Troilus and Criseyde

  `Why, so mene I,' quod Pandarus, `al this day.

  But tel me than, hastow hir wil assayed,

  That sorwest thus?' And he answerde, `Nay.'

  640 `Wher-of artow,' quod Pandare, `than a-mayed,

  That nost not that she wol ben y-vel apayed

  To ravisshe hir, sin thou hast not ben there,

  But-if that Iove tolde it in thyn ere?

  645 `For-thy rys up, as nought ne were, anoon,

  And wash thy face, and to the king thou wende,

  Or he may wondren whider thou art goon.

  Thou most with wisdom him and othere blende;

  Or, up-on cas, he may after thee sende

  650 Er thou be war; and shortly, brother dere,

  Be glad, and lat me werke in this matere.

  `For I shal shape it so, that sikerly

  Thou shalt this night som tyme, in som manere,

  Com speke with thy lady prevely,

  655 And by hir wordes eek, and by hir chere,

  Thou shalt ful sone aperceyve and wel here

  Al hir entente, and in this cas the beste;

  And fare now wel, for in this point I reste.'

  The swifte Fame, whiche that false thinges

  660 Egal reporteth lyk the thinges trewe,

  Was thorugh-out Troye y-fled with preste winges

  Fro man to man, and made this tale al newe,

  How Calkas doughter, with hir brighte hewe,

  At parlement, with-oute wordes more,

  665 I-graunted was in chaunge of Antenore.

  The whiche tale anoon-right as Criseyde

  Had herd, she, which that of hir fader roughte,

  As in this cas, right nought, ne whanne he deyde,

  Ful bisily to Iuppiter bisoughte

  670 Yeve hem mischaunce that this tretis broughte.

  But shortly, lest thise tales sothe were,

  She dorste at no wight asken it, for fere.

  As she that hadde hir herte and al hir minde

  On Troilus y-set so wonder faste,

  675 That al this world ne mighte hir love unbinde,

  Ne Troilus out of hir herte caste;

  She wol ben his, whyl that hir lyf may laste.

  And thus she brenneth bothe in love and drede,

  So that she niste what was best to rede.

  680 But as men seen in toune, and al aboute,

  That wommen usen frendes to visyte,

  So to Criseyde of wommen com a route

  For pitous Ioye, and wenden hir delyte;

  And with hir tales, dere y-nough a myte,

  685 These wommen, whiche that in the cite dwelle,

  They sette hem doun, and seyde as I shal telle.

  Quod first that oon, `I am glad, trewely,

  By-cause of yow, that shal your fader see.'

  A-nother seyde, `Y-wis, so nam not I,

  690 For al to litel hath she with us be.'

  Quod tho the thridde, `I hope, y-wis, that she

  Shal bringen us the pees on every syde,

  That, whan she gooth, almighty god hir gyde!'

  Tho wordes and tho wommanisshe thinges,

  695 She herde hem right as though she thennes were;

  For, god it wot, hir herte on other thing is,

  Although the body sat among hem there.

  Hir advertence is alwey elles-where;

  For Troilus ful faste hir soule soughte;

  700 With-outen word, alwey on him she thoughte.

  Thise wommen, that thus wenden hir to plese,

  Aboute nought gonne alle hir tales spende;

  Swich vanitee ne can don hir non ese,

  As she that, al this mene whyle. brende

  705 Of other passioun than that they wende,

  So that she felte almost hir herte deye

  For wo, and wery of that companye.

  For which no lenger mighte she restreyne

  Hir teres, so they gonnen up to welle,

  710 That yaven signes of the bitter peyne

  In whiche hir spirit was, and moste dwelle;

  Remembring hir, fro heven unto which helle

  She fallen was, sith she forgoth the sighte

  Of Troilus, and sorowfully she sighte.

  715 And thilke foles sittinge hir aboute

  Wenden, that she wepte and syked sore

  By-cause that she sholde out of that route

  Departe, and never pleye with hem more.

  And they that hadde y-knowen hir of yore

  720 Seye hir so wepe, and thoughte it kindenesse,

  And eche of hem wepte eek for hir destresse;

  And bisily they gonnen hir conforten

  Of thing, god wot, on which she litel thoughte;

  And with hir tales wenden hir disporten,

  725 And to be glad they often hir bisoughte.

  But swich an ese ther-with they hir wroughte

  Right as a man is esed for to fele,

  For ache of heed, to clawen him on his hele!

  But after al this nyce vanitee

  730 They took hir leve, and hoom they wenten alle.

  Criseyde, ful of sorweful pitee,

  In-to hir chaumbre up wente out of the halle,

  And on hir bed she gan for deed to falle,

  In purpos never thennes for to ryse;

  735 And thus she wroughte, as I shal yow devyse.

  Hir ounded heer, that sonnish was of hewe,

  She rente, and eek hir fingres longe and smale

  She wrong ful ofte, and bad god on hir rewe,

  And with the deeth to doon bote on hir bale.

  740 Hir hewe, whylom bright, that tho was pale,

  Bar witnes of hir wo and hir constreynte;

  And thus she spak, sobbinge, in hir compleynte:

  `Alas!' quod she, `out of this regioun

  I, woful wrecche and infortuned wight,

  745 And born in corsed constellacioun,

  Mot goon, and thus departen fro my knight;

  Wo worth, allas! That ilke dayes light

  On which I saw him first with eyen tweyne,

  That causeth me, and I him, al this peyne!'

  750 Therwith the teres from hir eyen two

  Doun fille, as shour in Aperill ful swythe;

  Hir whyte brest she bet, and for the wo

  After the deeth she cryed a thousand sythe,

  Sin he that wont hir wo was for to lythe,

  755 She mot for-goon; for which disaventure

  She held hir-self a forlost creature.

  She seyde, `How shal he doon, and I also?

  How sholde I live, if that I from him twinne?

  O dere herte eek, that I love so,

  760 Who shal that sorwe sleen that ye ben inne?

  O Calkas, fader, thyn be al this sinne!

  O moder myn, that cleped were Argyve,

  Wo worth that day that thou me bere on lyve!

  `To what fyn sholde I live and sorwen thus?

  765 How sholde a fish with-oute water dure?

  What is Criseyde worth, from Troilus?

  How sholde a plaunte or lyves creature

  Live, with-oute his kinde noriture?

  For which ful oft a by-word here I seye,

  770 That "rotelees, mot grene sone de
ye."

  `I shal don thus, sin neither swerd ne darte

  Dar I non handle, for the crueltee,

  That ilke day that I from yow departe,

  If sorwe of that nil not my bane be,

  775 Than shal no mete or drinke come in me

  Til I my soule out of my breste unshethe;

  And thus my-selven wol I do to dethe.

  `And, Troilus, my clothes everichoon

  Shul blake been, in tokeninge, herte swete,

  780 That I am as out of this world agoon,

  That wont was yow to setten in quiete;

  And of myn ordre, ay til deeth me mete,

  The observaunce ever, in your absence,

  Shal sorwe been, compleynte, and abstinence.

  785 `Myn herte and eek the woful goost ther-inne

  Biquethe I, with your spirit to compleyne

  Eternally, for they shal never twinne.

  For though in erthe y-twinned be we tweyne,

  Yet in the feld of pitee, out of peyne,

  790 That hight Elysos, shul we been y-fere,

  As Orpheus and Erudice, his fere.

  `Thus, herte myn, for Antenor, allas!

  I sone shal be chaunged, as I wene.

  But how shul ye don in this sorwful cas,

  795 How shal youre tendre herte this sustene?

  But herte myn, for-yet this sorwe and tene,

  And me also; for, soothly for to seye,

  So ye wel fare, I recche not to deye.'

  How mighte it ever y-red ben or y-songe,

  800 The pleynte that she made in hir distresse?

  I noot; but, as for me, my litel tonge,

  If I discreven wolde hir hevinesse,

  It sholde make hir sorwe seme lesse

  Than that it was, and childishly deface

  805 Hir heigh compleynte, and therfore I it pace.

  Pandare, which that sent from Troilus

  Was to Criseyde, as ye han herd devyse,

  That for the beste it was accorded thus,

  And he ful glad to doon him that servyse,

  810 Un-to Criseyde, in a ful secree wyse,

  Ther-as she lay in torment and in rage,

  Com hir to telle al hoolly his message,

  And fond that she hir-selven gan to trete

  Ful pitously; for with hir salte teres

  815 Hir brest, hir face, y-bathed was ful wete;

  The mighty tresses of hir sonnish heres,

  Unbroyden, hangen al aboute hir eres;

  Which yaf him verray signal of martyre

  Of deeth, which that hir herte gan desyre.

  820 Whan she him saw, she gan for sorwe anoon

  Hir tery face a-twixe hir armes hide,

  For which this Pandare is so wo bi-goon,

  That in the hous he mighte unnethe abyde,

  As he that pitee felte on every syde.

  825 For if Criseyde hadde erst compleyned sore,

  Tho gan she pleyne a thousand tymes more.

  And in hir aspre pleynte than she seyde,

  `Pandare first of Ioyes mo than two

  Was cause causinge un-to me, Criseyde,

  830 That now transmuwed been in cruel wo.

  Wher shal I seye to yow "wel come" or no,

  That alderfirst me broughte in-to servyse

  Of love, allas! That endeth in swich wyse?

  `Endeth than love in wo? Ye, or men lyeth!

  835 And alle worldly blisse, as thinketh me.

  The ende of blisse ay sorwe it occupyeth;

  And who-so troweth not that it so be,

  Lat him upon me, woful wrecche, y-see,

  That my-self hate, and ay my birthe acorse,

  840 Felinge alwey, fro wikke I go to worse.

  `Who-so me seeth, he seeth sorwe al at ones,

  Peyne, torment, pleynte, wo, distresse.

  Out of my woful body harm ther noon is,

  As anguish, langour, cruel bitternesse,

  845 A-noy, smert, drede, fury, and eek siknesse.

  I trowe, y-wis, from hevene teres reyne,

  For pitee of myn aspre and cruel peyne! '

  `And thou, my suster, ful of discomfort,'

  Quod Pandarus, `what thenkestow to do?

  850 Why ne hastow to thy-selven som resport,

  Why woltow thus thy-selve, allas, for-do?

  Leef al this werk and tak now hede to

  That I shal seyn, and herkne, of good entente,

  This, which by me thy Troilus thee sente.'

  855 Torned hir tho Criseyde, a wo makinge

  So greet that it a deeth was for to see: --

  `Allas!' quod she, `what wordes may ye bringe?

  What wol my dere herte seyn to me,

  Which that I drede never-mo to see?

  860 Wol he have pleynte or teres, er I wende?

  I have y-nowe, if he ther-after sende!'

  She was right swich to seen in hir visage

  As is that wight that men on bere binde;

  Hir face, lyk of Paradys the image,

  865 Was al y-chaunged in another kinde.

  The pleye, the laughtre men was wont to finde

  On hir, and eek hir Ioyes everychone,

  Ben fled, and thus lyth now Criseyde allone.

  Aboute hir eyen two a purpre ring

  870 Bi-trent, in sothfast tokninge of hir peyne,

  That to biholde it was a dedly thing,

  For which Pandare mighte not restreyne

  The teres from his eyen for to reyne.

  But nathelees, as he best mighte, he seyde

  875 From Troilus thise wordes to Criseyde.

  `Lo, nece, I trowe ye han herd al how

  The king, with othere lordes, for the beste,

  Hath mad eschaunge of Antenor and yow,

  That cause is of this sorwe and this unreste.

  880 But how this cas doth Troilus moleste,

  That may non erthely mannes tonge seye;

  For verray wo his wit is al aweye.

  `For which we han so sorwed, he and I,

  That in-to litel bothe it hadde us slawe;

  885 But thurgh my conseil this day, fynally,

  He somwhat is fro weping now with-drawe.

  And semeth me that he desyreth fawe

  With yow to been al night, for to devyse

  Remede in this, if ther were any wyse.

  890 `This, short and pleyne, theffect of my message,

  As ferforth as my wit can comprehende.

  For ye, that been of torment in swich rage,

  May to no long prologe as now entende;

  And her-upon ye may answere him sende.

  895 And, for the love of god, my nece dere,

  So leef this wo er Troilus be here.'

  `Gret is my wo,' quod she, and sighte sore,

  As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse;

  `But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more,

  900 That love him bet than he him-self, I gesse.

  Allas! For me hath he swich hevinesse?

  Can he for me so pitously compleyne?

  Y-wis, his sorwe doubleth al my peyne.

  `Grevous to me, god wot, is for to twinne,'

  905 Quod she, `but yet it hardere is to me

&
nbsp; To seen that sorwe which that he is inne;

  For wel wot I, it wol my bane be;

  And deye I wol in certayn,' tho quod she;

  `But bidde him come, er deeth, that thus me threteth,

  910 Dryve out that goost which in myn herte beteth.'

  Thise wordes seyd, she on hir armes two

  Fil gruf, and gan to wepe pitously.

  Quod Pandarus, `Allas! Why do ye so,

  Syn wel ye woot the tyme is faste by,

  915 That he shal come? Arys up hastely,

  That he yow nat biwopen thus ne finde,

  But ye wol have him wood out of his minde!

  `For wiste he that ye ferde in this manere,

  He wolde him-selve slee; and if I wende

  920 To han this fare, he sholde not come here

  For al the good that Pryam may despende.

  For to what fyn he wolde anoon pretende,

  That knowe I wel; and for-thy yet I seye,

  So leef this sorwe, or platly he wol deye.

  925 `And shapeth yow his sorwe for to abregge,

  And nought encresse, leve nece swete;

  Beth rather to him cause of flat than egge,

  And with som wysdom ye his sorwes bete.

  What helpeth it to wepen ful a strete,

  930 Or though ye bothe in salte teres dreynte?

  Bet is a tyme of cure ay than of pleynte.

  `I mene thus; whan I him hider bringe,

  Sin ye ben wyse, and bothe of oon assent,

  So shapeth how distourbe your goinge,

  935 Or come ayen, sone after ye be went.

  Wommen ben wyse in short avysement;

  And lat sen how your wit shal now avayle;

  And what that I may helpe, it shal not fayle.'

  `Go,' quod Criseyde, `and uncle, trewely,

  940 I shal don al my might, me to restreyne

  From weping in his sighte, and bisily,

  Him for to glade, I shal don al my peyne,

  And in myn herte seken every veyne;

  If to this soor ther may be founden salve,

  945 It shal not lakken, certain, on myn halve.'

  Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he soughte,

  Til in a temple he fond him allone,

  As he that of his lyf no lenger roughte;

  But to the pitouse goddes everichone

  950 Ful tendrely he preyde, and made his mone,

  To doon him sone out of this world to pace;

  For wel he thoughte ther was non other grace.

  And shortly, al the sothe for to seye,

  He was so fallen in despeyr that day,

  955 That outrely he shoop him for to deye.

  For right thus was his argument alwey:

  He seyde, he nas but loren, waylawey!

  `For al that comth, comth by necessitee;

  Thus to be lorn, it is my destinee.

  960 `For certaynly, this wot I wel,' he seyde,

  `That for-sight of divyne purveyaunce

  Hath seyn alwey me to for-gon Criseyde,

  Sin god seeth every thing, out of doutaunce,

  And hem disponeth, thourgh his ordenaunce,

  965 In hir merytes sothly for to be,

  As they shul comen by predestinee.

  `But nathelees, allas! Whom shal I leve?

  For ther ben grete clerkes many oon,

  That destinee thorugh argumentes preve;

  970 And som men seyn that nedely ther is noon;

  But that free chois is yeven us everichoon.

  O, welaway! So sleye arn clerkes olde,

  That I not whos opinion I may holde.

  `For som men seyn, if god seth al biforn,

  975 Ne god may not deceyved ben, pardee,

  Than moot it fallen, though men hadde it sworn,

  That purveyaunce hath seyn bifore to be.

  Wherfor I seye, that from eterne if he

  Hath wist biforn our thought eek as our dede,

  980 We have no free chois, as these clerkes rede.

  `For other thought nor other dede also

  Might never be, but swich as purveyaunce,

  Which may not ben deceyved never-mo,

  Hath feled biforn, with-outen ignoraunce.

  985 For if ther mighte been a variaunce

  To wrythen out fro goddes purveyinge,

  Ther nere no prescience of thing cominge;

  `But it were rather an opinioun

  Uncerteyn, and no stedfast forseinge;

  990 And certes, that were an abusioun,

  That god shuld han no parfit cleer witinge

  More than we men that han doutous weninge.

  But swich an errour up-on god to gesse