`Allas!' quod she, `what wordes may ye bringe?What wol my dere herte seyn to me,Which that I drede never-mo to see?Wol he have pleynte or teres, er I wende? 860I have y-nowe, if he ther-after sende!'She was right swich to seen in hir visageAs is that wight that men on bere binde;Hir face, lyk of Paradys the image,Was al y-chaunged in another kinde. 865The pleye, the laughtre men was wont to findeOn hir, and eek hir Ioyes everychone,Ben fled, and thus lyth now Criseyde allone.Aboute hir eyen two a purpre ringBi-trent, in sothfast tokninge of hir peyne, 870That to biholde it was a dedly thing,For which Pandare mighte not restreyneThe teres from his eyen for to reyne.But nathelees, as he best mighte, he seydeFrom Troilus thise wordes to Criseyde. 875`Lo, nece, I trowe ye han herd al howThe king, with othere lordes, for the beste,Hath mad eschaunge of Antenor and yow,That cause is of this sorwe and this unreste.But how this cas doth Troilus moleste, 880That may non erthely mannes tonge seye;For verray wo his wit is al aweye.`For which we han so sorwed, he and I,That in-to litel bothe it hadde us slawe;But thurgh my conseil this day, fynally, 885He somwhat is fro weping now with-drawe.And semeth me that he desyreth faweWith yow to been al night, for to devyseRemede in this, if ther were any wyse.`This, short and pleyne, theffect of my message, 890As ferforth as my wit can comprehende.For ye, that been of torment in swich rage,May to no long prologe as now entende;And her-upon ye may answere him sende.And, for the love of god, my nece dere, 895So leef this wo er Troilus be here.'`Gret is my wo,' quod she, and sighte sore,As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse;`But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more,That love him bet than he him-self, I gesse. 900Allas! For me hath he swich hevinesse?Can he for me so pitously compleyne?Y-wis, his sorwe doubleth al my peyne.`Grevous to me, god wot, is for to twinne,'Quod she, `but yet it hardere is to me 905To seen that sorwe which that he is inne;For wel wot I, it wol my bane be;And deye I wol in certayn,' tho quod she;`But bidde him come, er deeth, that thus me threteth,Dryve out that goost which in myn herte beteth.' 910Thise wordes seyd, she on hir armes twoFil gruf, and gan to wepe pitously.Quod Pandarus, `Allas! Why do ye so,Syn wel ye woot the tyme is faste by,That he shal come? Arys up hastely, 915That he yow nat biwopen thus ne finde,But ye wol have him wood out of his minde!`For wiste he that ye ferde in this manere,He wolde him-selve slee; and if I wendeTo han this fare, he sholde not come here 920For al the good that Pryam may despende.For to what fyn he wolde anoon pretende,That knowe I wel; and for-thy yet I seye,So leef this sorwe, or platly he wol deye.`And shapeth yow his sorwe for to abregge, 925And nought encresse, leve nece swete;Beth rather to him cause of flat than egge,And with som wysdom ye his sorwes bete.What helpeth it to wepen ful a strete,Or though ye bothe in salte teres dreynte? 930Bet is a tyme of cure ay than of pleynte.`I mene thus; whan I him hider bringe,Sin ye ben wyse, and bothe of oon assent,So shapeth how distourbe your goinge,Or come ayen, sone after ye be went. 935Wommen ben wyse in short avysement;And lat sen how your wit shal now avayle;And what that I may helpe, it shal not fayle.'`Go,' quod Criseyde, `and uncle, trewely,I shal don al my might, me to restreyne 940From weping in his sighte, and bisily,Him for to glade, I shal don al my peyne,And in myn herte seken every veyne;If to this soor ther may be founden salve,It shal not lakken, certain, on myn halve.' 945Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he soughte,Til in a temple he fond him allone,As he that of his lyf no lenger roughte;But to the pitouse goddes everichoneFul tendrely he preyde, and made his mone, 950To doon him sone out of this world to pace;For wel he thoughte ther was non other grace.And shortly, al the sothe for to seye,He was so fallen in despeyr that day,That outrely he shoop him for to deye. 955For right thus was his argument alwey:He seyde, he nas but loren, waylawey!`For al that comth, comth by necessitee;Thus to be lorn, it is my destinee.`For certaynly, this wot I wel,' he seyde, 960`That for-sight of divyne purveyaunceHath seyn alwey me to for-gon Criseyde,Sin god seeth every thing, out of doutaunce,And hem disponeth, thourgh his ordenaunce,In hir merytes sothly for to be, 965As they shul comen by predestinee.`But nathelees, allas! Whom shal I leve?For ther ben grete clerkes many oon,That destinee thorugh argumentes preve;And som men seyn that nedely ther is noon; 970But that free chois is yeven us everichoon.O, welaway! So sleye arn clerkes olde,That I not whos opinion I may holde.`For som men seyn, if god seth al biforn,Ne god may not deceyved ben, pardee, 975Than moot it fallen, though men hadde it sworn,That purveyaunce hath seyn bifore to be.Wherfor I seye, that from eterne if heHath wist biforn our thought eek as our dede,We have no free chois, as these clerkes rede. 980`For other thought nor other dede alsoMight never be, but swich as purveyaunce,Which may not ben deceyved never-mo,Hath feled biforn, with-outen ignoraunce.For if ther mighte been a variaunce 985To wrythen out fro goddes purveyinge,Ther nere no prescience of thing cominge;`But it were rather an opiniounUncerteyn, and no stedfast forseinge;And certes, that were an abusioun, 990That god shuld han no parfit cleer witingeMore than we men that han doutous weninge.But swich an errour up-on god to gesseWere fals and foul, and wikked corsednesse.`Eek this is an opinioun of somme 995That han hir top ful heighe and smothe y-shore;They seyn right thus, that thing is not to comeFor that the prescience hath seyn biforeThat it shal come; but they seyn that therforeThat it shal come, therfore the purveyaunce 1000Wot it biforn with-outen ignoraunce;`And in this manere this necessiteeRetorneth in his part contrarie agayn.For needfully bihoveth it not to beThat thilke thinges fallen in certayn 1005That ben purveyed; but nedely, as they seyn,Bihoveth it that thinges, whiche that falle,That they in certayn ben purveyed alle.`I mene as though I laboured me in this,To enqueren which thing cause of which thing be; 1010As whether that the prescience of god isThe certayn cause of the necessiteeOf thinges that to comen been, pardee;Or if necessitee of thing comingeBe cause certeyn of the purveyinge. 1015`But now ne enforce I me nat in shewingeHow the ordre of causes stant; but wel wot I,That it bihoveth that the bifallingeOf thinges wist biforen certeynlyBe necessarie, al seme it not ther-by 1020That prescience put falling necessaireTo thing to come, al falle it foule or faire.`For if ther sit a man yond on a see,Than by necessitee bihoveth itThat, certes, thyn opinioun soth be, 1025That wenest or coniectest that he sit;And ferther-over now ayenward yit,Lo, right so it is of the part contrarie,As thus; (now herkne, for I wol not tarie):`I seye, that if the opinioun of thee 1030Be sooth, for that he sit, than seye I this,That he mot sitten by necessitee;And thus necessitee in either is.For in him nede of sittinge is, y-wis,And in thee nede of sooth; and thus, forsothe, 1035Ther moot necessitee ben in yow bothe.`But thou mayst seyn, the man sit not therfore,That thyn opinioun of sitting soth is;But rather, for the man sit ther bifore,Therfore is thyn opinioun sooth, y-wis. 1040And I seye, though the cause of sooth of thisComth of his sitting, yet necessiteeIs entrechaunged, bothe in him and thee.`Thus on this same wyse, out of doutaunce,I may wel maken, as it semeth me, 1045My resoninge of goddes purveyaunce,And of the thinges that to comen be;By whiche reson men may wel y-see,That thilke thinges that in erthe falle,That by necessitee they comen alle. 1050`For al-though that, for thing shal come, y-wis,Therfore is it purveyed, certaynly,Nat that it comth for it purveyed is:Yet nathelees, bihoveth it nedfully,That thing to come be purveyed, trewely; 1055Or elles, thinges that purveyed be,That they bityden by necessitee.`And this suffyseth right y-now, certeyn,For to destroye our free chois every del. —But now is this abusion, to seyn, 1060That fallinge of the thinges temporelIs cause of goddes prescience eternel.Now trewely, that is a fals sentence,That thing to come sholde cause his prescience.`What mighte I wene, and I hadde swich a thought, 1065But that god purveyth thing that is to comeFor that it is to come, and elles nought?So mighte I wene that thinges alle and some,That whylom been bifalle and over-come,Ben cause of thilke sovereyn purveyaunce, 1070That for-wot al with-outen ignoraunce.`And over al this, yet seye I more herto,That right as whan I woot ther is a thing,Y-wis, that thing mot nedefully be so;Eek right so, whan I woot a thing coming, 1075So mot it come; and thus the bifallingOf thinges that ben wist bifore the tyde,They mowe not been eschewed on no syde.'Than seyde he thus, `Almighty Iove in trone,That wost of al this thing the soothfastnesse, 1080Rewe on my sorwe, or do me deye sone,Or bring Criseyde and me fro this distresse.'And whyl he was in al this hevinesse,Disputinge with him-self in this matere,Com Pandare in, and seyde as ye may here. 1085`O mighty god,' quod Pandarus, `in trone,Ey! Who seigh ever a wys man faren so?Why, Troilus, what thenkestow to done?Hastow swich lust to been thyn owene fo?What, parde, yet is not Criseyde a-go! 1090Why list thee so thy-self for-doon for drede,That in thyn heed thyn eyen semen dede?`Hastow not lived many a yeer bifornWith-outen hir, and ferd ful wel at ese?Artow for hir and for non other born? 1095Hath kinde thee wroughte al-only hir to plese?Lat be, and thenk right thus in thy disese.That, in the dees right as ther fallen chaunces,Right so in love, ther come and goon plesaunces.`And yet this is a wonder most of alle, 1100Why thou thus sorwest, sin thou nost not yit,Touching hir goinge, how that it shal falle,Ne if she can hir-self distorben it.Thou hast not yet assayed al hir wit.A man may al by tyme his nekke bede 1105Whan it shal of, and sorwen at the nede.`For-thy take hede of that that I shal seye;I have with hir y-spoke and longe y-be,So as accorded was bitwixe us tweye.And ever-mor me thinketh thus, that she 1110Hath som-what in hir hertes prevetee,Wher-with she can, if I shal right arede,Distorbe al this, of which thou art in drede.`For which my counseil is, whan it is night,Thou to hir go, and make of this an ende; 1115And blisful Iuno, thourgh hir grete mighte,Shal, as I hope, hir grace un-to us sende.Myn herte seyth, "Certeyn, she shal not wende;"And for-thy put thyn herte a whyle in reste;And hold this purpos, for it is the beste.' 1120This Troilus answerde, and sighte sore,`Thou seyst right wel, and I wil do right so;'And what him liste, he seyde un-to it more.And whan that it was tyme for to go,Ful prevely him-self, with-outen mo, 1125Un-to hir com, as he was wont to done;And how they wroughte, I shal yow telle sone.Soth is, that whan they gonne first to mete,So gan the peyne hir hertes for to twiste,That neither of hem other mighte grete, 1130But hem in armes toke and after kiste.The lasse wofulle of hem bothe nisteWher that he was, ne mighte o word out-bringe,As I seyde erst, for wo and for sobbinge.Tho woful teres that they leten falle 1135As bittre weren, out of teres kinde,For peyne, as is ligne aloes or galle.So bittre teres weep nought, as I finde,The woful Myrra through the bark and rinde.That in this world ther nis so hard an herte, 1140That nolde han rewed on hir peynes smerte.But whan hir woful wery gostes tweyneRetorned been ther-as hem oughte dwelle,And that som-what to wayken gan the peyneBy lengthe of pleynte, and ebben gan the welle 1145Of hire teres, and the herte unswelle,With broken voys, al hoors for-shright, CriseydeTo Troilus thise ilke wordes seyde:`O Iove, I deye, and mercy I beseche!Help, Troilus!' And ther-with-al hir face 1150Upon his brest she leyde, and loste speche;Hir woful spirit from his propre place,Right with the word, alwey up poynt to pace.And thus she lyth with hewes pale and grene,That whylom fresh and fairest was to sene. 1155This Troilus, that on hir gan biholde,Clepinge hir name, (and she lay as for deed,With-oute answere, and felte hir limes colde,Hir eyen throwen upward to hir heed),This sorwful man can now noon other reed, 1160But ofte tyme hir colde mouth he kiste;Wher him was wo, god and him-self it wiste!He rist him up, and long streight he hir leyde;For signe of lyf, for ought he can or may,Can he noon finde in no-thing on Criseyde, 1165For which his song ful ofte is `weylaway!'But whan he saugh that specheles she lay,With sorwful voys and herte of blisse al bare,He seyde how she was fro this world y-fare!So after that he longe hadde hir compleyned, 1170His hondes wrong, and seyde that was to seye,And with his teres salte hir brest bireyned,He gan tho teris wypen of ful dreye,And pitously gan for the soule preye,And seyde, `O lord, that set art in thy trone, 1175Rewe eek on me, for I shal folwe hir sone!'She cold was and with-outen sentement,For aught he woot, for breeth ne felte he noon;And this was him a preignant argumentThat she was forth out of this world agoon; 1180And whan he seigh ther was non other woon,He gan hir limes dresse in swich manereAs men don hem that shul be leyd on bere.And after this, with sterne and cruel herte,His swerd a-noon out of his shethe he twighte, 1185Him-self to sleen, how sore that him smerte,So that his sowle hir sowle folwen mighte,Ther-as the doom of Mynos wolde it dighte;Sin love and cruel Fortune it ne wolde,That in this world he lenger liven sholde. 1190Thanne seyde he thus, fulfild of heigh desdayn,`O cruel Iove, and thou, Fortune adverse,This al and som, that falsly have ye slaynCriseyde, and sin ye may do me no werse,Fy on your might and werkes so diverse! 1195Thus cowardly ye shul me never winne;Ther shal no deeth me fro my lady twinne.`For I this world, sin ye han slayn hir thus,Wol lete, and folowe hir spirit lowe or hye;Shal never lover seyn that Troilus 1200Dar not, for fere, with his lady dye;For certeyn, I wol bere hir companye.But sin ye wol not suffre us liven here,Yet suffreth that our soules ben y-fere.`And thou, citee, whiche that I leve in wo, 1205And thou, Pryam, and bretheren al y-fere,And thou, my moder, farwel! For I go;And Attropos, make redy thou my bere!And thou, Criseyde, o swete herte dere,Receyve now my spirit!' wolde he seye, 1210With swerd at herte, al redy for to deyeBut as god wolde, of swough ther-with she abreyde,And gan to syke, and `Troilus' she cryde;And he answerde, `Lady myn Criseyde,Live ye yet?' and leet his swerd doun glyde. 1215`Ye, herte myn, that thanked be Cupyde!'Quod she, and ther-with-al she sore sighte;And he bigan to glade hir as he mighte;Took hir in armes two, and kiste hir ofte,And hir to glade he dide al his entente; 1220For which hir goost, that flikered ay on-lofte,In-to hir woful herte ayein it wente.But at the laste, as that hir eyen glenteA-syde, anoon she gan his swerd aspye,As it lay bare, and gan for fere crye, 1225And asked him, why he it hadde out-drawe?And Troilus anoon the cause hir tolde,And how himself ther-with he wolde have slawe.For which Criseyde up-on him gan biholde,And gan him in hir armes faste folde, 1230And seyde, `O mercy, god, lo, which a dede!Allas! How neigh we were bothe dede!`Thanne if I ne hadde spoken, as grace was,Ye wolde han slayn your-self anoon?' quod she.`Ye, douteless;' and she answerde, `Allas! 1235For, by that ilke lord that made me,I nolde a forlong wey on-lyve han be,After your deeth, to han been crouned queneOf al the lond the sonne on shyneth shene.`But with this selve swerd, which that here is, 1240My-selve I wolde han slayn!' — quod she tho;`But ho, for we han right y-now of this,And late us ryse and streight to bedde goAnd there lat ys speken of oure wo.For, by the morter which that I see brenne, 1245Knowe I ful wel that day is not fer henne.'Whan they were in hir bedde, in armes folde,Nought was it lyk tho nightes here-biforn;For pitously ech other gan biholde,As they that hadden al hir blisse y-lorn, 1250Biwaylinge ay the day that they were born.Til at the last this sorwful wight CriseydeTo Troilus these ilke wordes seyde: —`Lo, herte myn, wel wot ye this,' quod she,`That if a wight alwey his wo compleyne, 1255And seketh nought how holpen for to be,It nis but folye and encrees of peyne;And sin that here assembled be we tweyneTo finde bote of wo that we ben inne,It were al tyme sone to biginne. 1260`I am a womman, as ful wel ye woot,And as I am avysed sodeynly,So wol I telle yow, whyl it is hoot.Me thinketh thus, that nouther ye nor IOughte half this wo to make skilfully. 1265For there is art y-now for to redresseThat yet is mis, and sleen this hevinesse.`Sooth is, the wo, the whiche that we ben inne,For ought I woot, for no-thing elles isBut for the cause that we sholden twinne. 1270Considered al, ther nis no-more amis.But what is thanne a remede un-to this,But that we shape us sone for to mete?This al and som, my dere herte swete.`Now that I shal wel bringen it aboute 1275To come ayein, sone after that I go,Ther-of am I no maner thing in doute.For dredeles, with-inne a wouke or two,I shal ben here; and, that it may be soBy alle right, and in a wordes fewe, 1280I shal yow wel an heep of weyes shewe.`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. 1285And, for the love of god, for-yeve it meIf I speke ought ayein your hertes reste;For trewely, I speke it for the beste;`Makinge alwey a protestacioun,That now these wordes, whiche that I shal seye, 1290Nis 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. 1295`Now herkneth this, ye han wel understonde,My goinge graunted is by parlementSo ferforth, that it may not be with-stondeFor al this world, as by my Iugement.And sin ther helpeth noon avysement 1300To letten it, lat it passe out of minde;And lat us shape a bettre wey to finde.`The sothe is, that the twinninge of us tweyneWol us disese and cruelliche anoye.But him bihoveth som-tyme han a peyne, 1305That serveth love, if that he wol have Ioye.And sin I shal no ferthere out of TroyeThan I may ryde ayein on half a morwe,It oughte lesse causen us to sorwe.`So as I shal not so ben hid in muwe, 1310That day by day, myn owene herte dere,Sin wel ye woot that it is now a trewe,Ye shal 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 1315And me also; beth glad now, if ye conne;`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. 1320And thanne at erste shul we been so fayn,So as we shulle to-gederes ever dwelle,That al this world ne mighte our blisse telle.`I see that ofte, ther-as we ben now,That for the beste, our counseil for to hyde, 1325Ye speke not with me, nor I with yowIn 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! 1330`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 1335For al this world, as wyd as it hath space;Or elles, see ich never Ioves face!`Why trowe ye my fader in this wyseCoveiteth so to see me, but for dredeLest in this toun that folkes me dispyse 1340By-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.`Ye seen that every day eek, more and more, 1345Men 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, 1350Ye may the bettre at ese of herte abyde.`For if that it be pees, myn herte dere,The nature of the pees mot nedes dryveThat men moste entrecomunen y-fere,And to and fro eek ryde and gon as blyve 1355Alday as thikke as been flen from an hyve;And every wight han libertee to bleveWhere-as him list the bet, with-outen leve.`And though so be that pees ther may be noon,Yet hider, though ther never pees ne were, 1360I moste come; for whider sholde I goon,Or how mischaunce sholde I dwelle thereAmong tho men of armes ever in fere?For which, as wisly god my soule rede,I can not seen wher-of ye sholden drede. 1365`Have here another wey, if it so beThat 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, 1370With-oute net, wher-with I shal him hente;And herkeneth how, if that ye wole assente.`Lo, Troilus, men seyn that hard it isThe wolf ful, and the wether hool to have;This is to seyn, that men ful ofte, y-wis, 1375Mot spenden part, the remenant for to save.For ay with gold men may the herte graveOf him that set is up-on coveityse;And how I mene, I shal it yow devyse.`The moeble which that I have in this toun 1380Un-to my fader shal I take, and seye,That right for trust and for savaciounIt sent is from a freend of his or tweye,The whiche freendes ferventliche him preyeTo senden after more, and that in hye, 1385Whyl that this toun stant thus in Iupartye.`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, 1390What frendes that ich have on every sydeToward the court, to doon the wrathe paceOf Priamus, and doon him stonde in grace.`So what for o thing and for other, swete,I shal him so enchaunten with my sawes, 1395That 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. 1400`And if he wolde ought by his sort it preveIf that I lye, in certayn I shal fondeDistorben him, and plukke him by the sleve,Makinge his sort, and beren him on honde,He hath not wel the goddes understonde. 1405For goddes speken in amphibologyes,And, for o sooth they tellen twenty lyes.`Eek drede fond first goddes, I suppose,Thus shal I seyn, and that his cowarde herteMade him amis the goddes text to glose, 1410Whan 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.'And treweliche, as writen wel I finde, 1415That al this thing was seyd of good entente;And that hir herte trewe was and kindeTowardes 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; 1420Thus writen they that of hir werkes knewe.This Troilus, with herte and eres spradde,Herde al this thing devysen to and fro;And verraylich him semed that he haddeThe selve wit; but yet to lete hir go 1425His herte misforyaf him ever-mo.But fynally, he gan his herte wresteTo trusten hir, and took it for the beste.For which the grete furie of his penaunceWas queynt with hope, and ther-with hem bitwene 1430Bigan 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-fereDelyted hem, and made hir hertes clere. 1435But 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 hire, `Certes, if ye be unkinde, 1440And but ye come at day set in-to Troye,Ne shal I never have hele, honour, ne Ioye.`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, 1445I 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!`For trewely, myn owene lady dere, 1450Tho sleightes yet that I have herd yow stereFul 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, 1455"Men may the wyse at-renne, and not at-rede."`It is ful hard to halten unespyedBifore a crepul, for he can the craft;Your fader is in sleighte as Argus yed;For al be that his moeble is him biraft, 1460His 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.`I noot if pees shal ever-mo bityde;But, pees or no, for ernest ne for game, 1465I woot, sin Calkas on the Grekis sydeHath 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. 1470`Ye shal eek seen, your fader shal yow gloseTo 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. 1475And Troilus, of whom ye nil han routhe,Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe!`And over al this, your fader shal despyseUs alle, and seyn this citee nis but lorn;And that thassege never shal aryse, 1480For-why the Grekes han it alle swornTil we be slayn, and doun our walles torn.And thus he shal yow with his wordes fere,That ay drede I, that ye wol bleve there.`Ye shul eek seen so many a lusty knight 1485A-mong the Grekes, ful of worthinesse,And eche of hem with herte, wit, and mightTo plesen yow don al his besinesse,That ye shul dullen of the rudenesseOf us sely Troianes, but-if routhe 1490Remorde yow, or vertue of your trouthe.`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 sinkeA good opinioun, if that ye wende; 1495For-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.`For which, with humble, trewe, and pitous herte,A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye; 1500So 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. 1505`I mene this, that sin we mowe er dayWel 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? 1510Thus mene I, that it were a gret folyeTo putte that sikernesse in Iupertye.`And vulgarly to speken of substaunceOf tresour, may we bothe with us ledeY-nough to live in honour and plesaunce, 1515Til in-to tyme that we shal 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.`And hardily, ne dredeth no poverte, 1520For I have kin and freendes elles-whereThat, though we comen in oure bare sherte,Us sholde neither lakke gold ne gere,But been honured whyl we dwelten there.And go we anoon, for, as in myn entente, 1525This is the beste, if that ye wole assente.'Criseyde, with a syk, right in this wyseAnswerde, `Y-wis, my dere herte trewe,We may wel stele away, as ye devyse,And finde swich unthrifty weyes newe; 1530But afterward, ful sore it wol us rewe.And help me god so at my moste nedeAs causeles ye suffren al this drede!`For thilke day that I for cherisshingeOr drede of fader, or of other wight, 1535Or 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 dwelleEternaly in Stix, the put of helle! 1540`And this on every god celestialI 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; 1545And Attropos my threed of lyf to-bresteIf I be fals; now trowe me if thow leste!`And thou, Simoys, that as an arwe clereThorugh Troye rennest ay downward to the see,Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here, 1550That thilke day that ich untrewe beTo Troilus, myn owene herte free,That thou retorne bakwarde to thy welle,And I with body and soule sinke in helle!`But that ye speke, awey thus for to go 1555And leten alle your freendes, god for-bede,For any womman, that ye sholden so,And namely, sin Troye hath now swich nedeOf help; and eek of o thing taketh hede,If this were wist, my lif laye in balaunce, 1560And your honour; god shilde us fro mischaunce!`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! 1565And er that ye Iuparten so your name,Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare;For hasty man ne wanteth never care.`What trowe ye the peple eek al abouteWolde of it seye? It is ful light to arede. 1570They 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. 1575`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, 1580My name sholde I never ayeinward winne;Thus were I lost, and that were routhe and sinne.`And for-thy slee with reson al this hete;Men seyn, "The suffraunt overcometh," pardee;Eek "Who-so wol han leef, he lief mot lete;" 1585Thus maketh vertue of necessiteeBy pacience, and thenk that lord is heOf fortune ay, that nought wol of hir recche;And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche.`And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete, 1590Er 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, 1595I wol yow seen with-outen any fayle.'`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, 1600So lat us stele prively away;For ever in oon, as for to live in reste,Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste.'`O mercy, god, what lyf is this?' quod she;`Allas, ye slee me thus for verray tene! 1605I 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. 1610`And thenketh wel, that som tyme it is witTo 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; 1615And trusteth me, and leveth eek your sorwe,Or here my trouthe, I wol not live til morwe.`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, 1620To see yow wepen that I love most,And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost.Ye, nere it that I wiste remedyeTo come ayein, right here I wolde dye!`But certes, I am not so nyce a wight 1625That I ne can imaginen a weyTo 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 1630Another day shal torne us alle to Ioye.`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, 1635That of so good a comfort and a chereI may you seen, that ye may bringe at resteMyn herte, which that is at point to breste.`And over al this I pray yow,' quod she tho,`Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce, 1640Sin I am thyn al hool, with-outen mo,That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunceOf 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." 1645`For in this world ther liveth lady noon,If that ye were untrewe, as god defende!That so bitraysed were or wo bigoonAs I, that alle trouthe in yow entende.And douteles, if that ich other wende, 1650I nere but deed; and er ye cause finde,For goddes love, so beth me not unkinde.'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, 1655Sin thilke day I saw hir first with ye,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.'`Graunt mercy, goode myn, y-wis,' quod she, 1660`And blisful Venus lat me never sterveEr I may stonde of plesaunce in degreeTo 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, 1665That ay honour to me-ward shal rebounde.`For trusteth wel, that your estat royalNe veyn delyt, nor only worthinesseOf yow in werre, or torney marcial,Ne pompe, array, nobley, or eek richesse, 1670Ne made me to rewe on your distresse;But moral vertue, grounded upon trouthe,That was the cause I first hadde on yow routhe!`Eek gentil herte and manhod that ye hadde,And that ye hadde, as me thoughte, in despyt 1675Every 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. 1680`And this may lengthe of yeres not for-do,Ne remuable fortune deface;But Iuppiter, that of his might may doThe sorwful to be glad, so yeve us grace,Er nightes ten, to meten in this place, 1685So that it may your herte and myn suffyse;And fareth now wel, for tyme is that ye ryse.'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, 1690And 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.For mannes heed imaginen ne can, 1695Ne entendement considere, ne tonge telleThe 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, 1700With-outen more, out of the chaumbre he wente.Explicit Liber Quartus.