The works of our ancient, learned, & excellent English poet, Jeffrey Chaucer as they have lately been compar'd with the best manuscripts, and several things added, never before in print : to which is adjoyn'd The story of the siege of Thebes, by John Lidgate ... : together with The life of Chaucer, shewing his countrey, parentage, education, marriage, children, revenues, service, reward, friends, books, death : also a table, wherein the old and obscure words in Chaucer are explained, and such words ... that either are, by nature or derivation, Arabick, Greek, Latine, Italian, French, Dutch, or Saxon, mark'd with particular notes for the better understanding of their original.

Incipit liber quartus.

LIgging in host, as I have said ere this, The Greekes strong, about Troy toun, Befell, that when that Phebus shining is Vpon the breast of Hercules Lion, That Hector, with many a bold Baron Cast on a day with Greekes for to fight, As he was wont, to greve hem what he miʒt.

Not I how long or short it was bitwene This purpose, & that day they fighten ment, But on a day well armed bright and shene, Hector and many a worthy knight out went With speare in hond, and big bowes bent, And in the berde withouten lenger lette, Her fomen in the field anone hem mette.

The long day with speares sharpe iground With arrows, darts, swerds, and maces fell, They fight, & bringen horse & man to ground, And with her axes out the braines quell, But in the last shoure, sooth to tell, The folke of Troy hem selven so misleden, That with y^• worse at night home they fleden.

At which day was taken Anthenor, Maugre Polimidas, or Monesteo, Xantippe, Sarpedon, Palestinor, Polite, or eke the Troyan dan Rupheo, And other lasse folke, as Phebuseo, So that for harm that day the folk of Troy Dreden to lese a great part of her ioy.

Of Priamus was yeve at Grekes request A time of truce, and tho they gonnen trete Her prisoners to chaungen most and lest, And for the surplus yeven sommes grete, This thing anon was couth in every strete, Both in thassiege, in toune, and every where, And with the first it came to Calcas ere.

When Calcas knew this tretise should hold In consistorie among the Greekes soone He gan in thringe, forth with lords old, And set him there as he was wont to done, And with a chaunged face hem bade a boone For love of God, to done that reverence, To stinten noise, and yeve him audience.

Then said he thus, lo lords mine I was Troyan, as it is knowen out of drede, And if that you remember, I am Calcas, That alderfirst yave comfort to your nede, And told well how that you should spede, For dredelesse through you shall in a stound Ben Troy ibrent, & beaten doun to ground.

And in what forme, or in w^t manner wise This toun to shend, and all your lust atcheve, Ye have ere this well herde me devise: This know ye my lordes, as I leve, And for the Greekes weren me so leve, I came my selfe in my proper persone To reach in this how you was best to done.

Having vnto my treasour, ne my rent, Right no regard in respect of your ease, Thus all my good I left, and to you went, Wening in this you lordes for to please, But all that losse ne doth me no disease, I vouchsafe, as wisely have I ioy, For you to lese all that I have in Troy.

Save of a doughter that I left, alas, Sleeping at home, when out of Troy I stert, O sterne, O cruell father that I was, How might I have in that so hard an hert? Alas that I ne had brought her in my shert, For sorow of which I wol nat live to morow, But if ye lordes rew vpon my sorow.

For because that I saw no time ere now Her to deliver, iche holden have my pees, But now or never, if that it like you, I may her have right now doubtlees O helpe and grace, among all this prees Rew on this old caitife in distresse, Sith I through you have all this hevinesse.

Ye have now caught, and fettred in prison Troyans inow, and if your willes be, My child with one may have redemption, Now for the love of God, and of bounte, One of so fele alas, so yefe him me, What need were it this praier for to werne, Sith ye shull have both folk & toun as yerne.

On perill of my life I shall nat lie, Apollo hath me told full faithfully, I have eke found by astronomie, By sort, and by augurie truely, And dare well say the time is fast by, That fire & flambe on all the toun shall sprede, And thus shall Troy turne to ashen dede.

For certaine, Phebus and Neptunus both That makeden the walles of the toun, Ben with the folke of Troy alway so wroth, That they woll bring it to confusioun Right in despite of king Laomedoun, Because he nolde paien hem her hire, The toune of Troy shall ben set on fire.

Telling his tale alway this old grey, Humble in his speech and looking eke, The salt teares from his eyen twey Full fast ronnen doune by either cheke, So long he gan of succour hem beseke, That for to heale him of his sorowes sore, They gave him Antenor withouten more.

But who was glad inough, but Calcas tho, And of this thing full soone his nedes leide On hem that shoulden for the treatise go And hem for Antenor full ofte preide, To bringen home king Thoas and Creseide, And when Priam his safegard sent, Thembassadours to Troy streight they went.

The cause ytold of her comming, the old Priam the king, full soone in generall, Let here vpon his parliment hold, Of which theffect rehearsen you I shall, Thembassadours ben answerde for finall, The eschaunge of prisoners, and all this nede Hem liketh well, and forth in they procede.

This Troilus was present in the place, When asked was for Antenor Creseide, For which full sone chaungen gan his face, As he that with tho wordes well nigh deide, But nathelesse he no word to it seide, Lest men should his affection espie, With mannes hert he gan his sorowes drie.

And full of anguish and of gresly drede, Abode what other lords would to it sey, And if they would graunt, as God forbede, Theschange of her, then thought he thing twey: First, how to save her honour, & w^t wey

He might best theschaunge of her with stond, Full fast he cast how all this might stond.

Love him made all prest to done her bide, And rather dien than she should go, But Reason said him on that other side, Withouten assent of her do nat so, Lest for thy werke she would be thy so, And saine, y^• through thy medling is yblow Your brother love, there it was noterst know.

For which he gan deliberen for the best, And though the lords would that she went, He would let hem graunt what hem lest, And tell his lady first what that they ment, And when that she had said him her entent, Thereafter would he worken also blive, Tho all the world ayen it wolde strive.

Hector, which that well the Greekes herd, For Antenor how they would have Creseide, Gan it withstond, and soberly answerd: Sirs, she nis no prisoner (he seide) I not on you who that this charge leide, But on my part, ye may estsoones hem tell, We useli here no women for to sell.

The noise of people up siert then at••nes, As brimme as blase of straw iset on fire, For infortune it would for the nones, They shoulden her confusion desire: Hector (qd. they) w^t ghost may you enspire This women thus in shild, and done us ••ese Dan Antenore, a wrong way now ye chese.

That is so wise, and eke so bold baroun, And we have need of folke, as men may see, He is one of the greatest of this toun: O Hector, lette thy fantasies bee, O king Priam (qd. they) thus segge wee, That all our voice is to forgone Creseide, And to delive Antenor they preide.

O Iuvenall lord, true is thy sentence, That little wenen folke what is to yerue, That they ne finden in her desire offence, For cloud of errour ne lette hem discerne What best is, & lo, here ensample as yerne: These folke desiren now deliverance Of Antenor, y^• brought hem to mischaunce.

For he was after traitour to the toun Of Troy alas, they quitte him out to rathe, O nice world, lo thy discretioun, Creseide, which that never did hem scathe, Shall now no lenger in her blisse bathe, But Antenor, he shall come home to toun, And she shall out, thus said heere and houn.

For which delibered was by parliment, For Antenor to yeelden out Creseide, And it pronounced by the president, Though that Hector nay full oft praid, And finally, what wight that it withsaid, It was for naught, it must ben, and should, For substaunce of the Parliment it would.

Departed out of the parliment echone, This Troilus, without words mo, Vnto his chamber spedde him fast alone, But if it were a man of his or two, The which he bad out faste for to go, Because he would slepen, as he said, And hastely upon his bedde him laid.

And as in Winter, leaves ben birast Ech after other, till trees he hare, So that there nis but barke & branch ilast, Lithe Troilus, biraft of ech welfare, Ibounden in the blacke barke of care, Disposed wode out of his witte to breide, So sore him sate the chaunging of Creseide.

He rist him up, and every dore he shette, And window eke, & tho this sorowfull man Vpon his beddes side doune him sette Full like a dead image, pale and wan, And in his breast the heaped wo began Out brust, and he to worken in this wise In his woodnesse, as I shall you devise.

Right as the wild Bull beginneth spring Now here, now there, idarted to the hert, And of his death roreth, in complaining, Right so gan he about the chamber stert, Smiring his breast aye with his fistes smert, His head to the wall, his body to y^• ground, Foll oft he swapt, himselven to confound.

His eyen two for pity of his hert, Out stremeden as swift as welles twey, The high sobs of his sorrowes smert His speech him reft, unnethes might he sey, O death alas, why nilt thou do me dey? Accursed by that day which that nature Shope me to ben a lives creature.

But after when the fury and all the rage Which that his heart twist, and fast threst, By length of time somewhat gan assuage, Vpon his bed he laid him doun to rest, But tho begon his teares more out to brest, That wonder is the body may suffise To halfe this wo, which that I you devise.

Then said he thus: Fortune alas y^• while What have I done? what have I thee agilt? How mightest thou for routhe me begile? Is there no grace? and shall I thus be spilt? Shall thus Creseide away for y^• thou wilt? Alas, how mightest thou in thine hart find To ben to me thus cruell and unkind?

Have I thee nat honoured all my live As thou well wotest, above the Gods all? Why wilt thou me fro ioy thus deprive? O Troilus, what may men now thee call, But wretch of wretches, out of honour fall Into misery, in which I woll bewaile Creseide alas, till that the breath me faile.

Alas Fortune, if that my life in joy Displeased had unto thy foule Envie,

Why ne haddest thou my father king of Troy Biraft the life, or done my brethren die, Or slaine my selfe, y^• thus complaine & crie, I combre world, that may of nothing serve, But ever dye, and never fully sterve.

If that Creseide alone were me laft, Naughtrauʒt I whider thou woldst me stere, And her alas, then hast thou me byraft: But evermore, lo this is thy manere, To reve a wight that most is to him dere, To preve in that thy gierfull violence, Thus am I lost, there helpeth no defence.

O very Lord, O love, O God alas, That knowest best mine hert & al my thought, What shal my sorowfull life done in this caas, If I to go that I so dere have bought, Sens ye Creseide & me have fully brought Into your grace, and both our hearts sealed, How may ye suffer alas it be repealed.

What I may done, I shal while I may dure On live, in turment and in cruell paine, This infortune, or this disaventure, Alone as I was borne I woll complaine, Ne never woll I seene it shine or raine, But end I woll as Edippe in derkenesse My sorrowfull life, and dien in distresse.

O wery ghost, that errest to and fro, Why 〈◊〉〈◊〉 thou flien out of the wofullest Body, that ever might on ground go? O soule, lurking in this wofull neste, Fly forthout mine hart, and let it breste, And follow alway Creseide thy lady dere, Thy right place is now no lenger here.

O wofull eien two, sens your disport Was all to seene Creseides eyen bright, What shall ye done, but for my discomfort Stoden for naught, & wepen out your sight, Sens she is queint, y^• wont was you to light, * In veine from this forth have I eyen twey I formed, sens your vertue is awey.

O my Creseide, O lady soveraine, Of this wofull soule that thus crieth, Who shall now yeven comfort to thy paine, Alas, no wight, but when mine hert dieth, My spirit, which that so unto you hieth, Recei••e in gree, for that shall aye you serve, For thy no force is, though the body sterve.

O ye lovers, that high upon the whele Ben sette of Fortune in good aventure, God lene that ye finden aye love of stele, And long more your life in joy endure, But when ye comen by my sepulture, Remembreth that your fellow resteth there, For I loved eke, though I unworthy were.

O old unholsome and mislived man, Calcas I meane, alas what eiled thee To 〈◊〉〈◊〉 a Greek, sens thou art borne Trojan? O Calcas, which that wolt my bane be, In cursed time was thou borne for me, As would blisfull Iove for his joy, That I thee had where I would in Troy.

A thousand sighes hotter than the glede, Out of his breast, each after other went, Medled with plaint new, his wo to fede, For which his wofull teares never stent, And shortly so his sorowes him to rent, And wore so mate, that joy or pennaunce He feeleth none, but heth in a traunce.

Panoare, which that in the parliment Had heatd w^t every Lord and burgeis seid, And how full graunted was by one assent, For Antenor to yelden o••t Creseid: Gan well nigh wood out of his wit to breid, So that for wo he niste what he ment, But in a 〈…〉〈…〉 went.

A certaine knight, that for the 〈…〉〈…〉 The chamber dore, undid it him anone, And Pandare, that full tenderly wept, Into the derke chamber as still as stone, Toward the bedde gan softly to goue, So confuse, that he ••••st what to say, For very wo, his wit was nigh away.

And with chere and leeking all to torne, For sorow of this, & with his armes folden, He stood this wofull Troilus beforne, And on his pitous face he gan beholden, But so oft gan his heart colden, Seeing his friend in wo, whose heavinesse His heart slough, as thought him for distresse.

This wofull wight, this Troilus y^• felt His friend Pandare icomen him to see, Gan as the snow ayenst the sunne melt, For which this wofull Pandare of pite Gan for to weepe as tenderly as he: And speechlesse thus ben these ilke twey, That neither might for sorow o word sey.

But at the last, this wofull Troilus, Nigh dead for smert, gan bresten out to rore, And with a sorowfull noise he said thus Among his sobs and his sighes sore, Lo Pandare I am dead withouten more, Hast thou nat heard at parliment he seide, For Antenor how lost is my Creseide.

This Pandare full dead and pale of hew, Full pitously answerde, and said yes, As wisely were it false as it is trew, That I have heard, and wote all how it is, O mercy God, who would have trowed this, Who would have wend, y^• in so little a throw Fortune our joy would overthrow.

For in this world there is no creature, As to my dome, that ever saw ruine Stranger than this through case or aventure, But who may all eschue or all devine, Such is this world, for thy I thus define: * Ne trust no wight to find in Fortune Aye property, her yeftes ben commune.

But tell me this, why thou art now so mad To sorrowen thus, why list thou in this wise, Sens thy desire all holly hast thou had, So that by right it ought inough suffise, But I that never felt in my servise A friendly chere or looking of an eie, Let me thus wepe and wailen till I die.

And over al this, as thou wel wost thy selve, This toune is full of ladies all about, And to my dome, falcer than such twelve As ever she was, shal I finden in some rout, Ye one or twey, withouten any dout: For thy be glade mine owne dere brother, If she be lost, we shall recover another.

* What God forbid alway y^• ech pleasaunce In a thing were, and in none other wight, If one can sing, another can well daunce, If this be goodly, she is glad and light, And this is faire, and that can good aright, Ech for his vertue holden is for dere, Both herones and faucon for rivere.

And eke as writ Zansis, that was full wise, * The new love out chaseth oft the old: And vpon new case lieth new avise, Thinke eke thy selfe to saven art thou hold, Such fire by processe shall of kind cold, For sens it is but casuell pleasaunce, Some case shall put it out of remembraunce.

* For also sure as day commeth after night, The new love, labour or other wo, Or els selde seeing of a wight, Done old affections all overgo, And for thy part, thou shalt haue one of tho To abredgs with thy bitter pains smart, Absence of her shall driue her out of hart.

These words saied he for the nones all To helpe his friend, least he for sorow deide, For doubtlesse to doen his wo to fall, He raught nat what vnthrift that he seide: But Troilus that nigh for sorow deide, Tooke little hede of all that ever he ment, One eare it heard, at the other out it went.

But at y^• last he answerd, and said friend, This lechcraft, or dealed thus to be, Were well fitting, if that I were a fiend, To traien a wight, that true is vnto me, I pray God let this counsaile never ithee But doe me rather sterue anon right here, Ere thus I doen, as thou me wouldest lere.

She that I serue iwis, what so thou sey, To whom mine hart enhabite is by right, Shall have me holly hers, till that I dey, For Pandarus, sens I have trouth her hight, I woll nat ben vntrue for no wight, But as her man I woll aye live and sterve, And never none other creature serve.

And there thou saiest thou shalt as fair find As she, let be, make no comparison, To creature iformed here by kind, O leve Pandare, in conclusion, I woll nat been of thine opinion Touching all this, for which I thee beseech, So hold thy peace, thou slaest me with thy speech.

Thou biddest me I should love another All freshly new, and let Creseide go, It lithe nat in my power leve brother, And though I might, yet would I nat do so, * But canst thou plaien raket to and fro, * Nettle in dock out, now this, now y^• Pan∣dare, Now foule fall her for thy wo, y^• care.

Thou farest eke by me Pandarus, As he, that when a wight is wo bigon, He commeth to him apace, & saith right thus, Thinke not on smart, & thou shalt feele none, Thou maiest me first transmewen in a stone, And reve me my passions all, Or thou so lightly doe my wo to fall.

The death may well out of my brest depart The life, so long may this sorow mine: But fro my soule shall Creseides dart Out nevermore, but doune with Proserpine When I am dead, I woll won in pine, And there I woll eternally complain My wo, and how that twinned be we twain.

Thou hast here made an argument full fine, How that it should lasse paine be Creseide to forgone, for she was mine, And lived in ease and in felicite: Why gabbest thou, that saidest vnto me, * That him is wors that is fro wele ithrow, Than he had erst none of that wele know.

But tel me now, sen y^• thee thinketh so light To chaungen so in love aye to and fro, Why hast thou nat doen busily thy might To chaungen her, y^• doth thee all thy wo? Why nilt thou let her fro thine heart go? Why nilt thou love another lady swete, That may thine heart setten in quiete?

If thou hast had in love aye yet mischance, And canst it not out of thine hart drive, I that lived in lust and in pleasance With her, as much as creature on live, How would I that foryet, and that so blive, O where hast thou ben hid so long in mew, Thou canst so well and formeliche agrew.

Nay God wot, naught worth is al thy rede, For which, for what that ever may befall, Withouten words mo I woll ben dede, O death, that ender art of sorrowes all, Come now, sens I so oft after thee call, * For sely is that death, sooth sor to saine, That oft icleped, commeth & endeth paine.

Well wote I, while my life was in quiete, Ere thou me slue, I would have yeven hire, But now thy comming is to me so swete, That in this world I nothing so desire, O death, sens with this sorow I am a fire,

Thou either do me anon in teares drench, Or with thy cold stroke mine heart quench.

Sens y^• thou slaest so fele in sundry wise Ayenst her will, vnpraied day and night, Doe me at my request this servise, Deliver now the world, so doest thou right, Of me that am the wofullest wight That ever was, for time is that I sterve, Sens in this world of right nauʒt do I serve.

This Troilus in teares gan distill As licour out of Allambike full fast, And Pandarus gan hold his tongue still, And to the ground his eyen downe he cast, But nathelesse, thus thought he at last, What parde, rather than my fellow dey, Yet shall I somewhat more vnto him sey.

And said friend, sens thou hast such distresse, And sens thee list mine argumentes blame, Why nilt thy selven helpe doen redresse, And with thy manhood letten all this game, To rauish her, ne caust thou not for shame? And either let her out of toune fare, Or hold her still, and leave thy nice fare.

Art thou in Troy, and hast non hardiment To take a wight, which that loveth thee, And would her selven been of thine assent, Now is nat this a nice vanite, Rise vp anon, and let this weeping be, And sith thou art a man, for in this hour I woll been dead, or she shall ben our.

To this answerde him Troilus full soft, And saied, iwis my leve brother dere, All this have I my selfe yet thought full oft, And more thing than thou devisest here, But why this thing is laft, thou shalt wel here And when thou hast me yeven audience, Thereafter mayst thou tell all thy sentence.

First, sin thou wost this toun hath al this werre For ravishing of women so by might, It should not been suffced me to erre, As it stont now, ne done so great vnright, I should have also blame of every wight, My fathers graunt if that I so withstood, Sens she is chaunged for the tounes good.

I have eke thought, so it were her assent, To aske her of my father of his grace, Then thinke I, this were her accusement, Sens well I wot I may her nat purchace, For sens my father in so high a place As Parliment, hath her eschaunge ensealed, He nill for me his letter be repealed.

Yet drede I most her heart to perturbe With violence, if I doe such a game, For if I would it openly disturbe, It must be disclaunder to her name, And me were lever die than her diffame, As nolde God, but I should have Her honour, lever than my life to save.

Thus am I lost, for aught that I can see, For certaine is that I am her knight, I must her honour lever have than me In every case, as lover ought of right, Thus am I with desire and reason twight: Desire for to disturben her me redeth, And Reason nill not, so mine heart dredeth.

Thus weeping, that he could never cease, He said alas, how shall I wretche fare, For well fele I alway my love encrease, And hope is lasse and lasse Pandare, Encreasen eke the causes of my care, So welaway, why nill mine hart brest, For as in love there is but little rest.

Pandare answerde, friend thou mayst for me Done as thee list, but had I it so hote, And thine estate, she should go with me, Tho all this toun cried on this thing by note, I nolde set at all that noise a grote, * For when men have cried, then wol they roun, Eke wonder last but ix. deies never in toun.

Devine not in reason aye so deepe, Ne curtesly, but helpe thy selfe anone, Bet is that other than thy selven wepe, And namely, sens ye two ben al one, Rise vp, for by mine head she shall not gone, And rather ben in blame a little ifound, Than sterve here as a gnat withouten wound.

It is no shame vnto you, ne no vice, Her to withholden, that ye loveth most, Peraventure she might hold thee for nice, To letten her go thus vnto the Grekes hoste, * Think eke fortune, as well thy selven woste, Helpeth hardie man vnto his emprise, And weiueth wretches for her cowardise.

And though thy lady would alite her greve, Thou shalt thy self thy peace hereafter make, But as to me certaine I cannot leve, That she would it as now for evill take, Why should then for feare thine hart quake, Thinke how Paris hath, y^• is thy brother, A love, & why shal thou not have another?

And Troilus, o thing I dare thee swere, That if Creseide, which that is thy lefe, Now loveth thee, as well as thou dost here, God helpe me so, she nill not take a grefe, Though thou do bote anon in this mischefe, And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe, Then is she false, so love her well the lasse.

For thy, take hart, & think right as a knight, Through love is broken alday every law, Kith now somwhat thy courage & thy might, Have mercie on thy selfe for any awe, Let not this wretched wo thine hart gnawe, * But manly set the world on sixe and seven, And if thou die a martir, go to heaven.

I woll my selfe ben with thee at this dede, Though I and all my kin vpon a stound,

Should in a strete, as dogs, liggen dede, Through girt with many a bloodie wound, In every case I woll a friend be found, And if thee listeth here sterven as a wretch, Adieu, the devill speede him that retch.

This Troilus gan with the words quicken; And saied, friend, graunt mercie, I assent, But certainly, thou mayst nat so me pricken, Ne paine none ne may me so torment, That for no case it is not mine entent, At shorte wordes, though I dien should, To ravishen her, but if her selfe it would.

Why, so mean I (qd. Pandarus) al this day, But tell me then, hast thou her well assaid, That sorowest thus? & he answerde him nay. Wherofart thou (qd. Pandare) then dismaid, That noste not that she woll ben evill apaid To ravishen her, sens thou hast not ben there, But if that Iove told it in thine eare.

For thy, rise vp as naught ne were, anone, And wash thy face, & to the king thou wend, Or he may wondren whider thou art gone, Thou must with wisdome him and other blend, Or vpon case he may after thee send, Or thou beware, and shortly brother dere Be glad, and let me werke in this mattere.

For I shall shape it so, that sikerly Thou shalt this niʒt somtime in some manere Come speaken with thy Ladie prively, And by her wordes eke, as by her chere, Thou shalt full soone aperceive and well here Of her entent, and in this case the best, And fare now well, for in this point I rest.

The swifte fame, which that fals things Equall reporteth, like the things true, Was throghout Troy ifled, with prest wings, Fro man to man, and made his tale all new, How Calcas doughter with her bright hew, At Parliment without words more, I graunted was in chaunge of Antenore.

The which tale anon right as Creseide Had heard, she which y^• of her father rought (As in this case) right naught, ne when he deide Full busily to Iupiter besought Yeve him mischance, that this tretis brought: But shortly, least these tales sooth were, She durst at no wight asken it for fere.

As she that had her hart and all her mind On Troylus yset so wonder fast, That al this world ne might her love vnbind, Ne Troylus out of her heart cast, She would been his while y^• her life may last, And she thus brenneth both in love and drede, So that she nist what was best to rede.

But as men seene in toune, and all about, That women vsen her friends to visite, So to Creseide of women came a rout, For pitous ioy, and wenden her delite, And with her tales dere ynough a mite, These women, which that in the citie dwell, They set hem doune, and sayd as I shall tell.

(Qd. first that one) I am glad truely, Because of you, that shall your father see, Another sayd, iwis, so am not I, For all too little hath she with vs be: (Qd. tho the third) I hope iwis that she Shall bringen vs the peace on every side, That when she goth, almighty God her gide.

Tho wordes and tho womannish thinges She herd hem right as thogh she thencewere: For God it wote, her hart on other thing is, Although the body sat emong hem there, Her advertence is alway els where, For Troilus full fast her soule sought, Withouten word, on him alway she thought.

These women y^• thus wenden her to please, About naught gan all her tales spend, Such vanitie ne can done her none ease, As she that all this meane while brend Of other passion than they wend, So that she felt almost her heart die For wo, and werie of that companie.

For which might she no lenger restraine Her teares, they gan so vp to well, That gave signes of her bitter paine, In which her spirit was, and must dwell Remembering her from heaven vnto which hell She fallen was, sens she forgo the sight Of Troilus, and sorrowfully she sight.

And thilke fooles, sitting her about, Wende that she wept and sighed sore, Because that she should out of the rout Departen, and never play with hem more, And they that had knowen her of yore, See her so wepe, and thought it was kindnesse, And ech of hem wept eke for her distresse.

And bustly they gonnen her to comforten On thing God wot, on which she little thought, And with her tales wenden her disporten, And to be glad they ofte her besought, But such an ease therwith they her wrought, * Right as a man is eased for to fele, For ache of head, to clawen him on his hele.

But after all this nice vanitie, They took her leve, & home they wenten all, Creseide full of sorrowfull pitie, Into her chamber vp went out of the hall, And on her bedde she gan for dead to fall, In purpose never thence for to rise, And thus she wrought, as I shall you devise.

Her ownded hair, that sonnish was of hew, She rent, and eke her fingers long and smale She wrong full oft, and bad God on her rew, And with the death to do bote on her bale, Her hewe whylom bright, that tho was pale, Bare witnesse of her wo, and her constreint, And thus she spake, sobbing in her compleint.

Alas (qd. she) out of this religioun, I wofull wretch and infortuned wight, And borne in cursed constellatioun, Mote gon, & thus departen fro my knight, Wo worth alas, that ilke daies light, On which I saw him first with eyen twaine, That causeth me, and I him all this paine.

Therewith the teares from her eyen two Doune fell, as shoure in Aprill swithe, Her white breast she bet, and for the wo, After the death she cried a thousand sithe, Sens he that wont her wo was for to lithe, She mote forgone, for which disaventure She held her selfe a forlost creature.

She said, how shall he done and I also How should I live, if that I from him twin, O dere heart eke that I love so, Who shall that sorow slaen, that ye ben in? O Calcas, father, thine be all this sin: O mother mine, that cleped wert Argive, Wo worth that day y^t thou me bare on live.

To w^t fine should I live & sorowen thus, * How should a fish withouten water dure? What is Creseide worth from Troilus? How should a plant or lives creatur•• Live withouten his kind noriture, For which full oft a by word here I sey, * That rootlesse mote greene soone dey,

I shal done thus, sens neither sword ne dart, Dare I none handle, for the cruelte, That like day that I fro you depart, If sorow of that nill nat my bane be, Then shall no meat ne drinke come in me, Till I my soule out of my brest vnsheath, And thus my selven woll I done to death.

And Troilus, my clothes everychone Shull blacke ben, in tokening hart swete, That I am as out of this world agone, That wont was you to set in quiete, And of mine order aye till death me mete, The observaunce ever in your absence, Shall sorrow ben complaint and abstinence.

Mine hart and eke the woful ghost therein Bequeath I with your spirit to complaine Eternally, for they shall never twin, For though in yearth twinned be we twaine, Yet in the field of pitie, out of paine, That hight Elisos, shall we ben ifere, As Orpheus and Erudice his fere.

Thus heart mine, for Antenor alas I soone shall be chaunged, as I wene, But how shull ye done in this sorowfull caas, How shall your tender hart this sustene? But hart mine, foryet this sorow and tene, And me also, for soothly for to sey, So ye well fare, I retche not to dey.

How might it ever redde ben or isong The plaint that she made in her distresse, I not, but as for me my little tong If I discriven would her heavinesse, It should make her sorrow seeme lesse Than that it was, and childishly deface Her high complaint, and therefore I it pace.

Pandare, which that sent from Troilus Was vnto Creseide, as ye have heard devise, That for the best it was recorded thus, And he full glad to done him that servise, Vnto Creseide in a full secret wise, There as she lay in tourment and in rage, Came her to tell all holly his message.

And fond that she her selven gan to grete Full pitously, for with her salte teres, Her breast and face ibathed was full wete, Her mightie tresses of her sonnish heres Vnbroiden, hangen all about her eares, Which yave him very signe of mattire Of death, which that her hart gan desire.

When she him saw, she gan for sorrow anon Her tearie face atwixt her armes hide, For which this Pandare is so wo bigon, That in the hous he might vnneth abide, As he that felt sorrow on every side, For if Creseide had erst complained sore, Tho gan she plaine a thousand times more.

And in her aspre plaint, thus she seide: Pandare, first of joies more than two Was cause, causing vnto me Creseide, That now transmued ben in cruell wo, Whether shall I say to you welcome or no? That alderfirst me brought vnto servise Of love alas, that endeth in such wise.

* Endeth then love in wo? Ye or men lieth, And all worldly blisse, as thinketh me, The end of blisse aye sorrow it occupieth, And who troweth not that it so be, Let him vpon me wofull wretche see, That my selfe hate, and aye my birth curse, Feeling alway, fro wicke I go to worse.

Who so me seeth, he seeth sorow all atonis, Paine, tourment, plaint, wo and distresse, Out of my wofull body harme there none is, As langour, anguish, cruell bitternesse, Annoy, smart, drede, furie, and eke sicknesse, I trow iwis from heaven teares raine, For pitie of my aspre and cruell paine.

And thou my suster, full of discomfort, (Qd. Pandarus) what thinkest thou to do? Why ne hast thou to thy selven some resport? Why wilt thou thus thy selfe alas fordo? Leave all this werke, and take now heed to That I shall saine, & herken of good entent This message, y^• by me Troilus you sent.

Tourned her tho Creseide a wo making, So great, that it a death was for to see, Alas (qd. she) what wordes may ye bring, What woll my dere hert saine to mee, Which that I drede nevermore to see,

Woll he have plaint or teares ere I wend, I have ynough, if he thereafter send.

She was right such to seene in her visage, As is that wight that men on beare bind, Her face like of Paradis the image, Was all ichaunged in another kind, The play, y^• laughter men were wont to find On her, and eke her joyes everichone Ben fled, and thus lieth Creseide alone.

About her eyen two, a purpre ring Bitrent, in soothfast tokening of her paine, That to behold it was a deadly thing, For which Pandare might nat restraine The teares from his eyen for to raine, But nathelesse as he best might he seide From Troilus these wordes to Creseide.

Lo nece, I trow ye han heard all how The king with other Lordes for the best, Hath made eschaunge of Antenor and you, That cause is of this sorow and this vnrest, But how this case doth Troilus molest, This may none yearthly mans tongue say, For very wo, his wit is all away.

For which we have so sorowed, he and I, That into little it had vs both slaw, But through my counsaile this day finally, He somewhat is fro weeping withdraw, And seemeth me that he desireth faw With you to ben all might for to devise Remedie of this, if there were any wise.

This short & plain, theffect of my message, As ferforth as my wit can comprehend, For ye that ben of tourment in such rage, May to no long prologue as now entend. And herevpon ye may answere him send, And for the love of God my nece dere, So leave this wo or Troilus be here.

Great is my wo (qd. she) and sighed sore, As she that feeleth deadly sharpe distresse, But yet to me his sorrow is mokell more, That love him bet than he himselfe I gesse, Alas, for me hath he such hevinesse, Can he for me so pitously complaine, Iwis this sorow doubleth all my paine.

Greuous to me God wot is for to twin (Qd. she) but yet it harder is to me, To seene that sorrow which that he is in, For well wot I, it woll my bane be, And die I woll in certaine tho (qd. she) But bid him come, er deth y^• thus me threteth, Drive out y^• ghost which in mine hart beteth.

These wordes said, she on her armes two Fill gruffe, and gan to weepen pitously: (Qd. Pandarus) alas, why doe ye so, Sens ye well wote the time is fast by That he shall come, arise vp hastely, That he you nat biwopen thus ne find, But ye woll have him wode out of his mind.

For wist he that ye farde in this manere; He would himselfe slea: and if I wend To have this fare, he should not come here; For all the good that Priam may dispend: For to what fine he would anon pretend: That know I well, and for thy yet I sey, So leave this sorow, or plainly he woll dey.

And shapeth you his sorow for to abredge, And nat encrease, lefe nece swete, * Bethrather to him cause of plat than edge, And with some wisdome ye his sorrowes bete, What helpeth it to weepen full a strete, Or though ye both in salt teares dreint, * Bet is a time of cure aye than of pleint.

I meane thus, when I him hither bring, Sens ye be wise, and both of one assent, So shapeth how to distour be your going, Or come ayen soone after ye be went, Women been wise, in short avisement, And let seene how your wit shall availe, And what that I may helpe, it shall nat faile.

Go (qd. Creseide) and vncle truely. I shall done all my might me to restraine From weeping in his sight, and busily Him fo•• to glad, I shall done all my paine, And in my herte seeken every vaine, If to his sore there may ben founden salve, It shall nat lacke certaine on mine halve.

Goth Pandarus, and Troilus he sought, Till in a temple he found him all alone, As he that of his life no lenger rought, But to the pitous goddes everichone, Full tenderly he praid, and made his mone, To done him soone out of the world to pace, For wel he thought there was none other grace.

And shortly all the soothe for to sey, He was so fallen in dispaire that day, That vtterly he shope him for to dey, For right thus was his argument alway, He saied he nas but lorne, welaway, * For all y^t commeth, commeth by necessitie, Thus to ben lorne, it is my destinie.

For certainly, this wote I well he said, That foresight of devine purveiaunce Had seen alway me to forgone Creseide, * Sens God see the very thing out of doutance And hem disposeth through his ordinance, In his merites soothly for to be, As they shull comen by predestine.

But nathelesse alas, whom shall I leve, For there ben great clerkes many one, That destinie, through argumentes preve, And some saine, that nedely there is none, But that free choice is yeven vs everychone, * O welaway, so sigh arne clerkes old, That I not whose opinion I may hold.

* For some men sain, y^t God seeth all biforne, Ne God may nat deceived ben parde, Then mote it fallen, though men had it sworn, That purveiaunce hath seene beforne to be,

Wherefore I say, that from eterne if he Hath wist beforn our thought eke as our dede, * We have no free choice, as these clerks rede.

For other thought, nor other deed also, Might never been, but such as purueyaunce, Which may nat been deceived never mo, Hath feled biforne, withouten ignoraunce, * For if there might ben a variaunce To writhen out fro Gods purveying, There nere no prescience of thing comming.

But it were rather an opinion Vncertaine, and no stedfast foreseeing, * And certes that were an abusion, That God should have no perfite clere weting More than we men y^t have doutous wening, But such an errour vpon God to gesse. Were false, & foule, and wicked cursednesse.

Eke this is an opinion of some, That have her top ful high and smooth ishore, * They saine right thus, y^t thing is nat to come, For that the prescience hath seene before That it shall come, but they sain y^t therfore That it shall come, therefore y^e purveyaunce Wote it beforne withouten ignoraunce.

And in this manner this necessite Retourneth in his part contrary againe, For needfully behoueth it nat to be, That thilke things fallen in certaine * That ben purveied, but needfully as they saine Behoueth it that thinges which that fall, That they in certaine ben purveyed all.

I meane as though I laboured me in this, To inquire w^ch thing cause of w^ch thing be, * As whether that the prescience of God is The certaine cause of the necessite Of things that to comen be parde, Or if necessitie of thing comming, Because certaine of the purveying.

But now ne enforce I me not in shewing, How y^e order of y^e causes stant, but well wot I That it behoueth, that the befalling Of things wist before certainly, Be necessarie, all seeme it not thereby, That prescience put falling necessaire To thing to come, all fall it foule or faire.

For if there sit a man yond on a see, That by necessitie behoueth it, That certes thine opinion sooth be, That wenest or conjectest that he sit, And further over, now ayenward yet, Lo right so is it on the part contrarie, As thus, now hearken, for I woll nat tarie.

I say, that if the opinion of thee Be sooth for that he sit, then say I this, That he mote sitten by necessitee, And thus necessitie in either is, For in him nede of sitting is iwis, And in the nede of sooth, and thus forsoth There mote necessitie ben in you both.

But thou maist saine y^t man sit nat therfore, That thine opinion of his sitting sooth is, But rather for the man sate there before, Therefore is thine opinion sooth iwis, And I say though the cause of sooth of this Commeth of his sitting, yet necessitee As enterchaunged both in him and in thee.

Thus in the same wise out of doutaunce, I may well maken, as it seemeth me, My reasoning of Goddes purveyaunce, And of the thinges that to comen be, By whiche reason men may well isee, That thilke thinges that in earth yfall, That by necessitie they comen all.

For although that forthing shall come iwis Therefore is it purveyed certainely, Nat that it comnieth, for it purveyed is, Yet nathelesse behoueth it needfully, That thing to come be purveyed truly, Or els things that purveyed be, That they betiden by necessite.

And this suffiseth right ynough certaine, For to destroy our free choise everydell, But now is this abusion to saine, That falling of the thinges temporell, Is cause of the gods prescience eternell. Now truely that is a false sentence, That thing to com shuld cause his prescience.

What might I wene, & I had such a thought? But that God purveieth thing y^t is to come, For that it is to come, and els nought: So might I wene, that things all & some, That whylome ben befall and overcome, Ben cause of thilke soveraine purveyaunce, That forwote all, withouten ignoraunce.

And over all this, yet say I more thereto, That right as when I wote there is a thing, Iwis that thing mote needfully be so, Eke right so, when I wot a thing comming, So mote it come, and thus they befalling Of things that ben wist before the tide, They mowe not ben eschewed on no side.

Then said he thus, almighty Iove in trone, That wotest of all this thing y^e soothfastnesse, Rew on my sorrow and do me dien sone, Or bring Creseide and me fro this distresse. And while he was in all this heavinesse, Disputing with himselfe in this matere, Came Pandare in, and said as ye may here.

O mighty God (qd. Pandarus) in trone, Eigh, who saw ever a wise man faren so? Why Troilus, what thinkest thou to done? Hast thou such lust to ben thine owne fo? What parde, yet is nat Creseide ago, Why list theé so thy selfe fordone for drede, That in thine head thine eyen semen dede.

Hast thou nat lived many a yere beforne Withouten her, and farde full well at ease?

Art thou for her and for none other borne, Hath kind thee wrought al only her to please? Let be and thinke right thus in thy disease, * That in y^• dice right as ther fallen chaunces, Right so in love there come & gon plesaunces.

And yet this is a wonder most of all, Why thou thus sorowest, sith thou wost nat yet Touching her going, how that it shall fall, Ne if she can her selfe distourben it, Thou hast nat yet assaied all her wit, * A man may all betime his necke bede When it shall off, and sorowen at the nede.

For thy, take hede of all that I shall say, I have with her ispoke, and long ibe, So as accorded was betwixe vs twey, And evermore me thinketh thus, that she Hath somewhat in her hearts privite, Wherewith she can, if I shall aright rede, Disturbe all this, of which thou art in drede.

For which my counsell is, when it is night, Thou to her go, and make of this an end, And blisfull Iuno, through her great might, Shall (as I hope) her grace vnto vs send, Mine hart seith certaine she shall nat wend, And for thy, put thine heart a while in rest, And hold thy purpose, for it is the best.

This Troilus answerde, and sighed sore, Thou saist right well, and I will do right so, And what him list, he said vnto him more, And when that it was time for to go, Full prively himselfe withouten mo Vnto her came, as he was wont to done, And how they wrought, I shall you tell soone.

Sooth is, that when they gon first to mete, So gan the paine her hearts for to twist, That neither of hem other might grete, But hem in armes tooke, and after kist, The lasse wofull of hem both nist Where y^• he was, ne might o word outbring, As I said erst, for wo and for sobbing.

The wofull teares that they leten fall, As bitter weren out of teares kind For paine, as is ligne aloes, or gall, So bitter teares wept not as I find The wofull Mirra, through the barke & rind, That in this world there nis so hard an hart, That nolde have rewed on her paines smart.

But when her wofull wery ghosts twaine Returned ben, there as hem ought to dwell, And that somewhat to weken gan the paine By length of plaint, and ebben gan the well Of her teares, and the heart vnswell, With broken voice, al horse for shright, Creseid To Troilus these ilke words seid.

O Iove I die, and mercy thee besech, Helpe Troilus: and therewithal her face Vpon his brest she laid, and lost her speech, Her wofull spirite from his proper place Right with the worde, away in point to pace, And thus she lith, with hewes pale & grene, That whilom fresh and fairest was to sene.

This Troilus that on her gan behold, Cleping her name, and she lay as for deed, Withouten answere, & felt her simmes cold, Her eien throwen vpward to her heed: This sorowful man, can now non other rede But oft time her colde mouth he kist, Where him was wo, God and himself it wist.

He riseth him vp, & long straite he her leide, For signe of life, for aught he can or may, Can he none finde, in nothing of Creseide, For which his song full oft is welaway: But when he saw that spechlesse she lay, With sorowful voice, & hart of blisse al bare, He said, how she was fro this world ifare.

So after that he long had her complained, His hondes wrong, and said that was to sey, And with his teeres salt her brest berained, He gan tho teeres wipen off full drey, And pitously gan for the soule prey, And said, Lord that set art in thy trone, Rewe eke on me, for I shall folow her sone.

She cold was, and without sentement, For ought he wote, for brethe felt he none, And this was him a preignant argument, That she was forth out of this world agone: And when he saw there was non other wonne, He gan her limmes dresse, in such manere, As men don hem that shall ben laide on bere.

And after this, with sterne and cruel hart, His swerde anon out of his sheth he twight, Him selfe to sleen, how sore that him smart, So that his soule, her soule folowen might, There as y^• dome of Minos would it dight, Sith love and cruel fortune it ne would, That in this world he lenger liven should.

Then said he thus, fulfilde of high disdaine, O cruel Iove, and thou fortune adverse, This is all and some, that falsly have ye slaine Creseide, and sith ye may do me ne werse, Fie on your might and werkes so diverse, Thus cowardly ye shull me never winne, There shall no deth me fro my lady twinne.

For I this world, sith ye have slain her thus Woll let, and folow her spirite low or hie, Shal never lover saine that Troilus, Dare nat for feare with his lady die, For certaine I woll beare her companie, But sithe ye wol nat suffre vs liven here, Yet suffreth that our soules ben ifere.

And thou Citie in which I live in wo, And thou Priam, and brethren al ifere, And thou my mother, farewell for I go, And Attropose make redy thou my bere: And thou Creseide, O swete hart dere, Receive now my spirite, would he sey With swerde at hart, all redy for to dey.

But as God would, of swough she abraide, And gan to sighe, and Troilus she cride, And he answerde, lady mine Creseide, Live ye yet? and let his swerde doun glide: Ye hart mine, that thanked be Cupide, (Qd. she) and therewithal she sore sight, And he began to glade her as he might.

Toke her in armes two and kist her oft, And her to glad, he did al his entent, For which her gost, that flikered aie a loft, Into her wofull hart ayen it went: But at the last, as that her eye glent Aside, anon she gan his sworde aspie, As it lay bare, and gan for feare crie.

And asked him why he had it out draw, And Troilus anon the cause her told, And how himself therwith he wold have slaw, For which Creseide vpon him gan behold, And gan him in her armes fast fold, And said, O mercy God, lo which a dede Alas, how nigh we weren both dede.

Then if I nadde spoken, as grace was, Ye would have slain your selfe anon (qd. she) Ye doutlesse: and she answerde alas, For by that ilke lorde that made me, I nolde a forlong way on live have be, After your deth, to have ben crouned Quene Of al the londe the sunne on shineth shene.

But with this selve sword, which y^t here is My selfe I would have slain (qd. she) tho:

But ho, for we have right inough of this, And let vs rise and straite to bedde go: And there let vs speken of our wo, For by that morter, which that I see brenne, Know I ful well, that day is nat farre henne.

When they wer in her bed in armes fold, Naught was it like tho nights here beforne, For petously ech other gan behold, As they that hadden al her blisse ilorne, Bewailing aie the day that they were borne, Til at the last, this sorowful wight Creseide, To Troilus these ilke words seide.

Lo hart mine, wel wote ye this (qd. she) * That if a wight alway his wo complaine, And seketh nat how holpen for to be, It nis but folie, and encreace of paine: And sens that here assembled be we twaine, To find bote of wo that we ben in, It were time al sone to begin.

I am a woman, as ful wel ye wotte, And as I am avised sodainly, So wol I tel you, while it is hotte, Me thinketh thus, that neyther ye nor I, Ought halfe this wo to maken skilfully, For there is art inough for to redresse, That yet is misse, and sleen this hevinesse.

Soth is, the wo the which we ben inne, For aught I wote, for nothing els is, But for the cause that we should twinne, Considred al, there nis no more amis: And what is then a remedy vnto this? But that we shape vs sone for to mete, This al and some, my dere hart swete.

Now that I shall wel bringen it about To comen ayen, sone after that I go, Thereof am I no maner thing in dout, For dredelesse, within a weke or two I shal ben here: and that it may be so, By all right, and in words few, I shal you wel an heape of waies shew.

For which I woll nat maken long sermon, * For time ilost may not recovered be, But I will go to my conclusion, And to the best, in aught that I can see: And for the love of God foryeve it me, If I speake aught ayenst your harts rest, For trewly I speake it for the best.

Making alway a protestacion, That now these words which I shal say, Nis but to shew you my mocion, To find vnto our helpe the best way, And take it no otherwise I pray, For in effect, what so ye me commaund, That wol I done, for that is no demaund.

Now herkeneth this, ye have wel vnderstond My going graunted is by parliment, So ferforth that it may not ben withstond, For al this world, as by my judgement: And sithe there helpeth none avisement, To letten it, lette it passe out of mind, And let vs shape a better way to find.

The sothe is, the twinning of vs twaine, Wol vs disease, and cruelly anoie: * But him behoveth sometime have a paine, That serveth love, if that he woll have joie: And sith I shall no farther out of Troie Than I may ride ayen on halfe a morow, It ought lasse causen vs for to sorow.

So as I shal nat so ben hid in mew, That day by day, mine owne hart dere, Sens well ye wote that it is now a trew, Ye shal ful wel al mine estate here: Aud er that truce is done, I shal ben here, Than have ye both Antenor iwonne, And me also, bethe glad now if ye conne.

And think right thus, Creseid is now agon, But what, she shal come hastely ayen, And when alas? by God, lo right anon Er daies ten, this dare I safely saine, And then at erst, shal we be so faine, So as we shal togithers ever dwell, That al this world ne might our blisse tell.

I see that oft time, there as we ben now That for the best, our counsaile for to hide, Ye speke nat with me, nor I with you In fourtenight, ne see you go ne ride: May ye nat ten daies then abide,

For mine honour, in such aventure? Iwis ye mowe, or els lite endure.

Ye know eke how that all my kin is here, But if that onely it my father be, And eke mine other thinges al ifere, And namely my dere herte ye, Whom that I nolde leaven for to see, For al this world, as wide as it hath space, Or els see I never Ioves face.

Why trowe ye my father in this wise, Coveiteth so to see me, but for drede, Lest in this toune that folkes me dispise, Bicause of him, for his vnhappy dede? What wote my father what life that I lede, For if he wist in Troie how wel I fare, Vs neded for my wending nat to care.

Ye, that every day eke more and more, Men treate of peace, and it supposed is, That men the quene Heleine shall restore, And Grekes vs restore that is mis: Though there nere comfort none but this, That men purposen peace on every side, Ye may the better at ease of hart abide,

For if that it be peace, mine hart dere, The nature of the peace mote nedes drive, That men must entrecomune ifere, And to and fro eke ride and gone as blive, Al day as thicke as Been flien from an hive, And every wight have liberty to bleve Where as him list, the bet withouten leve.

And tho so be y^t peace ther may bene none, Yet hither, though ther never peace ne were, I must come, for whider should I gone, Or how mischaunce should I dwell there Among tho men of armes ever in fere, For which, as wisely God my soule rede, I can nat sene wherof ye should drede.

Have here another way, if it so be That al this thing ne may you not suffice, My father as ye knowen well parde, Is olde, and eke full of covetise, And I right now have founden al the gise, Withouten nette, wherwith I shal him hent, And herkeneth now, if that ye woll assent.

Lo Troilus, men saine, That ful hard it is * The wolfe ful, and the wedder hole to have, This is to saine, that men full oft iwis, Mote spenden parte, the remnant for to save: For aie with Gold, men may the harte grave, Of him that set is vpon covetise, And how I meane, I shal it you devise.

The moveable, which y^t I have in this toun Vnto my father shal I take, and say, That right for trust, and for salvatioun, It sent is from a frende of his or tway, The which frendes fervently him pray, To sende after more, and that in hie, While that this toun stant thus in ieopardie.

And that shal be of gold an huge quantite, Thus shal I sain, but lest folke it aspide, This may be sent by no wight but by me: I shal eke shewen him, if peace betide What frends that I have on every side, Toward the court, to don the wrath pace, Of Priamus, and do him stonde in grace.

So what for o thing and for other, swete, I shal him so enchaunten with my sawes, That right in heven his soule is, shal he mete, For all Apollo, or his clerkes lawes, Or calculing, availeth not three hawes: Desire of Gold shall so his soule blend, That as me list, I shall wel make an end.

And if he would aught by his sort it preve, If that I lie, in certaine I shall fond To disturben him, & plucke him by the sleve, Making his sort, and bearen him on hond, He hath nat well the goddes vnderstond, * For goddes speke in amphibologies, And for o sothe, they tellen twenty lies.

* Eke drede fond first goddes, I suppose, Thus shall I saine, & that his coward hert, Made him amis the goddes text to glose, When he for ferde out of Delphos stert: And but I make him sone to convert, And done my rede, within a day or twey, I wol to you oblige me to dey.

And trewly, as written wel I find, That al this thing was said of good entent, And that her hart trewe was and kind Towardes him, and spake right as she ment, And that she starfe for wo nigh when she went, And was in purpose ever to be trewe, Thus writen they, that of her werkes knew.

This Troilus, with hart and eeres sprad Herde al this thing devised to and fro, And verily it seemed that he had The selve witte, but yet to let her go His hart misyave him evermo, But finally he gan his herte wrest, To trusten her, and toke it for the best.

For which the great fury of his penaunce, Was queint with hope, & therewith hem be∣twene Began for joy the amorous daunce, And as the birdes, when the sunne shene, Deliten in her songe, in leves greene, Right so the wordes, that they spake ifere, Deliten hem, and made her hertes chere.

But nathelesse, the wending of Creseide, For al this world may nat out of his mind, For which ful oft he pitously her preide, That of her heste he might her trewe find: And said her, certes if ye be kind, And but ye come at day set, in Troie, Ne shal I never have heale, honor, ne joie.

For also sothe as sunne vprist to morow, And God so wisely thou me woful wretch

To rest bring, out of this cruel sorow, I wol my selven slee, if that ye dretch: But of my death though little be to retch, Yet er that ye me causen so to smart, Dwel rather here my owne swete hart.

For trewly mine owne lady dere, The sleights yet, that I have herd you stere, Ful shapely ben to fallen all ifere, * For thus men saith, y^t one thinketh the bere, But al another thinketh the ledere, Your sire is wise, and said is out of drede, * Men may the wise out renne, & not out rede.

* It is full harde to halten vnespied Before a crepil, for he can the craft, Your father is in sleight as Argus eied, For al be it that his movable is him biraft, His old sleight is yet so with him laft, Ye shal nat blende him for your womanhede Ne faine aright, and that is all my drede.

I not if peace shal evermo betide, But peace or no, for ernest ne for game, I wote sith Calcas on the Grekes side, Hath ones ben, and lost so foule his name, He dare no more come here ayen for shame, For which that we, for ought I can espie, To trusten on, nis but a fantasie.

Ye shal eke seen your father shall you glose, To ben a wife, and as he can well prech, He shal some Greke so preise and wel alose, That ravishen he shal you with his spech: Or do you done by force, as he shall tech, And Troilus on whom ye nil have routh, Shall causelesse so sterven in his trouth.

And over al this your father shall dispise Vs al, and saine this cite is but lorne, And that thassege never shall arise, For why the Grekes have it al sworne, Til we ben slaine, and doun our walles torne, And thus he shal you with his words fere, That aie drede I, that ye wol bleven there.

Ye shall eke sene so many a lusty knight, Among the Grekes ful of worthinesse, And ech of hem, with hart, wit, and might To pleasen you, done al his businesse, That ye shull dullen of the rudenesse Of lely Troians, but if routhe Remorde you, or vertue of your trouthe.

And this to me so grevouse is to thinke, That fro my brest it wol my soule rende, Ne dredelesse, in me there may nat sinke O good opinion, if that ye wende, For why, your fathers sleight woll vs shende, And if ye gone, as I have tolde you yore, So thinke I nam but deed, withouten more.

For which with humble, true & pitous hart A thousand times mercy I you pray, So reweth on mine aspre paines smart, And doth somwhat, as that I shall you say: And let vs steale away betwixt vs tway, And thinke y^t foly is, when a man may chese For accident, his substaunce for to lese.

I meane thus, that sens we mowe or day Wel steale away, and ben togither so, What wit were it to putten in assay, (In case ye shoulden to your father go) If that ye mighten come ayen or no: Thus meane I, that were a great follie To put that sikernesse in jeopardie.

And vulgarly to speken of substaunce, Of treasour may we both with vs lede, Ynough to live in honour and pleasaunce, Til vnto time that we shall ben dede: And thus we may eschewen all this drede, For every other waie ye can record, Mine hart iwis may therewith nat acord.

And hardely ne dredeth no poverte, For I have kin and frendes els where, That though we comen in our bare sherte, Vs should never lacke Golde ne geere, But ben honoured while we dwelten there, And go we anone, for as in mine entent, This is the best, if that ye woll assent.

Creseide with a sigh, right in this wise Answerde, iwis my dere hart trew, We may well steale away, as ye devise, And finden such vnthrifty waies new: But afterward full sore it woll vs rew, And helpe me God so at my most nede, As causelesse ye suffren al this drede.

For thilke day that I for cherishing, Of drede of father, or for any other wight, Or for estate, delite, or for wedding, Be false to you, my Troilus my knight, Saturnus doughter Iuno, through her miʒt As wood as Achamante do me dwell Eternally with Stix in the pit of Hell.

And this, on every God celestiall I swere it you, and eke on eche Goddesse, On every nimphe, and deite infernall, On Satiry and fauny more and lesse, That halve goddes ben of wildernesse, And Attropos my threde of life to brest, If I be false, now trowe me if you lest.

And thou Simois, that, as an arowe, clere Throgh Troy rennest, aie dounward to y^• see, Be witnesse of this word, that said is here, That thilke day that I vntrewe be To Troilus, mine owne hart fre, That thou return backwarde to thy well, And I with body and soule sinke to hell.

But that ye speake away thus for to go, And letten all your frendes, God forbede, For any woman that ye shoulden so, And namely, sens Troy hath now such nede Of helpe, and eke of o thing taketh hede, If this were wist, my life lay in ballaunce, And your honor, God shild vs fro mischaunce.

And if so be that peace hereafter be take, * As all day happeth after anger game, Why lord the sorow & wo ye wolden make, That ye ne durst come ayen for shame, And ere that ye ieoparden so your name, * Beth nat too hasty in this hotte fare, For hasty man ne wanteth never care.

What trowe ye the people eke all about Would of it say? it is full light to arede, They woulden say, and swere it out of dout, That love ne drave you nat to done this dede But lust voluptuous, and coward drede, Thus were all lost iwis mine herte dere Your honour, whiche that now shineth clere.

And also thinketh on mine honeste, That floureth yet, how foul I should it shend, And with what filth it spotted shulde be, If in this forme I should with you wend, Ne though I lived unto the worlds end, My name should I never ayenward win, Thus were I lost, and that were routh & sin.

And for thy, slee with reason all this hete, Men sain, the suffraunt overcommeth parde, Eke whoso woll have lefe, he lefe mote lete, Thus maketh vertue of necessite By patience, and thinke that lord is he Of fortune aye, that naught woll of her retch, And she ne daunteth no wight but a wretch.

And trusteth this, that certes herte swete, Or Phebus suster, Lucina the shene, The Lion passe out of this Arite, I woll been here, withouten any wene, I meane, as help me Iuno heavens Quene, The tenth day, but if that death m••assaile, I woll you seene, withouten any faile.

And now so this be sooth (qd. Troilus) I shall well suffer unto the tenth day, Sens that I see that nede it mote ben thus, But for the love of God, if be it may, So let us stealen prively away, For ever in one, as for to live in rest, Mine hert saieth that it woll be the best.

O mercy God, what life is this (qd. she) Alas, ye slea me thus for very tene, I see well now that ye mistrusten me, For by your wordes it is well isene, Now for the love of Scinthia the shene, Mistrust me nat thus causelesse for routh, Sens to be true I have you plight my trouth

And thinketh well, that sometime it is wit To spend a time, a time for to win, Ne parde lorne am I nat fro you yet, Though that we ben a day or two atwin, Drive out tho fantasies you within, And trusteth me, and leaveth eke your sorow, Or here my trouth, I wol nat live til morow.

For if ye wist how sore it doth me smart, Ye would cesse of this, for God thou wost The pure spirit weepeth in mine hart To seen you weepen, which that I love most, And that I mote gone unto the Greekes host, Ye, nere it that I wist a remedy To come ayen, right here I wolde dy.

But certes I am not so nice a wight, That I ne can imaginen a way To come ayen that day that I have hight, For who may holden a thing that woll away, My father naught, for all his queint play, And by my thrift, my wending out of Troy Another day shall tourne us all to joy.

For thy, with all mine heart I you beseke, If that you list done aught for my prayere, And for the love which that I love you eke, That ere I departe fro you here, That of so good a comfort and a chere I may you seen, that ye may bring at rest My hart, which is at point to brest.

And over all this I pray you (qd. she) tho, My own herts soothfast suffisaunce, Sith I am thine all hole withouten mo, That while that I am absent, no pleasaunce Of other, do me fro your remembraunce: For I am ever agast, for why men rede, * That love is thing aye full of busie drede.

For in this world there liveth lady none, If that ye were vntrue, as God defend, That so betrayed were, or wo begon, As I, that all trouth in you entend: And doubtlesse, if that iche other wend, I nere but dead, and ere ye cause find, For Goddes love, so beth ye nat unkind.

To this answered Troilus, and seide, Now God, to whom there nis no cause iwrie, Me glad, as wis I never unto Creseide, Sith thilke day I saw her first with eye, Was false, ne never shall till that I die, At short wordes, well ye may me leue, I can no more, it shall be found at preue.

Graunt mercy good hert mine iwis (qd. she) And blisful Venus let me never sterve, Er I may stonde of pleasaunce in degre, To quite him well, that so well can deserve: And while that God my wit will me conserve I shall so done, so true I have you found, That aie honour to me ward shall rebound.

For trusteth well, that your estate royall, Ne vaine delite, nor onely worthinesse Of you in werre or turnay marciall, Ne pompe, array, nobley, or eke richesse: Ne made me to rue on your distresse, But moral vertue, grounded upon trouth, That was the cause I first had on you routh.

Eke gentle hart, and manhood that ye had, And that ye had (as me thought) in dispite Every thing that sowned in to bad, As rudenesse, and peoplish appetite

And that your reason bridled your delite, This made aboven every creature, That I was yours, & shall while I may dure.

And this may length of yeres itat fordoe, Ne remuablest fortune deface, But Iupiter, that of his might may doe The sorowfull to be glad, so yeve vs grace Er nights tenne, to meten in this place, So that it may your harte and mine suffise, And fareth now well, for time is that ye rise.

And after that they long yplained had, And oft ikist, and straite in armes fold, The day gan rise, and Troilus him clad, And rufully his Lady gan behold: As he that felt deaths cares cold, And to her grace he gan him recommaund, Where he was wo, this hold I no demaund.

For mans hedde imaginen ne can, Ne entendement consider, ne tongue tell The cruell paines of this sorowfull man, That passen every torment doune in hell: For when he saw that she ne might dwell, Which that his soule out of his hart rent, Withouten more, out of y^e chamber he went.