• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

And that anoon; ye nil not trowe how sone;

Now taketh heed, for it is for to done.

`What wene ye your wyse fader wolde

Han yeven Antenor for yow anoon, 905

If he ne wiste that the citee sholde

Destroyed been? Why, nay, so mote I goon!

He knew ful wel ther shal not scapen oon

That Troyan is; and for the grete fere,

He dorste not, ye dwelte lenger there. 910

`What wole ye more, lufsom lady dere?

Lat Troye and Troyan fro your herte pace!

Dryf out that bittre hope, and make good chere,

And clepe ayein the beautee of your face,

That ye with salte teres so deface. 915

For Troye is brought in swich a Iupartye,

That, it to save, is now no remedye.

`And thenketh wel, ye shal in Grekes finde,

A more parfit love, er it be night,

Than any Troian is, and more kinde, 920

And bet to serven yow wol doon his might.

And if ye vouche sauf, my lady bright,

I wol ben he to serven yow my-selve,

Yee, lever than he lord of Greces twelve!'

And with that word he gan to waxen reed, 925

And in his speche a litel wight he quook,

And caste a-syde a litel wight his heed,

And stinte a whyle; and afterward awook,

And sobreliche on hir he threw his look,

And seyde, `I am, al be it yow no Ioye, 930

As gentil man as any wight in Troye.

`For if my fader Tydeus,' he seyde,

`Y-lived hadde, I hadde been, er this,

Of Calidoine and Arge a king, Criseyde!

And so hope I that I shal yet, y-wis. 935

But he was slayn, allas! The more harm is,

Unhappily at Thebes al to rathe,

Polymites and many a man to scathe.

`But herte myn, sin that I am your man,

And been the ferste of whom I seche grace, 940

To serven you as hertely as I can,

And ever shal, whyl I to live have space,

So, er that I departe out of this place,

Ye wol me graunte, that I may to-morwe,

At bettre leyser, telle yow my sorwe.' 945

What shold I telle his wordes that he seyde?

He spak y-now, for o day at the meste;

It preveth wel, he spak so that Criseyde

Graunted, on the morwe, at his requeste,

For to speken with him at the leste, 950

So that he nolde speke of swich matere;

And thus to him she seyde, as ye may here:

As she that hadde hir herte on Troilus

So faste, that ther may it noon arace;

And straungely she spak, and seyde thus; 955

`O Diomede, I love that ilke place

Ther I was born; and Ioves, for his grace,

Delivere it sone of al that doth it care!

God, for thy might, so leve it wel to fare!

`That Grekes wolde hir wraththe on Troye wreke, 960

If that they mighte, I knowe it wel, y-wis.

But it shal not bifallen as ye speke;

And god to-forn, and ferther over this,

I wot my fader wys and redy is;

And that he me hath bought, as ye me tolde, 965

So dere, I am the more un-to him holde.

`That Grekes been of heigh condicioun,

I woot eek wel; but certein, men shal finde

As worthy folk with-inne Troye toun,

As conning, and as parfit and as kinde, 970

As been bitwixen Orcades and Inde.

And that ye coude wel your lady serve,

I trowe eek wel, hir thank for to deserve.

`But as to speke of love, y-wis,' she seyde,

`I hadde a lord, to whom I wedded was, 975

The whos myn herte al was, til that he deyde;

And other love, as helpe me now Pallas,

Ther in myn herte nis, ne nevere was.

And that ye been of noble and heigh kinrede,

I have wel herd it tellen, out of drede. 980

`And that doth me to han so gret a wonder,

That ye wol scornen any womman so.

Eek, god wot, love and I be fer a-sonder!

I am disposed bet, so mote I go,

Un-to my deeth, to pleyne and maken wo. 985

What I shal after doon, I can not seye;

But trewely, as yet me list not pleye.

`Myn herte is now in tribulacioun,

And ye in armes bisy, day by day.

Here-after, whan ye wonnen han the toun, 990

Paraunter, thanne so it happen may,

That whan I see that I never er say,

Than wole I werke that I never wroughte!

This word to yow y-nough suffysen oughte.

`To-morwe eek wol I speken with yow fayn, 995

So that ye touchen nought of this matere.

And whan yow list, ye may come here ayeyn;

And, er ye gon, thus