188. Of hir delyt, or Ioyes oon the leste

Were impossible to my wit to seye;

But iuggeth, ye that han ben at the feste,

Of swich gladnesse, if that hem liste pleye!

I can no more, but thus thise ilke tweye

That night, be-twixen dreed and sikernesse,

Felten in love the grete worthinesse.

189. O blisful night, of hem so longe y-sought,

How blithe un-to hem bothe two thou were!

Why ne hadde I swich on with my soule y-bought,

Ye, or the leeste Ioye that was there?

A-wey, thou foule daunger and thou fere,

And lat hem in this hevene blisse dwelle,

That is so heygh, that al ne can I telle!

190. But sooth is, though I can not tellen al,

As can myn auctor, of his excellence,

Yet have I seyd, and, god to-forn, I shal

In every thing al hoolly his sentence.

And if that I, at loves reverence,

Have any word in eched for the beste,

Doth therwith-al right as your-selven leste.

191. For myne wordes, here and every part,

I speke hem alle under correccioun

Of yow, that feling han in loves art,

And putte it al in your discrecioun

To encrese or maken diminucioun

Of my langage, and that I yow bi-seche;

But now to purpos of my rather speche.

192. Thise ilke two, that ben in armes laft,

So looth to hem a-sonder goon it were,

That ech from other wende been biraft,

Or elles, lo, this was hir moste fere,

That al this thing but nyce dremes were;

For which ful ofte ech of hem seyde, 'O swete,

Clippe ich yow thus, or elles I it mete?'

193. And, lord! so he gan goodly on hir see,

That never his look ne bleynte from hir face,

And seyde, 'O dere herte, may it be

That it be sooth, that ye ben in this place?'

'Ye, herte myn, god thank I of his grace!'

Quod tho Criseyde, and therwith-al him kiste,

That where his spirit was, for Ioye he niste.

194. This Troilus ful ofte hir eyen two

Gan for to kisse, and seyde, 'O eyen clere,

It were ye that wroughte me swich wo,

Ye humble nettes of my lady dere!

Though ther be mercy writen in your chere,

God wot, the text ful hard is, sooth, to finde,

How coude ye with-outen bond me binde?'

195. Therwith he gan hir faste in armes take,

And wel an hundred tymes gan he syke,

Nought swiche sorwful sykes as men make

For wo, or elles whan that folk ben syke,

But esy sykes, swiche as been to lyke,

That shewed his affeccioun with-inne;

Of swiche sykes coude he nought bilinne.

196. Sone after this they speke of sondry thinges,

As fil to purpos of this aventure,

And pleyinge entrechaungeden hir ringes,

Of which I can nought tellen no scripture;

But wel I woot a broche, gold and asure,

In whiche a ruby set was lyk an herte,

Criseyde him yaf, and stak it on his sherte.

197. Lord! trowe ye, a coveitous, a wrecche,

That blameth love and holt of it despyt,

That, of tho pens that he can mokre and kecche,

Was ever yet y-yeve him swich delyt,

As is in love, in oo poynt, in som plyt?

Nay, doutelees, for also god me save,

So parfit Ioye may no nigard have!

198. They wol sey 'yis,' but lord! so that they lye,

Tho bisy wrecches, ful of wo and drede!

They callen love a woodnesse or folye,

But it shal falle hem as I shal yow rede;

They shul forgo the whyte and eke the rede,

And live in wo, ther god yeve hem mischaunce,

And every lover in his trouthe avaunce!

199. As wolde god, tho wrecches, that dispyse

Servyse of love, hadde eres al-so longe

As hadde Myda, ful of coveityse;

And ther-to dronken hadde as hoot and stronge

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!

200. Thise ilke two, of whom that I yow seye,

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,

I thanke it god, was tourned to gladnesse.

201. 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,

And diden al hir might, sin they were oon,

For to recoveren blisse and been at ese,

And passed wo with Ioye countrepeyse.

202. Reson wil not that I speke of sleep,

For it accordeth nought to my matere;

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.

203. 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,

Fortuna maior, [than] anoon Criseyde,

With herte sore, to Troilus thus seyde:—

204. 'Myn hertes lyf, my trist and my plesaunce,

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

That day of us mot make desseveraunce!

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?

205. O blake night, as folk in bokes rede,

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,

That thou thus fleest, and deynest us nought reste!

206. 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,

That never-more under the ground thou winde!

For now, for thou so hyest out of Troye,

Have I forgon thus hastily my Ioye!'

207. This Troilus, that with tho wordes felte,

As thoughte him tho, for pietous distresse,

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:—

208. '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 yën!

Envyous day, what list thee so to spyen?

What hastow lost, why sekestow this place,

Ther god thy lyght so quenche, for his grace?

209. Allas! what han thise loveres thee agilt,

Dispitous day? thyn be the pyne of helle!

For many a lovere hastow shent, and wilt;

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.'

210. And eek the sonne Tytan gan he chyde,

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! hold your bed ther, thou, and eek thy Morwe!

I bidde god, so yeve yow bothe sorwe!'

211. 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?

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?

212. What shal I doon, for certes, I not how,

Ne whanne, allas! I shal the tyme see,

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?

213. 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,

Me lever were than thise worldes tweyne,

Yet sholde I bet enduren al my peyne.'

214. To that Cryseyde answerde right anoon,

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

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

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!

215. Ye be so depe in-with myn herte grave,

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 hath wrought,

Lat in your brayn non other fantasye

So crepe, that it cause me to dye!

216. 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!

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!

217. Beth glad for-thy, and live in sikernesse;

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

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.

218. 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,

He seyde, 'farewel, my dere herte swete,

Ther god us graunte sounde and sone to mete!'

219. To which no word for sorwe she answerde,

So sore gan his parting hir destreyne;

And Troilus un-to his palays ferde,

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.

220. Retorned to his real palais, sone

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,

A thousand-fold was worth more than he wende.

221. And in his thought gan up and doun to winde

Hir wordes alle, and every contenaunce,

And fermely impressen in his minde

The leste poynt that to him was plesaunce;

And verrayliche, of thilke remembraunce,

Desyr al newe him brende, and lust to brede

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

222. Criseyde also, right in the same wyse,

Of Troilus gan in hir herte shette

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.

223. 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;

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

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

224. 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,

Fox that ye been, god yeve your herte care!

God helpe 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!'

225. With that she gan hir face for to wrye

With the shete, and wex for shame al reed;

And Pandarus gan under for to prye,

And seyde, 'nece, if that I shal ben deed,

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

With that his arm al sodeynly he thriste

Under hir nekke, and at the laste hir kiste.

226. 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.

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.

227. Now torne we ayein to Troilus,

That resteles ful longe a-bedde lay,

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.

228. This Troilus, with al the affeccioun

Of frendes love that herte may devyse,

To Pandarus on kneës fil adoun,

And er that he wolde of the place aryse,

He gan him thonken in his beste wyse;

A hondred sythe he gan the tyme blesse,

That he was born to bringe him fro distresse.

229. 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

Fro Flegiton, 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.

230. The sonne, which that al the world may see,

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

So inly fair 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

Of love, and eek thy kinde bisinesse.

231. 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.'

And with that word doun in his bed he lay,

And Pandarus ful sobrely him herde

Til al was seyd, and thanne he him answerde:

232. 'My dere frend, if I have doon for thee

In any cas, god wot, it is me leef;

And am as glad as man may of it be,

God help me so; but tak now not 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.

233. For of fortunes sharp 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,

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

234. Thou art at ese, and holde thee wel ther-inne.

For also seur as reed is every fyr,

As greet a craft is kepe wel as winne;

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.'

235. Quod Troilus, 'I hope, and god to-forn,

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,

God woot, of this thou woldest litel care.'

236. 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,

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.

237. I noot my-self not wisly what it is;

But now I fele a newe qualitee,

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.

238. This is o word for 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.

This tale ay was span-newe to biginne

Til that the night departed hem a-twinne.

239. Sone after this, for that fortune it wolde,

I-comen was the blisful tyme swete,

That Troilus was warned that he sholde,

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.

240. And holden was the forme and al the wyse,

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 seurte Pandarus hem two

A-bedde broughte, whan hem bothe leste,

And thus they ben in quiete and in reste.

241. 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.

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.

242. This is no litel thing of for to seye,

This passeth every wit for to devyse;

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.

243. 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 gonnen to dispyse al newe,

Calling it traytour, envyous, and worse,

And bitterly the dayes light they curse.

244. Quod Troilus, 'allas! now am I war

That Pirous and tho swifte stedes three,

Whiche that drawen forth the sonnes char,

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!'

245. But nedes day departe moste hem sone,

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

Criseyde, and eek this kinges sone of Troye.

246. In suffisaunce, in blisse, and in singinges,

This Troilus gan al his lyf to lede;

He spendeth, Iusteth, maketh festeyinges;

He yeveth frely ofte, and chaungeth wede,

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;

247. That swich a voys was of hym and a stevene

Thorugh-out the world, of honour and largesse,

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.