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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare - Israel Gollancz William Shakespeare [1438]

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And, in diverse wyse and oon entente,

The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne,

By Paris doon, they wroughten al hir peyne.

Now fil it so, that in the toun ther was

Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee, 65

A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas,

That in science so expert was, that he

Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be,

By answere of his god, that highte thus,

Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus. 70

So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge,

And eek by answere of this Appollo,

That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe,

Thorugh which that Troye moste been for-do,

He caste anoon out of the toun to go; 75

For wel wiste he, by sort, that Troye sholde

Destroyed ben, ye, wolde who-so nolde.

For which, for to departen softely

Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse,

And to the Grekes ost ful prively 80

He stal anoon; and they, in curteys wyse,

Hym deden bothe worship and servyse,

In trust that he hath conning hem to rede

In every peril which that is to drede.

The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed, 85

Thorugh al the toun, and generally was spoken,

That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed

With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken

On him that falsly hadde his feith so broken;

And seyden, he and al his kin at ones 90

Ben worthy for to brennen, fel and bones.

Now hadde Calkas left, in this meschaunce,

Al unwist of this false and wikked dede,

His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce,

For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede, 95

As she that niste what was best to rede;

For bothe a widowe was she, and allone

Of any freend to whom she dorste hir mone.

Criseyde was this lady name a-right;

As to my dome, in al Troyes citee 100

Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight

So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee,

That lyk a thing immortal semed she,

As doth an hevenish parfit creature,

That doun were sent in scorning of nature. 105

This lady, which that al-day herde at ere

Hir fadres shame, his falsnesse and tresoun,

Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere,

In widewes habit large of samit broun,

On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun; 110

With pitous voys, and tendrely wepinge,

His mercy bad, hir-selven excusinge.

Now was this Ector pitous of nature,

And saw that she was sorwfully bigoon,

And that she was so fair a creature; 115

Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon,

And seyde, `Lat your fadres treson goon

Forth with mischaunce, and ye your-self, in Ioye,

Dwelleth with us, whyl you good list, in Troye.

`And al thonour that men may doon yow have, 120

As ferforth as your fader dwelled here,

Ye shul han, and your body shal men save,

As fer as I may ought enquere or here.'

And she him thonked with ful humble chere,

And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille, 125

And took hir leve, and hoom, and held hir stille.

And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee

As to hir honour nede was to holde;

And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee,

Kepte hir estat, and bothe of yonge and olde 130

Ful wel beloved, and wel men of hir tolde.

But whether that she children hadde or noon,

I rede it naught; therfore I late it goon.

The thinges fellen, as they doon of werre,

Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte; 135

For som day boughten they of Troye it derre,

And eft the Grekes founden no thing softe

The folk of Troye; and thus fortune on-lofte,

And under eft, gan hem to wheelen bothe

After hir cours, ay whyl they were wrothe. 140

But how this toun com to destruccioun

Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle;

For it were a long digressioun

Fro my matere, and yow to longe dwelle.

But the Troyane gestes, as they felle, 145

In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dyte,

Who-so that can, may rede hem as they wryte.

But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten,

And hir citee bisegede al a-boute,

Hir olde usage wolde they not letten, 150

As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute;

But aldermost in honour, out of doute,

They hadde a relik hight Palladion,

That was hir trist a-boven everichon.

And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme 155

Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede

With

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