"And God wot never sith that I was borne
Was I so busie no man for to preache,
Ne never was to wight so depe sworne,
Er he me told, who might been his leache;
But not to you rehearsen all his speach,
Or all his wofull wordes for to sowne,
Ne bid me nought, but ye woll se me swone.
"But for to save his life, and eles nought,
And to none harme of you, thus am I driven,
And for the love of God that us hath wrought
Soche chere him doth, that he and I maie liven;
Now have I plat to you mine herte shriven,
And sith ye wote that mine entent is cleane
Take hede thereof, for none evill I meane.
"And right good thrift, I pray to God have
That han soche one ycaught withouten net,
And be ye wise, as ye be faire to se,
Well in the ring, than is the rubie set;
There were never two so well ymet
Whan ye been his all hole, as he is your:
There mightie God yet graunt us to se the hour."
"Naie thereof spake I nat: A ha!" (quod she)
"As helpe me God, ye shenden every dele:"
"A mercie, dere nece, anon" (quod he)
"What so I spake, I ment nought but wele,
By Mars the god, that helmed is of stele:
Now beth not wroth, my blood, my nece dere.'
Now well," (quod she) "foryeven be it here."
With this he toke his leave, and home he went,
Ye, Lord, how he was glad, and well bigon :
Creseide arose, no lenger she ne shent,
But streight into her closet went anon,
And set her doune, as still as any stone,
And every word gan up and doune to wind, That he had said as it came her to mind.
And woxe somdele astonied in her thought,
Right for the newe case, but whan that she
Was full avised, tho found she right nought,
Of perill, why that she ought aferde be:
For man may love of possibilite
A woman so, his herte may to brest,
And she nat love ayen, but if her lest.
But as she sat alone, and thought thus,
Th'ascrie arose at skarmoch all without,
And men cried in the strete, "Se Troilus
Hath right now put to flight the Grekes rout."
With that gonne all her meine for to shout:
“A, go we se, cast up the gates wide,
For through this strete he mote to paleis ride."
For other waie is fro the gates none,
Of Dardanus, there open is the cheine:
With that come he, and all his folke anone
An easie pace riding, in routes tweine,
Right as his happy day was, soth to seine:
For which men saith, may not distourbed be
That shall betide of necessite.
This Troilus sat on his baie stede
All armed save his head full richely,
And wounded was his horse, and gan to blede, On which he rode a pace full softely:
But such a knightly sight truely
As was on him, was nat withouten faile
To loke on Mars, that god is of battaile.
So like a man of armes, and a knight
He was to seen, fulfilled of high prowesse,
For both he had a body, and might
To doen that thing, as well as hardinesse,
And eke to seen him in his geare dresse
So freshe, so yong, so weldy semed he,
It was an heaven upon him for to se.
His helme to hewen was in twenty places,
That by a tissue hong, his backe behind,
His shelde to dashed with swerds and with maces,
In which men might many an arowe find,
That thirled had both horn, nerfe, and rind:
Andaie the people cried, "Here cometh our joie,
And next his brother, holder up of Troie."
For which he wext a little redde for shame
Whan he so heard the people upon him crien,
That to behold it was a noble game,
How soberliche he cast adoune his eyen:
Creseide anon gan all his chere espien,
And let it so soft in hir herte sinke,
That to her self she said, "Who yave me drinke?"
For all her own thought, she woxe all redde,
Remembring her right thus, "Lo this is he,
Which that mine uncle swereth he mote dedde,
But I on him have mercie and pite:"
And with that thought, for pure ashamed she,
Gan in her hedde to pull, and that as fast,
While he and all the people forth by past.
And gan to cast, and rollen up and doun
Within her thought his excellent prowesse,
And his estate, and also his renoun,
His witte, his shape, and eke his gentilnesse,
But most her favour was, for his distresse
Was all for her, and thought it were a routh,
To slaen soche one, if that he ment trouth.
Now might some envious jangle thus,
"This was a sodain love, how might it be,
That she so lightly loved Troilus?
Right for the first sight: ye, parde?"
Now whoso saied so, mote he never the:
For every thing a ginning hath it nede
Er all be wrought, withouten any drede.
For I saie nat that she so sodainly
Yafe him her love, but that she gan encline
To liken him tho, and I have told you why:
And after that, his manhode, and his pine,
Made that love within her gan to mine:
For which by processe, and by good service
He wanne her love, and in no sodain wise.
And all so blisfull Venus wele araied
Satte in her seventh house of Heven tho,
Disposed wele, and with aspectes payed,
To helpe sely Troilus of his wo:
And sothe to sayne, she n'as nat all a foe
To Troilus, in his natyvyte,
God wote that wele the sooner spede he.
Now let us stente of Troilus a throw,
That rideth forth, and let us tourne fast
Unto Creseide, that heng her hedde full low,
There as she satte alone, and gan to cast
Whereon she would appoint her at the last,
If it so were her eme ne would cesse,
For Troilus upon her for to presse.
And lorde so she gan in her thought argue
In this matter, of which I have you told,
And what to doen best were, and what eschue,
That plited she full oft in many fold:
Now was hir herte warme, now was it cold.
And what she thought, somwhat shall I write,
As mine authour listeth for t'endite.
She thought first, that Troilus person
She knew by sight and eke his gentelnesse :
And thus she said, "All were it nought to doen
To grant him love, yet for his worthinesse,
It were honor with plaie, and with gladnesse,
In honeste with soch a lorde to deale,
For mine estate, and also for his heale.
"Eke well wote I, my kinges sonne is he,
And sith he hath to see me soch delite,
If I would utterliche his sight flie,
Paraventure he might have me in dispite,
Through which I might stond in wors plite:
Now were I wise, me hate to purchase
Without nede, there I may stande in grace?
"In every thing, I wot there lieth measure :
For though a man forbid dronkennesse,
He nought forbiddeth that every creature
Be drinkelesse for alway, as I gesse:
Eke, sithe I wot for me is his distresse,
I ne ought not for that thing him dispise,
Sith it is so, he meaneth in good wise.
"And eke I know, of long time agone
His thewes good, and that he nis not nice,
No vauntour saine men, certain he is none,
To wise is he to doen so great a vice:
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