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That haunteth armes oughte to biwayle

The deeth of him that was so noble a knight;

For as he drough a king by thaventayle,

Unwar of this, Achilles through the mayle

And through the body gan him for to ryve; 1560

And thus this worthy knight was brought of lyve.

For whom, as olde bokes tellen us,

Was mad swich wo, that tonge it may not telle;

And namely, the sorwe of Troilus,

That next him was of worthinesse welle. 1565

And in this wo gan Troilus to dwelle,

That, what for sorwe, and love, and for unreste,

Ful ofte a day he bad his herte breste.

But natheles, though he gan him dispeyre,

And dradde ay that his lady was untrewe, 1570

Yet ay on hir his herte gan repeyre.

And as these loveres doon, he soughte ay newe

To gete ayein Criseyde, bright of hewe.

And in his herte he wente hir excusinge,

That Calkas causede al hir taryinge. 1575

And ofte tyme he was in purpos grete

Him-selven lyk a pilgrim to disgyse,

To seen hir; but he may not contrefete

To been unknowen of folk that weren wyse,

Ne finde excuse aright that may suffyse, 1580

If he among the Grekes knowen were;

For which he weep ful ofte many a tere.

To hir he wroot yet ofte tyme al newe

Ful pitously, he lefte it nought for slouthe,

Biseching hir that, sin that he was trewe, 1585

She wolde come ayein and holde hir trouthe.

For which Criseyde up-on a day, for routhe,

I take it so, touchinge al this matere,

Wrot him ayein, and seyde as ye may here.

`Cupydes sone, ensample of goodlihede, 1590

O swerd of knighthod, sours of gentilesse!

How might a wight in torment and in drede

And helelees, yow sende as yet gladnesse?

I hertelees, I syke, I in distresse;

Sin ye with me, nor I with yow may dele, 1595

Yow neither sende ich herte may nor hele.

`Your lettres ful, the papir al y-pleynted,

Conceyved hath myn hertes pietee;

I have eek seyn with teres al depeynted

Your lettre, and how that ye requeren me 1600

To come ayein, which yet ne may not be.

But why, lest that this lettre founden were,

No mencioun ne make I now, for fere.

`Grevous to me, god woot, is your unreste,

Your haste, and that, the goddes ordenaunce, 1605

It semeth not ye take it for the beste.

Nor other thing nis in your remembraunce,

As thinketh me, but only your plesaunce.

But beth not wrooth, and that I yow biseche;

For that I tarie, is al for wikked speche. 1610

`For I have herd wel more than I wende,

Touchinge us two, how thinges han y-stonde;

Which I shal with dissimulinge amende.

And beth nought wrooth, I have eek understonde,

How ye ne doon but holden me in honde. 1615

But now no fors, I can not in yow gesse

But alle trouthe and alle gentilesse.

`Comen I wol, but yet in swich disioynte

I stonde as now, that what yeer or what day

That this shal be, that can I not apoynte. 1620

But in effect, I prey yow, as I may,

Of your good word and of your frendship ay.

For trewely, whyl that my lyf may dure,

As for a freend, ye may in me assure.

`Yet preye I yow on yvel ye ne take, 1625

That it is short which that I to yow wryte;

I dar not, ther I am, wel lettres make,

Ne never yet ne coude I wel endyte.

Eek greet effect men wryte in place lite.

Thentente is al, and nought the lettres space; 1630

And fareth now wel, god have you in his grace!

La vostre C.'

This Troilus this lettre thoughte al straunge,

Whan he it saugh, and sorwefully he sighte;

Him thoughte it lyk a kalendes of chaunge;

But fynally, he ful ne trowen mighte 1635

That she ne wolde him holden that she highte;

For with ful yvel wil list him to leve

That loveth wel, in swich cas, though him greve.

But natheles, men seyn that, at the laste,

For any thing, men shal the sothe see; 1640

And swich a cas bitidde, and that as faste,

That Troilus wel understood that she

Nas not so kinde as that hir oughte be.

And fynally, he woot now, out of doute,

That al is lost that he hath been aboute. 1645

Stood on a day in his malencolye

This Troilus, and in suspecioun

Of hir for whom he wende for to dye.

And so bifel, that through-out Troye toun,

As was the