Yet Troilus, for all this no word said,
But long he laie still, as he dead were,
And after this, with siking he abraid,
And to Pandarus voice he lent his eare,
And vp his eyen cast he: and than in feare
Was Pandarus least that in frenseye,
He should either fall or else soone deye.

And sayd, "Awake," full wonderlich and sharpė.
"What slumbrest thon, as in a litergie?
Or art thou like an asse to the harpe,
That heareth sound, whan men the stringes ply,
But in his mind, of that no melodie
May sinke him to gladen, for that he
So dull is, in his beastialite?"

And with this Pandare of his wordes stent:
But Troilus to him nothing answerde,
For why, to tell was nought his entent
Never to no man, for whome that he so ferde:
For it is sayd, men maken oft a yerde
With which the maker is himselfe ibeten
In sundrie manner, as these wise men treten.

And nameliche in his counsaile telling,
That toucheth love, that ought been secre:
For of himselfe it woll inough out spring
But if that it the bet gouerned be.
Eke sometime it is craft to seeme flee
Fro thing which in effect men hunten fast:
All this gan Troilus in his herte cast.

But natheles, whan he had heard him crie,
Awake he gan, and sike wonder sore:
And sayd, "My friende, though that I still lie,
I am not deefe, now peace and crie no more:
For I have heard thy wordes and thy lore,
But suffer me my fortune to bewailen,
For thy proverbes may nought me availen.

"Nor other cure canst thou none for me,
Eke I nill not been cured, I woll die :
What know I of the queene Niobe?
Let be thine old ensamples, I thee prey."
"No friend," (quod Pandarus) " therfore I sey,
Such is delight of fooles to beweepe

Hir woe, but to seeken bote they ne keepe.

"Now know I that reason in thee faileth: But tell me, if I wiste what she were For whome that thee all misaventure aileth, Durste thou that I told it in her eare Thy woe, sith thou darst not thy self for fear, And her besought on thee to han some routh?" "Why, nay," (quod he) "by God and by my trouth." "What, not as busily" (quod Pandarus) "As though mine owne life lay in this need?” "Why, no parde, sir," (quod this Troilus.) [speed." "And why?". "For that thou shouldest never "Wost thou that well?""Ye, that is out of dreed," (Quod Troilus) "for all that ever ye conne, She woll to no such wretch as I be wonne." (Quod Pandarus)" Alas what may this be, That thou dispaired art, thus causelesse ? What, liveth nat thy ladie, benedicite ? How wost thou so, that thou art gracelesse? Such evill is not alway botelesse: Why, put not thus impossible thy cure, Sith thing to com is oft in aventure.

"I graunt weil that thou endurest wơ,
As sharpe as doth he Tesiphus in Hell,
Whose stomacke foules tiren evermo,
That highten vultures, as bookes tell:
But I may not endure that thou dwell
In so unskilfull an opinion,

That of thy woe nis no curation.

"But ones nill thou, for thy coward herte,
And for thine yre, and foolish wilfulnesse,
For wantrust tellen of thy sorrowes smert,
Ne to thine owne helpe do businesse,
As much as speake a word, yea more or lesse;
But lyest as he that of life nothing retch,
What woman living coud love such a wretch?

"What may she demen other of thy death,
If thou thus die, and she not why it is,
But that for feare, is yolden vp thy breath,
For Greekes han besieged vs iwis?
Lord, which a thank shalt thou have than of this
Thus woll she saine, and all the toun atones,
The wretch is deed, the divel have his bones.

"Thou mayest alone here weepe, cry, and knele,
And love a woman that she wote it nought,
And she will quite it that thou shalt not feel:
Unknow vnkist, and lost that is vnsought.
What, many a man hath love full dere ibought
Twentie winter that his ladie ne wist,

That never yet his ladies mouth he kist.

"What, should he therfore fallen in dispair?
Or be receaunt for his owne tene,

Or slaine himselfe, all be his ladie faire ?
Nay, nay: but ever in one be fresh and green,
To serve and love his dere hertes queen,
And thinke it is a guerdone her to serve
A thousand part more than he can deserve."

And of that worde tooke heede Troilus,
And thought anon, what folly he was in,
And how that sooth him sayed Pandarus,
That for to slaien himselfe, might he not win,
But both doen vnmanhood and a sinne
And of his death his ladie nought to wite,
For of his woe, God wote she knew full lite.

And with that thought, he gan full sore sike,
And sayd, "Alas, what is me best to doe?"
To whome Pandare sayed, "If thee it like,
The best is, that thou telle me thy woe,
And have my trouth, but if thou finde it so
I be thy boote, or it been full long,
To peeces doe me drawe, and sithen hong."

"Yea, so sayest thou," (quod Troilus)" alas,
But God wote it is nought the rather so:
Full hard it were to helpen in this eaas,
For well finde 1, that Fortune is my fo:
Ne all the men that ride con or go,
May of her cruell whele the harme withstond,
For as her list, she playeth with free and bond."

(Quod Pandarus) " Than blamest thou Fortune,
For thou art wroth, ye now at earst I see,
Wost thou not well that Fortune is commune
To everie manner wight, in some degree?
And yet thou hast this comfort, lo parde,
That as her ioyes moten overgone,

So mote her sorrowes passen everichone.

"For if her whele stint any thing to tourne,
Than cesseth she Fortune anone to be:
Now sith her whele by no way may soiourn,
What wost thou of her mutabilitie?
Whether as thy self lust she woll don by thee,
Or that she be nought ferre fro thine helping,
Peraventure thou hast cause for to sing.

"And therfore wost thou what I thee beseech?
Let be thy woe, and tourning to the ground:
For who so list have healing of his leech,
To him behooveth first vnwrie his wound:
To Cerberus in Hell aie be I bound,
Wer it for my suster all thy sorrow,
By my will she should be thine to morrow.

"Looke vp, I say, and tell me what she is
Anone, that I may gone about thy need:
Know ich her aught, for my love tell me this;
Than would I hope rather for to speed."
Tho gan the veine of Troilus to bleed,"
For he was hit, and woxe all redde for shame,
Aha,"
‚" (quod Pandare) "here beginneth game."

And with that word, he gan him for to shake,
And sayd him thus, "Thou shalt her name
But tho gan sely Troilus for to quake,
As though men should han had him into Hell,
And sayed, "Alas, of all my woe the well,
Than is my sweete foe called Creseide,"
And well nigh with that word for feare he deide.

And whan that Pandare herd her name neven,
Lord, he was glad, and saied, "Friend so deere,
Now fare a right, for Joves name in Heaven,
Love hath beset thee well, be of good cheere,
For of good name, and wisdom, and manere
She hath inough, and eke of gentlenesse :
If she be faire, thou wost thy selfe, I gesse.

"Ne never seie I a more bounteous
Of her estate, ne a gladder: ne of speech
A friendlyer, ne more gracious

For to doe well, ne lasse had ned to seech
What for to doen, and all this bet to ech
In honour to as farre as she may stretch:
A kinges herte seemeth by hers a wretch.

"And forthy, look of good comfort thou be :
For certainely the first point is this
Of noble courage, and well ordaine the
A man to have peace with himselfe iwis :
So oughtest thou, for nought but good it is,
To loven well, and in a worthy place,
Thee ought not clepe it happe, but grace.
"And also thinke, and therewith glad thee,
That sith the ladie vertuous is all,
So followeth it, that there is some pitee
Amonges all these other in generall,
And for they see that thou in speciall
Require nought, that is ayen her name,
For vertue stretcheth not himself to shame.

"But well is me, that ever I was born,
That thou beset art in so good a place:
For by my trouth in love I durst have sworn,
Thee should never have tidde so fair a grace,
And wost thou why? for thou were wont to chace
At Love in scorne, and for dispite him call
Saint Idiote, lord of these fooles all.

If I misspake, for now my selfe, I love :'
Thus say with all thine herte, in good entent."
(Quod Troilus) " Ah lord, I me consent,
And pray to thee, my yapes thou foryeve,
And I shall never more while I live."

"Thou sayst wel," (quod Pandare)" and now I hope
That thou the goddes wrath hast all appeased:
And sith thou hast wepten many a drop,
And saied such thing wherwith thy god is plesed,
Now would never god, but thou were eased:
And think well she, of whom rest all thy wo,
Here after may thy comfort been also.

"For thilke ground, that beareth the wedes wick,
Beareth eke these holsome herbes, as full oft
Next the foule nettle, rough and thick,
The rose wexeth, soote, smooth, and soft,
And next the valey is the hill a loft,
And next the derke night the glad morowe,
And also ioy is next the fine of sorrow.
"Now looke that attempre be thy bridell,
And for the best aie suffer to the tide,
Or else all our labour is on idell,
He hasteth well, that wisely can abide :
Be diligent and true, and aie well hide,
Be lustie, free, persever in thy servise,
And all is well, if thou worke in this wise.

"But he that departed is in everie place
Is no where hole, as writen clerkes wise:
What wonder is, if such one have no grace?
Eke wost thou how it fareth of some service,
As plant a tree or herbe, in sondrie wise,
And on the morrow pull it vp as blive,
No wonder is, though it may never thrive.

"And sith the god of love hath thee bestowed
In place digne vnto thy worthinesse,
Stonde fast, for to good port hast thou rowed,
And of thy selfe, for any heavinesse,
Hope alwaie well, for but if drerinesse
Or over hast both our labour shend,
I hope of this to maken a good end,

EXPLICIT LIBER SECUNDUS.

Out of these black wawes let vs for to seil,
O winde, now the weather ginneth clere :
For in the sea the boate hath such trauaile
Of my conning, that vnneth I it stere:
This sea clepe I the tempestous matere
Of deepe dispaire, that Troilus was in:
But now of hope the kalendes begin.

O lady mine, that called art Cleo,

Thou be my spede fro this forth, and my Muse,
To rime well this booke till I have do,
Me needeth bere none other art to vse:
For why, to every lover I me excuse,
That of no sentement I this endite,

But out of Latine in my tongue it write.

Wherefore I nil have neither thank ne blame
Of all this worke: but pray you mekely,
Disblameth me, if any word be lame,
For as mine authour said, so say I:
Eke though I speake of love vnfeelingly,
No wonder is, for it nothing of new is,
A blind man cannot judgen well in hewis.

I know, that in forme of speech is change
Within a thousand yere, and wordes tho
That hadden prise, now wonder nice and strange
Thinketh hem, and yet they spake hem so,
And spedde as well in love, as men now do :
Eke for to winnen love, in sundry ages,
In sundry londes sundry ben vsages.

And forthy, if it happe in any wise,
That here be any lover in this place,
That herkenneth, as the story woll devise,
How Troilus came to his ladies grace,
And thinketh, so nolde I not love purchase,
Or wondreth on his speech or his doing,
I not, but it is to me no wondring:

For every wight, which that to Rome went,
Halt nat o pathe, ne alway o manere:
Eke in some lond were all the gamen shent,
If that men farde in love, as men done here,
As thus, in open doing or in chere,
In visiting, in forme, or said our saws,
Forthy men sain, ech country hath his laws.

Eke scarsely ben there in this place three,
That have in love said like, and done in all:
For to this purpose this may liken thee,
And thee right nought, yet all is done or shall:
Eke some men graue in tre, som in stone wall,
As it betide, but sith I have begonne,
Mine authour shall I follow, as I konne.

INCIPIT LIBER SECUNDUS.

In May, that mother is of moneths glade,
That the fresh floures, both blew, white, and rede,
Ben quick ayen, that winter dead made,
And full of baume is fleting every mede,
Whan Phebus doth his brighte beames spred,
Right in the white Bole, it so betidde,
As I shall sing, on Maies day the thridde,

That Pandarus, for all his wise speach,
Felt eke his part of Loves shottes kene,
That coud he never so well of loving preach,
It made his hew a day full ofte grene:
So shope it, that him fill that day a tene
In love, for which in wo to bed he went,
And made ere it were day full many a went.

The swallow Progne, with a sorrowfull lay,
Whan morrow come, gan make her waimenting
Why she forshapen was: and ever lay
Pandare a bed, halfe in a slombring,
Till she so nigh him made her waimenting,
How Tereus gan forth her suster take,
That with the noise of her he gan awake,

And to call, and dresse him vp to rise,
Remembring him his arrand was to done
From Troilus, and eke his great emprise,
And cast, and knew in good plite was the Moone
To done voiage, and tooke his way full soone
Unto his neces paleis there beside:
Now Ianus god of entre, thou him guide.

When he was come vnto his neces place,
"Where is my lady," to her folke (quod he)
And they him told, and be forth in gan pace,
And found two other ladies sit and shee,
Within a paued parlour, and they three
Herden a maiden hem reden the geste
Of the seige of Thebes, while hem leste:

(Quod Pandarus) " Madame, God you see, With your booke, and all the companie:" "Eigh, vncle mine, welcome iwis," (quod shee) And vp she rose, and by the hond in hie She tooke him fast, and said, “This night thrie, To good mote it turne, of you I met :" Aud with that word, she downe on bench him set.

"Yea, nece, ye shull faren well the bet,
If God woll, all this yeare," (quod Pandarus)
"But I am sorry that I have you let
To hearken of your booke, ye praisen thus:
For Godes love what saith it, tell it vs,
Is it of love, or some good ye me lere?"
"Uncle" (quod she) "your maistresse is nat here.”

With that they gonnen laugh, and tho she seide,
"This romaunce is of Thebes, that we rede,
And we have heard how that king Laius deide
Through Edippus his sonne, and al the dede:
And here we stinten, at these letters rede,
How the bishop, as the booke can tell,
Amphiorax, fell through the ground to Hell."

(Quod Pandarus)" All this know I my selue,
And all thassiege of Thebes, and the care,
For hereof ben there maked bookes twelue:
But let be this, and tell me how ye fare,
Do way your barbe, and shew your face bare,
Do way your book, rise vp and let vs daunce,
And let vs done to May some obseruaunce."

"Eighe, God forbid :" (quod she) “be ye mad?
Is that a widdowes life, so God you save?
By God ye maken me right sore adrad,
Ye ben so wild, it seemeth as ye raue,

It sat me well bet aye in a caue

To bide, and rede on holy saintes liues:

Let maidens gon to daunce, and yonge wives."

"As ever thriue 1," (quod this Padarus) "Yet could I tell o thing, to done you play:" "Now vncle dere," (quod she) "tell it vs For Godes love, is than thassiege awey? I am of Greekes ferde, so that I dey:" "Nay, nay," (quod he) “as ever mote I thriue, It is a thing well bet than suche fiue."

"Ye holy God," (quod she) "what thing is that,
What, bet than suche five? eighe nay iwis,
For all this world ne can I reden what
It shoulde ben; some iape I trow it is,
And but your selven tell us what it is,
My wit is for to arede it all to leane :

As helpe me God, I not what that ye meane."

"And I your borow, ne never shall,” (quod he) "This thing be told to you, as mote I thrive :" "And why, uncle mine, why so?" (quod she) "By God," (quod he) “that woll I tell as blive, For prouder woman is there none on live, And ye it wist, in all the toune of Troy : I iape nat, so ever have I joy."

Tho gan she wondren more than before,

A thousand fold, and downe her eyen cast:
For never sith the time that she was bore,
To knowen thing desired she so fast,
And with a sike, she said him at the last,
"Now uncle mine, I nill you not displease,
Nor asken more, that may do you disease."

So after this, with many wordes glade,
And friendly tales, and with merry chere,
Of this and that they speake, and gonnen wade
In many an unkouth glad and deepe matere,
As friendes done, whan they bethe ifere,
Till she gan asken him how Hector ferde,
That was the tounes wall, and Greekes yerde.
"Full wel I thanke it God," said Pandarus,
"Save in his arme he hath a little wound,
And eke his fresh brother Troilus,
The wise worthy Hector the secound,
In whom that every vertue list habound,
And first all trouthe, and all gentlenesse,
Wisedom, honour, freedom, and worthinesse."

"In good faith., eme," (quod she) "that liketh me,
They faren well, God save hem both two:
For trewliche, I hold it great deintie,
A kinges sonne in armes well to do,
And be of good conditions thereto :
For great power, and morall vertue here
Is selde iseene in one persone ifere."

"In good faith, that is sooth" (quod Pandarus)
"But by my trouth the king hath sonnes twey,
That is to meane, Hector and Troilus,
That certainly though that I should dey,
They ben as void of vices, dare I sey,
As any men that liven under Sunne,

Hir might is wide iknow, and what they conne.

"Of Hector needeth it no more for to tell,
In all this world there nis a better knight
Than he, that is of worthinesse the well,
And he well more vertue hath than might,
This knoweth many a wise and worthy knight:
And the same prise of Troilus I sey,
God helpe me so, I know not suche twey."

"What eileth you to be weary thus soone,
And nameliche of women, woll ye so?
Nay sitteth doune, by God I haue to done
With you, to speake of wisedome er ye go:"
And every wight that was about hem tho,
That heard that, gan ferre away to stond,
While they two had all that hem list in hond.
Whan that her tale all brought was to an end
Of her estate, and of her governaunce,
(Quod Pandarus) "Now time is that I wend,
But yet I say, ariseth, let us daunce,
And cast your widdows habit to mischaunce:
What list you thus your selfe to disfigure,
Sith you is tidde so glad an aventure?"

"But well bethought: for love of God," (quod she)
Shall I not weten what ye meane of this?"
No, this thing asketh leaser tho," (quod he)
"And eke me would full much greve iwis.
If I it told, and ye it tooke amis:

Yet were it bette my tongue to hold still,
Than say a sooth, that were ayenst your will.

"For nece mine, by the goddesse Minerve,
And Jupiter, that maketh the thunderring,
And the blisfull Uenus, that I serve,
Ye ben the woman in this world living
Withouten paramours, to my weting,
That I best love, and lothest am to greve,
And that ye weten well your selfe, I leve."

"Iwis mine uncle," (quod she) "graunt mercy, Your friendship have I foundeu ever yet,

I am to no man beholden truely
So much as you, and have so little quit:
And with the grace of God, emforth my wit
As in my guilt, I shall you never offend,
And if I have ere this, I woll amend.