Geoffrey Chaucer

“ For thee have I my nece, of vyces clene, So fully maad thy gentilesse triste, That al shal been right as thy-selve liste. 260 `But god, that al wot, take I to witnesse, That never I this for coveityse wroughte, But only for to abregge that distresse, For which wel nygh thou deydest, as me thoughte. But, gode brother, do now as thee oughte, 265 For goddes love, and kep hir out of blame, Sin thou art wys, and save alwey hir name. `For wel thou wost, the name as yet of here Among the peple, as who seyth, halwed is; For that man is unbore, I dar wel swere, 270 That ever wiste that she dide amis. ”

“ Why niltow over us hove, As longe as whanne Almena lay by Iove? `O blake night, as folk in bokes rede, 1430 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, 1435 That thou thus fleest, and deynest us nought reste! `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. ”

“ Whan every wight was voided but they two, And alle the dores were faste y-shette, To telle in short, with-oute wordes mo, 235 This Pandarus, with-outen any lette, Up roos, and on his beddes syde him sette, And gan to speken in a sobre wyse To Troilus, as I shal yow devyse: `Myn alderlevest lord, and brother dere, 240 God woot, and thou, that it sat me so sore, When I thee saw so languisshing to-yere, For love, of which thy wo wex alwey more ”

“ In chaunged vois, right for his verray drede, Which vois eek quook, and ther-to his manere Goodly abayst, and now his hewes rede, 95 Now pale, un-to Criseyde, his lady dere, With look doun cast and humble yolden chere, Lo, the alderfirste word that him asterte Was, twyes, `Mercy, mercy, swete herte!' And stinte a whyl, and whan he mighte out-bringe, 100 The nexte word was, `God wot, for I have, As feyfully as I have had konninge, Ben youres, also god so my sowle save; And shal til that I, woful wight, be grave. ”

“ Thus sondry peynes bringen folk in hevene. 1205 This Troilus in armes gan hir streyne, And seyde, `O swete, as ever mote I goon, Now be ye caught, now is ther but we tweyne; Now yeldeth yow, for other boot is noon.' To that Criseyde answerde thus anoon, 1210 `Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte dere, Ben yolde, y-wis, I were now not here!' O! Sooth is seyd, that heled for to be As of a fevre or othere greet syknesse, Men moste drinke, as men may often see, 1215 Ful bittre drink; and for to han gladnesse, Men drinken often peyne and greet distresse ”

“ The sterne wind so loude gan to route That no wight other noyse mighte here; 745 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. 750 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, 755 `No word, for love of god I yow biseche; Lat no wight ryse and heren of oure speche.' `What! ”

“ Criseyde, that was Troilus lady right, And cleer stood on a ground of sikernesse, Al thoughte she, hir servaunt and hir knight Ne sholde of right non untrouthe in hir gesse, 985 Yet nathelees, considered his distresse, And that love is in cause of swich folye, Thus to him spak she of his Ialousye: `Lo, herte myn, as wolde the excellence Of love, ayeins the which that no man may, 990 Ne oughte eek goodly maken resistence And eek bycause I felte wel and say Youre grete trouthe, and servyse every day ”

“ It nedeth not this matere ofte tere; For wistestow myn herte wel, Pandare, 1645 God woot, of this thou woldest litel care.' 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, 1650 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. ”

“ Right so Criseyde, whan hir drede stente, Opned hir herte and tolde him hir entente. 1240 And right as he that seeth his deeth y-shapen, And deye moot, in ought that he may gesse, And sodeynly rescous doth him escapen, And from his deeth is brought in sikernesse, For al this world, in swich present gladnesse 1245 Was Troilus, and hath his lady swete; With worse hap god lat us never mete! Hir armes smale, hir streyghte bak and softe, Hir sydes longe, fleshly, smothe, and whyte He gan to stroke, and good thrift bad ful ofte 1250 Hir snowish throte, hir brestes rounde and lyte ”

“ Of kinde non avauntour is to leve. `Avauntour and a lyere, al is on; 310 As thus: I pose, a womman graunte me Hir love, and seyth that other wol she non, And I am sworn to holden it secree, And after I go telle it two or three; Y-wis, I am avauntour at the leste, 315 And lyere, for I breke my biheste. `Now loke thanne, if they be nought to blame, Swich maner folk; what shal I clepe hem, what, That hem avaunte of wommen, and by name, That never yet bihighte hem this ne that, 320 Ne knewe hem more than myn olde hat? No wonder is, so god me sende hele, Though wommen drede with us men to dele. ”

“ For many a lovere hastow shent, and wilt; 1460 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.' And eek the sonne Tytan gan he chyde, 1465 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! Holde your bed ther, thou, and eek thy Morwe! ”

“ Thus in this hevene he gan him to delyte, And ther-with-al a thousand tyme hir kiste; That, what to done, for Ioye unnethe he wiste. Than seyde he thus, `O, Love, O, Charitee, 1255 Thy moder eek, Citherea the swete, After thy-self next heried be she, Venus mene I, the wel-willy planete; And next that, Imeneus, I thee grete; For never man was to yow goddes holde 1260 As I, which ye han brought fro cares colde. `Benigne Love, thou holy bond of thinges, Who-so wol grace, and list thee nought honouren, Lo, his desyr wol flee with-outen winges. ”

“ That maketh it so sone day to be; And, for the sonne him hasteth thus to ryse, Ne shal I never doon him sacrifyse!' But nedes day departe moste hem sone, 1710 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 1715 Criseyde, and eek this kinges sone of Troye. In suffisaunce, in blisse, and in singinges, This Troilus gan al his lyf to lede ”

“ And this, in alle the temples of this toun Upon the goddes alle, I wol thee swere, 385 To-morwe day, if that thee lyketh here. `And that thou hast so muche y-doon for me, That I ne may it never-more deserve, This knowe I wel, al mighte I now for thee A thousand tymes on a morwen sterve. 390 I can no more, but that I wol thee serve Right as thy sclave, whider-so thou wende, For ever-more, un-to my lyves ende! `But here, with al myn herte, I thee biseche, That never in me thou deme swich folye 395 As I shal seyn ”

“ What, platly, and ye suffre him in distresse, Ye neither bountee doon ne gentilesse!' Quod tho Criseyde, `Wole ye doon o thing, And ye therwith shal stinte al his disese? 885 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.' 890 `A ring?' quod he, `Ye, hasel-wodes shaken! Ye nece myn, that ring moste han a stoon That mighte dede men alyve maken ”

“ That is to seye, that thou us never wreye; 285 And be nought wrooth, though I thee ofte preye To holden secree swich an heigh matere; For skilful is, thow wost wel, my preyere. `And thenk what wo ther hath bitid er this, For makinge of avantes, as men rede; 290 And what mischaunce in this world yet ther is, Fro day to day, right for that wikked dede; For which these wyse clerkes that ben dede Han ever yet proverbed to us yonge, That "Firste vertu is to kepe tonge." ”

“ What man,' quod he, `was ever thus at ese 1280 As I, on whiche the faireste and the beste That ever I say, deyneth hir herte reste. `Here may men seen that mercy passeth right; The experience of that is felt in me, That am unworthy to so swete a wight. 1285 But herte myn, of your benignitee, So thenketh, though that I unworthy be, Yet mot I nede amenden in som wyse, Right thourgh the vertu of your heyghe servyse. ”

“ For ther-with mene I fynally the peyne, That halt your herte and myn in hevinesse, Fully to sleen, and every wrong redresse. `My goode, myn, not I for-why ne how 1010 That Ialousye, allas! That wikked wivere, Thus causelees is cropen in-to yow; The harm of which I wolde fayn delivere! Allas! That he, al hool, or of him slivere, Shuld have his refut in so digne a place, 1015 Ther Iove him sone out of your herte arace! `But O, thou Iove, O auctor of nature, Is this an honour to thy deitee, That folk ungiltif suffren here iniure, And who that giltif is, al quit goth he? ”

“ The smale bestes leet he gon bi-syde. And whan that he com rydinge in-to toun, Ful ofte his lady, from hir window doun, As fresh as faucon comen out of muwe, 1785 Ful redy was, him goodly to saluwe. And most of love and vertu was his speche, And in despyt hadde alle wrecchednesse; And doutelees, no nede was him biseche To honouren hem that hadde worthinesse, 1790 And esen hem that weren in distresse. And glad was he if any wight wel ferde, That lover was, whan he it wiste or herde. ”

“ For rather than men mighte him ther aspye, Me were lever a thousand-fold to dye.' 575 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-outen awayt, with him to go, 580 She graunted him, sith he hir that bisoughte And, as his nece, obeyed as hir oughte. 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, 585 That dremen thinges whiche that never were, And wel avyse him whom he broughte there ”

“ And with hir goodly wordes him disporte She gan, and ofte his sorwes to comforte. 1135 Quod Pandarus, `For ought I can espyen, This light, nor I ne serven here of nought; Light is not good for syke folkes yen. But for the love of god, sin ye be brought In thus good plyt, lat now non hevy thought 1140 Ben hanginge in the hertes of yow tweye:' And bar the candele to the chimeneye. Sone after this, though it no nede were, Whan she swich othes as hir list devyse Hadde of him take, hir thoughte tho no fere, 1145 Ne cause eek non, to bidde him thennes ryse. ”

“ And estward roos, to him that coude it knowe, 1420 Fortuna maior, than anoon Criseyde, With herte sore, to Troilus thus seyde: -- `Myn hertes lyf, my trist and my plesaunce, That I was born, allas! What me is wo, That day of us mot make desseveraunce! 1425 For tyme it is to ryse, and hennes go, Or elles I am lost for evermo! O night, allas! ”

“ And Pandarus, to quike alwey the fyr, 485 Was evere 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, 490 Ne bar him bet than he, with-outen drede. 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; 495 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. ”

“ But wel finde I she dide him this plesaunce, That she him kiste, al-though she syked sore; And bad him sitte a-doun with-outen more. Quod Pandarus, `Now wol ye wel biginne; 975 Now doth him sitte, gode nece dere, Upon your beddes syde al there with-inne, That ech of yow the bet may other here.' And with that word he drow him to the fere, And took a light, and fond his contenaunce, 980 As for to loke up-on an old romaunce. ”