By alle right, and in a wordes fewe,

I shal yow wel an heep of weyes shewe.

184. For which I wol not make long sermoun,

For tyme y-lost may not recovered be;

But I wol gon to my conclusioun,

And to the beste, in ought that I can see.

And, for the love of god, for-yeve it me

If I speke ought ayein your hertes reste;

For trewely, I speke it for the beste;

185. Makinge alwey a protestacioun,

That now these wordes, whiche that I shal seye,

Nis but to shewe yow my mocioun,

To finde un-to our helpe the beste weye;

And taketh it non other wyse, I preye.

For in effect what-so ye me comaunde,

That wol I doon, for that is no demaunde.

186. Now herkeneth this, ye han wel understonde,

My goinge graunted is by parlement

So ferforth, that it may not be with-stonde

For al this world, as by my Iugement.

And sin ther helpeth noon avysement

To letten it, lat it passe out of minde;

And lat us shape a bettre wey to finde.

187. The sothe is, that the twinninge of us tweyne

Wol us disese and cruelliche anoye.

But him bihoveth som-tyme han a peyne,

That serveth love, if that he wol have Ioye.

And sin I shal no ferthere out of Troye

Than I may ryde ayein on half a morwe,

It oughte lasse causen us to sorwe.

188. So as I shal not so ben hid in muwe,

That day by day, myn owene herte dere,

Sin wel ye woot that it is now a truwe,

Ye shul ful wel al myn estat y-here.

And er that truwe is doon, I shal ben here,

And thanne have ye bothe Antenor y-wonne

And me also; beth glad now, if ye conne;

189. And thenk right thus, "Criseyde is now agoon,

But what! she shal come hastely ayeyn;"

And whanne, allas? by god, lo, right anoon,

Er dayes ten, this dar I saufly seyn.

And thanne at erste shul we been so fayn,

So as we shulle to-gederes ever dwelle,

Thal al this world ne mighte our blisse telle.

190. I see that ofte, ther-as we ben now,

That for the beste, our conseil for to hyde,

Ye speke not with me, nor I with yow

In fourtenight; ne see yow go ne ryde.

May ye not ten dayes thanne abyde,

For myn honour, in swich an aventure?

Y-wis, ye mowen elles lite endure!

191. Ye knowe eek how that al my kin is here,

But-if that onliche it my fader be;

And eek myn othere thinges alle y-fere,

And nameliche, my dere herte, ye,

Whom that I nolde leven for to see

For al this world, as wyd as it hath space;

Or elles, see ich never Ioves face!

192. Why trowe ye my fader in this wyse

Coveiteth so to see me, but for drede

Lest in this toun that folkes me dispyse

By-cause of him, for his unhappy dede?

What woot my fader what lyf that I lede?

For if he wiste in Troye how wel I fare,

Us neded for my wending nought to care.

193. Ye seen that every day eek, more and more,

Men trete of pees; and it supposed is,

That men the quene Eleyne shal restore,

And Grekes us restore that is mis.

So though ther nere comfort noon but this,

That men purposen pees on every syde,

Ye may the bettre at ese of herte abyde.

194. For if that it be pees, myn herte dere,

The nature of the pees mot nedes dryve

That men moste entrecomunen y-fere,

And to and fro eek ryde and gon as blyve

Alday as thikke as been flen from an hyve;

And every wight han libertee to bleve

Wher-as him list the bet, with-outen leve.

195. And though so be that pees ther may be noon,

Yet hider, though ther never pees ne were,

I moste come; for whider sholde I goon,

Or how mischaunce sholde I dwelle there

Among tho men of armes ever in fere?

For which, as wisly god my soule rede,

I can not seen wher-of ye sholden drede.

196. Have here another wey, if it so be

That al this thing ne may yow not suffyse.

My fader, as ye knowen wel, pardee,

Is old, and elde is ful of coveityse.

And I right now have founden al the gyse,

With-oute net, wher-with I shal him hente;

And herkeneth how, if that ye wole assente.

197. Lo, Troilus, men seyn that hard it is

The wolf ful, and the wether hool to have;

This is to seyn, that men ful ofte, y-wis,

Mot spenden part, the remenaunt for to save.

For ay with gold men may the herte grave

Of him that set is up-on coveityse;

And how I mene, I shal it yow devyse.

198. The moeble which that I have in this toun

Un-to my fader shal I take, and seye,

That right for trust and for savacioun

It sent is from a freend of his or tweye,

The whiche freendes ferventliche him preye

To senden after more, and that in hye,

Whyl that this toun stant thus in Iupartye.

199. And that shal been an huge quantitee,

Thus shal I seyn, but, lest it folk aspyde,

This may be sent by no wight but by me;

I shal eek shewen him, if pees bityde,

What frendes that ich have on every syde

Toward the court, to doon the wrathe pace

Of Priamus, and doon him stonde in grace.

200. So, what for o thing and for other, swete,

I shal him so enchaunten with my sawes,

That right in hevene his sowle is, shal he mete!

For al Appollo, or his clerkes lawes,

Or calculinge avayleth nought three hawes;

Desyr of gold shal so his sowle blende,

That, as me lyst, I shal wel make an ende.

201. And if he wolde ought by his sort it preve

If that I lye, in certayn I shal fonde

Distorben him, and plukke him by the sleve,

Makinge his sort, and beren him on honde,

He hath not wel the goddes understonde.

For goddes speken in amphibologyes,

And, for a sooth, they tellen twenty lyes.

202. Eek drede fond first goddes, I suppose,

Thus shal I seyn, and that his cowarde herte

Made him amis the goddes text to glose,

Whan he for ferde out of his Delphos sterte.

And but I make him sone to converte,

And doon my reed with-inne a day or tweye,

I wol to yow oblige me to deye.'

203. And treweliche, as writen wel I finde,

That al this thing was seyd of good entente;

And that hir herte trewe was and kinde

Towardes him, and spak right as she mente,

And that she starf for wo neigh, whan she wente,

And was in purpos ever to be trewe;

Thus writen they that of hir werkes knewe.

204. This Troilus, with herte and eres spradde,

Herde al this thing devysen to and fro;

And verraylich him semed that he hadde

The selve wit; but yet to lete hir go

His herte misforyaf him ever-mo.

But fynally, he gan his herte wreste

To trusten hir, and took it for the beste.

205. For which the grete furie of his penaunce

Was queynt with hope, and ther-with hem bitwene

Bigan for Ioye the amorouse daunce.

And as the briddes, whan the sonne is shene,

Delyten in hir song in leves grene,

Right so the wordes that they spake y-fere

Delyted hem, and made hir hertes clere.

206. But natheles, the wending of Criseyde,

For al this world, may nought out of his minde;

For which ful ofte he pitously hir preyde,

That of hir heste he might hir trewe finde.

And seyde hir, 'certes, if ye be unkinde,

And but ye come at day set in-to Troye,

Ne shal I never have hele, honour, ne Ioye.

207. For al-so sooth as sonne up-rist on morwe,

And, god! so wisly thou me, woful wrecche,

To reste bringe out of this cruel sorwe,

I wol my-selven slee if that ye drecche.

But of my deeth though litel be to recche,

Yet, er that ye me cause so to smerte,

Dwel rather here, myn owene swete herte!

208. For trewely, myn owene lady dere,

Tho sleightes yet that I have herd yow stere

Ful shaply been to failen alle y-fere.

For thus men seyn, "that oon thenketh the bere,

But al another thenketh his ledere."

Your sire is wys, and seyd is, out of drede,

"Men may the wyse at-renne, and not at-rede."

209. It is ful hard to halten unespyed

Bifore a crepul, for he can the craft;

Your fader is in sleighte as Argus yëd;

For al be that his moeble is him biraft,

His olde sleighte is yet so with him laft,

Ye shal not blende him for your womanhede,

Ne feyne a-right, and that is al my drede.

210. I noot if pees shal ever-mo bityde;

But, pees or no, for ernest ne for game,

I woot, sin Calkas on the Grekes syde

Hath ones been, and lost so foule his name,

He dar no more come here ayein for shame;

For which that weye, for ought I can espye,

To trusten on, nis but a fantasye.

211. Ye shal eek seen, your fader shal yow glose

To been a wyf, and as he can wel preche,

He shal som Grek so preyse and wel alose,

That ravisshen he shal yow with his speche,

Or do yow doon by force as he shal teche.

And Troilus, of whom ye nil han routhe,

Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe!

212. And over al this, your fader shal despyse

Us alle, and seyn this citee nis but lorn;

And that thassege never shal aryse,

For-why the Grekes han it alle sworn

Til we be slayn, and doun our walles torn.

And thus he shal you with his wordes fere,

That ay drede I, that ye wol bleve there.

213. Ye shul eek seen so many a lusty knight

A-mong the Grekes, ful of worthinesse,

And eche of hem with herte, wit, and might

To plesen yow don al his besinesse,

That ye shul dullen of the rudenesse

Of us sely Troianes, but-if routhe

Remorde yow, or vertue of your trouthe.

214. And this to me so grevous is to thinke,

That fro my brest it wol my soule rende;

Ne dredeles, in me ther may not sinke

A good opinioun, if that ye wende;

For-why your faderes sleighte wol us shende.

And if ye goon, as I have told yow yore,

So thenk I nam but deed, with-oute more.

215. For which, with humble, trewe, and pitous herte,

A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye;

So reweth on myn aspre peynes smerte,

And doth somwhat, as that I shal yow seye,

And lat us stele away bitwixe us tweye;

And thenk that folye is, whan man may chese,

For accident his substaunce ay to lese.

216. I mene this, that sin we mowe er day

Wel stele away, and been to-gider so,

What wit were it to putten in assay,

In cas ye sholden to your fader go,

If that ye mighte come ayein or no?

Thus mene I, that it were a gret folye

To putte that sikernesse in Iupartye.

217. And vulgarly to speken of substaunce

Of tresour, may we bothe with us lede

Y-nough to live in honour and plesaunce,

Til in-to tyme that we shul ben dede;

And thus we may eschewen al this drede.

For everich other wey ye can recorde,

Myn herte, y-wis, may not ther-with acorde.

218. And hardily, ne dredeth no poverte,

For I have kin and freendes elles-where

That, though we comen in our bare sherte,

Us sholde neither lakke gold ne gere,

But been honoured whyl we dwelten there.

And go we anoon, for, as in myn entente,

This is the beste, if that ye wole assente.'

219. Criseyde, with a syk, right in this wyse

Answerde, 'y-wis, my dere herte trewe,

We may wel stele away, as ye devyse,

And finde swiche unthrifty weyes newe;

But afterward, ful sore it wol us rewe.

And help me god so at my moste nede

As causeles ye suffren al this drede!

220. For thilke day that I for cherisshinge

Or drede of fader, or of other wight,

Or for estat, delyt, or for weddinge

Be fals to yow, my Troilus, my knight,

Saturnes doughter, Iuno, thorugh hir might,

As wood as Athamante do me dwelle

Eternaly in Stix, the put of helle!

221. And this on every god celestial

I swere it yow, and eek on eche goddesse,

On every Nymphe and deite infernal,

On Satiry and Fauny more and lesse,

That halve goddes been of wildernesse;

And Attropos my threed of lyf to-breste

If I be fals; now trowe me if thow leste!

222. And thou, Simoys, that as an arwe clere

Thorugh Troye rennest ay downward to the see,

Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here,

That thilke day that ich untrewe be

To Troilus, myn owene herte free,

That thou retorne bakwarde to thy welle,

And I with body and soule sinke in helle!

223. But that ye speke, awey thus for to go

And leten alle your freendes, god for-bede,

For any womman, that ye sholden so,

And namely, sin Troye hath now swich nede

Of help; and eek of o thing taketh hede,

If this were wist, my lif laye in balaunce,

And your honour; god shilde us fro mischaunce!

224. And if so be that pees her-after take,

As alday happeth, after anger, game,

Why, lord! the sorwe and wo ye wolden make,

That ye ne dorste come ayein for shame!

And er that ye Iuparten so your name,

Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare;

For hasty man ne wanteth never care.

225. What trowe ye the peple eek al aboute

Wolde of it seye? It is ful light to arede.

They wolden seye, and swere it, out of doute,

That love ne droof yow nought to doon this dede,

But lust voluptuous and coward drede.

Thus were al lost, y-wis, myn herte dere,

Your honour, which that now shyneth so clere.

226. And also thenketh on myn honestee,

That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,

And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,

If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.

Ne though I livede un-to the worldes ende,

My name sholde I never ayeinward winne;

Thus were I lost, and that were routhe and sinne.

227. And for-thy slee with reson al this hete;

Men seyn, "the suffraunt overcometh," pardee;

Eek "who-so wol han leef, he leef mot lete;"

Thus maketh vertue of necessitee

By pacience, and thenk that lord is he

Of fortune ay, that nought wol of hir recche;

And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche.

228. And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete,

Er Phebus suster, Lucina the shene,

The Leoun passe out of this Ariete,

I wol ben here, with-outen any wene.

I mene, as helpe me Iuno, hevenes quene,

The tenthe day, but-if that deeth me assayle,

I wol yow seen, with-outen any fayle.'

229. 'And now, so this be sooth,' quod Troilus,

'I shal wel suffre un-to the tenthe day,

Sin that I see that nede it moot be thus.

But, for the love of god, if it be may,

So lat us stele prively away;

For ever in oon, as for to live in reste,

Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste.'

230. 'O mercy, god, what lyf is this?' quod she;

'Allas, ye slee me thus for verray tene!

I see wel now that ye mistrusten me;

For by your wordes it is wel y-sene.

Now, for the love of Cynthia the shene,

Mistrust me not thus causeles, for routhe;

Sin to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe.

231. And thenketh wel, that som tyme it is wit

To spende a tyme, a tyme for to winne;

Ne, pardee, lorn am I nought fro yow yit,

Though that we been a day or two a-twinne.

Dryf out the fantasyes yow with-inne;

And trusteth me, and leveth eek your sorwe,

Or here my trouthe, I wol not live til morwe.

232. For if ye wiste how sore it doth me smerte,

Ye wolde cesse of this; for god, thou wost,

The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte,

To see yow wepen that I love most,

And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost.

Ye, nere it that I wiste remedye

To come ayein, right here I wolde dye!

233. But certes, I am not so nyce a wight

That I ne can imaginen a way

To come ayein that day that I have hight.

For who may holde thing that wol a-way?

My fader nought, for al his queynte pley.

And by my thrift, my wending out of Troye

Another day shal torne us alle to Ioye.

234. For-thy, with al myn herte I yow beseke,

If that yow list don ought for my preyere,

And for the love which that I love yow eke,

That er that I departe fro yow here,

That of so good a comfort and a chere

I may you seen, that ye may bringe at reste

Myn herte, which that is at point to breste.

235. And over al this, I pray yow,' quod she tho,

'Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce,

Sin I am thyn al hool, with-outen mo,

That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunce

Of othere do me fro your remembraunce.

For I am ever a-gast, for-why men rede,

That "love is thing ay ful of bisy drede."

236. For in this world ther liveth lady noon,

If that ye were untrewe, as god defende!

That so bitraysed were or wo bigoon

As I, that alle trouthe in yow entende.

And douteles, if that ich other wende,

I nere but deed; and er ye cause finde,

For goddes love, so beth me not unkinde.'

237. To this answerde Troilus and seyde,

'Now god, to whom ther nis no cause y-wrye,

Me glade, as wis I never un-to Criseyde,

Sin thilke day I saw hir first with yë,

Was fals, ne never shal til that I dye.

At shorte wordes, wel ye may me leve;

I can no more, it shal be founde at preve.'

238. 'Graunt mercy, goode myn, y-wis,' quod she,

'And blisful Venus lat me never sterve

Er I may stonde of plesaunce in degree

To quyte him wel, that so wel can deserve;

And whyl that god my wit wol me conserve,

I shal so doon, so trewe I have yow founde,

That ay honour to me-ward shal rebounde.

239. For trusteth wel, that your estat royal

Ne veyn delyt, nor only worthinesse

Of yow in werre, or torney marcial,

Ne pompe, array, nobley, or eek richesse,

Ne made me to rewe on your distresse;

But moral vertue, grounded upon trouthe,

That was the cause I first hadde on yow routhe!

240. Eek gentil herte and manhod that ye hadde,

And that ye hadde, as me thoughte, in despyt

Every thing that souned in-to badde,

As rudenesse and poeplish appetyt;

And that your reson brydled your delyt,

This made, aboven every creature,

That I was your, and shal, whyl I may dure.

241. And this may lengthe of yeres not for-do,

Ne remuable fortune deface;

But Iuppiter, that of his might may do

The sorwful to be glad, so yeve us grace,

Er nightes ten, to meten in this place,

So that it may your herte and myn suffyse;

And fareth now wel, for tyme is that ye ryse.'

242. And after that they longe y-pleyned hadde,

And ofte y-kist and streite in armes folde,

The day gan ryse, and Troilus him cladde,

And rewfulliche his lady gan biholde,

As he that felte dethes cares colde.

And to hir grace he gan him recomaunde;

Wher him was wo, this holde I no demaunde.

243. For mannes heed imaginen ne can,

Ne entendement considere, ne tonge telle

The cruel peynes of this sorwful man,

That passen every torment doun in helle.

For whan he saugh that she ne mighte dwelle,

Which that his soule out of his herte rente,

With-outen more, out of the chaumbre he wente.