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`Which with your cominge hoom ayein to Troye 1380

Ye may redresse, and, more a thousand sythe

Than ever ich hadde, encressen in me Ioye.

For was ther never herte yet so blythe

To han his lyf, as I shal been as swythe

As I yow see; and, though no maner routhe 1385

Commeve yow, yet thinketh on your trouthe.

`And if so be my gilt hath deeth deserved,

Or if yow list no more up-on me see,

In guerdon yet of that I have you served,

Biseche I yow, myn hertes lady free, 1390

That here-upon ye wolden wryte me,

For love of god, my righte lode-sterre,

Ther deeth may make an ende of al my werre.

`If other cause aught doth yow for to dwelle,

That with your lettre ye me recomforte; 1395

For though to me your absence is an helle,

With pacience I wol my wo comporte,

And with your lettre of hope I wol desporte.

Now wryteth, swete, and lat me thus not pleyne;

With hope, or deeth, delivereth me fro peyne. 1400

`Y-wis, myn owene dere herte trewe,

I woot that, whan ye next up-on me see,

So lost have I myn hele and eek myn hewe,

Criseyde shal nought conne knowe me!

Y-wis, myn hertes day, my lady free, 1405

So thursteth ay myn herte to biholde

Your beautee, that my lyf unnethe I holde.

`I sey no more, al have I for to seye

To you wel more than I telle may;

But whether that ye do me live or deye, 1410

Yet pray I god, so yeve yow right good day.

And fareth wel, goodly fayre fresshe may,

As ye that lyf or deeth me may comaunde;

And to your trouthe ay I me recomaunde

`With hele swich that, but ye yeven me 1415

The same hele, I shal noon hele have.

In you lyth, whan yow liste that it so be,

The day in which me clothen shal my grave.

In yow my lyf, in yow might for to save

Me from disese of alle peynes smerte; 1420

And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!

Le vostre T.'

This lettre forth was sent un-to Criseyde,

Of which hir answere in effect was this;

Ful pitously she wroot ayein, and seyde,

That also sone as that she might, y-wis, 1425

She wolde come, and mende al that was mis.

And fynally she wroot and seyde him thanne,

She wolde come, ye, but she niste whenne.

But in hir lettre made she swich festes,

That wonder was, and swereth she loveth him best, 1430

Of which he fond but botmelees bihestes.

But Troilus, thou mayst now, est or west,

Pype in an ivy leef, if that thee lest;

Thus gooth the world; god shilde us fro mischaunce,

And every wight that meneth trouthe avaunce! 1435

Encresen gan the wo fro day to night

Of Troilus, for taryinge of Criseyde;

And lessen gan his hope and eek his might,

For which al doun he in his bed him leyde;

He ne eet, ne dronk, ne sleep, ne word he seyde, 1440

Imagininge ay that she was unkinde;

For which wel neigh he wex out of his minde.

This dreem, of which I told have eek biforn,

May never come out of his remembraunce;

He thoughte ay wel he hadde his lady lorn, 1445

And that Ioves, of his purveyaunce,

Him shewed hadde in sleep the signifiaunce

Of hir untrouthe and his disaventure,

And that the boor was shewed him in figure.

For which he for Sibille his suster sente, 1450

That called was Cassandre eek al aboute;

And al his dreem he tolde hir er he stente,

And hir bisoughte assoilen him the doute

Of the stronge boor, with tuskes stoute;

And fynally, with-inne a litel stounde, 1455

Cassandre him gan right thus his dreem expounde.

She gan first smyle, and seyde, `O brother dere,

If thou a sooth of this desyrest knowe,

Thou most a fewe of olde stories here,

To purpos, how that fortune over-throwe 1460

Hath lordes olde; through which, with-inne a throwe,

Thou wel this boor shalt knowe, and of what kinde

He comen is, as men in bokes finde.

`Diane, which that wrooth was and in ire

For Grekes nolde doon hir sacrifyse, 1465

Ne encens up-on hir auter sette a-fyre,

She, for that Grekes gonne hir so dispyse,

Wrak hir in a wonder cruel wyse.

For with a boor as greet as oxe in stalle

She made up frete hir corn and vynes alle. 1470

`To slee this boor was al the contree reysed,

A-monges which ther com, this boor to