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I shal thy proces sette in swich a kinde,

And god to-forn, that it shall thee suffyse, 335

For it shal been right as thou wolt devyse.

`For wel I woot, thou menest wel, parde;

Therfore I dar this fully undertake.

Thou wost eek what thy lady graunted thee,

And day is set, the chartres up to make. 340

Have now good night, I may no lenger wake;

And bid for me, sin thou art now in blisse,

That god me sende deeth or sone lisse.'

Who mighte telle half the Ioye or feste

Which that the sowle of Troilus tho felte, 345

Heringe theffect of Pandarus biheste?

His olde wo, that made his herte swelte,

Gan tho for Ioye wasten and to-melte,

And al the richesse of his sykes sore

At ones fledde, he felte of hem no more. 350

But right so as these holtes and these hayes,

That han in winter dede been and dreye,

Revesten hem in grene, whan that May is,

Whan every lusty lyketh best to pleye;

Right in that selve wyse, sooth to seye, 355

Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of Ioye,

That gladder was ther never man in Troye.

And gan his look on Pandarus up caste

Ful sobrely, and frendly for to see,

And seyde, `Freend, in Aprille the laste, 360

As wel thou wost, if it remembre thee,

How neigh the deeth for wo thou founde me;

And how thou didest al thy bisinesse

To knowe of me the cause of my distresse.

`Thou wost how longe I it for-bar to seye 365

To thee, that art the man that I best triste;

And peril was it noon to thee by-wreye,

That wiste I wel; but tel me, if thee liste,

Sith I so looth was that thy-self it wiste,

How dorst I mo tellen of this matere, 370

That quake now, and no wight may us here?

`But natheles, by that god I thee swere,

That, as him list, may al this world governe,

And, if I lye, Achilles with his spere

Myn herte cleve, al were my lyf eterne, 375

As I am mortal, if I late or yerne

Wolde it biwreye, or dorste, or sholde conne,

For al the good that god made under sonne;

`That rather deye I wolde, and determyne,

As thinketh me, now stokked in presoun, 380

In wrecchednesse, in filthe, and in vermyne,

Caytif to cruel king Agamenoun;

And this, in alle the temples of this toun

Upon the goddes alle, I wol thee swere,

To-morwe day, if that thee lyketh here. 385

`And that thou hast so muche y-doon for me,

That I ne may it never-more deserve,

This knowe I wel, al mighte I now for thee

A thousand tymes on a morwen sterve.

I can no more, but that I wol thee serve 390

Right as thy sclave, whider-so thou wende,

For ever-more, un-to my lyves ende!

`But here, with al myn herte, I thee biseche,

That never in me thou deme swich folye

As I shal seyn; me thoughte, by thy speche, 395

That this, which thou me dost for companye,

I sholde wene it were a bauderye;

I am nought wood, al-if I lewed be;

It is not so, that woot I wel, pardee.

`But he that goth, for gold or for richesse, 400

On swich message, calle him what thee list;

And this that thou dost, calle it gentilesse,

Compassioun, and felawship, and trist;

Departe it so, for wyde-where is wist

How that there is dyversitee requered 405

Bitwixen thinges lyke, as I have lered.

`And, that thou knowe I thenke nought ne wene

That this servyse a shame be or Iape,

I have my faire suster Polixene,

Cassandre, Eleyne, or any of the frape; 410

Be she never so faire or wel y-shape,

Tel me, which thou wilt of everichone,

To han for thyn, and lat me thanne allone.

`But, sith that thou hast don me this servyse

My lyf to save, and for noon hope of mede, 415

So, for the love of god, this grete empryse

Performe it out; for now is moste nede.

For high and low, with-outen any drede,

I wol alwey thyne hestes alle kepe;

Have now good night, and lat us bothe slepe.' 420

Thus held him ech of other wel apayed,

That al the world ne mighte it bet amende;

And, on the morwe, whan they were arayed,

Ech to his owene nedes gan entende.

But Troilus, though as the fyr he brende 425

For sharp desyr of hope and of plesaunce,

He not for-gat his gode governaunce.

But in him-self with manhod gan