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.

65. And ther thou seyst, thou shall as faire finde

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,

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

66. 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.

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!

67. Thow farest eek by me, thou Pandarus,

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

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.

68. 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;

And ther I wol eternally compleyne

My wo, and how that twinned be we tweyne.

69. Thow hast here maad an argument, for fyn,

How that it sholde lasse peyne be

Criseyde to for-goon, for she was myn,

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?"

70. But tel me now, sin that thee thinketh so light

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,

That may thyn herte setten in quiete?

71. 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,

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?

72. Nay, nay, god wot, nought worth is al thy reed,

For which, for what that ever may bifalle,

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.

73. 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,

Thou outher do me anoon in teres drenche,

Or with thy colde strook myn hete quenche!

74. Sin that thou sleest so fele in sondry wyse

Ayens hir wil, unpreyed, day and night,

Do me, at my requeste, this servyse,

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.'

75. This Troilus in teres gan distille,

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,

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

76. 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?

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.

77. Artow in Troye, and hast non hardiment

To take a womman which that loveth thee,

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.'

78. 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;

And whan thou me hast yeve an audience,

Ther-after mayst thou telle al thy sentence.

79. 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,

As it stant now, ne doon so gret unright.

I sholde han also blame of every wight,

My fadres graunt if that I so withstode,

Sin she is chaunged for the tounes goode.

80. I have eek thought, so it were hir assent,

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,

He nil for me his lettre be repeled.

81. 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.

And me were lever deed than hir defame,

As nolde god but-if I sholde have

Hir honour lever than my lyf to save!

82. Thus am I lost, for ought that I can see;

For certeyn is, sin that I am hir knight,

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 distourben hir me redeth,

And reson nil not, so myn herte dredeth.'

83. 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;

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

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

84. 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;

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.

85. Devyne not in reson ay so depe

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

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

86. 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.

Thenk eek Fortune, as wel thy-selven wost,

Helpeth hardy man to his empryse,

And weyveth wrecches, for hir cowardyse.

87. And though thy lady wolde a litel hir greve,

Thou shalt thy pees ful wel here-after make,

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?

88. 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 not take a-greef,

Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef.

And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe,

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

89. 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,

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.

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

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,

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

91. 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,

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.'

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

But tel me than, hastow hir wel assayed,

That sorwest thus?' And he answerde, 'nay.'

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

That nost not that she wol ben yvel apayed

To ravisshe hir, sin thou hast not ben there,

But-if that Iove tolde it in thyn ere?

93. 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

Er thou be war; and shortly, brother dere,

Be glad, and lat me werke in this matere.

94. For I shal shape it so, that sikerly

Thou shalt this night som tyme, in som manere,

Com speke with thy lady prevely,

And by hir wordes eek, and by hir chere,

Thou shalt ful sone aparceyve and wel here

Al hir entente, and in this cas the beste;

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

95. The swifte Fame, whiche that false thinges

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,

I-graunted was in chaunge of Antenore.

96. 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

Yeve him mischaunce that this tretis broughte.

But shortly, lest thise tales sothe were,

She dorste at no wight asken it, for fere.

97. As she that hadde hir herte and al hir minde

On Troilus y-set so wonder faste,

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.

98. 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,

These wommen, whiche that in the cite dwelle,

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

99. 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;

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!'

100. Tho wordes and tho wommannisshe thinges,

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;

With-outen word, alwey on him she thoughte.

101. 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

Of other passioun than that they wende,

So that she felte almost hir herte deye

For wo, and wery of that companye.

102. For which no lenger mighte she restreyne

Hir teres, so they gonnen up to welle,

That yeven 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.

103. 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

Seye hir so wepe, and thoughte it kindenesse,

And eche of hem wepte eek for hir distresse;

104. And bisily they gonnen hir conforten

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

And with hir tales wenden hir disporten,

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!

105. But after al this nyce vanitee

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;

And thus she wroughte, as I shal yow devyse.

106. 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.

Hir hewe, whylom bright, that tho was pale,

Bar witnes of hir wo and hir constreynte;

And thus she spak, sobbinge, in hir compleynte:

107. 'Alas!' quod she, 'out of this regioun

I, woful wrecche and infortuned wight,

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!'

108. 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,

She mot for-goon; for which disaventure

She held hir-self a forlost creature.

109. 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,

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!

110. To what fyn sholde I live and sorwen thus?

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,

That, "rotelees, mot grene sone deye."

111. 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,

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.

112. And, Troilus, my clothes everichoon

Shul blake been, in tokeninge, herte swete,

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.

113. Myn herte and eek the woful goost ther-inne

Biquethe I, with your spirit to compleyne

Eternally, for they shul never twinne.

For though in erthe y-twinned be we tweyne,

Yet in the feld of pitee, out of peyne,

That hight Elysos, shul we been y-fere,

As Orpheus and Erudice his fere.

114. Thus herte myn, for Antenor, allas!

I sone shal be chaunged, as I wene.

But how shul ye don in this sorwful cas,

How shal your 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.'

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

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

Hir heigh compleynte, and therfore I it pace.

116. 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,

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.

117. And fond that she hir-selven gan to trete

Ful pitously; for with hir salte teres

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.

118. Whan she him saw, she gan for sorwe anoon

Hir tery face a-twixe hir armes hyde,

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.

For if Criseyde hadde erst compleyned sore,

Tho gan she pleyne a thousand tymes more.

119. And in hir aspre pleynte than she seyde,

'Pandare first of Ioyes mo than two

Was cause causinge un-to me, Criseyde,

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?

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

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,

Felinge alwey, fro wikke I go to worse.

121. 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,

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

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

For pitee of myn aspre and cruel peyne!'

122. 'And thou, my suster, ful of discomfort,'

Quod Pandarus, 'what thenkestow to do?

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.'

123. 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?