Troilus and Criseyde Part 20

'For al-so seur as day cometh after night, The newe love, labour or other wo, Or elles selde seinge of a wight, Don olde affecciouns alle over-go.

And, for thy part, thou shalt have oon of tho 425 To abrigge with thy bittre peynes smerte; Absence of hir shal dryve hir out of herte.'

Thise wordes seyde he for the nones alle, To helpe his freend, lest he for sorwe deyde.

For douteles, to doon his wo to falle, 430 He roughte not what unthrift that he seyde.

But Troilus, that neigh for sorwe deyde, Tok litel hede of al that ever he mente; Oon ere it herde, at the other out it wente:

But at the laste answerde and seyde, 'Freend, 435 This lechecraft, or heled thus to be, Were wel sitting, if that I were a feend, To traysen hir that trewe is unto me!

I pray G.o.d, lat this consayl never y-thee; But do me rather sterve anon-right here 440 Er I thus do as thou me woldest lere.

'She that I serve, y-wis, what so thou seye, To whom myn herte enhabit is by right, Shal han me holly hires til that I deye.

For, Pandarus, sin I have trouthe hir hight, 445 I wol not been untrewe for no wight; But as hir man I wol ay live and sterve, And never other creature serve.

'And ther thou seyst, thou shalt as faire finde As she, lat be, make no comparisoun 450 To creature y-formed here by kinde.

O leve Pandare, in conclusioun, I wol not be of thyn opinioun, Touching al this; for whiche I thee biseche, So hold thy pees; thou sleest me with thy speche. 455

'Thow biddest me I sholde love an-other Al freshly newe, and lat Criseyde go!

It lyth not in my power, leve brother.

And though I mighte, I wolde not do so.

But canstow pleyen raket, to and fro, 460 Netle in, dokke out, now this, now that, Pandare?

Now foule falle hir, for thy wo that care!

'Thow farest eek by me, thou Pandarus, As he, that whan a wight is wo bi-goon, He cometh to him a pas, and seyth right thus, 465 "Thenk not on smert, and thou shalt fele noon."

Thou most me first transmuwen in a stoon, And reve me my pa.s.siounes alle, Er thou so lightly do my wo to falle.

'The deeth may wel out of my brest departe 470 The lyf, so longe may this sorwe myne; But fro my soule shal Criseydes darte Out never-mo; but doun with Proserpyne, Whan I am deed, I wol go wone in pyne; And ther I wol eternaly compleyne 475 My wo, and how that twinned be we tweyne.

'Thow hast here maad an argument, for fyn, How that it sholde a la.s.se peyne be Criseyde to for-goon, for she was myn, And live in ese and in felicitee. 480 Why gabbestow, that seydest thus to me That "him is wors that is fro wele y-throwe, Than he hadde erst non of that wele y-knowe?"

'But tel me now, sin that thee thinketh so light To chaungen so in love, ay to and fro, 485 Why hastow not don bisily thy might To chaungen hir that doth thee al thy wo?

Why niltow lete hir fro thyn herte go?

Why niltow love an-other lady swete, That may thyn herte setten in quiete? 490

'If thou hast had in love ay yet mischaunce, And canst it not out of thyn herte dryve, I, that livede in l.u.s.t and in plesaunce With hir as muche as creature on-lyve, How sholde I that foryete, and that so blyve? 495 O where hastow ben hid so longe in muwe, That canst so wel and formely arguwe?

'Nay, nay, G.o.d wot, nought worth is al thy reed, For which, for what that ever may bifalle, With-outen wordes mo, I wol be deed. 500 O deeth, that endere art of sorwes alle, Com now, sin I so ofte after thee calle, For sely is that deeth, soth for to seyne, That, ofte y-cleped, cometh and endeth peyne.

'Wel wot I, whyl my lyf was in quiete, 505 Er thou me slowe, I wolde have yeven hyre; But now thy cominge is to me so swete, That in this world I no-thing so desyre.

O deeth, sin with this sorwe I am a-fyre, Thou outher do me anoon yn teres drenche, 510 Or with thy colde strook myn hete quenche!

'Sin that thou sleest so fele in sondry wyse Ayens hir wil, unpreyed, day and night, Do me, at my requeste, this servyse, Delivere now the world, so dostow right, 515 Of me, that am the wofulleste wight That ever was; for tyme is that I sterve, Sin in this world of right nought may I serve.'

This Troilus in teres gan distille, As licour out of alambyk ful faste; 520 And Pandarus gan holde his tunge stille, And to the ground his eyen doun he caste.

But nathelees, thus thoughte he at the laste, 'What, parde, rather than my felawe deye, Yet shal I som-what more un-to him seye:' 525

And seyde, 'Freend, sin thou hast swich distresse, And sin thee list myn arguments to blame, Why nilt thy-selven helpen doon redresse, And with thy manhod letten al this grame?

Go ravisshe hir ne canstow not for shame! 530 And outher lat hir out of toune fare, Or hold hir stille, and leve thy nyce fare.

'Artow in Troye, and hast non hardiment To take a womman which that loveth thee, And wolde hir-selven been of thyn a.s.sent? 535 Now is not this a nyce vanitee?

Rys up anoon, and lat this weping be, And kyth thou art a man, for in this houre I wil be deed, or she shal bleven oure.'

To this answerde him Troilus ful softe, 540 And seyde, 'Parde, leve brother dere, Al this have I my-self yet thought ful ofte, And more thing than thou devysest here.

But why this thing is laft, thou shalt wel here; And whan thou me hast yeve an audience, 545 Ther-after mayst thou telle al thy sentence.

'First, sin thou wost this toun hath al this werre For raviss.h.i.+ng of wommen so by might, It sholde not be suffred me to erre, As it stant now, ne doon so gret unright. 550 I sholde han also blame of every wight, My fadres graunt if that I so withstode, Sin she is chaunged for the tounes goode.

'I have eek thought, so it were hir a.s.sent, To aske hir at my fader, of his grace; 555 Than thenke I, this were hir accus.e.m.e.nt, Sin wel I woot I may hir not purchace.

For sin my fader, in so heigh a place As parlement, hath hir eschaunge enseled, He nil for me his lettre be repeled. 560

'Yet drede I most hir herte to pertourbe With violence, if I do swich a game; For if I wolde it openly distourbe, It moste been disclaundre to hir name.

And me were lever deed than hir defame, 565 As nolde G.o.d but-if I sholde have Hir honour lever than my lyf to save!

'Thus am I lost, for ought that I can see; For certeyn is, sin that I am hir knight, I moste hir honour levere han than me 570 In every cas, as lovere oughte of right.

Thus am I with desyr and reson twight; Desyr for to destourben hir me redeth, And reson nil not, so myn herte dredeth.'

Thus wepinge that he coude never cesse, 575 He seyde, 'Allas! How shal I, wrecche, fare?

For wel fele I alwey my love encresse, And hope is la.s.se and la.s.se alwey, Pandare!

Encressen eek the causes of my care; So wel-a-wey, why nil myn herte breste? 580 For, as in love, ther is but litel reste.'

Pandare answerde, 'Freend, thou mayst, for me, Don as thee list; but hadde ich it so hote, And thyn estat, she sholde go with me; Though al this toun cryede on this thing by note, 585 I nolde sette at al that noyse a grote.

For when men han wel cryed, than wol they roune; A wonder last but nyne night never in toune.

'Devyne not in reson ay so depe Ne curteysly, but help thy-self anoon; 590 Bet is that othere than thy-selven wepe, And namely, sin ye two been al oon.

Rys up, for by myn heed, she shal not goon; And rather be in blame a lyte y-founde Than sterve here as a gnat, with-oute wounde. 595

'It is no shame un-to yow, ne no vyce Hir to with-holden, that ye loveth most.

Paraunter, she mighte holden thee for nyce To lete hir go thus to the Grekes ost.

Thenk eek Fortune, as wel thy-selven wost, 600 Helpeth hardy man to his enpryse, And weyveth wrecches, for hir cowardyse.

'And though thy lady wolde a litel hir greve, Thou shalt thy pees ful wel here-after make, But as for me, certayn, I can not leve 605 That she wolde it as now for yvel take.

Why sholde than for ferd thyn herte quake?

Thenk eek how Paris hath, that is thy brother, A love; and why shaltow not have another?

'And Troilus, o thing I dar thee swere, 610 That if Criseyde, whiche that is thy leef, Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here, G.o.d helpe me so, she nil nat take a-greef, Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef.

And if she wilneth fro thee for to pa.s.se, 615 Thanne is she fals; so love hir wel the la.s.se.

'For-thy tak herte, and thenk, right as a knight, Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe.

Kyth now sumwhat thy corage and thy might, Have mercy on thy-self, for any awe. 620 Lat not this wrecched wo thin herte gnawe, But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene.

'I wol my-self be with thee at this dede, Though ich and al my kin, up-on a stounde, 625 Shulle in a strete as dogges liggen dede, Thourgh-girt with many a wyd and blody wounde.

In every cas I wol a freend be founde.

And if thee list here sterven as a wrecche, A-dieu, the devel spede him that it recche!' 630

This Troilus gan with tho wordes quiken, And seyde, 'Freend, graunt mercy, ich a.s.sente; But certaynly thou mayst not me so priken, Ne peyne noon ne may me so tormente, That, for no cas, it is not myn entente, 635 At shorte wordes, though I dyen sholde, To ravisshe hir, but-if hir-self it wolde.'

'Why, so mene I,' quod Pandarus, 'al this day.

But tel me than, hastow hir wil a.s.sayed, That sorwest thus?' And he answerde, 'Nay.'

'Wher-of artow,' quod Pandare, 'than a-mayed, 640 That nost not that she wol ben y-vel apayed To ravisshe hir, sin thou hast not ben there, But-if that Iove tolde it in thyn ere?