Troilus and Criseyde

Nought roughte I whider thou woldest me stere;

  And hir, allas! Than hastow me biraft.

  But ever-more, lo! This is thy manere,

  285 To reve a wight that most is to him dere,

  To preve in that thy gerful violence.

  Thus am I lost, ther helpeth no defence!

  `O verray lord of love, O god, allas!

  That knowest best myn herte and al my thought,

  290 What shal my sorwful lyf don in this cas

  If I for-go that I so dere have bought?

  Sin ye Cryseyde and me han fully brought

  In-to your grace, and bothe our hertes seled,

  How may ye suffre, allas! It be repeled?

  295 `What I may doon, I shal, whyl I may dure

  On lyve in torment and in cruel peyne,

  This infortune or this disaventure,

  Allone as I was born, y-wis, compleyne;

  Ne never wil I seen it shyne or reyne;

  300 But ende I wil, as Edippe, in derknesse

  My sorwful lyf, and dyen in distresse.

  `O wery goost, that errest to and fro,

  Why niltow fleen out of the wofulleste

  Body, that ever mighte on grounde go?

  305 O soule, lurkinge in this wo, unneste,

  Flee forth out of myn herte, and lat it breste,

  And folwe alwey Criseyde, thy lady dere;

  Thy righte place is now no lenger here!

  `O wofulle eyen two, sin your disport

  310 Was al to seen Criseydes eyen brighte,

  What shal ye doon but, for my discomfort,

  Stonden for nought, and wepen out your sighte?

  Sin she is queynt, that wont was yow to lighte,

  In veyn fro-this-forth have I eyen tweye

  315 Y-formed, sin your vertue is a-weye.

  `O my Criseyde, O lady sovereyne

  Of thilke woful soule that thus cryeth,

  Who shal now yeven comfort to the peyne?

  Allas, no wight; but when myn herte dyeth,

  320 My spirit, which that so un-to yow hyeth,

  Receyve in gree, for that shal ay yow serve;

  For-thy no fors is, though the body sterve.

  `O ye loveres, that heighe upon the wheel

  Ben set of Fortune, in good aventure,

  325 God leve that ye finde ay love of steel,

  And longe mot your lyf in Ioye endure!

  But whan ye comen by my sepulture,

  Remembreth that your felawe resteth there;

  For I lovede eek, though I unworthy were.

  330 `O olde, unholsom, and mislyved man,

  Calkas I mene, allas! What eyleth thee

  To been a Greek, sin thou art born Troian?

  O Calkas, which that wilt my bane be,

  In cursed tyme was thou born for me!

  335 As wolde blisful Iove, for his Ioye,

  That I thee hadde, where I wolde, in Troye!'

  A thousand sykes, hottere than the glede,

  Out of his brest ech after other wente,

  Medled with pleyntes newe, his wo to fede,

  340 For which his woful teres never stente;

  And shortly, so his peynes him to-rente,

  And wex so mat, that Ioye nor penaunce

  He feleth noon, but lyth forth in a traunce.

  Pandare, which that in the parlement

  345 Hadde herd what every lord and burgeys seyde,

  And how ful graunted was, by oon assent,

  For Antenor to yelden so Criseyde,

  Gan wel neigh wood out of his wit to breyde,

  So that, for wo, he niste what he mente;

  350 But in a rees to Troilus he wente.

  A certeyn knight, that for the tyme kepte

  The chaumbre-dore, un-dide it him anoon;

  And Pandare, that ful tendreliche wepte,

  In-to the derke chaumbre, as stille as stoon,

  355 Toward the bed gan softely to goon,

  So confus, that he niste what to seye;

  For verray wo his wit was neigh aweye.

  And with his chere and loking al to-torn,

  For sorwe of this, and with his armes folden,

  360 He stood this woful Troilus biforn,

  And on his pitous face he gan biholden;

  But lord, so often gan his herte colden,

  Seing his freend in wo, whos hevinesse

  His herte slow, as thoughte him, for distresse.

  365 This woful wight, this Troilus, that felte

  His freend Pandare y-comen him to see,

  Gan as the snow ayein the sonne melte,

  For which this sorwful Pandare, of pitee,

  Gan for to wepe as tendreliche as he;

  370 And specheles thus been thise ilke tweye,

  That neyther mighte o word for sorwe seye.

  But at the laste this woful Troilus,

  Ney deed for smert, gan bresten out to rore,

  And with a sorwful noyse he seyde thus,

  375 Among his sobbes and his sykes sore,

  `Lo! Pandare, I am deed, with-outen more.

  Hastow nought herd at parlement,' he seyde,

  `For Antenor how lost is my Criseyde?'

  This Pandarus, ful deed and pale of hewe,

  380 Ful pitously answerde and seyde, `Yis!

  As wisly were it fals as it is trewe,

  That I have herd, and wot al how it is.

  O mercy, god, who wolde have trowed this?

  Who wolde have wend that, in so litel a throwe,

  385 Fortune our Ioye wolde han over-throwe?

  `For in this world ther is no creature,

  As to my doom, that ever saw ruyne

  Straungere than this, thorugh cas or aventure.

  But who may al eschewe, or al devyne?

  390 Swich is this world; for-thy I thus defyne,

  Ne trust no wight to finden in Fortune

  Ay propretee; hir yeftes been comune.

  `But tel me this, why thou art now so mad

  To sorwen thus? Why lystow in this wyse,

  395 Sin thy desyr al holly hastow had,

  So that, by right, it oughte y-now suffyse?

  But I, that never felte in my servyse

  A frendly chere or loking of an ye,

  Lat me thus wepe and wayle, til I dye.

  400 `And over al this, as thou wel wost thy-selve,

  This town is ful of ladies al aboute;

  And, to my doom, fairer than swiche twelve

  As ever she was, shal I finde, in som route,

  Ye, oon or two, with-outen any doute.

  405 For-thy be glad, myn owene dere brother,

  If she be lost, we shal recovere another.

  `What, god for-bede alwey that ech plesaunce

  In o thing were, and in non other wight!

  If oon can singe, another can wel daunce;

  410 If this be goodly, she is glad and light;

  And this is fayr, and that can good a-right.

  Ech for his vertu holden is for dere,

  Bothe heroner and faucon for rivere.

  `And eek, as writ Zanzis, that was ful wys,

  415 "The newe love out chaceth ofte the olde;"

  And up-on newe cas lyth newe avys.
r />   Thenk eek, thy-self to saven artow holde;

  Swich fyr, by proces, shal of kinde colde.

  For sin it is but casuel plesaunce,

  420 Som cas shal putte it out of remembraunce.

  `For al-so seur as day cometh after night,

  The newe love, labour or other wo,

  Or elles selde seinge of a wight,

  Don olde affecciouns alle over-go.

  425 And, for thy part, thou shalt have oon of tho

  To abrigge with thy bittre peynes smerte;

  Absence of hir shal dryve hir out of herte.'

  Thise wordes seyde he for the nones alle,

  To helpe his freend, lest he for sorwe deyde.

  430 For douteles, to doon his wo to falle,

  He roughte not what unthrift that he seyde.

  But Troilus, that neigh for sorwe deyde,

  Tok litel hede of al that ever he mente;

  Oon ere it herde, at the other out it wente:

  435 But at the laste answerde and seyde, `Freend,

  This lechecraft, or heled thus to be,

  Were wel sitting, if that I were a feend,

  To traysen hir that trewe is unto me!

  I pray god, lat this consayl never y-thee;

  440 But do me rather sterve anon-right here

  Er I thus do as thou me woldest lere.

  `She that I serve, y-wis, what so thou seye,

  To whom myn herte enhabit is by right,

  Shal han me holly hires til that I deye.

  445 For, Pandarus, sin I have trouthe hir hight,

  I wol not been untrewe for no wight;

  But as hir man I wol ay live and sterve,

  And never other creature serve.

  `And ther thou seyst, thou shalt as faire finde

  450 As she, lat be, make no comparisoun

  To creature y-formed here by kinde.

  O leve Pandare, in conclusioun,

  I wol not be of thyn opinioun,

  Touching al this; for whiche I thee biseche,

  455 So hold thy pees; thou sleest me with thy speche.

  `Thow biddest me I sholde love an-other

  Al freshly newe, and lat Criseyde go!

  It lyth not in my power, leve brother.

  And though I mighte, I wolde not do so.

  460 But canstow pleyen raket, to and fro,

  Netle in, dokke out, now this, now that, Pandare?

  Now foule falle hir, for thy wo that care!

  `Thow farest eek by me, thou Pandarus,

  As he, that whan a wight is wo bi-goon,

  465 He cometh to him a pas, and seyth right thus,

  "Thenk not on smert, and thou shalt fele noon."

  Thou most me first transmuwen in a stoon,

  And reve me my passiounes alle,

  Er thou so lightly do my wo to falle.

  470 `The deeth may wel out of my brest departe

  The lyf, so longe may this sorwe myne;

  But fro my soule shal Criseydes darte

  Out never-mo; but doun with Proserpyne,

  Whan I am deed, I wol go wone in pyne;

  475 And ther I wol eternaly compleyne

  My wo, and how that twinned be we tweyne.

  `Thow hast here maad an argument, for fyn,

  How that it sholde a lasse peyne be

  Criseyde to for-goon, for she was myn,

  480 And live in ese and in felicitee.

  Why gabbestow, that seydest thus to me

  That "him is wors that is fro wele y-throwe,

  Than he hadde erst non of that wele y-knowe?"

  `But tel me now, sin that thee thinketh so light

  485 To chaungen so in love, ay to and fro,

  Why hastow not don bisily thy might

  To chaungen hir that doth thee al thy wo?

  Why niltow lete hir fro thyn herte go?

  Why niltow love an-other lady swete,

  490 That may thyn herte setten in quiete?

  `If thou hast had in love ay yet mischaunce,

  And canst it not out of thyn herte dryve,

  I, that livede in lust and in plesaunce

  With hir as muche as creature on-lyve,

  495 How sholde I that foryete, and that so blyve?

  O where hastow ben hid so longe in muwe,

  That canst so wel and formely arguwe?

  `Nay, nay, god wot, nought worth is al thy reed,

  For which, for what that ever may bifalle,

  500 With-outen wordes mo, I wol be deed.

  O deeth, that endere art of sorwes alle,

  Com now, sin I so ofte after thee calle,

  For sely is that deeth, soth for to seyne,

  That, ofte y-cleped, cometh and endeth peyne.

  505 `Wel wot I, whyl my lyf was in quiete,

  Er thou me slowe, I wolde have yeven hyre;

  But now thy cominge is to me so swete,

  That in this world I no-thing so desyre.

  O deeth, sin with this sorwe I am a-fyre,

  510 Thou outher do me anoon yn teres drenche,

  Or with thy colde strook myn hete quenche!

  `Sin that thou sleest so fele in sondry wyse

  Ayens hir wil, unpreyed, day and night,

  Do me, at my requeste, this servyse,

  515 Delivere now the world, so dostow right,

  Of me, that am the wofulleste wight

  That ever was; for tyme is that I sterve,

  Sin in this world of right nought may I serve.'

  This Troilus in teres gan distille,

  520 As licour out of alambyk ful faste;

  And Pandarus gan holde his tunge stille,

  And to the ground his eyen doun he caste.

  But nathelees, thus thoughte he at the laste,

  `What, parde, rather than my felawe deye,

  525 Yet shal I som-what more un-to him seye:'

  And seyde, `Freend, sin thou hast swich distresse,

  And sin thee list myn arguments to blame,

  Why nilt thy-selven helpen doon redresse,

  And with thy manhod letten al this grame?

  530 Go ravisshe hir ne canstow not for shame!

  And outher lat hir out of toune fare,

  Or hold hir stille, and leve thy nyce fare.

  `Artow in Troye, and hast non hardiment

  To take a womman which that loveth thee,

  535 And wolde hir-selven been of thyn assent?

  Now is not this a nyce vanitee?

  Rys up anoon, and lat this weping be,

  And kyth thou art a man, for in this houre

  I wil be deed, or she shal bleven oure.'

  540 To this answerde him Troilus ful softe,

  And seyde, `Parde, leve brother dere,

  Al this have I my-self yet thought ful ofte,

  And more thing than thou devysest here.

  But why this thing is laft, thou shalt wel here;

  545 And whan thou me hast yeve an audience,

  Ther-after mayst thou telle al thy sentence.

  `First, sin thou wost this toun hath al this werre

  For ravisshing of wommen so by might,

  It sholde not be suffred me to erre,

  550 As it stant now, ne doon so gret unright.

  I sh
olde han also blame of every wight,

  My fadres graunt if that I so withstode,

  Sin she is chaunged for the tounes goode.

  `I have eek thought, so it were hir assent,

  555 To aske hir at my fader, of his grace;

  Than thenke I, this were hir accusement,

  Sin wel I woot I may hir not purchace.

  For sin my fader, in so heigh a place

  As parlement, hath hir eschaunge enseled,

  560 He nil for me his lettre be repeled.

  `Yet drede I most hir herte to pertourbe

  With violence, if I do swich a game;

  For if I wolde it openly distourbe,

  It moste been disclaundre to hir name.

  565 And me were lever deed than hir defame,

  As nolde god but-if I sholde have

  Hir honour lever than my lyf to save!

  `Thus am I lost, for ought that I can see;

  For certeyn is, sin that I am hir knight,

  570 I moste hir honour levere han than me

  In every cas, as lovere oughte of right.

  Thus am I with desyr and reson twight;

  Desyr for to destourben hir me redeth,

  And reson nil not, so myn herte dredeth.'

  575 Thus wepinge that he coude never cesse,

  He seyde, `Allas! How shal I, wrecche, fare?

  For wel fele I alwey my love encresse,

  And hope is lasse and lasse alwey, Pandare!

  Encressen eek the causes of my care;

  580 So wel-a-wey, why nil myn herte breste?

  For, as in love, ther is but litel reste.'

  Pandare answerde, `Freend, thou mayst, for me,

  Don as thee list; but hadde ich it so hote,

  And thyn estat, she sholde go with me;

  585 Though al this toun cryede on this thing by note,

  I nolde sette at al that noyse a grote.

  For when men han wel cryed, than wol they roune;

  A wonder last but nyne night never in toune.

  `Devyne not in reson ay so depe

  590 Ne curteysly, but help thy-self anoon;

  Bet is that othere than thy-selven wepe,

  And namely, sin ye two been al oon.

  Rys up, for by myn heed, she shal not goon;

  And rather be in blame a lyte y-founde

  595 Than sterve here as a gnat, with-oute wounde.

  `It is no shame un-to yow, ne no vyce

  Hir to with-holden, that ye loveth most.

  Paraunter, she mighte holden thee for nyce

  To lete hir go thus to the Grekes ost.

  600 Thenk eek Fortune, as wel thy-selven wost,

  Helpeth hardy man to his enpryse,

  And weyveth wrecches, for hir cowardyse.

  `And though thy lady wolde a litel hir greve,

  Thou shalt thy pees ful wel here-after make,

  605 But as for me, certayn, I can not leve

  That she wolde it as now for yvel take.

  Why sholde than for ferd thyn herte quake?

  Thenk eek how Paris hath, that is thy brother,

  A love; and why shaltow not have another?

  610 `And Troilus, o thing I dar thee swere,

  That if Criseyde, whiche that is thy leef,

  Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here,

  God helpe me so, she nil nat take a-greef,

  Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef.

  615 And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe,

  Thanne is she fals; so love hir wel the lasse.

  `For-thy tak herte, and thenk, right as a knight,

  Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe.

  Kyth now sumwhat thy corage and thy might,

  620 Have mercy on thy-self, for any awe.

  Lat not this wrecched wo thin herte gnawe,

  But manly set the world on sixe and sevene;

  And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.

  `I wol my-self be with thee at this dede,

  625 Though ich and al my kin, up-on a stounde,

  Shulle in a strete as dogges liggen dede,

  Thourgh-girt with many a wyd and blody wounde.

  In every cas I wol a freend be founde.

  And if thee list here sterven as a wrecche,

  630 A-dieu, the devel spede him that it recche!'

  This Troilus gan with tho wordes quiken,

  And seyde, `Freend, graunt mercy, ich assente;

  But certaynly thou mayst not me so priken,

  Ne peyne noon ne may me so tormente,

  635 That, for no cas, it is not myn entente,

  At shorte wordes, though I dyen sholde,

  To ravisshe hir, but-if hir-self it wolde.'