayeins my wil; but elles wol I fonde,

Myn honour sauf, plese him fro day to day; 480

Ther-to nolde I nought ones have seyd nay,

But that I dredde, as in my fantasye;

But cesse cause, ay cesseth maladye.

`And here I make a protestacioun,

That in this proces if ye depper go, 485

That certaynly, for no savacioun

Of yow, though that ye sterve bothe two,

Though al the world on o day be my fo,

Ne shal I never on him han other routhe. —'

`I graunte wel,' quod Pandare, `by my trouthe. 490

`But may I truste wel ther-to,' quod he,

`That of this thing that ye han hight me here,

Ye wol it holden trewly un-to me?'

`Ye, doutelees,' quod she, `myn uncle dere.'

`Ne that I shal han cause in this matere,' 495

Quod he, `to pleyne, or after yow to preche?'

`Why, no, parde; what nedeth more speche?'

Tho fillen they in othere tales glade,

Til at the laste, `O good eem,' quod she tho,

`For love of god, which that us bothe made, 500

Tel me how first ye wisten of his wo:

Wot noon of hit but ye?' He seyde, `No.'

`Can he wel speke of love?' quod she, `I preye,

Tel me, for I the bet me shal purveye.'

Tho Pandarus a litel gan to smyle, 505

And seyde, `By my trouthe, I shal yow telle.

This other day, nought gon ful longe whyle,

In-with the paleys-gardyn, by a welle,

Gan he and I wel half a day to dwelle,

Right for to speken of an ordenaunce, 510

How we the Grekes myghte disavaunce.

`Sone after that bigonne we to lepe,

And casten with our dartes to and fro,

Til at the laste he seyde he wolde slepe,

And on the gres a-doun he leyde him tho; 515

And I after gan rome to and fro

Til that I herde, as that I welk allone,

How he bigan ful wofully to grone.

`Tho gan I stalke him softely bihinde,

And sikerly, the sothe for to seyne, 520

As I can clepe ayein now to my minde,

Right thus to Love he gan him for to pleyne;

He seyde, "Lord! Have routhe up-on my peyne,

Al have I been rebel in myn entente;

Now, MEA CULPA, lord! I me repente. 525

`"O god, that at thy disposicioun

Ledest the fyn by Iuste purveyaunce,

Of every wight, my lowe confessioun

Accepte in gree, and send me swich penaunce

As lyketh thee, but from desesperaunce, 530

That may my goost departe awey fro thee,

Thou be my sheld, for thy benignitee.

`"For certes, lord, so soore hath she me wounded,

That stod in blak, with loking of hir yen,

That to myn hertes botme it is y-sounded, 535

Thorugh which I woot that I mot nedes dyen;

This is the worste, I dar me not bi-wryen;

And wel the hotter been the gledes rede,

That men hem wryen with asshen pale and dede."

`With that he smoot his heed adoun anoon, 540

And gan to motre, I noot what, trewely.

And I with that gan stille awey to goon,

And leet ther-of as no-thing wist hadde I,

And come ayein anoon and stood him by,

And seyde, "A-wake, ye slepen al to longe; 545

It semeth nat that love dooth yow longe,

`"That slepen so that no man may yow wake.

Who sey ever or this so dul a man?"

"Ye, freend," quod he, "do ye your hedes ake

For love, and lat me liven as I can." 550

But though that he for wo was pale and wan,

Yet made he tho as freshe a countenaunce

As though he shulde have led the newe daunce.

`This passed forth, til now, this other day,

It fel that I com roming al allone 555

Into his chaumbre, and fond how that he lay

Up-on his bed; but man so sore grone

Ne herde I never, and what that was his mone,

Ne wist I nought; for, as I was cominge,

Al sodeynly he lefte his compleyninge. 560

`Of which I took somwat suspecioun,

And neer I com, and fond he wepte sore;

And god so wis be my savacioun,

As never of thing hadde I no routhe more.

For neither with engyn, ne with no lore, 565

Unethes mighte I fro the deeth him kepe;

That yet fele I myn herte for him wepe.

`And god wot, never, sith that I was born,

Was I so bisy no man for to preche,

Ne never was to wight so depe y-sworn, 570

Or he me tolde who mighte been his leche.

But now to yow rehersen al his speche,

Or alle his woful wordes for to soune,

Ne bid me not, but ye wol see me swowne.

`But for to save his lyf, and elles nought, 575

And to non harm of yow, thus am I driven;

And for the love of god that us hath wrought,

Swich chere him dooth, that he and I may liven.

Now have I plat to yow myn herte shriven;

And sin ye woot that myn entente is clene, 580

Tak hede ther-of, for I non yvel mene.

`And right good thrift, I prey to god, have ye,

That han swich oon y-caught with-oute net;

And be ye wys, as ye ben fair to see,

Wel in the ring than is the ruby set. 585

Ther were never two so wel y-met,

Whan ye ben his al hool, as he is youre:

Ther mighty god yet graunte us see that houre!'

`Nay, therof spak I not, a, ha!' quod she,

`As helpe me god, ye shenden every deel!' 590

`O mercy, dere nece,' anoon quod he,

`What-so I spak, I mente nought but weel,

By Mars the god, that helmed is of steel;

Now beth nought wrooth, my blood, my nece dere.'

`Now wel,' quod she, `foryeven be it here!' 595

With this he took his leve, and hoom he wente;

And lord, he was glad and wel bigoon!

Criseyde aroos, no lenger she ne stente,

But straught in-to hir closet wente anoon,

And sette here doun as stille as any stoon, 600

And every word gan up and doun to winde,

That he hadde seyd, as it com hir to minde;

And wex somdel astonied in hir thought,

Right for the newe cas; but whan that she

Was ful avysed, tho fond she right nought 605

Of peril, why she oughte afered be.

For man may love, of possibilitee,

A womman so, his herte may to-breste,

And she nought love ayein, but-if hir leste.

But as she sat allone and thoughte thus, 610

Thascry aroos at skarmish al with-oute,

And men cryde in the strete, `See, Troilus

Hath right now put to flight the Grekes route!'

With that gan al hir meynee for to shoute,

`A! Go we see, caste up the latis wyde; 615

For thurgh this strete he moot to palays ryde;

`For other wey is fro the yate noon

Of Dardanus, ther open is the cheyne.'

With that com he and al his folk anoon

An esy pas rydinge, in routes tweyne, 620

Right as his happy day was, sooth to seyne,

For which, men say, may nought disturbed be

That shal bityden of necessitee.

This Troilus sat on his baye stede,

Al armed, save his heed, ful richely, 625

And wounded was his hors, and gan to blede,

On whiche he rood a pas, ful softely;

But swych a knightly sighte, trewely,

As was on him, was nought, with-outen faile,

To loke on Mars, that god is of batayle. 630

So lyk a man of armes and a knight

He was to seen, fulfild of heigh prowesse;

For bothe he hadde a body and a might

To doon that thing, as wel as hardinesse;

And eek to seen him in his gere him dresse, 635

So fresh, so yong, so weldy semed he,

It was an heven up-on him for to see.

His helm to-hewen was in twenty places,

That by a tissew heng, his bak bihinde,

His sheld to-dasshed was with swerdes and maces, 640

In which men mighte many an arwe finde

That thirled hadde horn and nerf and rinde;

And ay the peple cryde, `Here cometh our Ioye,

And, next his brother, holdere up of Troye!'

For which he wex a litel reed for shame, 645

Whan he the peple up-on him herde cryen,

That to biholde it was a noble game,

How sobreliche he caste doun his yen.

Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen,

And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke, 650

That to hir-self she seyde, `Who yaf me drinke?'

For of hir owene thought she wex al reed,

Remembringe hir right thus, `Lo, this is he

Which that myn uncle swereth he moot be deed,

But I on him have mercy and pitee;' 655

And with that thought, for pure a-shamed, she

Gan in hir heed to pulle, and that as faste,

Whyl he and al the peple for-by paste,

And gan to caste and rollen up and doun

With-inne hir thought his excellent prowesse, 660

And his estat, and also his renoun,

His wit, his shap, and eek his gentillesse;

But most hir favour was, for his distresse

Was al for hir, and thoughte it was a routhe

To sleen swich oon, if that he mente trouthe. 665

Now mighte som envyous Iangle thus,

`This was a sodeyn love; how mighte it be

That she so lightly lovede Troilus

Right for the firste sighte; ye, pardee?'

Now who-so seyth so, mote he never thee! 670

For every thing, a ginning hath it nede

Er al be wrought, with-outen any drede.

For I sey nought that she so sodeynly

Yaf him hir love, but that she gan enclyne

To lyke him first, and I have told yow why; 675

And after that, his manhod and his pyne

Made love with-inne hir for to myne,

For which, by proces and by good servyse,

He gat hir love, and in no sodeyn wyse.

And also blisful Venus, wel arayed, 680

Sat in hir seventhe hous of hevene tho,

Disposed wel, and with aspectes payed,

To helpen sely Troilus of his wo.

And, sooth to seyn, she nas not al a fo

To Troilus in his nativitee; 685

God woot that wel the soner spedde he.

Now lat us stinte of Troilus a throwe,

That rydeth forth, and lat us tourne faste

Un-to Criseyde, that heng hir heed ful lowe,

Ther-as she sat allone, and gan to caste 690

Wher-on she wolde apoynte hir at the laste,

If it so were hir eem ne wolde cesse,

For Troilus, up-on hir for to presse.

And, lord! So she gan in hir thought argue

In this matere of which I have yow told, 695

And what to doon best were, and what eschue,

That plyted she ful ofte in many fold.

Now was hir herte warm, now was it cold,

And what she thoughte somwhat shal I wryte,

As to myn auctor listeth for to endyte. 700

She thoughte wel that Troilus persone

She knew by sighte and eek his gentillesse,

And thus she seyde, `Al were it nought to done,

To graunte him love, yet, for his worthinesse,

It were honour, with pley and with gladnesse, 705

In honestee, with swich a lord to dele,

For myn estat, and also for his hele.

`Eek, wel wot I my kinges sone is he;

And sith he hath to see me swich delyt,

If I wolde utterly his sighte flee, 710

Peraunter he mighte have me in dispyt,

Thurgh which I mighte stonde in worse plyt;

Now were I wys, me hate to purchace,

With-outen nede, ther I may stonde in grace?

`In every thing, I woot, ther lyth mesure. 715

For though a man forbede dronkenesse,

He nought for-bet that every creature

Be drinkelees for alwey, as I gesse;

Eek sith I woot for me is his distresse,

I ne oughte not for that thing him despyse, 720

Sith it is so, he meneth in good wyse.

`And eek I knowe, of longe tyme agoon,

His thewes goode, and that he is not nyce.

Ne avauntour, seyth men, certein, he is noon;

To wys is he to do so gret a vyce; 725

Ne als I nel him never so cheryce,

That he may make avaunt, by Iuste cause;

He shal me never binde in swiche a clause.

`Now set a cas, the hardest is, y-wis,

Men mighten deme that he loveth me; 730

What dishonour were it un-to me, this?

May I him lette of that? Why nay, pardee!

I knowe also, and alday here and see,

Men loven wommen al this toun aboute;

Be they the wers? Why, nay, with-outen doute. 735

`I thenk eek how he able is for to have

Of al this noble toun the thriftieste,

To been his love, so she hir honour save;

For out and out he is the worthieste,

Save only Ector, which that is the beste. 740

And yet his lyf al lyth now in my cure,

But swich is love, and eek myn aventure.

`Ne me to love, a wonder is it nought;

For wel wot I my-self, so god me spede,

Al wolde I that noon wiste of this thought, 745

I am oon the fayreste, out of drede,

And goodlieste, who-so taketh hede;

And so men seyn in al the toun of Troye.

What wonder is it though he of me have Ioye?

`I am myn owene woman, wel at ese, 750

I thank it god, as after myn estat;

Right yong, and stonde unteyd in lusty lese,

With-outen Ialousye or swich debat;

Shal noon housbonde seyn to me "Chekmat!"

For either they ben ful of Ialousye, 755

Or maisterful, or loven novelrye.

`What shal I doon? To what fyn live I thus?

Shal I nat loven, in cas if that me leste?

What, par dieux! I am nought religious!

And though that I myn herte sette at reste 760

Upon this knight, that is the worthieste,

And kepe alwey myn honour and my name,

By alle right, it may do me no shame.'

But right as whan the sonne shyneth brighte,

In March, that chaungeth ofte tyme his face, 765

And that a cloud is put with wind to flighte

Which over-sprat the sonne as for a space,

A cloudy thought gan thorugh hir soule pace,

That over-spradde hir brighte thoughtes alle,

So that for fere almost she gan to falle. 770

That thought was this: `Allas! Sin I am free,

Sholde I now love, and putte in Iupartye

My sikernesse, and thrallen libertee?

Allas! How dorste I thenken that folye?

May I nought wel in other folk aspye 775

Hir dredful Ioye, hir constreynt, and hir peyne?

Ther loveth noon, that she nath why to pleyne.

`For love is yet the moste stormy lyf,

Right of him-self, that ever was bigonne;

For ever som mistrust, or nyce stryf, 780

Ther is in love, som cloud is over that sonne:

Ther-to we wrecched wommen no-thing conne,

Whan us is wo, but wepe and sitte and thinke;

Our wreche is this, our owene wo to drinke.

`Also these wikked tonges been so prest 785

To speke us harm, eek men be so untrewe,

That, right anoon as cessed is hir lest,

So cesseth love, and forth to love a newe:

But harm y-doon, is doon, who-so it rewe.

For though these men for love hem first to-rende, 790

Ful sharp biginning breketh ofte at ende.

`How ofte tyme hath it y-knowen be,

The treson, that to womman hath be do?

To what fyn is swich love, I can nat see,

Or wher bicometh it, whan it is ago; 795

Ther is no wight that woot, I trowe so,

Wher it bycomth; lo, no wight on it sporneth;

That erst was no-thing, in-to nought it torneth.

`How bisy, if I love, eek moste I be

To plesen hem that Iangle of love, and demen, 800

And coye hem, that they sey non harm of me?

For though ther be no cause, yet hem semen

Al be for harm that folk hir freendes quemen;

And who may stoppen every wikked tonge,

Or soun of belles whyl that they be ronge?' 805

And after that, hir thought bigan to clere,

And seyde, `He which that no-thing under-taketh,

No thing ne acheveth, be him looth or dere.'

And with an other thought hir herte quaketh;

Than slepeth hope, and after dreed awaketh; 810

Now hoot, now cold; but thus, bi-twixen tweye,

She rist hir up, and went hir for to pleye.

Adoun the steyre anoon-right tho she wente

In-to the gardin, with hir neces three,

And up and doun ther made many a wente, 815

Flexippe, she, Tharbe, and Antigone,

To pleyen, that it Ioye was to see;

And othere of hir wommen, a gret route,

hir folwede in the gardin al aboute.

This yerd was large, and rayled alle the aleyes, 820

And shadwed wel with blosmy bowes grene,

And benched newe, and sonded alle the weyes,

In which she walketh arm in arm bi-twene;

Til at the laste Antigone the shene

Gan on a Troian song to singe clere, 825

That it an heven was hir voys to here. —

She seyde, `O love, to whom I have and shal

Ben humble subgit, trewe in myn entente,

As I best can, to yow, lord, yeve ich al

For ever-more, myn hertes lust to rente. 830

For never yet thy grace no wight sente

So blisful cause as me, my lyf to lede

In alle Ioye and seurtee, out of drede.

`Ye, blisful god, han me so wel beset

In love, y-wis, that al that bereth lyf 835

Imaginen ne cowde how to ben bet;

For, lord, with-outen Ialousye or stryf,

I love oon which that is most ententyf

To serven wel, unwery or unfeyned,

That ever was, and leest with harm distreyned. 840

`As he that is the welle of worthinesse,

Of trouthe ground, mirour of goodliheed,

Of wit Appollo, stoon of sikernesse,

Of vertu rote, of lust findere and heed,

Thurgh which is alle sorwe fro me deed, 845

Y-wis, I love him best, so doth he me;

Now good thrift have he, wher-so that he be!

`Whom sholde I thanke but yow, god of love,

Of al this blisse, in which to bathe I ginne?

And thanked be ye, lord, for that I love! 850

This is the righte lyf that I am inne,

To flemen alle manere vyce and sinne:

This doth me so to vertu for to entende,

That day by day I in my wil amende.

`And who-so seyth that for to love is vyce, 855

Or thraldom, though he fele in it distresse,

He outher is envyous, or right nyce,

Or is unmighty, for his shrewednesse,

To loven; for swich maner folk, I gesse,

Defamen love, as no-thing of him knowe; 860

Thei speken, but they bente never his bowe.

`What is the sonne wers, of kinde righte,

Though that a man, for feblesse of his yen,

May nought endure on it to see for brighte?

Or love the wers, though wrecches on it cryen? 865

No wele is worth, that may no sorwe dryen.

And for-thy, who that hath an heed of verre,

Fro cast of stones war him in the werre!

`But I with al myn herte and al my might,

As I have seyd, wol love, un-to my laste, 870

My dere herte, and al myn owene knight,

In which myn herte growen is so faste,

And his in me, that it shal ever laste.

Al dredde I first to love him to biginne,

Now woot I wel, ther is no peril inne.' 875

And of hir song right with that word she stente,

And therwith-al, `Now, nece,' quod Criseyde,

`Who made this song with so good entente?'

Antigone answerde anoon, and seyde,

`Ma dame, y-wis, the goodlieste mayde 880

Of greet estat in al the toun of Troye;

And let hir lyf in most honour and Ioye.'

`Forsothe, so it semeth by hir song,'

Quod tho Criseyde, and gan ther-with to syke,

And seyde, `Lord, is there swich blisse among 885

These lovers, as they conne faire endyte?'

`Ye, wis,' quod freshe Antigone the whyte,

`For alle the folk that han or been on lyve

Ne conne wel the blisse of love discryve.

`But wene ye that every wrecche woot 890

The parfit blisse of love? Why, nay, y-wis;

They wenen al be love, if oon be hoot;

Do wey, do wey, they woot no-thing of this!

Men mosten axe at seyntes if it is

Aught fair in hevene; Why? For they conne telle; 895

And axen fendes, is it foul in helle.'

Criseyde un-to that purpos nought answerde,

But seyde, `Y-wis, it wol be night as faste.'

But every word which that she of hir herde,

She gan to prenten in hir herte faste; 900

And ay gan love hir lasse for to agaste

Than it dide erst, and sinken in hir herte,

That she wex somwhat able to converte.

The dayes honour, and the hevenes ye,

The nightes fo, al this clepe I the sonne, 905

Gan westren faste, and dounward for to wrye,

As he that hadde his dayes cours y-ronne;

And whyte thinges wexen dimme and donne

For lak of light, and sterres for to appere,

That she and al hir folk in wente y-fere. 910

So whan it lyked hir to goon to reste,

And voyded weren they that voyden oughte,

She seyde, that to slepe wel hir leste.

Hir wommen sone til hir bed hir broughte.

Whan al was hust, than lay she stille, and thoughte 915

Of al this thing the manere and the wyse.

Reherce it nedeth nought, for ye ben wyse.

A nightingale, upon a cedre grene,

Under the chambre-wal ther as she lay,

Ful loude sang ayein the mone shene, 920

Paraunter, in his briddes wyse, a lay

Of love, that made hir herte fresh and gay.

That herkned she so longe in good entente,

Til at the laste the dede sleep hir hente.

And as she sleep, anoon-right tho hir mette, 925

How that an egle, fethered whyt as boon,

Under hir brest his longe clawes sette,

And out hir herte he rente, and that a-noon,

And dide his herte in-to hir brest to goon,

Of which she nought agroos, ne no-thing smerte, 930

And forth he fleigh, with herte left for herte.

Now lat hir slepe, and we our tales holde

Of Troilus, that is to paleys riden,

Fro the scarmuch, of the whiche I tolde,

And in his chaumbre sit, and hath abiden 935

Til two or three of his messages yeden

For Pandarus, and soughten him ful faste,

Til they him founde and broughte him at the laste.

This Pandarus com leping in at ones,

And seiyde thus: `Who hath ben wel y-bete 940

To-day with swerdes, and with slinge-stones,

But Troilus, that hath caught him an hete?'

And gan to Iape, and seyde, `Lord, so ye swete!

But rys, and lat us soupe and go to reste;' 944

And he answerde him, `Do we as thee leste.'

With al the haste goodly that they mighte,

They spedde hem fro the souper un-to bedde;

And every wight out at the dore him dighte,

And wher him liste upon his wey him spedde;

But Troilus, that thoughte his herte bledde 950

For wo, til that he herde som tydinge,

He seyde, `Freend, shal I now wepe or singe?'

Quod Pandarus, `Ly stille and lat me slepe,

And don thyn hood, thy nedes spedde be;

And chese, if thou wolt singe or daunce or lepe; 955

At shorte wordes, thow shal trowe me. —

Sire, my nece wol do wel by thee,

And love thee best, by god and by my trouthe,

But lak of pursuit make it in thy slouthe.

`For thus ferforth I have thy work bigonne, 960

Fro day to day, til this day, by the morwe,

Hir love of freendship have I to thee wonne,

And also hath she leyd hir feyth to borwe.

Algate a foot is hameled of thy sorwe.'

What sholde I lenger sermon of it holde? 965

As ye han herd bifore, al he him tolde.

But right as floures, thorugh the colde of night

Y-closed, stoupen on hir stalke lowe,

Redressen hem a-yein the sonne bright,

And spreden on hir kinde cours by rowe, 970

Right so gan tho his eyen up to throwe

This Troilus, and seyde, `O Venus dere,

Thy might, thy grace, y-heried be it here!'

And to Pandare he held up bothe his hondes,

And seyde, `Lord, al thyn be that I have; 975

For I am hool, al brosten been my bondes;

A thousand Troians who so that me yave,

Eche after other, god so wis me save,

Ne mighte me so gladen; lo, myn herte,

It spredeth so for Ioye, it wol to-sterte! 980

`But Lord, how shal I doon, how shal I liven?

Whan shal I next my dere herte see?

How shal this longe tyme a-wey be driven,

Til that thou be ayein at hir fro me?

Thou mayst answere, "A-byd, a-byd," but he 985

That hangeth by the nekke, sooth to seyne,

In grete disese abydeth for the peyne.'

`Al esily, now, for the love of Marte,'

Quod Pandarus, `for every thing hath tyme;

So longe abyd til that the night departe; 990

For al so siker as thow lyst here by me,

And god toforn, I wol be there at pryme,

And for thy werk somwhat as I shal seye,

Or on som other wight this charge leye.

`For pardee, god wot, I have ever yit 995

Ben redy thee to serve, and to this night

Have I nought fayned, but emforth my wit

Don al thy lust, and shal with al my might.

Do now as I shal seye, and fare a-right;

And if thou nilt, wyte al thy-self thy care, 1000

On me is nought along thyn yvel fare.

`I woot wel that thow wyser art than I

A thousand fold, but if I were as thou,

God help me so, as I wolde outrely,

Right of myn owene hond, wryte hir right now 1005

A lettre, in which I wolde hir tellen how

I ferde amis, and hir beseche of routhe;

Now help thy-self, and leve it not for slouthe.

`And I my-self shal ther-with to hir goon;

And whan thou wost that I am with hir there, 1010

Worth thou up-on a courser right anoon,

Ye, hardily, right in thy beste gere,

And ryd forth by the place, as nought ne were,

And thou shalt finde us, if I may, sittinge

At som windowe, in-to the strete lokinge. 1015

`And if thee list, than maystow us saluwe,

And up-on me make thy contenaunce;

But, by thy lyf, be war and faste eschuwe

To tarien ought, god shilde us fro mischaunce!

Ryd forth thy wey, and hold thy governaunce; 1020

And we shal speke of thee som-what, I trowe,

Whan Thou art goon, to do thyne eres glowe!

`Touching thy lettre, thou art wys y-nough,

I woot thow nilt it digneliche endyte;

As make it with thise argumentes tough; 1025

Ne scrivenish or craftily thou it wryte;

Beblotte it with thy teres eek a lyte;

And if thou wryte a goodly word al softe,

Though it be good, reherce it not to ofte.

`For though the beste harpour upon lyve 1030

Wolde on the beste souned Ioly harpe

That ever was, with alle his fingres fyve,

Touche ay o streng, or ay o werbul harpe,

Were his nayles poynted never so sharpe,

It shulde maken every wight to dulle, 1035

To here his glee, and of his strokes fulle.

`Ne Iompre eek no discordaunt thing y-fere,

As thus, to usen termes of phisyk;

In loves termes, hold of thy matere

The forme alwey, and do that it be lyk; 1040

For if a peyntour wolde peynte a pyk

With asses feet, and hede it as an ape,

It cordeth nought; so nere it but a Iape.'

This counseyl lyked wel to Troilus;

But, as a dreedful lover, he seyde this: — 1045

`Allas, my dere brother Pandarus,

I am ashamed for to wryte, y-wis,

Lest of myn innocence I seyde a-mis,

Or that she nolde it for despyt receyve;

Thanne were I deed, ther mighte it no-thing weyve.' 1050

To that Pandare answerde, `If thee lest,

Do that I seye, and lat me therwith goon;

For by that lord that formed est and west,

I hope of it to bringe answere anoon

Right of hir hond, and if that thou nilt noon, 1055

Lat be; and sory mote he been his lyve,

Ayeins thy lust that helpeth thee to thryve.'

Quod Troilus, `Depardieux, I assente;

Sin that thee list, I will aryse and wryte;

And blisful god preye ich, with good entente, 1060

The vyage, and the lettre I shal endyte,

So spede it; and thou, Minerva, the whyte,

Yif thou me wit my lettre to devyse:'

And sette him doun, and wroot right in this wyse. —

First he gan hir his righte lady calle, 1065

His hertes lyf, his lust, his sorwes leche,

His blisse, and eek these othere termes alle,

That in swich cas these loveres alle seche;

And in ful humble wyse, as in his speche,

He gan him recomaunde un-to hir grace; 1070

To telle al how, it axeth muchel space.

And after this, ful lowly he hir prayde

To be nought wrooth, though he, of his folye,

So hardy was to hir to wryte, and seyde,

That love it made, or elles moste he dye, 1075

And pitously gan mercy for to crye;

And after that he seyde, and ley ful loude,

Him-self was litel worth, and lesse he coude;

And that she sholde han his conning excused,

That litel was, and eek he dredde hir so, 1080

And his unworthinesse he ay acused;

And after that, than gan he telle his woo;

But that was endeles, with-outen ho;

And seyde, he wolde in trouthe alwey him holde; —

And radde it over, and gan the lettre folde. 1085

And with his salte teres gan he bathe

The ruby in his signet, and it sette

Upon the wex deliverliche and rathe;

Ther-with a thousand tymes, er he lette,

He kiste tho the lettre that he shette, 1090

And seyde, `Lettre, a blisful destenee

Thee shapen is, my lady shal thee see.'

This Pandare took the lettre, and that by tyme

A-morwe, and to his neces paleys sterte,

And faste he swoor, that it was passed pryme, 1095

And gan to Iape, and seyde, `Y-wis, myn herte,

So fresh it is, al-though it sore smerte,

I may not slepe never a Mayes morwe;

I have a Ioly wo, a lusty sorwe.'

Criseyde, whan that she hir uncle herde, 1100

With dreedful herte, and desirous to here

The cause of his cominge, thus answerde:

`Now by your feyth, myn uncle,' quod she, `dere,

What maner windes gydeth yow now here?

Tel us your Ioly wo and your penaunce, 1105

How ferforth be ye put in loves daunce.'

`By god,' quod he, `I hoppe alwey bihinde!'

And she to-laugh, it thoughte hir herte breste.

Quod Pandarus, `Loke alwey that ye finde

Game in myn hood, but herkneth, if yow leste; 1110

Ther is right now come in-to toune a geste,

A Greek espye, and telleth newe thinges,

For which I come to telle yow tydinges.

`Into the gardin go we, and we shal here,

Al prevely, of this a long sermoun.' 1115

With that they wenten arm in arm y-fere

In-to the gardin from the chaumbre doun.

And whan that he so fer was that the soun

Of that he speke, no man here mighte,

He seyde hir thus, and out the lettre plighte, 1120

`Lo, he that is al hoolly youres free

Him recomaundeth lowly to your grace,

And sent to you this lettre here by me;

Avyseth you on it, whan ye han space,

And of som goodly answere yow purchace; 1125

Or, helpe me god, so pleynly for to seyne,

He may not longe liven for his peyne.'

Ful dredfully tho gan she stonde stille,

And took it nought, but al hir humble chere

Gan for to chaunge, and seyde, `Scrit ne bille, 1130

For love of god, that toucheth swich matere,

Ne bring me noon; and also, uncle dere,

To myn estat have more reward, I preye,

Than to his lust; what sholde I more seye?

`And loketh now if this be resonable, 1135

And letteth nought, for favour ne for slouthe,

To seyn a sooth; now were it covenable

To myn estat, by god, and by your trouthe,

To taken it, or to han of him routhe,

In harming of my-self or in repreve? 1140

Ber it a-yein, for him that ye on leve!'

This Pandarus gan on hir for to stare,

And seyde, `Now is this the grettest wonder

That ever I sey! Lat be this nyce fare!

To deethe mote I smiten be with thonder, 1145

If, for the citee which that stondeth yonder,

Wolde I a lettre un-to yow bringe or take

To harm of yow; what list yow thus it make?

`But thus ye faren, wel neigh alle and some,

That he that most desireth yow to serve, 1150

Of him ye recche leest wher he bicome,

And whether that he live or elles sterve.

But for al that that ever I may deserve,

Refuse it nought,' quod he, and hente hir faste,

And in hir bosom the lettre doun he thraste, 1155

And seyde hire, `Now cast it awey anoon,

That folk may seen and gauren on us tweye.'

Quod she, `I can abyde til they be goon,'

And gan to smyle, and seyde hym, `Eem, I preye,

Swich answere as yow list, your-self purveye, 1160

For trewely I nil no lettre wryte.'

`No? than wol I,' quod he, `so ye endyte.'

Therwith she lough, and seyde, `Go we dyne.'

And he gan at him-self to iape faste,

And seyde, `Nece, I have so greet a pyne 1165

For love, that every other day I faste' —

And gan his beste Iapes forth to caste;

And made hir so to laughe at his folye,

That she for laughter wende for to dye.

And whan that she was comen in-to halle, 1170

`Now, eem,' quod she, `we wol go dine anoon;'

And gan some of hir women to hir calle,

And streyght in-to hir chaumbre gan she goon;

But of hir besinesses, this was oon

A-monges othere thinges, out of drede, 1175

Ful prively this lettre for to rede;

Avysed word by word in every lyne,

And fond no lak, she thoughte he coude good;

And up it putte, and went hir in to dyne.

But Pandarus, that in a study stood, 1180

Er he was war, she took him by the hood,

And seyde, `Ye were caught er that ye wiste;'

`I vouche sauf,' quod he. `do what yow liste.'

Tho wesshen they, and sette hem doun and ete;

And after noon ful sleyly Pandarus 1185

Gan drawe him to the window next the strete,

And seyde, `Nece, who hath arayed thus

The yonder hous, that stant afor-yeyn us?'

`Which hous?' quod she, and gan for to biholde,

And knew it wel, and whos it was him tolde, 1190

And fillen forth in speche of thinges smale,

And seten in the window bothe tweye.

Whan Pandarus saw tyme un-to his tale,

And saw wel that hir folk were alle aweye,

`Now, nece myn, tel on,' quod he; `I seye, 1195

How liketh yow the lettre that ye woot?

Can he ther-on? For, by my trouthe, I noot.'

Therwith al rosy hewed tho wex she,

And gan to humme, and seyde, `So I trowe.'

`Aquyte him wel, for goddes love,' quod he; 1200

`My-self to medes wol the lettre sowe.'

And held his hondes up, and sat on knowe,

`Now, goode nece, be it never so lyte,

Yif me the labour, it to sowe and plyte.'

`Ye, for I can so wryte,' quod she tho; 1205

`And eek I noot what I sholde to him seye.'

`Nay, nece,' quod Pandare, `sey nat so;

Yet at the leste thanketh him, I preye,

Of his good wil, and doth him not to deye.

Now for the love of me, my nece dere, 1210

Refuseth not at this tyme my preyere.'

`Depar-dieux,' quod she, `God leve al be wel!

God help me so, this is the firste lettre

That ever I wroot, ye, al or any del.'

And in-to a closet, for to avyse hir bettre, 1215

She wente allone, and gan hir herte unfettre

Out of disdaynes prison but a lyte;

And sette hir doun, and gan a lettre wryte,

Of which to telle in short is myn entente

Theffect, as fer as I can understonde: — 1220

She thonked him of al that he wel mente

Towardes hir, but holden him in honde

She nolde nought, ne make hir-selven bonde

In love, but as his suster, him to plese,

She wolde fayn to doon his herte an ese. 1225

She shette it, and to Pandarus in gan goon,

There as he sat and loked in-to the strete,

And doun she sette hir by him on a stoon

Of Iaspre, up-on a quisshin gold y-bete,

And seyde, `As wisly helpe me god the grete, 1230

I never dide a thing with more peyne

Than wryte this, to which ye me constreyne;'

And took it him: He thonked hir and seyde,

`God woot, of thing ful ofte looth bigonne

Cometh ende good; and nece myn, Criseyde, 1235

That ye to him of hard now ben y-wonne

Oughte he be glad, by god and yonder sonne!

For-why men seyth, "Impressiounes lighte

Ful lightly been ay redy to the flighte.'

`But ye han pleyed tyraunt neigh to longe, 1240

And hard was it your herte for to grave;

Now stint, that ye no longer on it honge,

Al wolde ye the forme of daunger save.

But hasteth yow to doon him Ioye have;

For trusteth wel, to longe y-doon hardnesse 1245

Causeth despyt ful often, for destresse.'

And right as they declamed this matere,

Lo, Troilus, right at the stretes ende,

Com ryding with his tenthe some y-fere,

Al softely, and thiderward gan bende 1250

Ther-as they sete, as was his way to wende

To paleys-ward; and Pandare him aspyde,

And seyde, `Nece, y-see who cometh here ryde!

`O flee not in, he seeth us, I suppose;

Lest he may thinke that ye him eschuwe.' 1255

`Nay, nay,' quod she, and wex as reed as rose.

With that he gan hir humbly to saluwe

With dreedful chere, and oft his hewes muwe;

And up his look debonairly he caste,

And bekked on Pandare, and forth he paste. 1260

God woot if he sat on his hors a-right,

Or goodly was beseyn, that ilke day!

God woot wher he was lyk a manly knight!

What sholde I drecche, or telle of his aray?

Criseyde, which that alle these thinges say, 1265

To telle in short, hir lyked al y-fere,

His persone, his aray, his look, his chere,

His goodly manere, and his gentillesse,

So wel, that never, sith that she was born,

Ne hadde she swich routhe of his distresse; 1270

And how-so she hath hard ben her-biforn,

To god hope I, she hath now caught a thorn,

She shal not pulle it out this nexte wyke;

God sende mo swich thornes on to pyke!

Pandare, which that stood hir faste by, 1275

Felte iren hoot, and he bigan to smyte,

And seyde, `Nece, I pray yow hertely,

Tel me that I shal axen yow a lyte:

A womman, that were of his deeth to wyte,

With-outen his gilt, but for hir lakked routhe, 1280

Were it wel doon?' Quod she, `Nay, by my trouthe!'

`God help me so,' quod he, `ye sey me sooth.

Ye felen wel your-self that I not lye;

Lo, yond he rit!' Quod she, `Ye, so he dooth!'

`Wel,' quod Pandare, `as I have told yow thrye, 1285

Lat be youre nyce shame and youre folye,

And spek with him in esing of his herte;

Lat nycetee not do yow bothe smerte.'

But ther-on was to heven and to done;

Considered al thing, it may not be; 1290

And why, for shame; and it were eek to sone

To graunten him so greet a libertee.

`For playnly hir entente,' as seyde she,

`Was for to love him unwist, if she mighte,

And guerdon him with no-thing but with sighte.' 1295

But Pandarus thoughte, `It shal not be so,

If that I may; this nyce opinioun

Shal not be holden fully yeres two.'

What sholde I make of this a long sermoun?

He moste assente on that conclusioun, 1300

As for the tyme; and whan that it was eve,

And al was wel, he roos and took his leve.

And on his wey ful faste homward he spedde,

And right for Ioye he felte his herte daunce;

And Troilus he fond alone a-bedde, 1305

That lay as dooth these loveres, in a traunce,

Bitwixen hope and derk desesperaunce.

But Pandarus, right at his in-cominge,

He song, as who seyth, `Lo! Sumwhat I bringe,'

And seyde, `Who is in his bed so sone 1310

Y-buried thus?' `It am I, freend,' quod he.

`Who, Troilus? Nay, helpe me so the mone,'

Quod Pandarus, `Thou shalt aryse and see

A charme that was sent right now to thee,

The which can helen thee of thyn accesse, 1315

If thou do forth-with al thy besinesse.'

`Ye, through the might of god!' quod Troilus.

And Pandarus gan him the lettre take,

And seyde, `Pardee, god hath holpen us;

Have here a light, and loke on al this blake.' 1320

But ofte gan the herte glade and quake

Of Troilus, whyl that he gan it rede,

So as the wordes yave him hope or drede.

But fynally, he took al for the beste

That she him wroot, for somwhat he biheld 1325

On which, him thoughte, he mighte his herte reste,

Al covered she the wordes under sheld.

Thus to the more worthy part he held,

That, what for hope and Pandarus biheste,

His grete wo for-yede he at the leste. 1330

But as we may alday our-selven see,

Through more wode or col, the more fyr;

Right so encrees hope, of what it be,

Therwith ful ofte encreseth eek desyr;

Or, as an ook cometh of a litel spyr, 1335

So through this lettre, which that she him sente,

Encresen gan desyr, of which he brente.

Wherfore I seye alwey, that day and night

This Troilus gan to desiren more

Than he dide erst, thurgh hope, and dide his might 1340

To pressen on, as by Pandarus lore,

And wryten to hir of his sorwes sore

Fro day to day; he leet it not refreyde,

That by Pandare he wroot somwhat or seyde;

And dide also his othere observaunces 1345

That to a lovere longeth in this cas;

And, after that these dees turnede on chaunces,

So was he outher glad or seyde `Allas!'

And held after his gestes ay his pas;

And aftir swiche answeres as he hadde, 1350

So were his dayes sory outher gladde.

But to Pandare alwey was his recours,

And pitously gan ay til him to pleyne,

And him bisoughte of rede and som socours;

And Pandarus, that sey his wode peyne, 1355

Wex wel neigh deed for routhe, sooth to seyne,

And bisily with al his herte caste

Som of his wo to sleen, and that as faste;

And seyde, `Lord, and freend, and brother dere,

God woot that thy disese dooth me wo. 1360

But woltow stinten al this woful chere,

And, by my trouthe, or it be dayes two,

And god to-forn, yet shal I shape it so,

That thou shalt come in-to a certayn place,

Ther-as thou mayst thy-self hir preye of grace. 1365

`And certainly, I noot if thou it wost,

But tho that been expert in love it seye,

It is oon of the thinges that furthereth most,

A man to have a leyser for to preye,

And siker place his wo for to biwreye; 1370

For in good herte it moot som routhe impresse,

To here and see the giltles in distresse.

`Paraunter thenkestow: though it be so

That kinde wolde doon hir to biginne

To han a maner routhe up-on my wo, 1375

Seyth Daunger, "Nay, thou shalt me never winne;

So reuleth hir hir hertes goost with-inne,

That, though she bende, yet she stant on rote;

What in effect is this un-to my bote?"

`Thenk here-ayeins, whan that the sturdy ook, 1380

On which men hakketh ofte, for the nones,

Receyved hath the happy falling strook,

The grete sweigh doth it come al at ones,

As doon these rokkes or these milne-stones.

For swifter cours cometh thing that is of wighte, 1385

Whan it descendeth, than don thinges lighte.

`And reed that boweth doun for every blast,

Ful lightly, cesse wind, it wol aryse;

But so nil not an ook whan it is cast;

It nedeth me nought thee longe to forbyse. 1390

Men shal reioysen of a greet empryse

Acheved wel, and stant with-outen doute,

Al han men been the lenger ther-aboute.

`But, Troilus, yet tel me, if thee lest,

A thing now which that I shal axen thee; 1395

Which is thy brother that thou lovest best

As in thy verray hertes privetee?'

`Y-wis, my brother Deiphebus,' quod he.

`Now,' quod Pandare, `er houres twyes twelve,

He shal thee ese, unwist of it him-selve. 1400

`Now lat me allone, and werken as I may,'

Quod he; and to Deiphebus wente he tho

Which hadde his lord and grete freend ben ay;

Save Troilus, no man he lovede so.

To telle in short, with-outen wordes mo, 1405

Quod Pandarus, `I pray yow that ye be

Freend to a cause which that toucheth me.'

`Yis, pardee,' quod Deiphebus, `wel thow wost,

In al that ever I may, and god to-fore,

Al nere it but for man I love most, 1410

My brother Troilus; but sey wherfore

It is; for sith that day that I was bore,

I nas, ne never-mo to been I thinke,

Ayeins a thing that mighte thee for-thinke.'

Pandare gan him thonke, and to him seyde, 1415

`Lo, sire, I have a lady in this toun,

That is my nece, and called is Criseyde,

Which some men wolden doon oppressioun,

And wrongfully have hir possessioun:

Wherfor I of your lordship yow biseche 1420

To been our freend, with-oute more speche.'

Deiphebus him answerde, `O, is not this,

That thow spekest of to me thus straungely,

Criseyda, my freend?' He seyde, `Yis.'

`Than nedeth,' quod Deiphebus, `hardely, 1425

Na-more to speke, for trusteth wel, that I

Wol be hir champioun with spore and yerde;

I roughte nought though alle hir foos it herde.

`But tel me how, thou that woost al this matere,

How I might best avaylen? Now lat see.' 1430

Quod Pandarus; `If ye, my lord so dere,

Wolden as now don this honour to me,

To preyen hir to-morwe, lo, that she

Come un-to yow hir pleyntes to devyse,

Hir adversaries wolde of it agryse. 1435

`And if I more dorste preye as now,

And chargen yow to have so greet travayle,

To han som of your bretheren here with yow,

That mighten to hir cause bet avayle,

Than, woot I wel, she mighte never fayle 1440

For to be holpen, what at your instaunce,

What with hir othere freendes governaunce.'

Deiphebus, which that comen was, of kinde,

To al honour and bountee to consente,

Answerde, `It shal be doon; and I can finde 1445

Yet gretter help to this in myn entente.

What wolt thow seyn, if I for Eleyne sente

To speke of this? I trowe it be the beste;

For she may leden Paris as hir leste.

`Of Ector, which that is my lord, my brother, 1450

It nedeth nought to preye him freend to be;

For I have herd him, o tyme and eek other,

Speke of Criseyde swich honour, that he

May seyn no bet, swich hap to him hath she.

It nedeth nought his helpes for to crave; 1455

He shal be swich, right as we wole him have.

`Spek thou thy-self also to Troilus

On my bihalve, and pray him with us dyne.'

`Sire, al this shal be doon,' quod Pandarus;

And took his leve, and never gan to fyne, 1460

But to his neces hous, as streyt as lyne,

He com; and fond hir fro the mete aryse;

And sette him doun, and spak right in this wyse.

He seyde, `O veray god, so have I ronne!

Lo, nece myn, see ye nought how I swete? 1465

I noot whether ye the more thank me conne.

Be ye nought war how that fals Poliphete

Is now aboute eft-sones for to plete,

And bringe on yow advocacyes newe?'

`I? No,' quod she, and chaunged al hir hewe. 1470

`What is he more aboute, me to drecche

And doon me wrong? What shal I do, allas?

Yet of him-self no-thing ne wolde I recche,

Nere it for Antenor and Eneas,

That been his freendes in swich maner cas; 1475

But, for the love of god, myn uncle dere,

No fors of that; lat him have al y-fere;

`With-outen that I have ynough for us.'

`Nay,' quod Pandare, `it shal no-thing be so.

For I have been right now at Deiphebus, 1480

And Ector, and myne othere lordes mo,

And shortly maked eche of hem his fo;

That, by my thrift, he shal it never winne

For ought he can, whan that so he biginne.'

And as they casten what was best to done, 1485

Deiphebus, of his owene curtasye,

Com hir to preye, in his propre persone,

To holde him on the morwe companye

At diner, which she nolde not denye,

But goodly gan to his preyere obeye. 1490

He thonked hir, and wente up-on his weye.

Whanne this was doon, this Pandare up a-noon,

To telle in short, and forth gan for to wende

To Troilus, as stille as any stoon;

And al this thing he tolde him, word and ende; 1495

And how that he Deiphebus gan to blende;

And seyde him, `Now is tyme, if that thou conne,

To bere thee wel to-morwe, and al is wonne.

`Now spek, now prey, now pitously compleyne;

Lat not for nyce shame, or drede, or slouthe; 1500

Som-tyme a man mot telle his owene peyne;

Bileve it, and she shal han on thee routhe;

Thou shalt be saved by thy feyth, in trouthe.

But wel wot I, thou art now in a drede;

And what it is, I leye, I can arede. 1505

`Thow thinkest now, "How sholde I doon al this?

For by my cheres mosten folk aspye,

That for hir love is that I fare a-mis;

Yet hadde I lever unwist for sorwe dye."

Now thenk not so, for thou dost greet folye. 1510

For I right now have founden o manere

Of sleighte, for to coveren al thy chere.

`Thow shalt gon over night, and that as blyve,

Un-to Deiphebus hous, as thee to pleye,

Thy maladye a-wey the bet to dryve, 1515

For-why thou semest syk, soth for to seye.

Sone after that, doun in thy bed thee leye,

And sey, thow mayst no lenger up endure,

And ly right there, and byde thyn aventure.

`Sey that thy fever is wont thee for to take 1520

The same tyme, and lasten til a-morwe;

And lat see now how wel thou canst it make,

For, par-dee, syk is he that is in sorwe.

Go now, farwel! And, Venus here to borwe,

I hope, and thou this purpos holde ferme, 1525

Thy grace she shal fully ther conferme.'

Quod Troilus, `Y-wis, thou nedelees

Conseylest me, that sykliche I me feyne,

For I am syk in ernest, doutelees,

So that wel neigh I sterve for the peyne.' 1530

Quod Pandarus, `Thou shalt the bettre pleyne,

And hast the lasse need to countrefete;

For him men demen hoot that men seen swete.

`Lo, holde thee at thy triste cloos, and I

Shal wel the deer un-to thy bowe dryve.' 1535

Therwith he took his leve al softely,

And Troilus to paleys wente blyve.

So glad ne was he never in al his lyve;

And to Pandarus reed gan al assente,

And to Deiphebus hous at night he wente. 1540

What nedeth yow to tellen al the chere

That Deiphebus un-to his brother made,

Or his accesse, or his siklych manere,

How men gan him with clothes for to lade,

Whan he was leyd, and how men wolde him glade? 1545

But al for nought; he held forth ay the wyse

That ye han herd Pandare er this devyse.

But certeyn is, er Troilus him leyde,

Deiphebus had him prayed, over night,

To been a freend and helping to Criseyde. 1550

God woot, that he it grauntede anon-right,

To been hir fulle freend with al his might.

But swich a nede was to preye him thenne,

As for to bidde a wood man for to renne.

The morwen com, and neighen gan the tyme 1555

Of meel-tyd, that the faire quene Eleyne

Shoop hir to been, an houre after the pryme,

With Deiphebus, to whom she nolde feyne;

But as his suster, hoomly, sooth to seyne,

She com to diner in hir playn entente. 1560

But god and Pandare wiste al what this mente.

Com eek Criseyde, al innocent of this,

Antigone, hir sister Tarbe also;

But flee we now prolixitee best is,

For love of god, and lat us faste go 1565

Right to the effect, with-oute tales mo,

Why al this folk assembled in this place;

And lat us of hir saluinges pace.

Gret honour dide hem Deiphebus, certeyn,

And fedde hem wel with al that mighte lyke. 1570

But ever-more, `Allas!' was his refreyn,

`My goode brother Troilus, the syke,

Lyth yet"—and therwith-al he gan to syke;

And after that, he peyned him to glade

Hem as he mighte, and chere good he made. 1575

Compleyned eek Eleyne of his syknesse

So feithfully, that pitee was to here,

And every wight gan waxen for accesse

A leche anoon, and seyde, `In this manere

Men curen folk; this charme I wol yow lere.' 1580

But ther sat oon, al list hir nought to teche,

That thoughte, best coude I yet been his leche.

After compleynt, him gonnen they to preyse,

As folk don yet, whan som wight hath bigonne

To preyse a man, and up with prys him reyse 1585

A thousand fold yet hyer than the sonne: —

`He is, he can, that fewe lordes conne.'

And Pandarus, of that they wolde afferme,

He not for-gat hir preysing to conferme.

Herde al this thing Criseyde wel y-nough, 1590

And every word gan for to notifye;

For which with sobre chere hir herte lough;

For who is that ne wolde hir glorifye,

To mowen swich a knight don live or dye?

But al passe I, lest ye to longe dwelle; 1595

For for o fyn is al that ever I telle.

The tyme com, fro diner for to ryse,

And, as hem oughte, arisen everychoon,

And gonne a while of this and that devyse.

But Pandarus brak al this speche anoon, 1600

And seyde to Deiphebus, `Wole ye goon,

If youre wille be, as I yow preyde,

To speke here of the nedes of Criseyde?'

Eleyne, which that by the hond hir held,

Took first the tale, and seyde, `Go we blyve;' 1605

And goodly on Criseyde she biheld,

And seyde, `Ioves lat him never thryve,

That dooth yow harm, and bringe him sone of lyve!

And yeve me sorwe, but he shal it rewe,

If that I may, and alle folk be trewe.' 1610

`Tel thou thy neces cas,' quod Deiphebus

To Pandarus, `for thou canst best it telle.' —

`My lordes and my ladyes, it stant thus;

What sholde I lenger,' quod he, `do yow dwelle?'

He rong hem out a proces lyk a belle, 1615

Up-on hir fo, that highte Poliphete,

So heynous, that men mighte on it spete.

Answerde of this ech worse of hem than other,

And Poliphete they gonnen thus to warien,

`An-honged be swich oon, were he my brother; 1620

And so he shal, for it ne may not varien.'

What sholde I lenger in this tale tarien?

Pleynly, alle at ones, they hir highten

To been hir helpe in al that ever they mighten.

Spak than Eleyne, and seyde, `Pandarus, 1625

Woot ought my lord, my brother, this matere,

I mene, Ector? Or woot it Troilus?'

He seyde, `Ye, but wole ye now me here?

Me thinketh this, sith Troilus is here,

It were good, if that ye wolde assente, 1630

She tolde hir-self him al this, er she wente.

`For he wole have the more hir grief at herte,

By cause, lo, that she a lady is;

And, by your leve, I wol but right in sterte,

And do yow wite, and that anoon, y-wis, 1635

If that he slepe, or wole ought here of this.'

And in he lepte, and seyde him in his ere,

`God have thy soule, y-brought have I thy bere!'

To smylen of this gan tho Troilus,

And Pandarus, with-oute rekeninge, 1640

Out wente anoon to Eleyne and Deiphebus,

And seyde hem, `So there be no taryinge,

Ne more pres, he wol wel that ye bringe

Criseyda, my lady, that is here;

And as he may enduren, he wole here. 1645

`But wel ye woot, the chaumbre is but lyte,

And fewe folk may lightly make it warm;

Now loketh ye, (for I wol have no wyte,

To bringe in prees that mighte doon him harm

Or him disesen, for my bettre arm), 1650

Wher it be bet she byde til eft-sones;

Now loketh ye, that knowen what to doon is.

`I sey for me, best is, as I can knowe,

That no wight in ne wente but ye tweye,

But it were I, for I can, in a throwe, 1655

Reherce hir cas unlyk that she can seye;

And after this, she may him ones preye

To ben good lord, in short, and take hir leve;

This may not muchel of his ese him reve.

`And eek, for she is straunge, he wol forbere 1660

His ese, which that him thar nought for yow;

Eek other thing that toucheth not to here,

He wol me telle, I woot it wel right now,

That secret is, and for the tounes prow.'

And they, that no-thing knewe of his entente, 1665

With-oute more, to Troilus in they wente.

Eleyne, in al hir goodly softe wyse,

Gan him saluwe, and womanly to pleye,

And seyde, `Ywis, ye moste alweyes aryse!

Now fayre brother, beth al hool, I preye!' 1670

And gan hir arm right over his sholder leye,

And him with al hir wit to recomforte;

As she best coude, she gan him to disporte.

So after this quod she, `We yow biseke,

My dere brother, Deiphebus and I, 1675

For love of god, and so doth Pandare eke,

To been good lord and freend, right hertely,

Un-to Criseyde, which that certeinly

Receyveth wrong, as woot wel here Pandare,

That can hir cas wel bet than I declare.' 1680

This Pandarus gan newe his tunge affyle,

And al hir cas reherce, and that anoon;

Whan it was seyd, sone after, in a whyle,

Quod Troilus, `As sone as I may goon,

I wol right fayn with al my might ben oon, 1685

Have god my trouthe, hir cause to sustene.'

`Good thrift have ye,' quod Eleyne the quene.

Quod Pandarus, `And it your wille be

That she may take hir leve, er that she go?'

`O, elles god for-bede,' tho quod he, 1690

`If that she vouche sauf for to do so.'

And with that word quod Troilus, `Ye two,

Deiphebus, and my suster leef and dere,

To yow have I to speke of o matere,

`To been avysed by your reed the bettre': — 1695

And fond, as hap was, at his beddes heed,

The copie of a tretis and a lettre,

That Ector hadde him sent to axen reed,

If swich a man was worthy to ben deed,

Woot I nought who; but in a grisly wyse 1700

He preyede hem anoon on it avyse.

Deiphebus gan this lettre to unfolde

In ernest greet; so did Eleyne the quene;

And rominge outward, fast it gan biholde,

Downward a steyre, in-to an herber grene. 1705

This ilke thing they redden hem bi-twene;

And largely, the mountaunce of an houre,

Thei gonne on it to reden and to poure.

Now lat hem rede, and turne we anoon

To Pandarus, that gan ful faste prye 1710

That al was wel, and out he gan to goon

In-to the grete chambre, and that in hye,

And seyde, `God save al this companye!

Com, nece myn; my lady quene Eleyne

Abydeth yow, and eek my lordes tweyne. 1715

`Rys, take with yow your nece Antigone,

Or whom yow list, or no fors, hardily;

The lesse prees, the bet; com forth with me,

And loke that ye thonke humblely

Hem alle three, and, whan ye may goodly 1720

Your tyme y-see, taketh of hem your leve,

Lest we to longe his restes him bireve.'

Al innocent of Pandarus entente,

Quod tho Criseyde, `Go we, uncle dere';

And arm in arm inward with him she wente, 1725

Avysed wel hir wordes and hir chere;

And Pandarus, in ernestful manere,

Seyde, `Alle folk, for goddes love, I preye,

Stinteth right here, and softely yow pleye.

`Aviseth yow what folk ben here with-inne, 1730

And in what plyt oon is, god him amende!

And inward thus ful softely biginne;

Nece, I conjure and heighly yow defende,

On his half, which that sowle us alle sende,

And in the vertue of corounes tweyne, 1735

Slee nought this man, that hath for yow this peyne!

`Fy on the devel! Thenk which oon he is,

And in what plyt he lyth; com of anoon;

Thenk al swich taried tyd, but lost it nis!

That wol ye bothe seyn, whan ye ben oon. 1740

Secoundelich, ther yet devyneth noon

Up-on yow two; come of now, if ye conne;

Whyl folk is blent, lo, al the tyme is wonne!

`In titering, and pursuite, and delayes,

The folk devyne at wagginge of a stree; 1745

And though ye wolde han after merye dayes,

Than dar ye nought, and why? For she, and she

Spak swich a word; thus loked he, and he;

Lest tyme I loste, I dar not with yow dele;

Com of therfore, and bringeth him to hele.' 1750

But now to yow, ye lovers that ben here,

Was Troilus nought in a cankedort,

That lay, and mighte whispringe of hem here,

And thoughte, `O lord, right now renneth my sort

Fully to dye, or han anoon comfort'; 1755

And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preye

Of love; O mighty god, what shal he seye?

Explicit Secundus Liber.

BOOK III. Incipit prohemium tercii libri.

O blisful light of whiche the bemes clere 1

Adorneth al the thridde hevene faire!

O sonnes lief, O Ioves doughter dere,

Plesaunce of love, O goodly debonaire,

In gentil hertes ay redy to repaire! 5

O verray cause of hele and of gladnesse,

Y-heried be thy might and thy goodnesse!

In hevene and helle, in erthe and salte see

Is felt thy might, if that I wel descerne;

As man, brid, best, fish, herbe and grene tree 10

Thee fele in tymes with vapour eterne.

God loveth, and to love wol nought werne;

And in this world no lyves creature,

With-outen love, is worth, or may endure.

Ye Ioves first to thilke effectes glade, 15

Thorugh which that thinges liven alle and be,

Comeveden, and amorous him made

On mortal thing, and as yow list, ay ye

Yeve him in love ese or adversitee;

And in a thousand formes doun him sente 20

For love in erthe, and whom yow liste, he hente.

Ye fierse Mars apeysen of his ire,

And, as yow list, ye maken hertes digne;

Algates, hem that ye wol sette a-fyre,

They dreden shame, and vices they resigne; 25

Ye do hem corteys be, fresshe and benigne,

And hye or lowe, after a wight entendeth;

The Ioyes that he hath, your might him sendeth.

Ye holden regne and hous in unitee;

Ye soothfast cause of frendship been also; 30

Ye knowe al thilke covered qualitee

Of thinges which that folk on wondren so,

Whan they can not construe how it may io,

She loveth him, or why he loveth here;

As why this fish, and nought that, comth to were. 35

Ye folk a lawe han set in universe,

And this knowe I by hem that loveres be,

That who-so stryveth with yow hath the werse:

Now, lady bright, for thy benignitee,

At reverence of hem that serven thee, 40

Whos clerk I am, so techeth me devyse

Som Ioye of that is felt in thy servyse.

Ye in my naked herte sentement

Inhelde, and do me shewe of thy swetnesse. —

Caliope, thy vois be now present, 45

For now is nede; sestow not my destresse,

How I mot telle anon-right the gladnesse

Of Troilus, to Venus heryinge?

To which gladnes, who nede hath, god him bringe!

Explicit prohemium Tercii Libri.

Incipit Liber Tercius.

Lay al this mene whyle Troilus, 50

Recordinge his lessoun in this manere,

`Ma fey!' thought he, `Thus wole I seye and thus;

Thus wole I pleyne unto my lady dere;

That word is good, and this shal be my chere;

This nil I not foryeten in no wyse.' 55

God leve him werken as he can devyse!

And, lord, so that his herte gan to quappe,

Heringe hir come, and shorte for to syke!

And Pandarus, that ledde hir by the lappe,

Com ner, and gan in at the curtin pyke, 60

And seyde, `God do bote on alle syke!

See, who is here yow comen to visyte;

Lo, here is she that is your deeth to wyte.'

Ther-with it semed as he wepte almost;

`A ha,' quod Troilus so rewfully, 65

`Wher me be wo, O mighty god, thow wost!

Who is al there? I se nought trewely.'

`Sire,' quod Criseyde, `it is Pandare and I.'

`Ye, swete herte? Allas, I may nought ryse

To knele, and do yow honour in som wyse.' 70

And dressede him upward, and she right tho

Gan bothe here hondes softe upon him leye,

`O, for the love of god, do ye not so

To me,' quod she, `Ey! What is this to seye?

Sire, come am I to yow for causes tweye; 75

First, yow to thonke, and of your lordshipe eke

Continuance I wolde yow biseke.'

This Troilus, that herde his lady preye

Of lordship him, wex neither quik ne deed,

Ne mighte a word for shame to it seye, 80

Al-though men sholde smyten of his heed.

But lord, so he wex sodeinliche reed,

And sire, his lesson, that he wende conne,

To preyen hir, is thurgh his wit y-ronne.

Cryseyde al this aspyede wel y-nough, 85

For she was wys, and lovede him never-the-lasse,

Al nere he malapert, or made it tough,

Or was to bold, to singe a fool a masse.

But whan his shame gan somwhat to passe,

His resons, as I may my rymes holde, 90

I yow wole telle, as techen bokes olde.

In chaunged vois, right for his verray drede,

Which vois eek quook, and ther-to his manere

Goodly abayst, and now his hewes rede,

Now pale, un-to Criseyde, his lady dere, 95

With look doun cast and humble yolden chere,

Lo, the alderfirste word that him asterte

Was, twyes, `Mercy, mercy, swete herte!'

And stinte a whyl, and whan he mighte out-bringe,

The nexte word was, `God wot, for I have, 100

As feyfully as I have had konninge,

Ben youres, also god so my sowle save;

And shal til that I, woful wight, be grave.

And though I dar ne can un-to yow pleyne,

Y-wis, I suffre nought the lasse peyne. 105

`Thus muche as now, O wommanliche wyf,

I may out-bringe, and if this yow displese,

That shal I wreke upon myn owne lyf

Right sone, I trowe, and doon your herte an ese,

If with my deeth your herte I may apese. 110

But sin that ye han herd me som-what seye,

Now recche I never how sone that I deye.'

Ther-with his manly sorwe to biholde,

It mighte han maad an herte of stoon to rewe;

And Pandare weep as he to watre wolde, 115

And poked ever his nece newe and newe,

And seyde, `Wo bigon ben hertes trewe!

For love of god, make of this thing an ende,

Or slee us bothe at ones, er that ye wende.'

`I? What?' quod she, `By god and by my trouthe, 120

I noot nought what ye wilne that I seye.'

`I? What?' quod he, `That ye han on him routhe,

For goddes love, and doth him nought to deye.'

`Now thanne thus,' quod she, `I wolde him preye

To telle me the fyn of his entente; 125

Yet wist I never wel what that he mente.'

`What that I mene, O swete herte dere?'

Quod Troilus, `O goodly, fresshe free!

That, with the stremes of your eyen clere,

Ye wolde som-tyme freendly on me see, 130

And thanne agreen that I may ben he,

With-oute braunche of vyce on any wyse,

In trouthe alwey to doon yow my servyse,

`As to my lady right and chief resort,

With al my wit and al my diligence, 135

And I to han, right as yow list, comfort,

Under your yerde, egal to myn offence,

As deeth, if that I breke your defence;

And that ye deigne me so muche honoure,

Me to comaunden ought in any houre. 140

`And I to ben your verray humble trewe,

Secret, and in my paynes pacient,

And ever-mo desire freshly newe,

To serven, and been y-lyke ay diligent,

And, with good herte, al holly your talent 145

Receyven wel, how sore that me smerte,

Lo, this mene I, myn owene swete herte.'

Quod Pandarus, `Lo, here an hard request,

And resonable, a lady for to werne!

Now, nece myn, by natal Ioves fest, 150

Were I a god, ye sholde sterve as yerne,

That heren wel, this man wol no-thing yerne

But your honour, and seen him almost sterve,

And been so looth to suffren him yow serve.'

With that she gan hir eyen on him caste 155

Ful esily, and ful debonairly,

Avysing hir, and hyed not to faste

With never a word, but seyde him softely,

`Myn honour sauf, I wol wel trewely,

And in swich forme as he can now devyse, 160

Receyven him fully to my servyse,

`Biseching him, for goddes love, that he

Wolde, in honour of trouthe and gentilesse,

As I wel mene, eek mene wel to me,

And myn honour, with wit and besinesse 165

Ay kepe; and if I may don him gladnesse,

From hennes-forth, y-wis, I nil not feyne:

Now beeth al hool; no lenger ye ne pleyne.

`But nathelees, this warne I yow,' quod she,

`A kinges sone al-though ye be, y-wis, 170

Ye shal na-more have soverainetee

Of me in love, than right in that cas is;

Ne I nil forbere, if that ye doon a-mis,

To wrathen yow; and whyl that ye me serve,

Cherycen yow right after ye deserve. 175

`And shortly, dere herte and al my knight,

Beth glad, and draweth yow to lustinesse,

And I shal trewely, with al my might,

Your bittre tornen al in-to swetenesse.

If I be she that may yow do gladnesse, 180

For every wo ye shal recovere a blisse';

And him in armes took, and gan him kisse.

Fil Pandarus on knees, and up his eyen

To hevene threw, and held his hondes hye,

`Immortal god!' quod he, `That mayst nought dyen, 185

Cupide I mene, of this mayst glorifye;

And Venus, thou mayst maken melodye;

With-outen hond, me semeth that in the towne,

For this merveyle, I here ech belle sowne.

`But ho! No more as now of this matere, 190

For-why this folk wol comen up anoon,

That han the lettre red; lo, I hem here.

But I coniure thee, Criseyde, and oon,

And two, thou Troilus, whan thow mayst goon,

That at myn hous ye been at my warninge, 195

For I ful wel shal shape youre cominge;

`And eseth ther your hertes right y-nough;

And lat see which of yow shal bere the belle

To speke of love a-right!' ther-with he lough,

`For ther have ye a layser for to telle.' 200

Quod Troilus, `How longe shal I dwelle

Er this be doon?' Quod he, `Whan thou mayst ryse,

This thing shal be right as I yow devyse.'

With that Eleyne and also Deiphebus

Tho comen upward, right at the steyres ende; 205

And Lord, so than gan grone Troilus,

His brother and his suster for to blende.

Quod Pandarus, `It tyme is that we wende;

Tak, nece myn, your leve at alle three,

And lat hem speke, and cometh forth with me.' 210

She took hir leve at hem ful thriftily,

As she wel coude, and they hir reverence

Un-to the fulle diden hardely,

And speken wonder wel, in hir absence,

Of hir, in preysing of hir excellence, 215

Hir governaunce, hir wit; and hir manere

Commendeden, it Ioye was to here.

Now lat hir wende un-to hir owne place,

And torne we to Troilus a-yein,

That gan ful lightly of the lettre passe 220

That Deiphebus hadde in the gardin seyn.

And of Eleyne and him he wolde fayn

Delivered been, and seyde that him leste

To slepe, and after tales have reste.

Eleyne him kiste, and took hir leve blyve, 225

Deiphebus eek, and hoom wente every wight;

And Pandarus, as faste as he may dryve,

To Troilus tho com, as lyne right;

And on a paillet, al that glade night,

By Troilus he lay, with mery chere, 230

To tale; and wel was hem they were y-fere.

Whan every wight was voided but they two,

And alle the dores were faste y-shette,

To telle in short, with-oute wordes mo,

This Pandarus, with-outen any lette, 235

Up roos, and on his beddes syde him sette,

And gan to speken in a sobre wyse

To Troilus, as I shal yow devyse:

`Myn alderlevest lord, and brother dere,

God woot, and thou, that it sat me so sore, 240

When I thee saw so languisshing to-yere,

For love, of which thy wo wex alwey more;

That I, with al my might and al my lore,

Have ever sithen doon my bisinesse

To bringe thee to Ioye out of distresse, 245

`And have it brought to swich plyt as thou wost,

So that, thorugh me, thow stondest now in weye

To fare wel, I seye it for no bost,

And wostow which? For shame it is to seye,

For thee have I bigonne a gamen pleye 250

Which that I never doon shal eft for other,

Al-though he were a thousand fold my brother.

`That is to seye, for thee am I bicomen,

Bitwixen game and ernest, swich a mene

As maken wommen un-to men to comen; 255

Al sey I nought, thou wost wel what I mene.

For thee have I my nece, of vyces clene,

So fully maad thy gentilesse triste,

That al shal been right as thy-selve liste.

`But god, that al wot, take I to witnesse, 260

That never I this for coveityse wroughte,

But only for to abregge that distresse,

For which wel nygh thou deydest, as me thoughte.

But, gode brother, do now as thee oughte,

For goddes love, and kep hir out of blame, 265

Sin thou art wys, and save alwey hir name.

`For wel thou wost, the name as yet of here

Among the peple, as who seyth, halwed is;

For that man is unbore, I dar wel swere,

That ever wiste that she dide amis. 270

But wo is me, that I, that cause al this,

May thenken that she is my nece dere,

And I hir eem, and trattor eek y-fere!

`And were it wist that I, through myn engyn,

Hadde in my nece y-put this fantasye, 275

To do thy lust, and hoolly to be thyn,

Why, al the world up-on it wolde crye,

And seye, that I the worste trecherye

Dide in this cas, that ever was bigonne,

And she for-lost, and thou right nought y-wonne. 280

`Wher-fore, er I wol ferther goon a pas,

Yet eft I thee biseche and fully seye,

That privetee go with us in this cas;

That is to seye, that thou us never wreye;

And be nought wrooth, though I thee ofte preye 285

To holden secree swich an heigh matere;

For skilful is, thow wost wel, my preyere.

`And thenk what wo ther hath bitid er this,

For makinge of avantes, as men rede;

And what mischaunce in this world yet ther is, 290

Fro day to day, right for that wikked dede;

For which these wyse clerkes that ben dede

Han ever yet proverbed to us yonge,

That "Firste vertu is to kepe tonge."

`And, nere it that I wilne as now tabregge 295

Diffusioun of speche, I coude almost

A thousand olde stories thee alegge

Of wommen lost, thorugh fals and foles bost;

Proverbes canst thy-self y-nowe, and wost,

Ayeins that vyce, for to been a labbe, 300

Al seyde men sooth as often as they gabbe.

`O tonge, allas! So often here-biforn

Hastow made many a lady bright of hewe

Seyd, "Welawey! The day that I was born!"

And many a maydes sorwes for to newe; 305

And, for the more part, al is untrewe

That men of yelpe, and it were brought to preve;

Of kinde non avauntour is to leve.

`Avauntour and a lyere, al is on;

As thus: I pose, a womman graunte me 310

Hir love, and seyth that other wol she non,

And I am sworn to holden it secree,

And after I go telle it two or three;

Y-wis, I am avauntour at the leste,

And lyere, for I breke my biheste. 315

`Now loke thanne, if they be nought to blame,

Swich maner folk; what shal I clepe hem, what,

That hem avaunte of wommen, and by name,

That never yet bihighte hem this ne that,

Ne knewe hem more than myn olde hat? 320

No wonder is, so god me sende hele,

Though wommen drede with us men to dele.

`I sey not this for no mistrust of yow,

Ne for no wys man, but for foles nyce,

And for the harm that in the world is now, 325

As wel for foly ofte as for malyce;

For wel wot I, in wyse folk, that vyce

No womman drat, if she be wel avysed;

For wyse ben by foles harm chastysed.

`But now to purpos; leve brother dere, 330

Have al this thing that I have seyd in minde,

And keep thee clos, and be now of good chere,

For at thy day thou shalt me trewe finde.

I shal thy proces sette in swich a kinde,

And god to-forn, that it shall thee suffyse, 335

For it shal been right as thou wolt devyse.

`For wel I woot, thou menest wel, parde;

Therfore I dar this fully undertake.

Thou wost eek what thy lady graunted thee,

And day is set, the chartres up to make. 340

Have now good night, I may no lenger wake;

And bid for me, sin thou art now in blisse,

That god me sende deeth or sone lisse.'

Who mighte telle half the Ioye or feste

Which that the sowle of Troilus tho felte, 345

Heringe theffect of Pandarus biheste?

His olde wo, that made his herte swelte,

Gan tho for Ioye wasten and to-melte,

And al the richesse of his sykes sore

At ones fledde, he felte of hem no more. 350

But right so as these holtes and these hayes,

That han in winter dede been and dreye,

Revesten hem in grene, whan that May is,

Whan every lusty lyketh best to pleye;

Right in that selve wyse, sooth to seye, 355

Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of Ioye,

That gladder was ther never man in Troye.

And gan his look on Pandarus up caste

Ful sobrely, and frendly for to see,

And seyde, `Freend, in Aprille the laste, 360

As wel thou wost, if it remembre thee,

How neigh the deeth for wo thou founde me;

And how thou didest al thy bisinesse

To knowe of me the cause of my distresse.

`Thou wost how longe I it for-bar to seye 365

To thee, that art the man that I best triste;

And peril was it noon to thee by-wreye,

That wiste I wel; but tel me, if thee liste,

Sith I so looth was that thy-self it wiste,

How dorst I mo tellen of this matere, 370

That quake now, and no wight may us here?

`But natheles, by that god I thee swere,

That, as him list, may al this world governe,

And, if I lye, Achilles with his spere

Myn herte cleve, al were my lyf eterne, 375

As I am mortal, if I late or yerne

Wolde it biwreye, or dorste, or sholde conne,

For al the good that god made under sonne;

`That rather deye I wolde, and determyne,

As thinketh me, now stokked in presoun, 380

In wrecchednesse, in filthe, and in vermyne,

Caytif to cruel king Agamenoun;

And this, in alle the temples of this toun

Upon the goddes alle, I wol thee swere,

To-morwe day, if that thee lyketh here. 385

`And that thou hast so muche y-doon for me,

That I ne may it never-more deserve,

This knowe I wel, al mighte I now for thee

A thousand tymes on a morwen sterve.

I can no more, but that I wol thee serve 390

Right as thy sclave, whider-so thou wende,

For ever-more, un-to my lyves ende!

`But here, with al myn herte, I thee biseche,

That never in me thou deme swich folye

As I shal seyn; me thoughte, by thy speche, 395

That this, which thou me dost for companye,

I sholde wene it were a bauderye;

I am nought wood, al-if I lewed be;

It is not so, that woot I wel, pardee.

`But he that goth, for gold or for richesse, 400

On swich message, calle him what thee list;

And this that thou dost, calle it gentilesse,

Compassioun, and felawship, and trist;

Departe it so, for wyde-where is wist

How that there is dyversitee requered 405

Bitwixen thinges lyke, as I have lered.

`And, that thou knowe I thenke nought ne wene

That this servyse a shame be or Iape,

I have my faire suster Polixene,

Cassandre, Eleyne, or any of the frape; 410

Be she never so faire or wel y-shape,

Tel me, which thou wilt of everichone,

To han for thyn, and lat me thanne allone.

`But, sith that thou hast don me this servyse

My lyf to save, and for noon hope of mede, 415

So, for the love of god, this grete empryse

Performe it out; for now is moste nede.

For high and low, with-outen any drede,

I wol alwey thyne hestes alle kepe;

Have now good night, and lat us bothe slepe.' 420

Thus held him ech of other wel apayed,

That al the world ne mighte it bet amende;

And, on the morwe, whan they were arayed,

Ech to his owene nedes gan entende.

But Troilus, though as the fyr he brende 425

For sharp desyr of hope and of plesaunce,

He not for-gat his gode governaunce.

But in him-self with manhod gan restreyne

Ech rakel dede and ech unbrydled chere,

That alle tho that liven, sooth to seyne, 430

Ne sholde han wist, by word or by manere,

What that he mente, as touching this matere.

From every wight as fer as is the cloude

He was, so wel dissimulen he coude.

And al the whyl which that I yow devyse, 435

This was his lyf; with al his fulle might,

By day he was in Martes high servyse,

This is to seyn, in armes as a knight;

And for the more part, the longe night

He lay, and thoughte how that he mighte serve 440

His lady best, hir thank for to deserve.

Nil I nought swere, al-though he lay softe,

That in his thought he nas sumwhat disesed,

Ne that he tornede on his pilwes ofte,

And wolde of that him missed han ben sesed; 445

But in swich cas men is nought alwey plesed,

For ought I wot, no more than was he;

That can I deme of possibilitee.

But certeyn is, to purpos for to go,

That in this whyle, as writen is in geste, 450

He say his lady som-tyme; and also

She with him spak, whan that she dorste or leste,

And by hir bothe avys, as was the beste,

Apoynteden ful warly in this nede,

So as they dorste, how they wolde procede. 455

But it was spoken in so short a wyse,

In swich awayt alwey, and in swich fere,

Lest any wyght devynen or devyse

Wolde of hem two, or to it leye an ere,

That al this world so leef to hem ne were 460

As that Cupido wolde hem grace sende

To maken of hir speche aright an ende.

But thilke litel that they spake or wroughte,

His wyse goost took ay of al swich hede,

It semed hir, he wiste what she thoughte 465

With-outen word, so that it was no nede

To bidde him ought to done, or ought for-bede;

For which she thought that love, al come it late,

Of alle Ioye hadde opned hir the yate.

And shortly of this proces for to pace, 470

So wel his werk and wordes he bisette,

That he so ful stood in his lady grace,

That twenty thousand tymes, or she lette,

She thonked god she ever with him mette;

So coude he him governe in swich servyse, 475

That al the world ne might it bet devyse.

For-why she fond him so discreet in al,

So secret, and of swich obeisaunce,

That wel she felte he was to hir a wal

Of steel, and sheld from every displesaunce; 480

That, to ben in his gode governaunce,

So wys he was, she was no more afered,

I mene, as fer as oughte ben requered.

And Pandarus, to quike alwey the fyr,

Was evere y-lyke prest and diligent; 485

To ese his frend was set al his desyr.

He shof ay on, he to and fro was sent;

He lettres bar whan Troilus was absent.

That never man, as in his freendes nede,

Ne bar him bet than he, with-outen drede. 490

But now, paraunter, som man wayten wolde

That every word, or sonde, or look, or chere

Of Troilus that I rehersen sholde,

In al this whyle un-to his lady dere;

I trowe it were a long thing for to here; 495

Or of what wight that stant in swich disioynte,

His wordes alle, or every look, to poynte.

For sothe, I have not herd it doon er this,

In storye noon, ne no man here, I wene;

And though I wolde I coude not, y-wis; 500

For ther was som epistel hem bitwene,

That wolde, as seyth myn auctor, wel contene

Neigh half this book, of which him list not wryte;

How sholde I thanne a lyne of it endyte?

But to the grete effect: than sey I thus, 505

That stonding in concord and in quiete,

Thise ilke two, Criseyde and Troilus,

As I have told, and in this tyme swete,

Save only often mighte they not mete,

Ne layser have hir speches to fulfelle, 510

That it befel right as I shal yow telle.

That Pandarus, that ever dide his might

Right for the fyn that I shal speke of here,

As for to bringe to his hous som night

His faire nece, and Troilus y-fere, 515

Wher-as at leyser al this heigh matere,

Touching hir love, were at the fulle up-bounde,

Hadde out of doute a tyme to it founde.

For he with greet deliberacioun

Hadde every thing that her-to mighte avayle 520

Forn-cast, and put in execucioun.

And neither laft, for cost ne for travayle;

Come if hem list, hem sholde no-thing fayle;

And for to been in ought espyed there,

That, wiste he wel, an inpossible were. 525

Dredelees, it cleer was in the wind

Of every pye and every lette-game;

Now al is wel, for al the world is blind

In this matere, bothe fremed and tame.

This timbur is al redy up to frame; 530

Us lakketh nought but that we witen wolde

A certein houre, in which she comen sholde.

And Troilus, that al this purveyaunce

Knew at the fulle, and waytede on it ay,

Hadde here-up-on eek made gret ordenaunce, 535

And founde his cause, and ther-to his aray,

If that he were missed, night or day,

Ther-whyle he was aboute this servyse,

That he was goon to doon his sacrifyse,

And moste at swich a temple alone wake, 540

Answered of Appollo for to be;

And first to seen the holy laurer quake,

Er that Apollo spak out of the tree,

To telle him next whan Grekes sholden flee,

And forthy lette him no man, god forbede, 545

But preye Apollo helpen in this nede.

Now is ther litel more for to doone,

But Pandare up, and shortly for to seyne,

Right sone upon the chaunging of the mone,

Whan lightles is the world a night or tweyne, 550

And that the welken shoop him for to reyne,

He streight a-morwe un-to his nece wente;

Ye han wel herd the fyn of his entente.

Whan he was come, he gan anoon to pleye

As he was wont, and of him-self to Iape; 555

And fynally, he swor and gan hir seye,

By this and that, she sholde him not escape,

Ne lengere doon him after hir to gape;

But certeynly she moste, by hir leve,

Come soupen in his hous with him at eve. 560

At whiche she lough, and gan hir faste excuse,

And seyde, `It rayneth; lo, how sholde I goon?'

`Lat be,' quod he, `ne stond not thus to muse;

This moot be doon, ye shal be ther anoon.'

So at the laste her-of they felle at oon, 565

Or elles, softe he swor hir in hir ere,

He nolde never come ther she were.

Sone after this, to him she gan to rowne,

And asked him if Troilus were there?

He swor hir, `Nay, for he was out of towne,' 570

And seyde, `Nece, I pose that he were,

Yow thurfte never have the more fere.

For rather than men mighte him ther aspye,

Me were lever a thousand-fold to dye.'

Nought list myn auctor fully to declare 575

What that she thoughte whan he seyde so,

That Troilus was out of town y-fare,

As if he seyde ther-of sooth or no;

But that, with-outen awayt, with him to go,

She graunted him, sith he hir that bisoughte 580

And, as his nece, obeyed as hir oughte.

But nathelees, yet gan she him biseche,

Al-though with him to goon it was no fere,

For to be war of goosish peples speche,

That dremen thinges whiche that never were, 585

And wel avyse him whom he broughte there;

And seyde him, `Eem, sin I mot on yow triste,

Loke al be wel, and do now as yow liste.'

He swor hire, `Yis, by stokkes and by stones,

And by the goddes that in hevene dwelle, 590

Or elles were him levere, soule and bones,

With Pluto king as depe been in helle

As Tantalus!' What sholde I more telle?

Whan al was wel, he roos and took his leve,

And she to souper com, whan it was eve, 595

With a certayn of hir owene men,

And with hir faire nece Antigone,

And othere of hir wommen nyne or ten;

But who was glad now, who, as trowe ye,

But Troilus, that stood and mighte it see 600

Thurgh-out a litel windowe in a stewe,

Ther he bishet, sin midnight, was in mewe,

Unwist of every wight but of Pandare?

But to the poynt; now whan that she was y-come

With alle Ioye, and alle frendes fare, 605

Hir em anoon in armes hath hir nome,

And after to the souper, alle and some,

Whan tyme was, ful softe they hem sette;

God wot, ther was no deyntee for to fette.

And after souper gonnen they to ryse, 610

At ese wel, with hertes fresshe and glade,

And wel was him that coude best devyse

To lyken hir, or that hir laughen made.

He song; she pleyde; he tolde tale of Wade.

But at the laste, as every thing hath ende, 615

She took hir leve, and nedes wolde wende.

But O, Fortune, executrice of wierdes,

O influences of thise hevenes hye!

Soth is, that, under god, ye ben our hierdes,

Though to us bestes been the causes wrye. 620

This mene I now, for she gan hoomward hye,

But execut was al bisyde hir leve,

At the goddes wil, for which she moste bleve.

The bente mone with hir hornes pale,

Saturne, and Iove, in Cancro ioyned were, 625

That swich a rayn from hevene gan avale

That every maner womman that was there

Hadde of that smoky reyn a verray fere;

At which Pandare tho lough, and seyde thenne,

`Now were it tyme a lady to go henne! 630

`But goode nece, if I mighte ever plese

Yow any-thing, than prey I yow,' quod he,

`To doon myn herte as now so greet an ese

As for to dwelle here al this night with me,

For-why this is your owene hous, pardee. 635

For, by my trouthe, I sey it nought a-game,

To wende as now, it were to me a shame.'

Criseyde, which that coude as muche good

As half a world, tok hede of his preyere;

And sin it ron, and al was on a flood, 640

She thoughte, as good chep may I dwellen here,

And graunte it gladly with a freendes chere,

And have a thank, as grucche and thanne abyde;

For hoom to goon, it may nought wel bityde.'

`I wol,' quod she, `myn uncle leef and dere, 645

Sin that yow list, it skile is to be so;

I am right glad with yow to dwellen here;

I seyde but a-game, I wolde go.'

`Y-wis, graunt mercy, nece!' quod he tho;

`Were it a game or no, soth for to telle, 650

Now am I glad, sin that yow list to dwelle.'

Thus al is wel; but tho bigan aright

The newe Ioye, and al the feste agayn;

But Pandarus, if goodly hadde he might,

He wolde han hyed hir to bedde fayn, 655

And seyde, `Lord, this is an huge rayn!

This were a weder for to slepen inne;

And that I rede us sonE to biginne.

`And nece, woot ye wher I wol yow leye,

For that we shul not liggen fer asonder, 660

And for ye neither shullen, dar I seye,

Heren noise of reynes nor of thondre?

By god, right in my lyte closet yonder.

And I wol in that outer hous allone

Be wardeyn of your wommen everichone. 665

`And in this middel chaumbre that ye see

Shal youre wommen slepen wel and softe;

And ther I seyde shal your-selve be;

And if ye liggen wel to-night, com ofte,

And careth not what weder is on-lofte. 670

The wyn anon, and whan so that yow leste,

So go we slepe, I trowe it be the beste.'

Ther nis no more, but here-after sone,

The voyde dronke, and travers drawe anon,

Gan every wight, that hadde nought to done 675

More in the place, out of the chaumber gon.

And ever-mo so sternelich it ron,

And blew ther-with so wonderliche loude,

That wel neigh no man heren other coude.

Tho Pandarus, hir eem, right as him oughte, 680

With women swiche as were hir most aboute,

Ful glad un-to hir beddes syde hir broughte,

And toke his leve, and gan ful lowe loute,

And seyde, `Here at this closet-dore with-oute,

Right over-thwart, your wommen liggen alle, 685

That, whom yow list of hem, ye may here calle.'

So whan that she was in the closet leyd,

And alle hir wommen forth by ordenaunce

A-bedde weren, ther as I have seyd,

There was no more to skippen nor to traunce, 690

But boden go to bedde, with mischaunce,

If any wight was steringe any-where,

And late hem slepe that a-bedde were.

But Pandarus, that wel coude eche a del

The olde daunce, and every poynt ther-inne, 695

Whan that he sey that alle thing was wel,

He thoughte he wolde up-on his werk biginne,

And gan the stewe-dore al softe un-pinne;

And stille as stoon, with-outen lenger lette,

By Troilus a-doun right he him sette. 700

And, shortly to the poynt right for to gon,

Of al this werk he tolde him word and ende,

And seyde, `Make thee redy right anon,

For thou shalt in-to hevene blisse wende.'

`Now blisful Venus, thou me grace sende,' 705

Quod Troilus, `for never yet no nede

Hadde I er now, ne halvendel the drede.'

Quod Pandarus, `Ne drede thee never a del,

For it shal been right as thou wilt desyre;

So thryve I, this night shal I make it wel, 710

Or casten al the gruwel in the fyre.'

`Yit blisful Venus, this night thou me enspyre,'

Quod Troilus, `as wis as I thee serve,

And ever bet and bet shal, til I sterve.

`And if I hadde, O Venus ful of murthe, 715

Aspectes badde of Mars or of Saturne,

Or thou combust or let were in my birthe,

Thy fader prey al thilke harm disturne

Of grace, and that I glad ayein may turne,

For love of him thou lovedest in the shawe, 720

I mene Adoon, that with the boor was slawe.

`O Iove eek, for the love of faire Europe,

The whiche in forme of bole awey thou fette;

Now help, O Mars, thou with thy blody cope,

For love of Cipris, thou me nought ne lette; 725

O Phebus, thenk whan Dane hir-selven shette

Under the bark, and laurer wex for drede,

Yet for hir love, O help now at this nede!

`Mercurie, for the love of Hierse eke,

For which Pallas was with Aglauros wrooth, 730

Now help, and eek Diane, I thee biseke

That this viage be not to thee looth.

O fatal sustren, which, er any clooth

Me shapen was, my destene me sponne,

So helpeth to this werk that is bi-gonne!' 735

Quod Pandarus, `Thou wrecched mouses herte,

Art thou agast so that she wol thee byte?

Why, don this furred cloke up-on thy sherte,

And folowe me, for I wol have the wyte;

But byd, and lat me go bifore a lyte.' 740

And with that word he gan un-do a trappe,

And Troilus he broughte in by the lappe.

The sterne wind so loude gan to route

That no wight other noyse mighte here;

And they that layen at the dore with-oute, 745

Ful sykerly they slepten alle y-fere;

And Pandarus, with a ful sobre chere,

Goth to the dore anon with-outen lette,

Ther-as they laye, and softely it shette.

And as he com ayeinward prively, 750

His nece awook, and asked, `Who goth there?'

`My dere nece,' quod he, `it am I;

Ne wondreth not, ne have of it no fere;'

And ner he com, and seyde hir in hir ere,

`No word, for love of god I yow biseche; 755

Lat no wight ryse and heren of oure speche.'

`What! Which wey be ye comen, benedicite?'

Quod she; `And how thus unwist of hem alle?'

`Here at this secre trappe-dore,' quod he.

Quod tho Criseyde, `Lat me som wight calle.' 760

`Ey! God forbede that it sholde falle,'

Quod Pandarus, `that ye swich foly wroughte!

They mighte deme thing they never er thoughte!

`It is nought good a sleping hound to wake,

Ne yeve a wight a cause to devyne; 765

Your wommen slepen alle, I under-take,

So that, for hem, the hous men mighte myne;

And slepen wolen til the sonne shyne.

And whan my tale al brought is to an ende,

Unwist, right as I com, so wol I wende. 770

`Now, nece myn, ye shul wel understonde,'

Quod he, `so as ye wommen demen alle,

That for to holde in love a man in honde,

And him hir "leef" and "dere herte" calle,

And maken him an howve above a calle, 775

I mene, as love an other in this whyle,

She doth hir-self a shame, and him a gyle.

`Now wherby that I telle yow al this?

Ye woot your-self, as wel as any wight,

How that your love al fully graunted is 780

To Troilus, the worthieste knight,

Oon of this world, and ther-to trouthe plyght,

That, but it were on him along, ye nolde

Him never falsen, whyle ye liven sholde.

`Now stant it thus, that sith I fro yow wente, 785

This Troilus, right platly for to seyn,

Is thurgh a goter, by a prive wente,

In-to my chaumbre come in al this reyn,

Unwist of every maner wight, certeyn,

Save of my-self, as wisly have I Ioye, 790

And by that feith I shal Pryam of Troye!

`And he is come in swich peyne and distresse

That, but he be al fully wood by this,

He sodeynly mot falle in-to wodnesse,

But-if god helpe; and cause why this is, 795

He seyth him told is, of a freend of his,

How that ye sholde love oon that hatte Horaste,

For sorwe of which this night shalt been his laste.'

Criseyde, which that al this wonder herde,

Gan sodeynly aboute hir herte colde, 800

And with a syk she sorwfully answerde,

`Allas! I wende, who-so tales tolde,

My dere herte wolde me not holde

So lightly fals! Allas! Conceytes wronge,

What harm they doon, for now live I to longe! 805

`Horaste! Allas! And falsen Troilus?

I knowe him not, god helpe me so,' quod she;

`Allas! What wikked spirit tolde him thus?

Now certes, eem, to-morwe, and I him see,

I shal ther-of as ful excusen me 810

As ever dide womman, if him lyke';

And with that word she gan ful sore syke.

`O god!' quod she, `So worldly selinesse,

Which clerkes callen fals felicitee,

Y-medled is with many a bitternesse! 815

Ful anguisshous than is, god woot,' quod she,

`Condicioun of veyn prosperitee;

For either Ioyes comen nought y-fere,

Or elles no wight hath hem alwey here.

`O brotel wele of mannes Ioye unstable! 820

With what wight so thou be, or how thou pleye,

Either he woot that thou, Ioye, art muable,

Or woot it not, it moot ben oon of tweye;

Now if he woot it not, how may he seye

That he hath verray Ioye and selinesse, 825

That is of ignoraunce ay in derknesse?

`Now if he woot that Ioye is transitorie,

As every Ioye of worldly thing mot flee,

Than every tyme he that hath in memorie,

The drede of lesing maketh him that he 830

May in no perfit selinesse be.

And if to lese his Ioye he set a myte,

Than semeth it that Ioye is worth ful lyte.

`Wherfore I wol deffyne in this matere,

That trewely, for ought I can espye, 835

Ther is no verray wele in this world here.

But O, thou wikked serpent, Ialousye,

Thou misbeleved and envious folye,

Why hastow Troilus me mad untriste,

That never yet agilte him, that I wiste?' 840

Quod Pandarus, `Thus fallen is this cas.'

`Why, uncle myn,' quod she, `who tolde him this?

Why doth my dere herte thus, allas?'

`Ye woot, ye nece myn,' quod he, `what is;

I hope al shal be wel that is amis, 845

For ye may quenche al this, if that yow leste,

And doth right so, for I holde it the beste.'

`So shal I do to-morwe, y-wis,' quod she,

`And god to-forn, so that it shal suffyse.'

`To-morwe? Allas, that were a fair!' quod he, 850

`Nay, nay, it may not stonden in this wyse;

For, nece myn, thus wryten clerkes wyse,

That peril is with drecching in y-drawe;

Nay, swich abodes been nought worth an hawe.

`Nece, al thing hath tyme, I dar avowe; 855

For whan a chaumber a-fyr is, or an halle,

Wel more nede is, it sodeynly rescowe

Than to dispute, and axe amonges alle

How is this candele in the straw y-falle?

A! Benedicite! For al among that fare 860

The harm is doon, and fare-wel feldefare!

`And, nece myn, ne take it not a-greef,

If that ye suffre him al night in this wo,

God help me so, ye hadde him never leef,

That dar I seyn, now there is but we two; 865

But wel I woot, that ye wol not do so;

Ye been to wys to do so gret folye,

To putte his lyf al night in Iupertye.

`Hadde I him never leef? By god, I wene

Ye hadde never thing so leef,' quod she. 870

`Now by my thrift,' quod he, `that shal be sene;

For, sin ye make this ensample of me,

If I al night wolde him in sorwe see

For al the tresour in the toun of Troye,

I bidde god, I never mote have Ioye! 875

`Now loke thanne, if ye, that been his love,

Shul putte al night his lyf in Iupartye

For thing of nought! Now, by that god above,

Nought only this delay comth of folye,

But of malyce, if that I shal nought lye. 880

What, platly, and ye suffre him in distresse,

Ye neither bountee doon ne gentilesse!'

Quod tho Criseyde, `Wole ye doon o thing,

And ye therwith shal stinte al his disese?

Have here, and bereth him this blewe ringe, 885

For ther is no-thing mighte him bettre plese,

Save I my-self, ne more his herte apese;

And sey my dere herte, that his sorwe

Is causeles, that shal be seen to-morwe.'

`A ring?' quod he, `Ye, hasel-wodes shaken! 890

Ye nece myn, that ring moste han a stoon

That mighte dede men alyve maken;

And swich a ring trowe I that ye have noon.

Discrecioun out of your heed is goon;

That fele I now,' quod he, `and that is routhe; 895

O tyme y-lost, wel maystow cursen slouthe!

`Wot ye not wel that noble and heigh corage

Ne sorweth not, ne stinteth eek for lyte?

But if a fool were in a Ialous rage,

I nolde setten at his sorwe a myte, 900

But feffe him with a fewe wordes whyte

Another day, whan that I mighte him finde;

But this thing stant al in another kinde.

`This is so gentil and so tendre of herte,

That with his deeth he wol his sorwes wreke; 905

For trusteth wel, how sore that him smerte,

He wol to yow no Ialouse wordes speke.

And for-thy, nece, er that his herte breke,

So spek your-self to him of this matere;

For with o word ye may his herte stere. 910

`Now have I told what peril he is inne,

And his coming unwist is to every wight;

Ne, pardee, harm may ther be noon, ne sinne;

I wol my-self be with yow al this night.

Ye knowe eek how it is your owne knight, 915

And that, by right, ye moste upon him triste,

And I al prest to fecche him whan yow liste.'

This accident so pitous was to here,

And eek so lyk a sooth, at pryme face,

And Troilus hir knight to hir so dere, 920

His prive coming, and the siker place,

That, though that she dide him as thanne a grace,

Considered alle thinges as they stode,

No wonder is, sin she dide al for gode.

Cryseyde answerde, `As wisly god at reste 925

My sowle bringe, as me is for him wo!

And eem, y-wis, fayn wolde I doon the beste,

If that I hadde grace to do so.

But whether that ye dwelle or for him go,

I am, til god me bettre minde sende, 930

At dulcarnon, right at my wittes ende.'

Quod Pandarus, `Ye, nece, wol ye here?

Dulcarnon called is "fleminge of wrecches";

It semeth hard, for wrecches wol not lere

For verray slouthe or othere wilful tecches; 935

This seyd by hem that be not worth two fecches.

But ye ben wys, and that we han on honde

Nis neither hard, ne skilful to withstonde.'

`Thanne, eem,' quod she, `doth her-of as yow list;

But er he come, I wil up first aryse; 940

And, for the love of god, sin al my trist

Is on yow two, and ye ben bothe wyse,

So wircheth now in so discreet a wyse,

That I honour may have, and he plesaunce;

For I am here al in your governaunce.' 945

`That is wel seyd,' quod he, `my nece dere'

Ther good thrift on that wyse gentil herte!

But liggeth stille, and taketh him right here,

It nedeth not no ferther for him sterte;

And ech of yow ese otheres sorwes smerte, 950

For love of god; and, Venus, I the herie;

For sone hope I we shulle ben alle merie.'

This Troilus ful sone on knees him sette

Ful sobrely, right be hir beddes heed,

And in his beste wyse his lady grette; 955

But lord, so she wex sodeynliche reed!

Ne, though men sholden smyten of hir heed,

She coude nought a word a-right out-bringe

So sodeynly, for his sodeyn cominge.

But Pandarus, that so wel coude fele 960

In every thing, to pleye anoon bigan,

And seyde, `Nece, see how this lord can knele!

Now, for your trouthe, seeth this gentil man!'

And with that word he for a quisshen ran,

And seyde, `Kneleth now, whyl that yow leste, 965

Ther god your hertes bringe sone at reste!'

Can I not seyn, for she bad him not ryse,

If sorwe it putte out of hir remembraunce,

Or elles that she toke it in the wyse

Of duetee, as for his observaunce; 970

But wel finde I she dide him this plesaunce,

That she him kiste, al-though she syked sore;

And bad him sitte a-doun with-outen more.

Quod Pandarus, `Now wol ye wel biginne;

Now doth him sitte, gode nece dere, 975

Upon your beddes syde al there with-inne,

That ech of yow the bet may other here.'

And with that word he drow him to the fere,

And took a light, and fond his contenaunce,

As for to loke up-on an old romaunce. 980

Criseyde, that was Troilus lady right,

And cleer stood on a ground of sikernesse,

Al thoughte she, hir servaunt and hir knight

Ne sholde of right non untrouthe in hir gesse,

Yet nathelees, considered his distresse, 985

And that love is in cause of swich folye,

Thus to him spak she of his Ialousye:

`Lo, herte myn, as wolde the excellence

Of love, ayeins the which that no man may,

Ne oughte eek goodly maken resistence 990

And eek bycause I felte wel and say

Youre grete trouthe, and servyse every day;

And that your herte al myn was, sooth to seyne,

This droof me for to rewe up-on your peyne.

`And your goodnesse have I founde alwey yit, 995

Of whiche, my dere herte and al my knight,

I thonke it yow, as fer as I have wit,

Al can I nought as muche as it were right;

And I, emforth my conninge and my might,

Have and ay shal, how sore that me smerte, 1000

Ben to yow trewe and hool, with a myn herte;

`And dredelees, that shal be founde at preve. —

But, herte myn, what al this is to seyne

Shal wel be told, so that ye noght yow greve,

Though I to yow right on your-self compleyne. 1005

For ther-with mene I fynally the peyne,

That halt your herte and myn in hevinesse,

Fully to sleen, and every wrong redresse.

`My goode, myn, not I for-why ne how

That Ialousye, allas! That wikked wivere, 1010

Thus causelees is cropen in-to yow;

The harm of which I wolde fayn delivere!

Allas! That he, al hool, or of him slivere,

Shuld have his refut in so digne a place,

Ther Iove him sone out of your herte arace! 1015

`But O, thou Iove, O auctor of nature,

Is this an honour to thy deitee,

That folk ungiltif suffren here iniure,

And who that giltif is, al quit goth he?

O were it leful for to pleyne on thee, 1020

That undeserved suffrest Ialousye,

Of that I wolde up-on thee pleyne and crye!

`Eek al my wo is this, that folk now usen

To seyn right thus, "Ye, Ialousye is love!"

And wolde a busshel venim al excusen, 1025

For that o greyn of love is on it shove!

But that wot heighe god that sit above,

If it be lyker love, or hate, or grame;

And after that, it oughte bere his name.

`But certeyn is, som maner Ialousye 1030

Is excusable more than som, y-wis.

As whan cause is, and som swich fantasye

With pietee so wel repressed is,

That it unnethe dooth or seyth amis,

But goodly drinketh up al his distresse; 1035

And that excuse I, for the gentilesse.

`And som so ful of furie is and despyt

That it sourmounteth his repressioun;

But herte myn, ye be not in that plyt,

That thanke I god, for whiche your passioun 1040

I wol not calle it but illusioun,

Of habundaunce of love and bisy cure,

That dooth your herte this disese endure.

`Of which I am right sory but not wrooth;

But, for my devoir and your hertes reste, 1045

Wher-so yow list, by ordal or by ooth,

By sort, or in what wyse so yow leste,

For love of god, lat preve it for the beste!

And if that I be giltif, do me deye,

Allas! What mighte I more doon or seye?' 1050

With that a fewe brighte teres newe

Owt of hir eyen fille, and thus she seyde,

`Now god, thou wost, in thought ne dede untrewe

To Troilus was never yet Criseyde.'

With that hir heed doun in the bed she leyde, 1055

And with the shete it wreigh, and syghed sore,

And held hir pees; not o word spak she more.

But now help god to quenchen al this sorwe,

So hope I that he shal, for he best may;

For I have seyn, of a ful misty morwe 1060

Folwen ful ofte a mery someres day;

And after winter folweth grene May.

Men seen alday, and reden eek in stories,

That after sharpe shoures been victories.

This Troilus, whan he hir wordes herde, 1065

Have ye no care, him liste not to slepe;

For it thoughte him no strokes of a yerde

To here or seen Criseyde, his lady wepe;

But wel he felte aboute his herte crepe,

For every teer which that Criseyde asterte, 1070

The crampe of deeth, to streyne him by the herte.

And in his minde he gan the tyme acurse

That he cam there, and that that he was born;

For now is wikke y-turned in-to worse,

And al that labour he hath doon biforn, 1075

He wende it lost, he thoughte he nas but lorn.

`O Pandarus,' thoughte he, `allas! Thy wyle

Serveth of nought, so weylaway the whyle!'

And therwithal he heng a-doun the heed,

And fil on knees, and sorwfully he sighte; 1080

What mighte he seyn? He felte he nas but deed,

For wrooth was she that shulde his sorwes lighte.

But nathelees, whan that he speken mighte,

Than seyde he thus, `God woot, that of this game,

Whan al is wist, than am I not to blame!' 1085

Ther-with the sorwe so his herte shette,

That from his eyen fil there not a tere,

And every spirit his vigour in-knette,

So they astoned or oppressed were.

The feling of his sorwe, or of his fere, 1090

Or of ought elles, fled was out of towne;

And doun he fel al sodeynly a-swowne.

This was no litel sorwe for to see;

But al was hust, and Pandare up as faste,

`O nece, pees, or we be lost,' quod he, 1095

`Beth nought agast;' But certeyn, at the laste,

For this or that, he in-to bedde him caste,

And seyde, `O theef, is this a mannes herte?'

And of he rente al to his bare sherte;

And seyde, `Nece, but ye helpe us now, 1100

Allas, your owne Troilus is lorn!'

`Y-wis, so wolde I, and I wiste how,

Ful fayn,' quod she; `Allas! That I was born!'

`Ye, nece, wole ye pullen out the thorn

That stiketh in his herte?' quod Pandare; 1105

`Sey "Al foryeve," and stint is al this fare!'

`Ye, that to me,' quod she, `ful lever were

Than al the good the sonne aboute gooth';

And therwith-al she swoor him in his ere,

`Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth, 1110

Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;

Now speek to me, for it am I, Cryseyde!'

But al for nought; yet mighte he not a-breyde.

Therwith his pous and pawmes of his hondes

They gan to frote, and wete his temples tweyne, 1115

And, to deliveren him from bittre bondes,

She ofte him kiste; and, shortly for to seyne,

Him to revoken she dide al hir peyne.

And at the laste, he gan his breeth to drawe,

And of his swough sone after that adawe, 1120

And gan bet minde and reson to him take,

But wonder sore he was abayst, y-wis.

And with a syk, whan he gan bet a-wake,

He seyde, `O mercy, god, what thing is this?'

`Why do ye with your-selven thus amis?' 1125

Quod tho Criseyde, `Is this a mannes game?

What, Troilus! Wol ye do thus, for shame?'

And therwith-al hir arm over him she leyde,

And al foryaf, and ofte tyme him keste.

He thonked hir, and to hir spak, and seyde 1130

As fil to purpos for his herte reste.

And she to that answerde him as hir leste;

And with hir goodly wordes him disporte

She gan, and ofte his sorwes to comforte.

Quod Pandarus, `For ought I can espyen, 1135

This light, nor I ne serven here of nought;

Light is not good for syke folkes yen.

But for the love of god, sin ye be brought

In thus good plyt, lat now non hevy thought

Ben hanginge in the hertes of yow tweye:' 1140

And bar the candele to the chimeneye.

Sone after this, though it no nede were,

Whan she swich othes as hir list devyse

Hadde of him take, hir thoughte tho no fere,

Ne cause eek non, to bidde him thennes ryse. 1145

Yet lesse thing than othes may suffyse

In many a cas; for every wight, I gesse,

That loveth wel meneth but gentilesse.

But in effect she wolde wite anoon

Of what man, and eek where, and also why 1150

He Ielous was, sin ther was cause noon;

And eek the signe, that he took it by,

She bad him that to telle hir bisily,

Or elles, certeyn, she bar him on honde,

That this was doon of malis, hir to fonde. 1155

With-outen more, shortly for to seyne,

He moste obeye un-to his lady heste;

And for the lasse harm, he moste feyne.

He seyde hir, whan she was at swiche a feste,

She mighte on him han loked at the leste; 1160

Not I not what, al dere y-nough a risshe,

As he that nedes moste a cause fisshe.

And she answerde, `Swete, al were it so,

What harm was that, sin I non yvel mene?

For, by that god that boughte us bothe two, 1165

In alle thinge is myn entente clene.

Swich arguments ne been not worth a bene;

Wol ye the childish Ialous contrefete?

Now were it worthy that ye were y-bete.'

Tho Troilus gan sorwfully to syke, 1170

Lest she be wrooth, him thoughte his herte deyde;

And seyde, `Allas! Up-on my sorwes syke

Have mercy, swete herte myn, Cryseyde!

And if that, in tho wordes that I seyde,

Be any wrong, I wol no more trespace; 1175

Do what yow list, I am al in your grace.'

And she answerde, `Of gilt misericorde!

That is to seyn, that I foryeve al this;

And ever-more on this night yow recorde,

And beth wel war ye do no more amis.' 1180

`Nay, dere herte myn,' quod he, `y-wis.'

`And now,' quod she, `that I have do yow smerte,

Foryeve it me, myn owene swete herte.'

This Troilus, with blisse of that supprysed,

Put al in goddes hond, as he that mente 1185

No-thing but wel; and, sodeynly avysed,

He hir in armes faste to him hente.

And Pandarus, with a ful good entente,

Leyde him to slepe, and seyde, `If ye ben wyse,

Swowneth not now, lest more folk aryse.' 1190

What mighte or may the sely larke seye,

Whan that the sperhauk hath it in his foot?

I can no more, but of thise ilke tweye,

To whom this tale sucre be or soot,

Though that I tarie a yeer, som-tyme I moot, 1195

After myn auctor, tellen hir gladnesse,

As wel as I have told hir hevinesse.

Criseyde, which that felte hir thus y-take,

As writen clerkes in hir bokes olde,

Right as an aspes leef she gan to quake, 1200

Whan she him felte hir in his armes folde.

But Troilus, al hool of cares colde,

Gan thanken tho the blisful goddes sevene;

Thus sondry peynes bringen folk in hevene.

This Troilus in armes gan hir streyne, 1205

And seyde, `O swete, as ever mote I goon,

Now be ye caught, now is ther but we tweyne;

Now yeldeth yow, for other boot is noon.'

To that Criseyde answerde thus anoon,

`Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte dere, 1210

Ben yolde, y-wis, I were now not here!'

O! Sooth is seyd, that heled for to be

автордың кітабын онлайн тегін оқу Troilus and Criseyde
Geoffrey Chaucer

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

Contents

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus

BOOK II. Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.

BOOK III. Incipit prohemium tercii libri.

Ұқсас кітаптар

автордың кітабын онлайн тегін оқу Troilus and CriseydeGeoffrey Chaucer

TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

by Geoffrey Chaucer

Contents

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus

BOOK II. Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.

BOOK III. Incipit prohemium tercii libri.

Ұқсас кітаптар

автордың кітабын онлайн тегін оқу Troilus and Criseyde
Geoffrey Chaucer