Troilus and Criseyde. Geoffrey Chaucer

could never govern himself in love.

      “Yea, Troilus, hearken to me,” quoth Pandare,

      “Though I be nice;{86} it happens often so,

      That one that access{87} doth full evil fare,

      By good counsél can keep his friend therefro’.

      I have my selfë seen a blind man go

      Where as he fell that looke could full wide;

      A fool may eke a wise man often guide.

      “A whetstone is no carving instrument,

      But yet it maketh sharpë carving toolës;

      And, if thou know’st that I have aught miswent,{88}

      Eschew thou that, for such thing to thee school{89} is.

      Thus oughtë wise men to beware by foolës;

      If so thou do, thy wit is well bewared;

      By its contráry is everything declared.

      “For how might ever sweetness have been know

      To him that never tasted bitterness?

      And no man knows what gladness is, I trow,

      That never was in sorrow or distress:

      Eke white by black, by shame eke worthiness,

      Each set by other, more for other seemeth,{90}

      As men may see; and so the wise man deemeth.”

      Troilus, however, still begs his friend to leave him to mourn in peace, for all his proverbs can avail nothing. But Pandarus insists on plying the lover with wise saws, arguments, reproaches; hints that, if he should die of love, his lady may impute his death to fear of the Greeks; and finally induces Troilus to admit that the well of all his woe, his sweetest foe, is called Criseyde. Pandarus breaks into praises of the lady, and congratulations of his friend for so well fixing his heart; he makes Troilus utter a formal confession of his sin in jesting at lovers and bids him think well that she of whom rises all his woe, hereafter may his comfort be also.

      “For thilkë{91} ground, that bears the weedës wick’

      Bears eke the wholesome herbës, and full oft

      Next to the foulë nettle, rough and thick,

      The lily waxeth,{92} white, and smooth, and soft;

      And next the valley is the hill aloft,

      And next the darkë night is the glad morrow,

      And also joy is next the fine{93} of sorrow.”

      Pandarus holds out to Troilus good hope of achieving his desire; and tells him that, since he has been converted from his wicked rebellion against Love, he shall be made the best post of all Love’s law, and most grieve Love’s enemies. Troilus gives utterance to a hint of fear; but he is silenced by Pandarus with another proverb—“Thou hast full great care, lest that the carl should fall out of the moon.” Then the lovesick youth breaks into a joyous boast that some of the Greeks shall smart; he mounts his horse, and plays the lion in the field; while Pandarus retires to consider how he may best recommend to his niece the suit of Troilus.