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That every other charge he sette at nought;

For-thy ful ofte, his hote fyr to cese, 445

To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese;

For ther-by to ben esed wel he wende,

And ay the ner he was, the more he brende.

For ay the ner the fyr, the hotter is,

This, trowe I, knoweth al this companye. 450

But were he fer or neer, I dar seye this,

By night or day, for wisdom or folye,

His herte, which that is his brestes ye,

Was ay on hir, that fairer was to sene

Than ever were Eleyne or Polixene. 455

Eek of the day ther passed nought an houre

That to him-self a thousand tyme he seyde,

`Good goodly, to whom serve I and laboure,

As I best can, now wolde god, Criseyde,

Ye wolden on me rewe er that I deyde! 460

My dere herte, allas! myn hele and hewe

And lyf is lost, but ye wole on me rewe.'

Alle othere dredes weren from him fledde,

Both of the assege and his savacioun;

Ne in him desyr noon othere fownes bredde 465

But argumentes to his conclusioun,

That she on him wolde han compassioun,

And he to be hir man, whyl he may dure;

Lo, here his lyf, and from the deeth his cure!

The sharpe shoures felle of armes preve, 470

That Ector or his othere bretheren diden,

Ne made him only ther-fore ones meve;

And yet was he, wher-so men wente or riden,

Founde oon the beste, and lengest tyme abiden

Ther peril was, and dide eek such travayle 475

In armes, that to thenke it was mervayle.

But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde,

Ne also for the rescous of the toun,

Ne made him thus in armes for to madde,

But only, lo, for this conclusioun, 480

To lyken hir the bet for his renoun;

Fro day to day in armes so he spedde,

That alle the Grekes as the deeth him dredde.

And fro this forth tho refte him love his sleep,

And made his mete his foo; and eek his sorwe 485

Gan multiplye, that, who-so toke keep,

It shewed in his hewe, bothe eve and morwe;

Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe

Of other syknesse, lest of him men wende

That the hote fyr of love him brende, 490

And seyde, he hadde a fever and ferde amis;

But how it was, certayn, can I not seye,

If that his lady understood not this,

Or feyned hir she niste, oon of the tweye;

But wel I rede that, by no maner weye, 495

Ne semed it as that she of him roughte,

Nor of his peyne, or what-so-ever he thoughte.

But than fel to this Troylus such wo,

That he was wel neigh wood; for ay his drede

Was this, that she som wight had loved so, 500

That never of him she wolde have taken hede;

For whiche him thoughte he felte his herte blede.

Ne of his wo ne dorste he not biginne

To tellen it, for al this world to winne.

But whanne he hadde a space fro his care, 505

Thus to him-self ful ofte he gan to pleyne;

He sayde, `O fool, now art thou in the snare,

That whilom Iapedest at loves peyne;

Now artow hent, now gnaw thyn owene cheyne;

Thou were ay wont eche lovere reprehende 510

Of thing fro which thou canst thee nat defende.

`What wol now every lover seyn of thee,

If this be wist, but ever in thyn absence

Laughen in scorn, and seyn, `Lo, ther gooth he,

That is the man of so gret sapience, 515

That held us lovers leest in reverence!

Now, thonked be god, he may goon in the daunce

Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce!'

`But, O thou woful Troilus, god wolde,

Sin thou most loven thurgh thi destinee, 520

That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde

Knowe al thy wo, al lakkede hir pitee:

But al so cold in love, towardes thee,

Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone,

And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sone.' 525

`God wolde I were aryved in the port

Of deth, to which my sorwe wil me lede!

A, lord, to me it were a gret comfort;

Than were I quit of languisshing in drede.

For by myn hidde sorwe y-blowe on brede 530

I shal bi-Iaped been a thousand tyme

More than that fool of whos folye men ryme.

`But now help god, and ye, swete, for whom

I pleyne, y-caught, ye, never wight so faste!

O mercy, dere herte, and help me from 535

The deeth, for I, whyl that my lyf may laste,

More than my-self wol love yow to my laste.

And