Walter William Skeat

“ Hir wo for love is of another wight,
And here-up-on to goon assaye hir now?
I may wel wite, it nil not been my prow.
For wyse folk in bokes it expresse, 790
"Men shal not wowe a wight in hevinesse."
114. But who-so mighte winnen swich a flour
From him, for whom she morneth night and day,
He mighte seyn, he were a conquerour.'
And right anoon, as he that bold was ay, 795
Thoughte in his herte, 'happe, how happe may,
Al sholde I deye, I wole hir herte seche;
I shal no more lesen but my speche.'
115. ”

“ And wondreth not, myn owene lady bright,
Though that I speke of love to you thus blyve;
For I have herd or this of many a wight,
Hath loved thing he never saugh his lyve. 165
Eek I am not of power for to stryve
Ayens the god of love, but him obeye
I wol alwey, and mercy I yow preye.
25. Ther been so worthy knightes in this place,
And ye so fair, that everich of hem alle 170
Wol peynen him to stonden in your grace.
But mighte me so fair a grace falle,
That ye me for your servaunt wolde calle,
So lowly ne so trewely you serve
Nil noon of hem, as I shal, til I sterve.' 175
26. ”

“ My lady first me took un-to hir grace.'
84. Thanne thoughte he thus, 'O blisful lord Cupyde,
Whanne I the proces have in my memorie,
How thou me hast werreyed on every syde,
Men mighte a book make of it, lyk a storie. 585
What nede is thee to seke on me victorie,
Sin I am thyn, and hoolly at thy wille?
What Ioye hastow thyn owene folk to spille? ”

“ This knowen folk that han y-suffred peyne, 415
That though he wepe and make sorwful chere,
That feleth harm and smert in every veyne,
No wonder is; and though I ever pleyne,
Or alwey wepe, I am no-thing to blame,
Sin I have lost the cause of al my game. 420
61. But sin of fyne force. I moot aryse,
I shal aryse, as sone as ever I may;
And god, to whom myn herte I sacrifyse,
So sende us hastely the tenthe day!
For was ther never fowl so fayn of May, 425
As I shal been, whan that she cometh in Troye,
That cause is of my torment and my Ioye. ”

“ That hir hadde herd compleynen in hir sorwe,
That nolde han wopen for hir peynes smerte,
So tendrely she weep, bothe eve and morwe. 725
Hir nedede no teres for to borwe.
And this was yet the worste of al hir peyne,
Ther was no wight to whom she dorste hir pleyne.
105. Ful rewfully she loked up-on Troye,
Biheld the toures heighe and eek the halles; 730
'Allas!' quod she, 'the plesaunce and the Ioye
The whiche that now al torned in-to galle is,
Have I had ofte with-inne yonder walles!
O Troilus, what dostow now,' she seyde;
'Lord! whether yet thou thenke up-on Criseyde? 735
106. ”

“ This Troilus, with-outen reed or lore,
As man that hath his Ioyes eek forlore,
Was waytinge on his lady ever-more
As she that was the soothfast crop and more 25
Of al his lust, or Ioyes here-tofore.
But Troilus, now farewel al thy Ioye,
For shaltow never seen hir eft in Troye!
5. Soth is, that whyl he bood in this manere,
He gan his wo ful manly for to hyde, 30
That wel unnethe it seen was in his chere;
But at the yate ther she sholde oute ryde
With certeyn folk, he hoved hir tabyde,
So wo bigoon, al wolde he nought him pleyne,
That on his hors unnethe he sat for peyne. 35
6. ”

“ Thus Pandarus, with alle peyne and wo,
Made him to dwelle; and at the woukes ende,
Of Sarpedoun they toke hir leve tho, 500
And on hir wey they spedden hem to wende.
Quod Troilus, 'now god me grace sende,
That I may finden, at myn hom-cominge,
Criseyde comen!' and ther-with gan he singe.
73. 'Ye, hasel-wode!' thoughte this Pandare, 505
And to him-self ful softely he seyde,
'God woot, refreyden may this hote fare
Er Calkas sende Troilus Criseyde!'
But natheles, he Iaped thus, and seyde,
And swor, y-wis, his herte him wel bihighte, 510
She wolde come as sone as ever she mighte. ”

“ To slee me thus; allas, your name of trouthe
Is now for-doon, and that is al my routhe.
242. Was ther non other broche yow liste lete
To feffe with your newe love,' quod he,
'But thilke broche that I, with teres wete, 1690
Yow yaf, as for a remembraunce of me?
Non other cause, allas, ne hadde ye
But for despyt, and eek for that ye mente
Al-outrely to shewen your entente!
243. Through which I see that clene out of your minde 1695
Ye han me cast, and I ne can nor may,
For al this world, with-in myn herte finde
To unloven yow a quarter of a day! ”

“ Have here my trouthe, I see hir! yond she is.
Heve up thyn eyen, man! maystow not see?'
Pandare answerde, 'nay, so mote I thee! 1160
Al wrong, by god; what seystow, man, wher art?
That I see yond nis but a fare-cart.'
167.. 'Allas, thou seist right sooth,' quod Troilus;
'But hardely, it is not al for nought
That in myn herte I now reioyse thus. 1165
It is ayein som good I have a thought.
Noot I not how, but sin that I was wrought,
Ne felte I swich a confort, dar I seye;
She comth to-night, my lyf, that dorste I leye!'
168. ”

“ Now mighty god, thou on my sorwe rewe!'
102. Ful pale y-waxen was hir brighte face,
Hir limes lene, as she that al the day
Stood whan she dorste, and loked on the place 710
Ther she was born, and ther she dwelt hadde ay.
And al the night wepinge, allas! she lay.
And thus despeired, out of alle cure,
She ladde hir lyf, this woful creature.
103. Ful ofte a day she sighte eek for destresse, 715
And in hir-self she wente ay portrayinge
Of Troilus the grete worthinesse,
And alle his goodly wordes recordinge
Sin first that day hir love bigan to springe. ”

“ God wot I wende, O lady bright, Criseyde,
That every word was gospel that ye seyde! 1265
But who may bet bigylen, if him liste,
Than he on whom men weneth best to triste?
182. What shal I doon, my Pandarus, allas!
I fele now so sharpe a newe peyne,
Sin that ther is no remedie in this cas, 1270
That bet were it I with myn hondes tweyne
My-selven slow, than alwey thus to pleyne.
For through my deeth my wo sholde han an ende,
Ther every day with lyf my-self I shende.'
183. ”

“ Goth now, with-inne him-self ay arguinge
With al the sleighte and al that ever he can,
How he may best, with shortest taryinge,
In-to his net Criseydes herte bringe. 775
To this entente he coude never fyne;
To fisshen hir, he leyde out hook and lyne.
112. But natheles, wel in his herte he thoughte,
That she nas nat with-oute a love in Troye.
For never, sithen he hir thennes broughte, 780
Ne coude he seen her laughe or make Ioye.
He niste how best hir herte for tacoye.
'But for to assaye,' he seyde, 'it nought ne greveth;
For he that nought nassayeth, nought nacheveth.'
113. ”

“ I dar not, ther I am, wel lettres make,
Ne never yet ne coude I wel endyte.
Eek greet effect men wryte in place lyte.
Thentente is al, and nought the lettres space; 1630
And fareth now wel, god have you in his grace!
⁠La vostre C.'
234. This Troilus this lettre thoughte al straunge,
Whan he it saugh, and sorwefully he sighte;
Him thoughte it lyk a kalendes of chaunge;
But fynally, he ful ne trowen mighte 1635
That she ne wolde him holden that she highte;
For with ful yvel wil list him to leve
That loveth wel, in swich cas, though him greve. ”

“ His wo, his pleynte, his langour, and his pyne?
Nought al the men that han or been on-lyve.
Thou, redere, mayst thy-self ful wel devyne 270
That swich a wo my wit can not defyne.
On ydel for to wryte it sholde I swinke,
Whan that my wit is wery it to thinke.
40. On hevene yet the sterres were sene,
Al-though ful pale y-waxen was the mone; 275
And whyten gan the orisonte shene
Al estward, as it woned is to done.
And Phebus with his rosy carte sone
Gan after that to dresse him up to fare,
Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare. 280
41. ”

“ In swich a craft, and by the reyne hir hente; 90
And Troilus to Troye homwarde he wente.
14. This Diomede, that ladde hir by the brydel,
Whan that he saw the folk of Troye aweye,
Thoughte, 'al my labour shal not been on ydel,
If that I may, for somwhat shal I seye. 95
For at the worste it may yet shorte our weye.
I have herd seyd, eek tymes twyës twelve,
"He is a fool that wol for-yete him-selve."'
15. ”

“ Nor in this world ther is non instrument
Delicious, through wind, or touche, or corde,
As fer as any wight hath ever y-went,
That tonge telle or herte may recorde, 445
That at that feste it nas wel herd acorde;
Ne of ladies eek so fayr a companye
On daunce, er tho, was never y-seyn with yë.
65. But what avayleth this to Troilus,
That for his sorwe no-thing of it roughte? 450
For ever in oon his herte piëtous
Ful bisily Criseyde his lady soughte.
On hir was ever al that his herte thoughte.
Now this, now that, so faste imagininge,
That glade, y-wis, can him no festeyinge. 455
66. ”

“ Bigan to love hir first, for whom his sorwe
Was al, that she departe sholde a-morwe.
3. Ful redy was at pryme Dyomede, 15
Criseyde un-to the Grekes ost to lede,
For sorwe of which she felte hir herte blede,
As she that niste what was best to rede.
And trewely, as men in bokes rede,
Men wiste never womman han the care, 20
Ne was so looth out of a toun to fare. ”

“ If she be let, she wol assigne a cause.
187. Thou hast not writen hir sin that she wente,
Nor she to thee, and this I dorste leye,
Ther may swich cause been in hir entente, 1305
That hardely thou wolt thy-selven seye,
That hir a-bood the beste is for yow tweye.
Now wryte hir thanne, and thou shalt fele sone
A sothe of al; ther is no more to done.'
188. ”

“ But natheles, men seyn that, at the laste,
For any thing, men shal the sothe see; 1640
And swich a cas bitidde, and that as faste,
That Troilus wel understood that she
Nas not so kinde as that hir oughte be.
And fynally, he woot now, out of doute,
That al is lost that he hath been aboute. 1645
236. Stood on a day in his malencolye
This Troilus, and in suspecioun
Of hir for whom he wende for to dye.
And so bifel, that through-out Troye toun,
As was the gyse, y-bore was up and doun 1650
A maner cote-armure, as seyth the storie,
Biforn Deiphebe, in signe of his victorie,
237. ”

“ And ther-with-al, his meyne for to blende,
A cause he fond in toune for to go,
And to Criseydes hous they gonnen wende.
But lord! this sely Troilus was wo!
Him thoughte his sorweful herte braste a-two. 530
For whan he saugh hir dores sperred alle,
Wel neigh for sorwe a-doun he gan to falle.
77. Therwith whan he was war and gan biholde
How shet was every windowe of the place,
As frost, him thoughte, his herte gan to colde; 535
For which with chaunged deedlich pale face,
With-outen word, he forth bigan to pace ”

“ A man mot twinnen of necessitee,
Ye, though he love hir as his owene lyf; 340
Yet nil he with him-self thus maken stryf.
For wel thow wost, my leve brother dere,
That alwey freendes may nought been y-fere.
50. How doon this folk that seen hir loves wedded
By freendes might, as it bi-tit ful ofte, 345
And seen hem in hir spouses bed y-bedded?
God woot, they take it wysly, faire and softe.
For-why good hope halt up hir herte on-lofte,
And for they can a tyme of sorwe endure;
As tyme hem hurt, a tyme doth hem cure. 350
51. ”

“ That I was born; have I not seyd er this,
That dremes many a maner man bigyle?
And why? for folk expounden hem a-mis.
How darstow seyn that fals thy lady is,
For any dreem, right for thyn owene drede? 1280
Lat be this thought, thou canst no dremes rede.
184. Paraunter, ther thou dremest of this boor,
It may so be that it may signifye
Hir fader, which that old is and eek hoor,
Ayein the sonne lyth, on poynt to dye, 1285
And she for sorwe ginneth wepe and crye,
And kisseth him, ther he lyth on the grounde;
Thus shuldestow thy dreem a-right expounde.'
185. ”

“ Peyneth hir on ladyes for to lye?
Awey,' quod he, 'ther Ioves yeve thee sorwe! 1525
Thou shalt be fals, paraunter, yet to-morwe!
219. As wel thou mightest lyen on Alceste,
That was of creatures, but men lye,
That ever weren, kindest and the beste.
For whanne hir housbonde was in Iupartye 1530
To dye him-self, but-if she wolde dye,
She chees for him to dye and go to helle,
And starf anoon, as us the bokes telle.'
220. ”

“ For thennes shal not oon on-lyve come 885
For al the gold bitwixen sonne and see.
Trusteth wel, and understondeth me,
Ther shal not oon to mercy goon on-lyve,
Al were he lord of worldes twyës fyve!
128. Swich wreche on hem, for fecching of Eleyne, 890
Ther shal be take, er that we hennes wende,
That Manes, which that goddes ben of peyne,
Shal been agast that Grekes wol hem shende.
And men shul drede, un-to the worldes ende,
From hennes-forth to ravisshe any quene, 895
So cruel shal our wreche on hem be sene. ”