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And yet if she, for other enchesoun,

Be wrooth, than shalt thou han a groyn anoon:

Lord! wel is him that may be of yow oon!' 350

But for al this, whan that he say his tyme,

He held his pees, non other bote him gayned;

For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme,

That wel unnethe un-to his folk he fayned

That othere besye nedes him destrayned; 355

For wo was him, that what to doon he niste,

But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste.

And whan that he in chaumbre was allone,

He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette,

And first be gan to syke, and eft to grone, 360

And thoughte ay on hir so, with-outen lette,

That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette

That he hir saw a temple, and al the wyse

Right of hir loke, and gan it newe avyse.

Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde, 365

In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure;

And that he wel coude in his herte finde,

It was to him a right good aventure

To love swich oon, and if he dide his cure

To serven hir, yet mighte he falle in grace, 370

Or elles, for oon of hir servaunts pace.

Imagininge that travaille nor grame

Ne mighte, for so goodly oon, be lorn

As she, ne him for his desir ne shame,

Al were it wist, but in prys and up-born 375

Of alle lovers wel more than biforn;

Thus argumented he in his ginninge,

Ful unavysed of his wo cominge.

Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe,

And thoughte he wolde werken prively, 380

First, to hyden his desir in muwe

From every wight y-born, al-outrely,

But he mighte ought recovered be therby;

Remembring him, that love to wyde y-blowe

Yelt bittre fruyt, though swete seed be sowe. 385

And over al this, yet muchel more he thoughte

What for to speke, and what to holden inne,

And what to arten hir to love he soughte,

And on a song anoon-right to biginne,

And gan loude on his sorwe for to winne; 390

For with good hope he gan fully assente

Criseyde for to love, and nought repente.

And of his song nought only the sentence,

As writ myn autour called Lollius,

But pleynly, save our tonges difference, 395

I dar wel sayn, in al that Troilus

Seyde in his song, lo! every word right thus

As I shal seyn; and who-so list it here,

Lo! next this vers, he may it finden here.

Cantus Troili.

`If no love is, O god, what fele I so? 400

And if love is, what thing and whiche is he!

If love be good, from whennes comth my wo?

If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me,

Whenne every torment and adversitee

That cometh of him, may to me savory thinke; 405

For ay thurst I, the more that I it drinke.

`And if that at myn owene lust I brenne,

Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my pleynte?

If harme agree me, wher-to pleyne I thenne?

I noot, ne why unwery that I feynte. 410

O quike deeth, O swete harm so queynte,

How may of thee in me swich quantitee,

But-if that I consente that it be?

`And if that I consente, I wrongfully

Compleyne, y-wis; thus possed to and fro, 415

Al sterelees with inne a boot am I

A-mid the see, by-twixen windes two,

That in contrarie stonden ever-mo.

Allas! what is this wonder maladye?

For hete of cold, for cold of hete, I deye.' 420

And to the god of love thus seyde he

With pitous voys, `O lord, now youres is

My spirit, which that oughte youres be.

Yow thanke I, lord, that han me brought to this;

But whether goddesse or womman, y-wis, 425

She be, I noot, which that ye do me serve;

But as hir man I wole ay live and sterve.

`Ye stonden in hire eyen mightily,

As in a place un-to youre vertu digne;

Wherfore, lord, if my servyse or I 430

May lyke yow, so beth to me benigne;

For myn estat royal here I resigne

In-to hir hond, and with ful humble chere

Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere.'

In him ne deyned sparen blood royal 435

The fyr of love, wher-fro god me blesse,

Ne him forbar in no degree, for al

His vertu or his excellent prowesse;

But held him as his thral lowe in distresse,

And brende him so in sondry wyse ay newe, 440

That sixty tyme a day he loste his hewe.

So muche, day by day, his owene thought,

For lust to hir, gan quiken and encrese,