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The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, That was the king Priamus sone of Troye, In lovinge, how his aventures fellen Fro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye, My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte Thise woful vers, that wepen a
Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book by Geoffrey Chaucer
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To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment, Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne; Help me, that am the sorwful instrument That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne! For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne, A woful wight to han a drery fere, And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere.
For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve, Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse, Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve, So fer am I fro his help in derknesse; But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse To any lover, and his cause avayle, Have he my thank, and myn be this travayle!
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`Loke up, I seye, and tel me what she is Anoon, that I may goon aboute thy nede; Knowe ich hir ought? For my love, tel me this; Than wolde I hopen rather for to spede.’ Tho gan the veyne of Troilus to blede, For he was hit, and wex al reed for shame; `A ha!’ quod Pandare.
`Here biginneth game!’ And with that word he gan him for to shake, And seyde, `Theef, thou shalt hir name telle.’ But tho gan sely Troilus for to quake As though men sholde han led him in-to helle, And seyde, `Allas! Of al my wo the welle, Than is my swete fo called Criseyde!’ And wel nigh with the word for fere he deyde.
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And whan that Pandare herde hir name nevene, Lord, he was glad, and seyde, `Freend so dere, Now fare a-right, for Ioves name in hevene, Love hath biset the wel, be of good chere; For of good name and wysdom and manere She hath y-nough, and eek of gentilesse; If she be fayr, thou wost thy-self, I gesse,
`Ne I never saw a more bountevous Of hir estat, ne a gladder, ne of speche A freendlier, ne a more gracious For to do wel, ne lasse hadde nede to seche What for to doon; and al this bet to eche, In honour, to as fer as she may strecche, A kinges herte semeth by hirs a wrecche.
`And for-thy loke of good comfort thou be; For certeinly, the firste poynt is this Of noble corage and wel ordeyne, A man to have pees with him-self, y-wis; So oughtest thou, for nought but good it is To loven wel, and in a worthy place; Thee oghte not to clepe it hap, but grace. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book
`And also thenk, and ther-with glade thee, That sith thy lady vertuous is al, So folweth it that ther is som pitee Amonges alle thise othere in general; And for-thy see that thou, in special, Requere nought that is ayein hir name; For vertue streccheth not him-self to shame. `But wel is me that ever that I was born, That thou biset art in so good a place.
For by my trouthe, in love I dorste have sworn, Thee sholde never han tid thus fayr a grace; And wostow why? For thou were wont to chace At Love in scorn, and for despyt him calle “Seynt Idiot, lord of thise foles alle.” `How often hastow maad thy nyce Iapes, And seyd, that loves servants everichone Of nycetee been verray goddes apes.
And some wolde monche hir mete alone, Ligging a-bedde, and make hem for to grone; `Now here, now there, he hunted hem so faste, Ther nas but Grekes blood; and Troilus, Now hem he hurte, and hem alle doun he caste; Ay where he wente, it was arayed thus: He was hir deeth, and sheld and lyf for us. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book
That as that day ther dorste noon with-stonde, Whyl that he held his blody swerd in honde. `Therto he is the freendlieste man Of grete estat, that ever I saw my lyve; And wher him list, best felawshipe can To suche as him thinketh able for to thryve.’ And with that word tho Pandarus, as blyve, He took his leve, and seyde, `I wol go henne.’
`Nay, blame have I, myn uncle,’ quod she thenne. `What eyleth yow to be thus wery sone, And namelich of wommen? Wol ye so? Nay, sitteth down; by god, I have to done With yow, to speke of wisdom er ye go.’ And every wight that was a-boute hem tho, That herde that, gan fer a-wey to stonde, Whyl they two hadde al that hem liste in honde.
Whan that hir tale al brought was to an ende, Of hire estat and of hir governaunce, Quod Pandarus, `Now is it tyme I wende; But yet, I seye, aryseth, lat us daunce, And cast your widwes habit to mischaunce: What list yow thus your-self to disfigure, Sith yow is tid thus fair an aventure?’ Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book
`A! Wel bithought! For love of god,’ quod she, `Shal I not witen what ye mene of this?’ `No, this thing axeth layser,’ tho quod he, `And eek me wolde muche greve, y-wis, If I it tolde, and ye it toke amis. Yet were it bet my tonge for to stille Than seye a sooth that were ayeins your wille.
Compleyned eek Eleyne of his syknesse So feithfully, that pitee was to here, And every wight gan waxen for accesse A leche anoon, and seyde, `In this manere Men curen folk; this charme I wol yow lere.’ But ther sat oon, al list hir nought to teche, That thoughte, best coude I yet been his leche.
After compleynt, him gonnen they to preyse, As folk don yet, whan som wight hath bigonne To preyse a man, and up with prys him reyse 1585 A thousand fold yet hyer than the sonne: — `He is, he can, that fewe lordes conne.’ And Pandarus, of that they wolde afferme, He not for-gat hir preysing to conferme. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book
Herde al this thing Criseyde wel y-nough, And every word gan for to notifye; For which with sobre chere hir herte lough; For who is that ne wolde hir glorifye, To mowen swich a knight don live or dye? But al passe I, lest ye to longe dwelle; For for o fyn is al that ever I telle.
The tyme com, fro diner for to ryse, And, as hem oughte, arisen everychoon, And gonne a while of this and that devyse. But Pandarus brak al this speche anoon, And seyde to Deiphebus, `Wole ye goon, If youre wille be, as I yow preyde, To speke here of the nedes of Criseyde?’
Eleyne, which that by the hond hir held, Took first the tale, and seyde, `Go we blyve;’ And goodly on Criseyde she biheld, And seyde, `Ioves lat him never thryve, That dooth yow harm, and bringe him sone of lyve! And yeve me sorwe, but he shal it rewe, If that I may, and alle folk be trewe.’ Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Download
And, lord! So he gan goodly on hir see, That never his look ne bleynte from hir face, And seyde, `O dere herte, may it be That it be sooth, that ye ben in this place?’ `Ye, herte myn, god thank I of his grace!’ Quod tho Criseyde, and therwith-al him kiste, That where his spirit was, for Ioye he niste.
This Troilus ful ofte hir eyen two Gan for to kisse, and seyde, `O eyen clere, It were ye that wroughte me swich wo, Ye humble nettes of my lady dere! Though ther be mercy writen in your chere, God wot, the text ful hard is, sooth, to finde, How coude ye with-outen bond me binde?’
Therwith he gan hir faste in armes take, And wel an hundred tymes gan he syke, Nought swiche sorwfull sykes as men make For wo, or elles whan that folk ben syke, But esy sykes, swiche as been to lyke, That shewed his affeccioun with-inne; Of swiche sykes coude he nought bilinne. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Download
Sone after this they speke of sondry thinges, As fil to purpos of this aventure, And pleyinge entrechaungeden hir ringes, Of which I can nought tellen no scripture; But wel I woot, a broche, gold and asure, In whiche a ruby set was lyk an herte, Criseyde him yaf, and stak it on his sherte.
Lord! trowe ye, a coveitous, a wreccbe, That blameth love and holt of it despyt, That, of tho pens that he can mokre and kecche, Was ever yet y-yeve him swich delyt, As is in love, in oo poynt, in som plyt? Nay, doutelees, for also god me save, So parfit Ioye may no nigard have! They wol sey `Yis,’ but lord! So that they lye.
Tho bisy wrecches, ful of wo and drede! They callen love a woodnesse or folye, But it shal falle hem as I shal yow rede; They shul forgo the whyte and eke the rede, And live in wo, ther god yeve hem mischaunce, And every lover in his trouthe avaunce! As wolde god, tho wrecches, that dispyse Servyse of love. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Download
hadde eres al-so longe As hadde Myda, ful of coveityse, And ther-to dronken hadde as hoot and stronge As Crassus dide for his affectis wronge, To techen hem that they ben in the vyce, And loveres nought, al-though they holde hem nyce! Thise ilke two, of whom that I yow seye, Whan that hir hertes wel assured were.
Tho gonne they to speken and to pleye, And eek rehercen how, and whanne, and where, They knewe hem first, and every wo and fere That passed was; but al swich hevinesse, I thanke it god, was tourned to gladnesse. He rist him up, and every dore he shette And windowe eek, and tho this sorweful man Up-on his beddes syde a-doun him sette,
Ful lyk a deed image pale and wan; And in his brest the heped wo bigan Out-breste, and he to werken in this wyse In his woodnesse, as I shal yow devyse. Right as the wilde bole biginneth springe Now here, now there, y-darted to the herte, And of his deeth roreth in compleyninge. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Free
Right so gan he aboute the chaumbre sterte, Smyting his brest ay with his festes smerte; His heed to the wal, his body to the grounde Ful ofte he swapte, him-selven to confounde. His eyen two, for pitee of his herte, Out stremeden as swifte welles tweye.
The heighe sobbes of his sorwes smerte His speche him refte, unnethes mighte he seye, `O deeth, allas! Why niltow do me deye? A-cursed be the day which that nature Shoop me to ben a lyves creature!’ But after, whan the furie and the rage Which that his herte twiste and faste threste, By lengthe of tyme somwhat gan asswage.
Up-on his bed he leyde him doun to reste; But tho bigonne his teres more out-breste, That wonder is, the body may suffyse To half this wo, which that I yow devyse. Than seyde he thus, `Fortune! Allas the whyle! What have I doon, what have I thus a-gilt? Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Free
How mightestow for reuthe me bigyle? Is ther no grace, and shal I thus be spilt? Shal thus Criseyde awey, for that thou wilt? Allas! How maystow in thyn herte finde To been to me thus cruel and unkinde? `Have I thee nought honoured al my lyve, As thou wel wost, above the goddes alle? Why wiltow me fro Ioye thus depryve?
O Troilus, what may men now thee calle But wrecche of wrecches, out of honour falle In-to miserie, in which I wol biwayle Criseyde, allas! Til that the breeth me fayle? `Allas, Fortune! If that my lyf in Ioye Displesed hadde un-to thy foule envye.
Why ne haddestow my fader, king of Troye, By-raft the lyf, or doon my bretheren dye, Or slayn my-self, that thus compleyne and crye, I, combre-world, that may of no-thing serve, But ever dye, and never fully sterve? And with his chere and loking al to-torn. Troilus and Criseyde PDF Book Free
For sorwe of this, and with his armes folden, He stood this woful Troilus biforn, And on his pitous face he gan biholden; But lord, so often gan his herte colden, Seing his freend in wo, whos hevinesse His herte slow, as thoughte him, for distresse.