Troilus and Criseyde

As Crassus dide for his affectis wronge,

  To techen hem that they ben in the vyce,

  And loveres nought, al-though they holde hem nyce!

  Thise ilke two, of whom that I yow seye,

  1395 Whan that hir hertes wel assured were,

  Tho gonne they to speken and to pleye,

  And eek rehercen how, and whanne, and where,

  They knewe hem first, and every wo and fere

  That passed was; but al swich hevinesse,

  1400 I thanke it god, was tourned to gladnesse.

  And ever-mo, whan that hem fel to speke

  Of any thing of swich a tyme agoon,

  With kissing al that tale sholde breke,

  And fallen in a newe Ioye anoon,

  1405 And diden al hir might, sin they were oon,

  For to recoveren blisse and been at ese,

  And passed wo with Ioye countrepeyse.

  Reson wil not that I speke of sleep,

  For it accordeth nought to my matere;

  1410 God woot, they toke of that ful litel keep,

  But lest this night, that was to hem so dere,

  Ne sholde in veyn escape in no manere,

  It was biset in Ioye and bisinesse

  Of al that souneth in-to gentilnesse.

  1415 But whan the cok, comune astrologer,

  Gan on his brest to bete, and after crowe,

  And Lucifer, the dayes messager,

  Gan for to ryse, and out hir bemes throwe;

  And estward roos, to him that coude it knowe,

  1420 Fortuna maior, than anoon Criseyde,

  With herte sore, to Troilus thus seyde: --

  `Myn hertes lyf, my trist and my plesaunce,

  That I was born, allas! What me is wo,

  That day of us mot make desseveraunce!

  1425 For tyme it is to ryse, and hennes go,

  Or elles I am lost for evermo!

  O night, allas! Why niltow over us hove,

  As longe as whanne Almena lay by Iove?

  `O blake night, as folk in bokes rede,

  1430 That shapen art by god this world to hyde

  At certeyn tymes with thy derke wede,

  That under that men mighte in reste abyde,

  Wel oughte bestes pleyne, and folk thee chyde,

  That there-as day with labour wolde us breste,

  1435 That thou thus fleest, and deynest us nought reste!

  `Thou dost, allas! To shortly thyn offyce,

  Thou rakel night, ther god, makere of kinde,

  Thee, for thyn hast and thyn unkinde vyce,

  So faste ay to our hemi-spere binde.

  1440 That never-more under the ground thou winde!

  For now, for thou so hyest out of Troye,

  Have I forgon thus hastily my Ioye!'

  This Troilus, that with tho wordes felte,

  As thoughte him tho, for pietous distresse,

  1445 The blody teres from his herte melte,

  As he that never yet swich hevinesse

  Assayed hadde, out of so greet gladnesse,

  Gan therwith-al Criseyde his lady dere

  In armes streyne, and seyde in this manere: --

  1450 `O cruel day, accusour of the Ioye

  That night and love han stole and faste y-wryen,

  A-cursed be thy coming in-to Troye,

  For every bore hath oon of thy bright yen!

  Envyous day, what list thee so to spyen?

  1455 What hastow lost, why sekestow this place,

  Ther god thy lyght so quenche, for his grace?

  `Allas! What han thise loveres thee agilt,

  Dispitous day? Thyn be the pyne of helle!

  For many a lovere hastow shent, and wilt;

  1460 Thy pouring in wol no-wher lete hem dwelle.

  What proferestow thy light here for to selle?

  Go selle it hem that smale seles graven,

  We wol thee nought, us nedeth no day haven.'

  And eek the sonne Tytan gan he chyde,

  1465 And seyde, `O fool, wel may men thee dispyse,

  That hast the Dawing al night by thy syde,

  And suffrest hir so sone up fro thee ryse,

  For to disesen loveres in this wyse.

  What! Holde your bed ther, thou, and eek thy Morwe!

  1470 I bidde god, so yeve yow bothe sorwe!'

  Therwith ful sore he sighte, and thus he seyde,

  `My lady right, and of my wele or wo

  The welle and rote, O goodly myn, Criseyde,

  And shal I ryse, allas! And shal I go?

  1475 Now fele I that myn herte moot a-two!

  For how sholde I my lyf an houre save,

  Sin that with yow is al the lyf I have?

  `What shal I doon, for certes, I not how,

  Ne whanne, allas! I shal the tyme see,

  1480 That in this plyt I may be eft with yow;

  And of my lyf, god woot, how that shal be,

  Sin that desyr right now so byteth me,

  That I am deed anoon, but I retourne.

  How sholde I longe, allas! Fro yow soiourne?

  1485 `But nathelees, myn owene lady bright,

  Yit were it so that I wiste outrely,

  That I, your humble servaunt and your knight,

  Were in your herte set so fermely

  As ye in myn, the which thing, trewely,

  1490 Me lever were than thise worldes tweyne,

  Yet sholde I bet enduren al my peyne.'

  To that Cryseyde answerde right anoon,

  And with a syk she seyde, `O herte dere,

  The game, y-wis, so ferforth now is goon,

  1495 That first shal Phebus falle fro his spere,

  And every egle been the dowves fere,

  And every roche out of his place sterte,

  Er Troilus out of Criseydes herte!

  `Ye he so depe in-with myn herte grave,

  1500 That, though I wolde it turne out of my thought,

  As wisly verray god my soule save,

  To dyen in the peyne, I coude nought!

  And, for the love of god that us bath wrought,

  Lat in your brayn non other fantasye

  1505 So crepe, that it cause me to dye!

  `And that ye me wolde han as faste in minde

  As I have yow, that wolde I yow bi-seche;

  And, if I wiste soothly that to finde,

  God mighte not a poynt my Ioyes eche!

  1510 But, herte myn, with-oute more speche,

  Beth to me trewe, or elles were it routhe;

  For I am thyn, by god and by my trouthe!

  `Beth glad for-thy, and live in sikernesse;

  Thus seyde I never er this, ne shal to mo;

  1515 And if to yow it were a gret gladnesse

  To turne ayein, soone after that ye go,

  As fayn wolde I as ye, it were so,

  As wisly god myn herte bringe at reste!'

  And him in armes took, and ofte keste.

  1520 Agayns his wil, sin it mot nedes be,

  This Troilus up roos, and faste him cledde,

  And in his armes took his lady free

  An hundred tyme, and on his wey him spedde,

  And with swich wordes as his herte bledde,

  1525 He seyde, `Farewel, mr
dere herte swete,

  Ther god us graunte sounde and sone to mete!'

  To which no word for sorwe she answerde,

  So sore gan his parting hir destreyne;

  And Troilus un-to his palays ferde,

  1530 As woo bigon as she was, sooth to seyne;

  So hard him wrong of sharp desyr the peyne

  For to ben eft there he was in plesaunce,

  That it may never out of his remembraunce.

  Retorned to his real palais, sone

  1535 He softe in-to his bed gan for to slinke,

  To slepe longe, as he was wont to done,

  But al for nought; he may wel ligge and winke,

  But sleep ne may ther in his herte sinke;

  Thenkinge how she, for whom desyr him brende,

  1540 A thousand-fold was worth more than he wende.

  And in his thought gan up and doun to winde

  Hir wordes alle, and every countenaunce,

  And fermely impressen in his minde

  The leste poynt that to him was plesaunce;

  1545 And verrayliche, of thilke remembraunce,

  Desyr al newe him brende, and lust to brede

  Gan more than erst, and yet took he non hede.

  Criseyde also, right in the same wyse,

  Of Troilus gan in hir herte shette

  1550 His worthinesse, his lust, his dedes wyse,

  His gentilesse, and how she with him mette,

  Thonkinge love he so wel hir bisette;

  Desyring eft to have hir herte dere

  In swich a plyt, she dorste make him chere.

  1555 Pandare, a-morwe which that comen was

  Un-to his nece, and gan hir fayre grete,

  Seyde, `Al this night so reyned it, allas!

  That al my drede is that ye, nece swete,

  Han litel layser had to slepe and mete;

  1560 Al night,' quod he, `hath reyn so do me wake,

  That som of us, I trowe, hir hedes ake.'

  And ner he com, and seyde, `How stont it now

  This mery morwe, nece, how can ye fare?'

  Criseyde answerde, `Never the bet for yow,

  1565 Fox that ye been, god yeve youre herte care!

  God help me so, ye caused al this fare,

  Trow I,' quod she, `for alle your wordes whyte;

  O! Who-so seeth yow knoweth yow ful lyte!'

  With that she gan hir face for to wrye

  1570 With the shete, and wex for shame al reed;

  And Pandarus gan under for to prye,

  And seyde, `Nece, if that I shal be deed,

  Have here a swerd, and smyteth of myn heed.'

  With that his arm al sodeynly he thriste

  1575 Under hir nekke, and at the laste hir kiste.

  I passe al that which chargeth nought to seye,

  What! God foryaf his deeth, and she al-so

  Foryaf, and with hir uncle gan to pleye,

  For other cause was ther noon than so.

  1580 But of this thing right to the effect to go,

  Whan tyme was, hom til hir hous she wente,

  And Pandarus hath fully his entente.

  Now torne we ayein to Troilus,

  That resteles ful longe a-bedde lay,

  1585 And prevely sente after Pandarus,

  To him to come in al the haste he may.

  He com anoon, nought ones seyde he `nay,'

  And Troilus ful sobrely he grette,

  And doun upon his beddes syde him sette.

  1590 This Troilus, with al the affeccioun

  Of frendes love that herte may devyse,

  To Pandarus on knees fil adoun,

  And er that he wolde of the place aryse,

  He gan him thonken in his beste wyse;

  1595 An hondred sythe he gan the tyme blesse,

  That he was born, to bringe him fro distresse.

  He seyde, `O frend of frendes the alderbeste

  That ever was, the sothe for to telle,

  Thou hast in hevene y-brought my soule at reste

  1600 Fro Flegitoun, the fery flood of helle;

  That, though I mighte a thousand tymes selle,

  Upon a day, my lyf in thy servyse,

  It mighte nought a mote in that suffyse.

  `The sonne, which that al the world may see,

  1605 Saw never yet, my lyf, that dar I leye,

  So inly fayr and goodly as is she,

  Whos I am al, and shal, til that I deye;

  And, that I thus am hires, dar I seye,

  That thanked be the heighe worthinesse

  1610 Of love, and eek thy kinde bisinesse.

  `Thus hastow me no litel thing y-yive,

  Fo which to thee obliged be for ay

  My lyf, and why? For thorugh thyn help I live;

  For elles deed hadde I be many a day.'

  1615 And with that word doun in his bed he lay,

  And Pandarus ful sobrely him herde

  Til al was seyd, and than he thus answerde:

  `My dere frend, if I have doon for thee

  In any cas, god wot, it is me leef;

  1620 And am as glad as man may of it be,

  God help me so; but tak now a-greef

  That I shal seyn, be war of this myscheef,

  That, there-as thou now brought art in-to blisse,

  That thou thy-self ne cause it nought to misse.

  1625 `For of fortunes sharpe adversitee

  The worst kinde of infortune is this,

  A man to have ben in prosperitee,

  And it remembren, whan it passed is.

  Thou art wys y-nough, for-thy do nought amis;

  Be not to rakel, though thou sitte warme,

  1631 For if thou be, certeyn, it wol thee harme.

  `Thou art at ese, and holde the wel ther-inne.

  For also seur as reed is every fyr,

  As greet a craft is kepe wel as winne;

  1635 Brydle alwey wel thy speche and thy desyr,

  For worldly Ioye halt not but by a wyr;

  That preveth wel, it brest alday so ofte;

  For-thy nede is to werke with it softe.'

  Quod Troilus, `I hope, and god to-forn,

  1640 My dere frend, that I shal so me bere,

  That in my gilt ther shal no thing be lorn,

  Ne I nil not rakle as for to greven here;

  It nedeth not this matere ofte tere;

  For wistestow myn herte wel, Pandare,

  1645 God woot, of this thou woldest litel care.'

  Tho gan he telle him of his glade night,

  And wher-of first his herte dredde, and how,

  And seyde, `Freend, as I am trewe knight,

  And by that feyth I shal to god and yow,

  1650 I hadde it never half so hote as now;

  And ay the more that desyr me byteth

  To love hir best, the more it me delyteth.

  `I noot my-self not wisly what it is;

  But now I fele a newe qualitee,

  1655 Ye, al another than I dide er this.'

  Pandare answerde, and seyde thus, that he

  That ones may in hevene blisse be,

  He feleth other weyes, dar I leye,

  Than thilke tyme he first herde of it seye.

  1660 This is o word f
or al: this Troilus

  Was never ful to speke of this matere,

  And for to preysen un-to Pandarus

  The bountee of his righte lady dere,

  And Pandarus to thanke and maken chere.

  1665 This tale ay was span-newe to biginne,

  Til that the night departed hem a-twinne.

  Sone after this, for that fortune it wolde,

  I-comen was the blisful tyme swete,

  That Troilus was warned that he sholde,

  1670 Ther he was erst, Criseyde his lady mete;

  For which he felte his herte in Ioye flete;

  And feythfully gan alle the goddes herie;

  And lat see now if that he can be merie.

  And holden was the forme and al the wyse,

  1675 Of hir cominge, and eek of his also,

  As it was erst, which nedeth nought devyse.

  But playnly to the effect right for to go,

  In Ioye and suerte Pandarus hem two

  A-bedde broughte, whan that hem bothe leste,

  1680 And thus they ben in quiete and in reste.

  Nought nedeth it to yow, sin they ben met,

  To aske at me if that they blythe were;

  For if it erst was wel, tho was it bet

  A thousand-fold, this nedeth not enquere.

  1685 A-gon was every sorwe and every fere;

  And bothe, y-wis, they hadde, and so they wende,

  As muche Ioye as herte may comprende.

  This is no litel thing of for to seye,

  This passeth every wit for to devyse;

  1690 For eche of hem gan otheres lust obeye;

  Felicitee, which that thise clerkes wyse

  Commenden so, ne may not here suffyse.

  This Ioye may not writen been with inke,

  This passeth al that herte may bithinke.

  1695 But cruel day, so wel-awey the stounde!

  Gan for to aproche, as they by signes knewe,

  For whiche hem thoughte felen dethes wounde;

  So wo was hem, that changen gan hir hewe,

  And day they goonnen to dispyse al newe,

  1700 Calling it traytour, envyous, and worse,

  And bitterly the dayes light they curse.

  Quod Troilus, `Allas! Now am I war

  That Pirous and tho swifte stedes three,

  Whiche that drawen forth the sonnes char,

  1705 Han goon som by-path in despyt of me;

  That maketh it so sone day to be;

  And, for the sonne him hasteth thus to ryse,

  Ne shal I never doon him sacrifyse!'

  But nedes day departe moste hem sone,

  1710 And whanne hir speche doon was and hir chere,

  They twinne anoon as they were wont to done,

  And setten tyme of meting eft y-fere;

  And many a night they wroughte in this manere.

  And thus Fortune a tyme ladde in Ioye

  1715 Criseyde, and eek this kinges sone of Troye.

  In suffisaunce, in blisse, and in singinges,

  This Troilus gan al his lyf to lede;

  He spendeth, Iusteth, maketh festeynges;

  He yeveth frely ofte, and chaungeth wede,

  1720 And held aboute him alwey, out of drede,

  A world of folk, as cam him wel of kinde,

  The fressheste and the beste he coude fynde;

  That swich a voys was of hym and a stevene

  Thorugh-out the world, of honour and largesse,

  1725 That it up rong un-to the yate of hevene.

  And, as in love, he was in swich gladnesse,

  That in his herte he demede, as I gesse,

  That there nis lovere in this world at ese

  So wel as he, and thus gan love him plese.

  1730 The godlihede or beautee which that kinde

  In any other lady hadde y-set

  Can not the mountaunce of a knot unbinde,

  A-boute his herte, of al Criseydes net.

  He was so narwe y-masked and y-knet,

  1735 That it undon on any manere syde,

  That nil not been, for ought that may betyde.

  And by the hond ful ofte he wolde take

  This Pandarus, and in-to gardin lede,

  And swich a feste and swich a proces make

  1740 Him of Criseyde, and of hir womanhede,

  And of hir beautee, that, with-outen drede,

  It was an hevene his wordes for to here;

  And thanne he wolde singe in this manere.

  `Love, that of erthe and see hath governaunce,

  1745 Love, that his hestes hath in hevene hye,

  Love, that with an holsom alliaunce

  Halt peples ioyned, as him list hem gye,