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And hard was it your herte for to grave;

Now stint, that ye no longer on it honge,

Al wolde ye the forme of daunger save.

But hasteth yow to doon him Ioye have;

For trusteth wel, to longe y-doon hardnesse 1245

Causeth despyt ful often, for destresse.'

And right as they declamed this matere,

Lo, Troilus, right at the stretes ende,

Com ryding with his tenthe some y-fere,

Al softely, and thiderward gan bende 1250

Ther-as they sete, as was his way to wende

To paleys-ward; and Pandare him aspyde,

And seyde, `Nece, y-see who cometh here ryde!

`O flee not in, he seeth us, I suppose;

Lest he may thinke that ye him eschuwe.' 1255

`Nay, nay,' quod she, and wex as reed as rose.

With that he gan hir humbly to saluwe

With dreedful chere, and oft his hewes muwe;

And up his look debonairly he caste,

And bekked on Pandare, and forth he paste. 1260

God woot if he sat on his hors a-right,

Or goodly was beseyn, that ilke day!

God woot wher he was lyk a manly knight!

What sholde I drecche, or telle of his aray?

Criseyde, which that alle these thinges say, 1265

To telle in short, hir lyked al y-fere,

His persone, his aray, his look, his chere,

His goodly manere, and his gentillesse,

So wel, that never, sith that she was born,

Ne hadde she swich routhe of his distresse; 1270

And how-so she hath hard ben her-biforn,

To god hope I, she hath now caught a thorn,

She shal not pulle it out this nexte wyke;

God sende mo swich thornes on to pyke!

Pandare, which that stood hir faste by, 1275

Felte iren hoot, and he bigan to smyte,

And seyde, `Nece, I pray yow hertely,

Tel me that I shal axen yow a lyte:

A womman, that were of his deeth to wyte,

With-outen his gilt, but for hir lakked routhe, 1280

Were it wel doon?' Quod she, `Nay, by my trouthe!'

`God help me so,' quod he, `ye sey me sooth.

Ye felen wel your-self that I not lye;

Lo, yond he rit!' Quod she, `Ye, so he dooth!'

`Wel,' quod Pandare, `as I have told yow thrye, 1285

Lat be youre nyce shame and youre folye,

And spek with him in esing of his herte;

Lat nycetee not do yow bothe smerte.'

But ther-on was to heven and to done;

Considered al thing, it may not be; 1290

And why, for shame; and it were eek to sone

To graunten him so greet a libertee.

`For playnly hir entente,' as seyde she,

`Was for to love him unwist, if she mighte,

And guerdon him with no-thing but with sighte.' 1295

But Pandarus thoughte, `It shal not be so,

If that I may; this nyce opinioun

Shal not be holden fully yeres two.'

What sholde I make of this a long sermoun?

He moste assente on that conclusioun, 1300

As for the tyme; and whan that it was eve,

And al was wel, he roos and took his leve.

And on his wey ful faste homward he spedde,

And right for Ioye he felte his herte daunce;

And Troilus he fond alone a-bedde, 1305

That lay as dooth these loveres, in a traunce,

Bitwixen hope and derk desesperaunce.

But Pandarus, right at his in-cominge,

He song, as who seyth, `Lo! Sumwhat I bringe,'

And seyde, `Who is in his bed so sone 1310

Y-buried thus?' `It am I, freend,' quod he.

`Who, Troilus? Nay, helpe me so the mone,'

Quod Pandarus, `Thou shalt aryse and see

A charme that was sent right now to thee,

The which can helen thee of thyn accesse, 1315

If thou do forth-with al thy besinesse.'

`Ye, through the might of god!' quod Troilus.

And Pandarus gan him the lettre take,

And seyde, `Pardee, god hath holpen us;

Have here a light, and loke on al this blake.' 1320

But ofte gan the herte glade and quake

Of Troilus, whyl that he gan it rede,

So as the wordes yave him hope or drede.

But fynally, he took al for the beste

That she him wroot, for somwhat he biheld 1325

On which, him thoughte, he mighte his herte reste,

Al covered she the wordes under sheld.

Thus to the more worthy part he held,

That, what for hope and Pandarus biheste,

His grete wo for-yede he at the leste. 1330

But as we may alday our-selven see,

Through more wode or col, the more fyr;

Right so encrees hope, of what