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Troilus and Criseyde

Geoffrey Chaucer

`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; 1480 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? `But nathelees, myn owene lady bright, 1485 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, 1490 Yet sholde I bet enduren al my peyne.' 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, 1495 And every egle been the dowves fere, And every roche out of his place sterte, Er Troilus out of Criseydes herte! `Ye he so depe in-with myn herte grave, That, though I wolde it turne out of my thought, 1500 As wisly verray god my soule save, To dyen in the peyne, I coude nought! And, for the love of god that us bath wrought, Lat in your brayn non other fantasye So crepe, that it cause me to dye! 1505 `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, 1510 Beth to me trewe, or elles were it routhe; For I am thyn, by god and by my trouthe! `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 1515 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. Agayns his wil, sin it mot nedes be, 1520 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, mr dere herte swete, 1525 Ther god us graunte sounde and sone to mete!' 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; 1530 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. Retorned to his real palais, sone He softe in-to his bed gan for to slinke, 1535 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. 1540 And in his thought gan up and doun to winde Hir wordes alle, and every countenaunce, And fermely impressen in his minde The leste poynt that to him was plesaunce; And verrayliche, of thilke remembraunce, 1545 Desyr al newe him brende, and lust to brede Gan more than erst, and yet took he non hede. Criseyde also, right in the same wyse, Of Troilus gan in hir herte shette His worthinesse, his lust, his dedes wyse, 1550 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. Pandare, a-morwe which that comen was 1555 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, 1560 That som of us, I trowe, hir hedes ake.' 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 youre herte care! 1565 God help 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!' With that she gan hir face for to wrye With the shete, and wex for shame al reed; 1570 And Pandarus gan under for to prye, And seyde, `Nece, if that I shal be 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. 1575 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, 1580 Whan tyme was, hom til hir hous she wente, And Pandarus hath fully his entente. Now torne we ayein to Troilus, That resteles ful longe a-bedde lay, And prevely sente after Pandarus, 1585 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. This Troilus, with al the affeccioun 1590 Of frendes love that herte may devyse, To Pandarus on knees fil adoun, And er that he wolde of the place aryse, He gan him thonken in his beste wyse; An hondred sythe he gan the tyme blesse, 1595 That he was born, to bringe him fro distresse. 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 Flegitoun, the fery flood of helle; 1600 That, though I mighte a thousand tymes selle, Upon a day, my lyf in thy servyse, It mighte nought a mote in that suffyse. `The sonne, which that al the world may see, Saw never yet, my lyf, that dar I leye, 1605 So inly fayr 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. 1610 `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, 1615 And Pandarus ful sobrely him herde Til al was seyd, and than he thus answerde: `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, 1620 God help me so; but tak now 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. `For of fortunes sharpe adversitee 1625 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. 1631 `Thou art at ese, and holde the 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, 1635 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.' Quod Troilus, `I hope, and god to-forn, My dere frend, that I shal so me bere, 1640 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.' 1645 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; 1650 And ay the more that desyr me byteth To love hir best, the more it me delyteth. `I noot my-self not wisly what it is; But now I fele a newe qualitee, Ye, al another than I dide er this.' 1655 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. This is o word for al: this Troilus 1660 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, 1665 Til that the night departed hem a-twinne. 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; 1670 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. And holden was the forme and al the wyse, Of hir cominge, and eek of his also, 1675