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That thilke day that ich untrewe be

To Troilus, myn owene herte free,

That thou retorne bakwarde to thy welle,

And I with body and soule sinke in helle!

`But that ye speke, awey thus for to go 1555

And leten alle your freendes, god for-bede,

For any womman, that ye sholden so,

And namely, sin Troye hath now swich nede

Of help; and eek of o thing taketh hede,

If this were wist, my lif laye in balaunce, 1560

And your honour; god shilde us fro mischaunce!

`And if so be that pees her-after take,

As alday happeth, after anger, game,

Why, lord! The sorwe and wo ye wolden make,

That ye ne dorste come ayein for shame! 1565

And er that ye Iuparten so your name,

Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare;

For hasty man ne wanteth never care.

`What trowe ye the peple eek al aboute

Wolde of it seye? It is ful light to arede. 1570

They wolden seye, and swere it, out of doute,

That love ne droof yow nought to doon this dede,

But lust voluptuous and coward drede.

Thus were al lost, y-wis, myn herte dere,

Your honour, which that now shyneth so clere. 1575

`And also thenketh on myn honestee,

That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,

And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,

If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.

Ne though I livede un-to the worldes ende, 1580

My name sholde I never ayeinward winne;

Thus were I lost, and that were routhe and sinne.

`And for-thy slee with reson al this hete;

Men seyn, "The suffraunt overcometh," pardee;

Eek "Who-so wol han leef, he lief mot lete;" 1585

Thus maketh vertue of necessitee

By pacience, and thenk that lord is he

Of fortune ay, that nought wol of hir recche;

And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche.

`And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete, 1590

Er Phebus suster, Lucina the shene,

The Leoun passe out of this Ariete,

I wol ben here, with-outen any wene.

I mene, as helpe me Iuno, hevenes quene,

The tenthe day, but-if that deeth me assayle, 1595

I wol yow seen with-outen any fayle.'

`And now, so this be sooth,' quod Troilus,

`I shal wel suffre un-to the tenthe day,

Sin that I see that nede it moot be thus.

But, for the love of god, if it be may, 1600

So lat us stele prively away;

For ever in oon, as for to live in reste,

Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste.'

`O mercy, god, what lyf is this?' quod she;

`Allas, ye slee me thus for verray tene! 1605

I see wel now that ye mistrusten me;

For by your wordes it is wel y-sene.

Now, for the love of Cynthia the shene,

Mistrust me not thus causeles, for routhe;

Sin to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe. 1610

`And thenketh wel, that som tyme it is wit

To spende a tyme, a tyme for to winne;

Ne, pardee, lorn am I nought fro yow yit,

Though that we been a day or two a-twinne.

Dryf out the fantasyes yow with-inne; 1615

And trusteth me, and leveth eek your sorwe,

Or here my trouthe, I wol not live til morwe.

`For if ye wiste how sore it doth me smerte,

Ye wolde cesse of this; for god, thou wost,

The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte, 1620

To see yow wepen that I love most,

And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost.

Ye, nere it that I wiste remedye

To come ayein, right here I wolde dye!

`But certes, I am not so nyce a wight 1625

That I ne can imaginen a wey

To come ayein that day that I have hight.

For who may holde thing that wol a-way?

My fader nought, for al his queynte pley.

And by my thrift, my wending out of Troye 1630

Another day shal torne us alle to Ioye.

`For-thy, with al myn herte I yow beseke,

If that yow list don ought for my preyere,

And for the love which that I love yow eke,

That er that I departe fro yow here, 1635

That of so good a comfort and a chere

I may you seen, that ye may bringe at reste

Myn herte, which that is at point to breste.

`And over al this I pray yow,' quod she tho,

`Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce, 1640

Sin I am thyn al hool, with-outen mo,

That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunce

Of othere do me fro your remembraunce.

For I am ever a-gast, for-why men rede,

That