Geoffrey Chaucer

Troilus and Criseyde


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to do, 165

       And been of good condiciouns ther-to;

       For greet power and moral vertu here

       Is selde y-seye in o persone y-fere.'

       `In good feith, that is sooth,' quod Pandarus;

       `But, by my trouthe, the king hath sones tweye, 170

       That is to mene, Ector and Troilus,

       That certainly, though that I sholde deye,

       They been as voyde of vyces, dar I seye,

       As any men that liveth under the sonne,

       Hir might is wyde y-knowe, and what they conne. 175

       `Of Ector nedeth it nought for to telle:

       In al this world ther nis a bettre knight

       Than he, that is of worthinesse welle;

       And he wel more vertu hath than might.

       This knoweth many a wys and worthy wight. 180

       The same prys of Troilus I seye,

       God help me so, I knowe not swiche tweye.'

       `By god,' quod she, `of Ector that is sooth;

       Of Troilus the same thing trowe I;

       For, dredelees, men tellen that he dooth 185

       In armes day by day so worthily,

       And bereth him here at hoom so gentilly

       To every wight, that al the prys hath he

       Of hem that me were levest preysed be.'

       `Ye sey right sooth, y-wis,' quod Pandarus; 190

       `For yesterday, who-so hadde with him been,

       He might have wondred up-on Troilus;

       For never yet so thikke a swarm of been

       Ne fleigh, as Grekes fro him gonne fleen;

       And thorugh the feld, in everi wightes ere, 195

       Ther nas no cry but "Troilus is there!"

       `Now here, now there, he hunted hem so faste,

       Ther nas but Grekes blood; and Troilus,

       Now hem he hurte, and hem alle doun he caste;

       Ay where he wente, it was arayed thus: 200

       He was hir deeth, and sheld and lyf for us;

       That as that day ther dorste noon with-stonde,

       Whyl that he held his blody swerd in honde.

       `Therto he is the freendlieste man

       Of grete estat, that ever I saw my lyve; 205

       And wher him list, best felawshipe can

       To suche as him thinketh able for to thryve.'

       And with that word tho Pandarus, as blyve,

       He took his leve, and seyde, `I wol go henne.'

       `Nay, blame have I, myn uncle,' quod she thenne. 210

       `What eyleth yow to be thus wery sone,

       And namelich of wommen? Wol ye so?

       Nay, sitteth down; by god, I have to done

       With yow, to speke of wisdom er ye go.'

       And every wight that was a-boute hem tho, 215

       That herde that, gan fer a-wey to stonde,

       Whyl they two hadde al that hem liste in honde.

       Whan that hir tale al brought was to an ende,

       Of hire estat and of hir governaunce,

       Quod Pandarus, `Now is it tyme I wende; 220

       But yet, I seye, aryseth, lat us daunce,

       And cast your widwes habit to mischaunce:

       What list yow thus your-self to disfigure,

       Sith yow is tid thus fair an aventure?'

       `A! Wel bithought! For love of god,' quod she, 225

       `Shal I not witen what ye mene of this?'

       `No, this thing axeth layser,' tho quod he,

       `And eek me wolde muche greve, y-wis,

       If I it tolde, and ye it toke amis.

       Yet were it bet my tonge for to stille 230

       Than seye a sooth that were ayeins your wille.

       `For, nece, by the goddesse Minerve,

       And Iuppiter, that maketh the thonder ringe,

       And by the blisful Venus that I serve,

       Ye been the womman in this world livinge, 235

       With-oute paramours, to my wittinge,

       That I best love, and lothest am to greve,

       And that ye witen wel your-self, I leve.'

       `Y-wis, myn uncle,' quod she, `grant mercy;

       Your freendship have I founden ever yit; 240

       I am to no man holden trewely,

       So muche as yow, and have so litel quit;

       And, with the grace of god, emforth my wit,

       As in my gilt I shal you never offende;

       And if I have er this, I wol amende. 245

       `But, for the love of god, I yow beseche,

       As ye ben he that I love most and triste,

       Lat be to me your fremde manere speche,

       And sey to me, your nece, what yow liste:'

       And with that word hir uncle anoon hir kiste, 250

       And seyde, `Gladly, leve nece dere,

       Tak it for good that I shal seye yow here.'

       With that she gan hir eiyen doun to caste,

       And Pandarus to coghe gan a lyte,

       And seyde, `Nece, alwey, lo! To the laste, 255

       How-so it be that som men hem delyte

       With subtil art hir tales for to endyte,

       Yet for al that, in hir entencioun

       Hir tale is al for som conclusioun.

       `And sithen thende is every tales strengthe, 260

       And this matere is so bihovely,

       What sholde I peynte or drawen it on lengthe

       To yow, that been my freend so feithfully?'

       And with that word he gan right inwardly

       Biholden hir, and loken on hir face, 265

       And seyde, `On suche a mirour goode grace!'

       Than thoughte he thus: `If I my tale endyte

       Ought hard, or make a proces any whyle,

       She shal no savour han ther-in but lyte,

       And trowe I wolde hir in my wil bigyle. 270

       For tendre wittes wenen al be wyle

       Ther-as they can nat pleynly understonde;

       For-thy hir wit to serven wol I fonde—'

       And loked on hir in a besy wyse,

       And she was war that he byheld hir so, 275

       And seyde, `Lord! So faste ye me avyse!

       Sey ye me never er now? What sey ye, no?'

       `Yes, yes,' quod he, `and bet wole er I go;

       But, by my trouthe, I thoughte now if ye

       Be fortunat, for now men shal it see. 280

       `For to every wight som goodly aventure

       Som tyme is shape, if he it can receyven;