Troilus and Criseyde

by Geoffrey Chaucer

Ne for no wys man, but for foles nyce,

  325 And for the harm that in the world is now,

  As wel for foly ofte as for malyce;

  For wel wot I, in wyse folk, that vyce

  No womman drat, if she be wel avysed;

  For wyse ben by foles harm chastysed.

  330 `But now to purpos; leve brother dere,

  Have al this thing that I have seyd in minde,

  And keep thee clos, and be now of good chere,

  For at thy day thou shalt me trewe finde.

  I shal thy proces sette in swich a kinde,

  335 And god to-forn, that it shall thee suffyse,

  For it shal been right as thou wolt devyse.

  `For wel I woot, thou menest wel, parde;

  Therfore I dar this fully undertake.

  Thou wost eek what thy lady graunted thee,

  340 And day is set, the chartres up to make.

  Have now good night, I may no lenger wake;

  And bid for me, sin thou art now in blisse,

  That god me sende deeth or sone lisse.'

  Who mighte telle half the Ioye or feste

  345 Which that the sowle of Troilus tho felte,

  Heringe theffect of Pandarus biheste?

  His olde wo, that made his herte swelte,

  Gan tho for Ioye wasten and to-melte,

  And al the richesse of his sykes sore

  350 At ones fledde, he felte of hem no more.

  But right so as these holtes and these hayes,

  That han in winter dede been and dreye,

  Revesten hem in grene, whan that May is,

  Whan every lusty lyketh best to pleye;

  355 Right in that selve wyse, sooth to seye,

  Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of Ioye,

  That gladder was ther never man in Troye.

  And gan his look on Pandarus up caste

  Ful sobrely, and frendly for to see,

  360 And seyde, `Freend, in Aprille the laste,

  As wel thou wost, if it remembre thee,

  How neigh the deeth for wo thou founde me;

  And how thou didest al thy bisinesse

  To knowe of me the cause of my distresse.

  365 `Thou wost how longe I it for-bar to seye

  To thee, that art the man that I best triste;

  And peril was it noon to thee by-wreye,

  That wiste I wel; but tel me, if thee liste,

  Sith I so looth was that thy-self it wiste,

  370 How dorst I mo tellen of this matere,

  That quake now, and no wight may us here?

  `But natheles, by that god I thee swere,

  That, as him list, may al this world governe,

  And, if I lye, Achilles with his spere

  375 Myn herte cleve, al were my lyf eterne,

  As I am mortal, if I late or yerne

  Wolde it biwreye, or dorste, or sholde conne,

  For al the good that god made under sonne;

  `That rather deye I wolde, and determyne,

  380 As thinketh me, now stokked in presoun,

  In wrecchednesse, in filthe, and in vermyne,

  Caytif to cruel king Agamenoun;

  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; me thoughte, by thy speche,

  That this, which thou me dost for companye,

  I sholde wene it were a bauderye;

  I am nought wood, al-if I lewed be;

  It is not so, that woot I wel, pardee.

  400 `But he that goth, for gold or for richesse,

  On swich message, calle him what thee list;

  And this that thou dost, calle it gentilesse,

  Compassioun, and felawship, and trist;

  Departe it so, for wyde-where is wist

  405 How that there is dyversitee requered

  Bitwixen thinges lyke, as I have lered.

  `And, that thou knowe I thenke nought ne wene

  That this servyse a shame be or Iape,

  I have my faire suster Polixene,

  410 Cassandre, Eleyne, or any of the frape;

  Be she never so faire or wel y-shape,

  Tel me, which thou wilt of everichone,

  To han for thyn, and lat me thanne allone.

  `But, sith that thou hast don me this servyse

  415 My lyf to save, and for noon hope of mede,

  So, for the love of god, this grete empryse

  Performe it out; for now is moste nede.

  For high and low, with-outen any drede,

  I wol alwey thyne hestes alle kepe;

  420 Have now good night, and lat us bothe slepe.'

  Thus held him ech of other wel apayed,

  That al the world ne mighte it bet amende;

  And, on the morwe, whan they were arayed,

  Ech to his owene nedes gan entende.

  425 But Troilus, though as the fyr he brende

  For sharp desyr of hope and of plesaunce,

  He not for-gat his gode governaunce.

  But in him-self with manhod gan restreyne

  Ech rakel dede and ech unbrydled chere,

  430 That alle tho that liven, sooth to seyne,

  Ne sholde han wist, by word or by manere,

  What that he mente, as touching this matere.

  From every wight as fer as is the cloude

  He was, so wel dissimulen he coude.

  435 And al the whyl which that I yow devyse,

  This was his lyf; with al his fulle might,

  By day he was in Martes high servyse,

  This is to seyn, in armes as a knight;

  And for the more part, the longe night

  440 He lay, and thoughte how that he mighte serve

  His lady best, hir thank for to deserve.

  Nil I nought swere, al-though he lay softe,

  That in his thought he nas sumwhat disesed,

  Ne that he tornede on his pilwes ofte,

  445 And wolde of that him missed han ben sesed;

  But in swich cas men is nought alwey plesed,

  For ought I wot, no more than was he;

  That can I deme of possibilitee.

  But certeyn is, to purpos for to go,

  450 That in this whyle, as writen is in geste,

  He say his lady som-tyme; and also

  She with him spak, whan that she dorste or leste,

  And by hir bothe avys, as was the beste,

  Apoynteden ful warly in this nede,

  455 So as they dorste, how they wolde procede.

  But it was spoken in so short a wyse,

  In swich awayt alwey, and in swich fere,

  Lest any wyght devynen or devyse
<
br />   Wolde of hem two, or to it leye an ere,

  460 That al this world so leef to hem ne were

  As that Cupido wolde hem grace sende

  To maken of hir speche aright an ende.

  But thilke litel that they spake or wroughte,

  His wyse goost took ay of al swich hede,

  465 It semed hir, he wiste what she thoughte

  With-outen word, so that it was no nede

  To bidde him ought to done, or ought for-bede;

  For which she thought that love, al come it late,

  Of alle Ioye hadde opned hir the yate.

  470 And shortly of this proces for to pace,

  So wel his werk and wordes he bisette,

  That he so ful stood in his lady grace,

  That twenty thousand tymes, or she lette,

  She thonked god she ever with him mette;

  475 So coude he him governe in swich servyse,

  That al the world ne might it bet devyse.

  For-why she fond him so discreet in al,

  So secret, and of swich obeisaunce,

  That wel she felte he was to hir a wal

  480 Of steel, and sheld from every displesaunce;

  That, to ben in his gode governaunce,

  So wys he was, she was no more afered,

  I mene, as fer as oughte ben requered.

  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.

  For sothe, I have not herd it doon er this,

  In storye noon, ne no man here, I wene;

  500 And though I wolde I coude not, y-wis;

  For ther was som epistel hem bitwene,

  That wolde, as seyth myn auctor, wel contene

  Neigh half this book, of which him list not wryte;

  How sholde I thanne a lyne of it endyte?

  505 But to the grete effect: than sey I thus,

  That stonding in concord and in quiete,

  Thise ilke two, Criseyde and Troilus,

  As I have told, and in this tyme swete,

  Save only often mighte they not mete,

  510 Ne layser have hir speches to fulfelle,

  That it befel right as I shal yow telle.

  That Pandarus, that ever dide his might

  Right for the fyn that I shal speke of here,

  As for to bringe to his hous som night

  515 His faire nece, and Troilus y-fere,

  Wher-as at leyser al this heigh matere,

  Touching hir love, were at the fulle up-bounde,

  Hadde out of doute a tyme to it founde.

  For he with greet deliberacioun

  520 Hadde every thing that her-to mighte avayle

  Forn-cast, and put in execucioun.

  And neither laft, for cost ne for travayle;

  Come if hem list, hem sholde no-thing fayle;

  And for to been in ought espyed there,

  525 That, wiste he wel, an inpossible were.

  Dredelees, it cleer was in the wind

  Of every pye and every lette-game;

  Now al is wel, for al the world is blind

  In this matere, bothe fremed and tame.

  530 This timbur is al redy up to frame;

  Us lakketh nought but that we witen wolde

  A certein houre, in which she comen sholde.

  And Troilus, that al this purveyaunce

  Knew at the fulle, and waytede on it ay,

  535 Hadde here-up-on eek made gret ordenaunce,

  And founde his cause, and ther-to his aray,

  If that he were missed, night or day,

  Ther-whyle he was aboute this servyse,

  That he was goon to doon his sacrifyse,

  540 And moste at swich a temple alone wake,

  Answered of Appollo for to be;

  And first to seen the holy laurer quake,

  Er that Apollo spak out of the tree,

  To telle him next whan Grekes sholden flee,

  545 And forthy lette him no man, god forbede,

  But preye Apollo helpen in this nede.

  Now is ther litel more for to doone,

  But Pandare up, and shortly for to seyne,

  Right sone upon the chaunging of the mone,

  550 Whan lightles is the world a night or tweyne,

  And that the welken shoop him for to reyne,

  He streight a-morwe un-to his nece wente;

  Ye han wel herd the fyn of his entente.

  Whan he was come, he gan anoon to pleye

  555 As he was wont, and of him-self to Iape;

  And fynally, he swor and gan hir seye,

  By this and that, she sholde him not escape,

  Ne lengere doon him after hir to gape;

  But certeynly she moste, by hir leve,

  560 Come soupen in his hous with him at eve.

  At whiche she lough, and gan hir faste excuse,

  And seyde, `It rayneth; lo, how sholde I goon?'

  `Lat be,' quod he, `ne stond not thus to muse;

  This moot be doon, ye shal be ther anoon.'

  565 So at the laste her-of they felle at oon,

  Or elles, softe he swor hir in hir ere,

  He nolde never come ther she were.

  Sone after this, to him she gan to rowne,

  And asked him if Troilus were there?

  570 He swor hir, `Nay, for he was out of towne,'

  And seyde, `Nece, I pose that he were,

  Yow thurfte never have the more fere.

  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 seyde him, `Eem, sin I mot on yow triste,

  Loke al be wel, and do now as yow liste.'

  He swor hire, `Yis, by stokkes and by stones,

  590 And by the goddes that in hevene dwelle,

  Or elles were him levere, soule and bones,

  With Pluto king as depe been in helle

  As Tantalus!' What sho
lde I more telle?

  Whan al was wel, he roos and took his leve,

  595 And she to souper com, whan it was eve,

  With a certayn of hir owene men,

  And with hir faire nece Antigone,

  And othere of hir wommen nyne or ten;

  But who was glad now, who, as trowe ye,

  600 But Troilus, that stood and mighte it see

  Thurgh-out a litel windowe in a stewe,

  Ther he bishet, sin midnight, was in mewe,

  Unwist of every wight but of Pandare?

  But to the poynt; now whan that she was y-come

  605 With alle Ioye, and alle frendes fare,

  Hir em anoon in armes hath hir nome,

  And after to the souper, alle and some,

  Whan tyme was, ful softe they hem sette;

  God wot, ther was no deyntee for to fette.

  610 And after souper gonnen they to ryse,

  At ese wel, with hertes fresshe and glade,

  And wel was him that coude best devyse

  To lyken hir, or that hir laughen made.

  He song; she pleyde; he tolde tale of Wade.

  615 But at the laste, as every thing hath ende,

  She took hir leve, and nedes wolde wende.

  But O, Fortune, executrice of wierdes,

  O influences of thise hevenes hye!

  Soth is, that, under god, ye ben our hierdes,

  620 Though to us bestes been the causes wrye.

  This mene I now, for she gan hoomward hye,

  But execut was al bisyde hir leve,

  At the goddes wil, for which she moste bleve.

  The bente mone with hir hornes pale,

  625 Saturne, and Iove, in Cancro ioyned were,

  That swich a rayn from hevene gan avale

  That every maner womman that was there

  Hadde of that smoky reyn a verray fere;

  At which Pandare tho lough, and seyde thenne,

  630 `Now were it tyme a lady to go henne!

  `But goode nece, if I mighte ever plese

  Yow any-thing, than prey I yow,' quod he,

  `To doon myn herte as now so greet an ese

  As for to dwelle here al this night with me,

  635 For-why this is your owene hous, pardee.

  For, by my trouthe, I sey it nought a-game,

  To wende as now, it were to me a shame.'

  Criseyde, which that coude as muche good

  As half a world, tok hede of his preyere;

  640 And sin it ron, and al was on a flood,

  She thoughte, as good chep may I dwellen here,

  And graunte it gladly with a freendes chere,

  And have a thank, as grucche and thanne abyde;

  For hoom to goon, it may nought wel bityde.'

  645 `I wol,' quod she, `myn uncle leef and dere,

  Sin that yow list, it skile is to be so;

  I am right glad with yow to dwellen here;

  I seyde but a-game, I wolde go.'

  `Y-wis, graunt mercy, nece!' quod he tho;

  650 `Were it a game or no, soth for to telle,

  Now am I glad, sin that yow list to dwelle.'

  Thus al is wel; but tho bigan aright

  The newe Ioye, and al the feste agayn;

  But Pandarus, if goodly hadde he might,

  655 He wolde han hyed hir to bedde fayn,

  And seyde, `Lord, this is an huge rayn!

  This were a weder for to slepen inne;

  And that I rede us sonE to biginne.

  `And nece, woot ye wher I wol yow leye,

  660 For that we shul not liggen fer asonder,

  And for ye neither shullen, dar I seye,

  Heren noise of reynes nor of thondre?

  By god, right in my lyte closet yonder.

  And I wol in that outer hous allone

  665 Be wardeyn of your wommen everichone.

  `And in this middel chaumbre that ye see

  Shal youre wommen slepen wel and softe;

  And ther I seyde shal your-selve be;

  And if ye liggen wel to-night, com ofte,

  670 And careth not what weder is on-lofte.

  The wyn anon, and whan so that yow leste,

  So go we slepe, I trowe it be the beste.'

  Ther nis no more, but here-after sone,

  The voyde dronke, and travers drawe anon,

  675 Gan every wight, that hadde nought to done

  More in the place, out of the chaumber gon.

  And ever-mo so sternelich it ron,

  And blew ther-with so wonderliche loude,

  That wel neigh no man heren other coude.

  680 Tho Pandarus, hir eem, right as him oughte,

  With women swiche as were hir most aboute,