Was ever y-lyke prest and diligent;

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.

71. 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;

Or of what wight that stant in swich disioynte,

His wordes alle, or every look, to poynte.

72. 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;

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?

73. But to the grete effect: than sey I thus,

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,

That it befel right as I shal yow telle,

74. 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,

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.

75. For he with greet deliberacioun

Hadde every thing that her-to mighte avayle

Forn-cast, and put in execucioun,

And neither laft, for cost ne for travayle;

Come if hem lest, hem sholde no-thing fayle;

And for to been in ought espyed there,

That, wiste he wel, an inpossible were.

76. 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 timber is al redy up to frame;

Us lakketh nought but that we witen wolde

A certein houre, in whiche she comen sholde.

77. And Troilus, that al this purveyaunce

Knew at the fulle, and waytede on it ay,

Hadde here-up-on eek made gret ordenaunce,

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,

78. And moste at swich a temple alone wake,

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,

But preye Apollo helpen in this nede.

79. Now is ther litel more for to done,

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,

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.

80. Whan he was come, he gan anoon to pleye

As he was wont, and of him-self to Iape;

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.

81. 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,

Or elles, softe he swor hir in hir ere,

He nolde never come ther she were.

82. 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,'

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.'

83. Nought list myn auctor fully to declare

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-oute awayt, with him to go,

She graunted him, sith he hir that bisoughte,

And, as his nece, obeyed as hir oughte.

84. 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,

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.'

85. He swor hir, 'yis, by stokkes and by stones,

And by the goddes that in hevene dwelle,

Or elles were him lever, 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,

86. 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

Thurgh-out a litel windowe in a stewe,

Ther he bishet, sin midnight, was in mewe,

87. Unwist of every wight but of Pandare?

But to the poynt; now whan she was y-come

With alle Ioye, and alle frendes fare,

Hir eem 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.

88. And after souper gonnen they to ryse,

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,

She took hir leve, and nedes wolde wende.

89. 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.

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.

90. The bente mone with hir hornes pale,

Saturne, and Iove, in Cancro ioyned were,

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!

91. 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.

For, by my trouthe, I sey it nought a-game,

To wende as now, it were to me a shame.'

92. Criseyde, whiche that coude as muche good

As half a world, tok hede of his preyere;

And sin it ron, and al was on a flood,

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.

93. 'I wol,' quod she, 'myn uncle leef and dere,

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,

Now am I glad, sin that yow list to dwelle.'

94. 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,

And seyde, 'lord, this is an huge rayn!

This were a weder for to slepen inne;

And that I rede us sone to biginne.

95. And nece, woot ye wher I wol yow leye,

For that we shul not liggen fer asonder,

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.

96. And in this middel chaumbre that ye see

Shul 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.

The wyn anon, and whan so that yow leste,

So go we slepe, I trowe it be the beste.'

97. Ther nis no more, but here-after sone,

The voydè dronke, and travers drawe anon,

Gan every wight, that hadde nought to done

More in that 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.

98. Tho Pandarus, hir eem, right as him oughte,

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,

That, whom yow liste of hem, ye may here calle.'

99. 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,

But boden go to bedde, with mischaunce,

If any wight was steringe any-where,

And late hem slepe that a-bedde were.

100. But Pandarus, that wel coude eche a del

The olde daunce, and every poynt ther-inne,

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.

101. 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,'

Quod Troilus, 'for never yet no nede

Hadde I er now, ne halvendel the drede.'

102. 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,

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.

103. And if I hadde, O Venus ful of murthe,

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,

I mene Adoon, that with the boor was slawe.

104. O Iove eek, for the love of faire Europe,

The whiche in forme of bole away thou fette;

Now help, O Mars, thou with thy blody cope,

For love of Cipris, thou me nought ne lette;

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!

105. Mercurie, for the love of Hiersè eke,

For which Pallas was with Aglauros wrooth,

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 destenè me sponne,

So helpeth to this werk that is bi-gonne!'

106. 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 han the wyte;

But byd, and lat me go bifore a lyte.'

And with that word he gan un-do a trappe,

And Troilus he broughte in by the lappe.

107. The sterne wind so loude gan to route

That no wight other noyse mighte here;

And they that layen at the dore with-oute,

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.

108. And as he com ayeinward prively,

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;

Lat no wight ryse and heren of our speche.'

109. '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.'

'Ey! god forbede that it sholde falle,'

Quod Pandarus, 'that ye swich foly wroughte!

They mighte deme thing they never er thoughte!

110. It is nought good a sleping hound to wake,

Ne yeve a wight a cause to devyne;

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.

111. 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,

I mene, as love an other in this whyle,

She doth hir-self a shame, and him a gyle.

112. 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

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, whyl ye liven sholde.

113. Now stant it thus, that sith I fro yow wente,

This Troilus, right platly for to seyn,

Is thurgh a goter, by a privè 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,

And by that feith I shal Pryam of Troye!

114. 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,

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.'

115. Criseyde, which that al this wonder herde,

Gan sodeynly aboute hir herte colde,

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!

116. 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

As ever dide womman, if him lyke';

And with that word she gan ful sore syke.

117. 'O god!' quod she, 'so worldly selinesse,

Which clerkes callen fals felicitee,

Y-medled is with many a bitternesse!

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.

118. O brotel wele of mannes Ioye unstable!

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,

That is of ignoraunce ay in derknesse?

119. 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

May in no parfit selinesse be.

And if to lese his Ioye he set a myte,

Than semeth it that Ioye is worth ful lyte.

120. Wherfore I wol deffyne in this matere,

That trewely, for ought I can espye,

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?'

121. 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.

For ye may quenche al this, if that yow leste,

And doth right so, for I holde it the beste.'

122. '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 fayr,' quod he,

'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.

123. Nece, al thing hath tyme, I dar avowe;

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

The harm is doon, and fare-wel feldefare!

124. 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;

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 Iupartye.'

125. 'Hadde I him never leef? By god, I wene

Ye hadde never thing so leef,' quod she.

'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!

126. 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.

What, platly, and ye suffre him in distresse,

Ye neither bountee doon ne gentilesse!'

127. Quod tho Criseyde, 'wole ye doon o thing,

And ye therwith shal stinte al his disese;

Have here, and bereth him this blewe ringe,

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.'