Gan westren faste, and dounward for to wrye,As he that hadde his dayes cours y-ronne;And whyte thinges wexen dimme and donneFor lak of light, and sterres for to appere,That she and al hir folk in wente y-fere. 910So whan it lyked hir to goon to reste,And voyded weren they that voyden oughte,She seyde, that to slepe wel hir leste.Hir wommen sone til hir bed hir broughte.Whan al was hust, than lay she stille, and thoughte 915Of al this thing the manere and the wyse.Reherce it nedeth nought, for ye ben wyse.A nightingale, upon a cedre grene,Under the chambre-wal ther as she lay,Ful loude sang ayein the mone shene, 920Paraunter, in his briddes wyse, a layOf love, that made hir herte fresh and gay.That herkned she so longe in good entente,Til at the laste the dede sleep hir hente.And as she sleep, anoon-right tho hir mette, 925How that an egle, fethered whyt as boon,Under hir brest his longe clawes sette,And out hir herte he rente, and that a-noon,And dide his herte in-to hir brest to goon,Of which she nought agroos, ne no-thing smerte, 930And forth he fleigh, with herte left for herte.Now lat hir slepe, and we our tales holdeOf Troilus, that is to paleys riden,Fro the scarmuch, of the whiche I tolde,And in his chaumbre sit, and hath abiden 935Til two or three of his messages yedenFor Pandarus, and soughten him ful faste,Til they him founde and broughte him at the laste.This Pandarus com leping in at ones,And seiyde thus: `Who hath ben wel y-bete 940To-day with swerdes, and with slinge-stones,But Troilus, that hath caught him an hete?'And gan to Iape, and seyde, `Lord, so ye swete!But rys, and lat us soupe and go to reste;' 944And he answerde him, `Do we as thee leste.'With al the haste goodly that they mighte,They spedde hem fro the souper un-to bedde;And every wight out at the dore him dighte,And wher him liste upon his wey him spedde;But Troilus, that thoughte his herte bledde 950For wo, til that he herde som tydinge,He seyde, `Freend, shal I now wepe or singe?'Quod Pandarus, `Ly stille and lat me slepe,And don thyn hood, thy nedes spedde be;And chese, if thou wolt singe or daunce or lepe; 955At shorte wordes, thow shal trowe me. —Sire, my nece wol do wel by thee,And love thee best, by god and by my trouthe,But lak of pursuit make it in thy slouthe.`For thus ferforth I have thy work bigonne, 960Fro day to day, til this day, by the morwe,Hir love of freendship have I to thee wonne,And also hath she leyd hir feyth to borwe.Algate a foot is hameled of thy sorwe.'What sholde I lenger sermon of it holde? 965As ye han herd bifore, al he him tolde.But right as floures, thorugh the colde of nightY-closed, stoupen on hir stalke lowe,Redressen hem a-yein the sonne bright,And spreden on hir kinde cours by rowe, 970Right so gan tho his eyen up to throweThis Troilus, and seyde, `O Venus dere,Thy might, thy grace, y-heried be it here!'And to Pandare he held up bothe his hondes,And seyde, `Lord, al thyn be that I have; 975For I am hool, al brosten been my bondes;A thousand Troians who so that me yave,Eche after other, god so wis me save,Ne mighte me so gladen; lo, myn herte,It spredeth so for Ioye, it wol to-sterte! 980`But Lord, how shal I doon, how shal I liven?Whan shal I next my dere herte see?How shal this longe tyme a-wey be driven,Til that thou be ayein at hir fro me?Thou mayst answere, "A-byd, a-byd," but he 985That hangeth by the nekke, sooth to seyne,In grete disese abydeth for the peyne.'`Al esily, now, for the love of Marte,'Quod Pandarus, `for every thing hath tyme;So longe abyd til that the night departe; 990For al so siker as thow lyst here by me,And god toforn, I wol be there at pryme,And for thy werk somwhat as I shal seye,Or on som other wight this charge leye.`For pardee, god wot, I have ever yit 995Ben redy thee to serve, and to this nightHave I nought fayned, but emforth my witDon al thy lust, and shal with al my might.Do now as I shal seye, and fare a-right;And if thou nilt, wyte al thy-self thy care, 1000On me is nought along thyn yvel fare.`I woot wel that thow wyser art than IA thousand fold, but if I were as thou,God help me so, as I wolde outrely,Right of myn owene hond, wryte hir right now 1005A lettre, in which I wolde hir tellen howI ferde amis, and hir beseche of routhe;Now help thy-self, and leve it not for slouthe.`And I my-self shal ther-with to hir goon;And whan thou wost that I am with hir there, 1010Worth thou up-on a courser right anoon,Ye, hardily, right in thy beste gere,And ryd forth by the place, as nought ne were,And thou shalt finde us, if I may, sittingeAt som windowe, in-to the strete lokinge. 1015`And if thee list, than maystow us saluwe,And up-on me make thy contenaunce;But, by thy lyf, be war and faste eschuweTo tarien ought, god shilde us fro mischaunce!Ryd forth thy wey, and hold thy governaunce; 1020And we shal speke of thee som-what, I trowe,Whan Thou art goon, to do thyne eres glowe!`Touching thy lettre, thou art wys y-nough,I woot thow nilt it digneliche endyte;As make it with thise argumentes tough; 1025Ne scrivenish or craftily thou it wryte;Beblotte it with thy teres eek a lyte;And if thou wryte a goodly word al softe,Though it be good, reherce it not to ofte.`For though the beste harpour upon lyve 1030Wolde on the beste souned Ioly harpeThat ever was, with alle his fingres fyve,Touche ay o streng, or ay o werbul harpe,Were his nayles poynted never so sharpe,It shulde maken every wight to dulle, 1035To here his glee, and of his strokes fulle.`Ne Iompre eek no discordaunt thing y-fere,As thus, to usen termes of phisyk;In loves termes, hold of thy matereThe forme alwey, and do that it be lyk; 1040For if a peyntour wolde peynte a pykWith asses feet, and hede it as an ape,It cordeth nought; so nere it but a Iape.'This counseyl lyked wel to Troilus;But, as a dreedful lover, he seyde this: — 1045`Allas, my dere brother Pandarus,I am ashamed for to wryte, y-wis,Lest of myn innocence I seyde a-mis,Or that she nolde it for despyt receyve;Thanne were I deed, ther mighte it no-thing weyve.' 1050To that Pandare answerde, `If thee lest,Do that I seye, and lat me therwith goon;For by that lord that formed est and west,I hope of it to bringe answere anoonRight of hir hond, and if that thou nilt noon, 1055Lat be; and sory mote he been his lyve,Ayeins thy lust that helpeth thee to thryve.'Quod Troilus, `Depardieux, I assente;Sin that thee list, I will aryse and wryte;And blisful god preye ich, with good entente, 1060The vyage, and the lettre I shal endyte,So spede it; and thou, Minerva, the whyte,Yif thou me wit my lettre to devyse:'And sette him doun, and wroot right in this wyse. —First he gan hir his righte lady calle, 1065His hertes lyf, his lust, his sorwes leche,His blisse, and eek these othere termes alle,That in swich cas these loveres alle seche;And in ful humble wyse, as in his speche,He gan him recomaunde un-to hir grace; 1070To telle al how, it axeth muchel space.And after this, ful lowly he hir praydeTo be nought wrooth, though he, of his folye,So hardy was to hir to wryte, and seyde,That love it made, or elles moste he dye, 1075And pitously gan mercy for to crye;And after that he seyde, and ley ful loude,Him-self was litel worth, and lesse he coude;And that she sholde han his conning excused,That litel was, and eek he dredde hir so, 1080And his unworthinesse he ay acused;And after that, than gan he telle his woo;But that was endeles, with-outen ho;And seyde, he wolde in trouthe alwey him holde; —And radde it over, and gan the lettre folde. 1085And with his salte teres gan he batheThe ruby in his signet, and it setteUpon the wex deliverliche and rathe;Ther-with a thousand tymes, er he lette,He kiste tho the lettre that he shette, 1090And seyde, `Lettre, a blisful desteneeThee shapen is, my lady shal thee see.'This Pandare took the lettre, and that by tymeA-morwe, and to his neces paleys sterte,And faste he swoor, that it was passed pryme, 1095And gan to Iape, and seyde, `Y-wis, myn herte,So fresh it is, al-though it sore smerte,I may not slepe never a Mayes morwe;I have a Ioly wo, a lusty sorwe.'Criseyde, whan that she hir uncle herde, 1100With dreedful herte, and desirous to hereThe cause of his cominge, thus answerde:`Now by your feyth, myn uncle,' quod she, `dere,What maner windes gydeth yow now here?Tel us your Ioly wo and your penaunce, 1105How ferforth be ye put in loves daunce.'`By god,' quod he, `I hoppe alwey bihinde!'And she to-laugh, it thoughte hir herte breste.Quod Pandarus, `Loke alwey that ye findeGame in myn hood, but herkneth, if yow leste; 1110Ther is right now come in-to toune a geste,A Greek espye, and telleth newe thinges,For which I come to telle yow tydinges.`Into the gardin go we, and we shal here,Al prevely, of this a long sermoun.' 1115With that they wenten arm in arm y-fereIn-to the gardin from the chaumbre doun.And whan that he so fer was that the sounOf that he speke, no man here mighte,He seyde hir thus, and out the lettre plighte, 1120`Lo, he that is al hoolly youres freeHim recomaundeth lowly to your grace,And sent to you this lettre here by me;Avyseth you on it, whan ye han space,And of som goodly answere yow purchace; 1125Or, helpe me god, so pleynly for to seyne,He may not longe liven for his peyne.'Ful dredfully tho gan she stonde stille,And took it nought, but al hir humble chereGan for to chaunge, and seyde, `Scrit ne bille, 1130For love of god, that toucheth swich matere,Ne bring me noon; and also, uncle dere,To myn estat have more reward, I preye,Than to his lust; what sholde I more seye?`And loketh now if this be resonable, 1135And letteth nought, for favour ne for slouthe,To seyn a sooth; now were it covenableTo myn estat, by god, and by your trouthe,To taken it, or to han of him routhe,In harming of my-self or in repreve? 1140Ber it a-yein, for him that ye on leve!'This Pandarus gan on hir for to stare,And seyde, `Now is this the grettest wonderThat ever I sey! Lat be this nyce fare!To deethe mote I smiten be with thonder, 1145If, for the citee which that stondeth yonder,Wolde I a lettre un-to yow bringe or takeTo harm of yow; what list yow thus it make?`But thus ye faren, wel neigh alle and some,That he that most desireth yow to serve, 1150Of him ye recche leest wher he bicome,And whether that he live or elles sterve.But for al that that ever I may deserve,Refuse it nought,' quod he, and hente hir faste,And in hir bosom the lettre doun he thraste, 1155And seyde hire, `Now cast it awey anoon,That folk may seen and gauren on us tweye.'Quod she, `I can abyde til they be goon,'And gan to smyle, and seyde hym, `Eem, I preye,Swich answere as yow list, your-self purveye, 1160For trewely I nil no lettre wryte.'`No? than wol I,' quod he, `so ye endyte.'Therwith she lough, and seyde, `Go we dyne.'And he gan at him-self to iape faste,And seyde, `Nece, I have so greet a pyne 1165For love, that every other day I faste' —And gan his beste Iapes forth to caste;And made hir so to laughe at his folye,That she for laughter wende for to dye.And whan that she was comen in-to halle, 1170`Now, eem,' quod she, `we wol go dine anoon;'And gan some of hir women to hir calle,And streyght in-to hir chaumbre gan she goon;But of hir besinesses, this was oonA-monges othere thinges, out of drede, 1175Ful prively this lettre for to rede;Avysed word by word in every lyne,And fond no lak, she thoughte he coude good;And up it putte, and went hir in to dyne.But Pandarus, that in a study stood, 1180Er he was war, she took him by the hood,And seyde, `Ye were caught er that ye wiste;'`I vouche sauf,' quod he. `do what yow liste.'Tho wesshen they, and sette hem doun and ete;And after noon ful sleyly Pandarus 1185Gan drawe him to the window next the strete,And seyde, `Nece, who hath arayed thusThe yonder hous, that stant afor-yeyn us?'`Which hous?' quod she, and gan for to biholde,And knew it wel, and whos it was him tolde, 1190And fillen forth in speche of thinges smale,And seten in the window bothe tweye.Whan Pandarus saw tyme un-to his tale,And saw wel that hir folk were alle aweye,`Now, nece myn, tel on,' quod he; `I seye, 1195How liketh yow the lettre that ye woot?Can he ther-on? For, by my trouthe, I noot.'Therwith al rosy hewed tho wex she,And gan to humme, and seyde, `So I trowe.'`Aquyte him wel, for goddes love,' quod he; 1200`My-self to medes wol the lettre sowe.'And held his hondes up, and sat on knowe,`Now, goode nece, be it never so lyte,Yif me the labour, it to sowe and plyte.'`Ye, for I can so wryte,' quod she tho; 1205`And eek I noot what I sholde to him seye.'`Nay, nece,' quod Pandare, `sey nat so;Yet at the leste thanketh him, I preye,Of his good wil, and doth him not to deye.Now for the love of me, my nece dere, 1210Refuseth not at this tyme my preyere.'`Depar-dieux,' quod she, `God leve al be wel!God help me so, this is the firste lettreThat ever I wroot, ye, al or any del.'And in-to a closet, for to avyse hir bettre, 1215She wente allone, and gan hir herte unfettreOut of disdaynes prison but a lyte;And sette hir doun, and gan a lettre wryte,Of which to telle in short is myn ententeTheffect, as fer as I can understonde: — 1220She thonked him of al that he wel menteTowardes hir, but holden him in hondeShe nolde nought, ne make hir-selven bondeIn love, but as his suster, him to plese,She wolde fayn to doon his herte an ese. 1225She shette it, and to Pandarus in gan goon,There as he sat and loked in-to the strete,And doun she sette hir by him on a stoonOf Iaspre, up-on a quisshin gold y-bete,And seyde, `As wisly helpe me god the grete, 1230I never dide a thing with more peyneThan wryte this, to which ye me constreyne;'And took it him: He thonked hir and seyde,`God woot, of thing ful ofte looth bigonneCometh ende good; and nece myn, Criseyde, 1235That ye to him of hard now ben y-wonneOughte he be glad, by god and yonder sonne!For-why men seyth, "Impressiounes lighteFul lightly been ay redy to the flighte.'`But ye han pleyed tyraunt neigh to longe, 1240And hard was it your herte for to grave;Now stint, that ye no longer on it honge,Al wolde ye the forme of daunger save.But hasteth yow to doon him Ioye have;For trusteth wel, to longe y-doon hardnesse 1245Causeth despyt ful often, for destresse.'And right as they declamed this matere,Lo, Troilus, right at the stretes ende,Com ryding with his tenthe some y-fere,Al softely, and thiderward gan bende 1250Ther-as they sete, as was his way to wendeTo paleys-ward; and Pandare him aspyde,And seyde, `Nece, y-see who cometh here ryde!`O flee not in, he seeth us, I suppose;Lest he may thinke that ye him eschuwe.' 1255`Nay, nay,' quod she, and wex as reed as rose.With that he gan hir humbly to saluweWith dreedful chere, and oft his hewes muwe;And up his look debonairly he caste,And bekked on Pandare, and forth he paste. 1260God woot if he sat on his hors a-right,Or goodly was beseyn, that ilke day!God woot wher he was lyk a manly knight!What sholde I drecche, or telle of his aray?Criseyde, which that alle these thinges say, 1265To telle in short, hir lyked al y-fere,His persone, his aray, his look, his chere,His goodly manere, and his gentillesse,So wel, that never, sith that she was born,Ne hadde she swich routhe of his distresse; 1270And how-so she hath hard ben her-biforn,To god hope I, she hath now caught a thorn,She shal not pulle it out this nexte wyke;God sende mo swich thornes on to pyke!Pandare, which that stood hir faste by, 1275Felte iren hoot, and he bigan to smyte,And seyde, `Nece, I pray yow hertely,Tel me that I shal axen yow a lyte:A womman, that were of his deeth to wyte,With-outen his gilt, but for hir lakked routhe, 1280Were it wel doon?' Quod she, `Nay, by my trouthe!'`God help me so,' quod he, `ye sey me sooth.Ye felen wel your-self that I not lye;Lo, yond he rit!' Quod she, `Ye, so he dooth!'`Wel,' quod Pandare, `as I have told yow thrye, 1285Lat be youre nyce shame and youre folye,And spek with him in esing of his herte;Lat nycetee not do yow bothe smerte.'But ther-on was to heven and to done;Considered al thing, it may not be; 1290And why, for shame; and it were eek to soneTo graunten him so greet a libertee.`For playnly hir entente,' as seyde she,`Was for to love him unwist, if she mighte,And guerdon him with no-thing but with sighte.' 1295But Pandarus thoughte, `It shal not be so,If that I may; this nyce opiniounShal not be holden fully yeres two.'What sholde I make of this a long sermoun?He moste assente on that conclusioun, 1300As for the tyme; and whan that it was eve,And al was wel, he roos and took his leve.And on his wey ful faste homward he spedde,And right for Ioye he felte his herte daunce;And Troilus he fond alone a-bedde, 1305That lay as dooth these loveres, in a traunce,Bitwixen hope and derk desesperaunce.But Pandarus, right at his in-cominge,He song, as who seyth, `Lo! Sumwhat I bringe,'And seyde, `Who is in his bed so sone 1310Y-buried thus?' `It am I, freend,' quod he.`Who, Troilus? Nay, helpe me so the mone,'Quod Pandarus, `Thou shalt aryse and seeA charme that was sent right now to thee,The which can helen thee of thyn accesse, 1315If thou do forth-with al thy besinesse.'`Ye, through the might of god!' quod Troilus.And Pandarus gan him the lettre take,And seyde, `Pardee, god hath holpen us;Have here a light, and loke on al this blake.' 1320But ofte gan the herte glade and quakeOf Troilus, whyl that he gan it rede,So as the wordes yave him hope or drede.But fynally, he took al for the besteThat she him wroot, for somwhat he biheld 1325On which, him thoughte, he mighte his herte reste,Al covered she the wordes under sheld.Thus to the more worthy part he held,That, what for hope and Pandarus biheste,His grete wo for-yede he at the leste. 1330But as we may alday our-selven see,Through more wode or col, the more fyr;Right so encrees hope, of what it be,Therwith ful ofte encreseth eek desyr;Or, as an ook cometh of a litel spyr, 1335So through this lettre, which that she him sente,Encresen gan desyr, of which he brente.Wherfore I seye alwey, that day and nightThis Troilus gan to desiren moreThan he dide erst, thurgh hope, and dide his might 1340To pressen on, as by Pandarus lore,And wryten to hir of his sorwes soreFro day to day; he leet it not refreyde,That by Pandare he wroot somwhat or seyde;And dide also his othere observaunces 1345That to a lovere longeth in this cas;And, after that these dees turnede on chaunces,So was he outher glad or seyde `Allas!'And held after his gestes ay his pas;And aftir swiche answeres as he hadde, 1350So were his dayes sory outher gladde.But to Pandare alwey was his recours,And pitously gan ay til him to pleyne,And him bisoughte of rede and som socours;And Pandarus, that sey his wode peyne, 1355Wex wel neigh deed for routhe, sooth to seyne,And bisily with al his herte casteSom of his wo to sleen, and that as faste;And seyde, `Lord, and freend, and brother dere,God woot that thy disese dooth me wo. 1360But woltow stinten al this woful chere,And, by my trouthe, or it be dayes two,And god to-forn, yet shal I shape it so,That thou shalt come in-to a certayn place,Ther-as thou mayst thy-self hir preye of grace. 1365`And certainly, I noot if thou it wost,But tho that been expert in love it seye,It is oon of the thinges that furthereth most,A man to have a leyser for to preye,And siker place his wo for to biwreye; 1370For in good herte it moot som routhe impresse,To here and see the giltles in distresse.`Paraunter thenkestow: though it be soThat kinde wolde doon hir to biginneTo han a maner routhe up-on my wo, 1375Seyth Daunger, "Nay, thou shalt me never winne;So reuleth hir hir hertes goost with-inne,That, though she bende, yet she stant on rote;What in effect is this un-to my bote?"`Thenk here-ayeins, whan that the sturdy ook, 1380On which men hakketh ofte, for the nones,Receyved hath the happy falling strook,The grete sweigh doth it come al at ones,As doon these rokkes or these milne-stones.For swifter cours cometh thing that is of wighte, 1385Whan it descendeth, than don thinges lighte.`And reed that boweth doun for every blast,Ful lightly, cesse wind, it wol aryse;But so nil not an ook whan it is cast;It nedeth me nought thee longe to forbyse. 1390Men shal reioysen of a greet empryseAcheved wel, and stant with-outen doute,Al han men been the lenger ther-aboute.`But, Troilus, yet tel me, if thee lest,A thing now which that I shal axen thee; 1395Which is thy brother that thou lovest bestAs in thy verray hertes privetee?'`Y-wis, my brother Deiphebus,' quod he.`Now,' quod Pandare, `er houres twyes twelve,He shal thee ese, unwist of it him-selve. 1400`Now lat me allone, and werken as I may,'Quod he; and to Deiphebus wente he thoWhich hadde his lord and grete freend ben ay;Save Troilus, no man he lovede so.To telle in short, with-outen wordes mo, 1405Quod Pandarus, `I pray yow that ye beFreend to a cause which that toucheth me.'`Yis, pardee,' quod Deiphebus, `wel thow wost,In al that ever I may, and god to-fore,Al nere it but for man I love most, 1410My brother Troilus; but sey wherforeIt is; for sith that day that I was bore,I nas, ne never-mo to been I thinke,Ayeins a thing that mighte thee for-thinke.'Pandare gan him thonke, and to him seyde, 1415`Lo, sire, I have a lady in this toun,That is my nece, and called is Criseyde,Which some men wolden doon oppressioun,And wrongfully have hir possessioun:Wherfor I of your lordship yow biseche 1420To been our freend, with-oute more speche.'Deiphebus him answerde, `O, is not this,That thow spekest of to me thus straungely,Criseyda, my freend?' He seyde, `Yis.'`Than nedeth,' quod Deiphebus, `hardely, 1425Na-more to speke, for trusteth wel, that IWol be hir champioun with spore and yerde;I roughte nought though alle hir foos it herde.`But tel me how, thou that woost al this matere,How I might best avaylen? Now lat see.' 1430Quod Pandarus; `If ye, my lord so dere,Wolden as now don this honour to me,To preyen hir to-morwe, lo, that sheCome un-to yow hir pleyntes to devyse,Hir adversaries wolde of it agryse. 1435`And if I more dorste preye as now,And chargen yow to have so greet travayle,To han som of your bretheren here with yow,That mighten to hir cause bet avayle,Than, woot I wel, she mighte never fayle 1440For to be holpen, what at your instaunce,What with hir othere freendes governaunce.'Deiphebus, which that comen was, of kinde,To al honour and bountee to consente,Answerde, `It shal be doon; and I can finde 1445Yet gretter help to this in myn entente.What wolt thow seyn, if I for Eleyne senteTo speke of this? I trowe it be the beste;For she may leden Paris as hir leste.`Of Ector, which that is my lord, my brother, 1450It nedeth nought to preye him freend to be;For I have herd him, o tyme and eek other,Speke of Criseyde swich honour, that heMay seyn no bet, swich hap to him hath she.It nedeth nought his helpes for to crave; 1455He shal be swich, right as we wole him have.`Spek thou thy-self also to TroilusOn my bihalve, and pray him with us dyne.'`Sire, al this shal be doon,' quod Pandarus;And took his leve, and never gan to fyne, 1460But to his neces hous, as streyt as lyne,He com; and fond hir fro the mete aryse;And sette him doun, and spak right in this wyse.He seyde, `O veray god, so have I ronne!Lo, nece myn, see ye nought how I swete? 1465I noot whether ye the more thank me conne.Be ye nought war how that fals PolipheteIs now aboute eft-sones for to plete,And bringe on yow advocacyes newe?'`I? No,' quod she, and chaunged al hir hewe. 1470`What is he more aboute, me to dreccheAnd doon me wrong? What shal I do, allas?Yet of him-self no-thing ne wolde I recche,Nere it for Antenor and Eneas,That been his freendes in swich maner cas; 1475But, for the love of god, myn uncle dere,No fors of that; lat him have al y-fere;`With-outen that I have ynough for us.'`Nay,' quod Pandare, `it shal no-thing be so.For I have been right now at Deiphebus, 1480And Ector, and myne othere lordes mo,And shortly maked eche of hem his fo;That, by my thrift, he shal it never winneFor ought he can, whan that so he biginne.'And as they casten what was best to done, 1485Deiphebus, of his owene curtasye,Com hir to preye, in his propre persone,To holde him on the morwe companyeAt diner, which she nolde not denye,But goodly gan to his preyere obeye. 1490He thonked hir, and wente up-on his weye.Whanne this was doon, this Pandare up a-noon,To telle in short, and forth gan for to wendeTo Troilus, as stille as any stoon;And al this thing he tolde him, word and ende; 1495And how that he Deiphebus gan to blende;And seyde him, `Now is tyme, if that thou conne,To bere thee wel to-morwe, and al is wonne.`Now spek, now prey, now pitously compleyne;Lat not for nyce shame, or drede, or slouthe; 1500Som-tyme a man mot telle his owene peyne;Bileve it, and she shal han on thee routhe;Thou shalt be saved by thy feyth, in trouthe.But wel wot I, thou art now in a drede;And what it is, I leye, I can arede. 1505`Thow thinkest now, "How sholde I doon al this?For by my cheres mosten folk aspye,That for hir love is that I fare a-mis;Yet hadde I lever unwist for sorwe dye."Now thenk not so, for thou dost greet folye. 1510For I right now have founden o manereOf sleighte, for to coveren al thy chere.`Thow shalt gon over night, and that as blyve,Un-to Deiphebus hous, as thee to pleye,Thy maladye a-wey the bet to dryve, 1515For-why thou semest syk, soth for to seye.Sone after that, doun in thy bed thee leye,And sey, thow mayst no lenger up endure,And ly right there, and byde thyn aventure.`Sey that thy fever is wont thee for to take 1520The same tyme, and lasten til a-morwe;And lat see now how wel thou canst it make,For, par-dee, syk is he that is in sorwe.Go now, farwel! And, Venus here to borwe,I hope, and thou this purpos holde ferme, 1525Thy grace she shal fully ther conferme.'Quod Troilus, `Y-wis, thou nedeleesConseylest me, that sykliche I me feyne,For I am syk in ernest, doutelees,So that wel neigh I sterve for the peyne.' 1530Quod Pandarus, `Thou shalt the bettre pleyne,And hast the lasse need to countrefete;For him men demen hoot that men seen swete.`Lo, holde thee at thy triste cloos, and IShal wel the deer un-to thy bowe dryve.' 1535Therwith he took his leve al softely,And Troilus to paleys wente blyve.So glad ne was he never in al his lyve;And to Pandarus reed gan al assente,And to Deiphebus hous at night he wente. 1540What nedeth yow to tellen al the chereThat Deiphebus un-to his brother made,Or his accesse, or his siklych manere,How men gan him with clothes for to lade,Whan he was leyd, and how men wolde him glade? 1545But al for nought; he held forth ay the wyseThat ye han herd Pandare er this devyse.But certeyn is, er Troilus him leyde,Deiphebus had him prayed, over night,To been a freend and helping to Criseyde. 1550God woot, that he it grauntede anon-right,To been hir fulle freend with al his might.But swich a nede was to preye him thenne,As for to bidde a wood man for to renne.The morwen com, and neighen gan the tyme 1555Of meel-tyd, that the faire quene EleyneShoop hir to been, an houre after the pryme,With Deiphebus, to whom she nolde feyne;But as his suster, hoomly, sooth to seyne,She com to diner in hir playn entente. 1560But god and Pandare wiste al what this mente.Com eek Criseyde, al innocent of this,Antigone, hir sister Tarbe also;But flee we now prolixitee best is,For love of god, and lat us faste go 1565Right to the effect, with-oute tales mo,Why al this folk assembled in this place;And lat us of hir saluinges pace.Gret honour dide hem Deiphebus, certeyn,And fedde hem wel with al that mighte lyke. 1570But ever-more, `Allas!' was his refreyn,`My goode brother Troilus, the syke,Lyth yet"—and therwith-al he gan to syke;And after that, he peyned him to gladeHem as he mighte, and chere good he made. 1575Compleyned eek Eleyne of his syknesseSo feithfully, that pitee was to here,And every wight gan waxen for accesseA leche anoon, and seyde, `In this manereMen curen folk; this charme I wol yow lere.' 1580But ther sat oon, al list hir nought to teche,That thoughte, best coude I yet been his leche.After compleynt, him gonnen they to preyse,As folk don yet, whan som wight hath bigonneTo preyse a man, and up with prys him reyse 1585A thousand fold yet hyer than the sonne: —`He is, he can, that fewe lordes conne.'And Pandarus, of that they wolde afferme,He not for-gat hir preysing to conferme.Herde al this thing Criseyde wel y-nough, 1590And every word gan for to notifye;For which with sobre chere hir herte lough;For who is that ne wolde hir glorifye,To mowen swich a knight don live or dye?But al passe I, lest ye to longe dwelle; 1595For for o fyn is al that ever I telle.The tyme com, fro diner for to ryse,And, as hem oughte, arisen everychoon,And gonne a while of this and that devyse.But Pandarus brak al this speche anoon, 1600And seyde to Deiphebus, `Wole ye goon,If youre wille be, as I yow preyde,To speke here of the nedes of Criseyde?'Eleyne, which that by the hond hir held,Took first the tale, and seyde, `Go we blyve;' 1605And goodly on Criseyde she biheld,And seyde, `Ioves lat him never thryve,That dooth yow harm, and bringe him sone of lyve!And yeve me sorwe, but he shal it rewe,If that I may, and alle folk be trewe.' 1610`Tel thou thy neces cas,' quod DeiphebusTo Pandarus, `for thou canst best it telle.' —`My lordes and my ladyes, it stant thus;What sholde I lenger,' quod he, `do yow dwelle?'He rong hem out a proces lyk a belle, 1615Up-on hir fo, that highte Poliphete,So heynous, that men mighte on it spete.Answerde of this ech worse of hem than other,And Poliphete they gonnen thus to warien,`An-honged be swich oon, were he my brother; 1620And so he shal, for it ne may not varien.'What sholde I lenger in this tale tarien?Pleynly, alle at ones, they hir hightenTo been hir helpe in al that ever they mighten.Spak than Eleyne, and seyde, `Pandarus, 1625Woot ought my lord, my brother, this matere,I mene, Ector? Or woot it Troilus?'He seyde, `Ye, but wole ye now me here?Me thinketh this, sith Troilus is here,It were good, if that ye wolde assente, 1630She tolde hir-self him al this, er she wente.`For he wole have the more hir grief at herte,By cause, lo, that she a lady is;And, by your leve, I wol but right in sterte,And do yow wite, and that anoon, y-wis, 1635If that he slepe, or wole ought here of this.'And in he lepte, and seyde him in his ere,`God have thy soule, y-brought have I thy bere!'To smylen of this gan tho Troilus,And Pandarus, with-oute rekeninge, 1640Out wente anoon to Eleyne and Deiphebus,And seyde hem, `So there be no taryinge,Ne more pres, he wol wel that ye bringeCriseyda, my lady, that is here;And as he may enduren, he wole here. 1645`But wel ye woot, the chaumbre is but lyte,And fewe folk may lightly make it warm;Now loketh ye, (for I wol have no wyte,To bringe in prees that mighte doon him harmOr him disesen, for my bettre arm), 1650Wher it be bet she byde til eft-sones;Now loketh ye, that knowen what to doon is.`I sey for me, best is, as I can knowe,That no wight in ne wente but ye tweye,But it were I, for I can, in a throwe, 1655Reherce hir cas unlyk that she can seye;And after this, she may him ones preyeTo ben good lord, in short, and take hir leve;This may not muchel of his ese him reve.`And eek, for she is straunge, he wol forbere 1660His ese, which that him thar nought for yow;Eek other thing that toucheth not to here,He wol me telle, I woot it wel right now,That secret is, and for the tounes prow.'And they, that no-thing knewe of his entente, 1665With-oute more, to Troilus in they wente.Eleyne, in al hir goodly softe wyse,Gan him saluwe, and womanly to pleye,And seyde, `Ywis, ye moste alweyes aryse!Now fayre brother, beth al hool, I preye!' 1670And gan hir arm right over his sholder leye,And him with al hir wit to recomforte;As she best coude, she gan him to disporte.So after this quod she, `We yow biseke,My dere brother, Deiphebus and I, 1675For love of god, and so doth Pandare eke,To been good lord and freend, right hertely,Un-to Criseyde, which that certeinlyReceyveth wrong, as woot wel here Pandare,That can hir cas wel bet than I declare.' 1680This Pandarus gan newe his tunge affyle,And al hir cas reherce, and that anoon;Whan it was seyd, sone after, in a whyle,Quod Troilus, `As sone as I may goon,I wol right fayn with al my might ben oon, 1685Have god my trouthe, hir cause to sustene.'`Good thrift have ye,' quod Eleyne the quene.Quod Pandarus, `And it your wille beThat she may take hir leve, er that she go?'`O, elles god for-bede,' tho quod he, 1690`If that she vouche sauf for to do so.'And with that word quod Troilus, `Ye two,Deiphebus, and my suster leef and dere,To yow have I to speke of o matere,`To been avysed by your reed the bettre': — 1695And fond, as hap was, at his beddes heed,The copie of a tretis and a lettre,That Ector hadde him sent to axen reed,If swich a man was worthy to ben deed,Woot I nought who; but in a grisly wyse 1700He preyede hem anoon on it avyse.Deiphebus gan this lettre to unfoldeIn ernest greet; so did Eleyne the quene;And rominge outward, fast it gan biholde,Downward a steyre, in-to an herber grene. 1705This ilke thing they redden hem bi-twene;And largely, the mountaunce of an houre,Thei gonne on it to reden and to poure.Now lat hem rede, and turne we anoonTo Pandarus, that gan ful faste prye 1710That al was wel, and out he gan to goonIn-to the grete chambre, and that in hye,And seyde, `God save al this companye!Com, nece myn; my lady quene EleyneAbydeth yow, and eek my lordes tweyne. 1715`Rys, take with yow your nece Antigone,Or whom yow list, or no fors, hardily;The lesse prees, the bet; com forth with me,And loke that ye thonke humblelyHem alle three, and, whan ye may goodly 1720Your tyme y-see, taketh of hem your leve,Lest we to longe his restes him bireve.'Al innocent of Pandarus entente,Quod tho Criseyde, `Go we, uncle dere';And arm in arm inward with him she wente, 1725Avysed wel hir wordes and hir chere;And Pandarus, in ernestful manere,Seyde, `Alle folk, for goddes love, I preye,Stinteth right here, and softely yow pleye.`Aviseth yow what folk ben here with-inne, 1730And in what plyt oon is, god him amende!And inward thus ful softely biginne;Nece, I conjure and heighly yow defende,On his half, which that sowle us alle sende,And in the vertue of corounes tweyne, 1735Slee nought this man, that hath for yow this peyne!`Fy on the devel! Thenk which oon he is,And in what plyt he lyth; com of anoon;Thenk al swich taried tyd, but lost it nis!That wol ye bothe seyn, whan ye ben oon. 1740Secoundelich, ther yet devyneth noonUp-on yow two; come of now, if ye conne;Whyl folk is blent, lo, al the tyme is wonne!`In titering, and pursuite, and delayes,The folk devyne at wagginge of a stree; 1745And though ye wolde han after merye dayes,Than dar ye nought, and why? For she, and sheSpak swich a word; thus loked he, and he;Lest tyme I loste, I dar not with yow dele;Com of therfore, and bringeth him to hele.' 1750But now to yow, ye lovers that ben here,Was Troilus nought in a cankedort,That lay, and mighte whispringe of hem here,And thoughte, `O lord, right now renneth my sortFully to dye, or han anoon comfort'; 1755And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preyeOf love; O mighty god, what shal he seye?Explicit Secundus Liber.