Thocht feinyeit fabils of ald poetre
Be not al grunded upon truth yit than
Thair polite termes of sweit rhetore
Richt plesand ar unto the eir of man
And als the caus quhy that thay first began
Wes to repreif the of thi misleving
O man be figure of ane uther thing
In lyke maner as throw the bustious eird
Swa it be laubourit with grit diligence
Springis the flouris and the corne abreird
Hailsum and gude to mannis sustenence
Sa dois spring thair ane morall sweit sentence
Oute of the subtell dyte of poetry
To gude purpois quha culd it weill apply
The nuttis schell thocht it be hard and teuch
Haldis the kirnell sueit and delectabill
Sa lyis thair ane doctrine wyse aneuch
And full of frute under ane fenyeit fabill
And clerkis sayis it is richt profitabill
Amangis ernist to ming ane merie sport
To light the spreit and gar the tyme be schort
For as we se ane bow that is ay bent
Worthis unsmart and dullis on the string
Sa dois the mynd that is ay diligent
In ernistfull thochtis and in studying
With sad materis sum merines to ming
Accordis weill thus Esope said I wis
Dulcius arrident seria picta iocis 
Of this authour my maisteris with your leif
Submitting me to your correctioun
In mother toung of Latyng I wald preif
To mak ane maner of translatioun -
Nocht of my self for vane presumptioun
Bot be requeist and precept of ane lord
Of quhome the name it neidis not record
In hamelie language and in termes rude
Me neidis wryte for quhy of eloquence
Nor rethorike I never understude
Thairfoir meiklie I pray your reverence
Gif that ye find it throw my negligence
Be deminute or yit superfluous
Correct it at your willis gratious
My author in his fabillis tellis how
That brutal beistis spak and understude
And to gude purpois dispute and argow
Ane sillogisme propone and eik conclude
Put in exempill and similitude
How mony men in operatioun
Ar like to beistis in conditioun
Na mervell is ane man be lyke ane beist
Quhilk lufis ay carnall and foull delyte
That schame can not him renye nor arreist
Bot takis all the lust and appetyte
Quhilk throw custum and the daylie ryte
Syne in the mynd sa fast is radicate
That he in brutal beist is transformate
This nobill clerk Esope as I haif tauld
In gay metir facound and purpurat
Be figure wrait his buke for he nocht wald
Tak the disdane off hie nor low estate
And to begin first of ane cok he wrate
Seikand his meit quhilk fand ane jolie stone
Of quhome the fabill ye sall heir anone
Ane cok sum tyme with feddram fresch and gay
Richt cant and crous albeit he was bot pure
Fleu furth upon ane dunghill sone be day
To get his dennar set was al his cure
Scraipand amang the as be aventure
He fand ane jolie jasp richt precious
Wes castin furth in sweping of the hous
As damisellis wantoun and insolent
That fane wald play and on the streit be sene
To swoping of the hous thay tak na tent
Quhat be thairin swa that the flure be clene
Jowellis ar tint as oftymis hes bene sene
Upon the flure and swopit furth anone
Peradventure sa wes the samin stone
Sa mervelland upon the stane quod he
O gentill Jasp O riche and nobill thing
Thocht I the find thow ganis not for me
Thow art ane jouell for ane lord or king
Pietie it wer thow suld in this mydding
Be buryit thus amang this muke and mold
And thow so fair and worth sa mekill gold
It is pietie I suld the find for quhy
Thy grit vertew nor yit thy cullour cleir
It may me nouther extoll nor magnify
And thow to me may mak bot lyttill cheir
To grit lordis thocht thow be leif and deir
I lufe fer better thing of les availl
As draf or corne to fill my tume intraill
I had lever ga scrapit heir with my naillis
Amangis this mow and luke my lifys fude
As draf or corne small wormis or snaillis
Or ony meit wald do my stomok gude
Than of jaspis ane mekill multitude
And thow agane upon the samin wyis
May me as now for thyne availl dispyis
Thow hes na corne and thairof I had neid
Thy cullour dois bot confort to the sicht
And that is not aneuch my wame to feid
For wyfis sayis that lukand wark was licht
I wald sum meit have get it geve I micht
For houngrie men may not weill leve on lukis
Had I dry breid I compt not for na cukis
Quhar suld thow mak thy habitatioun
Quhar suld thow duell bot in ane royall tour
Quhar suld thow sit bot on ane kingis croun
Exaltit in worschip and in grit honour
Rise gentill Jasp of all stanis the flour
Out of this midding and pas quhar thow suld be
Thow ganis not for me nor I for the
Levand this jewell law upon the ground
To seik his meit this cok his wayis went
Bot quhen or how or quhome be it wes found
As now I set to hald na argument
Bot of the inward sentence and intent
Of this fabill as myne author dois write
I sall reheirs in rude and hamelie dite
This jolie jasp hes properteis sevin
The first of cullour it is mervelous
Part lyke the fyre and part lyke to the hevin
It makis ane man stark and victorious
Preservis als fra cacis perrillous
Quha hes this stane sall have gude hap to speid
Of fyre nor fallis him neidis not to dreid
This gentill jasp richt different of hew
Betakinnis perfite prudence and cunning
Ornate with mony deidis of vertew
Mair excellent than ony eirthly thing
Quhilk makis men in honour for to ring
Happie and stark to wyn the victorie
Of all vicis and spirituall enemie
Quha may be hardie riche and gratious
Quha can eschew perrell and aventure
Quha can governe ane realme cietie or hous
Without science No man I yow assure
It is riches that ever sall indure
Quhilk maith nor moist nor uther rust can freit
To mannis saull it is eternall meit
This cok desyrand mair the sempill corne
Than ony jasp may till ane fule be peir
Quhilk at science makis bot ane moik and scorne
And na gude can als lytill will he leir -
His hart wammillis wyse argumentis to heir
As dois ane sow to quhome men for the nanis
In hir draf troich wald saw the precious stanis
Quha is enemie to science and cunning
Bot ignorants that understandis nocht
Quhilk is sa nobill sa precious and sa ding
That it may not with eirdlie thing be bocht
Weill wer that man over all uther that mocht
All his lyfe dayis in perfite studie wair
To get science for him neidis na mair
Bot now allace this jasp is tynt and hid
We seik it nocht nor preis it for to find
Haif we richis na better lyfe we bid
Of science thocht the saull be bair and blind
Of this mater to speik I wair bot wind
Thairfore I ceis and will na forther say
Ga seik the jasp quha will for thair it lay
Esope myne authour makis mentioun
Of twa myis and thay wer sisteris deir
Of quham the eldest duelt in ane borous toun
The uther wynnit uponland weill neir
Richt soliter quhyle under busk and breir
Quhilis in the corne in uther mennis skaith
As owtlawis dois and levis on thair waith
This rurall mous in to the wynter tyde
Had hunger cauld and tholit grit distres
The uther mous that in the burgh can byde
Was gild brother and made ane fre burges
Toll-fre als but custum mair or les
And fredome had to ga quhair ever scho list
Amang the cheis and meill in ark and kist
Ane tyme quhein scho wes full and unfute-sair
Scho tuke in mynd hir sister upon land
And langit for to heir of hir weilfair
To se quhat lyfe scho led under the wand
Bairfute allone with pykestaf in hir hand
As pure pylgryme scho passit owt off town
To seik hir sister baith ovre daill and down
Throw mony wilsum wayis can scho walk
Throw mosse and mure throw bankis busk and breir
Fra fur to fur cryand fra balk to balk
Cum furth to me my awin sister deir
Cry peip anis With that the mous culd heir
And knew hir voce as kinnisman will do
Be verray kynd and furth scho come hir to
The hartlie cheir Lord God geve ye had sene
Beis kith quhen that thir sisteris met
And grit kyndnes wes schawin thame betuene
For quhylis thay leuch and quhylis for joy thay gret
Quhyle kissit sweit quhylis in armis plet
And thus thay fure quhill soberit wes their mude
Syne fute for fute unto the chalmer yude
As I hard say it was ane semple wane
Off fog and farne full misterlyk wes maid
Ane sillie scheill under ane erdfast stane
Off quhilk the entres wes not hie nor braid
And in the samin thay went but mair abaid
Withoutin fyre or candill birnand bricht
For comonly sic pykeris luffis not lycht
Quhen thay wer lugit thus thir sely myse
The youngest sister into hir butterie hyid
And brocht furth nuttis and peis in steid off spyce
Giff this wes gude fair I do it on thame besyde 
This burges mous prunyit forth in pryde
And said Sister is this your dayly fude
Quhy not quod scho is not this meit rycht gude
Na be my saull I think it bot ane scorne
Madame quod scho ye be the mair to blame
My mother sayd efter that we wer borne
That I and ye lay baith within ane wame
I keip the ryte and custome off my dame
And off my syre levand in povertie
For landis have we nane in propertie
My fair sister quod scho have me excusit
This rude dyat and I can not accord
To tender meit my stomok is ay usit
For quhy I fair als weill as ony lord
Thir wydderit peis and nuttis or thay be bord
Wil brek my teith and mak my wame ful sklender
Quhilk usit wes before to meitis tender
Weil weil sister quod the rurall mous
Geve it yow pleis sic thing as ye se heir
Baith meit and dreink harberie and hous
Sal be your awin will ye remane al yeir
Ye sall it have wyth blyith and mery cheir
And that suld mak the maissis that ar rude
Amang freindis richt tender sueit and gude
Quhat plesans is in feistis delicate
The quhilkis ar gevin with ane glowmand brow
Ane gentill hart is better recreate
With blyith visage than seith to him ane kow
Ane modicum is mair for till allow
Swa that gude will be kerver at the dais
Than thrawin vult and mony spycit mais
For all hir mery exhortatioun
This burges mous had littill will to sing
Bot hevilie scho kest hir browis doun
For all the daynteis that scho culd hir bring
Yit at the last scho said halff in hething
Sister this victuall and your royall feist
May weill suffice unto ane rurall beist
Lat be this hole and cum unto my place
I sall to yow schaw be experience
My Gude Friday is better nor your Pace
My dische likingis is worth your haill expence
I have housis anew off grit defence
Off cat na fall na trap I have na dreid
I grant quod scho and on togidder thay yeid
In stubble array throw gers and corne
Under cowert full prevelie couth thay creip
The eldest wes the gyde and went beforne
The younger to hir wayis tuke gude keip
On nicht thay ran and on the day can sleip
Quhill in the morning or the laverok sang
Thay fand the town and in blythlie couth gang
Not fer fra thyne unto ane worthie vane
This burges brocht thame sone quhare thay suld be
Withowt God speid thair herberie wes tane
In to ane spence with vittell grit plentie
Baith cheis and butter upon skelfis hie
And flesche and fische aneuch baith fresche and salt
And sekkis full off grotis meill and malt
Efter quhen thay disposit wer to dyne
Withowtin grace thay wesche and went to meit
With all coursis that cukis culd devyne
Muttoun and beif strikin in tailyeis greit
Ane lordis fair thus couth thay counterfeit
Except ane thing thay drank the watter cleir
In steid off wyne bot yit thay maid gude cheir
With blyith upcast and merie countenance
The eldest sister sperit at hir gest
Giff that scho be ressone fand difference
Betuix that chalmer and hir sarie nest
Ye dame quod scho bot how lang will this lest
For evermair I wait and langer to
Giff it be swa ye ar at eis quod scho
Till eik thair cheir ane subcharge furth scho brocht
Ane plait off grottis and ane disch full off meill
Thraf caikkis als I trow scho spairit nocht
Aboundantlie about hir for to deill
And mane full fyne scho brocht in steid off geill
And ane quhyte candill owt off ane coffer stall
In steid off spyce to gust thair mouth withall
This maid thay merie quhill thay micht na mair
And Haill Yule haill cryit upon hie
Yit efter joy oftymes cummis cair
And troubill efter grit prosperitie
Thus as thay sat in all thair jolitie
The spenser come with keyis in his hand
Oppinnit the dure and thame at denner fand
They taryit not to wesche as I suppose
Bot on to ga that micht formest win
The burges had ane hole and in scho gois
Hir sister had na hole to hyde hir in
To se that selie mous it wes grit sin
So desolate and will off ane gude reid
For verray dreid scho fell in swoun neir deid
Bot as God wald it fell ane happie cace
The spenser had na laser for to byde
Nowther to seik nor serche to char nor chace
Bot on he went and left the dure up wyde
The bald burges his passing weill hes spyde
Out off hir hole scho come and cryit on hie
How fair ye sister Cry peip quhair ever ye be
This rurall mous lay flatling on the ground
And for the deith scho wes full sair dredand
For till hir hart straik mony wofull stound
As in ane fever trimbillit fute and hand
And quhan hir sister in sic ply hir fand
For verray pietie scho began to greit
Syne confort hir with wordis hunny sweit
Quhy ly ye thus Ryse up my sister deir
Cum to your meit this perrell is overpast
The uther answerit hir with hevie cheir
I may not eit sa sair I am agast
I had lever thir fourty dayis fast
With watter caill and to gnaw benis or peis
Than all your feist in this dreid and diseis
With fair tretie yit scho gart hir upryse
And to the burde thay went and togidder sat
And scantlie had thay drunkin anis or twyse
Quhen in come Gib Hunter our jolie cat
And bad God speid The burges up with that
And till hir hole scho fled as fyre of flint
Bawdronis the uther be the bak hes hint
Fra fute to fute he kest hir to and fra
Quhylis up quhylis doun als tait as ony kid
Quhylis wald he lat hir rin under the stra
Quhylis wald he wink and play with hir buk heid
Thus to the selie mous grit pane he did
Quhill at the last throw fortune and gude hap
Betwix the dosor and the wall scho crap
And up in haist behind the parraling
Scho clam so hie that Gilbert micht not get hir
And be the clukis craftelie can hing
Till he wes gane hir cheir wes all the better
Syne doun scho lap quhen thair wes nane to let hir
Apon the burges mous loud can scho cry
Fairweill sister thy feist heir I defy
Thy mangerie is mingit all with cair
Thy guse is gude thy gansell sour as gall
The subcharge off thy service is bot sair
Sa sall thow find heir-efterwart may fall
I thank yone courtyne and yone perpall wall
Off my defence now fra yone crewell beist
Almichtie God keip me fra sic ane feist
Wer I into the kith that I come fra
For weill nor wo suld I never cum agane
With that scho tuke hir leif and furth can ga
Quhylis throw the corne and quhylis throw the plane
Quhen scho wes furth and fre scho wes full fane
And merilie markit unto the mure
I can not tell how eftirwart scho fure
Bot I hard say scho passit to hir den
Als warme as woll suppose it wes not greit
Full beinly stuffit baith but and ben
Off beinis and nuttis peis ry and quheit
Quhen ever scho list scho had aneuch to eit
In quyet and eis withoutin ony dreid
Bot to hir sisteris feist na mair scho yeid
Freindis heir may ye find will ye tak heid
In this fabill ane gude moralitie
As fitchis myngit ar with nobill seid
Swa interminglit is adversitie
With eirdlie joy swa that na state is frie
Without trubill and sum vexatioun
And namelie thay quhilk clymmis up maist hie
That ar not content with small possessioun
Blissed be sempill lyfe withoutin dreid
Blissed be sober feist in quietie
Quha hes aneuch of na mair hes he neid
Thocht it be littill into quantatie
Grit aboundance and blind prosperitie
Oftymes makis ane evill conclusioun
The sweitest lyfe thairfoir in this cuntrie
Is sickernes with small possessioun
O wantoun man that usis for to feid
Thy wambe and makis it a god to be
Luke to thy self I warne the weill on deid
The cat cummis and to the mous hes ee
Quhat vaillis than thy feist and royaltie
With dreidfull hart and tribulatioun
Thairfoir best thing in eird I say for me
Is merry hart with small possessioun
Thy awin fyre my freind sa it be bot ane gleid
It warmis weill and is worth gold to the
And Solomon sayis gif that thow will reid
Under the hevin thair can not better be
Than ay be blyith and leif in honestie
Quhairfoir I may conclude be this ressoun
Of eirthly joy it beiris maist degre
Blyithnes in hart with small possessioun
Thocht brutall beistis be irrationall
That is to say wantand discretioun
Yyt ilk ane in thair kyndis naturall
Hes mony divers inclinatioun
The bair busteous the volff the wylde lyoun
The fox fenyeit craftie and cawtelows
The dog to bark on nicht and keip the hows
Sa different thay ar in properteis
Unknawin unto man and sa infinite
In kynd havand sa fell diversiteis
My cunning it excedis for to dyte
For thy as now I purpose for to wryte
Ane cais I fand quhilk fell this ather yeir
Betwix ane foxe and gentill Chantecleir
Ane wedow dwelt in till ane drop thay dayis
Quhilk wan hir fude of spinning on hir rok
And na mair had forsuth as the fabill sayis
Except off hennis scho had ane lyttill flok
And thame to keip scho had ane jolie cok
Richt curageous that to this wedow ay
Devydit nicht and crew befoir the day
Ane lyttill fra this foirsaid wedowis hows
Ane thornie schaw thair wes off grit defence
Quhairin ane foxe craftie and cautelous
Maid his repair and daylie residence
Quhilk to this wedow did grit violence
In pyking off pultrie baith day and nicht
And na way be revengit on him scho micht
This wylie tod quhen that the lark couth sing
Full sair hungrie unto the toun him drest
Quhair Chantecleir in to the gray dawing
Werie for nicht wes flowen fra his nest
Lowrence this saw and in his mynd he kest
The jeperdies the wayis and the wyle
Be quhat menis he micht this cok begyle
Dissimuland in to countenance and cheir
On kneis fell and simuland thus he said
Gude morne my maister gentill Chantecleir
With that the cok start bakwart in ane braid
Schir be my saull ye neid not be effraid
Nor yit for me to start nor fle abak
I come bot heir service to yow to mak
Wald I not serve to yow it wer bot blame
As I have done to yowr progenitouris
Your father oft fulfillit hes my wame
And send me meit fra midding to the muris
And at his end I did my besie curis
To hald his heid and gif him drinkis warme
Syne at the last the sweit swelt in my arme
Knew ye my father quod the cok and leuch
Yea my fair sone I held his heid
Quhen that he deit under ane birkin beuch
Syne said the Dirigie quhen that he wes deid
Betuix us twa how suld thair be ane feid
Quhame suld ye traist bot me your servitour
That to your father did sa grit honour
Quhen I behald your fedderis fair and gent
Your beik your breist your hekill and your kame -
Schir be my saull and the blissit sacrament
My hart is warme me think I am at hame
Yow for to serve I wald creip on my wame
In froist and snaw in wedder wan and weit
And lay my lyart loikkis under your feit
This fenyeit foxe fals and dissimulate
Maid to this cok ane cavillatioun
Ye ar me think changit and degenerate
Fra your father and his conditioun
Off craftie crawing he micht beir the croun
For he wald on his tais stand and craw
This wes na le I stude beside and saw
With that the cok upon his tais hie
Kest up his beik and sang with all his micht
Quod schir Lowrence Weill said sa mot I the
Ye ar your fatheris sone and air upricht
Bot off his cunning yit ye want ane slicht
For quod the tod he wald and haif na dout
Baith wink and craw and turne him thryis about
The cok inflate with wind and fals vane gloir
That mony puttis unto confusioun
Traisting to win ane grit worschip thairfoir
Unwarlie winkand walkit up and doun
And syne to chant and craw he maid him boun -
And suddandlie be he had crawin ane note
The foxe wes war and hint him be the throte
Syne to the woid but tarie with him hyit
Off countermaund haifand bot lytill dout
With that Pertok Sprutok and Coppok cryit
The wedow hard and with ane cry come out
Seand the cace scho sichit and gaif ane schout
How murther reylok with ane hiddeous beir
Allace now lost is gentill Chantecleir
As scho wer woid with mony yell and cry
Ryvand hir hair upon hir breist can beit
Syne paill off hew half in ane extasy
Fell doun for cair in swoning and in sweit
With that the selie hennis left thair meit
And quhill this wyfe wes lyand thus in swoun
Fell of that cace in disputatioun
Allace quod Pertok makand sair murning
With teiris grit attour hir cheikis fell
Yone wes our drowrie and our dayis darling
Our nichtingall and als our orlege bell
Our walkryfe watche us for to warne and tell
Quhen that Aurora with hir curcheis gray
Put up hir heid betuix the nicht and day
Quha sall our lemman be Quha sall us leid
Quhen we ar sad quha sall unto us sing
With his sweit bill he wald brek us the breid
In all this warld wes thair ane kynder thing
In paramouris he wald do us plesing
At his power as nature did him geif
Now efter him allace how sall we leif
Quod Sprutok than Ceis sister off your sorrow
Ye be to mad for him sic murning mais
We sall fair weill I find Sanct Johne to borrow
The proverb sayis 'Als gude lufe cummis as gais
I will put on my haly dais clais
And mak me fresch agane this jolie May
Syne chant this sang 'Wes never wedow sa gay
He wes angry and held us ay in aw
And woundit with the speir off jelowsy
Off chalmerglew Pertok full weill ye knaw
Waistit he wes off nature cauld and dry
Sen he is gone thairfoir sister say I
Be blyith in baill for that is best remeid
Let quik to quik and deid ga to the deid
Than Pertok spak that feinyeit faith befoir
In lust but lufe that set all hir delyte
Sister ye wait off sic as him ane scoir
Wald not suffice to slaik our appetyte
I hecht yow be my hand sen ye ar quyte
Within ane oulk for schame and I durst speik
To get ane berne suld better claw oure breik
Than Coppok lyke ane curate spak full crous
Yone wes ane verray vengeance from the hevin
He wes sa lous and sa lecherous
He had quod scho kittokis ma than sevin
Bot rychteous God haldand the balandis evin
Smytis rycht sair thocht he be patient
Adulteraris that list thame not repent
Prydefull he wes and joyit off his sin
And comptit not for Goddis favour nor feid
Bot traistit ay to rax and sa to rin
Quhill at the last his sinnis can him leid
To schamefull end and to yone suddand deid
Thairfoir it is the verray hand off God
That causit him be werryit with the tod
Quhen this wes said this wedow fra hir swoun
Start up on fute and on hir kennettis cryde
How Birkye Berrie Bell Bawsie Broun
Rype Schaw Rin Weil Curtes Nuttieclyde
Togidder all but grunching furth ye glyde
Reskew my nobill cok or he be slane
Or ellis to me se ye cum never agane
With that but baid thay braidet over the bent
As fyre off flint thay over the feildis flaw
Full wichtlie thay throw wood and wateris went
And ceissit not schir Lourence quhill thay saw
Bot quhen he saw the raches cum on raw
Unto the cok in mynd he said God sen
That I and thow wer fairlie in my den
Then spak the cok with sum gude spirit inspyrit
Do my counsall and I sall warrand the
Hungrie thow art and for grit travell tyrit
Richt faint off force and may not ferther fle
Swyith turne agane and say that I and ye
Freindis ar maid and fellowis for ane yeir
Than will thay stint I stand for it and not steir
This tod thocht he wes fals and frivolus
And had frawdis his querrell to defend
Desavit wes be menis richt mervelous
For falset failyeis ay at the latter end
He start about and cryit as he wes kend
With that the cok he braid unto a bewch
Now juge ye all quhairat schir Lowrence lewch
Begylit thus the tod under the tre
On kneis fell and said Gude Chantecleir
Cum doun agane and I but meit or fe
Sal be your man and servand for ane yeir
Na murther theif and revar stand on reir
My bludy hekill and my nek sa bla
Hes partit lowe for ever between us twa
I wes unwyse that winkit at thy will
Quhairthrow almaist I loissit had my heid
I wes mair fule quod he coud nocht be still
Bot spake to put my pray in to pleid
Fair on fals theif God keip me fra thy feid
With that the cok over the feildis tuke his flicht
And in at the wedowis lewer couth he licht
Now worthie folk suppose this be ane fabill
And overheillit wyth typis figurall
Yit may ye find ane sentence richt agreabill
Under thir fenyeit termis textuall
To our purpose this cok weill may we call
Nyse proud men woid and vaneglorious
Of kin and blude quhilk is presumpteous
Fy puft up pryde thow is full poysonabill
Quha favoris the on force man haif ane fall
Thy strenth is nocht thy stule standis unstabill
Tak witnes of the feyndis infernall
Quhilk houndit doun wes fra that hevinlie hall
To hellis hole and to that hiddeous hous
Because in pryde thay wer presumpteous
This fenyeit foxe may weill be figurate
To flatteraris with plesand wordis quhyte
With fals mening and mynd maist toxicate
To loif and le that settis thair haill delyte
All worthie folk at sic suld haif despyte
For quhair is thair mair perrellous pestilence
Nor gif to learis haistelie credence
The wickit mynd and adullatioun
Of sucker sweit haifand the similitude
Bitter as gall and full of fell poysoun
To taist it is quha cleirlie understude
For thy as now schortlie to conclude
Thir twa sinnis flatterie and vaneglore
Ar vennomous gude folk fle thame thairfoir
Leif we this wedow glaid I yow assure
Off Chantecleir mair blyith than I can tell
And speik we off the fatal aventure
And destenie that to this foxe befell
Quhilk durst na mair with miching intermell
Als lang as leme or licht wes off the day
Bot bydand nicht full styll lurkand he lay
Quhill that Thetes the goddes off the flude
Phebus had callit to the harbery
And Hesperous put up his cluddie hude
Schawand his lustie visage in the sky
Than Lourence luikit up quhair he couth ly
And kest his hand upon his ee on hicht
Merie and glade that cummit wes the nicht
Out off the wod unto ane hill he went
Quhair he micht se the tuinkling sternis cleir
And all the planetis off the firmament
Thair cours and eik thair moving in thair spheir
Sum retrograde and sum stationeir
And off the zodiak in quhat degre
Thay wer ilk ane as Lowrence leirnit me
Than Saturne auld wes enterit in Capricorne
And Juppiter movit in Sagittarie
And Mars up in the Rammis heid wes borne
And Phebus in the Lyoun furth can carie
Venus the Crab the Mone wes in Aquarie
Mercurius the god off eloquence
Into the Virgyn maid his residence
But astrolab quadrant or almanak
Teichit off nature be instructioun
The moving off the hevin this tod can tak
Quhat influence and constellatioun
Wes lyke to fall upon the eirth adoun
And to him self he said withoutin mair
Weill worth my father that send me to the lair
My destenie and eik my weird I watt
My aventure is cleirlie to me kend
With mischeif myngit is my mortall fait
My misleving the soner bot gif I mend
Deid is reward off sin ane schamefull end
Thairfoir I will ga seik sum confessour
And schryiff me clene off my sinnis to this hour
Allace quod he richt waryit ar we thevis
Our lyif is set ilk nicht in aventure
Our cursit craft full mony man mischevis
For ever we steill and ever alyk ar pure
In dreid and schame our dayis we indure
Syne 'Widdinek' and 'Crakraip' callit als
And till our hyre ar hangit be the hals
Accusand thus his cankerit conscience
In to ane craig he kest about his ee
So saw he cummand ane lyttill than frome thence
Ane worthie doctour in divinitie
Freir Wolff Waitskaith in science wonder sle
To preiche and pray was new cum fra the closter
With beidis in hand sayand his Pater Noster
Seand this wolff this wylie tratour tod
On kneis fell with hude in to his nek
Welcome my gostlie father under God
Quod he with mony binge and mony bek
Ha quod the wolff schir Tod for quhat effek
Mak ye sic feir Ryse up put on your hude
Father quod he I haif grit cause to dude
Ye ar the lanterne and the sicker way
Suld gyde sic sempill folk as me to grace
Your bair feit and your russet coull off gray
Your lene cheik your paill and pietious face
Schawis to me your perfite halines
For weill wer him that anis in his lyve
Had hap to yow his sinnis for to schryve
A selie Lowrence quod the wolf and leuch
It plesis me that ye ar penitent
Off reif and stouth schir I can tell aneuch
That causis me full sair for to repent
Bot father byde still heir upon the bent
I yow beseik and heir me to declair
My conscience that prikkis me sa sair
Weill quod the wolff sit doun upon thy kne
And he doun bairheid sat full humilly
And syne began with Benedicitie
Quhen I this saw I drew ane lytill by
For it effeiris nouther to heir nor spy
Nor to reveill thing said under that seill
Bot to the tod this gait the wolf couth mele
Art thow contrite and sorie in thy spreit
For thy trespas Na schir I can not duid
Me think that hennis ar sa honie sweit
And lambes flesche that new ar lettin bluid
For to repent my mynd can not concluid
Bot off this thing that I haif slane sa few
Weill quod the wolf in faith thow art ane schrew
Sen thow can not forthink thy wickitnes
Will thow forbeir in tyme to cum and mend
And I forbeir how sall I leif allace
Haifand nane uther craft me to defend
Neid causis me to steill quhair ever I wend
I eschame to thig I can not wirk ye wait
Yit wald I fane pretend to gentill stait
Weill quod the wolf thow wantis pointis twa
Belangand to perfyte confessioun
To the thrid part off pennance let us ga
Uill thow tak pane for thy transgressioun
Na schir considder my complexioun
Seikly and waik and off my nature tender
Lo will ye se I am baith lene and sklender
Yit nevertheles I wald swa it wer licht
Schort and not grevand to my tendernes
Tak part off pane fulfill it gif I micht
To set my selie saull in way off grace
Thow sall quod he forbeir flesch untill Pasche
To tame this corps that cursit carioun
And heir I reik the full remissioun
I grant thairto swa ye will giff me leif
To eit puddingis or laip ane lyttill blude
Or heid or feit or paynches let me preif
In cace I falt of flesch in to my fude
For grit mister I gif the leif to dude
Twyse in the oulk for neid may haif na law
God yeild yow schir for that text weill I knaw
Quhen this wes said the wolf his wayis went
The foxe on fute he fure unto the flude
To fang him fisch haillelie wes his intent
Bot quhen he saw the walterand wallis woude
Astonist all still in to ane stair he stude
And said Better that I had biddin at hame
Nor bene ane fischar in the Devillis name
Now man I scraip my meit out off the sand
For I haif nouther boittis net nor bait
As he wes thus for falt off meit murnand
Lukand about his leving for to lait
Under ane tre he saw ane trip off gait
Than wes he blyith and in ane heuch him hid
And fra the gait he stall ane lytill kid
Syne over the heuch unto the see he hyis
And tuke the kid be the hornis twane
And in the watter outher twyis or thryis
He dowkit him till him can he sayne
Ga doun schir Kid cum up schir Salmond agane
Quhill he wes deid syne to the land him drewch
And off that new-maid salmond eit anewch
Thus fynelie fillit with young tender meit
Unto ane derne for dreid he him addrest
Under ane busk quhair that the sone can beit
To beik his breist and bellie he thocht best
And rekleslie he said quhair he did rest
Straikand his wame aganis the sonis heit
Upon this wame set wer ane bolt full meit
Quhen this wes said the keipar off the gait
Cairfull in hart his kid wes stollen away
On everilk syde full warlie couth he wait
Quhill at the last he saw quhair Lowrence lay
Ane bow he bent ane flane with fedderis gray
He haillit to the heid and or he steird
The foxe he prikkit fast unto the eird
Now quod the foxe allace and wellaway
Gorrit I am and may na forther gang
Me think na man may speik ane word in play
Bot now on dayis in ernist it is tane
The hird him hynt and out he drew his flane
And for his kid and uther violence
He tuke his skyn and maid ane recompence
This suddand deith and unpruvysit end
Of this fals tod without contritioun
Exempill is exhortand folk to mend
For dreid of sic ane lyke conclusioun
For mony gois now to confessioun
Can not repent nor for thair sinnis greit
Because thay think thair lustie lyfe sa sweit
Sum bene also throw consuetude and ryte
Vincust with carnall sensualitie
Suppose thay be as for the tym contryte
Can not forbeir nor fra thair sinnis fle
Use drawis nature swa in propertie
Of beist and man that neidlingis thay man do
As thay of lang tyme hes bene hantit to
Be war gude folke and feir this suddane schoit
Quhilk smytis sair withoutin resistence
Attend wyislie and in your hartis noit
Aganis deith may na man mak defence
Ceis of your sin remord your conscience
Do wilfull pennance here and ye sall wend
Efter your deith to blis withouttin end
This foirsaid foxe that deit for his misdeid
Had not ane barne wes gottin richteouslie
That to his airschip micht of law succeid
Except ane sone the quhilk in adulterie
He gotten had in purches privelie
And till his name wes callit Father-war
That luifit weill with pultrie to tig and tar
It followis weill be ressoun naturall
And gre be gre off richt comparisoun
Off evill cummis war off war cummis werst of all
Off wrangus get cummis wrang successioun
This foxe bastard of generatioun
Off verray kynde behuifit to be fals
Swa wes his father and his grandschir als
As nature will seikand his meit be sent
Off cace he fand his fatheris carioun
Nakit new slane and till him hes he went
Tuke up his heid and on his kne fell doun
Thankand grit God off that conclusioun
And saidNow sall I bruke sen I am air
The boundis quhair thow wes wont for to repair
Fy covetice unkynd and venemous
The sone wes fane he fand his father deid
Be suddand schot for deidis odious
That he micht ringe and raxe in till his steid
Dreidand na thing the samin lyfe to leid
In thift and reif as did his father befoir
Bot to the end attent he tuke no moir
Yit nevertheles throw naturall pietie
The carioun upon his bak he tais
Now find I weill this proverb trew quod he
Ay rinnis the foxe als lang as he fute hais
Syne with the corps unto ane peitpoit gais
Off watter full and kest him in the deip
And to the Devill he gaif his banis to keip
O fulische man Plungit in wardlynes
To conqueis wrangwis guidis gold and rent
To put thy saull in pane or hevines
To riche thy air quhilk efter thow art went
Have he thy gude he takis bot small tent
To sing or say for thy salvatioun
Fra thow be dede done is thy devotioun
This tod to rest him he passit to ane craig
And thair he hard ane buisteous bugill blaw
Quhilk as him thocht maid all the warld to waig
Than start he up quhen he this hard and saw
Ane unicorne come lansand over ane law
With horne in hand ane buste in breist he bure
Ane pursephant semelie I yow assure
Unto ane bank quhair he micht se about
On everilk syde in haist he culd him hy
Schot out his voce full schyll and gaif ane schout
And Oyas Oyas twyse or thryse did cry
With that the beistis in the feild thairby
All mervelland quhat sic ane thing suld mene
Gritlie agast thay gaderit on ane grene
Out off his buste ane bill sone can he braid
And red the text withoutin tarying
Commandand silence sadlie thus he said
We nobill Lyoun off all beistis the king
Greting to God ay lestand but ending
To brutall beistis and irrationall
I send as to my subjectis grit and small
My celsitude and hie magnificence
Lattis yow to wit that evin incontinent
Thinkis the morne with royall deligence
Upon this hill to hald ane parliament
Straitlie thairfoir I gif commandement
For to compeir befoir my tribunall
Under all pane and perrell that may fall
The morrow come and Phebus with his bemis
Consumit had the mistie cluddis gray
The ground wes grene and als as gold it glemis
With gresis growand gudelie grit and gay
The spyce thay spred to spring on everilk spray
The lark the maveis and the merll full hie
Sweitlie can sing trippand fra tre to tre
Thre leopardis come a croun off massie gold
Beirand thay brocht unto that hillis hicht
With jaspis jonit and royall rubeis rold
And mony diveris dyamontis dicht
With pollis proud ane palyeoun doun thay picht
And in that throne thair sat ane wild lyoun
In rob royall with sceptour swerd and croun
Efter the tennour off the cry befoir
That gais on fut all beistis in the eird
As thay commandit wer withoutin moir
Befoir thair lord the lyoun thay appeird
And quhat thay wer to me as Lowrence leird
I sall reheirs ane part off everilk kynd
Als fer as now occurris to my mynd
The minotaur ane monster mervelous
Bellerophont that beist of bastardrie
The warwolff and the Pegase perillous
Transformit be assent of sorcerie
The linx the tiger full off tiranie
The elephant and eik the dromedarie
The cameill with his cran-nek furth can carie
The leopard as I haif tauld beforne
The anteloip the sparth furth couth speid
The peyntit pantheir and the unicorne
The rayndeir ran throw reveir rone and reid
The jolie jonet and the gentill steid
The asse the mule the hors of everilk kynd
The da the ra the hornit hart the hynd
The bull the beir the bugill and the bair
The wodwys wildcat and the wild wolfyne
The hardbakkit hurcheoun and the hirpland hair
Baith otter and aip and pennit porcupyne
The gukit gait the selie scheip the swyne
The baver bakon and the balterand brok
The fowmart with the fibert furth can flok
The gay grewhound with slewthound furth can slyde
With doggis all divers and different
The rattoun ran the glebard furth can glyde
The quhrynand quhitret with the quhasill went
The feitho that hes furrit mony fent
The mertrik with the cunning and the con
The bowranbane and eik the lerion
The marmisset the mowdewart couth leid
Because that nature denyit had hir sicht
Thus dressit thay all furth for dreid off deid
The musk the lytill mous with all hir micht
In haist haikit unto that hill of hicht
And mony kynd off beistis I couth not knaw
Befoir thair lord the lyoun thay loutit law
Seing thir beistis all at his bidding boun
He gaif ane braid and blenkit him about
Than flatlingis to his feit thay fell all doun
For dreid off deith thay droupit all in dout
The lyoun lukit quhen he saw thame lout
And bad thame with ane countenance full sweit
Be not efferit bot stand up on your feit
I lat yow wit my micht is merciabill
And steiris nane that ar to me prostrait
Angrie austerne and als unamyabill
To all that standfray ar to myne estait
I rug I reif all beistys that makis debait
Aganis the micht off my magnyficence
Se nane pretend to pryde in my presence
My celsitude and my hie majestie
With micht and mercie myngit sall be ay
The lawest heir I can full sone up hie
And mak him maister over yow all I may
The dromedarie giff he will mak deray
The grit camell thocht he wer never sa crous
I can him law als lytill as ane mous
Se neir be twentie mylis quhair I am
The kid ga saiflie be the gaittis syde
The tod Lowrie luke not to the lam
Na revand beistis nouther ryn nor ryde
Thay couchit all efter that this wes cryde
The justice bad the court for to gar fence
The sutis call and foirfalt all absence 
The panther with his payntit coit-armour
Fensit the court as off the law effeird
Than Tod Lowrie luikit quhair he couth lour
And start on fute all stonist and all steird
Ryifand his hair he cryit with ane reird
Quaikand for dreid and sichand couth he say
Allace this hour allace this dulefull day
I wait this suddand semblie that I se
Haifand the pointis off ane parliament
Is maid to mar sic misdoars as me
Thairfoir geve I me schaw I will be schent
I will be socht and I be red absent
To byde or fle it makis no remeid
All is alyke thair followis not bot deid
Perplexit thus in his hart can he mene
Throw falset how he micht him self defend
His hude he drew far doun attoure his ene
And winkand with the ane eye furth he wend
Clinscheand he come that he micht not be kend
And for dreddour that he suld bene arreist
He playit bukhude behind fra beist to beist
O fylit spreit and cankerit conscience
Befoir ane roy renyeit with richteousnes
Blakinnit cheikis and schamefull countenance
Fairweill thy fame now gone is all thy grace
The phisnomie the favour off thy face
For thy defence is foull and disfigurate
Brocht to the licht basit blunt and blait
Be thow atteichit with thift or with tressoun
For thy misdeid wrangous and wickit fay
Thy cheir changis Lowrence thow man luke doun
Thy worschip of this warld is went away
Luke to this tod how he wes in effray
And fle the filth of falset I the reid
Quhairthrow thair fallowis syn and schamefull deid
Compeirand thus befoir thair lord and king
In ordour set as to thair stait effeird
Of everilk kynd he gart ane part furth bring
And awfullie he spak and at thame speird
Geve there wes ony beist is in eird
Absent and thairto gart thame deiplie sweir
And thay said nane except ane gray stude meir
Ga make ane message sone unto that stude
The court than cryit My lord quha sall it be
Cum furth Lowrie lurkand under thy hude
Na schir mercie Lo I have bot ane ee
Hurt in the hoche and cruikit as ye may se
The wolff is better in ambassatry
And mair cunning in clergie fer than I
Rampand he said Ga furth ye brybouris baith
And thay to ga withowtin tarying
Over ron and rute thay ran togidder raith
And fand the meir at hir meit in the morning
Now quod the tod madame cum to the king
The court is callit and ye ar contumax
Let be Lowrence quod scho your cowrtlie knax
Maistres quod he cum to the court ye mon
The lyoun hes commandit so in deid
Schir Tod tak ye the flyrdome and the fon
I have respite ane yeir and ye will reid
I can not spell quod he sa God me speid
Heir is the wolff ane nobill clerk at all
And of this message is maid principall
He is autentik and ane man of age
And hes grit practik of the chanceliary
Let him ga luke and reid your privilage
And I sall stand and beir witnes yow by
Quhair is thy respite quod the wolff in hy
Schir it is heir under my hufe weill hid
Hald up thy heill quod he and so scho did
Thocht he wes blindit with pryde yit he presumis
To luke doun law quhair that hir letter lay
With that the meir gird him upon the gumis
And straik the hattrell off his heid away
Halff out off lyif thair lenand doun he lay
Allace quod Lowrence Lupus thow art loist
His cunning quod the meir wes worth sum coist
Lowrence quod schowill thow luke on my letter
Sen that the wolff na thing thairoff can wyn
Na be Sanct Bryde quod he Me think it better
To sleip in haill nor in ane hurt skyn
Ane skrow I fand and this wes writtin in -
For fyve schillingis I wald not anis forfaut him -
Felix quem faciunt aliena pericula cautum 
With brokin skap and bludie cheikis reid
This wolff weipand on his wayis went
Off his menye markand to get remeid
To tell the king the cace wes his intent
Schir quod the tod byde still upon this bent
And fra your browis wesche away the blude
And tak ane drink for it will do yow gude
To fetche watter this fraudfull foxe furth fure
Sydelingis abak he socht unto ane syke
On cace he meittis cummand fra the mure
Ane trip off lambis dansand on ane dyke
This tratour tod this tirrant and this tyke
The fattest off this flock he fellit hais
And eit his fill syne to the wolff he gais
Thay drank togidder and syne thair journey takis
Befoir the king syne kneillit on thair kne
Quhair is yone meir schir Tod wes contumax
Than Lowrence said My lord speir not at me
This new-maid doctour off divinitie
With his reid cap can tell yow weill aneuch
With that the lyoun and all the laif thay leuch
Tell on the cais now Lowrence let us heir
This wittie wolff quod he this clerk off age
On your behalff he bad the meir compeir
And scho allegit to ane privilage -
Cum neir and se and ye sall haiff your wage
Because he red hir rispite plane and weill
Yone reid bonat scho raucht him with hir heill
The lyoun said Be yone reid cap I ken
This taill is trew quha tent unto it takis
The greitest clerkis ar not the wysest men
The hurt off ane happie the uther makis
As thay wer carpand in this cais with knakis
And all the court in garray and in gam
Swa come the yow the mother off the lam
Befoir the justice on hir kneis fell
Put out hir playnt on this wyis wofully
This harlet huresone and this hound off hell
He devorit hes my lamb full doggitly
Within ane myle in contrair to your cry
For Goddis lufe my lord gif me the law
Off this lurker With that Lowrence let draw
Byde quod the lyoun Lymmer let us se
Giff it be suthe the selie yow hes said
Aa soverane lord saif your mercie quod he
My purpois wes with him for to haif plaid
Causles he fled as he had bene effraid
For dreid off deith he duschit over ane dyke
And brak his nek Thow leis quod scho fals tyke
His deith be practik may be previt eith
Thy gorrie gumis and thy bludie snout -
The woll the flesche yit stikkis on thy teith -
And that is evidence aneuch but dout
The justice bad ga cheis ane sis about
And so thay did and fand that he wes fals
Off murther thift and party tressoun als
Thay band him fast the justice bad belyif
To gif the dome and tak off all his clais
The wolff that new-maid doctour couth him schrif
Syne furth him led and to the gallous gais
And at the ledder fute his leif he tais
The aip wes bowcher and bad him sone ascend
And hangit him and thus he maid his end
Richt as the mynour in his minorall
Fair gold with fyre may fra the leid weill wyn
Richt so under ane fabill figurall
Sad sentence men may seik and efter fyne
As daylie dois the doctouris of devyne
That to our leving full weill can apply
And paynt thair mater furth be poetry
The lyoun is the warld be liklynace
To quhome loutis baith empriour and king
And thinkis of this warld to get incres
And gapis daylie to get mair leving
Sum for to reull and sum to raxe and ring
Sum gadderis geir sum gold sum uther gude
To wyn this warld sum wirkis as thay wer wod
The meir is men of contemplatioun
Off pennance walkand in this wildernes
As monkis and othir men of religioun
That presis God to pleis in everilk place
Abstractit from this warldis wretchitnes
In wilfull povertee fra pomp and pryde
And fra this warld in mynd ar mortyfyde
This wolf I likkin to sensualitie
As quhen lyke brutall beistis we accord
Our mynd all to this warldis vanitie
Lyking to tak and loif him as our lord
Fle fast thairfra gif thow will richt remord
Than sall ressoun ryse rax and ring
And for thy saull thair is na better thing
Hir hufe I likkin to the thocht of deid
Will thow remember man that thow man de
Thow may brek sensualiteis heid
And fleschlie lust away fra the sall fle
Fra thow begin thy mynd to mortifie
Salomonis saying thow may persaif heirin
Think on thy end thow sall not glaidlie sin
This tod I likkin to temptationis
Beirand to mynd mony thochtis vane
That daylie sagis men of religiounis
Cryand to thame Cum to the warld agane
Yit gif thay se sensualitie neir slane
And suddand deith with ithand panis sore
Thay go abak and temptis thame no more
O Mary myld mediatour of mercy meik
Sitt doun before thy sone celestiall
For us synnaris his celsitude beseik
Us to defend fra pane and perrellis all
And help us up unto thy hevinlie hall
In gloir quhair we may se the face of God
And thus endis the talking of the tod
Esope ane taill puttis in memorie
How that ane doig because that he wes pure
Callit ane scheip unto the consistorie
Ane certane breid fra him for to recure
Ane fraudfull wolff wes juge that tyme and bure
Authoritie and jurisdictioun
And on the scheip send furth ane strait summoun
For by the use and cours and commoun style
On this maner maid his citatioun
I Maister Wolff partles off fraud and gyle
Under the panis off hie suspensioun
Off grit cursing and interdictioun
Schir Scheip I charge the straitly to compeir
And answer to ane doig befoir me heir
Schir Corbie Ravin wes maid apparitour
Quha pykit had full mony scheipis ee
The charge hes tane and on the letteris bure
Summonit the scheip befoir the wolff that he
Peremptourlie within twa dayis thre
Compeir under the panis in this bill
To heir quhat Perrie Doig will say the till
This summondis maid befoir witnes anew
The ravin as to his office weill effeird
Indorsat hes the write and on he flew
The selie scheip durst lay na mouth on eird 
Till he befoir the awfull juge appeird
The oure off cause quhilk that the juge usit than
Quhen Hesperus to schaw his face began
The foxe wes clerk and noter in the cause
The gled the graip at the bar couth stand
As advocatis expert in to the lawis
The doggis pley togidder tuke on hand
Quhilk wer confidderit straitlie in ane band
Aganis the scheip to procure the sentence
Thocht it wes fals thay had na conscience
The clerk callit the scheip and he wes thair
The advocatis on this wyse couth propone
Ane certane breid worth fyve schilling or mair
Thow aw the doig off quhilk the terme is gone
Off his awin heid but advocate allone
The scheip avysitlie gaif answer in the cace
Heir I declyne the juge the tyme the place
This is my cause in motive and effect
The law sayis it is richt perrillous
Till enter in pley befoir ane juge suspect
And ye Schir Wolff hes bene richt odious
To me for with your tuskis ravenous
Hes slane full mony kinnismen off myne
Thairfoir as juge suspect I yow declyne
And schortlie of this court ye memberis all
Baith assessouris clerk and advocate
To me and myne ar ennemies mortall
And ay hes bene as mony scheipheird wate
The place is fer the tyme is feriate
Quhairfoir na juge suld sit in consistory
Sa lait at evin I yow accuse for thy
Quhen that the juge in this wyse wes accusit
He bad the parteis cheis with ane assent
Twa arbeteris as in the law is usit
For to declair and gif arbitriment
Quhidder the scheip suld answer in jugement
Befoir the wolff and so thay did but weir
Off quhome the namis efter ye sall heir
The beir the brok the mater tuke on hand
For to discyde gif this exceptioun
Wes off na strenth or lauchfully mycht stand
And thairupon as jugis thay sat doun
And held ane lang quhyle disputatioun
Seikand full mony decretalis off the law
And glosis als the veritie to knaw
Of civile law mony volum thay revolve
The codies and digestis new and ald
Contra et pro strait argumentis thay resolve
Sum a doctryne and sum a nothir hald
For prayer or price trow ye thay wald fald
Bot held the glose and text of the decreis
As trew jugis I beschrew thame ay that leis
Schortlie to mak ane end off this debait
The arbiteris than summar and plane
The sentence gave and proces fulminait
The scheip suld pas befoir the wolff agane
And end his pley Than wes he nathing fane
For fra thair sentence couth he not appeill
On clerkis I do it gif this sentence wes leill
The scheip agane befoir the wolff derenyeit
But advocate abasitlie couth stand
Up rais the doig and on the scheip thus plenyeit
Ane soume I payit have befoir the hand
For certane breid Thairto ane borrow he fand
That wrangouslie the scheip did hald the breid
Quhilk he denyit and thair began the pleid
And quhen the scheip this stryif had contestait
The justice in the cause furth can proceid
Lowrence the actis and the proces wrait
And thus the pley unto the end thay speid
This cursit court corruptit all for meid
Aganis gude faith gude law and eik conscience
For this fals doig pronuncit the sentence
And it till put to executioun
The wolff chargit the scheip without delay
Under the panis off interdictioun
The soume off silver or the breid to pay
Off this sentence allace quhat sall I say
Quhilk dampnit hes the selie innocent
And justifyit the wrangous jugement
The scheip dreidand mair persecutioun
Obeyit to the sentence and couth tak
His way unto ane merchand off the toun
And sauld the woll that he bure on his bak
Syne bocht the breid and to the doig couth mak
Reddie payment as he commandit was
Naikit and bair syne to the feild couth pas
This selie scheip may present the figure
Of pure commounis that daylie ar opprest
Be tirrane men quhilkis settis all thair cure
Be fals meinis to mak ane wrang conquest
In hope this present lyfe suld ever lest
Bot all begylit thay will in schort tyme end
And efter deith to lestand panis wend
This wolf I likkin to ane schiref stout
Quhilk byis ane forfalt at the kingis hand
And hes with him ane cursit assyis about
And dytis all the pure men up on land
Fra the crownar haif laid on him his wand
Thocht he wer als trew as ever wes Sanct Johne -
Slain sall he be or with the juge compone
This ravin I likkin to ane fals crownair
Quhilk hes ane porteous of the inditement
And passis furth befoir the justice air
All misdoaris to bring to jugement
Bot luke gif he wes of ane trew intent
To scraip out Johne and wryte in Will or Wat
And swa ane bud at boith the parteis skat
Of this fals tod of quhilk I spak befoir
And of this gled quhat thay micht signify
Of thair nature as now I speik no moir
Bot of this scheip and of his cairfull cry
I sall reheirs for as I passit by
Quhair that he lay on cais I lukit doun
And hard him mak sair lamentatioun
Allace quod he this cursit consistorie
In middis of the winter now is maid
Quhen Boreas with blastis bitterlie
And frawart froistes thir flouris doun can faid
On bankis bair now may I mak na baid
And with that word in to ane coif he crap
Fra sair wedder and froistis him to hap
Quaikand for cauld sair murnand ay amang
Kest up his ee unto the hevinnis hicht
And said O lord quhy sleipis thow sa lang
Walk and discerne my cause groundit on richt
Se how I am be fraud maistrie and slicht
Peillit full bair and so is mony one
Now in this warld richt wonder wo begone
Se how this cursit syn of covetice
Exylit hes baith lufe lawtie and law
Now few or nane will execute justice
In falt of quhome the pure man is overthraw
The veritie suppois the juge it knaw
Thay ar so blindit with affectioun
But dreid for meid thay thoill the richt go doun
Seis thow not lord this warld overturnit is
As quha wald change gude gold in leid or tyn
The pure is peillit the lord may do na mis
And simonie is haldin for na syn
Now is he blyith with okker maist may wyn
Gentrice is slane and pietie is ago
Allace gude lord quhy tholis thow it so
Thow tholis this evin for our grit offence
Thow sendis us troubill and plaigis soir
As hunger derth grit weir or pestilence
Bot few amendis now thair lyfe thairfoir
We pure pepill as now may do no moir
Bot pray to the sen that we ar opprest
In to this eirth grant us in hevin gude rest
In middis of June that joly sweit seasoun
Quhen that fair Phebus with his bemis bricht
Had dryit up the dew fra daill and doun
And all the land maid with his bemis licht
In ane mornyng betuix mid day and nicht
I rais and put all sleuth and sleip asyde
And to ane wod I went allone but gyde
Sweit wes the smell off flouris quhyte and reid
The noyes off birdis richt delitious
The bewis braid blomit abone my heid
The ground growand with gers gratious
Off all plesance that place wes plenteous
With sweit odouris and birdis harmony
The morning myld my mirth wes mair for thy
The rosis reid arrayit rone and ryce
The prymeros and the purpour viola
To heir it wes ane poynt off paradice
Sic mirth the mavis and the merle couth ma
The blossummis blythe brak up on bank and bra
The smell off herbis and the fowlis cry
Contending quha suld have the victory
Me to conserve than fra the sonis heit
Under the schaddow off ane hawthorne grene
I lenit doun amang the flouris sweit
Syne maid a cors and closit baith my ene
On sleip I fell amang thir bewis bene
And in my dreme me thocht come throw the schaw
The fairest man that ever befoir I saw
His gowne wes off ane claith als quhyte as milk
His chymmeris wes off chambelate purpour broun
His hude off scarlet bordowrit weill with silk
On hekillit wyis untill his girdill doun
His bonat round and off the auld fassoun
His beird wes quhyte his ene wes grit and gray
With lokker hair quhilk over his schulderis lay
Ane roll off paper in his hand he bair
Ane swannis pen stikand under his eir
Ane inkhorne with ane prettie gilt pennair
Ane bag off silk all at his belt he weir
Thus wes he gudelie grathit in his geir
Off stature large and with ane feirfull face
Evin quhair I lay he come ane sturdie pace
And said God speid my sone and I wes fane
Off that couth word and off his cumpany
With reverence I salusit him agane
Welcome father and he sat doun me by
Displeis yow not my gude maister thocht I
Demand your birth your facultye and name
Quhy ye come heir or quhair ye dwell at hame
My sone said he I am off gentill blude
My native land is Rome withoutin nay
And in that towne first to the sculis I yude
In civile law studyit full mony ane day
And now my winning is in hevin for ay
Esope I hecht my writing and my werk
Is couth and kend to mony cunning clerk
O maister Esope poet lawriate
God wait ye ar full deir welcum to me
Ar ye not he that all thir fabillis wrate
Quhilk in effect suppois thay fenyeit be
Ar full off prudence and moralitie
Fair sone said he I am the samin man
God wait gif that my hert wes merie than
I said Esope my maister venerabill
I yow beseik hartlie for cheritie
Ye wald dedene to tell ane prettie fabill
Concludand with ane gude moralitie
Schaikand his heid he said My sone lat be
For quhat is it worth to tell ane fenyeit taill
Quhen haly preiching may na thing availl
Now in this warld me think richt few or nane
To Goddis word that hes devotioun
The eir is deif the hart is hard as stane
Now oppin sin without correctioun
The hart inclynand to the eirth ay doun
Sa roustie is the warld with canker blak
That now my taillis may lytill succour mak
Yit gentill schir said I for my requeist
Not to displeis your fatherheid I pray
Under the figure off ane brutall beist
Ane morall fabill ye wald denye to say
Quha wait nor I may leir and beir away
Sum thing thairby heirefter may availl
I grant quod he and thus begouth ane taill
Ane lyoun at his pray wery foirrun
To recreat his limmis and to rest
Beikand his breist and belly at the sun
Under ane tre lay in the fair forest
Swa come ane trip off myis out off thair nest
Richt tait and trig all dansand in ane gyis
And over the lyoun lansit twyis or thryis
He lay so still the myis wes not effeird
Bot to and fro out over him tuke thair trace
Sum tirlit at the campis off his beird
Sum spairit not to claw him on the face
Merie and glaid thus dansit thay ane space
Till at the last the nobill lyoun woke
And with his pow the maister mous he tuke
Scho gave ane cry and all the laif agast
Thair dansing left and hid thame sone alquhair
Scho that wes tane cryit and weipit fast
And said Allace oftymes that scho come thair
Now am I tane ane wofull presonair
And for my gilt traistis incontinent
Off lyfe and deith to thoill the jugement
Than spak the lyoun to that cairfull mous
Thow cative wretche and vile unworthie thing
Over malapart and eik presumpteous
Thow wes to mak out over me thy tripping
Knew thow not weill I wes baith lord and king
Off beistis all Yes quod the mous I knaw
Bot I misknew because ye lay so law
Lord I beseik thy kinglie royaltie
Heir quhat I say and tak in patience
Considder first my simple povertie
And syne thy mychtie hie magnyfycence
Se als how thingis done off neglygence
Nouther off malice nor of presumtioun
Erer suld have grace and remissioun
We wer repleit and had grit aboundance
Off alkin thingis sic as to us effeird
The sweit sesoun provokit us to dance
And mak sic mirth as nature to us leird
Ye lay so still and law upon the eird
That be my sawll we weind ye had bene deid
Elles wald we not have dancit over your heid
Thy fals excuse the lyoun said agane
Sall not availl ane myte I underta
I put the cace I had bene deid or slane
And syne my skyn bene stoppit full off stra
Thocht thow had found my figure lyand swa
Because it bare the prent off my persoun
Thow suld for feir on kneis have fallin doun
For thy trespas thow can mak na defence
My nobill persoun thus to vilipend
Off thy feiris nor thy awin negligence
For to excuse thow can na cause pretend
Thairfoir thow suffer sall ane schamefull end
And deith sic as to tressoun is decreit
Onto the gallous harlit be the feit
Na mercie lord at thy gentrice I ase
As thow art king off beistis coronate
Sober thy wraith and let it overpas
And mak thy mynd to mercy inclynate
I grant offence is done to thyne estate
Quhairfoir I worthie am to suffer deid
Bot gif thy kinglie mercie reik remeid
In everie juge mercy and reuth suld be
As assessouris and collaterall
Without mercie justice is crueltie
As said is in the lawis spirituall
Quhen rigour sittis in the tribunall
The equitie off law quha may sustene
Richt few or nane but mercie gang betwene
Alswa ye knaw the honour triumphall
Off all victour upon the strenth dependis
Off his conqueist quhilk manlie in battell
Throw jeopardie of weir lang defendis
Quhat pryce or loving quhen the battell endis
Is said off him that overcummis ane man
Him to defend quhilk nouther may nor can
Ane thowsand myis to kill and eik devoir
Is lytill manheid to ane strang lyoun
Full lytill worschip have ye wyn thairfoir
To quhais strenth is na comparisoun
It will degraid sum part off your renoun
To sla ane mous quhilk may mak na defence
Bot askand mercie at your excellence
Also it semis not your celsitude
Quhilk usis daylie meittis delitious
To fyle your teith or lippis with my blude
Quhilk to your stomok is contagious
Unhailsum meit is of ane sarie mous
And that namelie untill ane strang lyoun
Uont till be fed with gentill vennesoun
My lyfe is lytill worth my deith is les
Yit and I leif I may peradventure
Supple your hienes beand in distres
For oft is sene ane man off small stature
Reskewit hes ane lord off hie honour
Keipit that wes in poynt to be overthrawin
Throw misfortoun sic cace may be your awin
Quhen this wes said the lyoun his langage
Paissit and thocht according to ressoun
And gart mercie his cruell ire asswage
And to the mous grantit remissioun
Oppinnit his pow and scho on kneis fell doun
And baith hir handis unto the hevin upheild
Cryand Almichty God mot yow foryeild
Quhen scho wes gone the lyoun held to hunt
For he had nocht bot levit on his pray
And slew baith tayme and wyld as he wes wont
And in the cuntrie maid ane grit deray
Till at the last the pepill fand the way
This cruell lyoun how that thay mycht tak
Off hempyn cordis strang nettis couth thay mak
And in ane rod quhair he wes wont to ryn
With raipis rude fra tre to tre it band
Syne kest ane range on raw the wod within
With hornis blast and kennettis fast calland
The lyoun fled and throw the ron rynnand
Fell in the net and hankit fute and heid
For all his strenth he couth mak na remeid
Welterand about with hiddeous rummissing
Quhyle to quhyle fra quhill he mycht succour get
Bot all in vane it vailyeit him na thing
The mair he flang the faster wes the net
The raipis rude wes sa about him plet
On everilk syde that succour saw he nane
Bot styll lyand thus murnand maid his mane
O lamit lyoun liggand heir sa law
Quhair is the mycht off thy magnyfycence
Off quhome all brutall beist in eird stude aw
And dred to luke upon thy excellence
But hoip or help but succour or defence
In bandis strang heir man I ly allace
Till I be slane I se nane uther grace
Thair is na wy that will my harmis wreik
Nor creature do confort to my croun
Quha sall me bute Quha sall my bandis breik
Quha sall me put fra pane off this presoun
Be he had maid this lamentatioun
Throw aventure the lytill mous come neir
And off the lyoun hard the pietuous beir
And suddanlie it come in till hir mynd
That it suld be the lyoun did hir grace
And said Now wer I fals and richt unkynd
Bot gif I quit sumpart thy gentilnes
Thow did to me and on this way scho gais
To hir fellowis and on thame fast can cry
Cum help cum help and thay come all in hy
Lo quod the mous this is the samin lyoun
That grantit grace to me quhen I wes tane
And now is fast heir bundin in presoun
Brekand his hart with sair murning and mane
Bot we him help off souccour wait he nane
Cum help to quyte ane gude turne for ane uther
Go lous him sone and thay said ye gude brother
Thay tuke na knyfe thair teith wes scharpe anewch
To se that sicht forsuith it wes grit wounder -
How that thay ran amang the rapis tewch
Befoir behind sum yeid abone sum under
And schuir the raipis off the net in schunder
Syne bad him ryse and he start up anone
And thankit thame syne on his way is gone
Now is the lyoun fre off all danger
Lows and delyverit to his libertie
Be lytill beistis off ane small power
As ye have hard because he had pietie
Quod I Maister is thair ane moralitie
In this fabill Yea sone he said richt gude
I pray yow schir quod I Ye wald conclude
As I suppois this mychtie gay lyoun
May signifie ane prince or empriour
Ane potestate or yit ane king with croun
Quhilk suld be walkrife gyde and governour
Of his pepill that takis na labour
To reule and steir the land and justice keip
Bot lyis still in lustis sleuth and sleip
The fair forest with levis lowne and le
With foulis sang and flouris ferlie sweit
Is bot the warld and his prosperitie
As fals plesance myngit with cair repleit
Richt as the rois with froist and wynter weit
Faidis swa dois the warld and thame desavis
Quhilk in thair lustis maist confidence havis
Thir lytill myis ar bot the commountie
Wantoun unwyse without correctioun
Thair lordis and princis quhen that thay se
Of justice mak nane executioun
Thay dreid na thing to mak rebellioun
And disobey for quhy thay stand nane aw
That garris thame thair soveranis misknaw
Be this fabill ye lordis of prudence
May considder the vertew pietie
And to remit sumtyme ane grit offence
And mitigate with mercy crueltie
Oftymis is sene ane man of small degre
Hes quit a commoun baith for gude and ill
As lord hes done rigour or grace him till
Quha wait how sone ane lord of grit renoun
Rolland in wardlie lust and vane plesance
May be overthrawin destroyit and put doun
Throw fals fortoun quhilk of all variance
Is haill maistres and leidar of the dance
Till injust men and blindis thame so soir
That thay na perrell can provyde befoir
Thir rurall men that stentit hes the net
In quhilk the lyoun suddandlie wes tane
Waittit alway amendis for to get
For hurt men wrytis in the marbill stane 
Mair till expound as now I lett allane
Bot king and lord may weill wit quhat I mene
Figure heirof oftymis hes bene sene
Quhen this wes said quod Esope My fair child
Perswaid the kirkmen ythandly to pray
That tressoun of this cuntrie be exyld
And justice regne and lordis keip thair fay
Unto thair soverane king baith nycht and day
And with that word he vanist and I woke
Syne throw the schaw my journey hamewart tuke
The hie prudence and wirking mervelous
The profound wit off God omnipotent
Is sa perfyte and sa ingenious
Excellent far all mannis jugement
For quhy to Him all thing is ay present
Rycht as it is or ony tyme sall be
Befoir the sicht off His divinitie
Thairfoir our saull with sensualitie
So fetterit is in presoun corporall
We may not cleirlie understand nor se
God as He is nor thingis celestiall
Our mirk and deidlie corps materiale
Blindis the spirituall operatioun
Lyke as ane man wer bundin in presoun
In Metaphisik Aristotell sayis
That mannis saull is lyke ane bakkis ee
Quhilk lurkis still als lang as licht off day is
And in the gloming cummis furth to fle
Hir ene ar waik the sone scho may not se
Sa is our saull with fantasie opprest
To knaw the thingis in nature manifest
For God is in His power infinite
And mannis saull is febill and over small
Off understanding waik and unperfite
To comprehend Him that contenis all
Nane suld presume be ressoun naturall
To seirche the secreitis off the Trinitie
Bot trow fermelie and lat all ressoun be
Yit nevertheles we may haif knawlegeing
Off God almychtie be His creatouris
That He is gude fair wyis and bening
Exempill tak be thir jolie flouris
Rycht sweit off smell and plesant off colouris
Sum grene sum blew sum purpour quhyte and reid
Thus distribute be gift off His Godheid
The firmament payntit with sternis cleir
From eist to west rolland in cirkill round
And everilk planet in his proper spheir
In moving makand harmonie and sound
The fyre the air the watter and the ground -
Till understand it is aneuch I wis
That God in all His werkis wittie is
Luke weill the fische that swimmis in the se
Luke weill in eirth all kynd off bestyall
The foulis fair sa forcelie thay fle
Scheddand the air with pennis grit and small
Syne luke to man that He maid last off all
Lyke to His image and His similitude
Be thir we knaw that God is fair and gude
All creature He maid for the behufe
Off man and to his supportatioun
In to this eirth baith under and abufe
In number wecht and dew proportioun
The difference off tyme and ilk seasoun
Concorddand till our opurtunitie
As daylie be experience we may se
The somer with his jolie mantill grene
With flouris fair furrit on everilk fent
Quhilk Flora goddes off the flouris quene
Hes to that lord as for his seasoun lent
And Phebus with his goldin bemis gent
Hes purfellit and payntit plesandly
With heit and moysture stilland from the sky
Syne harvest hait quhen Ceres that goddes
Hir barnis benit hes with abundance
And Bachus god off wyne renewit hes
The tume pyipis in Italie and France
With wynis wicht and liquour off plesance
And copia temporis to fill hir horne
That never wes full off quheit nor uther corne
Syne wynter wan quhen austerne Eolus
God off the wynd with blastis boreall
The grene garment off somer glorious
Hes all to-rent and revin in pecis small
Than flouris fair faidit with froist man fall
And birdis blyith changit thair noitis sweit
In styll murning neir slane with snaw and sleit
Thir dalis deip with dubbis drounit is
Baith hill and holt heillit with frostis hair
And bewis bene ar bethit bair off blis
Be wickit windis off the winter wair
All wyld beistis than from the bentis bair
Drawis for dreid unto thair dennis deip
Coucheand for cauld in coifis thame to keip
Syne cummis ver quhen winter is away
The secretar off somer with his sell
Quhen columbie up keikis throw the clay
Quhilk fleit wes befoir with froistes fell
The mavis and the merle beginnis to mell
The lark on loft with uther birdis smale
Than drawis furth fra derne over doun and daill
That samin seasoun in to ane soft morning
Rycht blyth that bitter blastis wer ago
Unto the wod to se the flouris spring
And heir the mavis sing and birdis mo
I passit furth syne lukit to and fro
To se the soill that wes richt sessonabill
Sappie and to resave all seidis abill
Moving thusgait grit myrth I tuke in mynd
Off lauboraris to se the besines
Sum makand dyke and sum the pleuch can wynd
Sum sawand seidis fast frome place to place
The harrowis hoppand in the saweris trace
It wes grit joy to him that luifit corne
To se thame laubour baith at evin and morne
And as I baid under ane bank full bene
In hart gritlie rejosit off that sicht
Unto ane hedge under ane hawthorne grene
Off small birdis thair come ane ferlie flicht
And doun belyif can on the leifis licht
On everilk syde about me quhair I stude
Rycht mervellous ane mekill multitude
Amang the quhilks ane swallow loud couth cry
On that hawthorne hie in the croip sittand
O ye birdis on bewis heir me by
Ye sall weill knaw and wyislie understand
Quhair danger is or perrell appeirand
It is grit wisedome to provyde befoir
It to devoyd for dreid it hurt yow moir
Schir Swallow quod the lark agane and leuch
Quhat have ye sene that causis yow to dreid
Se ye yone churll quod scho beyond yone pleuch
Fast sawand hemp - lo se - and linget seid
Yone lint will grow in lytill tyme in deid
And thairoff will yone churll his nettis mak
Under the quhilk he thinkis us to tak
Thairfoir I reid we pas quhen he is gone
At evin and with our naillis scharp and small
Out off the eirth scraip we yone seid anone
And eit it up for giff it growis we sall
Have cause to weip heirefter ane and all
Se we remeid thairfoir furth-with instante
Nam levius laedit quicquid praevidimus ante 
For clerkis sayis it is nocht sufficient
To considder that is befoir thyne ee
Bot prudence is ane inwart argument
That garris ane man provyde befoir and se
Quhat gude quhat evill is liklie for to be
Off everilk thing evin at the fynall end
And swa fra perrell ethar him defend
The lark lauchand the swallow thus couth scorne
And said scho fischit lang befoir the net -
The barne is eith to busk that is unborne
All growis nocht that in the ground is set
The nek to stoup quhen it the straik sall get
Is sone aneuch deith on the fayest fall
Thus scornit thay the swallow ane and all
Despysing thus hir helthsum document
The foulis ferlie tuke thair flicht anone
Sum with ane bir thay braidit over the bent
And sum agane ar to the grene wod gone
Upon the land quhair I wes left allone
I tuke my club and hamewart couth I carie
Swa ferliand as I had sene ane farie
Thus passit furth quhill June that jolie tyde
And seidis that wer sawin off beforne
Wer growin hie that hairis mycht thame hyde
And als the quailye craikand in the corne
I movit furth betuix midday and morne
Unto the hedge under the hawthorne grene
Quhair I befoir the said birdis had sene
And as I stude be aventure and cace
The samin birdis as I haif said yow air -
I hoip because it wes thair hanting place
Mair off succour or yit mair solitair -
Thay lychtit doun and quhen thay lychtit wair
The swallow swyth put furth ane pietuous pyme
Said Wo is him can not bewar in tyme
O blind birdis and full off negligence
Unmyndfull off your awin prosperitie
Lift up your sicht and tak gude advertence
Luke to the lint that growis on yone le
Yone is the thing I bad forsuith that we
Quhill it wes seid suld rute furth off the eird
Now is it lint now is it hie on breird
Go yit quhill it is tender young and small
And pull it up let it na mair incres
My flesche growis my bodie quaikis all
Thinkand on it I may not sleip in peis
Thay cryit all and bad the swallow ceis
And said yone lint heirefter will do gude
For linget is to lytill birdis fude
We think quhen that yone lint bollis ar ryip
To mak us feist and fill us off the seid
Magre yone churll and on it sing and pyip
Weill quod the swallow freindes hardilie beid
Do as ye will bot certane sair I dreid
Heirefter ye sall find als sour as sweit
Quhen ye ar speldit on yone carlis speit
The awner off yone lint ane fouler is
Richt cautelous and full off subteltie
His pray full sendill tymis will he mis
Bot giff we birdis all the warrer be
Full mony off our kin he hes gart de
And thocht it bot ane sport to spill thair blude
God keip me fra him and the halie Rude
Thir small birdis haveand bot lytill thocht
Off perrell that mycht fall be aventure
The counsell off the swallow set at nocht
Bot tuke thair flicht and furth togidder fure
Sum to the wode sum markit to the mure
I tuke my staff quhen this wes said and done
And walkit hame for it drew neir the none
The lynt ryipit the carll pullit the lyne
Rippillit the bollis and in beitis set
It steipit in the burne and dryit syne
And with ane bittill knokkit it and bet
Syne swingillit it weill and hekkillit in the flet 
His wyfe it span and twynit it in to threid
Off quhilk the fowlar nettis maid indeid
The wynter come the wickit wind can blaw
The woddis grene wer wallowit with the weit
Baith firth and fell with froistys wer maid faw
Slonkis and slaik maid slidderie with the sleit
The foulis fair for falt thay fell off feit -
On bewis bair it wes na bute to byde
Bot hyit unto housis thame to hyde
Sum in the barn sum in the stak off corne
Thair lugeing tuke and maid thair residence
The fowlar saw and grit aithis hes sworne
Thay suld be tane trewlie for thair expence
His nettis hes he set with diligence
And in the snaw he schulit hes ane plane
And heillit it all over with calf agane
Thir small birdis seand the calff wes glaid
Trowand it had bene corne thay lychtit doun
Bot of the nettis na presume thay had
Nor of the fowlaris fals intentioun
To scraip and seik thair meit thay maid thame boun
The swallow on ane lytill branche neir by
Dreiddand for gyle thus loud on thame couth cry
Into that calf scraip quhill your naillis bleid -
Thair is na corne ye laubour all in vane
Trow ye yone churll for pietie will yow feid
Na na he hes it heir layit for ane trane
Remove I reid or ellis ye will be slane
His nettis he hes set full prively
Reddie to draw in tyme be war for thy
Grit fule is he that puttis in dangeir
His lyfe his honour for ane thing off nocht
Grit fule is he that will not glaidlie heir
Counsall in tyme quhill it availl him mocht
Grit fule is he that hes na thing in thocht
Bot thing present and efter quhat may fall
Nor off the end hes na memoriall
Thir small birdis for hunger famischit neir
Full besie scraipand for to seik thair fude
The counsall off the swallow wald not heir
Suppois thair laubour dyd thame lytill gude
Quhen scho thair fulische hartis understude
Sa indurate up in ane tre scho flew -
With that this churll over thame his nettis drew
Allace it wes grit hart sair for to se
That bludie bowcheour beit thay birdis doun
And for till heir quhen thay wist weill to de
Thair cairfull sang and lamentatioun
Sum with ane staf he straik to eirth on swoun
Off sum the heid off sum he brak the crag
Sum half on lyfe he stoppit in his bag
And quhen the swallow saw that thay wer deid
Lo quod scho thus it happinnis mony syis
On thame that will not tak counsall nor reid
Off prudent men or clerkis that ar wyis
This grit perrell I tauld thame mair than thryis
Now ar thay deid and wo is me thairfoir
Scho tuke hir flicht bot I hir saw no moir
Lo worthie folk Esope that nobill clerk
Ane poet worthie to be lawreate
Quhen that he waikit from mair autentik werk
With uther ma this foirsaid fabill wrate
Quhilk at this tyme may weill be applicate
To gude morall edificatioun
Haifand ane sentence according to ressoun
This carll and bond of gentrice spoliate
Sawand this calf thir small birdis to sla
It is the feind quhilk fra the angelike state
Exylit is as fals apostata
Quhilk day and nycht weryis not for to ga
Sawand poysoun and mony wickit thocht
In mannis saull quhilk Christ full deir hes bocht
And quhen the saull as seid in to the eird
Gevis consent in delectatioun
The wickit thocht beginnis for to breird
In deidlie sin quhilk is dampnatioun
Ressoun is blindit with affectioun
And carnall lust grouis full grene and gay
Throw consuetude hantit from day to day
Proceding furth be use and consuetude
The sin ryipis and schame is set on syde
The feynd plettis his nettis scharp and rude
And under plesance previlie dois hyde
Syne on the feild he sawis calf full wyde
Quhilk is bot tume and verray vanitie
Of fleschlie lust and vaine prosperitie
Thir hungrie birdis wretchis we may call
Ay scraipand in this warldis vane plesance
Greddie to gadder gudis temporall
Quhilk as the calf ar tume without substance
Lytill of availl and full of variance
Lyke to the mow befoir the face of wind
Quhiskis away and makis wretchis blind
This swallow quhilk eschaipit is the snair
The halie preichour weill may signifie
Exhortand folk to walk and ay be wair
Fra nettis of our wickit enemie
Quha sleipis not bot ever is reddie
Quhen wretchis in this warldis calf dois scraip
To draw his net that thay may not eschaip
Allace quhat cair quhat weiping is and wo
Quhen saull and bodie partit ar in twane
The bodie to the wormis keitching go
The saull to fyre to everlestand pane
Quhat helpis than this calf thir gudis vane
Quhen thow art put in Luceferis bag
And brocht to hell and hangit be the crag
Thir hid nettis for to persave and se
This sarie calf wyislie to understand
Best is bewar in maist prosperitie
For in this warld thair is na thing lestand
Is na man wait how lang his stait will stand
His lyfe will lest nor how that he sall end
Efter his deith nor quhidder he sall wend
Pray we thairfoir quhill we ar in this lyfe
For four thingis the first fra sin remufe
The secund is to seis all weir and stryfe
The thrid is perfite cheritie and lufe
The feird thing is and maist for our behufe
That is in blis with angellis to be fallow
And thus endis the preiching of the swallow
Qwhylum thair wynnit in ane wildernes
As myne authour expreslie can declair
Ane revand wolff that levit upon purches
On bestiall and maid him weill to fair
Wes nane sa big about him he wald spair
And he war hungrie outher for favour or feid
Bot in his breith he weryit thame to deid
Swa happinnit him in watching as he went
To meit ane foxe in middis off the way
He him foirsaw and fenyeit to be schent
And with ane bek he bad the wolff gude day
Welcum to me quod he thow Russell gray
Syne loutit doun and tuke him be the hand
Ryse up Lowrence I leif the for to stand
Quhair hes thow bene this sesoun fra my sicht
Thow sall beir office and my stewart be
For thow can knap doun caponis on the nicht
And lourand law thow can gar hennis de
Schir said the foxe that ganis not for me
And I am rad gif thay me se on far
That at my figure beist and bird will skar
Na quod the wolff thow can in covert creip
Upon thy wame and hint thame be the heid
And mak ane suddand schow upon ane scheip
Syne with thy wappinnis wirrie him to deid
Schir said the foxe ye knaw my roib is reid
And thairfoir thair will na beist abyde me
Thocht I wald be sa fals as for to hyde me
Yis quod the wolff throw buskis and throw brais
Law can thow lour to come to thy intent
Schir said the foxe ye wait weill how it gais
Ane lang space fra thame thay will feill my sent
Than will thay eschaip suppois thay suld be schent
And I am schamefull for to cum behind thame
In to the feild thocht I suld sleipand find thame
Na quod the wolff thow can cum on the wind
For everie wrink forsuith thow hes ane wyle
Schir said the foxe that beist ye mycht call blind
That micht not eschaip than fra me ane myle
How micht I ane off thame that wyis begyle
My tippit twa eiris and my twa gray ene
Garris me be kend quhair I wes never sene
Than said the wolff Lowrence I heir the le
And castys for perrellis thy ginnes to defend
Bot all thy sonyeis sall not availl the
About the busk with wayis thocht thow wend
Falset will failye ay at the latter end
To bow at bidding and byde not quhill thow brest 
Thairfoir I giff the counsall for the best
Schir said the foxe it is Lentring ye se
I can nocht fische for weiting off my feit
To tak ane banestikill thocht we baith suld de
I have nane uther craft to win my meit
Bot wer it Pasche that men suld pultrie eit
As kiddis lambis or caponis in to ply
To beir your office than wald I not set by
Than said the wolff in wraith Wenis thou with wylis
And with thy mony mowis me to mat
It is ane auld dog doutles that thow begylis
Thow wenis to drau the stra befoir the cat
Schir said the foxe God wait I mene not that
For and I did it wer weill worth that ye
In ane rude raip had tyit me till ane tre
Bot nou I se he is ane fule perfay
That with his maister fallis in ressoning
I did bot till assay quhat ye wald say
God wait my mynd wes on ane uther thing
I sall fulfill in all thing your bidding
Quhat ever ye charge on nichtis or on dayis
Weill quod the wolff I heir weill quhat thou sayis
Bot yit I will thow mak to me ane aith
For to be leill attour all levand leid
Schir said the foxe that ane word maks me wraith
For nou I se ye have me at ane dreid
Yit sall I sweir suppois it be not neid
Be Juppiter and on pane off my heid
I sall be treu to you quhill I be deid
With that ane cadgear with capill and with creillis
Come carpand furth than Lowrence culd him spy
The foxe the flewer off the fresche hering feillis
And to the wolff he roundis prively
Schir yone ar hering the cadgear caryis by
Thairfoir I reid that we se for sum wayis
To get sum fische aganis thir fasting dayis
Sen I am stewart I wald we had sum stuff
And ye ar silver-seik I wait richt weill
Thocht we wald thig yone verray churlische chuff
He will not giff us ane hering off his creill
Befoir yone churle on kneis thocht we wald kneill
Bot yit I trou alsone that ye sall se
Giff I can craft to bleir yone carlis ee
Schir ane thing is and we get off yone pelff
Ye man tak travell and mak us sum supple
For he that will not laubour and help him selff
In to thir dayis he is not worth ane fle
I think to work als besie as ane be -
And ye sall follou ane lytill efterwart
And gadder hering for that sall be your part
With that he kest ane cumpas far about
And straucht him doun in middis off the way
As he wer deid he fenyeit him but dout
And than upon lenth unliklie lay
The quhyte he turnit up off his ene tuay
His toung out hang ane handbreid off his heid
And still he lay als straucht as he wer deid
The cadgear fand the foxe and he wes fane
And till him self thus softlie can he say
At the nixt bait in faith ye sall be flane
And off your skyn I sall mak mittenis tway
He lap full lichtlie about him quhair he lay
And all the trace he trippit on his tais
As he had hard ane pyper play he gais
Heir lyis the Devyll quod he deid in ane dyke
Sic ane selcouth sau I not this sevin yeir
I trou ye have bene tussillit with sum tyke
That garris you ly sa still withoutin steir
Schir Foxe in faith ye ar deir welcum heir
It is sum wyfis malisone I trow
For pultrie pyking that lychtit hes on yow
Thair sall na pedder for purs nor yit for glufis
Nor yit for poyntis pyke your pellet fra me
I sall off it mak mittenis to my lufis
Till hald my handis hait quhair ever I be
Till Flanderis sall it never saill the se
With that in hy he hint him be the heillis
And with ane swak he swang him on the creillis
Syne be the heid the hors in hy hes hint
The fraudfull foxe thairto gude tent hes tane
And with his teith the stoppell or he stint
Pullit out and syne the hering ane and ane
Out off the creillis he swakkit doun gude wane
The wolff wes war and gadderit spedilie
The cadgear sang Huntis up up upon hie
Yit at ane burne the cadgear lukit about
With that the foxe lap quyte the creillis fray
The cadgear wald have raucht the foxe ane rout
Bot all for nocht he wan his hoill that day
Than with ane schout thus can the cadgear say
Abyde and thou ane nekhering sall haif
Is worth my capill creillis and all the laif
Now quod the foxe I schreu me and we meit
I hard quhat thou hecht to do with my skyn
Thy handis sall never in thay mittinnis tak heit
And thou wer hangit carll and all thy kyn
Do furth thy mercat - at me thou sall nocht wyn -
And sell thy hering thou hes thair till hie price
Ellis thow sall wyn nocht on thy merchandice
The cadgear trimmillit for teyne quhair that he stude
It is weill worthie quod he I want yone tyke
That had nocht in my hand sa mekill gude
As staff or sting yone truker for to stryke
With that lychtlie he lap out over ane dyke
And hakkit doun ane staff - for he wes tene -
That hevie wes and off the holyne grene
With that the foxe unto the wolff could wend
And fand him be the hering quhair he lyis
Schir said he thanmaid I not fair defend
Ane wicht man wantit never and he wer wyis
Ane hardie hart is hard for to suppryis
Than said the wolff Thow art ane berne full bald
And wyse at will in gude tyme be it tald
Bot quhat wes yone the carll cryit on hie
And schuke his hand quod he Hes thou no feill
Schir said the foxe that I can tell trewlie
He said the nekhering wes in till the creill
Kennis thou that hering Ye schir I ken it weill
And at the creill mouth I had it thryis but dout
The wecht off it neir tit my tuskis out
Now suithlie schir micht we that hering fang
It wald be fische to us thir fourtie dayis
Than said the wolff Nou God nor that I hang
Bot to be thair I wald gif all my clays
To se gif that my wappinnis mycht it rais
Schir said the foxe God wait I wischit you oft
Quhen that my pith micht not beir it on loft
It is ane syde off salmond as it wair
And callour pypand lyke ane pertrik ee
It is worth all the hering ye have thair -
Ye and we had it swa is it worth sic thre
Than said the wolff Quhat counsell gevis thou me
Schir said the foxe wirk efter my devyis
And ye sall have it and tak you na suppryis
First ye man cast ane cumpas far about
Syne straucht you doun in middis off the way
Baith heid and feit and taill ye man streik out
Hing furth your toung and clois weill your ene tway
Syne se your heid on ane hard place ye lay
And dout not for na perrell may appeir
Bot hald you clois quhen that carll cummis neir
And thocht ye se ane staf have ye na dout
Bot hald you wonder still in to that steid
And luke your ene be clois as thay wer out
And se that ye schrink nouther fute nor heid
Than will the cadgear carll trou ye be deid
And in till haist will hint you be the heillis
As he did me and swak you on his creillis
Now quod the wolff I sweir the be my thrift
I trou yone cadgear carll dow not me beir
Schir said the foxe on loft he will you lift
Upon his creillis and do him lytill deir -
Bot ane thing dar I suithlie to you sweir
Get ye that hering sicker in sum place
Ye sall not fair in fisching mair quhill Pasche
I sall say In principio upon yow
And crose your corps from the top to tay
Wend quhen ye will I dar be warrand now
That ye sall de na suddand deith this day
With that the wolff gird up sone and to gay
And caist ane cumpas about the cadgear far
Syne raucht him in the gait or he come nar
He laid his halfheid sicker hard and sad
Syne straucht his four feit fra him and his heid
And hang his toung furth as the foxe him bad
Als styll he lay as he wer verray deid
Rakkand na thing off the carlis favour nor feid
Bot ever upon the nekhering he thinkis
And quyte foryettis the foxe and all his wrinkis
With that the cadgear als wraith as ony wind
Come rydand on the laid for it wes licht
Thinkand ay on the foxe that wes behind
Upon quhat wyse revenge him best he micht
And at the last of the wolff gat ane sicht
Quhair he in lenth lay streikit in the gait -
Bot giff he lichtit doun or nocht God wait
Softlie he said I wes begylit anis
Be I begylit twyis I schrew us baith
That evill bot it sall licht upon thy banis
He suld have had that hes done me the skaith
On hicht he hovit the staf for he wes wraith
And hit him with sic will upon the heid
Quhill neir he swonit and swelt in to that steid
Thre battis he bure or he his feit micht find
Bot yit the wolff wes wicht and wan away
He mycht not se he wes sa verray blind
Nor wit reddilie quhether it wes nicht or day
The foxe beheld that service quhair he lay
And leuch on loft quhen he the wolff sa seis
Baith deif and dosinnit fall swonand on his kneis
He that of ressoun can not be content
Bot covetis all is abill all to tyne
The foxe quhen that he saw the wolff wes schent
Said to him self Thir hering sall be myne
I le or ellis he wes efterwart fyne
That fand sic wayis his maister for to greif
With all the fische thus Lowrence tuke his leif
The wolff wes neir weill dungin to the deid
That uneith with his lyfe away he wan
For with the bastoun weill brokin wes his heid
The foxe in to his den sone drew him than
That had betraisit his maister and the man
The ane wantit the hering off his creillis
The utheris blude wes rynnand over his heillis
This taill is myngit with moralitie
As I sall schaw sumquhat or that I ceis
The foxe unto the warld may likkinnit be
The revand wolf unto ane man but leis
The cadgear deith quhome under all man preis -
That ever tuke lyfe throw cours of kynd man dee
As man and beist and fische in to the see
The warld ye wait is stewart to the man
Quhilk makis man to haif na mynd of deid
Bot settis for winning all the craftis thay can
The hering I likkin unto the gold sa reid
Quhilk gart the wolf in perrell put his heid
Richt swa the gold garris landis and cieteis
With weir be waistit daylie as men seis
And as the foxe with dissimulance and gyle
Gart the wolf wene to haif worschip for ever
Richt swa this warld with vane glore for ane quhyle
Flatteris with folk as thay suld failye never
Yit suddandlie men seis it oft dissever
With thame that trowis oft to fill the sek -
Deith cummis behind and nippis thame be the nek
The micht of gold makis mony men sa blind
That settis on avarice thair felicitie
That thay foryet the cadgear cummis behind
To stryke thame of quhat stait sa ever thay be
Quhat is mair dirk than blind prosperitie
Quhairfoir I counsell mychtie men to haif mynd
Of the nekhering interpreit in this kynd
In elderis dayis as Esope can declair
Thair wes ane husband quhilk had ane plewch to steir
His use wes ay in morning to ryse air
Sa happinnit him in streiking tyme off yeir
Airlie in the morning to follou furth his feir
Unto the pleuch bot his gadman and he
His stottis he straucht with Benedicite
The caller cryit How Haik upon hicht
Hald draucht my dowis syne broddit thame full sair 
The oxin wes unusit young and licht
And for fersnes thay couth the fur forfair 
The husband than woxe angrie as ane hair
Syne cryit and caist his patill and grit stanis
The wolff quod he mot have you all at anis
Bot yit the wolff wes neirar nor he wend
For in ane busk he lay and Lowrence baith
In ane rouch rone wes at the furris end
And hard the hecht than Lowrence leuch full raith
To tak yone bud quod he it wer na skaith
Weill quod the wolff I hecht the be my hand
Yone carlis word as he wer king sall stand
The oxin waxit mair reulie at the last
Syne efter thay lousit fra that it worthit weill lait 
The husband hamewart with his cattell past
Than sone the wolff come hirpilland in his gait
Befoir the oxin and schupe to mak debait
The husband saw him and worthit sumdeill agast
And bakwart with his beistis wald haif past
The wolff said Quhether dryvis thou this pray
I chalenge it for nane off thame ar thyne
The man thairoff wes in ane felloun fray
And soberlie to the wolff answerit syne
Schir be my saull thir oxin ar all myne
Thairfoir I studdie quhy ye suld stop me
Sen that I faltit never to you trewlie
The wolff said Carll gaif thou not me this drift
Airlie quhen thou wes eirrand on yone bank
And is thair oucht sayis thou frear than gift
This tarying wyll tyne the all thy thank
Far better is frelie for to giff ane plank
Nor be compellit on force to giff ane mart
Fy on the fredome that cummis not with hart
Schir quod the husband ane man may say in greif
And syne ganesay fra he avise and se
I hecht to steill am I thairfoir ane theif
God forbid schir all hechtis suld haldin be
Gaif I my hand or oblissing quod he
Or have ye witnes or writ for to schau
Schir reif me not bot go and seik the lau
Carll quod the wolff ane lord and he be leill
That schrinkis for schame or doutis to be repruvit -
His sau is ay als sickker as his seill
Fy on the leid that is not leill and lufit
Thy argument is fals and eik contrufit
For it is said in proverb But lawte
All uther vertewis ar nocht worth ane fle
Schir said the husband remember of this thing
Ane leill man is not tane at halff ane taill 
I may say and ganesay I am na king
Quhair is your witnes that hard I hecht thame haill
Than said the wolff Thairfoir it sall nocht faill
Lowrence quod he cum hidder of that schaw
And say na thing bot as thow hard and saw
Lowrence come lourand for he lufit never licht
And sone appeirit befoir thame in that place
The man leuch na thing quhen he saw that sicht
Lowrence quod the wolff thow man declair this cace
Quhairof we sall schaw the suith in schort space
I callit on the leill witnes for to beir
Quhat hard thou that this man hecht me lang eir
Schir said the tod I can not hastelie
Swa sone as now gif sentence finall
Bot wald ye baith submit yow heir to me
To stand at my decreit perpetuall
To pleis baith I suld preif gif it may fall
Weill quod the wolff I am content for me
The man said Swa am I how ever it be
Than schew thay furth thair allegeance but fabill
And baith proponit thair pley to him compleit
Quod Lowrence Now I am juge amycabill
Ye sall be sworne to stand at my decreit
Quhether heirefter ye think it soure or sweit
The wolff braid furth his fute the man his hand
And on the toddis taill sworne thay ar to stand
Than tuke the tod the man furth till ane syde
And said him Freind thou art in blunder brocht
The wolff will not forgif the ane oxe hyde
Yit wald my self fane help the and I mocht
Bot I am laith to hurt my conscience ocht
Tyne nocht thy querrell in thy awin defence
This will not throu but grit coist and expence
Seis thou not buddis beiris bernis throw
And giftis garris crukit materis hald full evin
Sumtymis ane hen haldis ane man in ane kow
All ar not halie that heifis thair handis to hevin
Schir said the man ye sall have sex or sevin
Richt off the fattest hennis off all the floik -
I compt not all the laif leif me the coik
I am ane juge quod Lowrence than and leuch
Thair is na buddis suld beir me by the rycht 
I may tak hennis and caponis weill aneuch
For God is gane to sleip as for this nycht
Sic small thingis ar not sene in to His sicht
Thir hennis quod he sall mak thy querrell sure
With emptie hand na man suld halkis lure
Concordit thus than Lowrence tuke his leiff
And to the wolff he went in to ane ling
Syne prevelie he plukkit him be the sleiff
Is this in ernist quod he ye ask sic thing
Na be my saull I trow it be in heithing
Than said the wolff Lowrence quhy sayis thou sa
Thow hard the hecht thy selff that he couth ma
The hecht quod he yone man maid at the pleuch -
Is that the cause quhy ye the cattell craif
Halff in to heithing said Lowrence than and leuch
Schir be the Rude unroikit now ye raif
The Devill ane stirk taill thairfoir sall ye haif
Wald I tak it upon my conscience
To do sa pure ane man as yone offence
Yit haif I commonnit with the carll quod he
We ar concordit upon this cunnand
Quyte off all clamis swa ye will mak him fre
Ye sall ane cabok have in to your hand
That sic ane sall not be in all this land
For it is somer cheis baith fresche and fair
He sayis it weyis ane stane and sumdeill mair
Is that thy counsell quod the wolff I do
That yone carll for ane cabok suld be fre
Ye be my saull and I wer sworne yow to
Ye suld nane uther counsell have for me
For gang ye to the maist extremitie
It will not wyn yow worth ane widderit neip
Schir trow ye not I have ane saull to keip
Weill quod the wolff it is aganis my will
That yone carll for ane cabok suld ga quyte
Schir quod the tod ye tak it in nane evill
For be my saull your self had all the wyte
Than said the wolff I bid na mair to flyte
Bot I wald se yone cabok off sic pryis
Schir said the tod he tauld me quhair it lyis
Than hand in hand thay held unto ane hill
The husband till his hous hes tane the way
For he wes fane he schaippit from thair ill
And on his feit woke the dure quhill day
Now will we turne unto the uther tway
Throw woddis waist thir freikis on fute can fair
Fra busk to busk quhill neir midnycht and mair
Lowrence wes ever remembring upon wrinkis
And subtelteis the wolff for to begyle
That he had hecht ane caboik he forthinkis
Yit at the last he findis furth ane wyle
Than at him selff softlie couth he smyle
The wolff sayis Lowrence thou playis bellie blind
We seik all nycht bot na thing can we find
Schir said the tod we ar at it almaist
Soft yow ane lytill and ye sall se it sone
Than to ane manure place thay hyit in haist
The nycht wes lycht and pennyfull the mone
Than till ane draw well thir senyeours past but hone 
Quhair that twa bukkettis severall suithlie hang
As ane come up ane uther doun wald gang
The schadow off the mone schone in the well
Schir said Lowrence anis ye sall find me leill
Now se ye not the caboik weill your sell
Quhyte as ane neip and round als as ane seill
He hang it yonder that na man suld it steill
Schir traist ye weill yone caboik ye se hing
Micht be ane present to ony lord or king
Na quod the wolff mycht I yone caboik haif
On the dry land as I it yonder se
I wald quitclame the carll off all the laif
His dart oxin I compt thame not ane fle
Yone wer mair meit for sic ane man as me
Lowrence quod he leip in the bukket sone
And I sall hald the ane quhill thow have done
Lowrence gird doun baith sone and subtellie
The uther baid abufe and held the flaill
It is sa mekill quod Lowrence it maisteris me
On all my tais it hes not left ane naill
Ye man mak help upwart and it haill
Leip in the uther bukket haistelie
And cum sone doun and mak me sum supple
Than lychtlie in the bukket lap the loun
His wecht but weir the uther end gart ryis
The tod come hailland up the wolff yeid doun
Than angerlie the wolff upon him cryis
I cummand thus dounwart quhy thow upwart hyis
Schir quod the foxe thus fairis it off fortoun
As ane cummis up scho quheillis ane uther doun
Than to the ground sone yeid the wolff in haist
The tod lap on land als blyith as ony bell
And left the wolff in watter to the waist
Quha haillit him out I wait not off the well
Heir endis the text thair is na mair to tell
Yyt men may find ane gude moralitie
In this sentence thocht it ane fabill be
This wolf I likkin to ane wickit man
Quhilk dois the pure oppres in everie place
And pykis at thame all querrellis that he can
Be rigour reif and uther wickitnes
The foxe the feind I call into this cais
Arctand ilk man to ryn unrychteous rinkis
Thinkand thairthrow to lok him in his linkis
The husband may be callit ane godlie man
With quhome the feynd falt findes as clerkis reids
Besie to tempt him with all wayis that he can
The hennis ar warkis that fra ferme faith proceidis
Quhair sic sproutis spreidis the evill spreit thair not speids
Bot wendis unto the wickit man agane -
That hes tint his travell is full unfane
The wodds waist quhairin wes the wolf wyld
Ar wickit riches quhilk all men gaipis to get
Quha traistis in sic trusterie ar oft begyld
For mammon may be callit the Devillis net
Quhilk Sathanas for all sinfull hes set
With proud plesour quha settis his traist thairin
But speciall grace lychtlie can not outwin
The cabok may be callit covetyce
Quhilk blomis braid in mony mannis ee
Wa worth the well of that wickit vyce
For it is all bot fraud and fantasie
Dryvand ilk man to leip in the buttrie
That dounwart drawis unto the pane of hell -
Christ keip all Christianis from that wickit well
Qwhylum thair wes as Esope can report
Ane scheipheird duelland be ane forrest neir
Quhilk had ane hound that did him grit comfort
Full war he wes to walk his fauld but weir
That nouther wolff nor wildcat durst appeir
Nor foxe on feild nor yit no uther beist
Bot he thame slew or chaissit at the leist
Sa happinnit it as everilk beist man de
This hound off suddand seiknes to be deid
Bot than God wait the keipar off the fe
For verray wo woxe wanner nor the weid
Allace quod he now se I na remeid
To saif the selie beistis that I keip
For with the wolff weryit beis all my scheip
It wald have maid ane mannis hart sair to se
The selie scheiphirdis lamentatioun
Now is my darling deid allace quod he
For now to beg my breid I may be boun
With pyikstaff and with scrip to fair off toun
For all the beistis befoir that bandonit bene
Will schute upon my beistis with ire and tene
With that ane wedder wichtlie wan on fute
Maister quod he mak merie and be blyith
To brek your hart for baill it is na bute
For ane deid dog ye na cair on yow kyith
Ga fetche him hither and fla his skyn off swyth
Syne sew it on me - and luke that it be meit
Baith heid and crag bodie taill and feit
Than will the wolff trow that I am he
For I sall follow him fast quhar ever he fair
All haill the cure I tak it upon me
Your scheip to keip at midday lait and air
And he persew be God I sall not spair
To follow him as fast as did your doig
Swa that I warrand ye sall not want ane hoig
Than said the scheipheird This come of ane gude wit
Thy counsall is baith sicker leill and trew
Quha sayis ane scheip is daft thay lieit of it
With that in hy the doggis skyn off he flew
And on the scheip rycht softlie couth it sew
Than worth the wedder wantoun off his weid
Now off the wolff quod he I have na dreid
In all thingis he counterfait the dog
For all the nycht he stude and tuke na sleip
Swa that weill lang thair wantit not ane hog
Swa war he wes and walkryfe thame to keip
That Lowrence durst not luke upon ane scheip -
For and he did he followit him sa fast
That off his lyfe he maid him all agast
Was nowther wolff wildcat nor yit tod
Durst cum within thay boundis all about
Bot he wald chase thame baith throw rouch and snod
Thay bailfull beistis had of thair lyvis sic dout
For he wes mekill and semit to be stout
That everilk beist thay dred him as the deid
Within that woid that nane durst hald thair heid
Yit happinnit thair ane hungrie wolff to slyde
Out throw his scheip quhair thay lay on ane le
I sall have ane quod he quhat ever betyde
Thocht I be werryit for hunger or I de
With that ane lamb in till his cluke hint he
The laif start up for thay wer all agast
Bot God wait gif the wedder followit fast
Went never hound mair haistelie fra the hand
Quhen he wes rynnand maist raklie at the ra
Nor went this wedder baith over mois and strand
And stoppit nouther at bank busk nor bra
Bot followit ay sa ferslie on his fa
With sic ane drift quhill dust and dirt over-draif him
And maid ane vow to God that he suld have him
With that the wolff let out his taill on lenth
For he wes hungrie and it drew neir the ene
And schupe him for to ryn with all his strenth
Fra he the wedder sa neir cummand had sene
He dred his lyfe and he overtane had bene
Thairfoir he spairit nowther busk nor boig
For weill he kennit the kenenes off the doig
To mak him lycht he kest the lamb him fra
Syne lap over leis and draif throw dub and myre
Na quod the wedder in faith we part not swa
It is not the lamb bot the that I desyre
I sall cum neir for now I se the tyre
The wolff ran still quhill ane strand stude behind him
Bot ay the neirar the uedder he couth bind him
Sone efter that he followit him sa neir
Quhill that the wolff for fleidnes fylit the feild
Syne left the gait and ran throw busk and breir
And schupe him fra the schawis for to scheild 
He ran restles for he wist off na beild
The wedder followit him baith out and in
Quhill that ane breir busk raif rudelie off the skyn
The wolff wes wer and blenkit him behind
And saw the wedder come thrawand throw the breir
Syne saw the doggis skyn hingand on his lind
Na quod he is this ye that is sa neir
Richt now ane hound and now quhyte as ane freir
I fled over fer and I had kennit the cais
To God I vow that ye sall rew this rais
Quhat wes the cause ye gaif me sic ane katche
With that in hy he hint him be the horne
For all your mowis ye met anis with your matche
Suppois ye leuch me all this yeir to scorne
For quhat enchessoun this doggis skyn have ye borne
Maister quod he bot to have playit with yow
I yow requyre that ye nane uther trow
Is this your bourding in ernist than quod he
For I am verray effeirit and on flocht
Cum bak agane and I sall let yow se
Than quhar the gait wes grimmit he him brocht
Quhether call ye this fair play or nocht
To set your maister in sa fell effray
Quhill he for feiritnes hes fylit up the way
Thryis be my saull ye gart me schute behind
Upon my hoichis the senyeis may be sene
For feiritnes full oft I fylit the wind
Now is this ye Na bot ane hound I wene 
Me think your teith over schort to be sa kene
Blissit be the busk that reft yow your array
Ellis fleand bursin had I bene this day
Schir quod the wedder suppois I ran in hy
My mynd wes never to do your persoun ill
Ane flear gettis ane follower commounly
In play or ernist preif quha sa ever will
Sen I bot playit be gracious me till
And I sall gar my freindis blis your banis
Ane full gude servand will crab his maister anis
I have bene oftymis set in grit effray
Bot be the Rude sa rad yit wes I never
As thow hes maid me with thy prettie play
I schot behind quhen thow overtuke me ever
Bot sikkerlie now sall we not dissever
Than be crag-bane smertlie he him tuke
Or ever he ceissit and it in schunder schuke
Esope that poet first father of this fabill
Wrait this parabole quhilk is convenient
Because the sentence wes fructuous and agreabill
In moralitie exemplative prudent
Quhais problemes bene verray excellent
Throw similitude of figuris to this day
Gevis doctrine to the redaris of it ay
Heir may thow se that riches of array
Will cause pure men presumpteous for to be
Thay think thay hald of nane be thay als gay 
Bot counterfute ane lord in all degre
Out of thair cais in pryde thay clym sa hie
That thay forbeir thair better in na steid
Quhill sum man tit thair heillis over thair heid
Richt swa in service uther sum exceidis
And thay haif withgang welth and cherising
That thay will lychtlie lordis in thair deidis
And lukis not to thair blude nor thair offspring
Bot yit nane wait how lang that reull will ring
Bot he was wyse that bad his sone considder
Bewar in welth for hall benkis ar rycht slidder
Thairfoir I counsell men of everilk stait
To knaw thame self and quhome thay suld forbeir
And fall not with thair better in debait
Suppois thay be als galland in thair geir
It settis na servand for to uphald weir
Nor clym sa hie quhill he fall of the ledder
Bot think upon the wolf and on the wedder
Ane cruell wolff richt ravenous and fell
Upon ane tyme past to ane reveir
Descending from ane rotche unto ane well
To slaik his thrist drank of the watter cleir
Swa upon cace ane selie lamb come neir
Bot of his fa the wolff na thing he wist
And in the streme laipit to cule his thrist
Thus drank thay baith bot not of ane intent
The wolfis thocht wes all on wickitnes
The selie lamb wes meik and innocent
Upon the rever in ane uther place
Beneth the wolff he drank ane lytill space
Quhill him thocht gude presomyng thair nane ill
The wolff this saw and rampand come him till
With girnand teith and angrie austre luke
Said to the lamb Thow cative wretchit thing
How durst thow be sa bald to fyle this bruke
Quhar I suld drink with thy foull slavering
It wer almous the for to draw and hing
That suld presume with thy foull lippis wyle
To glar my drink and this fair watter fyle
The selie lamb quaikand for verray dreid
On kneis fell and said Schir with your leif
Suppois I dar not say thairoff ye leid
Bot be my saull I wait ye can nocht preif
That I did ony thing that suld yow greif
Ye wait alswa that your accusatioun
Failyeis fra treuth and contrair is to ressoun
Thocht I can nocht nature will me defend
And off the deid perfyte experience
All hevie thing man off the selff discend
Bot giff sum thing on force mak resistence
Than may the streme on na way mak ascence
Nor ryn bakwart I drank beneth yow far
Ergo for me your bruke wes never the war
Alswa my lippis sen that I wes ane lam
Tuitchit na thing that wes contagious
Bot sowkit milk from pappis off my dam
Richt naturall sweit and als delitious
Weill quod the wolff thy language rigorus
Cummis the off kynd swa thy father before
Held me at bait baith with boist and schore
He wraithit me and than I culd him warne
Within ane yeir and I brukit my heid
I suld be wrokkin on him or on his barne
For his exorbetant and frawart pleid
Thow sall doutles for his deidis be deid
Schir it is wrang that for the fatheris gilt
The saikles sone suld punist be or spilt
Haiff ye not hard quhat Halie Scripture sayis
Endytit with the mouth off God almycht
Off his awin deidis ilk man sall beir the pais
As pyne for sin reward for werkis rycht
For my trespas quhy suld my sone have plycht
Quha did the mis lat him sustene the pane
Yaa quod the wolff Yit pleyis thow agane
I let the wit quhen that the father offendis
I will cheris nane off his successioun
And off his barnis I may weill tak amendis
Unto the twentie degre descending doun
Thy father thocht to mak ane strang poysoun
And with his mouth into my watter spew
Schir quod the lamb thay twa ar nouther trew
The law sayis and ye will understand
Thair suld na man for wrang nor violence
His adversar punis at his awin hand
Without proces off law and evidence
Quhilk suld have leif to mak lawfull defence
And thairupon summond peremtourly
For to propone contrairie or reply
Set me ane lauchfull court I sall compeir
Befoir the lyoun lord and leill justice
And be my hand I oblis me rycht heir
That I sall byde ane unsuspect assyis
This is the law this is the instant wyis
Ye suld pretend thairfoir ane summondis mak
Aganis that day to gif ressoun and tak
Na quod the wolff thou wald intruse ressoun
Quhair wrang and reif suld duell in propertie
That is ane poynt and part of fals tressoun
For to gar reuth remane with crueltie
Be Goddis woundis fals tratour thow sall de
For thy trespas and for thy fatheris als
With that anone he hint him be the hals
The selie lamb culd do na thing bot bleit
Sone wes he hedit the wolff wald do na grace
Syne drank his blude and off his flesche can eit
Quhill he wes full syne went his way on pace
Off his murther quhat sall we say allace
Wes not this reuth wes not this grit pietie
To gar this selie lamb but gilt thus de
The pure pepill this lamb may signifie
As maill men merchandis and all lauboureris
Of quhome the lyfe is half ane purgatorie
To wyn with lautie leving as efferis
The wolf betakinnis fals extortioneris
And oppressouris of pure men as we se
Be violence or craft in facultie
Thre kynd of wolfis in this warld now rings
The first ar fals perverteris of the lawis
Quhilk under poleit termis falset mingis
Lettand that all wer gospell that he schawis
Bot for ane bud the pure man he overthrawis
Smoirand the richt garrand the wrang proceid -
Of sic wolfis hellis fyre sall be thair meid
O man of law let be thy subteltie
With nice gimpis and fraudis intricait
And think that God in his divinitie
The wrang the richt of all thy werkis wait
For prayer price for hie nor law estait
Of fals querrellis se thow mak na defence
Hald with the richt hurt not thy conscience
Ane uther kynd of wolfis ravenous
Ar mychtie men haifand aneuch plentie
Quhilkis ar sa gredie and sa covetous
Thay will not thoill in peace ane pureman be
Suppois he and his houshald baith suld de
For falt of fude thairof thay gif na rak
Bot over his heid his mailling will thay tak
O man but mercie quhat is in thy thocht
War than ane wolf and thow culd understand
Thow hes aneuch the pure husband richt nocht
Bot croip and crufe upon ane clout of land
For Goddis aw how durst thow tak on hand -
And thow in barn and byre sa bene and big -
To put him fra his tak and gar him thig
The thrid wolf ar men of heritage
As lordis that hes land be Goddis lane
And settis to the mailleris ane village
And for ane tyme gressome payit and tane
Syne vexis him or half his terme be gane
With pykit querrellis for to mak him fane
To flit or pay his gressome new agane
His hors his meir he man len to the laird
To drug and draw in cairt or in cariage
His servand or his self may not be spaird
To swing and sweit withoutin meit or wage
Thus how he standis in labour and bondage
That scantlie may he purches by his maill
To leve upon dry breid and watter caill
Hes thow not reuth to gar thy tennentis sweit
In to thy laubour with faynt and hungrie wame
And syne hes lytill gude to drink or eit
With his menye at evin quhen he cummis hame
Thow suld be rad for richteous Goddis blame
For it cryis ane vengeance unto the hevinnis hie
To gar ane pure man wirk but meit or fe
O thow grit lord that riches hes and rent
Be nocht ane wolf thus to devoir the pure
Think that na thing cruell nor violent
May in this warld perpetuallie indure
This sal thow trow and sikkerlie assure
For till oppres thow sall haif als grit pane
As thow the pure with thy awin hand had slane
God keip the lamb quhilk is the innocent
From wolfis byit and men extortioneris
God grant that wrangous men of fals intent
Be manifest and punischit as effeiris
And God as thow all rychteous prayer heiris
Mot saif our king and gif him hart and hand
All sic wolfis to banes of the land
Upon ane tyme as Esope culd report
Ane lytill mous come till ane rever syde
Scho micht not waid hir schankis wer sa schort
Scho culd not swym scho had na hors to ryde
Off verray force behovit hir to byde
And to and fra besyde that revir deip
Scho ran cryand with mony pietuous peip
Help over Help over this silie mous can cry
For Goddis lufe sum bodie over the brym
With that ane paddok in the watter by
Put up hir heid and on the bank can clym
Quhilk be nature culd douk and gaylie swym
With voce full rauk scho said on this maneir
Gude morne schir Mous Quhat is your erand heir
Seis thow quod scho off corne yone jolie flat
Off ryip aitis off barlie peis and quheit
I am hungrie and fane wald be thair at
Bot I am stoppit be this watter greit
And on this syde I get na thing till eit
Bot hard nuttis quhilkis with my teith I bore
Wer I beyond my feist wer fer the more
I have no boit heir is no maryner
And thocht thair war I have no fraucht to pay
Quod scho Sister lat be your hevie cheir
Do my counsall and I sall find the way
Withoutin hors brig boit or yit galay
To bring yow over saiflie be not afeird -
And not wetand the campis off thy beird
I haif mervell than quod the lytill mous
How can thow fleit without fedder or fin
This rever is sa deip and dangerous
Me think that thow suld droun to wed thairin
Tell me thairfoir quhat facultie or gin
Thow hes to bring the over this watter wan
That to declair the paddok thus began
With my twa feit quod scho lukkin and braid
In steid off airis I row the streme full styll
And thocht the brym be perrillous to waid
Baith to and fra I swyme at my awin will
I may not droun for quhy my oppin gill
Devoidis ay the watter I resaiff
Thairfoir to droun forsuith na dreid I haif
The mous beheld unto hir fronsit face
Hir runkillit cheikis and hir lippis syde
Hir hingand browis and hir voce sa hace
Hir loggerand leggis and hir harsky hyde
Scho ran abak and on the paddok cryde
Giff I can ony skill off phisnomy
Thow hes sumpart off falset and invy
For clerkis sayis the inclinatioun
Off mannis thocht proceidis commounly
Eter the corporall complexioun
To gude or evill as nature will apply
Ane thrawart will ane thrawin phisnomy
The auld proverb is witnes off this lorum
Distortum vultum sequitur distortio morum 
Na quod the taid that proverb is not trew
For fair thingis oftymis ar fundin faikin
The blaberyis thocht thay be sad off hew
Ar gadderit up quhen primeros is forsakin
The face may faill to be the hartis takin
Thairfoir I find this scripture in all place
'Thow suld not juge ane man efter his face
Thocht I unhailsum be to luke upon
I have na wyt quhy suld I lakkit be
Wer I als fair as jolie Absolon
I am no causer off that grit beutie
This difference in forme and qualitie
Almychtie God hes causit dame Nature
To prent and set in everilk creature
Off sum the face may be full flurischand
Off silkin toung and cheir rycht amorous
With mynd inconstant fals and wariand
Full off desait and menis cautelous
Let be thy preiching quod the hungrie mous
And be quhat craft thow gar me understand
That thow wald gyde me to yone yonder land
Thow wait quod scho ane bodie that hes neid
To help thame self suld mony wayis cast
Thairfoir ga tak ane doubill twynit threid
And bind thy leg to myne with knottis fast
I sall the leir to swym - be not agast -
Als weill as I As thow than quod the mous
To preif that play it wer our perrillous
Suld I be bund and fast quhar I am fre
In hoip off help Na than I schrew us baith
For I mycht lois baith lyfe and libertie
Giff it wer swa quha suld amend the skaith
Bot gif thow sweir to me the murthour aith
But fraud or gyle to bring me over this flude
But hurt or harme In faith quod scho I dude
Scho goikit up and to the hevin can cry
O Juppiter off nature god and king
I mak ane aith trewlie to the that I
This lytill mous sall over this watter bring
This aith wes maid the mous but persaving
The fals ingyne of this foull carpand pad
Tuke threid and band hir leg as scho hir bad
Than fute for fute thay lap baith in the brym
Bot in thair myndis thay wer rycht different
The mous thocht na thing bot to fleit and swym
The paddok for to droun set hir intent
Quhen thay in midwart off the streme wer went
With all hir force the paddok preissit doun
And thocht the mous without mercie to droun
Persavand this the mous on hir can cry
Tratour to God and manesworne unto me
Thow swore the murthour aith richt now that I
But hurt or harme suld ferryit be and fre
And quhen scho saw thair wes bot do or de
Scho bowtit up and forsit hir to swym
And preissit upon the taiddis bak to clym
The dreid of deith hir strenthis gart incres
And forcit hir defend with mycht and mane
The mous upwart the paddok doun can pres
Quhyle to quhyle fra quhyle doukit up agane
This selie mous plungit in grit pane
Gan fecht als lang as breith wes in hir breist
Till at the last scho cryit for ane preist
Fechtand thusgait the gled sat on ane twist
And to this wretchit battell tuke gude heid
And with ane wisk or owthir off thame wist
He claucht his cluke betuix thame in the threid
Syne to the land he flew with thame gude speid
Fane off that fang pyipand with mony pew
Syne lowsit thame and baith but pietie slew
Syne bowellit thame that boucheour with his bill
And bellieflaucht full fettislie thame fled
Bot all thair flesche wald scant be half ane fill
And guttis als unto that gredie gled
Off thair debait thus quhen I hard outred
He tuke his flicht and over the feildis flaw
Giff this be trew speir ye at thame that saw
My brother gif thow will tak advertence
Be this fabill thow may persave and se
It passis far all kynd of pestilence
Ane wickit mynd with wordis fair and sle
Be war thairfore with quhome thow fallowis the
To the wer better beir the stane barrow
For all thy dayis to delf quhill thow may dre
Than to be matchit with ane wickit marrow
Ane fals intent under ane fair pretence
Hes causit mony innocent for to de
Grit folie is to gif over sone credence
To all that speiks fairlie unto the
Ane silkin toung ane hart of crueltie
Smytis more sore than ony schot of arrow
Brother gif thow be wyse I reid the fle
To matche the with ane thrawart fenyeit marrow
I warne the als it is grit nekligence
To bind the fast quhair thow wes frank and fre
Fra thow be bund thow may mak na defence
To saif thy lyfe nor yit thy libertie
This simpill counsall brother tak at me
And it to cun perqueir se thow not tarrow
Better but stryfe to leif allane in le
Than to be matchit with ane wickit marrow
This hald in mynd rycht more I sall the tell
Quhair by thir beistis may be figurate
The paddok usand in the flude to duell
Is mannis bodie swymand air and lait
In to this warld with cairis implicate
Now hie now law quhylis plungit up quhylis doun
Ay in perrell and reddie for to droun
Now dolorus now blyth as bird on breir
Now in fredome now wrappit in distres
Now haill and sound now deid and brocht on beir
Now pure as Job now rowand in riches
Now gounis gay now brats laid in pres
Now full as fysche now hungrie as ane hound
Now on the quheill now wappit to the ground
This lytill mous heir knit thus be the schyn
The saull of man betakin may in deid -
Bundin and fra the bodie may not twyn
Quhill cruell deith cum brek of lyfe the threid -
The quhilk to droun suld ever stand in dreid
Of carnall lust be the suggestioun
Quhilk drawis ay the saull and druggis doun
The watter is the warld ay welterand
With mony wall of tribulatioun
In quhilk the saull and bodye wer steirrand
Standand rycht different in thair opinioun
The saull upwart the body precis doun
The saull rycht fane wald be brocht over I wis
Out of this warld into the hevinnis blis
The gled is deith that cummis suddandlie
As dois ane theif and cuttis sone the batall
Be vigilant thairfoir and ay reddie
For mannis lyfe is brukill and ay mortall
My freind thairfoir mak the ane strang castell
Of gud deidis for deith will the assay
Thow wait not quhen - evin morrow or midday
Adew my freind and gif that ony speiris
Of this fabill sa schortlie I conclude
Say thow I left the laif unto the freiris
To mak exempill or similitude
Now Christ for us that deit on the rude
Of saull and lyfe as thow art Salviour
Grant us till pas in till ane blissit hour
O worthi noble kyng Henry the ferthe
In whom the glade fortune is befalle
The poeple to governe uppon this erthe
God hath thee chose in comfort of ous alle
The worschipe of this lond which was doun falle
Now stant upriht thurgh grace of thi goodnesse
Which every man is holde forto blesse
The highe God of His justice allone
The right which longeth to thi regalie
Declared hath to stonde in thi persone
And more than God may no man justefie
Thi title is knowe uppon thin ancestrie
The londes folk hath ek thy riht affermed
So stant thi regne of God and man confermed
Ther is no man mai seie in other wise
That God himself ne hath thi riht declared
Whereof the lond is boun to thi servise
Which for defalte of help hath longe cared
Bot now ther is no mannes herte spared
To love and serve and wirche thi plesance
And al is this thurgh Godes pourveiance
In alle thing which is of God begonne
Ther folwith grace if it be wel governed
Thus tellen thei whiche olde bookes conne
Whereof my lord Y wot wel thow art lerned
Axe of thi God so schalt thou nought be werned
Of no reqweste whiche is resonable
For God unto the goode is favorable
Kyng Salomon which hadde at his axinge
Of God what thing him was levest to crave
He ches wisdom unto the governynge
Of Goddis folk the whiche he wolde save
And as he ches it fel him forto have
For thurgh his wit whil that his regne laste
He gat him pees and reste unto the laste
Bot Alisaundre as telleth his histoire
Unto the God besoghte in other weie
Of all the world to winne the victoire
So that undir his swerd it myht obeie
In werre he hadde al that he wolde preie
The myghti God behight him that beheste
The world he wan and had it of conqweste
Bot thogh it fel at thilke time so
That Alisandre his axinge hath achieved
This sinful world was al paiene tho
Was non which hath the hihe God believed
No wondir was thogh thilke world was grieved
Thogh a tiraunt his pourpos myhte winne
Al was vengance and infortune of sinne
Bot now the feith of Crist is come a place
Among the princes in this erthe hiere
It sit hem wel to do pite and grace
Bot yit it mot be tempred in manere
For as thei finden cause in the matiere
Uppon the point what aftirward betide
The lawe of riht schal noght be leid aside
So mai a kyng of werre the viage
Ordeigne and take as he therto is holde
To cleime and axe his rightful heritage
In alle places wher it is withholde
Bot other wise if God himsilve wolde
Afferme love and pes betwen the kynges
Pes is the beste above alle erthely thinges
Good is t'eschue werre and natheles
A kyng may make werre uppon his right
For of bataile the final ende is pees
Thus stant the lawe that a worthi knyght
Uppon his trouthe may go to the fight
Bot if so were that he myghte chese
Betre is the pees of which may no man lese
Sustene pes oghte every man alyve
First for to sette his liege lord in reste
And ek these othre men that thei ne stryve
For so this world mai stonden ate beste
What kyng that wolde be the worthieste
The more he myghte oure dedly werre cesse
The more he schulde his worthinesse encresse
Pes is the chief of al the worldes welthe
And to the Heven it ledeth ek the weie
Pes is of soule and lif the mannes helthe
Of pestilence and doth the werre aweie
My liege lord tak hiede of that Y seie
If werre may be left tak pes on honde
Which may noght be withoute Goddis sonde
With pes stant every creature in reste
Withoute pes ther may no lif be glad
Above alle othre good pes is the beste
Pes hath himself whan werre is al bestad
The pes is sauf the werre is ever adrad
Pes is of al charite the keie
Which hath the lif and soul forto weie
My liege lord if that thee list to seche
The sothe essamples that the werre hath wroght
Thow schalt wiel hiere of wisemennes speche
That dedly werre turneth into noght
For if these olde bokes be wel soght
Ther myght thou se what thing the werre hath do
Bothe of conqueste and conquerer also
For vein honour or for the worldes good
Thei that whilom the stronge werres made
Wher be thei now Bethenk wel in thi mod
The day is goon the nyght is derk and fade
Her crualte which mad hem thanne glade
Thei sorwen now and yit have noght the more
The blod is schad which no man mai restore
The werre is modir of the wronges alle
It sleth the prest in Holi Chirche at Masse
Forlith the maide and doth here flour to falle
The werre makth the grete citee lasse
And doth the Lawe his reules overpasse
There is no thing wherof meschef mai growe
Which is noght caused of the werre Y trowe
The werre bringth in poverte at hise hieles
Wherof the comon poeple is sore grieved
The werre hath set his cart on thilke whieles
Wher that Fortune mai noght be believed
For whan men wene best to have achieved
Ful ofte it is al newe to beginne
The werre hath no thing siker thogh he winne
Forthi my worthi prince in Cristes halve
As for a part whos feith thou hast to guide
Leie to this olde sor a newe salve
And do the werre awei what so betide
Pourchace pes and sette it be thi side
And suffre noght thi poeple be devoured
So schal thi name ever after stonde honoured
If eny man be now or ever was
Agein the pes thi preve counseillour
Lete God ben of thi counseil in this cas
And putte awei the cruel werreiour
For God which is of man the creatour
He wolde noght men slowe His creature
Withoute cause of dedly forfeture
Wher nedeth most behoveth most to loke
Mi lord how so thi werres ben withoute
Of time passed who that hiede toke
Good were at hom to se riht wel aboute
For everemor the werste is forto doute
Bot if thou myghtest parfit pes atteigne
Ther schulde be no cause forto pleigne
Aboute a kyng good counseil is to preise
Above alle othre thinges most vailable
Bot yit a kyng withinne himself schal peise
And se the thinges that ben resonable
And ther uppon he schal his wittes stable
Among the men to sette pes in evene
For love of Him which is the Kyng of Hevene
Ha wel is him that schedde never blod
Bot if it were in cause of rihtwisnesse
For if a kyng the peril undirstod
What is to sle the poeple thanne Y gesse
The dedly werres and the hevynesse
Wherof the pes distourbid is ful ofte
Schulde at som time cesse and wexe softe
O kyng fulfild of grace and of knyghthode
Remembre uppon this point for Cristes sake
If pes be profred unto thi manhode
Thin honour sauf let it noght be forsake
Though thou the werres darst wel undirtake
Aftir reson yit tempre thi corage
For lich to pes ther is non avantage
My worthi lord thenke wel how so befalle
Of thilke lore as holi bokes sein
Crist is the heved and we ben membres alle
Als wel the subgit as the sovereign
So sit it wel that charite be plein
Which unto God himselve most acordeth
So as the lore of Cristes word recordeth
In th'  Lawe er Crist Himself was bore
Among the Ten Comandementz Y rede
How that manslaghtre schulde be forbore
Such was the will that time of the Godhede
And aftirward whanne Crist tok His manhede
Pes was the ferste thing He let do crie
Agein the worldes rancour and envie
And er Crist wente out of this erthe hiere
And stigh to hevene He made His testament
Wher He beqwath to His disciples there
And gaf His pes which is the foundement
Of charite withouten whos assent
The worldes pes mai never wel be tried
Ne love kept ne lawe justefied
The Jewes with the paiens hadden werre
Bot thei among hemself stode evere in pes
Whi schulde thanne oure pes stonde oute of herre
Which Crist hath chose unto His oghne encres
For Crist is more than was Moises
And Crist hath set the parfit of the lawe
The which scholde in no wise be withdrawe
To give ous pes was cause whi Crist dide
Withoute pes may no thing stonde availed
Bot now a man mai sen on everi side
How Cristes feith is every dai assailed
With the paiens destruid and so batailed
That for defalte of help and of defence
Unethe hath Crist His dewe reverence
The righte feith to kepe of Holy Chirche
The firste point is named of knyghthode
And everi man is holde forto wirche
Uppon the point which stant to his manhode
Bot now helas the fame is sprad so broode
That everi worthi man this thing compleigneth
And yit ther is no man which help ordeigneth
The worldes cause is waited overal
Ther ben the werres redi to the fulle
Bot Cristes oghne cause in special
Ther ben the swerdes and the speres dulle
And with the sentence of the popes bulle
As forto do the folk paien obeie
The chirche is turned al an other weie
It is to wondre above a mannys wit
Withoute werre how Cristes feith was wonne
And we that ben uppon this erthe yit
Ne kepe it noght as it was first begonne
To every creature undir the sonne
Crist bad Himself how that we schulden preche
And to the folk His evangile teche
More light it is to kepe than to make
Bot that we founden mad tofore the hond
We kepe noght bot lete it lightly slake
The pes of Crist hath altobroke his bond
We reste ourselve and soeffrin every lond
To slen ech other as thing undefendid
To stant the werre and pes is noght amendid
Bot thogh the Heved of Holy Chirche above
Ne do noght al His hole businesse
Among the men to sette pes and love
These kynges oughten of here rightwisnesse
Here oghne cause among hemself redresce
Thogh Petres schip as now hath lost his stiere
It lith in hem that barge forto stiere
If Holy Cherche after the duete
Of Cristes word ne be noght al avysed
To make pes acord and unite
Among the kinges that ben now devised
Yit natheles the lawe stant assised
Of mannys wit to be so resonable
Withoute that to stonde hemselve stable
Of Holy Chirche we ben children alle
And every child is holden forto bowe
Unto the modir how that ever it falle
Or elles he mot reson desalowe
And for that cause a knyght schal ferst avowe
The right of Holi Chirche to defende
That no man schal the previlege offende
Thus were it good to setten al in evene
The worldes princes and the prelatz bothe
For love of Him which is the King of Hevene
And if men scholde algate wexe wrothe
The Sarazins whiche unto Crist be lothe
Let men ben armed agein hem to fighte
So mai the knyht his dede of armes righte
Uppon thre pointz stant Cristes pes oppressed
Ferst Holy Cherche is in hersilf divided
Which oughte of reson first to be redresced
Bot yit so highe a cause is noght decided
And thus whan humble pacience is prided
The remenant which that thei schulden reule
No wondir is though it stonde out of reule
Of that the heved is siek the limes aken
These regnes that to Cristes pes belongen
For worldes good these dedly werres maken
Whiche helpples as in balance hongen
The heved above hem hath noght undirfongen
To sette pes bot every man sleth other
And in this wise hath charite no brother
The two defaltes bringen in the thridde
Of mescreantz that sen how we debate
Betwene the two thei fallen in amidde
Wher now aldai thei finde an open gate
Lo thus the dedly werre stant algate
Bot evere Y hope of Kyng Henries grace
That he it is which schal the pes embrace
My worthi noble prince and kyng enoignt
Whom God hath of His grace so preserved
Beholde and se the world uppon this point
As for thi part that Cristes pes be served
So schal thin highe mede be deserved
To Him which al schal qwiten ate laste
For this lif hiere mai no while laste
See Alisandre Ector and Julius
See Machabeu David and Josue
See Charlemeine Godefroi Arthus
Fulfild of werre and of mortalite
Here fame abit bot al is vanite
For deth which hath the werres under fote
Hath mad an ende of which ther is no bote
So mai a man the sothe wite and knowe
That pes is good for every king to have
The fortune of the werre is evere unknowe
Bot wher pes is ther ben the marches save
That now is up to morwe is under grave
The mighti God hath alle grace in honde
Withouten Him pes mai nought longe stonde
Of the tenetz to winne or lese a chace
Mai no lif wite er that the bal be ronne
Al stant in God what thing men schal pourchace
Thende is in him er that it be begonne
Men sein the wolle whanne it is wel sponne
Doth that the cloth is strong and profitable
And elles it mai never be durable
The worldes chaunces uppon aventure
Ben evere sett bot thilke chaunce of pes
Is so behoveli to the creature
That it above alle othre is piereles
Bot it mai noght be gete natheles
Among the men to lasten eny while
Bot wher the herte is plein withoute guyle
The pes is as it were a sacrement
Tofore the God and schal with wordes pleine
Withouten eny double entendement
Be treted for the trouthe can noght feine
Bot if the men withinne hemself be veine
The substance of the pes may noght be trewe
Bot every dai it chaungeth uppon newe
Bot who that is of charite parfit
He voideth alle sleightes ferr aweie
And sett his word uppon the same plit
Wher that his herte hath founde a siker weie
And thus whan conscience is trewly weie
And that the pes be handlid with the wise
It schal abide and stonde in alle wise
Th'apostle seith ther mai no lif be good
Which is noght grounded uppon charite
For charite ne schedde nevere blod
So hath the werre as ther no proprite
For thilke vertu which is seid pite
With charite so ferforth is aqweinted
That in here may no fals semblant be peinted
Cassodre whos writinge is auctorized
Seith wher that pite regneth ther is grace
Thurgh which the pes hath al his welthe assised
So that of werre he dredeth no manace
Wher pite dwelleth in the same place
Ther mai no dedly cruelte sojorne
Wherof that merci schulde his wei torne
To se what pite forth with mercy doth
The croniqe is at Rome in thilke empire
Of Constantin which is a tale soth
Whan him was levere his oghne deth desire
Than do the yonge children to martire
Of crualte he lafte the querele
Pite he wroghte and pite was his hele
For thilke mannes pite which he dede
God was pitous and mad him hol at al
Silvestre cam and in the same stede
Gaf him baptisme first in special
Which dide awai the sinne original
And al his lepre it hath so purified
That his pite forever is magnified
Pite was cause whi this emperour
Was hol in bodi and in soule bothe
And Rome also was set in thilke honour
Of Cristes feith so that the lieve of lothe
Whiche hadden be with Crist tofore wrothe
Resceived were unto Cristes lore
Thus schal pite be preised evermore
My worthi liege lord Henri be name
Which Engelond hast to governe and righte
Men oghten wel thi pite to proclame
Which openliche in al the worldes sighte
Is schewed with the help of God almighte
To give ous pes which longe hath be debated
Wherof thi pris schal nevere ben abated
My lord in whom hath ever yit be founde
Pite withoute spot of violence
Kep thilke pes alwei withinne bounde
Which God hath planted in thi conscience
So schal the cronique of thi pacience
Among the seintz be take into memoire
To the loenge of perdurable gloire
And to thin erthli pris so as Y can
Which everi man is holde to commende
I Gower which am al thi liege man
This lettre unto thin excellence Y sende
As Y which evere unto my lives ende
Wol praie for the stat of thi persone
In worschipe of thi sceptre and of thi throne
Noght only to my king of pes Y write
Bot to these othre princes Cristene alle
That ech of hem his oghne herte endite
And see the werre er mor meschief falle
Sette ek the rightful pope uppon his stalle
Kep charite and draugh pite to honde
Maintene lawe and so the pes schal stonde
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 as I wryte
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
But ye loveres that bathen in gladnesse
If any drope of pitee in yow be
Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse
That ye han felt and on the adversitee
Of othere folk and thenketh how that ye
Han felt that Love dorste yow displese
Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an ese
And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas
Of Troilus as ye may after here
That love hem bringe in hevene to solas
And eek for me preyeth to god so dere
That I have might to shewe in som manere
Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure
In Troilus unsely aventure
And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred
In love that never nil recovered be
And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred
Thorugh wikked tonges be it he or she
Thus biddeth god for his benignitee
So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace
That been despeyred out of Loves grace
And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese
That god hem graunte ay good perseveraunce
And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese
That it to Love be worship and plesaunce
For so hope I my soule best avaunce
To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be
And wryte hir wo and live in charitee
And for to have of hem compassioun
As though I were hir owene brother dere
Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun
For now wol I gon streight to my matere
In whiche ye may the double sorwes here
Of Troilus in loving of Criseyde
And how that she forsook him er she deyde
It is wel wist how that the Grekes stronge
In armes with a thousand shippes wente
To Troyewardes and the citee longe
Assegeden neigh ten yeer er they stente
And in diverse wyse and oon entente
The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne
By Paris doon they wroughten al hir peyne
Now fil it so that in the toun ther was
Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee
A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas
That in science so expert was that he
Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be
By answere of his god that highte thus
Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus
So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge
And eek by answere of this Appollo
That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe
Thorugh which that Troye moste been for-do
He caste anoon out of the toun to go
For wel wiste he by sort that Troye sholde
Destroyed ben ye wolde who-so nolde
For which for to departen softely
Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse
And to the Grekes ost ful prively
He stal anoon and they in curteys wyse
Hym deden bothe worship and servyse
In trust that he hath conning hem to rede
In every peril which that is to drede
The noyse up roos whan it was first aspyed
Thorugh al the toun and generally was spoken
That Calkas traytor fled was and allyed
With hem of Grece and casten to ben wroken
On him that falsly hadde his feith so broken
And seyden he and al his kin at ones
Ben worthy for to brennen fel and bones
Now hadde Calkas left in this meschaunce
Al unwist of this false and wikked dede
His doughter which that was in gret penaunce
For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede
As she that niste what was best to rede
For bothe a widowe was she and allone
Of any freend to whom she dorste hir mone
Criseyde was this lady name a-right
As to my dome in al Troyes citee
Nas noon so fair for passing every wight
So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee
That lyk a thing immortal semed she
As doth an hevenish parfit creature
That doun were sent in scorning of nature
This lady which that al-day herde at ere
Hir fadres shame his falsnesse and tresoun
Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere
In widewes habit large of samit broun
On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun
With pitous voys and tendrely wepinge
His mercy bad hir-selven excusinge
Now was this Ector pitous of nature
And saw that she was sorwfully bigoon
And that she was so fair a creature
Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon
And seyde 'Lat your fadres treson goon
Forth with mischaunce and ye your-self in Ioye
Dwelleth with us whyl you good list in Troye
'And al thonour that men may doon yow have
As ferforth as your fader dwelled here
Ye shul han and your body shal men save
As fer as I may ought enquere or here
And she him thonked with ful humble chere
And ofter wolde and it hadde ben his wille
And took hir leve and hoom and held hir stille
And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee
As to hir honour nede was to holde
And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee
Kepte hir estat and bothe of yonge and olde
Ful wel beloved and wel men of hir tolde
But whether that she children hadde or noon
I rede it naught therfore I late it goon
The thinges fellen as they doon of werre
Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte
For som day boughten they of Troye it derre
And eft the Grekes founden no thing softe
The folk of Troye and thus fortune on-lofte
And under eft gan hem to wheelen bothe
After hir cours ay whyl they were wrothe
But how this toun com to destruccioun
Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle
For it were a long digressioun
Fro my matere and yow to longe dwelle
But the Troyane gestes as they felle
In Omer or in Dares or in Dyte
Who-so that can may rede hem as they wryte
But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten
And hir citee bisegede al a-boute
Hir olde usage wolde they not letten
As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute
But aldermost in honour out of doute
They hadde a relik hight Palladion
That was hir trist a-boven everichon
And so bifel whan comen was the tyme
Of Aperil whan clothed is the mede
With newe grene of lusty Ver the pryme
And swote smellen floures whyte and rede
In sondry wyses shewed as I rede
The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde
Palladiones feste for to holde
And to the temple in al hir beste wyse
In general ther wente many a wight
To herknen of Palladion servyse
And namely so many a lusty knight
So many a lady fresh and mayden bright
Ful wel arayed bothe moste and leste
Ye bothe for the seson and the feste
Among thise othere folk was Criseyda
In widewes habite blak but nathelees
Right as our firste lettre is now an A
In beautee first so stood she makelees
Hir godly looking gladede al the prees
Nas never seyn thing to ben preysed derre
Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre
As was Criseyde as folk seyde everichoon
That hir behelden in hir blake wede
And yet she stood ful lowe and stille alloon
Bihinden othere folk in litel brede
And neigh the dore ay under shames drede
Simple of a-tyr and debonaire of chere
With ful assured loking and manere
This Troilus as he was wont to gyde
His yonge knightes ladde hem up and doun
In thilke large temple on every syde
Biholding ay the ladyes of the toun
Now here now there for no devocioun
Hadde he to noon to reven him his reste
But gan to preyse and lakken whom him leste
And in his walk ful fast he gan to wayten
If knight or squyer of his companye
Gan for to syke or lete his eyen bayten
On any woman that he coude aspye
He wolde smyle and holden it folye
And seye him thus 'god wot she slepeth softe
For love of thee whan thou tornest ful ofte
'I have herd told pardieux of your livinge
Ye lovers and your lewede observaunces
And which a labour folk han in winninge
Of love and in the keping which doutaunces
And whan your preye is lost wo and penaunces
O verrey foles nyce and blinde be ye
Ther nis not oon can war by other be
And with that word he gan cast up the browe
Ascaunces 'Lo is this nought wysly spoken
At which the god of love gan loken rowe
Right for despyt and shoop for to ben wroken
He kidde anoon his bowe nas not broken
For sodeynly he hit him at the fulle
And yet as proud a pekok can he pulle
O blinde world O blinde entencioun
How ofte falleth al theffect contraire
Of surquidrye and foul presumpcioun
For caught is proud and caught is debonaire
This Troilus is clomben on the staire
And litel weneth that he moot descenden
But al-day falleth thing that foles ne wenden
As proude Bayard ginneth for to skippe
Out of the wey so priketh him his corn
Til he a lash have of the longe whippe
Than thenketh he 'Though I praunce al biforn
First in the trays ful fat and newe shorn
Yet am I but an hors and horses lawe
I moot endure and with my feres drawe
So ferde it by this fers and proude knight
Though he a worthy kinges sone were
And wende nothing hadde had swiche might
Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere
Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere
That he that now was most in pryde above
Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love
For-thy ensample taketh of this man
Ye wyse proude and worthy folkes alle
To scornen Love which that so sone can
The freedom of your hertes to him thralle
For ever it was and ever it shal bifalle
That Love is he that alle thing may binde
For may no man for-do the lawe of kinde
That this be sooth hath preved and doth yet
For this trowe I ye knowen alle or some
Men reden not that folk han gretter wit
Than they that han be most with love y-nome
And strengest folk ben therwith overcome
The worthiest and grettest of degree
This was and is and yet men shal it see
And trewelich it sit wel to be so
For alderwysest han ther-with ben plesed
And they that han ben aldermost in wo
With love han ben conforted most and esed
And ofte it hath the cruel herte apesed
And worthy folk maad worthier of name
And causeth most to dreden vyce and shame
Now sith it may not goodly be withstonde
And is a thing so vertuous in kinde
Refuseth not to Love for to be bonde
Sin as him-selven list he may yow binde
The yerde is bet that bowen wole and winde
Than that that brest and therfor I yow rede
To folwen him that so wel can yow lede
But for to tellen forth in special
As of this kinges sone of which I tolde
And leten other thing collateral
Of him thenke I my tale for to holde
Both of his Ioye and of his cares colde
And al his werk as touching this matere
For I it gan I wol ther-to refere
With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge
This Troilus of every wight aboute
On this lady and now on that lokinge
Wher-so she were of toune or of with-oute
And up-on cas bifel that thorugh a route
His eye perced and so depe it wente
Til on Criseyde it smoot and ther it stente
And sodeynly he wax ther-with astoned
And gan hire bet biholde in thrifty wyse
'O mercy god' thoughte he 'wher hastow woned
That art so fair and goodly to devyse
Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse
And softe sighed lest men mighte him here
And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere
She nas nat with the leste of hir stature
But alle hir limes so wel answeringe
Weren to womanhode that creature
Was neuer lasse mannish in seminge
And eek the pure wyse of here meninge
Shewede wel that men might in hir gesse
Honour estat and wommanly noblesse
To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle
Gan for to lyke hir meninge and hir chere
Which somdel deynous was for she leet falle
Hir look a lite a-side in swich manere
Ascaunces 'What May I not stonden here
And after that hir loking gan she lighte
That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte
And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken
So greet desir and swich affeccioun
That in his herte botme gan to stiken
Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun
And though he erst hadde poured up and doun
He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke
Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke
Lo he that leet him-selven so konninge
And scorned hem that loves peynes dryen
Was ful unwar that love hadde his dwellinge
With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen
That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen
Right with hir look the spirit in his herte
Blissed be love that thus can folk converte
She this in blak likinge to Troylus
Over alle thyng he stood for to biholde
Ne his desir ne wherfor he stood thus
He neither chere made ne worde tolde
But from a-fer his maner for to holde
On other thing his look som-tyme he caste
And eft on hir whyl that servyse laste
And after this not fulliche al awhaped
Out of the temple al esiliche he wente
Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-iaped
Of loves folk lest fully the descente
Of scorn fille on him-self but what he mente
Lest it were wist on any maner syde
His wo he gan dissimulen and hyde
Whan he was fro the temple thus departed
He streyght anoon un-to his paleys torneth
Right with hir look thurgh-shoten and thurgh-darted
Al feyneth he in lust that he soiorneth
And al his chere and speche also he borneth
And ay of loves servants every whyle
Him-self to wrye at hem he gan to smyle
And seyde 'Lord so ye live al in lest
Ye loveres For the conningest of yow
That serveth most ententiflich and best
Him tit as often harm ther-of as prow
Your hyre is quit ayein ye god wot how
Nought wel for wel but scorn for good servyse
In feith your ordre is ruled in good wyse
'In noun-certeyn ben alle your observaunces
But it a sely fewe poyntes be
Ne no-thing asketh so grete attendaunces
As doth youre lay and that knowe alle ye
But that is not the worste as mote I thee
But tolde I yow the worste poynt I leve
Al seyde I sooth ye wolden at me greve
'But tak this that ye loveres ofte eschuwe
Or elles doon of good entencioun
Ful ofte thy lady wole it misconstrue
And deme it harm in hir opinioun
And yet if she for other enchesoun
Be wrooth than shalt thou han a groyn anoon
Lord wel is him that may be of yow oon
But for al this whan that he say his tyme
He held his pees non other bote him gayned
For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme
That wel unnethe un-to his folk he fayned
That othere besye nedes him destrayned
For wo was him that what to doon he niste
But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste
And whan that he in chaumbre was allone
He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette
And first be gan to syke and eft to grone
And thoughte ay on hir so with-outen lette
That as he sat and wook his spirit mette
That he hir saw a temple and al the wyse
Right of hir loke and gan it newe avyse
Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde
In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure
And that he wel coude in his herte finde
It was to him a right good aventure
To love swich oon and if he dide his cure
To serven hir yet mighte he falle in grace
Or elles for oon of hir servaunts pace
Imagininge that travaille nor grame
Ne mighte for so goodly oon be lorn
As she ne him for his desir ne shame
Al were it wist but in prys and up-born
Of alle lovers wel more than biforn
Thus argumented he in his ginninge
Ful unavysed of his wo cominge
Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe
And thoughte he wolde werken prively
First to hyden his desir in muwe
From every wight y-born al-outrely
But he mighte ought recovered be therby
Remembring him that love to wyde y-blowe
Yelt bittre fruyt though swete seed be sowe
And over al this yet muchel more he thoughte
What for to speke and what to holden inne
And what to arten hir to love he soughte
And on a song anoon-right to biginne
And gan loude on his sorwe for to winne
For with good hope he gan fully assente
Criseyde for to love and nought repente
And of his song nought only the sentence
As writ myn autour called Lollius
But pleynly save our tonges difference
I dar wel sayn in al that Troilus
Seyde in his song lo every word right thus
As I shal seyn and who-so list it here
Lo next this vers he may it finden here
'If no love is O god what fele I so
And if love is what thing and whiche is he
If love be good from whennes comth my wo
If it be wikke a wonder thinketh me
Whenne every torment and adversitee
That cometh of him may to me savory thinke
For ay thurst I the more that I it drinke
'And if that at myn owene lust I brenne
Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my pleynte
If harme agree me wher-to pleyne I thenne
I noot ne why unwery that I feynte
O quike deeth O swete harm so queynte
How may of thee in me swich quantitee
But-if that I consente that it be
'And if that I consente I wrongfully
Compleyne y-wis thus possed to and fro
Al sterelees with inne a boot am I
A-mid the see by-twixen windes two
That in contrarie stonden ever-mo
Allas what is this wonder maladye
For hete of cold for cold of hete I deye
And to the god of love thus seyde he
With pitous voys 'O lord now youres is
My spirit which that oughte youres be
Yow thanke I lord that han me brought to this
But whether goddesse or womman y-wis
She be I noot which that ye do me serve
But as hir man I wole ay live and sterve
'Ye stonden in hire eyen mightily
As in a place un-to youre vertu digne
Wherfore lord if my servyse or I
May lyke yow so beth to me benigne
For myn estat royal here I resigne
In-to hir hond and with ful humble chere
Bicome hir man as to my lady dere
In him ne deyned sparen blood royal
The fyr of love wher-fro god me blesse
Ne him forbar in no degree for al
His vertu or his excellent prowesse
But held him as his thral lowe in distresse
And brende him so in sondry wyse ay newe
That sixty tyme a day he loste his hewe
So muche day by day his owene thought
For lust to hir gan quiken and encrese
That every other charge he sette at nought
For-thy ful ofte his hote fyr to cese
To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese
For ther-by to ben esed wel he wende
And ay the ner he was the more he brende
For ay the ner the fyr the hotter is
This trowe I knoweth al this companye
But were he fer or neer I dar seye this
By night or day for wisdom or folye
His herte which that is his brestes ye
Was ay on hir that fairer was to sene
Than ever were Eleyne or Polixene
Eek of the day ther passed nought an houre
That to him-self a thousand tyme he seyde
'Good goodly to whom serve I and laboure
As I best can now wolde god Criseyde
Ye wolden on me rewe er that I deyde
My dere herte allas myn hele and hewe
And lyf is lost but ye wole on me rewe
Alle othere dredes weren from him fledde
Both of the assege and his savacioun
Ne in him desyr noon othere fownes bredde
But argumentes to his conclusioun
That she on him wolde han compassioun
And he to be hir man whyl he may dure
Lo here his lyf and from the deeth his cure
The sharpe shoures felle of armes preve
That Ector or his othere bretheren diden
Ne made him only ther-fore ones meve
And yet was he wher-so men wente or riden
Founde oon the beste and lengest tyme abiden
Ther peril was and dide eek such travayle
In armes that to thenke it was mervayle
But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde
Ne also for the rescous of the toun
Ne made him thus in armes for to madde
But only lo for this conclusioun
To lyken hir the bet for his renoun
Fro day to day in armes so he spedde
That alle the Grekes as the deeth him dredde
And fro this forth tho refte him love his sleep
And made his mete his foo and eek his sorwe
Gan multiplye that who-so toke keep
It shewed in his hewe bothe eve and morwe
Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe
Of other syknesse lest of him men wende
That the hote fyr of love him brende
And seyde he hadde a fever and ferde amis
But how it was certayn can I not seye
If that his lady understood not this
Or feyned hir she niste oon of the tweye
But wel I rede that by no maner weye
Ne semed it as that she of him roughte
Nor of his peyne or what-so-ever he thoughte
But than fel to this Troylus such wo
That he was wel neigh wood for ay his drede
Was this that she som wight had loved so
That never of him she wolde have taken hede
For whiche him thoughte he felte his herte blede
Ne of his wo ne dorste he not biginne
To tellen it for al this world to winne
But whanne he hadde a space fro his care
Thus to him-self ful ofte he gan to pleyne
He sayde 'O fool now art thou in the snare
That whilom Iapedest at loves peyne
Now artow hent now gnaw thyn owene cheyne
Thou were ay wont eche lovere reprehende
Of thing fro which thou canst thee nat defende
'What wol now every lover seyn of thee
If this be wist but ever in thyn absence
Laughen in scorn and seyn 'Lo ther gooth he
That is the man of so gret sapience
That held us lovers leest in reverence
Now thonked be god he may goon in the daunce
Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce
'But O thou woful Troilus god wolde
Sin thou most loven thurgh thi destinee
That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde
Knowe al thy wo al lakkede hir pitee
But al so cold in love towardes thee
Thy lady is as frost in winter mone
And thou fordoon as snow in fyr is sone
'God wolde I were aryved in the port
Of deth to which my sorwe wil me lede
A lord to me it were a gret comfort
Than were I quit of languisshing in drede
For by myn hidde sorwe y-blowe on brede
I shal bi-Iaped been a thousand tyme
More than that fool of whos folye men ryme
'But now help god and ye swete for whom
I pleyne y-caught ye never wight so faste
O mercy dere herte and help me from
The deeth for I whyl that my lyf may laste
More than my-self wol love yow to my laste
And with som freendly look gladeth me swete
Though never more thing ye me bi-hete
This wordes and ful manye an-other to
He spak and called ever in his compleynte
Hir name for to tellen hir his wo
Til neigh that he in salte teres dreynte
Al was for nought she herde nought his pleynte
And whan that he bithoughte on that folye
A thousand fold his wo gan multiplye
Bi-wayling in his chambre thus allone
A freend of his that called was Pandare
Com ones in unwar and herde him grone
And say his freend in swich distresse and care
'Allas' quod he 'who causeth al this fare
O mercy god What unhap may this mene
Han now thus sone Grekes maad yow lene
'Or hastow som remors of conscience
And art now falle in som devocioun
And waylest for thy sinne and thyn offence
And hast for ferde caught attricioun
God save hem that bi-seged han our toun
And so can leye our Iolyte on presse
And bring our lusty folk to holinesse
These wordes seyde he for the nones alle
That with swich thing he mighte him angry maken
And with an angre don his sorwe falle
As for the tyme and his corage awaken
But wel he wist as fer as tonges spaken
Ther nas a man of gretter hardinesse
Than he ne more desired worthinesse
'What cas' quod Troilus 'or what aventure
Hath gyded thee to see my languisshinge
That am refus of euery creature
But for the love of god at my preyinge
Go henne a-way for certes my deyinge
Wol thee disese and I mot nedes deye
Ther-for go wey ther is no more to seye
'But if thou wene I be thus sik for drede
It is not so and ther-for scorne nought
Ther is a-nother thing I take of hede
Wel more than ought the Grekes han y-wrought
Which cause is of my deeth for sorwe and thought
But though that I now telle thee it ne leste
Be thou nought wrooth I hyde it for the beste
This Pandare that neigh malt for wo and routhe
Ful often seyde 'Allas what may this be
Now freend' quod he 'if ever love or trouthe
Hath been or is bi-twixen thee and me
Ne do thou never swiche a crueltee
To hyde fro thy freend so greet a care
Wostow nought wel that it am I Pandare
'I wole parten with thee al thy peyne
If it be so I do thee no comfort
As it is freendes right sooth for to seyne
To entreparten wo as glad desport
I have and shal for trewe or fals report
In wrong and right y-loved thee al my lyve
Hyd not thy wo fro me but telle it blyve
Than gan this sorwful Troilus to syke
And seyde him thus God leve it be my beste
To telle it thee for sith it may thee lyke
Yet wole I telle it though myn herte breste
And wel wot I thou mayst do me no reste
But lest thow deme I truste not to thee
Now herkne freend for thus it stant with me
'Love a-yeins the which who-so defendeth
Him-selven most him alder-lest avayleth
With disespeir so sorwfully me offendeth
That streyght un-to the deeth myn herte sayleth
Ther-to desyr so brenningly me assaylleth
That to ben slayn it were a gretter Ioye
To me than king of Grece been and Troye
'Suffiseth this my fulle freend Pandare
That I have seyd for now wostow my wo
And for the love of god my colde care
So hyd it wel I telle it never to mo
For harmes mighte folwen mo than two
If it were wist but be thou in gladnesse
And lat me sterve unknowe of my distresse
'How hastow thus unkindely and longe
Hid this fro me thou fool' quod Pandarus
'Paraunter thou might after swich oon longe
That myn avys anoon may helpen us
'This were a wonder thing' quod Troylus
'Thou coudest never in love thy-selven wisse
How devel maystow bringen me to blisse
'Ye Troilus now herke' quod Pandare
'Though I be nyce it happeth ofte so
That oon that exces doth ful yvele fare
By good counseyl can kepe his freend ther-fro
I have my-self eek seyn a blind man go
Ther-as he fel that coude loke wyde
A fool may eek a wys man ofte gyde
'A whetston is no kerving instrument
And yet it maketh sharpe kerving-tolis
And ther thou woost that I have ought miswent
Eschewe thou that for swich thing to thee scole is
Thus ofte wyse men ben war by folis
If thou do so thy wit is wel biwared
By his contrarie is every thing declared
'For how might ever sweetnesse have be knowe
To him that never tasted bitternesse
Ne no man may be inly glad I trowe
That never was in sorwe or som distresse
Eek whyt by blak by shame eek worthinesse
Ech set by other more for other semeth
As men may see and so the wyse it demeth
'Sith thus of two contraries is a lore
I that have in love so ofte assayed
Grevaunces oughte conne and wel the more
Counsayllen thee of that thou art amayed
Eek thee ne oughte nat ben yvel apayed
Though I desyre with thee for to bere
Thyn hevy charge it shal the lasse dere
'I woot wel that it fareth thus by me
As to thy brother Parys an herdesse
Which that y-cleped was Oenone
Wrot in a compleynte of hir hevinesse
Ye say the lettre that she wroot y gesse
'Nay never yet y-wis' quod Troilus
'Now' quod Pandare 'herkneth it was thus  
Phebus that first fond art of medicyne
Quod she 'and coude in every wightes care
Remede and reed by herbes he knew fyne
Yet to him-self his conning was ful bare
For love hadde him so bounden in a snare
Al for the doughter of the kinge Admete
That al his craft ne coude his sorwe bete  
'Right so fare I unhappily for me
I love oon best and that me smerteth sore
And yet paraunter can I rede thee
And not my-self repreve me no more
I have no cause I woot wel for to sore
As doth an hauk that listeth for to pleye
But to thyn help yet somwhat can I seye
'And of o thing right siker maystow be
That certayn for to deyen in the peyne
That I shal never-mo discoveren thee
Ne by my trouthe I kepe nat restreyne
Thee fro thy love thogh that it were Eleyne
That is thy brotheres wif if ich it wiste
Be what she be and love hir as thee liste
'Therfore as freend fullich in me assure
And tel me plat what is thyn enchesoun
And final cause of wo that ye endure
For douteth no-thing myn entencioun
Nis nought to yow of reprehencioun
To speke as now for no wight may bireve
A man to love til that him list to leve
'And witeth wel that bothe two ben vyces
Mistrusten alle or elles alle leve
But wel I woot the mene of it no vyce is
For to trusten sum wight is a preve
Of trouthe and for-thy wolde I fayn remeve
Thy wrong conseyte and do thee som wight triste
Thy wo to telle and tel me if thee liste
'The wyse seyth Wo him that is allone
For and he falle he hath noon help to ryse
And sith thou hast a felawe tel thy mone
For this nis not certeyn the nexte wyse
To winnen love as techen us the wyse
To walwe and wepe as Niobe the quene
Whos teres yet in marbel been y-sene
'Lat be thy weping and thi drerinesse
And lat us lissen wo with other speche
So may thy woful tyme seme lesse
Delyte not in wo thy wo to seche
As doon thise foles that hir sorwes eche
With sorwe whan they han misaventure
And listen nought to seche hem other cure
'Men seyn To wrecche is consolacioun
To have an-other felawe in his peyne
That oughte wel ben our opinioun
For bothe thou and I of love we pleyne
So ful of sorwe am I soth for to seyne
That certeynly no more harde grace
May sitte on me for-why ther is no space
'If god wole thou art not agast of me
Lest I wolde of thy lady thee bigyle
Thow wost thy-self whom that I love pardee
As I best can gon sithen longe whyle
And sith thou wost I do it for no wyle
And sith I am he that thou tristest most
Tel me sumwhat sin al my wo thou wost
Yet Troilus for al this no word seyde
But longe he ley as stille as he ded were
And after this with sykinge he abreyde
And to Pandarus voys he lente his ere
And up his eyen caste he that in fere
Was Pandarus lest that in frenesye
He sholde falle or elles sone dye
And cryde 'A-wake' ful wonderly and sharpe
'What Slombrestow as in a lytargye
Or artow lyk an asse to the harpe
That hereth soun whan men the strenges plye
But in his minde of that no melodye
May sinken him to glade for that he
So dul is of his bestialitee
And with that Pandare of his wordes stente
And Troilus yet him no word answerde
For-why to telle nas not his entente
To never no man for whom that he so ferde
For it is seyd 'Man maketh ofte a yerde
With which the maker is him-self y-beten
In sondry maner' as thise wyse treten
And namely in his counseyl tellinge
That toucheth love that oughte be secree
For of him-self it wolde y-nough out-springe
But-if that it the bet governed be
Eek som-tyme it is craft to seme flee
Fro thing which in effect men hunte faste
Al this gan Troilus in his herte caste
But nathelees whan he had herd him crye
'Awake' he gan to syke wonder sore
And seyde 'Freend though that I stille lye
I am not deef now pees and cry no more
For I have herd thy wordes and thy lore
But suffre me my mischef to biwayle
For thy proverbes may me nought avayle
'Nor other cure canstow noon for me
Eek I nil not be cured I wol deye
What knowe I of the quene Niobe
Lat be thyne olde ensaumples I thee preye
'No' quod tho Pandarus 'therfore I seye
Swich is delyt of foles to biwepe
Hir wo but seken bote they ne kepe
'Now knowe I that ther reson in the fayleth
But tel me if I wiste what she were
For whom that thee al this misaunter ayleth
Dorstestow that I tolde hir in hir ere
Thy wo sith thou darst not thy-self for fere
And hir bisoughte on thee to han som routhe
'Why nay' quod he 'by god and by my trouthe
'What Not as bisily' quod Pandarus
'As though myn owene lyf lay on this nede
'No certes brother' quod this Troilus
'And why'   'For that thou sholdest never spede
'Wostow that wel'   'Ye that is out of drede
Quod Troilus 'for al that ever ye conne
She nil to noon swich wrecche as I be wonne
Quod Pandarus 'Allas What may this be
That thou dispeyred art thus causelees
What Liveth not thy lady Benedicite
How wostow so that thou art gracelees
Swich yvel is nat alwey botelees
Why put not impossible thus thy cure
Sin thing to come is ofte in aventure
'I graunte wel that thou endurest wo
As sharp as doth he Ticius in helle
Whos stomak foules tyren ever-mo
That highte volturis as bokes telle
But I may not endure that thou dwelle
In so unskilful an opinioun
That of thy wo is no curacioun
'But ones niltow for thy coward herte
And for thyn ire and folish wilfulnesse
For wantrust tellen of thy sorwes smerte
Ne to thyn owene help do bisinesse
As muche as speke a resoun more or lesse
But lyest as he that list of no-thing recche
What womman coude love swich a wrecche
'What may she demen other of thy deeth
If thou thus deye and she not why it is
But that for fere is yolden up thy breeth
For Grekes han biseged us y-wis
Lord which a thank than shaltow han of this
Thus wol she seyn and al the toun at ones
The wrecche is deed the devel have his bones
'Thou mayst allone here wepe and crye and knele
But love a woman that she woot it nought
And she wol quyte that thou shalt not fele
Unknowe unkist and lost that is un-sought
What Many a man hath love ful dere y-bought
Twenty winter that his lady wiste
That never yet his lady mouth he kiste
'What Shulde be therfor fallen in despeyr
Or be recreaunt for his owene tene
Or sleen him-self al be his lady fayr
Nay nay but ever in oon be fresh and grene
To serve and love his dere hertes quene
And thenke it is a guerdoun hir to serve
A thousand-fold more than he can deserve
Of that word took hede Troilus
And thoughte anoon what folye he was inne
And how that sooth him seyde Pandarus
That for to sleen him-self mighte he not winne
But bothe doon unmanhod and a sinne
And of his deeth his lady nought to wyte
For of his wo god woot she knew ful lyte
And with that thought he gan ful sore syke
And seyde 'Allas What is me best to do
To whom Pandare answered 'If thee lyke
The best is that thou telle me thy wo
And have my trouthe but thou it finde so
I be thy bote or that it be ful longe
To peces do me drawe and sithen honge
'Ye so thou seyst' quod Troilus tho 'allas
But god wot it is not the rather so
Ful hard were it to helpen in this cas
For wel finde I that Fortune is my fo
Ne alle the men that ryden conne or go
May of hir cruel wheel the harm withstonde
For as hir list she pleyeth with free and bonde
Quod Pandarus 'Than blamestow Fortune
For thou art wrooth ye now at erst I see
Wostow nat wel that Fortune is commune
To every maner wight in som degree
And yet thou hast this comfort lo pardee
That as hir Ioyes moten over-goon
So mote hir sorwes passen everichoon
'For if hir wheel stinte any-thing to torne
Than cessed she Fortune anoon to be
Now sith hir wheel by no wey may soiorne
What wostow if hir mutabilitee
Right as thy-selven list wol doon by thee
Or that she be not fer fro thyn helpinge
Paraunter thou hast cause for to singe
'And therfor wostow what I thee beseche
Lat be thy wo and turning to the grounde
For who-so list have helping of his leche
To him bihoveth first unwrye his wounde
To Cerberus in helle ay be I bounde
Were it for my suster al thy sorwe
By my wil she sholde al be thyn to-morwe
'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
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
'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
And som thou seydest hadde a blaunche fevere
And preydest god he sholde never kevere
'And som of hem tok on hem for the colde
More than y-nough so seydestow ful ofte
And som han feyned ofte tyme and tolde
How that they wake whan they slepen softe
And thus they wolde han brought hem-self a-lofte
And nathelees were under at the laste
Thus seydestow and Iapedest ful faste
'Yet seydestow that for the more part
These loveres wolden speke in general
And thoughten that it was a siker art
For fayling for to assayen over-al
Now may I iape of thee if that I shal
But nathelees though that I sholde deye
That thou art noon of tho that dorste I seye
'Now beet thy brest and sey to god of love
Thy grace lord For now I me repente
If I mis spak for now my-self I love
Thus sey with al thyn herte in good entente
Quod Troilus 'A Lord I me consente
And prey to thee my Iapes thou foryive
And I shal never-more whyl I live
'Thou seyst wel' quod Pandare 'and now I hope
That thou the goddes wraththe hast al apesed
And sithen thou hast wepen many a drope
And seyd swich thing wher-with thy god is plesed
Now wolde never god but thou were esed
And think wel she of whom rist al thy wo
Here-after may thy comfort been al-so
'For thilke ground that bereth the wedes wikke
Bereth eek thise holsom herbes as ful ofte
Next the foule netle rough and thikke
The rose waxeth swote and smothe and softe
And next the valey is the hil a-lofte
And next the derke night the glade morwe
And also Ioye is next the fyn of sorwe
'Now loke that atempre be thy brydel
And for the beste ay suffre to the tyde
Or elles al our labour is on ydel
He hasteth wel that wysly can abyde
Be diligent and trewe and ay wel hyde
Be lusty free persevere in thy servyse
And al is wel if thou werke in this wyse
'But he that parted is in every place
Is no-wher hool as writen clerkes wyse
What wonder is though swich oon have no grace
Eek wostow how it fareth of som servyse
As plaunte a tre or herbe in sondry wyse
And on the morwe pulle it up as blyve
No wonder is though it may never thryve
'And sith that god of love hath thee bistowed
In place digne un-to thy worthinesse
Stond faste for to good port hastow rowed
And of thy-self for any hevinesse
Hope alwey wel for but-if drerinesse
Or over-haste our bothe labour shende
I hope of this to maken a good ende
'And wostow why I am the lasse a-fered
Of this matere with my nece trete
For this have I herd seyd of wyse y-lered
Was never man ne woman yet bigete
That was unapt to suffren loves hete
Celestial or elles love of kinde
For-thy som grace I hope in hir to finde
'And for to speke of hir in special
Hir beautee to bithinken and hir youthe
It sit hir nought to be celestial
As yet though that hir liste bothe and couthe
But trewely it sete hir wel right nouthe
A worthy knight to loven and cheryce
And but she do I holde it for a vyce
'Wherfore I am and wol be ay redy
To peyne me to do yow this servyse
For bothe yow to plese thus hope I
Her-afterward for ye beth bothe wyse
And conne it counseyl kepe in swich a wyse
That no man shal the wyser of it be
And so we may be gladed alle three
'And by my trouthe I have right now of thee
A good conceyt in my wit as I gesse
And what it is I wol now that thou see
I thenke sith that love of his goodnesse
Hath thee converted out of wikkednesse
That thou shalt be the beste post I leve
Of al his lay and most his foos to-greve
'Ensample why see now these wyse clerkes
That erren aldermost a-yein a lawe
And ben converted from hir wikked werkes
Thorugh grace of god that list hem to him drawe
Than arn they folk that han most god in awe
And strengest-feythed been I understonde
And conne an errour alder-best withstonde
Whan Troilus had herd Pandare assented
To been his help in loving of Criseyde
Wex of his wo as who seyth untormented
But hotter wex his love and thus he seyde
With sobre chere al-though his herte pleyde
'Now blisful Venus helpe er that I sterve
Of thee Pandare I may som thank deserve
'But dere frend how shal myn wo ben lesse
Til this be doon And goode eek tel me this
How wiltow seyn of me and my destresse
Lest she be wrooth this drede I most y-wys
Or nil not here or trowen how it is
Al this drede I and eek for the manere
Of thee hir eem she nil no swich thing here
Quod Pandarus 'Thou hast a ful gret care
Lest that the cherl may falle out of the mone
Why lord I hate of the thy nyce fare
Why entremete of that thou hast to done
For goddes love I bidde thee a bone
So lat me alone and it shal be thy beste'  
'Why freend' quod he 'now do right as the leste
'But herke Pandare o word for I nolde
That thou in me wendest so greet folye
That to my lady I desiren sholde
That toucheth harm or any vilenye
For dredelees me were lever dye
Than she of me ought elles understode
But that that mighte sounen in-to gode
Tho lough this Pandare and anoon answerde
'And I thy borw Fy No wight dooth but so
I roughte nought though that she stode and herde
How that thou seyst but fare-wel I wol go
A-dieu Be glad God spede us bothe two
Yif me this labour and this besinesse
And of my speed be thyn al that swetnesse
Tho Troilus gan doun on knees to falle
And Pandare in his armes hente faste
And seyde 'Now fy on the Grekes alle
Yet pardee god shal helpe us at the laste
And dredelees if that my lyf may laste
And god to-forn lo som of hem shal smerte
And yet me athinketh that this avaunt me asterte
'Now Pandare I can no more seye
But thou wys thou wost thou mayst thou art al
My lyf my deeth hool in thyn bonde I leye
Help now' Quod he 'Yis by my trouthe I shal
'God yelde thee freend and this in special
Quod Troilus 'that thou me recomaunde
To hir that to the deeth me may comaunde
This Pandarus tho desirous to serve
His fulle freend than seyde in this manere
'Far-wel and thenk I wol thy thank deserve
Have here my trouthe and that thou shalt wel here'  
And wente his wey thenking on this matere
And how he best mighte hir beseche of grace
And finde a tyme ther-to and a place
For every wight that hath an hous to founde
Ne renneth nought the werk for to biginne
With rakel hond but he wol byde a stounde
And sende his hertes lyne out fro with-inne
Alderfirst his purpos for to winne
Al this Pandare in his herte thoughte
And caste his werk ful wysly or he wroughte
But Troilus lay tho no lenger doun
But up anoon up-on his stede bay
And in the feld he pleyde tho leoun
Wo was that Greek that with him mette that day
And in the toun his maner tho forth ay
So goodly was and gat him so in grace
That ech him lovede that loked on his face
For he bicom the frendlyeste wight
The gentileste and eek the moste free
The thriftieste and oon the beste knight
That in his tyme was or mighte be
Dede were his Iapes and his crueltee
His heighe port and his manere estraunge
And ech of tho gan for a vertu chaunge
Now lat us stinte of Troilus a stounde
That fareth lyk a man that hurt is sore
And is somdel of akinge of his wounde
Y-lissed wel but heled no del more
And as an esy pacient the lore
Abit of him that gooth aboute his cure
And thus he dryveth forth his aventure
Out of these blake wawes for to sayle
O wind O wind the weder ginneth clere
For in this see the boot hath swich travayle
Of my conning that unnethe I it stere
This see clepe I the tempestous matere
Of desespeyr that Troilus was inne
But now of hope the calendes biginne
O lady myn that called art Cleo
Thou be my speed fro this forth and my muse
To ryme wel this book til I have do
Me nedeth here noon other art to use
For-why to every lovere I me excuse
That of no sentement I this endyte
But out of Latin in my tonge it wryte
Wherfore I nil have neither thank ne blame
Of al this werk but prey yow mekely
Disblameth me if any word be lame
For as myn auctor seyde so seye I
Eek though I speke of love unfelingly
No wondre is for it no-thing of newe is
A blind man can nat Iuggen wel in hewis
Ye knowe eek that in forme of speche is chaunge
With-inne a thousand yeer and wordes tho
That hadden prys now wonder nyce and straunge
Us thinketh hem and yet they spake hem so
And spedde as wel in love as men now do
Eek for to winne love in sondry ages
In sondry londes sondry ben usages
And for-thy if it happe in any wyse
That here be any lovere in this place
That herkneth as the storie wol devyse
How Troilus com to his lady grace
And thenketh so nolde I nat love purchace
Or wondreth on his speche or his doinge
I noot but it is me no wonderinge
For every wight which that to Rome went
Halt nat o path or alwey o manere
Eek in som lond were al the gamen shent
If that they ferde in love as men don here
As thus in open doing or in chere
In visitinge in forme or seyde hire sawes
For-thy men seyn ech contree hath his lawes
Eek scarsly been ther in this place three
That han in love seid lyk and doon in al
For to thy purpos this may lyken thee
And thee right nought yet al is seyd or shal
Eek som men grave in tree som in stoon wal
As it bitit but sin I have begonne
Myn auctor shal I folwen if I conne
In May that moder is of monthes glade
That fresshe floures blewe and whyte and rede
Ben quike agayn that winter dede made
And ful of bawme is fleting every mede
Whan Phebus doth his brighte bemes sprede
Right in the whyte Bole it so bitidde
As I shal singe on Mayes day the thridde
That Pandarus for al his wyse speche
Felt eek his part of loves shottes kene
That coude he never so wel of loving preche
It made his hewe a-day ful ofte grene
So shoop it that hym fil that day a tene
In love for which in wo to bedde he wente
And made er it was day ful many a wente
The swalwe Proigne with a sorwful lay
Whan morwe com gan make hir waymentinge
Why she forshapen was and ever lay
Pandare a-bedde half in a slomeringe
Til she so neigh him made hir chiteringe
How Tereus gan forth hir suster take
That with the noyse of hir he gan a-wake
And gan to calle and dresse him up to ryse
Remembringe him his erand was to done
From Troilus and eek his greet empryse
And caste and knew in good plyt was the mone
To doon viage and took his wey ful sone
Un-to his neces paleys ther bi-syde
Now Ianus god of entree thou him gyde
Whan he was come un-to his neces place
'Wher is my lady' to hir folk seyde he
And they him tolde and he forth in gan pace
And fond two othere ladyes sete and she
With-inne a paved parlour and they three
Herden a mayden reden hem the geste
Of the Sege of Thebes whyl hem leste
Quod Pandarus 'Ma dame god yow see
With al your book and al the companye
'Ey uncle myn welcome y-wis' quod she
And up she roos and by the hond in hye
She took him faste and seyde 'This night thrye
To goode mote it turne of yow I mette
And with that word she doun on bench him sette
'Ye nece ye shal fare wel the bet
If god wole al this yeer' quod Pandarus
'But I am sory that I have yow let
To herknen of your book ye preysen thus
For goddes love what seith it tel it us
Is it of love O som good ye me lere
'Uncle' quod she 'your maistresse is not here
With that they gonnen laughe and tho she seyde
'This romaunce is of Thebes that we rede
And we han herd how that king Laius deyde
Thurgh Edippus his sone and al that dede
And here we stenten at these lettres rede
How the bisshop as the book can telle
Amphiorax fil thurgh the ground to helle
Quod Pandarus 'Al this knowe I my-selve
And al the assege of Thebes and the care
For her-of been ther maked bokes twelve  
But lat be this and tel me how ye fare
Do wey your barbe and shew your face bare
Do wey your book rys up and lat us daunce
And lat us don to May som observaunce
'A God forbede' quod she 'Be ye mad
Is that a widewes lyf so god you save
By god ye maken me right sore a-drad
Ye ben so wilde it semeth as ye rave
It sete me wel bet ay in a cave
To bidde and rede on holy seyntes lyves
Lat maydens gon to daunce and yonge wyves
'As ever thryve I' quod this Pandarus
'Yet coude I telle a thing to doon you pleye
'Now uncle dere' quod she 'tel it us
For goddes love is than the assege aweye
I am of Grekes so ferd that I deye
'Nay nay' quod he 'as ever mote I thryve
It is a thing wel bet than swiche fyve
'Ye holy god' quod she 'what thing is that
What Bet than swiche fyve Ey nay y-wis
For al this world ne can I reden what
It sholde been som Iape I trowe is this
And but your-selven telle us what it is
My wit is for to arede it al to lene
As help me god I noot nat what ye meene
'And I your borow ne never shal for me
This thing be told to yow as mote I thryve
'And why so uncle myn Why so' quod she
'By god' quod he 'that wole I telle as blyve
For prouder womman were ther noon on-lyve
And ye it wiste in al the toun of Troye
I iape nought as ever have I Ioye
Tho gan she wondren more than biforn
A thousand fold and doun hir eyen caste
For never sith the tyme that she was born
To knowe thing desired she so faste
And with a syk she seyde him at the laste
'Now uncle myn I nil yow nought displese
Nor axen more that may do yow disese
So after this with many wordes glade
And freendly tales and with mery chere
Of this and that they pleyde and gunnen wade
In many an unkouth glad and deep matere
As freendes doon whan they ben met y-fere
Til she gan axen him how Ector ferde
That was the tounes wal and Grekes yerde
'Ful wel I thanke it god' quod Pandarus
'Save in his arm he hath a litel wounde
And eek his fresshe brother Troilus
The wyse worthy Ector the secounde
In whom that ever vertu list abounde
As alle trouthe and alle gentillesse
Wysdom honour fredom and worthinesse
'In good feith eem' quod she 'that lyketh me
They faren wel god save hem bothe two
For trewely I holde it greet deyntee
A kinges sone in armes wel to do
And been of good condiciouns ther-to
For greet power and moral vertu here
Is selde y-seye in o persone y-fere
'In good feith that is sooth' quod Pandarus
'But by my trouthe the king hath sones tweye
That is to mene Ector and Troilus
That certainly though that I sholde deye
They been as voyde of vyces dar I seye
As any men that liveth under the sonne
Hir might is wyde y-knowe and what they conne
'Of Ector nedeth it nought for to telle
In al this world ther nis a bettre knight
Than he that is of worthinesse welle
And he wel more vertu hath than might
This knoweth many a wys and worthy wight
The same prys of Troilus I seye
God help me so I knowe not swiche tweye
'By god' quod she 'of Ector that is sooth
Of Troilus the same thing trowe I
For dredelees men tellen that he dooth
In armes day by day so worthily
And bereth him here at hoom so gentilly
To every wight that al the prys hath he
Of hem that me were levest preysed be
'Ye sey right sooth y-wis' quod Pandarus
'For yesterday who-so hadde with him been
He might have wondred up-on Troilus
For never yet so thikke a swarm of been
Ne fleigh as Grekes fro him gonne fleen
And thorugh the feld in everi wightes ere
Ther nas no cry but Troilus is there
'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
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
'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
'For nece by the goddesse Minerve
And Iuppiter that maketh the thonder ringe
And by the blisful Venus that I serve
Ye been the womman in this world livinge
With-oute paramours to my wittinge
That I best love and lothest am to greve
And that ye witen wel your-self I leve
'Y-wis myn uncle' quod she 'grant mercy
Your freendship have I founden ever yit
I am to no man holden trewely
So muche as yow and have so litel quit
And with the grace of god emforth my wit
As in my gilt I shal you never offende
And if I have er this I wol amende
'But for the love of god I yow beseche
As ye ben he that I love most and triste
Lat be to me your fremde manere speche
And sey to me your nece what yow liste
And with that word hir uncle anoon hir kiste
And seyde 'Gladly leve nece dere
Tak it for good that I shal seye yow here
With that she gan hir eiyen doun to caste
And Pandarus to coghe gan a lyte
And seyde 'Nece alwey lo To the laste
How-so it be that som men hem delyte
With subtil art hir tales for to endyte
Yet for al that in hir entencioun
Hir tale is al for som conclusioun
'And sithen thende is every tales strengthe
And this matere is so bihovely
What sholde I peynte or drawen it on lengthe
To yow that been my freend so feithfully
And with that word he gan right inwardly
Biholden hir and loken on hir face
And seyde 'On suche a mirour goode grace
Than thoughte he thus 'If I my tale endyte
Ought hard or make a proces any whyle
She shal no savour han ther-in but lyte
And trowe I wolde hir in my wil bigyle
For tendre wittes wenen al be wyle
Ther-as they can nat pleynly understonde
For-thy hir wit to serven wol I fonde  
And loked on hir in a besy wyse
And she was war that he byheld hir so
And seyde 'Lord So faste ye me avyse
Sey ye me never er now What sey ye no
'Yes yes' quod he 'and bet wole er I go
But by my trouthe I thoughte now if ye
Be fortunat for now men shal it see
'For to every wight som goodly aventure
Som tyme is shape if he it can receyven
And if that he wol take of it no cure
Whan that it commeth but wilfully it weyven
Lo neither cas nor fortune him deceyven
But right his verray slouthe and wrecchednesse
And swich a wight is for to blame I gesse
'Good aventure O bele nece have ye
Ful lightly founden and ye conne it take
And for the love of god and eek of me
Cacche it anoon lest aventure slake
What sholde I lenger proces of it make
Yif me your hond for in this world is noon
If that yow list a wight so wel begoon
'And sith I speke of good entencioun
As I to yow have told wel here-biforn
And love as wel your honour and renoun
As creature in al this world y-born
By alle the othes that I have yow sworn
And ye be wrooth therfore or wene I lye
Ne shal I never seen yow eft with ye
'Beth nought agast ne quaketh nat wher-to
Ne chaungeth nat for fere so your hewe
For hardely the werste of this is do
And though my tale as now be to yow newe
Yet trist alwey ye shal me finde trewe
And were it thing that me thoughte unsittinge
To yow nolde I no swiche tales bringe
'Now my good eem for goddes love I preye
Quod she 'com of and tel me what it is
For bothe I am agast what ye wol seye
And eek me longeth it to wite y-wis
For whether it be wel or be amis
Say on lat me not in this fere dwelle
'So wol I doon now herkneth I shal telle
'Now nece myn the kinges dere sone
The goode wyse worthy fresshe and free
Which alwey for to do wel is his wone
The noble Troilus so loveth thee
That bot ye helpe it wol his bane be
Lo here is al what sholde I more seye
Doth what yow list to make him live or deye
'But if ye lete him deye I wol sterve
Have her my trouthe nece I nil not lyen
Al sholde I with this knyf my throte kerve  
With that the teres braste out of his yen
And seyde 'If that ye doon us bothe dyen
Thus giltelees than have ye fisshed faire
What mende ye though that we bothe apeyre
'Allas He which that is my lord so dere
That trewe man that noble gentil knight
That nought desireth but your freendly chere
I see him deye ther he goth up-right
And hasteth him with al his fulle might
For to be slayn if fortune wol assente
Allas That god yow swich a beautee sente
'If it be so that ye so cruel be
That of his deeth yow liste nought to recche
That is so trewe and worthy as ye see
No more than of a Iapere or a wrecche
If ye be swich your beautee may not strecche
To make amendes of so cruel a dede
Avysement is good bifore the nede
'Wo worth the faire gemme vertulees
Wo worth that herbe also that dooth no bote
Wo worth that beautee that is routhelees
Wo worth that wight that tret ech under fote
And ye that been of beautee crop and rote
If therwith-al in you ther be no routhe
Than is it harm ye liven by my trouthe
'And also thenk wel that this is no gaude
For me were lever thou and I and he
Were hanged than I sholde been his baude
As heyghe as men mighte on us alle y-see
I am thyn eem the shame were to me
As wel as thee if that I sholde assente
Thorugh myn abet that he thyn honour shente
'Now understond for I yow nought requere
To binde yow to him thorugh no beheste
But only that ye make him bettre chere
Than ye han doon er this and more feste
So that his lyf be saved at the leste
This al and som and playnly our entente
God help me so I never other mente
'Lo this request is not but skile y-wis
Ne doute of reson pardee is ther noon
I sette the worste that ye dredden this
Men wolden wondren seen him come or goon
Ther-ayeins answere I thus a-noon
That every wight but he be fool of kinde
Wol deme it love of freendship in his minde
'What Who wol deme though he see a man
To temple go that he the images eteth
Thenk eek how wel and wysly that he can
Governe him-self that he no-thing foryeteth
That wher he cometh he prys and thank him geteth
And eek ther-to he shal come here so selde
What fors were it though al the toun behelde
'Swich love of freendes regneth al this toun
And wrye yow in that mantel ever-mo
And god so wis be my savacioun
As I have seyd your beste is to do so
But alwey goode nece to stinte his wo
So lat your daunger sucred ben a lyte
That of his deeth ye be nought for to wyte
Criseyde which that herde him in this wyse
Thoughte 'I shal fele what he meneth y-wis
'Now eem' quod she 'what wolde ye devyse
What is your reed I sholde doon of this
'That is wel seyd' quod be 'certayn best is
That ye him love ayein for his lovinge
As love for love is skilful guerdoninge
'Thenk eek how elde wasteth every houre
In eche of yow a party of beautee
And therfore er that age thee devoure
Go love for olde ther wol no wight of thee
Lat this proverbe a lore un-to yow be
To late y-war quod Beautee whan it paste
And elde daunteth daunger at the laste
'The kinges fool is woned to cryen loude
Whan that him thinketh a womman bereth hir hye
So longe mote ye live and alle proude
Til crowes feet be growe under your ye
And sende yow thanne a mirour in to prye
In whiche that ye may see your face a-morwe
Nece I bidde wisshe yow no more sorwe
With this he stente and caste adoun the heed
And she bigan to breste a-wepe anoon
And seyde 'Allas for wo Why nere I deed
For of this world the feith is al agoon
Allas What sholden straunge to me doon
Whan he that for my beste freend I wende
Ret me to love and sholde it me defende
'Allas I wolde han trusted doutelees
That if that I thurgh my disaventure
Had loved other him or Achilles
Ector or any mannes creature
Ye nolde han had no mercy ne mesure
On me but alwey had me in repreve
This false world allas Who may it leve
'What Is this al the Ioye and al the feste
Is this your reed is this my blisful cas
Is this the verray mede of your beheste
Is al this peynted proces seyd allas
Right for this fyn O lady myn Pallas
Thou in this dredful cas for me purveye
For so astonied am I that I deye
With that she gan ful sorwfully to syke
'A May it be no bet' quod Pandarus
'By god I shal no-more come here this wyke
And god to-forn that am mistrusted thus
I see ful wel that ye sette lyte of us
Or of our deeth Allas I woful wrecche
Mighte he yet live of me is nought to recche
'O cruel god O dispitouse Marte
O Furies three of helle on yow I crye
So lat me never out of this hous departe
If that I mente harm or vilanye
But sith I see my lord mot nedes dye
And I with him here I me shryve and seye
That wikkedly ye doon us bothe deye
'But sith it lyketh yow that I be deed
By Neptunus that god is of the see
Fro this forth shal I never eten breed
Til I myn owene herte blood may see
For certayn I wole deye as sone as he  
And up he sterte and on his wey he raughte
Til she agayn him by the lappe caughte
Criseyde which that wel neigh starf for fere
So as she was the ferfulleste wight
That mighte be and herde eek with hir ere
And saw the sorwful ernest of the knight
And in his preyere eek saw noon unright
And for the harm that mighte eek fallen more
She gan to rewe and dredde hir wonder sore
And thoughte thus 'Unhappes fallen thikke
Alday for love and in swich maner cas
As men ben cruel in hem-self and wikke
And if this man slee here him-self allas
In my presence it wol be no solas
What men wolde of hit deme I can nat seye
It nedeth me ful sleyly for to pleye
And with a sorwful syk she seyde thrye
'A Lord What me is tid a sory chaunce
For myn estat lyth in Iupartye
And eek myn emes lyf lyth in balaunce
But nathelees with goddes governaunce
I shal so doon myn honour shal I kepe
And eek his lyf' and stinte for to wepe
'Of harmes two the lesse is for to chese
Yet have I lever maken him good chere
In honour than myn emes lyf to lese
Ye seyn ye no-thing elles me requere
'No wis' quod he 'myn owene nece dere
'Now wel' quod she 'and I wol doon my peyne
I shal myn herte ayeins my lust constreyne
'But that I nil not holden him in honde
Ne love a man ne can I not ne may
Ayeins my wil but elles wol I fonde
Myn honour sauf plese him fro day to day
Ther-to nolde I nought ones have seyd nay
But that I dredde as in my fantasye
But cesse cause ay cesseth maladye
'And here I make a protestacioun
That in this proces if ye depper go
That certaynly for no savacioun
Of yow though that ye sterve bothe two
Though al the world on o day be my fo
Ne shal I never on him han other routhe  
'I graunte wel' quod Pandare 'by my trouthe
'But may I truste wel ther-to' quod he
'That of this thing that ye han hight me here
Ye wol it holden trewly un-to me
'Ye doutelees' quod she 'myn uncle dere
'Ne that I shal han cause in this matere
Quod he 'to pleyne or after yow to preche
'Why no parde what nedeth more speche
Tho fillen they in othere tales glade
Til at the laste 'O good eem' quod she tho
'For love of god which that us bothe made
Tel me how first ye wisten of his wo
Wot noon of hit but ye' He seyde 'No
'Can he wel speke of love' quod she 'I preye
Tel me for I the bet me shal purveye
Tho Pandarus a litel gan to smyle
And seyde 'By my trouthe I shal yow telle
This other day nought gon ful longe whyle
In-with the paleys-gardyn by a welle
Gan he and I wel half a day to dwelle
Right for to speken of an ordenaunce
How we the Grekes myghte disavaunce
'Sone after that bigonne we to lepe
And casten with our dartes to and fro
Til at the laste he seyde he wolde slepe
And on the gres a-doun he leyde him tho
And I after gan rome to and fro
Til that I herde as that I welk allone
How he bigan ful wofully to grone
'Tho gan I stalke him softely bihinde
And sikerly the sothe for to seyne
As I can clepe ayein now to my minde
Right thus to Love he gan him for to pleyne
He seyde Lord Have routhe up-on my peyne
Al have I been rebel in myn entente
Now MEA CULPA lord I me repente
'O god that at thy disposicioun
Ledest the fyn by Iuste purveyaunce
Of every wight my lowe confessioun
Accepte in gree and send me swich penaunce
As lyketh thee but from desesperaunce
That may my goost departe awey fro thee
Thou be my sheld for thy benignitee
'For certes lord so soore hath she me wounded
That stod in blak with loking of hir yen
That to myn hertes botme it is y-sounded
Thorugh which I woot that I mot nedes dyen
This is the worste I dar me not bi-wryen
And wel the hotter been the gledes rede
That men hem wryen with asshen pale and dede
'With that he smoot his heed adoun anoon
And gan to motre I noot what trewely
And I with that gan stille awey to goon
And leet ther-of as no-thing wist hadde I
And come ayein anoon and stood him by
And seyde A-wake ye slepen al to longe
It semeth nat that love dooth yow longe
'That slepen so that no man may yow wake
Who sey ever or this so dul a man
Ye freend quod he do ye your hedes ake
For love and lat me liven as I can
But though that he for wo was pale and wan
Yet made he tho as freshe a countenaunce
As though he shulde have led the newe daunce
'This passed forth til now this other day
It fel that I com roming al allone
Into his chaumbre and fond how that he lay
Up-on his bed but man so sore grone
Ne herde I never and what that was his mone
Ne wist I nought for as I was cominge
Al sodeynly he lefte his compleyninge
'Of which I took somwat suspecioun
And neer I com and fond he wepte sore
And god so wis be my savacioun
As never of thing hadde I no routhe more
For neither with engyn ne with no lore
Unethes mighte I fro the deeth him kepe
That yet fele I myn herte for him wepe
'And god wot never sith that I was born
Was I so bisy no man for to preche
Ne never was to wight so depe y-sworn
Or he me tolde who mighte been his leche
But now to yow rehersen al his speche
Or alle his woful wordes for to soune
Ne bid me not but ye wol see me swowne
'But for to save his lyf and elles nought
And to non harm of yow thus am I driven
And for the love of god that us hath wrought
Swich chere him dooth that he and I may liven
Now have I plat to yow myn herte shriven
And sin ye woot that myn entente is clene
Tak hede ther-of for I non yvel mene
'And right good thrift I prey to god have ye
That han swich oon y-caught with-oute net
And be ye wys as ye ben fair to see
Wel in the ring than is the ruby set
Ther were never two so wel y-met
Whan ye ben his al hool as he is youre
Ther mighty god yet graunte us see that houre
'Nay therof spak I not a ha' quod she
'As helpe me god ye shenden every deel
'O mercy dere nece' anoon quod he
'What-so I spak I mente nought but weel
By Mars the god that helmed is of steel
Now beth nought wrooth my blood my nece dere
'Now wel' quod she 'foryeven be it here
With this he took his leve and hoom he wente
And lord he was glad and wel bigoon
Criseyde aroos no lenger she ne stente
But straught in-to hir closet wente anoon
And sette here doun as stille as any stoon
And every word gan up and doun to winde
That he hadde seyd as it com hir to minde
And wex somdel astonied in hir thought
Right for the newe cas but whan that she
Was ful avysed tho fond she right nought
Of peril why she oughte afered be
For man may love of possibilitee
A womman so his herte may to-breste
And she nought love ayein but-if hir leste
But as she sat allone and thoughte thus
Thascry aroos at skarmish al with-oute
And men cryde in the strete 'See Troilus
Hath right now put to flight the Grekes route
With that gan al hir meynee for to shoute
'A Go we see caste up the latis wyde
For thurgh this strete he moot to palays ryde
'For other wey is fro the yate noon
Of Dardanus ther open is the cheyne
With that com he and al his folk anoon
An esy pas rydinge in routes tweyne
Right as his happy day was sooth to seyne
For which men say may nought disturbed be
That shal bityden of necessitee
This Troilus sat on his baye stede
Al armed save his heed ful richely
And wounded was his hors and gan to blede
On whiche he rood a pas ful softely
But swych a knightly sighte trewely
As was on him was nought with-outen faile
To loke on Mars that god is of batayle
So lyk a man of armes and a knight
He was to seen fulfild of heigh prowesse
For bothe he hadde a body and a might
To doon that thing as wel as hardinesse
And eek to seen him in his gere him dresse
So fresh so yong so weldy semed he
It was an heven up-on him for to see
His helm to-hewen was in twenty places
That by a tissew heng his bak bihinde
His sheld to-dasshed was with swerdes and maces
In which men mighte many an arwe finde
That thirled hadde horn and nerf and rinde
And ay the peple cryde 'Here cometh our Ioye
And next his brother holdere up of Troye
For which he wex a litel reed for shame
Whan he the peple up-on him herde cryen
That to biholde it was a noble game
How sobreliche he caste doun his yen
Cryseyda gan al his chere aspyen
And leet so softe it in hir herte sinke
That to hir-self she seyde 'Who yaf me drinke
For of hir owene thought she wex al reed
Remembringe hir right thus 'Lo this is he
Which that myn uncle swereth he moot be deed
But I on him have mercy and pitee
And with that thought for pure a-shamed she
Gan in hir heed to pulle and that as faste
Whyl he and al the peple for-by paste
And gan to caste and rollen up and doun
With-inne hir thought his excellent prowesse
And his estat and also his renoun
His wit his shap and eek his gentillesse
But most hir favour was for his distresse
Was al for hir and thoughte it was a routhe
To sleen swich oon if that he mente trouthe
Now mighte som envyous Iangle thus
'This was a sodeyn love how mighte it be
That she so lightly lovede Troilus
Right for the firste sighte ye pardee
Now who-so seyth so mote he never thee
For every thing a ginning hath it nede
Er al be wrought with-outen any drede
For I sey nought that she so sodeynly
Yaf him hir love but that she gan enclyne
To lyke him first and I have told yow why
And after that his manhod and his pyne
Made love with-inne hir for to myne
For which by proces and by good servyse
He gat hir love and in no sodeyn wyse
And also blisful Venus wel arayed
Sat in hir seventhe hous of hevene tho
Disposed wel and with aspectes payed
To helpen sely Troilus of his wo
And sooth to seyn she nas not al a fo
To Troilus in his nativitee
God woot that wel the soner spedde he
Now lat us stinte of Troilus a throwe
That rydeth forth and lat us tourne faste
Un-to Criseyde that heng hir heed ful lowe
Ther-as she sat allone and gan to caste
Wher-on she wolde apoynte hir at the laste
If it so were hir eem ne wolde cesse
For Troilus up-on hir for to presse
And lord So she gan in hir thought argue
In this matere of which I have yow told
And what to doon best were and what eschue
That plyted she ful ofte in many fold
Now was hir herte warm now was it cold
And what she thoughte somwhat shal I wryte
As to myn auctor listeth for to endyte
She thoughte wel that Troilus persone
She knew by sighte and eek his gentillesse
And thus she seyde 'Al were it nought to done
To graunte him love yet for his worthinesse
It were honour with pley and with gladnesse
In honestee with swich a lord to dele
For myn estat and also for his hele
'Eek wel wot I my kinges sone is he
And sith he hath to see me swich delyt
If I wolde utterly his sighte flee
Peraunter he mighte have me in dispyt
Thurgh which I mighte stonde in worse plyt
Now were I wys me hate to purchace
With-outen nede ther I may stonde in grace
'In every thing I woot ther lyth mesure
For though a man forbede dronkenesse
He nought for-bet that every creature
Be drinkelees for alwey as I gesse
Eek sith I woot for me is his distresse
I ne oughte not for that thing him despyse
Sith it is so he meneth in good wyse
'And eek I knowe of longe tyme agoon
His thewes goode and that he is not nyce
Ne avauntour seyth men certein he is noon
To wys is he to do so gret a vyce
Ne als I nel him never so cheryce
That he may make avaunt by Iuste cause
He shal me never binde in swiche a clause
'Now set a cas the hardest is y-wis
Men mighten deme that he loveth me
What dishonour were it un-to me this
May I him lette of that Why nay pardee
I knowe also and alday here and see
Men loven wommen al this toun aboute
Be they the wers Why nay with-outen doute
'I thenk eek how he able is for to have
Of al this noble toun the thriftieste
To been his love so she hir honour save
For out and out he is the worthieste
Save only Ector which that is the beste
And yet his lyf al lyth now in my cure
But swich is love and eek myn aventure
'Ne me to love a wonder is it nought
For wel wot I my-self so god me spede
Al wolde I that noon wiste of this thought
I am oon the fayreste out of drede
And goodlieste who-so taketh hede
And so men seyn in al the toun of Troye
What wonder is it though he of me have Ioye
'I am myn owene woman wel at ese
I thank it god as after myn estat
Right yong and stonde unteyd in lusty lese
With-outen Ialousye or swich debat
Shal noon housbonde seyn to me Chekmat
For either they ben ful of Ialousye
Or maisterful or loven novelrye
'What shal I doon To what fyn live I thus
Shal I nat loven in cas if that me leste
What par dieux I am nought religious
And though that I myn herte sette at reste
Upon this knight that is the worthieste
And kepe alwey myn honour and my name
By alle right it may do me no shame
But right as whan the sonne shyneth brighte
In March that chaungeth ofte tyme his face
And that a cloud is put with wind to flighte
Which over-sprat the sonne as for a space
A cloudy thought gan thorugh hir soule pace
That over-spradde hir brighte thoughtes alle
So that for fere almost she gan to falle
That thought was this 'Allas Sin I am free
Sholde I now love and putte in Iupartye
My sikernesse and thrallen libertee
Allas How dorste I thenken that folye
May I nought wel in other folk aspye
Hir dredful Ioye hir constreynt and hir peyne
Ther loveth noon that she nath why to pleyne
'For love is yet the moste stormy lyf
Right of him-self that ever was bigonne
For ever som mistrust or nyce stryf
Ther is in love som cloud is over that sonne
Ther-to we wrecched wommen no-thing conne
Whan us is wo but wepe and sitte and thinke
Our wreche is this our owene wo to drinke
'Also these wikked tonges been so prest
To speke us harm eek men be so untrewe
That right anoon as cessed is hir lest
So cesseth love and forth to love a newe
But harm y-doon is doon who-so it rewe
For though these men for love hem first to-rende
Ful sharp biginning breketh ofte at ende
'How ofte tyme hath it y-knowen be
The treson that to womman hath be do
To what fyn is swich love I can nat see
Or wher bicometh it whan it is ago
Ther is no wight that woot I trowe so
Wher it bycomth lo no wight on it sporneth
That erst was no-thing in-to nought it torneth
'How bisy if I love eek moste I be
To plesen hem that Iangle of love and demen
And coye hem that they sey non harm of me
For though ther be no cause yet hem semen
Al be for harm that folk hir freendes quemen
And who may stoppen every wikked tonge
Or soun of belles whyl that they be ronge
And after that hir thought bigan to clere
And seyde 'He which that no-thing under-taketh
No thing ne acheveth be him looth or dere
And with an other thought hir herte quaketh
Than slepeth hope and after dreed awaketh
Now hoot now cold but thus bi-twixen tweye
She rist hir up and went hir for to pleye
Adoun the steyre anoon-right tho she wente
In-to the gardin with hir neces three
And up and doun ther made many a wente
Flexippe she Tharbe and Antigone
To pleyen that it Ioye was to see
And othere of hir wommen a gret route
hir folwede in the gardin al aboute
This yerd was large and rayled alle the aleyes
And shadwed wel with blosmy bowes grene
And benched newe and sonded alle the weyes
In which she walketh arm in arm bi-twene
Til at the laste Antigone the shene
Gan on a Troian song to singe clere
That it an heven was hir voys to here  
She seyde 'O love to whom I have and shal
Ben humble subgit trewe in myn entente
As I best can to yow lord yeve ich al
For ever-more myn hertes lust to rente
For never yet thy grace no wight sente
So blisful cause as me my lyf to lede
In alle Ioye and seurtee out of drede
'Ye blisful god han me so wel beset
In love y-wis that al that bereth lyf
Imaginen ne cowde how to ben bet
For lord with-outen Ialousye or stryf
I love oon which that is most ententyf
To serven wel unwery or unfeyned
That ever was and leest with harm distreyned
'As he that is the welle of worthinesse
Of trouthe ground mirour of goodliheed
Of wit Appollo stoon of sikernesse
Of vertu rote of lust findere and heed
Thurgh which is alle sorwe fro me deed
Y-wis I love him best so doth he me
Now good thrift have he wher-so that he be
'Whom sholde I thanke but yow god of love
Of al this blisse in which to bathe I ginne
And thanked be ye lord for that I love
This is the righte lyf that I am inne
To flemen alle manere vyce and sinne
This doth me so to vertu for to entende
That day by day I in my wil amende
'And who-so seyth that for to love is vyce
Or thraldom though he fele in it distresse
He outher is envyous or right nyce
Or is unmighty for his shrewednesse
To loven for swich maner folk I gesse
Defamen love as no-thing of him knowe
Thei speken but they bente never his bowe
'What is the sonne wers of kinde righte
Though that a man for feblesse of his yen
May nought endure on it to see for brighte
Or love the wers though wrecches on it cryen
No wele is worth that may no sorwe dryen
And for-thy who that hath an heed of verre
Fro cast of stones war him in the werre
'But I with al myn herte and al my might
As I have seyd wol love un-to my laste
My dere herte and al myn owene knight
In which myn herte growen is so faste
And his in me that it shal ever laste
Al dredde I first to love him to biginne
Now woot I wel ther is no peril inne
And of hir song right with that word she stente
And therwith-al 'Now nece' quod Criseyde
'Who made this song with so good entente
Antigone answerde anoon and seyde
'Ma dame y-wis the goodlieste mayde
Of greet estat in al the toun of Troye
And let hir lyf in most honour and Ioye
'Forsothe so it semeth by hir song
Quod tho Criseyde and gan ther-with to syke
And seyde 'Lord is there swich blisse among
These lovers as they conne faire endyte
'Ye wis' quod freshe Antigone the whyte
'For alle the folk that han or been on lyve
Ne conne wel the blisse of love discryve
'But wene ye that every wrecche woot
The parfit blisse of love Why nay y-wis
They wenen al be love if oon be hoot
Do wey do wey they woot no-thing of this
Men mosten axe at seyntes if it is
Aught fair in hevene Why For they conne telle
And axen fendes is it foul in helle
Criseyde un-to that purpos nought answerde
But seyde 'Y-wis it wol be night as faste
But every word which that she of hir herde
She gan to prenten in hir herte faste
And ay gan love hir lasse for to agaste
Than it dide erst and sinken in hir herte
That she wex somwhat able to converte
The dayes honour and the hevenes ye
The nightes fo al this clepe I the sonne
Gan westren faste and dounward for to wrye
As he that hadde his dayes cours y-ronne
And whyte thinges wexen dimme and donne
For lak of light and sterres for to appere
That she and al hir folk in wente y-fere
So whan it lyked hir to goon to reste
And voyded weren they that voyden oughte
She seyde that to slepe wel hir leste
Hir wommen sone til hir bed hir broughte
Whan al was hust than lay she stille and thoughte
Of al this thing the manere and the wyse
Reherce it nedeth nought for ye ben wyse
A nightingale upon a cedre grene
Under the chambre-wal ther as she lay
Ful loude sang ayein the mone shene
Paraunter in his briddes wyse a lay
Of love that made hir herte fresh and gay
That herkned she so longe in good entente
Til at the laste the dede sleep hir hente
And as she sleep anoon-right tho hir mette
How that an egle fethered whyt as boon
Under hir brest his longe clawes sette
And out hir herte he rente and that a-noon
And dide his herte in-to hir brest to goon
Of which she nought agroos ne no-thing smerte
And forth he fleigh with herte left for herte
Now lat hir slepe and we our tales holde
Of Troilus that is to paleys riden
Fro the scarmuch of the whiche I tolde
And in his chaumbre sit and hath abiden
Til two or three of his messages yeden
For Pandarus and soughten him ful faste
Til they him founde and broughte him at the laste
This Pandarus com leping in at ones
And seiyde thus 'Who hath ben wel y-bete
To-day with swerdes and with slinge-stones
But Troilus that hath caught him an hete
And gan to Iape and seyde 'Lord so ye swete
But rys and lat us soupe and go to reste
And he answerde him 'Do we as thee leste
With al the haste goodly that they mighte
They spedde hem fro the souper un-to bedde
And every wight out at the dore him dighte
And wher him liste upon his wey him spedde
But Troilus that thoughte his herte bledde
For wo til that he herde som tydinge
He seyde 'Freend shal I now wepe or singe
Quod Pandarus 'Ly stille and lat me slepe
And don thyn hood thy nedes spedde be
And chese if thou wolt singe or daunce or lepe
At shorte wordes thow shal trowe me  
Sire my nece wol do wel by thee
And love thee best by god and by my trouthe
But lak of pursuit make it in thy slouthe
'For thus ferforth I have thy work bigonne
Fro day to day til this day by the morwe
Hir love of freendship have I to thee wonne
And also hath she leyd hir feyth to borwe
Algate a foot is hameled of thy sorwe
What sholde I lenger sermon of it holde
As ye han herd bifore al he him tolde
But right as floures thorugh the colde of night
Y-closed stoupen on hir stalke lowe
Redressen hem a-yein the sonne bright
And spreden on hir kinde cours by rowe
Right so gan tho his eyen up to throwe
This Troilus and seyde 'O Venus dere
Thy might thy grace y-heried be it here
And to Pandare he held up bothe his hondes
And seyde 'Lord al thyn be that I have
For I am hool al brosten been my bondes
A thousand Troians who so that me yave
Eche after other god so wis me save
Ne mighte me so gladen lo myn herte
It spredeth so for Ioye it wol to-sterte
'But Lord how shal I doon how shal I liven
Whan shal I next my dere herte see
How shal this longe tyme a-wey be driven
Til that thou be ayein at hir fro me
Thou mayst answere A-byd a-byd but he
That hangeth by the nekke sooth to seyne
In grete disese abydeth for the peyne
'Al esily now for the love of Marte
Quod Pandarus 'for every thing hath tyme
So longe abyd til that the night departe
For al so siker as thow lyst here by me
And god toforn I wol be there at pryme
And for thy werk somwhat as I shal seye
Or on som other wight this charge leye
'For pardee god wot I have ever yit
Ben redy thee to serve and to this night
Have I nought fayned but emforth my wit
Don al thy lust and shal with al my might
Do now as I shal seye and fare a-right
And if thou nilt wyte al thy-self thy care
On me is nought along thyn yvel fare
'I woot wel that thow wyser art than I
A thousand fold but if I were as thou
God help me so as I wolde outrely
Right of myn owene hond wryte hir right now
A lettre in which I wolde hir tellen how
I ferde amis and hir beseche of routhe
Now help thy-self and leve it not for slouthe
'And I my-self shal ther-with to hir goon
And whan thou wost that I am with hir there
Worth thou up-on a courser right anoon
Ye hardily right in thy beste gere
And ryd forth by the place as nought ne were
And thou shalt finde us if I may sittinge
At som windowe in-to the strete lokinge
'And if thee list than maystow us saluwe
And up-on me make thy contenaunce
But by thy lyf be war and faste eschuwe
To tarien ought god shilde us fro mischaunce
Ryd forth thy wey and hold thy governaunce
And we shal speke of thee som-what I trowe
Whan Thou art goon to do thyne eres glowe
'Touching thy lettre thou art wys y-nough
I woot thow nilt it digneliche endyte
As make it with thise argumentes tough
Ne scrivenish or craftily thou it wryte
Beblotte it with thy teres eek a lyte
And if thou wryte a goodly word al softe
Though it be good reherce it not to ofte
'For though the beste harpour upon lyve
Wolde on the beste souned Ioly harpe
That ever was with alle his fingres fyve
Touche ay o streng or ay o werbul harpe
Were his nayles poynted never so sharpe
It shulde maken every wight to dulle
To here his glee and of his strokes fulle
'Ne Iompre eek no discordaunt thing y-fere
As thus to usen termes of phisyk
In loves termes hold of thy matere
The forme alwey and do that it be lyk
For if a peyntour wolde peynte a pyk
With asses feet and hede it as an ape
It cordeth nought so nere it but a Iape
This counseyl lyked wel to Troilus
But as a dreedful lover he seyde this  
'Allas my dere brother Pandarus
I am ashamed for to wryte y-wis
Lest of myn innocence I seyde a-mis
Or that she nolde it for despyt receyve
Thanne were I deed ther mighte it no-thing weyve
To that Pandare answerde 'If thee lest
Do that I seye and lat me therwith goon
For by that lord that formed est and west
I hope of it to bringe answere anoon
Right of hir hond and if that thou nilt noon
Lat be and sory mote he been his lyve
Ayeins thy lust that helpeth thee to thryve
Quod Troilus 'Depardieux I assente
Sin that thee list I will aryse and wryte
And blisful god preye ich with good entente
The vyage and the lettre I shal endyte
So spede it and thou Minerva the whyte
Yif thou me wit my lettre to devyse
And sette him doun and wroot right in this wyse  
First he gan hir his righte lady calle
His hertes lyf his lust his sorwes leche
His blisse and eek these othere termes alle
That in swich cas these loveres alle seche
And in ful humble wyse as in his speche
He gan him recomaunde un-to hir grace
To telle al how it axeth muchel space
And after this ful lowly he hir prayde
To be nought wrooth though he of his folye
So hardy was to hir to wryte and seyde
That love it made or elles moste he dye
And pitously gan mercy for to crye
And after that he seyde and ley ful loude
Him-self was litel worth and lesse he coude
And that she sholde han his conning excused
That litel was and eek he dredde hir so
And his unworthinesse he ay acused
And after that than gan he telle his woo
But that was endeles with-outen ho
And seyde he wolde in trouthe alwey him holde  
And radde it over and gan the lettre folde
And with his salte teres gan he bathe
The ruby in his signet and it sette
Upon the wex deliverliche and rathe
Ther-with a thousand tymes er he lette
He kiste tho the lettre that he shette
And seyde 'Lettre a blisful destenee
Thee shapen is my lady shal thee see
This Pandare took the lettre and that by tyme
A-morwe and to his neces paleys sterte
And faste he swoor that it was passed pryme
And gan to Iape and seyde 'Y-wis myn herte
So fresh it is al-though it sore smerte
I may not slepe never a Mayes morwe
I have a Ioly wo a lusty sorwe
Criseyde whan that she hir uncle herde
With dreedful herte and desirous to here
The cause of his cominge thus answerde
'Now by your feyth myn uncle' quod she 'dere
What maner windes gydeth yow now here
Tel us your Ioly wo and your penaunce
How ferforth be ye put in loves daunce
'By god' quod he 'I hoppe alwey bihinde
And she to-laugh it thoughte hir herte breste
Quod Pandarus 'Loke alwey that ye finde
Game in myn hood but herkneth if yow leste
Ther is right now come in-to toune a geste
A Greek espye and telleth newe thinges
For which I come to telle yow tydinges
'Into the gardin go we and we shal here
Al prevely of this a long sermoun
With that they wenten arm in arm y-fere
In-to the gardin from the chaumbre doun
And whan that he so fer was that the soun
Of that he speke no man here mighte
He seyde hir thus and out the lettre plighte
'Lo he that is al hoolly youres free
Him recomaundeth lowly to your grace
And sent to you this lettre here by me
Avyseth you on it whan ye han space
And of som goodly answere yow purchace
Or helpe me god so pleynly for to seyne
He may not longe liven for his peyne
Ful dredfully tho gan she stonde stille
And took it nought but al hir humble chere
Gan for to chaunge and seyde 'Scrit ne bille
For love of god that toucheth swich matere
Ne bring me noon and also uncle dere
To myn estat have more reward I preye
Than to his lust what sholde I more seye
'And loketh now if this be resonable
And letteth nought for favour ne for slouthe
To seyn a sooth now were it covenable
To myn estat by god and by your trouthe
To taken it or to han of him routhe
In harming of my-self or in repreve
Ber it a-yein for him that ye on leve
This Pandarus gan on hir for to stare
And seyde 'Now is this the grettest wonder
That ever I sey Lat be this nyce fare
To deethe mote I smiten be with thonder
If for the citee which that stondeth yonder
Wolde I a lettre un-to yow bringe or take
To harm of yow what list yow thus it make
'But thus ye faren wel neigh alle and some
That he that most desireth yow to serve
Of him ye recche leest wher he bicome
And whether that he live or elles sterve
But for al that that ever I may deserve
Refuse it nought' quod he and hente hir faste
And in hir bosom the lettre doun he thraste
And seyde hire 'Now cast it awey anoon
That folk may seen and gauren on us tweye
Quod she 'I can abyde til they be goon
And gan to smyle and seyde hym 'Eem I preye
Swich answere as yow list your-self purveye
For trewely I nil no lettre wryte
'No than wol I' quod he 'so ye endyte
Therwith she lough and seyde 'Go we dyne
And he gan at him-self to iape faste
And seyde 'Nece I have so greet a pyne
For love that every other day I faste'  
And gan his beste Iapes forth to caste
And made hir so to laughe at his folye
That she for laughter wende for to dye
And whan that she was comen in-to halle
'Now eem' quod she 'we wol go dine anoon
And gan some of hir women to hir calle
And streyght in-to hir chaumbre gan she goon
But of hir besinesses this was oon
A-monges othere thinges out of drede
Ful prively this lettre for to rede
Avysed word by word in every lyne
And fond no lak she thoughte he coude good
And up it putte and went hir in to dyne
But Pandarus that in a study stood
Er he was war she took him by the hood
And seyde 'Ye were caught er that ye wiste
'I vouche sauf' quod he 'do what yow liste
Tho wesshen they and sette hem doun and ete
And after noon ful sleyly Pandarus
Gan drawe him to the window next the strete
And seyde 'Nece who hath arayed thus
The yonder hous that stant afor-yeyn us
'Which hous' quod she and gan for to biholde
And knew it wel and whos it was him tolde
And fillen forth in speche of thinges smale
And seten in the window bothe tweye
Whan Pandarus saw tyme un-to his tale
And saw wel that hir folk were alle aweye
'Now nece myn tel on' quod he 'I seye
How liketh yow the lettre that ye woot
Can he ther-on For by my trouthe I noot
Therwith al rosy hewed tho wex she
And gan to humme and seyde 'So I trowe
'Aquyte him wel for goddes love' quod he
'My-self to medes wol the lettre sowe
And held his hondes up and sat on knowe
'Now goode nece be it never so lyte
Yif me the labour it to sowe and plyte
'Ye for I can so wryte' quod she tho
'And eek I noot what I sholde to him seye
'Nay nece' quod Pandare 'sey nat so
Yet at the leste thanketh him I preye
Of his good wil and doth him not to deye
Now for the love of me my nece dere
Refuseth not at this tyme my preyere
'Depar-dieux' quod she 'God leve al be wel
God help me so this is the firste lettre
That ever I wroot ye al or any del
And in-to a closet for to avyse hir bettre
She wente allone and gan hir herte unfettre
Out of disdaynes prison but a lyte
And sette hir doun and gan a lettre wryte
Of which to telle in short is myn entente
Theffect as fer as I can understonde  
She thonked him of al that he wel mente
Towardes hir but holden him in honde
She nolde nought ne make hir-selven bonde
In love but as his suster him to plese
She wolde fayn to doon his herte an ese
She shette it and to Pandarus in gan goon
There as he sat and loked in-to the strete
And doun she sette hir by him on a stoon
Of Iaspre up-on a quisshin gold y-bete
And seyde 'As wisly helpe me god the grete
I never dide a thing with more peyne
Than wryte this to which ye me constreyne
And took it him He thonked hir and seyde
'God woot of thing ful ofte looth bigonne
Cometh ende good and nece myn Criseyde
That ye to him of hard now ben y-wonne
Oughte he be glad by god and yonder sonne
For-why men seyth Impressiounes lighte
Ful lightly been ay redy to the flighte
'But ye han pleyed tyraunt neigh to longe
And hard was it your herte for to grave
Now stint that ye no longer on it honge
Al wolde ye the forme of daunger save
But hasteth yow to doon him Ioye have
For trusteth wel to longe y-doon hardnesse
Causeth despyt ful often for destresse
And right as they declamed this matere
Lo Troilus right at the stretes ende
Com ryding with his tenthe some y-fere
Al softely and thiderward gan bende
Ther-as they sete as was his way to wende
To paleys-ward and Pandare him aspyde
And seyde 'Nece y-see who cometh here ryde
'O flee not in he seeth us I suppose
Lest he may thinke that ye him eschuwe
'Nay nay' quod she and wex as reed as rose
With that he gan hir humbly to saluwe
With dreedful chere and oft his hewes muwe
And up his look debonairly he caste
And bekked on Pandare and forth he paste
God woot if he sat on his hors a-right
Or goodly was beseyn that ilke day
God woot wher he was lyk a manly knight
What sholde I drecche or telle of his aray
Criseyde which that alle these thinges say
To telle in short hir lyked al y-fere
His persone his aray his look his chere
His goodly manere and his gentillesse
So wel that never sith that she was born
Ne hadde she swich routhe of his distresse
And how-so she hath hard ben her-biforn
To god hope I she hath now caught a thorn
She shal not pulle it out this nexte wyke
God sende mo swich thornes on to pyke
Pandare which that stood hir faste by
Felte iren hoot and he bigan to smyte
And seyde 'Nece I pray yow hertely
Tel me that I shal axen yow a lyte
A womman that were of his deeth to wyte
With-outen his gilt but for hir lakked routhe
Were it wel doon' Quod she 'Nay by my trouthe
'God help me so' quod he 'ye sey me sooth
Ye felen wel your-self that I not lye
Lo yond he rit' Quod she 'Ye so he dooth
'Wel' quod Pandare 'as I have told yow thrye
Lat be youre nyce shame and youre folye
And spek with him in esing of his herte
Lat nycetee not do yow bothe smerte
But ther-on was to heven and to done
Considered al thing it may not be
And why for shame and it were eek to sone
To graunten him so greet a libertee
'For playnly hir entente' as seyde she
'Was for to love him unwist if she mighte
And guerdon him with no-thing but with sighte
But Pandarus thoughte 'It shal not be so
If that I may this nyce opinioun
Shal not be holden fully yeres two
What sholde I make of this a long sermoun
He moste assente on that conclusioun
As for the tyme and whan that it was eve
And al was wel he roos and took his leve
And on his wey ful faste homward he spedde
And right for Ioye he felte his herte daunce
And Troilus he fond alone a-bedde
That lay as dooth these loveres in a traunce
Bitwixen hope and derk desesperaunce
But Pandarus right at his in-cominge
He song as who seyth 'Lo Sumwhat I bringe
And seyde 'Who is in his bed so sone
Y-buried thus' 'It am I freend' quod he
'Who Troilus Nay helpe me so the mone
Quod Pandarus 'Thou shalt aryse and see
A charme that was sent right now to thee
The which can helen thee of thyn accesse
If thou do forth-with al thy besinesse
'Ye through the might of god' quod Troilus
And Pandarus gan him the lettre take
And seyde 'Pardee god hath holpen us
Have here a light and loke on al this blake
But ofte gan the herte glade and quake
Of Troilus whyl that he gan it rede
So as the wordes yave him hope or drede
But fynally he took al for the beste
That she him wroot for somwhat he biheld
On which him thoughte he mighte his herte reste
Al covered she the wordes under sheld
Thus to the more worthy part he held
That what for hope and Pandarus biheste
His grete wo for-yede he at the leste
But as we may alday our-selven see
Through more wode or col the more fyr
Right so encrees hope of what it be
Therwith ful ofte encreseth eek desyr
Or as an ook cometh of a litel spyr
So through this lettre which that she him sente
Encresen gan desyr of which he brente
Wherfore I seye alwey that day and night
This Troilus gan to desiren more
Than he dide erst thurgh hope and dide his might
To pressen on as by Pandarus lore
And wryten to hir of his sorwes sore
Fro day to day he leet it not refreyde
That by Pandare he wroot somwhat or seyde
And dide also his othere observaunces
That to a lovere longeth in this cas
And after that these dees turnede on chaunces
So was he outher glad or seyde 'Allas
And held after his gestes ay his pas
And aftir swiche answeres as he hadde
So were his dayes sory outher gladde
But to Pandare alwey was his recours
And pitously gan ay til him to pleyne
And him bisoughte of rede and som socours
And Pandarus that sey his wode peyne
Wex wel neigh deed for routhe sooth to seyne
And bisily with al his herte caste
Som of his wo to sleen and that as faste
And seyde 'Lord and freend and brother dere
God woot that thy disese dooth me wo
But woltow stinten al this woful chere
And by my trouthe or it be dayes two
And god to-forn yet shal I shape it so
That thou shalt come in-to a certayn place
Ther-as thou mayst thy-self hir preye of grace
'And certainly I noot if thou it wost
But tho that been expert in love it seye
It is oon of the thinges that furthereth most
A man to have a leyser for to preye
And siker place his wo for to biwreye
For in good herte it moot som routhe impresse
To here and see the giltles in distresse
'Paraunter thenkestow though it be so
That kinde wolde doon hir to biginne
To han a maner routhe up-on my wo
Seyth Daunger Nay thou shalt me never winne
So reuleth hir hir hertes goost with-inne
That though she bende yet she stant on rote
What in effect is this un-to my bote
'Thenk here-ayeins whan that the sturdy ook
On which men hakketh ofte for the nones
Receyved hath the happy falling strook
The grete sweigh doth it come al at ones
As doon these rokkes or these milne-stones
For swifter cours cometh thing that is of wighte
Whan it descendeth than don thinges lighte
'And reed that boweth doun for every blast
Ful lightly cesse wind it wol aryse
But so nil not an ook whan it is cast
It nedeth me nought thee longe to forbyse
Men shal reioysen of a greet empryse
Acheved wel and stant with-outen doute
Al han men been the lenger ther-aboute
'But Troilus yet tel me if thee lest
A thing now which that I shal axen thee
Which is thy brother that thou lovest best
As in thy verray hertes privetee
'Y-wis my brother Deiphebus' quod he
'Now' quod Pandare 'er houres twyes twelve
He shal thee ese unwist of it him-selve
'Now lat me allone and werken as I may
Quod he and to Deiphebus wente he tho
Which hadde his lord and grete freend ben ay
Save Troilus no man he lovede so
To telle in short with-outen wordes mo
Quod Pandarus 'I pray yow that ye be
Freend to a cause which that toucheth me
'Yis pardee' quod Deiphebus 'wel thow wost
In al that ever I may and god to-fore
Al nere it but for man I love most
My brother Troilus but sey wherfore
It is for sith that day that I was bore
I nas ne never-mo to been I thinke
Ayeins a thing that mighte thee for-thinke
Pandare gan him thonke and to him seyde
'Lo sire I have a lady in this toun
That is my nece and called is Criseyde
Which some men wolden doon oppressioun
And wrongfully have hir possessioun
Wherfor I of your lordship yow biseche
To been our freend with-oute more speche
Deiphebus him answerde 'O is not this
That thow spekest of to me thus straungely
Criseyda my freend' He seyde 'Yis
'Than nedeth' quod Deiphebus 'hardely
Na-more to speke for trusteth wel that I
Wol be hir champioun with spore and yerde
I roughte nought though alle hir foos it herde
'But tel me how thou that woost al this matere
How I might best avaylen Now lat see
Quod Pandarus 'If ye my lord so dere
Wolden as now don this honour to me
To preyen hir to-morwe lo that she
Come un-to yow hir pleyntes to devyse
Hir adversaries wolde of it agryse
'And if I more dorste preye as now
And chargen yow to have so greet travayle
To han som of your bretheren here with yow
That mighten to hir cause bet avayle
Than woot I wel she mighte never fayle
For to be holpen what at your instaunce
What with hir othere freendes governaunce
Deiphebus which that comen was of kinde
To al honour and bountee to consente
Answerde 'It shal be doon and I can finde
Yet gretter help to this in myn entente
What wolt thow seyn if I for Eleyne sente
To speke of this I trowe it be the beste
For she may leden Paris as hir leste
'Of Ector which that is my lord my brother
It nedeth nought to preye him freend to be
For I have herd him o tyme and eek other
Speke of Criseyde swich honour that he
May seyn no bet swich hap to him hath she
It nedeth nought his helpes for to crave
He shal be swich right as we wole him have
'Spek thou thy-self also to Troilus
On my bihalve and pray him with us dyne
'Sire al this shal be doon' quod Pandarus
And took his leve and never gan to fyne
But to his neces hous as streyt as lyne
He com and fond hir fro the mete aryse
And sette him doun and spak right in this wyse
He seyde 'O veray god so have I ronne
Lo nece myn see ye nought how I swete
I noot whether ye the more thank me conne
Be ye nought war how that fals Poliphete
Is now aboute eft-sones for to plete
And bringe on yow advocacyes newe
'I No' quod she and chaunged al hir hewe
'What is he more aboute me to drecche
And doon me wrong What shal I do allas
Yet of him-self no-thing ne wolde I recche
Nere it for Antenor and Eneas
That been his freendes in swich maner cas
But for the love of god myn uncle dere
No fors of that lat him have al y-fere
'With-outen that I have ynough for us
'Nay' quod Pandare 'it shal no-thing be so
For I have been right now at Deiphebus
And Ector and myne othere lordes mo
And shortly maked eche of hem his fo
That by my thrift he shal it never winne
For ought he can whan that so he biginne
And as they casten what was best to done
Deiphebus of his owene curtasye
Com hir to preye in his propre persone
To holde him on the morwe companye
At diner which she nolde not denye
But goodly gan to his preyere obeye
He thonked hir and wente up-on his weye
Whanne this was doon this Pandare up a-noon
To telle in short and forth gan for to wende
To Troilus as stille as any stoon
And al this thing he tolde him word and ende
And how that he Deiphebus gan to blende
And seyde him 'Now is tyme if that thou conne
To bere thee wel to-morwe and al is wonne
'Now spek now prey now pitously compleyne
Lat not for nyce shame or drede or slouthe
Som-tyme a man mot telle his owene peyne
Bileve it and she shal han on thee routhe
Thou shalt be saved by thy feyth in trouthe
But wel wot I thou art now in a drede
And what it is I leye I can arede
'Thow thinkest now How sholde I doon al this
For by my cheres mosten folk aspye
That for hir love is that I fare a-mis
Yet hadde I lever unwist for sorwe dye
Now thenk not so for thou dost greet folye
For I right now have founden o manere
Of sleighte for to coveren al thy chere
'Thow shalt gon over night and that as blyve
Un-to Deiphebus hous as thee to pleye
Thy maladye a-wey the bet to dryve
For-why thou semest syk soth for to seye
Sone after that doun in thy bed thee leye
And sey thow mayst no lenger up endure
And ly right there and byde thyn aventure
'Sey that thy fever is wont thee for to take
The same tyme and lasten til a-morwe
And lat see now how wel thou canst it make
For par-dee syk is he that is in sorwe
Go now farwel And Venus here to borwe
I hope and thou this purpos holde ferme
Thy grace she shal fully ther conferme
Quod Troilus 'Y-wis thou nedelees
Conseylest me that sykliche I me feyne
For I am syk in ernest doutelees
So that wel neigh I sterve for the peyne
Quod Pandarus 'Thou shalt the bettre pleyne
And hast the lasse need to countrefete
For him men demen hoot that men seen swete
'Lo holde thee at thy triste cloos and I
Shal wel the deer un-to thy bowe dryve
Therwith he took his leve al softely
And Troilus to paleys wente blyve
So glad ne was he never in al his lyve
And to Pandarus reed gan al assente
And to Deiphebus hous at night he wente
What nedeth yow to tellen al the chere
That Deiphebus un-to his brother made
Or his accesse or his siklych manere
How men gan him with clothes for to lade
Whan he was leyd and how men wolde him glade
But al for nought he held forth ay the wyse
That ye han herd Pandare er this devyse
But certeyn is er Troilus him leyde
Deiphebus had him prayed over night
To been a freend and helping to Criseyde
God woot that he it grauntede anon-right
To been hir fulle freend with al his might
But swich a nede was to preye him thenne
As for to bidde a wood man for to renne
The morwen com and neighen gan the tyme
Of meel-tyd that the faire quene Eleyne
Shoop hir to been an houre after the pryme
With Deiphebus to whom she nolde feyne
But as his suster hoomly sooth to seyne
She com to diner in hir playn entente
But god and Pandare wiste al what this mente
Com eek Criseyde al innocent of this
Antigone hir sister Tarbe also
But flee we now prolixitee best is
For love of god and lat us faste go
Right to the effect with-oute tales mo
Why al this folk assembled in this place
And lat us of hir saluinges pace
Gret honour dide hem Deiphebus certeyn
And fedde hem wel with al that mighte lyke
But ever-more 'Allas' was his refreyn
'My goode brother Troilus the syke
Lyth yet and therwith-al he gan to syke
And after that he peyned him to glade
Hem as he mighte and chere good he made
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
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
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
'Tel thou thy neces cas' quod Deiphebus
To Pandarus 'for thou canst best it telle'  
'My lordes and my ladyes it stant thus
What sholde I lenger' quod he 'do yow dwelle
He rong hem out a proces lyk a belle
Up-on hir fo that highte Poliphete
So heynous that men mighte on it spete
Answerde of this ech worse of hem than other
And Poliphete they gonnen thus to warien
'An-honged be swich oon were he my brother
And so he shal for it ne may not varien
What sholde I lenger in this tale tarien
Pleynly alle at ones they hir highten
To been hir helpe in al that ever they mighten
Spak than Eleyne and seyde 'Pandarus
Woot ought my lord my brother this matere
I mene Ector Or woot it Troilus
He seyde 'Ye but wole ye now me here
Me thinketh this sith Troilus is here
It were good if that ye wolde assente
She tolde hir-self him al this er she wente
'For he wole have the more hir grief at herte
By cause lo that she a lady is
And by your leve I wol but right in sterte
And do yow wite and that anoon y-wis
If that he slepe or wole ought here of this
And in he lepte and seyde him in his ere
'God have thy soule y-brought have I thy bere
To smylen of this gan tho Troilus
And Pandarus with-oute rekeninge
Out wente anoon to Eleyne and Deiphebus
And seyde hem 'So there be no taryinge
Ne more pres he wol wel that ye bringe
Criseyda my lady that is here
And as he may enduren he wole here
'But wel ye woot the chaumbre is but lyte
And fewe folk may lightly make it warm
Now loketh ye for I wol have no wyte
To bringe in prees that mighte doon him harm
Or him disesen for my bettre arm
Wher it be bet she byde til eft-sones
Now loketh ye that knowen what to doon is
'I sey for me best is as I can knowe
That no wight in ne wente but ye tweye
But it were I for I can in a throwe
Reherce hir cas unlyk that she can seye
And after this she may him ones preye
To ben good lord in short and take hir leve
This may not muchel of his ese him reve
'And eek for she is straunge he wol forbere
His ese which that him thar nought for yow
Eek other thing that toucheth not to here
He wol me telle I woot it wel right now
That secret is and for the tounes prow
And they that no-thing knewe of his entente
With-oute more to Troilus in they wente
Eleyne in al hir goodly softe wyse
Gan him saluwe and womanly to pleye
And seyde 'Ywis ye moste alweyes aryse
Now fayre brother beth al hool I preye
And gan hir arm right over his sholder leye
And him with al hir wit to recomforte
As she best coude she gan him to disporte
So after this quod she 'We yow biseke
My dere brother Deiphebus and I
For love of god and so doth Pandare eke
To been good lord and freend right hertely
Un-to Criseyde which that certeinly
Receyveth wrong as woot wel here Pandare
That can hir cas wel bet than I declare
This Pandarus gan newe his tunge affyle
And al hir cas reherce and that anoon
Whan it was seyd sone after in a whyle
Quod Troilus 'As sone as I may goon
I wol right fayn with al my might ben oon
Have god my trouthe hir cause to sustene
'Good thrift have ye' quod Eleyne the quene
Quod Pandarus 'And it your wille be
That she may take hir leve er that she go
'O elles god for-bede' tho quod he
'If that she vouche sauf for to do so
And with that word quod Troilus 'Ye two
Deiphebus and my suster leef and dere
To yow have I to speke of o matere
'To been avysed by your reed the bettre'  
And fond as hap was at his beddes heed
The copie of a tretis and a lettre
That Ector hadde him sent to axen reed
If swich a man was worthy to ben deed
Woot I nought who but in a grisly wyse
He preyede hem anoon on it avyse
Deiphebus gan this lettre to unfolde
In ernest greet so did Eleyne the quene
And rominge outward fast it gan biholde
Downward a steyre in-to an herber grene
This ilke thing they redden hem bi-twene
And largely the mountaunce of an houre
Thei gonne on it to reden and to poure
Now lat hem rede and turne we anoon
To Pandarus that gan ful faste prye
That al was wel and out he gan to goon
In-to the grete chambre and that in hye
And seyde 'God save al this companye
Com nece myn my lady quene Eleyne
Abydeth yow and eek my lordes tweyne
'Rys take with yow your nece Antigone
Or whom yow list or no fors hardily
The lesse prees the bet com forth with me
And loke that ye thonke humblely
Hem alle three and whan ye may goodly
Your tyme y-see taketh of hem your leve
Lest we to longe his restes him bireve
Al innocent of Pandarus entente
Quod tho Criseyde 'Go we uncle dere'
And arm in arm inward with him she wente
Avysed wel hir wordes and hir chere
And Pandarus in ernestful manere
Seyde 'Alle folk for goddes love I preye
Stinteth right here and softely yow pleye
'Aviseth yow what folk ben here with-inne
And in what plyt oon is god him amende
And inward thus ful softely biginne
Nece I conjure and heighly yow defende
On his half which that sowle us alle sende
And in the vertue of corounes tweyne
Slee nought this man that hath for yow this peyne
'Fy on the devel Thenk which oon he is
And in what plyt he lyth com of anoon
Thenk al swich taried tyd but lost it nis
That wol ye bothe seyn whan ye ben oon
Secoundelich ther yet devyneth noon
Up-on yow two come of now if ye conne
Whyl folk is blent lo al the tyme is wonne
'In titering and pursuite and delayes
The folk devyne at wagginge of a stree
And though ye wolde han after merye dayes
Than dar ye nought and why For she and she
Spak swich a word thus loked he and he
Lest tyme I loste I dar not with yow dele
Com of therfore and bringeth him to hele
But now to yow ye lovers that ben here
Was Troilus nought in a cankedort
That lay and mighte whispringe of hem here
And thoughte 'O lord right now renneth my sort
Fully to dye or han anoon comfort'
And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preye
Of love O mighty god what shal he seye
O blisful light of whiche the bemes clere
Adorneth al the thridde hevene faire
O sonnes lief O Ioves doughter dere
Plesaunce of love O goodly debonaire
In gentil hertes ay redy to repaire
O verray cause of hele and of gladnesse
Y-heried be thy might and thy goodnesse
In hevene and helle in erthe and salte see
Is felt thy might if that I wel descerne
As man brid best fish herbe and grene tree
Thee fele in tymes with vapour eterne
God loveth and to love wol nought werne
And in this world no lyves creature
With-outen love is worth or may endure
Ye Ioves first to thilke effectes glade
Thorugh which that thinges liven alle and be
Comeveden and amorous him made
On mortal thing and as yow list ay ye
Yeve him in love ese or adversitee
And in a thousand formes doun him sente
For love in erthe and whom yow liste he hente
Ye fierse Mars apeysen of his ire
And as yow list ye maken hertes digne
Algates hem that ye wol sette a-fyre
They dreden shame and vices they resigne
Ye do hem corteys be fresshe and benigne
And hye or lowe after a wight entendeth
The Ioyes that he hath your might him sendeth
Ye holden regne and hous in unitee
Ye soothfast cause of frendship been also
Ye knowe al thilke covered qualitee
Of thinges which that folk on wondren so
Whan they can not construe how it may io
She loveth him or why he loveth here
As why this fish and nought that comth to were
Ye folk a lawe han set in universe
And this knowe I by hem that loveres be
That who-so stryveth with yow hath the werse
Now lady bright for thy benignitee
At reverence of hem that serven thee
Whos clerk I am so techeth me devyse
Som Ioye of that is felt in thy servyse
Ye in my naked herte sentement
Inhelde and do me shewe of thy swetnesse  
Caliope thy vois be now present
For now is nede sestow not my destresse
How I mot telle anon-right the gladnesse
Of Troilus to Venus heryinge
To which gladnes who nede hath god him bringe
Lay al this mene whyle Troilus
Recordinge his lessoun in this manere
'Ma fey' thought he 'Thus wole I seye and thus
Thus wole I pleyne unto my lady dere
That word is good and this shal be my chere
This nil I not foryeten in no wyse
God leve him werken as he can devyse
And lord so that his herte gan to quappe
Heringe hir come and shorte for to syke
And Pandarus that ledde hir by the lappe
Com ner and gan in at the curtin pyke
And seyde 'God do bote on alle syke
See who is here yow comen to visyte
Lo here is she that is your deeth to wyte
Ther-with it semed as he wepte almost
'A ha' quod Troilus so rewfully
'Wher me be wo O mighty god thow wost
Who is al there I se nought trewely
'Sire' quod Criseyde 'it is Pandare and I
'Ye swete herte Allas I may nought ryse
To knele and do yow honour in som wyse
And dressede him upward and she right tho
Gan bothe here hondes softe upon him leye
'O for the love of god do ye not so
To me' quod she 'Ey What is this to seye
Sire come am I to yow for causes tweye
First yow to thonke and of your lordshipe eke
Continuance I wolde yow biseke
This Troilus that herde his lady preye
Of lordship him wex neither quik ne deed
Ne mighte a word for shame to it seye
Al-though men sholde smyten of his heed
But lord so he wex sodeinliche reed
And sire his lesson that he wende conne
To preyen hir is thurgh his wit y-ronne
Cryseyde al this aspyede wel y-nough
For she was wys and lovede him never-the-lasse
Al nere he malapert or made it tough
Or was to bold to singe a fool a masse
But whan his shame gan somwhat to passe
His resons as I may my rymes holde
I yow wole telle as techen bokes olde
In chaunged vois right for his verray drede
Which vois eek quook and ther-to his manere
Goodly abayst and now his hewes rede
Now pale un-to Criseyde his lady dere
With look doun cast and humble yolden chere
Lo the alderfirste word that him asterte
Was twyes 'Mercy mercy swete herte
And stinte a whyl and whan he mighte out-bringe
The nexte word was 'God wot for I have
As feyfully as I have had konninge
Ben youres also god so my sowle save
And shal til that I woful wight be grave
And though I dar ne can un-to yow pleyne
Y-wis I suffre nought the lasse peyne
'Thus muche as now O wommanliche wyf
I may out-bringe and if this yow displese
That shal I wreke upon myn owne lyf
Right sone I trowe and doon your herte an ese
If with my deeth your herte I may apese
But sin that ye han herd me som-what seye
Now recche I never how sone that I deye
Ther-with his manly sorwe to biholde
It mighte han maad an herte of stoon to rewe
And Pandare weep as he to watre wolde
And poked ever his nece newe and newe
And seyde 'Wo bigon ben hertes trewe
For love of god make of this thing an ende
Or slee us bothe at ones er that ye wende
'I What' quod she 'By god and by my trouthe
I noot nought what ye wilne that I seye
'I What' quod he 'That ye han on him routhe
For goddes love and doth him nought to deye
'Now thanne thus' quod she 'I wolde him preye
To telle me the fyn of his entente
Yet wist I never wel what that he mente
'What that I mene O swete herte dere
Quod Troilus 'O goodly fresshe free
That with the stremes of your eyen clere
Ye wolde som-tyme freendly on me see
And thanne agreen that I may ben he
With-oute braunche of vyce on any wyse
In trouthe alwey to doon yow my servyse
'As to my lady right and chief resort
With al my wit and al my diligence
And I to han right as yow list comfort
Under your yerde egal to myn offence
As deeth if that I breke your defence
And that ye deigne me so muche honoure
Me to comaunden ought in any houre
'And I to ben your verray humble trewe
Secret and in my paynes pacient
And ever-mo desire freshly newe
To serven and been y-lyke ay diligent
And with good herte al holly your talent
Receyven wel how sore that me smerte
Lo this mene I myn owene swete herte
Quod Pandarus 'Lo here an hard request
And resonable a lady for to werne
Now nece myn by natal Ioves fest
Were I a god ye sholde sterve as yerne
That heren wel this man wol no-thing yerne
But your honour and seen him almost sterve
And been so looth to suffren him yow serve
With that she gan hir eyen on him caste
Ful esily and ful debonairly
Avysing hir and hyed not to faste
With never a word but seyde him softely
'Myn honour sauf I wol wel trewely
And in swich forme as he can now devyse
Receyven him fully to my servyse
'Biseching him for goddes love that he
Wolde in honour of trouthe and gentilesse
As I wel mene eek mene wel to me
And myn honour with wit and besinesse
Ay kepe and if I may don him gladnesse
From hennes-forth y-wis I nil not feyne
Now beeth al hool no lenger ye ne pleyne
'But nathelees this warne I yow' quod she
'A kinges sone al-though ye be y-wis
Ye shal na-more have soverainetee
Of me in love than right in that cas is
Ne I nil forbere if that ye doon a-mis
To wrathen yow and whyl that ye me serve
Cherycen yow right after ye deserve
'And shortly dere herte and al my knight
Beth glad and draweth yow to lustinesse
And I shal trewely with al my might
Your bittre tornen al in-to swetenesse
If I be she that may yow do gladnesse
For every wo ye shal recovere a blisse'
And him in armes took and gan him kisse
Fil Pandarus on knees and up his eyen
To hevene threw and held his hondes hye
'Immortal god' quod he 'That mayst nought dyen
Cupide I mene of this mayst glorifye
And Venus thou mayst maken melodye
With-outen hond me semeth that in the towne
For this merveyle I here ech belle sowne
'But ho No more as now of this matere
For-why this folk wol comen up anoon
That han the lettre red lo I hem here
But I coniure thee Criseyde and oon
And two thou Troilus whan thow mayst goon
That at myn hous ye been at my warninge
For I ful wel shal shape youre cominge
'And eseth ther your hertes right y-nough
And lat see which of yow shal bere the belle
To speke of love a-right' ther-with he lough
'For ther have ye a layser for to telle
Quod Troilus 'How longe shal I dwelle
Er this be doon' Quod he 'Whan thou mayst ryse
This thing shal be right as I yow devyse
With that Eleyne and also Deiphebus
Tho comen upward right at the steyres ende
And Lord so than gan grone Troilus
His brother and his suster for to blende
Quod Pandarus 'It tyme is that we wende
Tak nece myn your leve at alle three
And lat hem speke and cometh forth with me
She took hir leve at hem ful thriftily
As she wel coude and they hir reverence
Un-to the fulle diden hardely
And speken wonder wel in hir absence
Of hir in preysing of hir excellence
Hir governaunce hir wit and hir manere
Commendeden it Ioye was to here
Now lat hir wende un-to hir owne place
And torne we to Troilus a-yein
That gan ful lightly of the lettre passe
That Deiphebus hadde in the gardin seyn
And of Eleyne and him he wolde fayn
Delivered been and seyde that him leste
To slepe and after tales have reste
Eleyne him kiste and took hir leve blyve
Deiphebus eek and hoom wente every wight
And Pandarus as faste as he may dryve
To Troilus tho com as lyne right
And on a paillet al that glade night
By Troilus he lay with mery chere
To tale and wel was hem they were y-fere
Whan every wight was voided but they two
And alle the dores were faste y-shette
To telle in short with-oute wordes mo
This Pandarus with-outen any lette
Up roos and on his beddes syde him sette
And gan to speken in a sobre wyse
To Troilus as I shal yow devyse
'Myn alderlevest lord and brother dere
God woot and thou that it sat me so sore
When I thee saw so languisshing to-yere
For love of which thy wo wex alwey more
That I with al my might and al my lore
Have ever sithen doon my bisinesse
To bringe thee to Ioye out of distresse
'And have it brought to swich plyt as thou wost
So that thorugh me thow stondest now in weye
To fare wel I seye it for no bost
And wostow which For shame it is to seye
For thee have I bigonne a gamen pleye
Which that I never doon shal eft for other
Al-though he were a thousand fold my brother
'That is to seye for thee am I bicomen
Bitwixen game and ernest swich a mene
As maken wommen un-to men to comen
Al sey I nought thou wost wel what I mene
For thee have I my nece of vyces clene
So fully maad thy gentilesse triste
That al shal been right as thy-selve liste
'But god that al wot take I to witnesse
That never I this for coveityse wroughte
But only for to abregge that distresse
For which wel nygh thou deydest as me thoughte
But gode brother do now as thee oughte
For goddes love and kep hir out of blame
Sin thou art wys and save alwey hir name
'For wel thou wost the name as yet of here
Among the peple as who seyth halwed is
For that man is unbore I dar wel swere
That ever wiste that she dide amis
But wo is me that I that cause al this
May thenken that she is my nece dere
And I hir eem and trattor eek y-fere
'And were it wist that I through myn engyn
Hadde in my nece y-put this fantasye
To do thy lust and hoolly to be thyn
Why al the world up-on it wolde crye
And seye that I the worste trecherye
Dide in this cas that ever was bigonne
And she for-lost and thou right nought y-wonne
'Wher-fore er I wol ferther goon a pas
Yet eft I thee biseche and fully seye
That privetee go with us in this cas
That is to seye that thou us never wreye
And be nought wrooth though I thee ofte preye
To holden secree swich an heigh matere
For skilful is thow wost wel my preyere
'And thenk what wo ther hath bitid er this
For makinge of avantes as men rede
And what mischaunce in this world yet ther is
Fro day to day right for that wikked dede
For which these wyse clerkes that ben dede
Han ever yet proverbed to us yonge
That Firste vertu is to kepe tonge
'And nere it that I wilne as now tabregge
Diffusioun of speche I coude almost
A thousand olde stories thee alegge
Of wommen lost thorugh fals and foles bost
Proverbes canst thy-self y-nowe and wost
Ayeins that vyce for to been a labbe
Al seyde men sooth as often as they gabbe
'O tonge allas So often here-biforn
Hastow made many a lady bright of hewe
Seyd Welawey The day that I was born
And many a maydes sorwes for to newe
And for the more part al is untrewe
That men of yelpe and it were brought to preve
Of kinde non avauntour is to leve
'Avauntour and a lyere al is on
As thus I pose a womman graunte me
Hir love and seyth that other wol she non
And I am sworn to holden it secree
And after I go telle it two or three
Y-wis I am avauntour at the leste
And lyere for I breke my biheste
'Now loke thanne if they be nought to blame
Swich maner folk what shal I clepe hem what
That hem avaunte of wommen and by name
That never yet bihighte hem this ne that
Ne knewe hem more than myn olde hat
No wonder is so god me sende hele
Though wommen drede with us men to dele
'I sey not this for no mistrust of yow
Ne for no wys man but for foles nyce
And for the harm that in the world is now
As wel for foly ofte as for malyce
For wel wot I in wyse folk that vyce
No womman drat if she be wel avysed
For wyse ben by foles harm chastysed
'But now to purpos leve brother dere
Have al this thing that I have seyd in minde
And keep thee clos and be now of good chere
For at thy day thou shalt me trewe finde
I shal thy proces sette in swich a kinde
And god to-forn that it shall thee suffyse
For it shal been right as thou wolt devyse
'For wel I woot thou menest wel parde
Therfore I dar this fully undertake
Thou wost eek what thy lady graunted thee
And day is set the chartres up to make
Have now good night I may no lenger wake
And bid for me sin thou art now in blisse
That god me sende deeth or sone lisse
Who mighte telle half the Ioye or feste
Which that the sowle of Troilus tho felte
Heringe theffect of Pandarus biheste
His olde wo that made his herte swelte
Gan tho for Ioye wasten and to-melte
And al the richesse of his sykes sore
At ones fledde he felte of hem no more
But right so as these holtes and these hayes
That han in winter dede been and dreye
Revesten hem in grene whan that May is
Whan every lusty lyketh best to pleye
Right in that selve wyse sooth to seye
Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of Ioye
That gladder was ther never man in Troye
And gan his look on Pandarus up caste
Ful sobrely and frendly for to see
And seyde 'Freend in Aprille the laste
As wel thou wost if it remembre thee
How neigh the deeth for wo thou founde me
And how thou didest al thy bisinesse
To knowe of me the cause of my distresse
'Thou wost how longe I it for-bar to seye
To thee that art the man that I best triste
And peril was it noon to thee by-wreye
That wiste I wel but tel me if thee liste
Sith I so looth was that thy-self it wiste
How dorst I mo tellen of this matere
That quake now and no wight may us here
'But natheles by that god I thee swere
That as him list may al this world governe
And if I lye Achilles with his spere
Myn herte cleve al were my lyf eterne
As I am mortal if I late or yerne
Wolde it biwreye or dorste or sholde conne
For al the good that god made under sonne
'That rather deye I wolde and determyne
As thinketh me now stokked in presoun
In wrecchednesse in filthe and in vermyne
Caytif to cruel king Agamenoun
And this in alle the temples of this toun
Upon the goddes alle I wol thee swere
To-morwe day if that thee lyketh here
'And that thou hast so muche y-doon for me
That I ne may it never-more deserve
This knowe I wel al mighte I now for thee
A thousand tymes on a morwen sterve
I can no more but that I wol thee serve
Right as thy sclave whider-so thou wende
For ever-more un-to my lyves ende
'But here with al myn herte I thee biseche
That never in me thou deme swich folye
As I shal seyn me thoughte by thy speche
That this which thou me dost for companye
I sholde wene it were a bauderye
I am nought wood al-if I lewed be
It is not so that woot I wel pardee
'But he that goth for gold or for richesse
On swich message calle him what thee list
And this that thou dost calle it gentilesse
Compassioun and felawship and trist
Departe it so for wyde-where is wist
How that there is dyversitee requered
Bitwixen thinges lyke as I have lered
'And that thou knowe I thenke nought ne wene
That this servyse a shame be or Iape
I have my faire suster Polixene
Cassandre Eleyne or any of the frape
Be she never so faire or wel y-shape
Tel me which thou wilt of everichone
To han for thyn and lat me thanne allone
'But sith that thou hast don me this servyse
My lyf to save and for noon hope of mede
So for the love of god this grete empryse
Performe it out for now is moste nede
For high and low with-outen any drede
I wol alwey thyne hestes alle kepe
Have now good night and lat us bothe slepe
Thus held him ech of other wel apayed
That al the world ne mighte it bet amende
And on the morwe whan they were arayed
Ech to his owene nedes gan entende
But Troilus though as the fyr he brende
For sharp desyr of hope and of plesaunce
He not for-gat his gode governaunce
But in him-self with manhod gan restreyne
Ech rakel dede and ech unbrydled chere
That alle tho that liven sooth to seyne
Ne sholde han wist by word or by manere
What that he mente as touching this matere
From every wight as fer as is the cloude
He was so wel dissimulen he coude
And al the whyl which that I yow devyse
This was his lyf with al his fulle might
By day he was in Martes high servyse
This is to seyn in armes as a knight
And for the more part the longe night
He lay and thoughte how that he mighte serve
His lady best hir thank for to deserve
Nil I nought swere al-though he lay softe
That in his thought he nas sumwhat disesed
Ne that he tornede on his pilwes ofte
And wolde of that him missed han ben sesed
But in swich cas men is nought alwey plesed
For ought I wot no more than was he
That can I deme of possibilitee
But certeyn is to purpos for to go
That in this whyle as writen is in geste
He say his lady som-tyme and also
She with him spak whan that she dorste or leste
And by hir bothe avys as was the beste
Apoynteden ful warly in this nede
So as they dorste how they wolde procede
But it was spoken in so short a wyse
In swich awayt alwey and in swich fere
Lest any wyght devynen or devyse
Wolde of hem two or to it leye an ere
That al this world so leef to hem ne were
As that Cupido wolde hem grace sende
To maken of hir speche aright an ende
But thilke litel that they spake or wroughte
His wyse goost took ay of al swich hede
It semed hir he wiste what she thoughte
With-outen word so that it was no nede
To bidde him ought to done or ought for-bede
For which she thought that love al come it late
Of alle Ioye hadde opned hir the yate
And shortly of this proces for to pace
So wel his werk and wordes he bisette
That he so ful stood in his lady grace
That twenty thousand tymes or she lette
She thonked god she ever with him mette
So coude he him governe in swich servyse
That al the world ne might it bet devyse
For-why she fond him so discreet in al
So secret and of swich obeisaunce
That wel she felte he was to hir a wal
Of steel and sheld from every displesaunce
That to ben in his gode governaunce
So wys he was she was no more afered
I mene as fer as oughte ben requered
And Pandarus to quike alwey the fyr
Was evere y-lyke prest and diligent
To ese his frend was set al his desyr
He shof ay on he to and fro was sent
He lettres bar whan Troilus was absent
That never man as in his freendes nede
Ne bar him bet than he with-outen drede
But now paraunter som man wayten wolde
That every word or sonde or look or chere
Of Troilus that I rehersen sholde
In al this whyle un-to his lady dere
I trowe it were a long thing for to here
Or of what wight that stant in swich disioynte
His wordes alle or every look to poynte
For sothe I have not herd it doon er this
In storye noon ne no man here I wene
And though I wolde I coude not y-wis
For ther was som epistel hem bitwene
That wolde as seyth myn auctor wel contene
Neigh half this book of which him list not wryte
How sholde I thanne a lyne of it endyte
But to the grete effect than sey I thus
That stonding in concord and in quiete
Thise ilke two Criseyde and Troilus
As I have told and in this tyme swete
Save only often mighte they not mete
Ne layser have hir speches to fulfelle
That it befel right as I shal yow telle
That Pandarus that ever dide his might
Right for the fyn that I shal speke of here
As for to bringe to his hous som night
His faire nece and Troilus y-fere
Wher-as at leyser al this heigh matere
Touching hir love were at the fulle up-bounde
Hadde out of doute a tyme to it founde
For he with greet deliberacioun
Hadde every thing that her-to mighte avayle
Forn-cast and put in execucioun
And neither laft for cost ne for travayle
Come if hem list hem sholde no-thing fayle
And for to been in ought espyed there
That wiste he wel an inpossible were
Dredelees it cleer was in the wind
Of every pye and every lette-game
Now al is wel for al the world is blind
In this matere bothe fremed and tame
This timbur is al redy up to frame
Us lakketh nought but that we witen wolde
A certein houre in which she comen sholde
And Troilus that al this purveyaunce
Knew at the fulle and waytede on it ay
Hadde here-up-on eek made gret ordenaunce
And founde his cause and ther-to his aray
If that he were missed night or day
Ther-whyle he was aboute this servyse
That he was goon to doon his sacrifyse
And moste at swich a temple alone wake
Answered of Appollo for to be
And first to seen the holy laurer quake
Er that Apollo spak out of the tree
To telle him next whan Grekes sholden flee
And forthy lette him no man god forbede
But preye Apollo helpen in this nede
Now is ther litel more for to doone
But Pandare up and shortly for to seyne
Right sone upon the chaunging of the mone
Whan lightles is the world a night or tweyne
And that the welken shoop him for to reyne
He streight a-morwe un-to his nece wente
Ye han wel herd the fyn of his entente
Whan he was come he gan anoon to pleye
As he was wont and of him-self to Iape
And fynally he swor and gan hir seye
By this and that she sholde him not escape
Ne lengere doon him after hir to gape
But certeynly she moste by hir leve
Come soupen in his hous with him at eve
At whiche she lough and gan hir faste excuse
And seyde 'It rayneth lo how sholde I goon
'Lat be' quod he 'ne stond not thus to muse
This moot be doon ye shal be ther anoon
So at the laste her-of they felle at oon
Or elles softe he swor hir in hir ere
He nolde never come ther she were
Sone after this to him she gan to rowne
And asked him if Troilus were there
He swor hir 'Nay for he was out of towne
And seyde 'Nece I pose that he were
Yow thurfte never have the more fere
For rather than men mighte him ther aspye
Me were lever a thousand-fold to dye
Nought list myn auctor fully to declare
What that she thoughte whan he seyde so
That Troilus was out of town y-fare
As if he seyde ther-of sooth or no
But that with-outen awayt with him to go
She graunted him sith he hir that bisoughte
And as his nece obeyed as hir oughte
But nathelees yet gan she him biseche
Al-though with him to goon it was no fere
For to be war of goosish peples speche
That dremen thinges whiche that never were
And wel avyse him whom he broughte there
And seyde him 'Eem sin I mot on yow triste
Loke al be wel and do now as yow liste
He swor hire 'Yis by stokkes and by stones
And by the goddes that in hevene dwelle
Or elles were him levere soule and bones
With Pluto king as depe been in helle
As Tantalus' What sholde I more telle
Whan al was wel he roos and took his leve
And she to souper com whan it was eve
With a certayn of hir owene men
And with hir faire nece Antigone
And othere of hir wommen nyne or ten
But who was glad now who as trowe ye
But Troilus that stood and mighte it see
Thurgh-out a litel windowe in a stewe
Ther he bishet sin midnight was in mewe
Unwist of every wight but of Pandare
But to the poynt now whan that she was y-come
With alle Ioye and alle frendes fare
Hir em anoon in armes hath hir nome
And after to the souper alle and some
Whan tyme was ful softe they hem sette
God wot ther was no deyntee for to fette
And after souper gonnen they to ryse
At ese wel with hertes fresshe and glade
And wel was him that coude best devyse
To lyken hir or that hir laughen made
He song she pleyde he tolde tale of Wade
But at the laste as every thing hath ende
She took hir leve and nedes wolde wende
But O Fortune executrice of wierdes
O influences of thise hevenes hye
Soth is that under god ye ben our hierdes
Though to us bestes been the causes wrye
This mene I now for she gan hoomward hye
But execut was al bisyde hir leve
At the goddes wil for which she moste bleve
The bente mone with hir hornes pale
Saturne and Iove in Cancro ioyned were
That swich a rayn from hevene gan avale
That every maner womman that was there
Hadde of that smoky reyn a verray fere
At which Pandare tho lough and seyde thenne
'Now were it tyme a lady to go henne
'But goode nece if I mighte ever plese
Yow any-thing than prey I yow' quod he
'To doon myn herte as now so greet an ese
As for to dwelle here al this night with me
For-why this is your owene hous pardee
For by my trouthe I sey it nought a-game
To wende as now it were to me a shame
Criseyde which that coude as muche good
As half a world tok hede of his preyere
And sin it ron and al was on a flood
She thoughte as good chep may I dwellen here
And graunte it gladly with a freendes chere
And have a thank as grucche and thanne abyde
For hoom to goon it may nought wel bityde
'I wol' quod she 'myn uncle leef and dere
Sin that yow list it skile is to be so
I am right glad with yow to dwellen here
I seyde but a-game I wolde go
'Y-wis graunt mercy nece' quod he tho
'Were it a game or no soth for to telle
Now am I glad sin that yow list to dwelle
Thus al is wel but tho bigan aright
The newe Ioye and al the feste agayn
But Pandarus if goodly hadde he might
He wolde han hyed hir to bedde fayn
And seyde 'Lord this is an huge rayn
This were a weder for to slepen inne
And that I rede us sonE to biginne
'And nece woot ye wher I wol yow leye
For that we shul not liggen fer asonder
And for ye neither shullen dar I seye
Heren noise of reynes nor of thondre
By god right in my lyte closet yonder
And I wol in that outer hous allone
Be wardeyn of your wommen everichone
'And in this middel chaumbre that ye see
Shal youre wommen slepen wel and softe
And ther I seyde shal your-selve be
And if ye liggen wel to-night com ofte
And careth not what weder is on-lofte
The wyn anon and whan so that yow leste
So go we slepe I trowe it be the beste
Ther nis no more but here-after sone
The voyde dronke and travers drawe anon
Gan every wight that hadde nought to done
More in the place out of the chaumber gon
And ever-mo so sternelich it ron
And blew ther-with so wonderliche loude
That wel neigh no man heren other coude
Tho Pandarus hir eem right as him oughte
With women swiche as were hir most aboute
Ful glad un-to hir beddes syde hir broughte
And toke his leve and gan ful lowe loute
And seyde 'Here at this closet-dore with-oute
Right over-thwart your wommen liggen alle
That whom yow list of hem ye may here calle
So whan that she was in the closet leyd
And alle hir wommen forth by ordenaunce
A-bedde weren ther as I have seyd
There was no more to skippen nor to traunce
But boden go to bedde with mischaunce
If any wight was steringe any-where
And late hem slepe that a-bedde were
But Pandarus that wel coude eche a del
The olde daunce and every poynt ther-inne
Whan that he sey that alle thing was wel
He thoughte he wolde up-on his werk biginne
And gan the stewe-dore al softe un-pinne
And stille as stoon with-outen lenger lette
By Troilus a-doun right he him sette
And shortly to the poynt right for to gon
Of al this werk he tolde him word and ende
And seyde 'Make thee redy right anon
For thou shalt in-to hevene blisse wende
'Now blisful Venus thou me grace sende
Quod Troilus 'for never yet no nede
Hadde I er now ne halvendel the drede
Quod Pandarus 'Ne drede thee never a del
For it shal been right as thou wilt desyre
So thryve I this night shal I make it wel
Or casten al the gruwel in the fyre
'Yit blisful Venus this night thou me enspyre
Quod Troilus 'as wis as I thee serve
And ever bet and bet shal til I sterve
'And if I hadde O Venus ful of murthe
Aspectes badde of Mars or of Saturne
Or thou combust or let were in my birthe
Thy fader prey al thilke harm disturne
Of grace and that I glad ayein may turne
For love of him thou lovedest in the shawe
I mene Adoon that with the boor was slawe
'O Iove eek for the love of faire Europe
The whiche in forme of bole awey thou fette
Now help O Mars thou with thy blody cope
For love of Cipris thou me nought ne lette
O Phebus thenk whan Dane hir-selven shette
Under the bark and laurer wex for drede
Yet for hir love O help now at this nede
'Mercurie for the love of Hierse eke
For which Pallas was with Aglauros wrooth
Now help and eek Diane I thee biseke
That this viage be not to thee looth
O fatal sustren which er any clooth
Me shapen was my destene me sponne
So helpeth to this werk that is bi-gonne
Quod Pandarus 'Thou wrecched mouses herte
Art thou agast so that she wol thee byte
Why don this furred cloke up-on thy sherte
And folowe me for I wol have the wyte
But byd and lat me go bifore a lyte
And with that word he gan un-do a trappe
And Troilus he broughte in by the lappe
The sterne wind so loude gan to route
That no wight other noyse mighte here
And they that layen at the dore with-oute
Ful sykerly they slepten alle y-fere
And Pandarus with a ful sobre chere
Goth to the dore anon with-outen lette
Ther-as they laye and softely it shette
And as he com ayeinward prively
His nece awook and asked 'Who goth there
'My dere nece' quod he 'it am I
Ne wondreth not ne have of it no fere
And ner he com and seyde hir in hir ere
'No word for love of god I yow biseche
Lat no wight ryse and heren of oure speche
'What Which wey be ye comen benedicite
Quod she 'And how thus unwist of hem alle
'Here at this secre trappe-dore' quod he
Quod tho Criseyde 'Lat me som wight calle
'Ey God forbede that it sholde falle
Quod Pandarus 'that ye swich foly wroughte
They mighte deme thing they never er thoughte
'It is nought good a sleping hound to wake
Ne yeve a wight a cause to devyne
Your wommen slepen alle I under-take
So that for hem the hous men mighte myne
And slepen wolen til the sonne shyne
And whan my tale al brought is to an ende
Unwist right as I com so wol I wende
'Now nece myn ye shul wel understonde
Quod he 'so as ye wommen demen alle
That for to holde in love a man in honde
And him hir leef and dere herte calle
And maken him an howve above a calle
I mene as love an other in this whyle
She doth hir-self a shame and him a gyle
'Now wherby that I telle yow al this
Ye woot your-self as wel as any wight
How that your love al fully graunted is
To Troilus the worthieste knight
Oon of this world and ther-to trouthe plyght
That but it were on him along ye nolde
Him never falsen whyle ye liven sholde
'Now stant it thus that sith I fro yow wente
This Troilus right platly for to seyn
Is thurgh a goter by a prive wente
In-to my chaumbre come in al this reyn
Unwist of every maner wight certeyn
Save of my-self as wisly have I Ioye
And by that feith I shal Pryam of Troye
'And he is come in swich peyne and distresse
That but he be al fully wood by this
He sodeynly mot falle in-to wodnesse
But-if god helpe and cause why this is
He seyth him told is of a freend of his
How that ye sholde love oon that hatte Horaste
For sorwe of which this night shalt been his laste
Criseyde which that al this wonder herde
Gan sodeynly aboute hir herte colde
And with a syk she sorwfully answerde
'Allas I wende who-so tales tolde
My dere herte wolde me not holde
So lightly fals Allas Conceytes wronge
What harm they doon for now live I to longe
'Horaste Allas And falsen Troilus
I knowe him not god helpe me so' quod she
'Allas What wikked spirit tolde him thus
Now certes eem to-morwe and I him see
I shal ther-of as ful excusen me
As ever dide womman if him lyke'
And with that word she gan ful sore syke
'O god' quod she 'So worldly selinesse
Which clerkes callen fals felicitee
Y-medled is with many a bitternesse
Ful anguisshous than is god woot' quod she
'Condicioun of veyn prosperitee
For either Ioyes comen nought y-fere
Or elles no wight hath hem alwey here
'O brotel wele of mannes Ioye unstable
With what wight so thou be or how thou pleye
Either he woot that thou Ioye art muable
Or woot it not it moot ben oon of tweye
Now if he woot it not how may he seye
That he hath verray Ioye and selinesse
That is of ignoraunce ay in derknesse
'Now if he woot that Ioye is transitorie
As every Ioye of worldly thing mot flee
Than every tyme he that hath in memorie
The drede of lesing maketh him that he
May in no perfit selinesse be
And if to lese his Ioye he set a myte
Than semeth it that Ioye is worth ful lyte
'Wherfore I wol deffyne in this matere
That trewely for ought I can espye
Ther is no verray wele in this world here
But O thou wikked serpent Ialousye
Thou misbeleved and envious folye
Why hastow Troilus me mad untriste
That never yet agilte him that I wiste
Quod Pandarus 'Thus fallen is this cas
'Why uncle myn' quod she 'who tolde him this
Why doth my dere herte thus allas
'Ye woot ye nece myn' quod he 'what is
I hope al shal be wel that is amis
For ye may quenche al this if that yow leste
And doth right so for I holde it the beste
'So shal I do to-morwe y-wis' quod she
'And god to-forn so that it shal suffyse
'To-morwe Allas that were a fair' quod he
'Nay nay it may not stonden in this wyse
For nece myn thus wryten clerkes wyse
That peril is with drecching in y-drawe
Nay swich abodes been nought worth an hawe
'Nece al thing hath tyme I dar avowe
For whan a chaumber a-fyr is or an halle
Wel more nede is it sodeynly rescowe
Than to dispute and axe amonges alle
How is this candele in the straw y-falle
A Benedicite For al among that fare
The harm is doon and fare-wel feldefare
'And nece myn ne take it not a-greef
If that ye suffre him al night in this wo
God help me so ye hadde him never leef
That dar I seyn now there is but we two
But wel I woot that ye wol not do so
Ye been to wys to do so gret folye
To putte his lyf al night in Iupertye
'Hadde I him never leef By god I wene
Ye hadde never thing so leef' quod she
'Now by my thrift' quod he 'that shal be sene
For sin ye make this ensample of me
If I al night wolde him in sorwe see
For al the tresour in the toun of Troye
I bidde god I never mote have Ioye
'Now loke thanne if ye that been his love
Shul putte al night his lyf in Iupartye
For thing of nought Now by that god above
Nought only this delay comth of folye
But of malyce if that I shal nought lye
What platly and ye suffre him in distresse
Ye neither bountee doon ne gentilesse
Quod tho Criseyde 'Wole ye doon o thing
And ye therwith shal stinte al his disese
Have here and bereth him this blewe ringe
For ther is no-thing mighte him bettre plese
Save I my-self ne more his herte apese
And sey my dere herte that his sorwe
Is causeles that shal be seen to-morwe
'A ring' quod he 'Ye hasel-wodes shaken
Ye nece myn that ring moste han a stoon
That mighte dede men alyve maken
And swich a ring trowe I that ye have noon
Discrecioun out of your heed is goon
That fele I now' quod he 'and that is routhe
O tyme y-lost wel maystow cursen slouthe
'Wot ye not wel that noble and heigh corage
Ne sorweth not ne stinteth eek for lyte
But if a fool were in a Ialous rage
I nolde setten at his sorwe a myte
But feffe him with a fewe wordes whyte
Another day whan that I mighte him finde
But this thing stant al in another kinde
'This is so gentil and so tendre of herte
That with his deeth he wol his sorwes wreke
For trusteth wel how sore that him smerte
He wol to yow no Ialouse wordes speke
And for-thy nece er that his herte breke
So spek your-self to him of this matere
For with o word ye may his herte stere
'Now have I told what peril he is inne
And his coming unwist is to every wight
Ne pardee harm may ther be noon ne sinne
I wol my-self be with yow al this night
Ye knowe eek how it is your owne knight
And that by right ye moste upon him triste
And I al prest to fecche him whan yow liste
This accident so pitous was to here
And eek so lyk a sooth at pryme face
And Troilus hir knight to hir so dere
His prive coming and the siker place
That though that she dide him as thanne a grace
Considered alle thinges as they stode
No wonder is sin she dide al for gode
Cryseyde answerde 'As wisly god at reste
My sowle bringe as me is for him wo
And eem y-wis fayn wolde I doon the beste
If that I hadde grace to do so
But whether that ye dwelle or for him go
I am til god me bettre minde sende
At dulcarnon right at my wittes ende
Quod Pandarus 'Ye nece wol ye here
Dulcarnon called is fleminge of wrecches
It semeth hard for wrecches wol not lere
For verray slouthe or othere wilful tecches
This seyd by hem that be not worth two fecches
But ye ben wys and that we han on honde
Nis neither hard ne skilful to withstonde
'Thanne eem' quod she 'doth her-of as yow list
But er he come I wil up first aryse
And for the love of god sin al my trist
Is on yow two and ye ben bothe wyse
So wircheth now in so discreet a wyse
That I honour may have and he plesaunce
For I am here al in your governaunce
'That is wel seyd' quod he 'my nece dere
Ther good thrift on that wyse gentil herte
But liggeth stille and taketh him right here
It nedeth not no ferther for him sterte
And ech of yow ese otheres sorwes smerte
For love of god and Venus I the herie
For sone hope I we shulle ben alle merie
This Troilus ful sone on knees him sette
Ful sobrely right be hir beddes heed
And in his beste wyse his lady grette
But lord so she wex sodeynliche reed
Ne though men sholden smyten of hir heed
She coude nought a word a-right out-bringe
So sodeynly for his sodeyn cominge
But Pandarus that so wel coude fele
In every thing to pleye anoon bigan
And seyde 'Nece see how this lord can knele
Now for your trouthe seeth this gentil man
And with that word he for a quisshen ran
And seyde 'Kneleth now whyl that yow leste
Ther god your hertes bringe sone at reste
Can I not seyn for she bad him not ryse
If sorwe it putte out of hir remembraunce
Or elles that she toke it in the wyse
Of duetee as for his observaunce
But wel finde I she dide him this plesaunce
That she him kiste al-though she syked sore
And bad him sitte a-doun with-outen more
Quod Pandarus 'Now wol ye wel biginne
Now doth him sitte gode nece dere
Upon your beddes syde al there with-inne
That ech of yow the bet may other here
And with that word he drow him to the fere
And took a light and fond his contenaunce
As for to loke up-on an old romaunce
Criseyde that was Troilus lady right
And cleer stood on a ground of sikernesse
Al thoughte she hir servaunt and hir knight
Ne sholde of right non untrouthe in hir gesse
Yet nathelees considered his distresse
And that love is in cause of swich folye
Thus to him spak she of his Ialousye
'Lo herte myn as wolde the excellence
Of love ayeins the which that no man may
Ne oughte eek goodly maken resistence
And eek bycause I felte wel and say
Youre grete trouthe and servyse every day
And that your herte al myn was sooth to seyne
This droof me for to rewe up-on your peyne
'And your goodnesse have I founde alwey yit
Of whiche my dere herte and al my knight
I thonke it yow as fer as I have wit
Al can I nought as muche as it were right
And I emforth my conninge and my might
Have and ay shal how sore that me smerte
Ben to yow trewe and hool with a myn herte
'And dredelees that shal be founde at preve  
But herte myn what al this is to seyne
Shal wel be told so that ye noght yow greve
Though I to yow right on your-self compleyne
For ther-with mene I fynally the peyne
That halt your herte and myn in hevinesse
Fully to sleen and every wrong redresse
'My goode myn not I for-why ne how
That Ialousye allas That wikked wivere
Thus causelees is cropen in-to yow
The harm of which I wolde fayn delivere
Allas That he al hool or of him slivere
Shuld have his refut in so digne a place
Ther Iove him sone out of your herte arace
'But O thou Iove O auctor of nature
Is this an honour to thy deitee
That folk ungiltif suffren here iniure
And who that giltif is al quit goth he
O were it leful for to pleyne on thee
That undeserved suffrest Ialousye
Of that I wolde up-on thee pleyne and crye
'Eek al my wo is this that folk now usen
To seyn right thus Ye Ialousye is love
And wolde a busshel venim al excusen
For that o greyn of love is on it shove
But that wot heighe god that sit above
If it be lyker love or hate or grame
And after that it oughte bere his name
'But certeyn is som maner Ialousye
Is excusable more than som y-wis
As whan cause is and som swich fantasye
With pietee so wel repressed is
That it unnethe dooth or seyth amis
But goodly drinketh up al his distresse
And that excuse I for the gentilesse
'And som so ful of furie is and despyt
That it sourmounteth his repressioun
But herte myn ye be not in that plyt
That thanke I god for whiche your passioun
I wol not calle it but illusioun
Of habundaunce of love and bisy cure
That dooth your herte this disese endure
'Of which I am right sory but not wrooth
But for my devoir and your hertes reste
Wher-so yow list by ordal or by ooth
By sort or in what wyse so yow leste
For love of god lat preve it for the beste
And if that I be giltif do me deye
Allas What mighte I more doon or seye
With that a fewe brighte teres newe
Owt of hir eyen fille and thus she seyde
'Now god thou wost in thought ne dede untrewe
To Troilus was never yet Criseyde
With that hir heed doun in the bed she leyde
And with the shete it wreigh and syghed sore
And held hir pees not o word spak she more
But now help god to quenchen al this sorwe
So hope I that he shal for he best may
For I have seyn of a ful misty morwe
Folwen ful ofte a mery someres day
And after winter folweth grene May
Men seen alday and reden eek in stories
That after sharpe shoures been victories
This Troilus whan he hir wordes herde
Have ye no care him liste not to slepe
For it thoughte him no strokes of a yerde
To here or seen Criseyde his lady wepe
But wel he felte aboute his herte crepe
For every teer which that Criseyde asterte
The crampe of deeth to streyne him by the herte
And in his minde he gan the tyme acurse
That he cam there and that that he was born
For now is wikke y-turned in-to worse
And al that labour he hath doon biforn
He wende it lost he thoughte he nas but lorn
'O Pandarus' thoughte he 'allas Thy wyle
Serveth of nought so weylaway the whyle
And therwithal he heng a-doun the heed
And fil on knees and sorwfully he sighte
What mighte he seyn He felte he nas but deed
For wrooth was she that shulde his sorwes lighte
But nathelees whan that he speken mighte
Than seyde he thus 'God woot that of this game
Whan al is wist than am I not to blame
Ther-with the sorwe so his herte shette
That from his eyen fil there not a tere
And every spirit his vigour in-knette
So they astoned or oppressed were
The feling of his sorwe or of his fere
Or of ought elles fled was out of towne
And doun he fel al sodeynly a-swowne
This was no litel sorwe for to see
But al was hust and Pandare up as faste
'O nece pees or we be lost' quod he
'Beth nought agast' But certeyn at the laste
For this or that he in-to bedde him caste
And seyde 'O theef is this a mannes herte
And of he rente al to his bare sherte
And seyde 'Nece but ye helpe us now
Allas your owne Troilus is lorn
'Y-wis so wolde I and I wiste how
Ful fayn' quod she 'Allas That I was born
'Ye nece wole ye pullen out the thorn
That stiketh in his herte' quod Pandare
'Sey Al foryeve and stint is al this fare
'Ye that to me' quod she 'ful lever were
Than al the good the sonne aboute gooth'
And therwith-al she swoor him in his ere
'Y-wis my dere herte I am nought wrooth
Have here my trouthe and many another ooth
Now speek to me for it am I Cryseyde
But al for nought yet mighte he not a-breyde
Therwith his pous and pawmes of his hondes
They gan to frote and wete his temples tweyne
And to deliveren him from bittre bondes
She ofte him kiste and shortly for to seyne
Him to revoken she dide al hir peyne
And at the laste he gan his breeth to drawe
And of his swough sone after that adawe
And gan bet minde and reson to him take
But wonder sore he was abayst y-wis
And with a syk whan he gan bet a-wake
He seyde 'O mercy god what thing is this
'Why do ye with your-selven thus amis
Quod tho Criseyde 'Is this a mannes game
What Troilus Wol ye do thus for shame
And therwith-al hir arm over him she leyde
And al foryaf and ofte tyme him keste
He thonked hir and to hir spak and seyde
As fil to purpos for his herte reste
And she to that answerde him as hir leste
And with hir goodly wordes him disporte
She gan and ofte his sorwes to comforte
Quod Pandarus 'For ought I can espyen
This light nor I ne serven here of nought
Light is not good for syke folkes yen
But for the love of god sin ye be brought
In thus good plyt lat now non hevy thought
Ben hanginge in the hertes of yow tweye
And bar the candele to the chimeneye
Sone after this though it no nede were
Whan she swich othes as hir list devyse
Hadde of him take hir thoughte tho no fere
Ne cause eek non to bidde him thennes ryse
Yet lesse thing than othes may suffyse
In many a cas for every wight I gesse
That loveth wel meneth but gentilesse
But in effect she wolde wite anoon
Of what man and eek where and also why
He Ielous was sin ther was cause noon
And eek the signe that he took it by
She bad him that to telle hir bisily
Or elles certeyn she bar him on honde
That this was doon of malis hir to fonde
With-outen more shortly for to seyne
He moste obeye un-to his lady heste
And for the lasse harm he moste feyne
He seyde hir whan she was at swiche a feste
She mighte on him han loked at the leste
Not I not what al dere y-nough a risshe
As he that nedes moste a cause fisshe
And she answerde 'Swete al were it so
What harm was that sin I non yvel mene
For by that god that boughte us bothe two
In alle thinge is myn entente clene
Swich arguments ne been not worth a bene
Wol ye the childish Ialous contrefete
Now were it worthy that ye were y-bete
Tho Troilus gan sorwfully to syke
Lest she be wrooth him thoughte his herte deyde
And seyde 'Allas Up-on my sorwes syke
Have mercy swete herte myn Cryseyde
And if that in tho wordes that I seyde
Be any wrong I wol no more trespace
Do what yow list I am al in your grace
And she answerde 'Of gilt misericorde
That is to seyn that I foryeve al this
And ever-more on this night yow recorde
And beth wel war ye do no more amis
'Nay dere herte myn' quod he 'y-wis
'And now' quod she 'that I have do yow smerte
Foryeve it me myn owene swete herte
This Troilus with blisse of that supprysed
Put al in goddes hond as he that mente
No-thing but wel and sodeynly avysed
He hir in armes faste to him hente
And Pandarus with a ful good entente
Leyde him to slepe and seyde 'If ye ben wyse
Swowneth not now lest more folk aryse
What mighte or may the sely larke seye
Whan that the sperhauk hath it in his foot
I can no more but of thise ilke tweye
To whom this tale sucre be or soot
Though that I tarie a yeer som-tyme I moot
After myn auctor tellen hir gladnesse
As wel as I have told hir hevinesse
Criseyde which that felte hir thus y-take
As writen clerkes in hir bokes olde
Right as an aspes leef she gan to quake
Whan she him felte hir in his armes folde
But Troilus al hool of cares colde
Gan thanken tho the blisful goddes sevene
Thus sondry peynes bringen folk in hevene
This Troilus in armes gan hir streyne
And seyde 'O swete as ever mote I goon
Now be ye caught now is ther but we tweyne
Now yeldeth yow for other boot is noon
To that Criseyde answerde thus anoon
'Ne hadde I er now my swete herte dere
Ben yolde y-wis I were now not here
O Sooth is seyd that heled for to be
As of a fevre or othere greet syknesse
Men moste drinke as men may often see
Ful bittre drink and for to han gladnesse
Men drinken often peyne and greet distresse
I mene it here as for this aventure
That thourgh a peyne hath founden al his cure
And now swetnesse semeth more sweet
That bitternesse assayed was biforn
For out of wo in blisse now they flete
Non swich they felten sith they were born
Now is this bet than bothe two be lorn
For love of god take every womman hede
To werken thus if it comth to the nede
Criseyde al quit from every drede and tene
As she that iuste cause hadde him to triste
Made him swich feste it Ioye was to sene
Whan she his trouthe and clene entente wiste
And as aboute a tree with many a twiste
Bitrent and wryth the sote wode-binde
Gan eche of hem in armes other winde
And as the newe abaysshed nightingale
That stinteth first whan she biginneth to singe
Whan that she hereth any herde tale
Or in the hegges any wight steringe
And after siker dooth hir voys out-ringe
Right so Criseyde whan hir drede stente
Opned hir herte and tolde him hir entente
And right as he that seeth his deeth y-shapen
And deye moot in ought that he may gesse
And sodeynly rescous doth him escapen
And from his deeth is brought in sikernesse
For al this world in swich present gladnesse
Was Troilus and hath his lady swete
With worse hap god lat us never mete
Hir armes smale hir streyghte bak and softe
Hir sydes longe fleshly smothe and whyte
He gan to stroke and good thrift bad ful ofte
Hir snowish throte hir brestes rounde and lyte
Thus in this hevene he gan him to delyte
And ther-with-al a thousand tyme hir kiste
That what to done for Ioye unnethe he wiste
Than seyde he thus 'O Love O Charitee
Thy moder eek Citherea the swete
After thy-self next heried be she
Venus mene I the wel-willy planete
And next that Imeneus I thee grete
For never man was to yow goddes holde
As I which ye han brought fro cares colde
'Benigne Love thou holy bond of thinges
Who-so wol grace and list thee nought honouren
Lo his desyr wol flee with-outen winges
For noldestow of bountee hem socouren
That serven best and most alwey labouren
Yet were al lost that dar I wel seyn certes
But-if thy grace passed our desertes
'And for thou me that coude leest deserve
Of hem that nombred been un-to thy grace
Hast holpen ther I lykly was to sterve
And me bistowed in so heygh a place
That thilke boundes may no blisse pace
I can no more but laude and reverence
Be to thy bounte and thyn excellence
And therwith-al Criseyde anoon he kiste
Of which certeyn she felte no disese
And thus seyde he 'Now wolde god I wiste
Myn herte swete how I yow mighte plese
What man' quod he 'was ever thus at ese
As I on whiche the faireste and the beste
That ever I say deyneth hir herte reste
'Here may men seen that mercy passeth right
The experience of that is felt in me
That am unworthy to so swete a wight
But herte myn of your benignitee
So thenketh though that I unworthy be
Yet mot I nede amenden in som wyse
Right thourgh the vertu of your heyghe servyse
'And for the love of god my lady dere
Sin god hath wrought me for I shal yow serve
As thus I mene that ye wol be my stere
To do me live if that yow liste or sterve
So techeth me how that I may deserve
Your thank so that I thurgh myn ignoraunce
Ne do no-thing that yow be displesaunce
'For certes fresshe wommanliche wyf
This dar I seye that trouthe and diligence
That shal ye finden in me al my lyf
Ne wol not certeyn breken your defence
And if I do present or in absence
For love of god lat slee me with the dede
If that it lyke un-to your womanhede
'Y-wis' quod she 'myn owne hertes list
My ground of ese and al myn herte dere
Graunt mercy for on that is al my trist
But late us falle awey fro this matere
For it suffyseth this that seyd is here
And at o word with-outen repentaunce
Wel-come my knight my pees my suffisaunce
Of hir delyt or Ioyes oon the leste
Were impossible to my wit to seye
But iuggeth ye that han ben at the feste
Of swich gladnesse if that hem liste pleye
I can no more but thus thise ilke tweye
That night be-twixen dreed and sikernesse
Felten in love the grete worthinesse
O blisful night of hem so longe y-sought
How blithe un-to hem bothe two thou were
Why ne hadde I swich on with my soule y-bought
Ye or the leeste Ioye that was there
A-wey thou foule daunger and thou fere
And lat hem in this hevene blisse dwelle
That is so heygh that al ne can I telle
But sooth is though I can not tellen al
As can myn auctor of his excellence
Yet have I seyd and god to-forn I shal
In every thing al hoolly his sentence
And if that I at loves reverence
Have any word in eched for the beste
Doth therwith-al right as your-selven leste
For myne wordes here and every part
I speke hem alle under correccioun
Of yow that feling han in loves art
And putte it al in your discrecioun
To encrese or maken diminucioun
Of my langage and that I yow bi-seche
But now to purpos of my rather speche
Thise ilke two that ben in armes laft
So looth to hem a-sonder goon it were
That ech from other wende been biraft
Or elles lo this was hir moste fere
That al this thing but nyce dremes were
For which ful ofte ech of hem seyde 'O swete
Clippe ich yow thus or elles I it mete
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
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 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
And ever-mo whan that hem fel to speke
Of any thing of swich a tyme agoon
With kissing al that tale sholde breke
And fallen in a newe Ioye anoon
And diden al hir might sin they were oon
For to recoveren blisse and been at ese
And passed wo with Ioye countrepeyse
Reson wil not that I speke of sleep
For it accordeth nought to my matere
God woot they toke of that ful litel keep
But lest this night that was to hem so dere
Ne sholde in veyn escape in no manere
It was biset in Ioye and bisinesse
Of al that souneth in-to gentilnesse
But whan the cok comune astrologer
Gan on his brest to bete and after crowe
And Lucifer the dayes messager
Gan for to ryse and out hir bemes throwe
And estward roos to him that coude it knowe
Fortuna maior than anoon Criseyde
With herte sore to Troilus thus seyde  
'Myn hertes lyf my trist and my plesaunce
That I was born allas What me is wo
That day of us mot make desseveraunce
For tyme it is to ryse and hennes go
Or elles I am lost for evermo
O night allas Why niltow over us hove
As longe as whanne Almena lay by Iove
'O blake night as folk in bokes rede
That shapen art by god this world to hyde
At certeyn tymes with thy derke wede
That under that men mighte in reste abyde
Wel oughte bestes pleyne and folk thee chyde
That there-as day with labour wolde us breste
That thou thus fleest and deynest us nought reste
'Thou dost allas To shortly thyn offyce
Thou rakel night ther god makere of kinde
Thee for thyn hast and thyn unkinde vyce
So faste ay to our hemi-spere binde
That never-more under the ground thou winde
For now for thou so hyest out of Troye
Have I forgon thus hastily my Ioye
This Troilus that with tho wordes felte
As thoughte him tho for pietous distresse
The blody teres from his herte melte
As he that never yet swich hevinesse
Assayed hadde out of so greet gladnesse
Gan therwith-al Criseyde his lady dere
In armes streyne and seyde in this manere  
'O cruel day accusour of the Ioye
That night and love han stole and faste y-wryen
A-cursed be thy coming in-to Troye
For every bore hath oon of thy bright yen
Envyous day what list thee so to spyen
What hastow lost why sekestow this place
Ther god thy lyght so quenche for his grace
'Allas What han thise loveres thee agilt
Dispitous day Thyn be the pyne of helle
For many a lovere hastow shent and wilt
Thy pouring in wol no-wher lete hem dwelle
What proferestow thy light here for to selle
Go selle it hem that smale seles graven
We wol thee nought us nedeth no day haven
And eek the sonne Tytan gan he chyde
And seyde 'O fool wel may men thee dispyse
That hast the Dawing al night by thy syde
And suffrest hir so sone up fro thee ryse
For to disesen loveres in this wyse
What Holde your bed ther thou and eek thy Morwe
I bidde god so yeve yow bothe sorwe
Therwith ful sore he sighte and thus he seyde
'My lady right and of my wele or wo
The welle and rote O goodly myn Criseyde
And shal I ryse allas And shal I go
Now fele I that myn herte moot a-two
For how sholde I my lyf an houre save
Sin that with yow is al the lyf I have
'What shal I doon for certes I not how
Ne whanne allas I shal the tyme see
That in this plyt I may be eft with yow
And of my lyf god woot how that shal be
Sin that desyr right now so byteth me
That I am deed anoon but I retourne
How sholde I longe allas Fro yow soiourne
'But nathelees myn owene lady bright
Yit were it so that I wiste outrely
That I your humble servaunt and your knight
Were in your herte set so fermely
As ye in myn the which thing trewely
Me lever were than thise worldes tweyne
Yet sholde I bet enduren al my peyne
To that Cryseyde answerde right anoon
And with a syk she seyde 'O herte dere
The game y-wis so ferforth now is goon
That first shal Phebus falle fro his spere
And every egle been the dowves fere
And every roche out of his place sterte
Er Troilus out of Criseydes herte
'Ye he so depe in-with myn herte grave
That though I wolde it turne out of my thought
As wisly verray god my soule save
To dyen in the peyne I coude nought
And for the love of god that us bath wrought
Lat in your brayn non other fantasye
So crepe that it cause me to dye
'And that ye me wolde han as faste in minde
As I have yow that wolde I yow bi-seche
And if I wiste soothly that to finde
God mighte not a poynt my Ioyes eche
But herte myn with-oute more speche
Beth to me trewe or elles were it routhe
For I am thyn by god and by my trouthe
'Beth glad for-thy and live in sikernesse
Thus seyde I never er this ne shal to mo
And if to yow it were a gret gladnesse
To turne ayein soone after that ye go
As fayn wolde I as ye it were so
As wisly god myn herte bringe at reste
And him in armes took and ofte keste
Agayns his wil sin it mot nedes be
This Troilus up roos and faste him cledde
And in his armes took his lady free
An hundred tyme and on his wey him spedde
And with swich wordes as his herte bledde
He seyde 'Farewel mr dere herte swete
Ther god us graunte sounde and sone to mete
To which no word for sorwe she answerde
So sore gan his parting hir destreyne
And Troilus un-to his palays ferde
As woo bigon as she was sooth to seyne
So hard him wrong of sharp desyr the peyne
For to ben eft there he was in plesaunce
That it may never out of his remembraunce
Retorned to his real palais sone
He softe in-to his bed gan for to slinke
To slepe longe as he was wont to done
But al for nought he may wel ligge and winke
But sleep ne may ther in his herte sinke
Thenkinge how she for whom desyr him brende
A thousand-fold was worth more than he wende
And in his thought gan up and doun to winde
Hir wordes alle and every countenaunce
And fermely impressen in his minde
The leste poynt that to him was plesaunce
And verrayliche of thilke remembraunce
Desyr al newe him brende and lust to brede
Gan more than erst and yet took he non hede
Criseyde also right in the same wyse
Of Troilus gan in hir herte shette
His worthinesse his lust his dedes wyse
His gentilesse and how she with him mette
Thonkinge love he so wel hir bisette
Desyring eft to have hir herte dere
In swich a plyt she dorste make him chere
Pandare a-morwe which that comen was
Un-to his nece and gan hir fayre grete
Seyde 'Al this night so reyned it allas
That al my drede is that ye nece swete
Han litel layser had to slepe and mete
Al night' quod he 'hath reyn so do me wake
That som of us I trowe hir hedes ake
And ner he com and seyde 'How stont it now
This mery morwe nece how can ye fare
Criseyde answerde 'Never the bet for yow
Fox that ye been god yeve youre herte care
God help me so ye caused al this fare
Trow I' quod she 'for alle your wordes whyte
O Who-so seeth yow knoweth yow ful lyte
With that she gan hir face for to wrye
With the shete and wex for shame al reed
And Pandarus gan under for to prye
And seyde 'Nece if that I shal be deed
Have here a swerd and smyteth of myn heed
With that his arm al sodeynly he thriste
Under hir nekke and at the laste hir kiste
I passe al that which chargeth nought to seye
What God foryaf his deeth and she al-so
Foryaf and with hir uncle gan to pleye
For other cause was ther noon than so
But of this thing right to the effect to go
Whan tyme was hom til hir hous she wente
And Pandarus hath fully his entente
Now torne we ayein to Troilus
That resteles ful longe a-bedde lay
And prevely sente after Pandarus
To him to come in al the haste he may
He com anoon nought ones seyde he 'nay
And Troilus ful sobrely he grette
And doun upon his beddes syde him sette
This Troilus with al the affeccioun
Of frendes love that herte may devyse
To Pandarus on knees fil adoun
And er that he wolde of the place aryse
He gan him thonken in his beste wyse
An hondred sythe he gan the tyme blesse
That he was born to bringe him fro distresse
He seyde 'O frend of frendes the alderbeste
That ever was the sothe for to telle
Thou hast in hevene y-brought my soule at reste
Fro Flegitoun the fery flood of helle
That though I mighte a thousand tymes selle
Upon a day my lyf in thy servyse
It mighte nought a mote in that suffyse
'The sonne which that al the world may see
Saw never yet my lyf that dar I leye
So inly fayr and goodly as is she
Whos I am al and shal til that I deye
And that I thus am hires dar I seye
That thanked be the heighe worthinesse
Of love and eek thy kinde bisinesse
'Thus hastow me no litel thing y-yive
Fo which to thee obliged be for ay
My lyf and why For thorugh thyn help I live
For elles deed hadde I be many a day
And with that word doun in his bed he lay
And Pandarus ful sobrely him herde
Til al was seyd and than he thus answerde
'My dere frend if I have doon for thee
In any cas god wot it is me leef
And am as glad as man may of it be
God help me so but tak now a-greef
That I shal seyn be war of this myscheef
That there-as thou now brought art in-to blisse
That thou thy-self ne cause it nought to misse
'For of fortunes sharpe adversitee
The worst kinde of infortune is this
A man to have ben in prosperitee
And it remembren whan it passed is
Thou art wys y-nough for-thy do nought amis
Be not to rakel though thou sitte warme
For if thou be certeyn it wol thee harme
'Thou art at ese and holde the wel ther-inne
For also seur as reed is every fyr
As greet a craft is kepe wel as winne
Brydle alwey wel thy speche and thy desyr
For worldly Ioye halt not but by a wyr
That preveth wel it brest alday so ofte
For-thy nede is to werke with it softe
Quod Troilus 'I hope and god to-forn
My dere frend that I shal so me bere
That in my gilt ther shal no thing be lorn
Ne I nil not rakle as for to greven here
It nedeth not this matere ofte tere
For wistestow myn herte wel Pandare
God woot of this thou woldest litel care
Tho gan he telle him of his glade night
And wher-of first his herte dredde and how
And seyde 'Freend as I am trewe knight
And by that feyth I shal to god and yow
I hadde it never half so hote as now
And ay the more that desyr me byteth
To love hir best the more it me delyteth
'I noot my-self not wisly what it is
But now I fele a newe qualitee
Ye al another than I dide er this
Pandare answerde and seyde thus that he
That ones may in hevene blisse be
He feleth other weyes dar I leye
Than thilke tyme he first herde of it seye
This is o word for al this Troilus
Was never ful to speke of this matere
And for to preysen un-to Pandarus
The bountee of his righte lady dere
And Pandarus to thanke and maken chere
This tale ay was span-newe to biginne
Til that the night departed hem a-twinne
Sone after this for that fortune it wolde
I-comen was the blisful tyme swete
That Troilus was warned that he sholde
Ther he was erst Criseyde his lady mete
For which he felte his herte in Ioye flete
And feythfully gan alle the goddes herie
And lat see now if that he can be merie
And holden was the forme and al the wyse
Of hir cominge and eek of his also
As it was erst which nedeth nought devyse
But playnly to the effect right for to go
In Ioye and suerte Pandarus hem two
A-bedde broughte whan that hem bothe leste
And thus they ben in quiete and in reste
Nought nedeth it to yow sin they ben met
To aske at me if that they blythe were
For if it erst was wel tho was it bet
A thousand-fold this nedeth not enquere
A-gon was every sorwe and every fere
And bothe y-wis they hadde and so they wende
As muche Ioye as herte may comprende
This is no litel thing of for to seye
This passeth every wit for to devyse
For eche of hem gan otheres lust obeye
Felicitee which that thise clerkes wyse
Commenden so ne may not here suffyse
This Ioye may not writen been with inke
This passeth al that herte may bithinke
But cruel day so wel-awey the stounde
Gan for to aproche as they by signes knewe
For whiche hem thoughte felen dethes wounde
So wo was hem that changen gan hir hewe
And day they goonnen to dispyse al newe
Calling it traytour envyous and worse
And bitterly the dayes light they curse
Quod Troilus 'Allas Now am I war
That Pirous and tho swifte stedes three
Whiche that drawen forth the sonnes char
Han goon som by-path in despyt of me
That maketh it so sone day to be
And for the sonne him hasteth thus to ryse
Ne shal I never doon him sacrifyse
But nedes day departe moste hem sone
And whanne hir speche doon was and hir chere
They twinne anoon as they were wont to done
And setten tyme of meting eft y-fere
And many a night they wroughte in this manere
And thus Fortune a tyme ladde in Ioye
Criseyde and eek this kinges sone of Troye
In suffisaunce in blisse and in singinges
This Troilus gan al his lyf to lede
He spendeth Iusteth maketh festeynges
He yeveth frely ofte and chaungeth wede
And held aboute him alwey out of drede
A world of folk as cam him wel of kinde
The fressheste and the beste he coude fynde
That swich a voys was of hym and a stevene
Thorugh-out the world of honour and largesse
That it up rong un-to the yate of hevene
And as in love he was in swich gladnesse
That in his herte he demede as I gesse
That there nis lovere in this world at ese
So wel as he and thus gan love him plese
The godlihede or beautee which that kinde
In any other lady hadde y-set
Can not the mountaunce of a knot unbinde
A-boute his herte of al Criseydes net
He was so narwe y-masked and y-knet
That it undon on any manere syde
That nil not been for ought that may betyde
And by the hond ful ofte he wolde take
This Pandarus and in-to gardin lede
And swich a feste and swich a proces make
Him of Criseyde and of hir womanhede
And of hir beautee that with-outen drede
It was an hevene his wordes for to here
And thanne he wolde singe in this manere
'Love that of erthe and see hath governaunce
Love that his hestes hath in hevene hye
Love that with an holsom alliaunce
Halt peples ioyned as him list hem gye
Love that knetteth lawe of companye
And couples doth in vertu for to dwelle
Bind this acord that I have told and telle
'That that the world with feyth which that is stable
Dyverseth so his stoundes concordinge
That elements that been so discordable
Holden a bond perpetuely duringe
That Phebus mote his rosy day forth bringe
And that the mone hath lordship over the nightes
Al this doth Love ay heried be his mightes
'That that the see that gredy is to flowen
Constreyneth to a certeyn ende so
His flodes that so fersly they ne growen
To drenchen erthe and al for ever-mo
And if that Love ought lete his brydel go
Al that now loveth a-sonder sholde lepe
And lost were al that Love halt now to-hepe
'So wolde god that auctor is of kinde
That with his bond Love of his vertu liste
To cerclen hertes alle and faste binde
That from his bond no wight the wey out wiste
And hertes colde hem wolde I that he twiste
To make hem love and that hem leste ay rewe
On hertes sore and kepe hem that ben trewe
In alle nedes for the tounes werre
He was and ay the firste in armes dight
And certeynly but-if that bokes erre
Save Ector most y-drad of any wight
And this encrees of hardinesse and might
Cam him of love his ladies thank to winne
That altered his spirit so with-inne
In tyme of trewe on haukinge wolde he ryde
Or elles hunten boor bere or lyoun
The smale bestes leet he gon bi-syde
And whan that he com rydinge in-to toun
Ful ofte his lady from hir window doun
As fresh as faucon comen out of muwe
Ful redy was him goodly to saluwe
And most of love and vertu was his speche
And in despyt hadde alle wrecchednesse
And doutelees no nede was him biseche
To honouren hem that hadde worthinesse
And esen hem that weren in distresse
And glad was he if any wight wel ferde
That lover was whan he it wiste or herde
For sooth to seyn he lost held every wight
But-if he were in loves heigh servyse
I mene folk that oughte it been of right
And over al this so wel coude he devyse
Of sentement and in so unkouth wyse
Al his array that every lover thoughte
That al was wel what-so he seyde or wroughte
And though that he be come of blood royal
Him liste of pryde at no wight for to chase
Benigne he was to ech in general
For which he gat him thank in every place
Thus wolde love y-heried be his grace
That Pryde Envye Ire and Avaryce
He gan to flee and every other vyce
Thou lady bright the doughter to Dione
Thy blinde and winged sone eek daun Cupyde
Ye sustren nyne eek that by Elicone
In hil Parnaso listen for to abyde
That ye thus fer han deyned me to gyde
I can no more but sin that ye wol wende
Ye heried been for ay with-outen ende
Thourgh yow have I seyd fully in my song
Theffect and Ioye of Troilus servyse
Al be that ther was som disese among
As to myn auctor listeth to devyse
My thridde book now ende ich in this wyse
And Troilus in luste and in quiete
Is with Criseyde his owne herte swete
But al to litel weylaway the whyle
Lasteth swich Ioye y-thonked be Fortune
That semeth trewest whan she wol bygyle
And can to foles so hir song entune
That she hem hent and blent traytour comune
And whan a wight is from hir wheel y-throwe
Than laugheth she and maketh him the mowe
From Troilus she gan hir brighte face
Awey to wrythe and took of him non hede
But caste him clene out of his lady grace
And on hir wheel she sette up Diomede
For which right now myn herte ginneth blede
And now my penne allas With which I wryte
Quaketh for drede of that I moot endyte
For how Criseyde Troilus forsook
Or at the leste how that she was unkinde
Mot hennes-forth ben matere of my book
As wryten folk through which it is in minde
Allas That they sholde ever cause finde
To speke hir harm and if they on hir lye
Y-wis hem-self sholde han the vilanye
O ye Herines Nightes doughtren three
That endelees compleynen ever in pyne
Megera Alete and eek Thesiphone
Thou cruel Mars eek fader to Quiryne
This ilke ferthe book me helpeth fyne
So that the los of lyf and love y-fere
Of Troilus be fully shewed here
Ligginge in ost as I have seyd er this
The Grekes stronge aboute Troye toun
Bifel that whan that Phebus shyning is
Up-on the brest of Hercules Lyoun
That Ector with ful many a bold baroun
Caste on a day with Grekes for to fighte
As he was wont to greve hem what he mighte
Not I how longe or short it was bitwene
This purpos and that day they fighte mente
But on a day wel armed bright and shene
Ector and many a worthy wight out wente
With spere in hond and bigge bowes bente
And in the herd with-oute lenger lette
Hir fomen in the feld anoon hem mette
The longe day with speres sharpe y-grounde
With arwes dartes swerdes maces felle
They fighte and bringen hors and man to grounde
And with hir axes out the braynes quelle
But in the laste shour sooth for to telle
The folk of Troye hem-selven so misledden
That with the worse at night homward they fledden
At whiche day was taken Antenor
Maugre Polydamas or Monesteo
Santippe Sarpedon Polynestor
Polyte or eek the Troian daun Ripheo
And othere lasse folk as Phebuseo
So that for harm that day the folk of Troye
Dredden to lese a greet part of hir Ioye
Of Pryamus was yeve at Greek requeste
A tyme of trewe and tho they gonnen trete
Hir prisoneres to chaungen moste and leste
And for the surplus yeven sommes grete
This thing anoon was couth in every strete
Bothe in thassege in toune and every-where
And with the firste it cam to Calkas ere
Whan Calkas knew this tretis sholde holde
In consistorie among the Grekes sone
He gan in thringe forth with lordes olde
And sette him there-as he was wont to done
And with a chaunged face hem bad a bone
For love of god to don that reverence
To stinte noyse and yeve him audience
Thanne seyde he thus 'Lo Lordes myne I was
Troian as it is knowen out of drede
And if that yow remembre I am Calkas
That alderfirst yaf comfort to your nede
And tolde wel how that ye sholden spede
For dredelees thorugh yow shal in a stounde
Ben Troye y-brend and beten doun to grounde
'And in what forme or in what maner wyse
This town to shende and al your lust to acheve
Ye han er this wel herd it me devyse
This knowe ye my lordes as I leve
And for the Grekes weren me so leve
I com my-self in my propre persone
To teche in this how yow was best to done
'Havinge un-to my tresour ne my rente
Right no resport to respect of your ese
Thus al my good I loste and to yow wente
Wening in this you lordes for to plese
But al that los ne doth me no disese
I vouche-sauf as wisly have I Ioye
For you to lese al that I have in Troye
'Save of a doughter that I lafte allas
Slepinge at hoom whanne out of Troye I sterte
O sterne O cruel fader that I was
How mighte I have in that so hard an herte
Allas I ne hadde y-brought hir in hir sherte
For sorwe of which I wol not live to morwe
But-if ye lordes rewe up-on my sorwe
'For by that cause I say no tyme er now
Hir to delivere I holden have my pees
But now or never if that it lyke yow
I may hir have right sone doutelees
O help and grace Amonges al this prees
Rewe on this olde caitif in destresse
Sin I through yow have al this hevinesse
'Ye have now caught and fetered in prisoun
Troians y-nowe and if your willes be
My child with oon may have redempcioun
Now for the love of god and of bountee
Oon of so fele allas So yeve him me
What nede were it this preyere for to werne
Sin ye shul bothe han folk and toun as yerne
'On peril of my lyf I shal nat lye
Appollo hath me told it feithfully
I have eek founde it be astronomye
By sort and by augurie eek trewely
And dar wel seye the tyme is faste by
That fyr and flaumbe on al the toun shal sprede
And thus shal Troye turne to asshen dede
'For certeyn Phebus and Neptunus bothe
That makeden the walles of the toun
Ben with the folk of Troye alwey so wrothe
That thei wol bringe it to confusioun
Right in despyt of king Lameadoun
By-cause he nolde payen hem hir hyre
The toun of Troye shal ben set on-fyre
Telling his tale alwey this olde greye
Humble in speche and in his lokinge eke
The salte teres from his eyen tweye
Ful faste ronnen doun by eyther cheke
So longe he gan of socour hem by-seke
That for to hele him of his sorwes sore
They yave him Antenor with-oute more
But who was glad y-nough but Calkas tho
And of this thing ful sone his nedes leyde
On hem that sholden for the tretis go
And hem for Antenor ful ofte preyde
To bringen hoom king Toas and Criseyde
And whan Pryam his save-garde sente
Thembassadours to Troye streyght they wente
The cause y-told of hir cominge the olde
Pryam the king ful sone in general
Let here-upon his parlement to holde
Of which the effect rehersen yow I shal
Thembassadours ben answered for fynal
Theschaunge of prisoners and al this nede
Hem lyketh wel and forth in they procede
This Troilus was present in the place
Whan axed was for Antenor Criseyde
For which ful sone chaungen gan his face
As he that with tho wordes wel neigh deyde
But nathelees he no word to it seyde
Lest men sholde his affeccioun espye
With mannes herte he gan his sorwes drye
And ful of anguissh and of grisly drede
Abood what lordes wolde un-to it seye
And if they wolde graunte as god forbede
Theschaunge of hir than thoughte he thinges tweye
First how to save hir honour and what weye
He mighte best theschaunge of hir withstonde
Ful faste he caste how al this mighte stonde
Love him made al prest to doon hir byde
And rather dye than she sholde go
But resoun seyde him on that other syde
'With-oute assent of hir ne do not so
Lest for thy werk she wolde be thy fo
And seyn that thorugh thy medling is y-blowe
Your bother love there it was erst unknowe
For which he gan deliberen for the beste
That though the lordes wolde that she wente
He wolde lat hem graunte what hem leste
And telle his lady first what that they mente
And whan that she had seyd him hir entente
Ther-after wolde he werken also blyve
Though al the world ayein it wolde stryve
Ector which that wel the Grekes herde
For Antenor how they wolde han Criseyde
Gan it withstonde and sobrely answerde  
'Sires she nis no prisoner' he seyde
'I noot on yow who that this charge leyde
But on my part ye may eft-sone hem telle
We usen here no wommen for to selle
The noyse of peple up-stirte thanne at ones
As breme as blase of straw y-set on fyre
For infortune it wolde for the nones
They sholden hir confusioun desyre
'Ector' quod they 'what goost may yow enspyre
This womman thus to shilde and doon us lese
Daun Antenor   a wrong wey now ye chese  
'That is so wys and eek so bold baroun
And we han nede to folk as men may see
He is eek oon the grettest of this toun
O Ector lat tho fantasyes be
O king Priam' quod they 'thus seggen we
That al our voys is to for-gon Criseyde
And to deliveren Antenor they preyde
O Iuvenal lord Trewe is thy sentence
That litel witen folk what is to yerne
That they ne finde in hir desyr offence
For cloud of errour let hem not descerne
What best is and lo here ensample as yerne
This folk desiren now deliveraunce
Of Antenor that broughte hem to mischaunce
For he was after traytour to the toun
Of Troye allas They quitte him out to rathe
O nyce world lo thy discrecioun
Criseyde which that never dide hem skathe
Shal now no lenger in hir blisse bathe
But Antenor he shal com hoom to toune
And she shal out thus seyden here and howne
For which delibered was by parlement
For Antenor to yelden out Criseyde
And it pronounced by the president
Al-theigh that Ector 'nay' ful ofte preyde
And fynaly what wight that it with-seyde
It was for nought it moste been and sholde
For substaunce of the parlement it wolde
Departed out of parlement echone
This Troilus with-oute wordes mo
Un-to his chaumbre spedde him faste allone
But-if it were a man of his or two
The whiche he bad out faste for to go
By-cause he wolde slepen as he seyde
And hastely up-on his bed him leyde
And as in winter leves been biraft
Eche after other til the tree be bare
So that ther nis but bark and braunche y-laft
Lyth Troilus biraft of ech wel-fare
Y-bounden in the blake bark of care
Disposed wood out of his wit to breyde
So sore him sat the chaunginge of Criseyde
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
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
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
'If that Criseyde allone were me laft
Nought roughte I whider thou woldest me stere
And hir allas Than hastow me biraft
But ever-more lo This is thy manere
To reve a wight that most is to him dere
To preve in that thy gerful violence
Thus am I lost ther helpeth no defence
'O verray lord of love O god allas
That knowest best myn herte and al my thought
What shal my sorwful lyf don in this cas
If I for-go that I so dere have bought
Sin ye Cryseyde and me han fully brought
In-to your grace and bothe our hertes seled
How may ye suffre allas It be repeled
'What I may doon I shal whyl I may dure
On lyve in torment and in cruel peyne
This infortune or this disaventure
Allone as I was born y-wis compleyne
Ne never wil I seen it shyne or reyne
But ende I wil as Edippe in derknesse
My sorwful lyf and dyen in distresse
'O wery goost that errest to and fro
Why niltow fleen out of the wofulleste
Body that ever mighte on grounde go
O soule lurkinge in this wo unneste
Flee forth out of myn herte and lat it breste
And folwe alwey Criseyde thy lady dere
Thy righte place is now no lenger here
'O wofulle eyen two sin your disport
Was al to seen Criseydes eyen brighte
What shal ye doon but for my discomfort
Stonden for nought and wepen out your sighte
Sin she is queynt that wont was yow to lighte
In veyn fro-this-forth have I eyen tweye
Y-formed sin your vertue is a-weye
'O my Criseyde O lady sovereyne
Of thilke woful soule that thus cryeth
Who shal now yeven comfort to the peyne
Allas no wight but when myn herte dyeth
My spirit which that so un-to yow hyeth
Receyve in gree for that shal ay yow serve
For-thy no fors is though the body sterve
'O ye loveres that heighe upon the wheel
Ben set of Fortune in good aventure
God leve that ye finde ay love of steel
And longe mot your lyf in Ioye endure
But whan ye comen by my sepulture
Remembreth that your felawe resteth there
For I lovede eek though I unworthy were
'O olde unholsom and mislyved man
Calkas I mene allas What eyleth thee
To been a Greek sin thou art born Troian
O Calkas which that wilt my bane be
In cursed tyme was thou born for me
As wolde blisful Iove for his Ioye
That I thee hadde where I wolde in Troye
A thousand sykes hottere than the glede
Out of his brest ech after other wente
Medled with pleyntes newe his wo to fede
For which his woful teres never stente
And shortly so his peynes him to-rente
And wex so mat that Ioye nor penaunce
He feleth noon but lyth forth in a traunce
Pandare which that in the parlement
Hadde herd what every lord and burgeys seyde
And how ful graunted was by oon assent
For Antenor to yelden so Criseyde
Gan wel neigh wood out of his wit to breyde
So that for wo he niste what he mente
But in a rees to Troilus he wente
A certeyn knight that for the tyme kepte
The chaumbre-dore un-dide it him anoon
And Pandare that ful tendreliche wepte
In-to the derke chaumbre as stille as stoon
Toward the bed gan softely to goon
So confus that he niste what to seye
For verray wo his wit was neigh aweye
And with his chere and loking al to-torn
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
This woful wight this Troilus that felte
His freend Pandare y-comen him to see
Gan as the snow ayein the sonne melte
For which this sorwful Pandare of pitee
Gan for to wepe as tendreliche as he
And specheles thus been thise ilke tweye
That neyther mighte o word for sorwe seye
But at the laste this woful Troilus
Ney deed for smert gan bresten out to rore
And with a sorwful noyse he seyde thus
Among his sobbes and his sykes sore
'Lo Pandare I am deed with-outen more
Hastow nought herd at parlement' he seyde
'For Antenor how lost is my Criseyde
This Pandarus ful deed and pale of hewe
Ful pitously answerde and seyde 'Yis
As wisly were it fals as it is trewe
That I have herd and wot al how it is
O mercy god who wolde have trowed this
Who wolde have wend that in so litel a throwe
Fortune our Ioye wolde han over-throwe
'For in this world ther is no creature
As to my doom that ever saw ruyne
Straungere than this thorugh cas or aventure
But who may al eschewe or al devyne
Swich is this world for-thy I thus defyne
Ne trust no wight to finden in Fortune
Ay propretee hir yeftes been comune
'But tel me this why thou art now so mad
To sorwen thus Why lystow in this wyse
Sin thy desyr al holly hastow had
So that by right it oughte y-now suffyse
But I that never felte in my servyse
A frendly chere or loking of an ye
Lat me thus wepe and wayle til I dye
'And over al this as thou wel wost thy-selve
This town is ful of ladies al aboute
And to my doom fairer than swiche twelve
As ever she was shal I finde in som route
Ye oon or two with-outen any doute
For-thy be glad myn owene dere brother
If she be lost we shal recovere another
'What god for-bede alwey that ech plesaunce
In o thing were and in non other wight
If oon can singe another can wel daunce
If this be goodly she is glad and light
And this is fayr and that can good a-right
Ech for his vertu holden is for dere
Bothe heroner and faucon for rivere
'And eek as writ Zanzis that was ful wys
The newe love out chaceth ofte the olde
And up-on newe cas lyth newe avys
Thenk eek thy-self to saven artow holde
Swich fyr by proces shal of kinde colde
For sin it is but casuel plesaunce
Som cas shal putte it out of remembraunce
'For al-so seur as day cometh after night
The newe love labour or other wo
Or elles selde seinge of a wight
Don olde affecciouns alle over-go
And for thy part thou shalt have oon of tho
To abrigge with thy bittre peynes smerte
Absence of hir shal dryve hir out of herte
Thise wordes seyde he for the nones alle
To helpe his freend lest he for sorwe deyde
For douteles to doon his wo to falle
He roughte not what unthrift that he seyde
But Troilus that neigh for sorwe deyde
Tok litel hede of al that ever he mente
Oon ere it herde at the other out it wente
But at the laste answerde and seyde 'Freend
This lechecraft or heled thus to be
Were wel sitting if that I were a feend
To traysen hir that trewe is unto me
I pray god lat this consayl never y-thee
But do me rather sterve anon-right here
Er I thus do as thou me woldest lere
'She that I serve y-wis what so thou seye
To whom myn herte enhabit is by right
Shal han me holly hires til that I deye
For Pandarus sin I have trouthe hir hight
I wol not been untrewe for no wight
But as hir man I wol ay live and sterve
And never other creature serve
'And ther thou seyst thou shalt as faire finde
As she lat be make no comparisoun
To creature y-formed here by kinde
O leve Pandare in conclusioun
I wol not be of thyn opinioun
Touching al this for whiche I thee biseche
So hold thy pees thou sleest me with thy speche
'Thow biddest me I sholde love an-other
Al freshly newe and lat Criseyde go
It lyth not in my power leve brother
And though I mighte I wolde not do so
But canstow pleyen raket to and fro
Netle in dokke out now this now that Pandare
Now foule falle hir for thy wo that care
'Thow farest eek by me thou Pandarus
As he that whan a wight is wo bi-goon
He cometh to him a pas and seyth right thus
Thenk not on smert and thou shalt fele noon
Thou most me first transmuwen in a stoon
And reve me my passiounes alle
Er thou so lightly do my wo to falle
'The deeth may wel out of my brest departe
The lyf so longe may this sorwe myne
But fro my soule shal Criseydes darte
Out never-mo but doun with Proserpyne
Whan I am deed I wol go wone in pyne
And ther I wol eternaly compleyne
My wo and how that twinned be we tweyne
'Thow hast here maad an argument for fyn
How that it sholde a lasse peyne be
Criseyde to for-goon for she was myn
And live in ese and in felicitee
Why gabbestow that seydest thus to me
That him is wors that is fro wele y-throwe
Than he hadde erst non of that wele y-knowe
'But tel me now sin that thee thinketh so light
To chaungen so in love ay to and fro
Why hastow not don bisily thy might
To chaungen hir that doth thee al thy wo
Why niltow lete hir fro thyn herte go
Why niltow love an-other lady swete
That may thyn herte setten in quiete
'If thou hast had in love ay yet mischaunce
And canst it not out of thyn herte dryve
I that livede in lust and in plesaunce
With hir as muche as creature on-lyve
How sholde I that foryete and that so blyve
O where hastow ben hid so longe in muwe
That canst so wel and formely arguwe
'Nay nay god wot nought worth is al thy reed
For which for what that ever may bifalle
With-outen wordes mo I wol be deed
O deeth that endere art of sorwes alle
Com now sin I so ofte after thee calle
For sely is that deeth soth for to seyne
That ofte y-cleped cometh and endeth peyne
'Wel wot I whyl my lyf was in quiete
Er thou me slowe I wolde have yeven hyre
But now thy cominge is to me so swete
That in this world I no-thing so desyre
O deeth sin with this sorwe I am a-fyre
Thou outher do me anoon yn teres drenche
Or with thy colde strook myn hete quenche
'Sin that thou sleest so fele in sondry wyse
Ayens hir wil unpreyed day and night
Do me at my requeste this servyse
Delivere now the world so dostow right
Of me that am the wofulleste wight
That ever was for tyme is that I sterve
Sin in this world of right nought may I serve
This Troilus in teres gan distille
As licour out of alambyk ful faste
And Pandarus gan holde his tunge stille
And to the ground his eyen doun he caste
But nathelees thus thoughte he at the laste
'What parde rather than my felawe deye
Yet shal I som-what more un-to him seye
And seyde 'Freend sin thou hast swich distresse
And sin thee list myn arguments to blame
Why nilt thy-selven helpen doon redresse
And with thy manhod letten al this grame
Go ravisshe hir ne canstow not for shame
And outher lat hir out of toune fare
Or hold hir stille and leve thy nyce fare
'Artow in Troye and hast non hardiment
To take a womman which that loveth thee
And wolde hir-selven been of thyn assent
Now is not this a nyce vanitee
Rys up anoon and lat this weping be
And kyth thou art a man for in this houre
I wil be deed or she shal bleven oure
To this answerde him Troilus ful softe
And seyde 'Parde leve brother dere
Al this have I my-self yet thought ful ofte
And more thing than thou devysest here
But why this thing is laft thou shalt wel here
And whan thou me hast yeve an audience
Ther-after mayst thou telle al thy sentence
'First sin thou wost this toun hath al this werre
For ravisshing of wommen so by might
It sholde not be suffred me to erre
As it stant now ne doon so gret unright
I sholde han also blame of every wight
My fadres graunt if that I so withstode
Sin she is chaunged for the tounes goode
'I have eek thought so it were hir assent
To aske hir at my fader of his grace
Than thenke I this were hir accusement
Sin wel I woot I may hir not purchace
For sin my fader in so heigh a place
As parlement hath hir eschaunge enseled
He nil for me his lettre be repeled
'Yet drede I most hir herte to pertourbe
With violence if I do swich a game
For if I wolde it openly distourbe
It moste been disclaundre to hir name
And me were lever deed than hir defame
As nolde god but-if I sholde have
Hir honour lever than my lyf to save
'Thus am I lost for ought that I can see
For certeyn is sin that I am hir knight
I moste hir honour levere han than me
In every cas as lovere oughte of right
Thus am I with desyr and reson twight
Desyr for to destourben hir me redeth
And reson nil not so myn herte dredeth
Thus wepinge that he coude never cesse
He seyde 'Allas How shal I wrecche fare
For wel fele I alwey my love encresse
And hope is lasse and lasse alwey Pandare
Encressen eek the causes of my care
So wel-a-wey why nil myn herte breste
For as in love ther is but litel reste
Pandare answerde 'Freend thou mayst for me
Don as thee list but hadde ich it so hote
And thyn estat she sholde go with me
Though al this toun cryede on this thing by note
I nolde sette at al that noyse a grote
For when men han wel cryed than wol they roune
A wonder last but nyne night never in toune
'Devyne not in reson ay so depe
Ne curteysly but help thy-self anoon
Bet is that othere than thy-selven wepe
And namely sin ye two been al oon
Rys up for by myn heed she shal not goon
And rather be in blame a lyte y-founde
Than sterve here as a gnat with-oute wounde
'It is no shame un-to yow ne no vyce
Hir to with-holden that ye loveth most
Paraunter she mighte holden thee for nyce
To lete hir go thus to the Grekes ost
Thenk eek Fortune as wel thy-selven wost
Helpeth hardy man to his enpryse
And weyveth wrecches for hir cowardyse
'And though thy lady wolde a litel hir greve
Thou shalt thy pees ful wel here-after make
But as for me certayn I can not leve
That she wolde it as now for yvel take
Why sholde than for ferd thyn herte quake
Thenk eek how Paris hath that is thy brother
A love and why shaltow not have another
'And Troilus o thing I dar thee swere
That if Criseyde whiche that is thy leef
Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here
God helpe me so she nil nat take a-greef
Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef
And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe
Thanne is she fals so love hir wel the lasse
'For-thy tak herte and thenk right as a knight
Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe
Kyth now sumwhat thy corage and thy might
Have mercy on thy-self for any awe
Lat not this wrecched wo thin herte gnawe
But manly set the world on sixe and sevene
And if thou deye a martir go to hevene
'I wol my-self be with thee at this dede
Though ich and al my kin up-on a stounde
Shulle in a strete as dogges liggen dede
Thourgh-girt with many a wyd and blody wounde
In every cas I wol a freend be founde
And if thee list here sterven as a wrecche
A-dieu the devel spede him that it recche
This Troilus gan with tho wordes quiken
And seyde 'Freend graunt mercy ich assente
But certaynly thou mayst not me so priken
Ne peyne noon ne may me so tormente
That for no cas it is not myn entente
At shorte wordes though I dyen sholde
To ravisshe hir but-if hir-self it wolde
'Why so mene I' quod Pandarus 'al this day
But tel me than hastow hir wil assayed
That sorwest thus' And he answerde 'Nay
'Wher-of artow' quod Pandare 'than a-mayed
That nost not that she wol ben y-vel apayed
To ravisshe hir sin thou hast not ben there
But-if that Iove tolde it in thyn ere
'For-thy rys up as nought ne were anoon
And wash thy face and to the king thou wende
Or he may wondren whider thou art goon
Thou most with wisdom him and othere blende
Or up-on cas he may after thee sende
Er thou be war and shortly brother dere
Be glad and lat me werke in this matere
'For I shal shape it so that sikerly
Thou shalt this night som tyme in som manere
Com speke with thy lady prevely
And by hir wordes eek and by hir chere
Thou shalt ful sone aperceyve and wel here
Al hir entente and in this cas the beste
And fare now wel for in this point I reste
The swifte Fame whiche that false thinges
Egal reporteth lyk the thinges trewe
Was thorugh-out Troye y-fled with preste winges
Fro man to man and made this tale al newe
How Calkas doughter with hir brighte hewe
At parlement with-oute wordes more
I-graunted was in chaunge of Antenore
The whiche tale anoon-right as Criseyde
Had herd she which that of hir fader roughte
As in this cas right nought ne whanne he deyde
Ful bisily to Iuppiter bisoughte
Yeve hem mischaunce that this tretis broughte
But shortly lest thise tales sothe were
She dorste at no wight asken it for fere
As she that hadde hir herte and al hir minde
On Troilus y-set so wonder faste
That al this world ne mighte hir love unbinde
Ne Troilus out of hir herte caste
She wol ben his whyl that hir lyf may laste
And thus she brenneth bothe in love and drede
So that she niste what was best to rede
But as men seen in toune and al aboute
That wommen usen frendes to visyte
So to Criseyde of wommen com a route
For pitous Ioye and wenden hir delyte
And with hir tales dere y-nough a myte
These wommen whiche that in the cite dwelle
They sette hem doun and seyde as I shal telle
Quod first that oon 'I am glad trewely
By-cause of yow that shal your fader see
A-nother seyde 'Y-wis so nam not I
For al to litel hath she with us be
Quod tho the thridde 'I hope y-wis that she
Shal bringen us the pees on every syde
That whan she gooth almighty god hir gyde
Tho wordes and tho wommanisshe thinges
She herde hem right as though she thennes were
For god it wot hir herte on other thing is
Although the body sat among hem there
Hir advertence is alwey elles-where
For Troilus ful faste hir soule soughte
With-outen word alwey on him she thoughte
Thise wommen that thus wenden hir to plese
Aboute nought gonne alle hir tales spende
Swich vanitee ne can don hir non ese
As she that al this mene whyle brende
Of other passioun than that they wende
So that she felte almost hir herte deye
For wo and wery of that companye
For which no lenger mighte she restreyne
Hir teres so they gonnen up to welle
That yaven signes of the bitter peyne
In whiche hir spirit was and moste dwelle
Remembring hir fro heven unto which helle
She fallen was sith she forgoth the sighte
Of Troilus and sorowfully she sighte
And thilke foles sittinge hir aboute
Wenden that she wepte and syked sore
By-cause that she sholde out of that route
Departe and never pleye with hem more
And they that hadde y-knowen hir of yore
Seye hir so wepe and thoughte it kindenesse
And eche of hem wepte eek for hir destresse
And bisily they gonnen hir conforten
Of thing god wot on which she litel thoughte
And with hir tales wenden hir disporten
And to be glad they often hir bisoughte
But swich an ese ther-with they hir wroughte
Right as a man is esed for to fele
For ache of heed to clawen him on his hele
But after al this nyce vanitee
They took hir leve and hoom they wenten alle
Criseyde ful of sorweful pitee
In-to hir chaumbre up wente out of the halle
And on hir bed she gan for deed to falle
In purpos never thennes for to ryse
And thus she wroughte as I shal yow devyse
Hir ounded heer that sonnish was of hewe
She rente and eek hir fingres longe and smale
She wrong ful ofte and bad god on hir rewe
And with the deeth to doon bote on hir bale
Hir hewe whylom bright that tho was pale
Bar witnes of hir wo and hir constreynte
And thus she spak sobbinge in hir compleynte
'Alas' quod she 'out of this regioun
I woful wrecche and infortuned wight
And born in corsed constellacioun
Mot goon and thus departen fro my knight
Wo worth allas That ilke dayes light
On which I saw him first with eyen tweyne
That causeth me and I him al this peyne
Therwith the teres from hir eyen two
Doun fille as shour in Aperill ful swythe
Hir whyte brest she bet and for the wo
After the deeth she cryed a thousand sythe
Sin he that wont hir wo was for to lythe
She mot for-goon for which disaventure
She held hir-self a forlost creature
She seyde 'How shal he doon and I also
How sholde I live if that I from him twinne
O dere herte eek that I love so
Who shal that sorwe sleen that ye ben inne
O Calkas fader thyn be al this sinne
O moder myn that cleped were Argyve
Wo worth that day that thou me bere on lyve
'To what fyn sholde I live and sorwen thus
How sholde a fish with-oute water dure
What is Criseyde worth from Troilus
How sholde a plaunte or lyves creature
Live with-oute his kinde noriture
For which ful oft a by-word here I seye
That rotelees mot grene sone deye
'I shal don thus sin neither swerd ne darte
Dar I non handle for the crueltee
That ilke day that I from yow departe
If sorwe of that nil not my bane be
Than shal no mete or drinke come in me
Til I my soule out of my breste unshethe
And thus my-selven wol I do to dethe
'And Troilus my clothes everichoon
Shul blake been in tokeninge herte swete
That I am as out of this world agoon
That wont was yow to setten in quiete
And of myn ordre ay til deeth me mete
The observaunce ever in your absence
Shal sorwe been compleynte and abstinence
'Myn herte and eek the woful goost ther-inne
Biquethe I with your spirit to compleyne
Eternally for they shal never twinne
For though in erthe y-twinned be we tweyne
Yet in the feld of pitee out of peyne
That hight Elysos shul we been y-fere
As Orpheus and Erudice his fere
'Thus herte myn for Antenor allas
I sone shal be chaunged as I wene
But how shul ye don in this sorwful cas
How shal youre tendre herte this sustene
But herte myn for-yet this sorwe and tene
And me also for soothly for to seye
So ye wel fare I recche not to deye
How mighte it ever y-red ben or y-songe
The pleynte that she made in hir distresse
I noot but as for me my litel tonge
If I discreven wolde hir hevinesse
It sholde make hir sorwe seme lesse
Than that it was and childishly deface
Hir heigh compleynte and therfore I it pace
Pandare which that sent from Troilus
Was to Criseyde as ye han herd devyse
That for the beste it was accorded thus
And he ful glad to doon him that servyse
Un-to Criseyde in a ful secree wyse
Ther-as she lay in torment and in rage
Com hir to telle al hoolly his message
And fond that she hir-selven gan to trete
Ful pitously for with hir salte teres
Hir brest hir face y-bathed was ful wete
The mighty tresses of hir sonnish heres
Unbroyden hangen al aboute hir eres
Which yaf him verray signal of martyre
Of deeth which that hir herte gan desyre
Whan she him saw she gan for sorwe anoon
Hir tery face a-twixe hir armes hide
For which this Pandare is so wo bi-goon
That in the hous he mighte unnethe abyde
As he that pitee felte on every syde
For if Criseyde hadde erst compleyned sore
Tho gan she pleyne a thousand tymes more
And in hir aspre pleynte than she seyde
'Pandare first of Ioyes mo than two
Was cause causinge un-to me Criseyde
That now transmuwed been in cruel wo
Wher shal I seye to yow wel come or no
That alderfirst me broughte in-to servyse
Of love allas That endeth in swich wyse
'Endeth than love in wo Ye or men lyeth
And alle worldly blisse as thinketh me
The ende of blisse ay sorwe it occupyeth
And who-so troweth not that it so be
Lat him upon me woful wrecche y-see
That my-self hate and ay my birthe acorse
Felinge alwey fro wikke I go to worse
'Who-so me seeth he seeth sorwe al at ones
Peyne torment pleynte wo distresse
Out of my woful body harm ther noon is
As anguish langour cruel bitternesse
A-noy smert drede fury and eek siknesse
I trowe y-wis from hevene teres reyne
For pitee of myn aspre and cruel peyne 
'And thou my suster ful of discomfort
Quod Pandarus 'what thenkestow to do
Why ne hastow to thy-selven som resport
Why woltow thus thy-selve allas for-do
Leef al this werk and tak now hede to
That I shal seyn and herkne of good entente
This which by me thy Troilus thee sente
Torned hir tho Criseyde a wo makinge
So greet that it a deeth was for to see  
'Allas' quod she 'what wordes may ye bringe
What wol my dere herte seyn to me
Which that I drede never-mo to see
Wol he have pleynte or teres er I wende
I have y-nowe if he ther-after sende
She was right swich to seen in hir visage
As is that wight that men on bere binde
Hir face lyk of Paradys the image
Was al y-chaunged in another kinde
The pleye the laughtre men was wont to finde
On hir and eek hir Ioyes everychone
Ben fled and thus lyth now Criseyde allone
Aboute hir eyen two a purpre ring
Bi-trent in sothfast tokninge of hir peyne
That to biholde it was a dedly thing
For which Pandare mighte not restreyne
The teres from his eyen for to reyne
But nathelees as he best mighte he seyde
From Troilus thise wordes to Criseyde
'Lo nece I trowe ye han herd al how
The king with othere lordes for the beste
Hath mad eschaunge of Antenor and yow
That cause is of this sorwe and this unreste
But how this cas doth Troilus moleste
That may non erthely mannes tonge seye
For verray wo his wit is al aweye
'For which we han so sorwed he and I
That in-to litel bothe it hadde us slawe
But thurgh my conseil this day fynally
He somwhat is fro weping now with-drawe
And semeth me that he desyreth fawe
With yow to been al night for to devyse
Remede in this if ther were any wyse
'This short and pleyne theffect of my message
As ferforth as my wit can comprehende
For ye that been of torment in swich rage
May to no long prologe as now entende
And her-upon ye may answere him sende
And for the love of god my nece dere
So leef this wo er Troilus be here
'Gret is my wo' quod she and sighte sore
As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse
'But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more
That love him bet than he him-self I gesse
Allas For me hath he swich hevinesse
Can he for me so pitously compleyne
Y-wis his sorwe doubleth al my peyne
'Grevous to me god wot is for to twinne
Quod she 'but yet it hardere is to me
To seen that sorwe which that he is inne
For wel wot I it wol my bane be
And deye I wol in certayn' tho quod she
'But bidde him come er deeth that thus me threteth
Dryve out that goost which in myn herte beteth
Thise wordes seyd she on hir armes two
Fil gruf and gan to wepe pitously
Quod Pandarus 'Allas Why do ye so
Syn wel ye woot the tyme is faste by
That he shal come Arys up hastely
That he yow nat biwopen thus ne finde
But ye wol have him wood out of his minde
'For wiste he that ye ferde in this manere
He wolde him-selve slee and if I wende
To han this fare he sholde not come here
For al the good that Pryam may despende
For to what fyn he wolde anoon pretende
That knowe I wel and for-thy yet I seye
So leef this sorwe or platly he wol deye
'And shapeth yow his sorwe for to abregge
And nought encresse leve nece swete
Beth rather to him cause of flat than egge
And with som wysdom ye his sorwes bete
What helpeth it to wepen ful a strete
Or though ye bothe in salte teres dreynte
Bet is a tyme of cure ay than of pleynte
'I mene thus whan I him hider bringe
Sin ye ben wyse and bothe of oon assent
So shapeth how distourbe your goinge
Or come ayen sone after ye be went
Wommen ben wyse in short avysement
And lat sen how your wit shal now avayle
And what that I may helpe it shal not fayle
'Go' quod Criseyde 'and uncle trewely
I shal don al my might me to restreyne
From weping in his sighte and bisily
Him for to glade I shal don al my peyne
And in myn herte seken every veyne
If to this soor ther may be founden salve
It shal not lakken certain on myn halve
Goth Pandarus and Troilus he soughte
Til in a temple he fond him allone
As he that of his lyf no lenger roughte
But to the pitouse goddes everichone
Ful tendrely he preyde and made his mone
To doon him sone out of this world to pace
For wel he thoughte ther was non other grace
And shortly al the sothe for to seye
He was so fallen in despeyr that day
That outrely he shoop him for to deye
For right thus was his argument alwey
He seyde he nas but loren waylawey
'For al that comth comth by necessitee
Thus to be lorn it is my destinee
'For certaynly this wot I wel' he seyde
'That for-sight of divyne purveyaunce
Hath seyn alwey me to for-gon Criseyde
Sin god seeth every thing out of doutaunce
And hem disponeth thourgh his ordenaunce
In hir merytes sothly for to be
As they shul comen by predestinee
'But nathelees allas Whom shal I leve
For ther ben grete clerkes many oon
That destinee thorugh argumentes preve
And som men seyn that nedely ther is noon
But that free chois is yeven us everichoon
O welaway So sleye arn clerkes olde
That I not whos opinion I may holde
'For som men seyn if god seth al biforn
Ne god may not deceyved ben pardee
Than moot it fallen though men hadde it sworn
That purveyaunce hath seyn bifore to be
Wherfor I seye that from eterne if he
Hath wist biforn our thought eek as our dede
We have no free chois as these clerkes rede
'For other thought nor other dede also
Might never be but swich as purveyaunce
Which may not ben deceyved never-mo
Hath feled biforn with-outen ignoraunce
For if ther mighte been a variaunce
To wrythen out fro goddes purveyinge
Ther nere no prescience of thing cominge
'But it were rather an opinioun
Uncerteyn and no stedfast forseinge
And certes that were an abusioun
That god shuld han no parfit cleer witinge
More than we men that han doutous weninge
But swich an errour up-on god to gesse
Were fals and foul and wikked corsednesse
'Eek this is an opinioun of somme
That han hir top ful heighe and smothe y-shore
They seyn right thus that thing is not to come
For that the prescience hath seyn bifore
That it shal come but they seyn that therfore
That it shal come therfore the purveyaunce
Wot it biforn with-outen ignoraunce
'And in this manere this necessitee
Retorneth in his part contrarie agayn
For needfully bihoveth it not to be
That thilke thinges fallen in certayn
That ben purveyed but nedely as they seyn
Bihoveth it that thinges whiche that falle
That they in certayn ben purveyed alle
'I mene as though I laboured me in this
To enqueren which thing cause of which thing be
As whether that the prescience of god is
The certayn cause of the necessitee
Of thinges that to comen been pardee
Or if necessitee of thing cominge
Be cause certeyn of the purveyinge
'But now ne enforce I me nat in shewinge
How the ordre of causes stant but wel wot I
That it bihoveth that the bifallinge
Of thinges wist biforen certeynly
Be necessarie al seme it not ther-by
That prescience put falling necessaire
To thing to come al falle it foule or faire
'For if ther sit a man yond on a see
Than by necessitee bihoveth it
That certes thyn opinioun soth be
That wenest or coniectest that he sit
And ferther-over now ayenward yit
Lo right so it is of the part contrarie
As thus now herkne for I wol not tarie
'I seye that if the opinioun of thee
Be sooth for that he sit than seye I this
That he mot sitten by necessitee
And thus necessitee in either is
For in him nede of sittinge is y-wis
And in thee nede of sooth and thus forsothe
Ther moot necessitee ben in yow bothe
'But thou mayst seyn the man sit not therfore
That thyn opinioun of sitting soth is
But rather for the man sit ther bifore
Therfore is thyn opinioun sooth y-wis
And I seye though the cause of sooth of this
Comth of his sitting yet necessitee
Is entrechaunged bothe in him and thee
'Thus on this same wyse out of doutaunce
I may wel maken as it semeth me
My resoninge of goddes purveyaunce
And of the thinges that to comen be
By whiche reson men may wel y-see
That thilke thinges that in erthe falle
That by necessitee they comen alle
'For al-though that for thing shal come y-wis
Therfore is it purveyed certaynly
Nat that it comth for it purveyed is
Yet nathelees bihoveth it nedfully
That thing to come be purveyed trewely
Or elles thinges that purveyed be
That they bityden by necessitee
'And this suffyseth right y-now certeyn
For to destroye our free chois every del  
But now is this abusion to seyn
That fallinge of the thinges temporel
Is cause of goddes prescience eternel
Now trewely that is a fals sentence
That thing to come sholde cause his prescience
'What mighte I wene and I hadde swich a thought
But that god purveyth thing that is to come
For that it is to come and elles nought
So mighte I wene that thinges alle and some
That whylom been bifalle and over-come
Ben cause of thilke sovereyn purveyaunce
That for-wot al with-outen ignoraunce
'And over al this yet seye I more herto
That right as whan I woot ther is a thing
Y-wis that thing mot nedefully be so
Eek right so whan I woot a thing coming
So mot it come and thus the bifalling
Of thinges that ben wist bifore the tyde
They mowe not been eschewed on no syde
Than seyde he thus 'Almighty Iove in trone
That wost of al this thing the soothfastnesse
Rewe on my sorwe or do me deye sone
Or bring Criseyde and me fro this distresse
And whyl he was in al this hevinesse
Disputinge with him-self in this matere
Com Pandare in and seyde as ye may here
'O mighty god' quod Pandarus 'in trone
Ey Who seigh ever a wys man faren so
Why Troilus what thenkestow to done
Hastow swich lust to been thyn owene fo
What parde yet is not Criseyde a-go
Why list thee so thy-self for-doon for drede
That in thyn heed thyn eyen semen dede
'Hastow not lived many a yeer biforn
With-outen hir and ferd ful wel at ese
Artow for hir and for non other born
Hath kinde thee wroughte al-only hir to plese
Lat be and thenk right thus in thy disese
That in the dees right as ther fallen chaunces
Right so in love ther come and goon plesaunces
'And yet this is a wonder most of alle
Why thou thus sorwest sin thou nost not yit
Touching hir goinge how that it shal falle
Ne if she can hir-self distorben it
Thou hast not yet assayed al hir wit
A man may al by tyme his nekke bede
Whan it shal of and sorwen at the nede
'For-thy take hede of that that I shal seye
I have with hir y-spoke and longe y-be
So as accorded was bitwixe us tweye
And ever-mor me thinketh thus that she
Hath som-what in hir hertes prevetee
Wher-with she can if I shal right arede
Distorbe al this of which thou art in drede
'For which my counseil is whan it is night
Thou to hir go and make of this an ende
And blisful Iuno thourgh hir grete mighte
Shal as I hope hir grace un-to us sende
Myn herte seyth Certeyn she shal not wende
And for-thy put thyn herte a whyle in reste
And hold this purpos for it is the beste
This Troilus answerde and sighte sore
'Thou seyst right wel and I wil do right so
And what him liste he seyde un-to it more
And whan that it was tyme for to go
Ful prevely him-self with-outen mo
Un-to hir com as he was wont to done
And how they wroughte I shal yow telle sone
Soth is that whan they gonne first to mete
So gan the peyne hir hertes for to twiste
That neither of hem other mighte grete
But hem in armes toke and after kiste
The lasse wofulle of hem bothe niste
Wher that he was ne mighte o word out-bringe
As I seyde erst for wo and for sobbinge
Tho woful teres that they leten falle
As bittre weren out of teres kinde
For peyne as is ligne aloes or galle
So bittre teres weep nought as I finde
The woful Myrra through the bark and rinde
That in this world ther nis so hard an herte
That nolde han rewed on hir peynes smerte
But whan hir woful wery gostes tweyne
Retorned been ther-as hem oughte dwelle
And that som-what to wayken gan the peyne
By lengthe of pleynte and ebben gan the welle
Of hire teres and the herte unswelle
With broken voys al hoors for-shright Criseyde
To Troilus thise ilke wordes seyde
'O Iove I deye and mercy I beseche
Help Troilus' And ther-with-al hir face
Upon his brest she leyde and loste speche
Hir woful spirit from his propre place
Right with the word alwey up poynt to pace
And thus she lyth with hewes pale and grene
That whylom fresh and fairest was to sene
This Troilus that on hir gan biholde
Clepinge hir name and she lay as for deed
With-oute answere and felte hir limes colde
Hir eyen throwen upward to hir heed
This sorwful man can now noon other reed
But ofte tyme hir colde mouth he kiste
Wher him was wo god and him-self it wiste
He rist him up and long streight he hir leyde
For signe of lyf for ought he can or may
Can he noon finde in no-thing on Criseyde
For which his song ful ofte is 'weylaway
But whan he saugh that specheles she lay
With sorwful voys and herte of blisse al bare
He seyde how she was fro this world y-fare
So after that he longe hadde hir compleyned
His hondes wrong and seyde that was to seye
And with his teres salte hir brest bireyned
He gan tho teris wypen of ful dreye
And pitously gan for the soule preye
And seyde 'O lord that set art in thy trone
Rewe eek on me for I shal folwe hir sone
She cold was and with-outen sentement
For aught he woot for breeth ne felte he noon
And this was him a preignant argument
That she was forth out of this world agoon
And whan he seigh ther was non other woon
He gan hir limes dresse in swich manere
As men don hem that shul be leyd on bere
And after this with sterne and cruel herte
His swerd a-noon out of his shethe he twighte
Him-self to sleen how sore that him smerte
So that his sowle hir sowle folwen mighte
Ther-as the doom of Mynos wolde it dighte
Sin love and cruel Fortune it ne wolde
That in this world he lenger liven sholde
Thanne seyde he thus fulfild of heigh desdayn
'O cruel Iove and thou Fortune adverse
This al and som that falsly have ye slayn
Criseyde and sin ye may do me no werse
Fy on your might and werkes so diverse
Thus cowardly ye shul me never winne
Ther shal no deeth me fro my lady twinne
'For I this world sin ye han slayn hir thus
Wol lete and folowe hir spirit lowe or hye
Shal never lover seyn that Troilus
Dar not for fere with his lady dye
For certeyn I wol bere hir companye
But sin ye wol not suffre us liven here
Yet suffreth that our soules ben y-fere
'And thou citee whiche that I leve in wo
And thou Pryam and bretheren al y-fere
And thou my moder farwel For I go
And Attropos make redy thou my bere
And thou Criseyde o swete herte dere
Receyve now my spirit' wolde he seye
With swerd at herte al redy for to deye
But as god wolde of swough ther-with she abreyde
And gan to syke and 'Troilus' she cryde
And he answerde 'Lady myn Criseyde
Live ye yet' and leet his swerd doun glyde
'Ye herte myn that thanked be Cupyde
Quod she and ther-with-al she sore sighte
And he bigan to glade hir as he mighte
Took hir in armes two and kiste hir ofte
And hir to glade he dide al his entente
For which hir goost that flikered ay on-lofte
In-to hir woful herte ayein it wente
But at the laste as that hir eyen glente
A-syde anoon she gan his swerd aspye
As it lay bare and gan for fere crye
And asked him why he it hadde out-drawe
And Troilus anoon the cause hir tolde
And how himself ther-with he wolde have slawe
For which Criseyde up-on him gan biholde
And gan him in hir armes faste folde
And seyde 'O mercy god lo which a dede
Allas How neigh we were bothe dede
'Thanne if I ne hadde spoken as grace was
Ye wolde han slayn your-self anoon' quod she
'Ye douteless' and she answerde 'Allas
For by that ilke lord that made me
I nolde a forlong wey on-lyve han be
After your deeth to han been crouned quene
Of al the lond the sonne on shyneth shene
'But with this selve swerd which that here is
My-selve I wolde han slayn'   quod she tho
'But ho for we han right y-now of this
And late us ryse and streight to bedde go
And there lat ys speken of oure wo
For by the morter which that I see brenne
Knowe I ful wel that day is not fer henne
Whan they were in hir bedde in armes folde
Nought was it lyk tho nightes here-biforn
For pitously ech other gan biholde
As they that hadden al hir blisse y-lorn
Biwaylinge ay the day that they were born
Til at the last this sorwful wight Criseyde
To Troilus these ilke wordes seyde  
'Lo herte myn wel wot ye this' quod she
'That if a wight alwey his wo compleyne
And seketh nought how holpen for to be
It nis but folye and encrees of peyne
And sin that here assembled be we tweyne
To finde bote of wo that we ben inne
It were al tyme sone to biginne
'I am a womman as ful wel ye woot
And as I am avysed sodeynly
So wol I telle yow whyl it is hoot
Me thinketh thus that nouther ye nor I
Oughte half this wo to make skilfully
For there is art y-now for to redresse
That yet is mis and sleen this hevinesse
'Sooth is the wo the whiche that we ben inne
For ought I woot for no-thing elles is
But for the cause that we sholden twinne
Considered al ther nis no-more amis
But what is thanne a remede un-to this
But that we shape us sone for to mete
This al and som my dere herte swete
'Now that I shal wel bringen it aboute
To come ayein sone after that I go
Ther-of am I no maner thing in doute
For dredeles with-inne a wouke or two
I shal ben here and that it may be so
By alle right and in a wordes fewe
I shal yow wel an heep of weyes shewe
'For which I wol not make long sermoun
For tyme y-lost may not recovered be
But I wol gon to my conclusioun
And to the beste in ought that I can see
And for the love of god for-yeve it me
If I speke ought ayein your hertes reste
For trewely I speke it for the beste
'Makinge alwey a protestacioun
That now these wordes whiche that I shal seye
Nis but to shewe yow my mocioun
To finde un-to our helpe the beste weye
And taketh it non other wyse I preye
For in effect what-so ye me comaunde
That wol I doon for that is no demaunde
'Now herkneth this ye han wel understonde
My goinge graunted is by parlement
So ferforth that it may not be with-stonde
For al this world as by my Iugement
And sin ther helpeth noon avysement
To letten it lat it passe out of minde
And lat us shape a bettre wey to finde
'The sothe is that the twinninge of us tweyne
Wol us disese and cruelliche anoye
But him bihoveth som-tyme han a peyne
That serveth love if that he wol have Ioye
And sin I shal no ferthere out of Troye
Than I may ryde ayein on half a morwe
It oughte lesse causen us to sorwe
'So as I shal not so ben hid in muwe
That day by day myn owene herte dere
Sin wel ye woot that it is now a trewe
Ye shal ful wel al myn estat y-here
And er that truwe is doon I shal ben here
And thanne have ye bothe Antenor y-wonne
And me also beth glad now if ye conne
'And thenk right thus Criseyde is now agoon
But what She shal come hastely ayeyn
And whanne allas By god lo right anoon
Er dayes ten this dar I saufly seyn
And thanne at erste shul we been so fayn
So as we shulle to-gederes ever dwelle
That al this world ne mighte our blisse telle
'I see that ofte ther-as we ben now
That for the beste our counseil for to hyde
Ye speke not with me nor I with yow
In fourtenight ne see yow go ne ryde
May ye not ten dayes thanne abyde
For myn honour in swich an aventure
Y-wis ye mowen elles lite endure
'Ye knowe eek how that al my kin is here
But-if that onliche it my fader be
And eek myn othere thinges alle y-fere
And nameliche my dere herte ye
Whom that I nolde leven for to see
For al this world as wyd as it hath space
Or elles see ich never Ioves face
'Why trowe ye my fader in this wyse
Coveiteth so to see me but for drede
Lest in this toun that folkes me dispyse
By-cause of him for his unhappy dede
What woot my fader what lyf that I lede
For if he wiste in Troye how wel I fare
Us neded for my wending nought to care
'Ye seen that every day eek more and more
Men trete of pees and it supposed is
That men the quene Eleyne shal restore
And Grekes us restore that is mis
So though ther nere comfort noon but this
That men purposen pees on every syde
Ye may the bettre at ese of herte abyde
'For if that it be pees myn herte dere
The nature of the pees mot nedes dryve
That men moste entrecomunen y-fere
And to and fro eek ryde and gon as blyve
Alday as thikke as been flen from an hyve
And every wight han libertee to bleve
Where-as him list the bet with-outen leve
'And though so be that pees ther may be noon
Yet hider though ther never pees ne were
I moste come for whider sholde I goon
Or how mischaunce sholde I dwelle there
Among tho men of armes ever in fere
For which as wisly god my soule rede
I can not seen wher-of ye sholden drede
'Have here another wey if it so be
That al this thing ne may yow not suffyse
My fader as ye knowen wel pardee
Is old and elde is ful of coveityse
And I right now have founden al the gyse
With-oute net wher-with I shal him hente
And herkeneth how if that ye wole assente
'Lo Troilus men seyn that hard it is
The wolf ful and the wether hool to have
This is to seyn that men ful ofte y-wis
Mot spenden part the remenant for to save
For ay with gold men may the herte grave
Of him that set is up-on coveityse
And how I mene I shal it yow devyse
'The moeble which that I have in this toun
Un-to my fader shal I take and seye
That right for trust and for savacioun
It sent is from a freend of his or tweye
The whiche freendes ferventliche him preye
To senden after more and that in hye
Whyl that this toun stant thus in Iupartye
'And that shal been an huge quantitee
Thus shal I seyn but lest it folk aspyde
This may be sent by no wight but by me
I shal eek shewen him if pees bityde
What frendes that ich have on every syde
Toward the court to doon the wrathe pace
Of Priamus and doon him stonde in grace
'So what for o thing and for other swete
I shal him so enchaunten with my sawes
That right in hevene his sowle is shal he mete
For al Appollo or his clerkes lawes
Or calculinge avayleth nought three hawes
Desyr of gold shal so his sowle blende
That as me lyst I shal wel make an ende
'And if he wolde ought by his sort it preve
If that I lye in certayn I shal fonde
Distorben him and plukke him by the sleve
Makinge his sort and beren him on honde
He hath not wel the goddes understonde
For goddes speken in amphibologyes
And for o sooth they tellen twenty lyes
'Eek drede fond first goddes I suppose
Thus shal I seyn and that his cowarde herte
Made him amis the goddes text to glose
Whan he for ferde out of his Delphos sterte
And but I make him sone to converte
And doon my reed with-inne a day or tweye
I wol to yow oblige me to deye
And treweliche as writen wel I finde
That al this thing was seyd of good entente
And that hir herte trewe was and kinde
Towardes him and spak right as she mente
And that she starf for wo neigh whan she wente
And was in purpos ever to be trewe
Thus writen they that of hir werkes knewe
This Troilus with herte and eres spradde
Herde al this thing devysen to and fro
And verraylich him semed that he hadde
The selve wit but yet to lete hir go
His herte misforyaf him ever-mo
But fynally he gan his herte wreste
To trusten hir and took it for the beste
For which the grete furie of his penaunce
Was queynt with hope and ther-with hem bitwene
Bigan for Ioye the amorouse daunce
And as the briddes whan the sonne is shene
Delyten in hir song in leves grene
Right so the wordes that they spake y-fere
Delyted hem and made hir hertes clere
But natheles the wending of Criseyde
For al this world may nought out of his minde
For which ful ofte he pitously hir preyde
That of hir heste he might hir trewe finde
And seyde hire 'Certes if ye be unkinde
And but ye come at day set in-to Troye
Ne shal I never have hele honour ne Ioye
'For al-so sooth as sonne up-rist on morwe
And god So wisly thou me woful wrecche
To reste bringe out of this cruel sorwe
I wol my-selven slee if that ye drecche
But of my deeth though litel be to recche
Yet er that ye me cause so to smerte
Dwel rather here myn owene swete herte
'For trewely myn owene lady dere
Tho sleightes yet that I have herd yow stere
Ful shaply been to failen alle y-fere
For thus men seyn That oon thenketh the bere
But al another thenketh his ledere
Your sire is wys and seyd is out of drede
Men may the wyse at-renne and not at-rede
'It is ful hard to halten unespyed
Bifore a crepul for he can the craft
Your fader is in sleighte as Argus yed
For al be that his moeble is him biraft
His olde sleighte is yet so with him laft
Ye shal not blende him for your womanhede
Ne feyne a-right and that is al my drede
'I noot if pees shal ever-mo bityde
But pees or no for ernest ne for game
I woot sin Calkas on the Grekis syde
Hath ones been and lost so foule his name
He dar no more come here ayein for shame
For which that weye for ought I can espye
To trusten on nis but a fantasye
'Ye shal eek seen your fader shal yow glose
To been a wyf and as he can wel preche
He shal som Grek so preyse and wel alose
That ravisshen he shal yow with his speche
Or do yow doon by force as he shal teche
And Troilus of whom ye nil han routhe
Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe
'And over al this your fader shal despyse
Us alle and seyn this citee nis but lorn
And that thassege never shal aryse
For-why the Grekes han it alle sworn
Til we be slayn and doun our walles torn
And thus he shal yow with his wordes fere
That ay drede I that ye wol bleve there
'Ye shul eek seen so many a lusty knight
A-mong the Grekes ful of worthinesse
And eche of hem with herte wit and might
To plesen yow don al his besinesse
That ye shul dullen of the rudenesse
Of us sely Troianes but-if routhe
Remorde yow or vertue of your trouthe
'And this to me so grevous is to thinke
That fro my brest it wol my soule rende
Ne dredeles in me ther may not sinke
A good opinioun if that ye wende
For-why your faderes sleighte wol us shende
And if ye goon as I have told yow yore
So thenk I nam but deed with-oute more
'For which with humble trewe and pitous herte
A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye
So reweth on myn aspre peynes smerte
And doth somwhat as that I shal yow seye
And lat us stele away bitwixe us tweye
And thenk that folye is whan man may chese
For accident his substaunce ay to lese
'I mene this that sin we mowe er day
Wel stele away and been to-gider so
What wit were it to putten in assay
In cas ye sholden to your fader go
If that ye mighte come ayein or no
Thus mene I that it were a gret folye
To putte that sikernesse in Iupertye
'And vulgarly to speken of substaunce
Of tresour may we bothe with us lede
Y-nough to live in honour and plesaunce
Til in-to tyme that we shal ben dede
And thus we may eschewen al this drede
For everich other wey ye can recorde
Myn herte y-wis may not ther-with acorde
'And hardily ne dredeth no poverte
For I have kin and freendes elles-where
That though we comen in oure bare sherte
Us sholde neither lakke gold ne gere
But been honured whyl we dwelten there
And go we anoon for as in myn entente
This is the beste if that ye wole assente
Criseyde with a syk right in this wyse
Answerde 'Y-wis my dere herte trewe
We may wel stele away as ye devyse
And finde swich unthrifty weyes newe
But afterward ful sore it wol us rewe
And help me god so at my moste nede
As causeles ye suffren al this drede
'For thilke day that I for cherisshinge
Or drede of fader or of other wight
Or for estat delyt or for weddinge
Be fals to yow my Troilus my knight
Saturnes doughter Iuno thorugh hir might
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
Eternaly in Stix the put of helle
'And this on every god celestial
I swere it yow and eek on eche goddesse
On every Nymphe and deite infernal
On Satiry and Fauny more and lesse
That halve goddes been of wildernesse
And Attropos my threed of lyf to-breste
If I be fals now trowe me if thow leste
'And thou Simoys that as an arwe clere
Thorugh Troye rennest ay downward to the see
Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here
That thilke day that ich untrewe be
To Troilus myn owene herte free
That thou retorne bakwarde to thy welle
And I with body and soule sinke in helle
'But that ye speke awey thus for to go
And leten alle your freendes god for-bede
For any womman that ye sholden so
And namely sin Troye hath now swich nede
Of help and eek of o thing taketh hede
If this were wist my lif laye in balaunce
And your honour god shilde us fro mischaunce
'And if so be that pees her-after take
As alday happeth after anger game
Why lord The sorwe and wo ye wolden make
That ye ne dorste come ayein for shame
And er that ye Iuparten so your name
Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare
For hasty man ne wanteth never care
'What trowe ye the peple eek al aboute
Wolde of it seye It is ful light to arede
They wolden seye and swere it out of doute
That love ne droof yow nought to doon this dede
But lust voluptuous and coward drede
Thus were al lost y-wis myn herte dere
Your honour which that now shyneth so clere
'And also thenketh on myn honestee
That floureth yet how foule I sholde it shende
And with what filthe it spotted sholde be
If in this forme I sholde with yow wende
Ne though I livede un-to the worldes ende
My name sholde I never ayeinward winne
Thus were I lost and that were routhe and sinne
'And for-thy slee with reson al this hete
Men seyn The suffraunt overcometh pardee
Eek Who-so wol han leef he lief mot lete
Thus maketh vertue of necessitee
By pacience and thenk that lord is he
Of fortune ay that nought wol of hir recche
And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche
'And trusteth this that certes herte swete
Er Phebus suster Lucina the shene
The Leoun passe out of this Ariete
I wol ben here with-outen any wene
I mene as helpe me Iuno hevenes quene
The tenthe day but-if that deeth me assayle
I wol yow seen with-outen any fayle
'And now so this be sooth' quod Troilus
'I shal wel suffre un-to the tenthe day
Sin that I see that nede it moot be thus
But for the love of god if it be may
So lat us stele prively away
For ever in oon as for to live in reste
Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste
'O mercy god what lyf is this' quod she
'Allas ye slee me thus for verray tene
I see wel now that ye mistrusten me
For by your wordes it is wel y-sene
Now for the love of Cynthia the shene
Mistrust me not thus causeles for routhe
Sin to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe
'And thenketh wel that som tyme it is wit
To spende a tyme a tyme for to winne
Ne pardee lorn am I nought fro yow yit
Though that we been a day or two a-twinne
Dryf out the fantasyes yow with-inne
And trusteth me and leveth eek your sorwe
Or here my trouthe I wol not live til morwe
'For if ye wiste how sore it doth me smerte
Ye wolde cesse of this for god thou wost
The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte
To see yow wepen that I love most
And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost
Ye nere it that I wiste remedye
To come ayein right here I wolde dye
'But certes I am not so nyce a wight
That I ne can imaginen a wey
To come ayein that day that I have hight
For who may holde thing that wol a-way
My fader nought for al his queynte pley
And by my thrift my wending out of Troye
Another day shal torne us alle to Ioye
'For-thy with al myn herte I yow beseke
If that yow list don ought for my preyere
And for the love which that I love yow eke
That er that I departe fro yow here
That of so good a comfort and a chere
I may you seen that ye may bringe at reste
Myn herte which that is at point to breste
'And over al this I pray yow' quod she tho
'Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce
Sin I am thyn al hool with-outen mo
That whyl that I am absent no plesaunce
Of othere do me fro your remembraunce
For I am ever a-gast for-why men rede
That love is thing ay ful of bisy drede
'For in this world ther liveth lady noon
If that ye were untrewe as god defende
That so bitraysed were or wo bigoon
As I that alle trouthe in yow entende
And douteles if that ich other wende
I nere but deed and er ye cause finde
For goddes love so beth me not unkinde
To this answerde Troilus and seyde
'Now god to whom ther nis no cause y-wrye
Me glade as wis I never un-to Criseyde
Sin thilke day I saw hir first with ye
Was fals ne never shal til that I dye
At shorte wordes wel ye may me leve
I can no more it shal be founde at preve
'Graunt mercy goode myn y-wis' quod she
'And blisful Venus lat me never sterve
Er I may stonde of plesaunce in degree
To quyte him wel that so wel can deserve
And whyl that god my wit wol me conserve
I shal so doon so trewe I have yow founde
That ay honour to me-ward shal rebounde
'For trusteth wel that your estat royal
Ne veyn delyt nor only worthinesse
Of yow in werre or torney marcial
Ne pompe array nobley or eek richesse
Ne made me to rewe on your distresse
But moral vertue grounded upon trouthe
That was the cause I first hadde on yow routhe
'Eek gentil herte and manhod that ye hadde
And that ye hadde as me thoughte in despyt
Every thing that souned in-to badde
As rudenesse and poeplish appetyt
And that your reson brydled your delyt
This made aboven every creature
That I was your and shal whyl I may dure
'And this may lengthe of yeres not for-do
Ne remuable fortune deface
But Iuppiter that of his might may do
The sorwful to be glad so yeve us grace
Er nightes ten to meten in this place
So that it may your herte and myn suffyse
And fareth now wel for tyme is that ye ryse
And after that they longe y-pleyned hadde
And ofte y-kist and streite in armes folde
The day gan ryse and Troilus him cladde
And rewfulliche his lady gan biholde
As he that felte dethes cares colde
And to hir grace he gan him recomaunde
Wher him was wo this holde I no demaunde
For mannes heed imaginen ne can
Ne entendement considere ne tonge telle
The cruel peynes of this sorwful man
That passen every torment doun in helle
For whan he saugh that she ne mighte dwelle
Which that his soule out of his herte rente
With-outen more out of the chaumbre he wente
Aprochen gan the fatal destinee
That Ioves hath in disposicioun
And to yow angry Parcas sustren three
Committeth to don execucioun
For which Criseyde moste out of the toun
And Troilus shal dwelle forth in pyne
Til Lachesis his threed no lenger twyne  
The golden-tressed Phebus heighe on-lofte
Thryes hadde alle with his bemes shene
The snowes molte and Zephirus as ofte
Y-brought ayein the tendre leves grene
Sin that the sone of Ecuba the quene
Bigan to love hir first for whom his sorwe
Was al that she departe sholde a-morwe
Ful redy was at pryme Dyomede
Criseyde un-to the Grekes ost to lede
For sorwe of which she felt hir herte blede
As she that niste what was best to rede
And trewely as men in bokes rede
Men wiste never womman han the care
Ne was so looth out of a toun to fare
This Troilus with-outen reed or lore
As man that hath his Ioyes eek forlore
Was waytinge on his lady ever-more
As she that was the soothfast crop and more
Of al his lust or Ioyes here-tofore
But Troilus now farewel al thy Ioye
For shaltow never seen hir eft in Troye
Soth is that whyl he bood in this manere
He gan his wo ful manly for to hyde
That wel unnethe it seen was in his chere
But at the yate ther she sholde oute ryde
With certeyn folk he hoved hir tabyde
So wo bigoon al wolde he nought him pleyne
That on his hors unnethe he sat for peyne
For ire he quook so gan his herte gnawe
Whan Diomede on horse gan him dresse
And seyde un-to him-self this ilke sawe
'Allas' quod he 'thus foul a wrecchednesse
Why suffre ich it why nil ich it redresse
Were it not bet at ones for to dye
Than ever-more in langour thus to drye
'Why nil I make at ones riche and pore
To have y-nough to done er that she go
Why nil I bringe al Troye upon a rore
Why nil I sleen this Diomede also
Why nil I rather with a man or two
Stele hir a-way Why wol I this endure
Why nil I helpen to myn owene cure
But why he nolde doon so fel a dede
That shal I seyn and why him liste it spare
He hadde in herte alweyes a maner drede
Lest that Criseyde in rumour of this fare
Sholde han ben slayn lo this was al his care
And ellis certeyn as I seyde yore
He hadde it doon with-outen wordes more
Criseyde whan she redy was to ryde
Ful sorwfully she sighte and seyde 'Allas
But forth she moot for ought that may bityde
And forth she rit ful sorwfully a pas
Ther nis non other remedie in this cas
What wonder is though that hir sore smerte
Whan she forgoth hir owene swete herte
This Troilus in wyse of curteisye
With hauke on hond and with an huge route
Of knightes rood and dide hir companye
Passinge al the valey fer with-oute
And ferther wolde han riden out of doute
Ful fayn and wo was him to goon so sone
But torne he moste and it was eek to done
And right with that was Antenor y-come
Out of the Grekes ost and every wight
Was of it glad and seyde he was wel-come
And Troilus al nere his herte light
He peyned him with al his fulle might
Him to with-holde of wepinge at the leste
And Antenor he kiste and made feste
And ther-with-al he moste his leve take
And caste his eye upon hir pitously
And neer he rood his cause for to make
To take hir by the honde al sobrely
And lord So she gan wepen tendrely
And he ful softe and sleighly gan hir seye
'Now hold your day and dooth me not to deye
With that his courser torned he a-boute
With face pale and un-to Diomede
No word he spak ne noon of al his route
Of which the sone of Tydeus took hede
As he that coude more than the crede
In swich a craft and by the reyne hir hente
And Troilus to Troye homwarde he wente
This Diomede that ladde hir by the brydel
Whan that he saw the folk of Troye aweye
Thoughte 'Al my labour shal not been on ydel
If that I may for somwhat shal I seye
For at the worste it may yet shorte our weye
I have herd seyd eek tymes twyes twelve
He is a fool that wol for-yete him-selve
But natheles this thoughte he wel ynough
'That certaynly I am aboute nought
If that I speke of love or make it tough
For douteles if she have in hir thought
Him that I gesse he may not been y-brought
So sone awey but I shal finde a mene
That she not wite as yet shal what I mene
This Diomede as he that coude his good
Whan this was doon gan fallen forth in speche
Of this and that and asked why she stood
In swich disese and gan hir eek biseche
That if that he encrese mighte or eche
With any thing hir ese that she sholde
Comaunde it him and seyde he doon it wolde
For trewely he swoor hir as a knight
That ther nas thing with whiche he mighte hir plese
That he nolde doon his peyne and al his might
To doon it for to doon hir herte an ese
And preyede hir she wolde hir sorwe apese
And seyde 'Y-wis we Grekes con have Ioye
To honouren yow as wel as folk of Troye
He seyde eek thus 'I woot yow thinketh straunge
No wonder is for it is to yow newe
Thaqueintaunce of these Troianis to chaunge
For folk of Grece that ye never knewe
But wolde never god but-if as trewe
A Greek ye shulde among us alle finde
As any Troian is and eek as kinde
'And by the cause I swoor yow right lo now
To been your freend and helply to my might
And for that more aqueintaunce eek of yow
Have ich had than another straunger wight
So fro this forth I pray yow day and night
Comaundeth me how sore that me smerte
To doon al that may lyke un-to your herte
'And that ye me wolde as your brother trete
And taketh not my frendship in despyt
And though your sorwes be for thinges grete
Noot I not why but out of more respyt
Myn herte hath for to amende it greet delyt
And if I may your harmes not redresse
I am right sory for your hevinesse
'And though ye Troians with us Grekes wrothe
Han many a day be alwey yet pardee
O god of love in sooth we serven bothe
And for the love of god my lady free
Whom so ye hate as beth not wroth with me
For trewely ther can no wight yow serve
That half so looth your wraththe wolde deserve
'And nere it that we been so neigh the tente
Of Calkas which that seen us bothe may
I wolde of this yow telle al myn entente
But this enseled til another day
Yeve me your hond I am and shal ben ay
God help me so whyl that my lyf may dure
Your owene aboven every creature
'Thus seyde I never er now to womman born
For god myn herte as wisly glade so
I lovede never womman here-biforn
As paramours ne never shal no mo
And for the love of god beth not my fo
Al can I not to yow my lady dere
Compleyne aright for I am yet to lere
'And wondreth not myn owene lady bright
Though that I speke of love to you thus blyve
For I have herd or this of many a wight
Hath loved thing he never saugh his lyve
Eek I am not of power for to stryve
Ayens the god of love but him obeye
I wol alwey and mercy I yow preye
'Ther been so worthy knightes in this place
And ye so fair that everich of hem alle
Wol peynen him to stonden in your grace
But mighte me so fair a grace falle
That ye me for your servaunt wolde calle
So lowly ne so trewely you serve
Nil noon of hem as I shal til I sterve
Criseide un-to that purpos lyte answerde
As she that was with sorwe oppressed so
That in effect she nought his tales herde
But here and there now here a word or two
Hir thoughte hir sorwful herte brast a-two
For whan she gan hir fader fer aspye
Wel neigh doun of hir hors she gan to sye
But natheles she thonked Diomede
Of al his travaile and his goode chere
And that him liste his friendship hir to bede
And she accepteth it in good manere
And wolde do fayn that is him leef and dere
And trusten him she wolde and wel she mighte
As seyde she and from hir hors she alighte
Hir fader hath hir in his armes nome
And tweynty tyme he kiste his doughter swete
And seyde 'O dere doughter myn wel-come
She seyde eek she was fayn with him to mete
And stood forth mewet milde and mansuete
But here I leve hir with hir fader dwelle
And forth I wol of Troilus yow telle
To Troye is come this woful Troilus
In sorwe aboven alle sorwes smerte
With felon look and face dispitous
Tho sodeinly doun from his hors he sterte
And thorugh his paleys with a swollen herte
To chambre he wente of no-thing took he hede
Ne noon to him dar speke a word for drede
And there his sorwes that he spared hadde
He yaf an issue large and 'Deeth' he cryde
And in his throwes frenetyk and madde
He cursed Iove Appollo and eek Cupyde
He cursed Ceres Bacus and Cipryde
His burthe him-self his fate and eek nature
And save his lady every creature
To bedde he goth and weyleth there and torneth
In furie as dooth he Ixion in helle
And in this wyse he neigh til day soiorneth
But tho bigan his herte a lyte unswelle
Thorugh teres which that gonnen up to welle
And pitously he cryde up-on Criseyde
And to him-self right thus he spak and seyde  
'Wher is myn owene lady lief and dere
Wher is hir whyte brest wher is it where
Wher ben hir armes and hir eyen clere
That yesternight this tyme with me were
Now may I wepe allone many a tere
And graspe aboute I may but in this place
Save a pilowe I finde nought tenbrace
'How shal I do Whan shal she com ayeyn
I noot allas Why leet ich hir to go
As wolde god ich hadde as tho be sleyn
O herte myn Criseyde O swete fo
O lady myn that I love and no mo
To whom for ever-mo myn herte I dowe
See how I deye ye nil me not rescowe
'Who seeth yow now my righte lode-sterre
Who sit right now or stant in your presence
Who can conforten now your hertes werre
Now I am gon whom yeve ye audience
Who speketh for me right now in myn absence
Allas no wight and that is al my care
For wel wot I as yvel as I ye fare
'How sholde I thus ten dayes ful endure
Whan I the firste night have al this tene
How shal she doon eek sorwful creature
For tendernesse how shal she this sustene
Swich wo for me O pitous pale and grene
Shal been your fresshe wommanliche face
For langour er ye torne un-to this place
And whan he fil in any slomeringes
Anoon biginne he sholde for to grone
And dremen of the dredfulleste thinges
That mighte been as mete he were allone
In place horrible makinge ay his mone
Or meten that he was amonges alle
His enemys and in hir hondes falle
And ther-with-al his body sholde sterte
And with the stert al sodeinliche awake
And swich a tremour fele aboute his herte
That of the feer his body sholde quake
And there-with-al he sholde a noyse make
And seme as though he sholde falle depe
From heighe a-lofte and than he wolde wepe
And rewen on him-self so pitously
That wonder was to here his fantasye
Another tyme he sholde mightily
Conforte him-self and seyn it was folye
So causeles swich drede for to drye
And eft biginne his aspre sorwes newe
That every man mighte on his sorwes rewe
Who coude telle aright or ful discryve
His wo his pleynt his langour and his pyne
Nought al the men that han or been on-lyve
Thou redere mayst thy-self ful wel devyne
That swich a wo my wit can not defyne
On ydel for to wryte it sholde I swinke
Whan that my wit is wery it to thinke
On hevene yet the sterres were sene
Al-though ful pale y-waxen was the mone
And whyten gan the orisonte shene
Al estward as it woned is for to done
And Phebus with his rosy carte sone
Gan after that to dresse him up to fare
Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare
This Pandare that of al the day biforn
Ne mighte han comen Troilus to see
Al-though he on his heed it hadde y-sworn
For with the king Pryam alday was he
So that it lay not in his libertee
No-wher to gon but on the morwe he wente
To Troilus whan that he for him sente
For in his herte he coude wel devyne
That Troilus al night for sorwe wook
And that he wolde telle him of his pyne
This knew he wel y-nough with-oute book
For which to chaumbre streight the wey he took
And Troilus tho sobreliche he grette
And on the bed ful sone he gan him sette
'My Pandarus' quod Troilus 'the sorwe
Which that I drye I may not longe endure
I trowe I shal not liven til to-morwe
For whiche I wolde alwey on aventure
To thee devysen of my sepulture
The forme and of my moeble thou dispone
Right as thee semeth best is for to done
'But of the fyr and flaumbe funeral
In whiche my body brenne shal to glede
And of the feste and pleyes palestral
At my vigile I prey thee tak good hede
That be wel and offre Mars my stede
My swerd myn helm and leve brother dere
My sheld to Pallas yef that shyneth clere
'The poudre in which myn herte y-brend shal torne
That preye I thee thou take and it conserve
In a vessel that men clepeth an urne
Of gold and to my lady that I serve
For love of whom thus pitously I sterve
So yeve it hir and do me this plesaunce
To preye hir kepe it for a remembraunce
'For wel I fele by my maladye
And by my dremes now and yore ago
Al certeinly that I mot nedes dye
The owle eek which that hight Ascaphilo
Hath after me shright alle thise nightes two
And god Mercurie Of me now woful wrecche
The soule gyde and whan thee list it fecche
Pandare answerde and seyde 'Troilus
My dere freend as I have told thee yore
That it is folye for to sorwen thus
And causeles for whiche I can no-more
But who-so wol not trowen reed ne lore
I can not seen in him no remedye
But lete him worthen with his fantasye
'But Troilus I pray thee tel me now
If that thou trowe er this that any wight
Hath loved paramours as wel as thou
Ye god wot and fro many a worthy knight
Hath his lady goon a fourtenight
And he not yet made halvendel the fare
What nede is thee to maken al this care
'Sin day by day thou mayst thy-selven see
That from his love or elles from his wyf
A man mot twinnen of necessitee
Ye though he love hir as his owene lyf
Yet nil he with him-self thus maken stryf
For wel thow wost my leve brother dere
That alwey freendes may nought been y-fere
'How doon this folk that seen hir loves wedded
By freendes might as it bi-tit ful ofte
And seen hem in hir spouses bed y-bedded
God woot they take it wysly faire and softe
For-why good hope halt up hir herte on-lofte
And for they can a tyme of sorwe endure
As tyme hem hurt a tyme doth hem cure
'So sholdestow endure and late slyde
The tyme and fonde to ben glad and light
Ten dayes nis so longe not tabyde
And sin she thee to comen hath bihight
She nil hir hestes breken for no wight
For dred thee not that she nil finden weye
To come ayein my lyf that dorste I leye
'Thy swevenes eek and al swich fantasye
Dryf out and lat hem faren to mischaunce
For they procede of thy malencolye
That doth thee fele in sleep al this penaunce
A straw for alle swevenes signifiaunce
God helpe me so I counte hem not a bene
Ther woot no man aright what dremes mene
'For prestes of the temple tellen this
That dremes been the revelaciouns
Of goddes and as wel they telle y-wis
That they ben infernals illusiouns
And leches seyn that of complexiouns
Proceden they or fast or glotonye
Who woot in sooth thus what they signifye
'Eek othere seyn that thorugh impressiouns
As if a wight hath faste a thing in minde
That ther-of cometh swiche avisiouns
And othere seyn as they in bokes finde
That after tymes of the yeer by kinde
Men dreme and that theffect goth by the mone
But leve no dreem for it is nought to done
'Wel worth of dremes ay thise olde wyves
And treweliche eek augurie of thise foules
For fere of which men wenen lese her lyves
As ravenes qualm or shryking of thise oules
To trowen on it bothe fals and foul is
Allas allas so noble a creature
As is a man shal drede swich ordure
'For which with al myn herte I thee beseche
Un-to thy-self that al this thou foryive
And rys up now with-oute more speche
And lat us caste how forth may best be drive
This tyme and eek how freshly we may live
Whan that she cometh the which shal be right sone
God help me so the beste is thus to done
'Rys lat us speke of lusty lyf in Troye
That we han lad and forth the tyme dryve
And eek of tyme cominge us reioye
That bringen shal our blisse now so blyve
And langour of these twyes dayes fyve
We shal ther-with so foryete or oppresse
That wel unnethe it doon shal us duresse
'This toun is ful of lordes al aboute
And trewes lasten al this mene whyle
Go we pleye us in som lusty route
To Sarpedon not hennes but a myle
And thus thou shalt the tyme wel bigyle
And dryve it forth un-to that blisful morwe
That thou hir see that cause is of thy sorwe
'Now rys my dere brother Troilus
For certes it noon honour is to thee
To wepe and in thy bedde to iouken thus
For trewely of o thing trust to me
If thou thus ligge a day or two or three
The folk wol wene that thou for cowardyse
Thee feynest syk and that thou darst not ryse
This Troilus answerde 'O brother dere
This knowen folk that han y-suffred peyne
That though he wepe and make sorwful chere
That feleth harm and smert in every veyne
No wonder is and though I ever pleyne
Or alwey wepe I am no-thing to blame
Sin I have lost the cause of al my game
'But sin of fyne force I moot aryse
I shal aryse as sone as ever I may
And god to whom myn herte I sacrifyse
So sende us hastely the tenthe day
For was ther never fowl so fayn of May
As I shal been whan that she cometh in Troye
That cause is of my torment and my Ioye
'But whider is thy reed' quod Troilus
'That we may pleye us best in al this toun
'Bi god my conseil is' quod Pandarus
'To ryde and pleye us with king Sarpedoun
So longe of this they speken up and doun
Til Troilus gan at the laste assente
To ryse and forth to Sarpedoun they wente
This Sarpedoun as he that honourable
Was ever his lyve and ful of heigh prowesse
With al that mighte y-served been on table
That deyntee was al coste it greet richesse
He fedde hem day by day that swich noblesse
As seyden bothe the moste and eek the leste
Was never er that day wist at any feste
Nor in this world ther is non instrument
Delicious through wind or touche of corde
As fer as any wight hath ever y-went
That tonge telle or herte may recorde
That at that feste it nas wel herd acorde
Ne of ladies eek so fayr a companye
On daunce er tho was never y-seyn with ye
But what avayleth this to Troilus
That for his sorwe no-thing of it roughte
For ever in oon his herte pietous
Ful bisily Criseyde his lady soughte
On hir was ever al that his herte thoughte
Now this now that so faste imagininge
That glade y-wis can him no festeyinge
These ladies eek that at this feste been
Sin that he saw his lady was a-weye
It was his sorwe upon hem for to seen
Or for to here on instrumentz so pleye
For she that of his herte berth the keye
Was absent lo this was his fantasye
That no wight sholde make melodye
Nor ther nas houre in al the day or night
Whan he was ther-as no wight mighte him here
That he ne seyde 'O lufsom lady bright
How have ye faren sin that ye were here
Wel-come y-wis myn owene lady dere
But welaway al this nas but a mase
Fortune his howve entended bet to glase
The lettres eek that she of olde tyme
Hadde him y-sent he wolde allone rede
An hundred sythe a-twixen noon and pryme
Refiguringe hir shap hir womanhede
With-inne his herte and every word and dede
That passed was and thus he droof to an ende
The ferthe day and seyde he wolde wende
And seyde 'Leve brother Pandarus
Intendestow that we shal here bleve
Til Sarpedoun wol forth congeyen us
Yet were it fairer that we toke our leve
For goddes love lat us now sone at eve
Our leve take and homward lat us torne
For trewely I nil not thus soiourne
Pandare answerde 'Be we comen hider
To fecchen fyr and rennen hoom ayeyn
God helpe me so I can not tellen whider
We mighten goon if I shal soothly seyn
Ther any wight is of us more fayn
Than Sarpedoun and if we hennes hye
Thus sodeinly I holde it vilanye
'Sin that we seyden that we wolde bleve
With him a wouke and now thus sodeinly
The ferthe day to take of him oure leve
He wolde wondren on it trewely
Lat us holde forth our purpos fermely
And sin that ye bihighten him to byde
Hold forward now and after lat us ryde
Thus Pandarus with alle peyne and wo
Made him to dwelle and at the woukes ende
Of Sarpedoun they toke hir leve tho
And on hir wey they spedden hem to wende
Quod Troilus 'Now god me grace sende
That I may finden at myn hom-cominge
Criseyde comen' And ther-with gan he singe
'Ye hasel-wode' thoughte this Pandare
And to him-self ful softely he seyde
'God woot refreyden may this hote fare
Er Calkas sende Troilus Criseyde
But natheles he Iaped thus and seyde
And swor y-wis his herte him wel bihighte
She wolde come as sone as ever she mighte
Whan they un-to the paleys were y-comen
Of Troilus they doun of hors alighte
And to the chambre hir wey than han they nomen
And in-to tyme that it gan to nighte
They spaken of Crysede the brighte
And after this whan that hem bothe leste
They spedde hem fro the soper un-to reste
On morwe as sone as day bigan to clere
This Troilus gan of his sleep tabrayde
And to Pandare his owene brother dere
'For love of god' ful pitously he seyde
'As go we seen the paleys of Criseyde
For sin we yet may have namore feste
So lat us seen hir paleys at the leste
And ther-with-al his meyne for to blende
A cause he fond in toune for to go
And to Criseydes hous they gonnen wende
But lord This sely Troilus was wo
Him thoughte his sorweful herte braste a-two
For whan he saugh hir dores sperred alle
Wel neigh for sorwe a-doun he gan to falle
Therwith whan he was war and gan biholde
How shet was every windowe of the place
As frost him thoughte his herte gan to colde
For which with chaunged deedlich pale face
With-outen word he forth bigan to pace
And as god wolde he gan so faste ryde
That no wight of his contenance aspyde
Than seyde he thus 'O paleys desolat
O hous of houses whylom best y-hight
O paleys empty and disconsolat
O thou lanterne of which queynt is the light
O paleys whylom day that now art night
Wel oughtestow to falle and I to dye
Sin she is went that wont was us to gye
'O paleys whylom croune of houses alle
Enlumined with sonne of alle blisse
O ring fro which the ruby is out-falle
O cause of wo that cause hast been of lisse
Yet sin I may no bet fayn wolde I kisse
Thy colde dores dorste I for this route
And fare-wel shryne of which the seynt is oute
Ther-with he caste on Pandarus his ye
With chaunged face and pitous to biholde
And whan he mighte his tyme aright aspye
Ay as he rood to Pandarus he tolde
His newe sorwe and eek his Ioyes olde
So pitously and with so dede an hewe
That every wight mighte on his sorwe rewe
Fro thennesforth he rydeth up and doun
And every thing com him to remembraunce
As he rood forbi places of the toun
In whiche he whylom hadde al his plesaunce
'Lo yond saugh I myn owene lady daunce
And in that temple with hir eyen clere
Me coughte first my righte lady dere
'And yonder have I herd ful lustily
My dere herte laugh and yonder pleye
Saugh I hir ones eek ful blisfully
And yonder ones to me gan she seye
Now goode swete love me wel I preye
And yond so goodly gan she me biholde
That to the deeth myn herte is to hir holde
'And at that corner in the yonder hous
Herde I myn alderlevest lady dere
So wommanly with voys melodious
Singen so wel so goodly and so clere
That in my soule yet me thinketh I here
The blisful soun and in that yonder place
My lady first me took un-to hir grace
Thanne thoughte he thus 'O blisful lord Cupyde
Whanne I the proces have in my memorie
How thou me hast wereyed on every syde
Men might a book make of it lyk a storie
What nede is thee to seke on me victorie
Sin I am thyn and hoolly at thy wille
What Ioye hastow thyn owene folk to spille
'Wel hastow lord y-wroke on me thyn ire
Thou mighty god and dredful for to greve
Now mercy lord thou wost wel I desire
Thy grace most of alle lustes leve
And live and deye I wol in thy bileve
For which I naxe in guerdon but a bone
That thou Criseyde ayein me sende sone
'Distreyne hir herte as faste to retorne
As thou dost myn to longen hir to see
Than woot I wel that she nil nought soiorne
Now blisful lord so cruel thou ne be
Un-to the blood of Troye I preye thee
As Iuno was un-to the blood Thebane
For which the folk of Thebes caughte hir bane
And after this he to the yates wente
Ther-as Criseyde out-rood a ful good paas
And up and doun ther made he many a wente
And to him-self ful ofte he seyde 'Allas
From hennes rood my blisse and my solas
As wolde blisful god now for his Ioye
I mighte hir seen ayein come in-to Troye
'And to the yonder hille I gan hir gyde
Allas And there I took of hir my leve
And yond I saugh hir to hir fader ryde
For sorwe of which myn herte shal to-cleve
And hider hoom I com whan it was eve
And here I dwelle out-cast from alle Ioye
And shal til I may seen hir eft in Troye
And of him-self imagened he ofte
To ben defet and pale and waxen lesse
Than he was wont and that men seyden softe
'What may it be Who can the sothe gesse
Why Troilus hath al this hevinesse
And al this nas but his malencolye
That he hadde of him-self swich fantasye
Another tyme imaginen he wolde
That every wight that wente by the weye
Had of him routhe and that they seyen sholde
'I am right sory Troilus wole deye
And thus he droof a day yet forth or tweye
As ye have herd swich lyf right gan he lede
As he that stood bitwixen hope and drede
For which him lyked in his songes shewe
Thencheson of his wo as he best mighte
And made a song of wordes but a fewe
Somwhat his woful herte for to lighte
And whan he was from every mannes sighte
With softe voys he of his lady dere
That was absent gan singe as ye may here
'O sterre of which I lost have al the light
With herte soor wel oughte I to bewayle
That ever derk in torment night by night
Toward my deeth with wind in stere I sayle
For which the tenthe night if that I fayle
The gyding of thy bemes brighte an houre
My ship and me Caribdis wole devoure
This song whan he thus songen hadde sone
He fil ayein in-to his sykes olde
And every night as was his wone to done
He stood the brighte mone to beholde
And al his sorwe he to the mone tolde
And seyde 'Y-wis whan thou art horned newe
I shal be glad if al the world be trewe
'I saugh thyn hornes olde eek by the morwe
Whan hennes rood my righte lady dere
That cause is of my torment and my sorwe
For whiche O brighte Lucina the clere
For love of god ren faste aboute thy spere
For whan thyn hornes newe ginne springe
Than shal she come that may my blisse bringe
The day is more and lenger every night
Than they be wont to be him thoughte tho
And that the sonne wente his course unright
By lenger wey than it was wont to go
And seyde 'Y-wis me dredeth ever-mo
The sonnes sone Pheton be on-lyve
And that his fadres cart amis he dryve
Upon the walles faste eek wolde he walke
And on the Grekes ost he wolde see
And to him-self right thus he wolde talke
'Lo yonder is myn owene lady free
Or elles yonder ther tho tentes be
And thennes comth this eyr that is so sote
That in my soule I fele it doth me bote
'And hardely this wind that more and more
Thus stoundemele encreseth in my face
Is of my ladyes depe sykes sore
I preve it thus for in non othere place
Of al this toun save onliche in this space
Fele I no wind that souneth so lyk peyne
It seyth Allas Why twinned be we tweyne
This longe tyme he dryveth forth right thus
Til fully passed was the nynthe night
And ay bi-syde him was this Pandarus
That bisily dide alle his fulle might
Him to comforte and make his herte light
Yevinge him hope alwey the tenthe morwe
That she shal come and stinten al his sorwe
Up-on that other syde eek was Criseyde
With wommen fewe among the Grekes stronge
For which ful ofte a day 'Allas' she seyde
'That I was born Wel may myn herte longe
After my deeth for now live I to longe
Allas And I ne may it not amende
For now is wors than ever yet I wende
'My fader nil for no-thing do me grace
To goon ayein for nought I can him queme
And if so be that I my terme passe
My Troilus shal in his herte deme
That I am fals and so it may wel seme
Thus shal I have unthank on every syde
That I was born so weylaway the tyde
'And if that I me putte in Iupartye
To stele awey by nighte and it bifalle
That I be caught I shal be holde a spye
Or elles lo this drede I most of alle
If in the hondes of som wrecche I falle
I am but lost al be myn herte trewe
Now mighty god thou on my sorwe rewe
Ful pale y-waxen was hir brighte face
Hir limes lene as she that al the day
Stood whan she dorste and loked on the place
Ther she was born and ther she dwelt hadde ay
And al the night wepinge allas she lay
And thus despeired out of alle cure
She ladde hir lyf this woful creature
Ful ofte a day she sighte eek for destresse
And in hir-self she wente ay portrayinge
Of Troilus the grete worthinesse
And alle his goodly wordes recordinge
Sin first that day hir love bigan to springe
And thus she sette hir woful herte a-fyre
Through remembraunce of that she gan desyre
In al this world ther nis so cruel herte
That hir hadde herd compleynen in hir sorwe
That nolde han wopen for hir peynes smerte
So tendrely she weep bothe eve and morwe
Hir nedede no teres for to borwe
And this was yet the worste of al hir peyne
Ther was no wight to whom she dorste hir pleyne
Ful rewfully she loked up-on Troye
Biheld the toures heighe and eek the halles
'Allas' quod she 'The plesaunce and the Ioye
The whiche that now al torned in-to galle is
Have I had ofte with-inne yonder walles
O Troilus what dostow now' she seyde
'Lord Whether yet thou thenke up-on Criseyde
'Allas I ne hadde trowed on your lore
And went with yow as ye me radde er this
Thanne hadde I now not syked half so sore
Who mighte han seyd that I had doon a-mis
To stele awey with swich on as he is
But al to late cometh the letuarie
Whan men the cors un-to the grave carie
'To late is now to speke of this matere
Prudence allas Oon of thyn eyen three
Me lakked alwey er that I come here
On tyme y-passed wel remembred me
And present tyme eek coude I wel y-see
But futur tyme er I was in the snare
Coude I not seen that causeth now my care
'But natheles bityde what bityde
I shal to-morwe at night by est or weste
Out of this ost stele on som maner syde
And go with Troilus wher-as him leste
This purpos wol I holde and this is beste
No fors of wikked tonges Ianglerye
For ever on love han wrecches had envye
'For who-so wole of every word take hede
Or rewlen him by every wightes wit
Ne shal he never thryven out of drede
For that that som men blamen ever yit
Lo other maner folk commenden it
And as for me for al swich variaunce
Felicitee clepe I my suffisaunce
'For which with-outen any wordes mo
To Troye I wol as for conclusioun
But god it wot er fully monthes two
She was ful fer fro that entencioun
For bothe Troilus and Troye toun
Shal knotteles through-out hir herte slyde
For she wol take a purpos for tabyde
This Diomede of whom yow telle I gan
Goth now with-inne him-self ay arguinge
With al the sleighte and al that ever he can
How he may best with shortest taryinge
In-to his net Criseydes herte bringe
To this entente he coude never fyne
To fisshen hir he leyde out hook and lyne
But natheles wel in his herte he thoughte
That she nas nat with-oute a love in Troye
For never sithen he hir thennes broughte
Ne coude he seen her laughe or make Ioye
He nist how best hir herte for tacoye
'But for to assaye' he seyde 'it nought ne greveth
For he that nought nassayeth nought nacheveth
Yet seide he to him-self upon a night
'Now am I not a fool that woot wel how
Hir wo for love is of another wight
And here-up-on to goon assaye hir now
I may wel wite it nil not been my prow
For wyse folk in bokes it expresse
Men shal not wowe a wight in hevinesse
'But who-so mighte winnen swich a flour
From him for whom she morneth night and day
He mighte seyn he were a conquerour
And right anoon as he that bold was ay
Thoughte in his herte 'Happe how happe may
Al sholde I deye I wole hir herte seche
I shal no more lesen but my speche
This Diomede as bokes us declare
Was in his nedes prest and corageous
With sterne voys and mighty limes square
Hardy testif strong and chevalrous
Of dedes lyk his fader Tideus
And som men seyn he was of tunge large
And heir he was of Calidoine and Arge
Criseyde mene was of hir stature
Ther-to of shap of face and eek of chere
Ther mighte been no fairer creature
And ofte tyme this was hir manere
To gon y-tressed with hir heres clere
Doun by hir coler at hir bak bihinde
Which with a threde of gold she wolde binde
And save hir browes ioyneden y-fere
Ther nas no lak in ought I can espyen
But for to speken of hir eyen clere
Lo trewely they writen that hir syen
That Paradys stood formed in hir yen
And with hir riche beautee ever-more
Strof love in hir ay which of hem was more
She sobre was eek simple and wys with-al
The beste y-norisshed eek that mighte be
And goodly of hir speche in general
Charitable estatliche lusty and free
Ne never-mo ne lakkede hir pitee
Tendre-herted slydinge of corage
But trewely I can not telle hir age
And Troilus wel waxen was in highte
And complet formed by proporcioun
So wel that kinde it not amenden mighte
Yong fresshe strong and hardy as lyoun
Trewe as steel in ech condicioun
On of the beste enteched creature
That is or shal whyl that the world may dure
And certainly in storie it is y-founde
That Troilus was never un-to no wight
As in his tyme in no degree secounde
In durring don that longeth to a knight
Al mighte a geaunt passen him of might
His herte ay with the firste and with the beste
Stood paregal to durre don that him leste
But for to tellen forth of Diomede  
It fil that after on the tenthe day
Sin that Criseyde out of the citee yede
This Diomede as fresshe as braunche in May
Com to the tente ther-as Calkas lay
And feyned him with Calkas han to done
But what he mente I shal yow telle sone
Criseyde at shorte wordes for to telle
Welcomed him and doun by hir him sette
And he was ethe y-nough to maken dwelle
And after this with-outen longe lette
The spyces and the wyn men forth hem fette
And forth they speke of this and that y-fere
As freendes doon of which som shal ye here
He gan first fallen of the werre in speche
Bitwixe hem and the folk of Troye toun
And of thassege he gan hir eek byseche
To telle him what was hir opinioun
Fro that demaunde he so descendeth doun
To asken hir if that hir straunge thoughte
The Grekes gyse and werkes that they wroughte
And why hir fader tarieth so longe
To wedden hir un-to som worthy wight
Criseyde that was in hir peynes stronge
For love of Troilus hir owene knight
As fer-forth as she conning hadde or might
Answerde him tho but as of his entente
It semed not she wiste what he mente
But natheles this ilke Diomede
Gan in him-self assure and thus he seyde
'If ich aright have taken of yow hede
Me thinketh thus O lady myn Criseyde
That sin I first hond on your brydel leyde
Whan ye out come of Troye by the morwe
Ne coude I never seen yow but in sorwe
'Can I not seyn what may the cause be
But-if for love of som Troyan it were
The which right sore wolde athinken me
That ye for any wight that dwelleth there
Sholden spille a quarter of a tere
Or pitously your-selven so bigyle
For dredelees it is nought worth the whyle
'The folk of Troye as who seyth alle and some
In preson been as ye your-selven see
Nor thennes shal not oon on-lyve come
For al the gold bitwixen sonne and see
Trusteth wel and understondeth me
Ther shal not oon to mercy goon on-lyve
Al were he lord of worldes twyes fyve
'Swich wreche on hem for fecching of Eleyne
Ther shal be take er that we hennes wende
That Manes which that goddes ben of peyne
Shal been agast that Grekes wol hem shende
And men shul drede un-to the worldes ende
From hennes-forth to ravisshe any quene
So cruel shal our wreche on hem be sene
'And but-if Calkas lede us with ambages
That is to seyn with double wordes slye
Swich as men clepe a word with two visages
Ye shal wel knowen that I nought ne lye
And al this thing right seen it with your ye
And that anoon ye nil not trowe how sone
Now taketh heed for it is for to done
'What wene ye your wyse fader wolde
Han yeven Antenor for yow anoon
If he ne wiste that the citee sholde
Destroyed been Why nay so mote I goon
He knew ful wel ther shal not scapen oon
That Troyan is and for the grete fere
He dorste not ye dwelte lenger there
'What wole ye more lufsom lady dere
Lat Troye and Troyan fro your herte pace
Dryf out that bittre hope and make good chere
And clepe ayein the beautee of your face
That ye with salte teres so deface
For Troye is brought in swich a Iupartye
That it to save is now no remedye
'And thenketh wel ye shal in Grekes finde
A more parfit love er it be night
Than any Troian is and more kinde
And bet to serven yow wol doon his might
And if ye vouche sauf my lady bright
I wol ben he to serven yow my-selve
Yee lever than he lord of Greces twelve
And with that word he gan to waxen reed
And in his speche a litel wight he quook
And caste a-syde a litel wight his heed
And stinte a whyle and afterward awook
And sobreliche on hir he threw his look
And seyde 'I am al be it yow no Ioye
As gentil man as any wight in Troye
'For if my fader Tydeus' he seyde
'Y-lived hadde I hadde been er this
Of Calidoine and Arge a king Criseyde
And so hope I that I shal yet y-wis
But he was slayn allas The more harm is
Unhappily at Thebes al to rathe
Polymites and many a man to scathe
'But herte myn sin that I am your man
And been the ferste of whom I seche grace
To serven you as hertely as I can
And ever shal whyl I to live have space
So er that I departe out of this place
Ye wol me graunte that I may to-morwe
At bettre leyser telle yow my sorwe
What shold I telle his wordes that he seyde
He spak y-now for o day at the meste
It preveth wel he spak so that Criseyde
Graunted on the morwe at his requeste
For to speken with him at the leste
So that he nolde speke of swich matere
And thus to him she seyde as ye may here
As she that hadde hir herte on Troilus
So faste that ther may it noon arace
And straungely she spak and seyde thus
'O Diomede I love that ilke place
Ther I was born and Ioves for his grace
Delivere it sone of al that doth it care
God for thy might so leve it wel to fare
'That Grekes wolde hir wraththe on Troye wreke
If that they mighte I knowe it wel y-wis
But it shal not bifallen as ye speke
And god to-forn and ferther over this
I wot my fader wys and redy is
And that he me hath bought as ye me tolde
So dere I am the more un-to him holde
'That Grekes been of heigh condicioun
I woot eek wel but certein men shal finde
As worthy folk with-inne Troye toun
As conning and as parfit and as kinde
As been bitwixen Orcades and Inde
And that ye coude wel your lady serve
I trowe eek wel hir thank for to deserve
'But as to speke of love y-wis' she seyde
'I hadde a lord to whom I wedded was
The whos myn herte al was til that he deyde
And other love as helpe me now Pallas
Ther in myn herte nis ne nevere was
And that ye been of noble and heigh kinrede
I have wel herd it tellen out of drede
'And that doth me to han so gret a wonder
That ye wol scornen any womman so
Eek god wot love and I be fer a-sonder
I am disposed bet so mote I go
Un-to my deeth to pleyne and maken wo
What I shal after doon I can not seye
But trewely as yet me list not pleye
'Myn herte is now in tribulacioun
And ye in armes bisy day by day
Here-after whan ye wonnen han the toun
Paraunter thanne so it happen may
That whan I see that I never er say
Than wole I werke that I never wroughte
This word to yow y-nough suffysen oughte
'To-morwe eek wol I speken with yow fayn
So that ye touchen nought of this matere
And whan yow list ye may come here ayeyn
And er ye gon thus muche I seye yow here
As help me Pallas with hir heres clere
If that I sholde of any Greek han routhe
It sholde be your-selven by my trouthe
'I sey not therfore that I wol yow love
Ne I sey not nay but in conclusioun
I mene wel by god that sit above'  
And ther-with-al she caste hir eyen doun
And gan to syke and seyde 'O Troye toun
Yet bidde I god in quiete and in reste
I may yow seen or do myn herte breste
But in effect and shortly for to seye
This Diomede al freshly newe ayeyn
Gan pressen on and faste hir mercy preye
And after this the sothe for to seyn
Hir glove he took of which he was ful fayn
And fynally whan it was waxen eve
And al was wel he roos and took his leve
The brighte Venus folwede and ay taughte
The wey ther brode Phebus doun alighte
And Cynthea hir char-hors over-raughte
To whirle out of the Lyon if she mighte
And Signifer his candelse shewed brighte
Whan that Criseyde un-to hir bedde wente
In-with hir fadres faire brighte tente
Retorning in hir soule ay up and doun
The wordes of this sodein Diomede
His greet estat and peril of the toun
And that she was allone and hadde nede
Of freendes help and thus bigan to brede
The cause why the sothe for to telle
That she tok fully purpos for to dwelle
The morwe com and goostly for to speke
This Diomede is come un-to Criseyde
And shortly lest that ye my tale breke
So wel he for him-selve spak and seyde
That alle hir sykes sore adoun he leyde
And fynally the sothe for to seyne
He refte hir of the grete of al hir peyne
And after this the story telleth us
That she him yaf the faire baye stede
The which he ones wan of Troilus
And eek a broche and that was litel nede
That Troilus was she yaf this Diomede
And eek the bet from sorwe him to releve
She made him were a pencel of hir sleve
I finde eek in stories elles-where
Whan through the body hurt was Diomede
Of Troilus tho weep she many a tere
Whan that she saugh his wyde woundes blede
And that she took to kepen him good hede
And for to hele him of his sorwes smerte
Men seyn I not that she yaf him hir herte
But trewely the story telleth us
Ther made never womman more wo
Than she whan that she falsed Troilus
She seyde 'Allas For now is clene a-go
My name of trouthe in love for ever-mo
For I have falsed oon the gentileste
That ever was and oon the worthieste
'Allas of me un-to the worldes ende
Shal neither been y-writen nor y-songe
No good word for thise bokes wol me shende
O rolled shal I been on many a tonge
Through-out the world my belle shal be ronge
And wommen most wol hate me of alle
Allas that swich a cas me sholde falle
'They wol seyn in as muche as in me is
I have hem don dishonour weylawey
Al be I not the first that dide amis
What helpeth that to do my blame awey
But sin I see there is no bettre way
And that to late is now for me to rewe
To Diomede algate I wol be trewe
'But Troilus sin I no better may
And sin that thus departen ye and I
Yet preye I god so yeve yow right good day
As for the gentileste trewely
That ever I say to serven feithfully
And best can ay his lady honour kepe'  
And with that word she brast anon to wepe
'And certes yow ne haten shal I never
And freendes love that shal ye han of me
And my good word al mighte I liven ever
And trewely I wolde sory be
For to seen yow in adversitee
And giltelees I woot wel I yow leve
But al shal passe and thus take I my leve
But trewely how longe it was bitwene
That she for-sook him for this Diomede
Ther is non auctor telleth it I wene
Take every man now to his bokes hede
He shal no terme finden out of drede
For though that he bigan to wowe hir sone
Er he hir wan yet was ther more to done
Ne me ne list this sely womman chyde
Ferther than the story wol devyse
Hir name allas Is publisshed so wyde
That for hir gilt it oughte y-noe suffyse
And if I mighte excuse hir any wyse
For she so sory was for hir untrouthe
Y-wis I wolde excuse hir yet for routhe
This Troilus as I biforn have told
Thus dryveth forth as wel as he hath might
But often was his herte hoot and cold
And namely that ilke nynthe night
Which on the morwe she hadde him byhight
To come ayein god wot ful litel reste
Hadde he that night no-thing to slepe him leste
The laurer-crouned Phebus with his hete
Gan in his course ay upward as he wente
To warmen of the est see the wawes wete
And Nisus doughter song with fresh entente
Whan Troilus his Pandare after sente
And on the walles of the toun they pleyde
To loke if they can seen ought of Criseyde
Til it was noon they stoden for to see
Who that ther come and every maner wight
That cam fro fer they seyden it was she
Til that they coude knowen him a-right
Now was his herte dul now was it light
And thus by-iaped stonden for to stare
Aboute nought this Troilus and Pandare
To Pandarus this Troilus tho seyde
'For ought I wot bi-for noon sikerly
In-to this toun ne comth nought here Criseyde
She hath y-now to done hardily
To winnen from hir fader so trowe I
Hir olde fader wol yet make hir dyne
Er that she go god yeve his herte pyne
Pandare answerde 'It may wel be certeyn
And for-thy lat us dyne I thee biseche
And after noon than maystw thou come ayeyn
And hoom they go with-oute more speche
And comen ayein but longe may they seche
Er that they finde that they after cape
Fortune hem bothe thenketh for to Iape
Quod Troilus 'I see wel now that she
Is taried with hir olde fader so
That er she come it wole neigh even be
Com forth I wol un-to the yate go
Thise portours been unkonninge ever-mo
And I wol doon hem holden up the yate
As nought ne were al-though she come late
The day goth faste and after that comth eve
And yet com nought to Troilus Criseyde
He loketh forth by hegge by tree by greve
And fer his heed over the wal he leyde
And at the laste he torned him and seyde
'By god I woot hir mening now Pandare
Al-most y-wis al newe was my care
'Now douteles this lady can hir good
I woot she meneth ryden prively
I comende hir wysdom by myn hood
She wol not maken peple nycely
Gaure on hir whan she comth but softely
By nighte in-to the toun she thenketh ryde
And dere brother thenk not longe to abyde
'We han nought elles for to don y-wis
And Pandarus now woltow trowen me
Have here my trouthe I see hir Yond she is
Heve up thyn eyen man Maystow not see
Pandare answerde 'Nay so mote I thee
Al wrong by god what seystow man wher art
That I see yond nis but a fare-cart
'Allas thou seist right sooth' quod Troilus
'But hardely it is not al for nought
That in myn herte I now reioyse thus
It is ayein som good I have a thought
Noot I not how but sin that I was wrought
Ne felte I swich a confort dar I seye
She comth to-night my lyf that dorste I leye
Pandare answerde 'It may be wel y-nough'
And held with him of al that ever he seyde
But in his herte he thoughte and softe lough
And to him-self ful sobrely he seyde
'From hasel-wode ther Ioly Robin pleyde
Shal come al that thou abydest here
Ye fare-wel al the snow of ferne yere
The wardein of the yates gan to calle
The folk which that with-oute the yates were
And bad hem dryven in hir bestes alle
Or al the night they moste bleven there
And fer with-in the night with many a tere
This Troilus gan hoomward for to ryde
For wel he seeth it helpeth nought tabyde
But natheles he gladded him in this
He thoughte he misacounted hadde his day
And seyde 'I understonde have al a-mis
For thilke night I last Criseyde say
She seyde I shal ben here if that I may
Er that the mone O dere herte swete
The Lyon passe out of this Ariete
'For which she may yet holde al hir biheste
And on the morwe un-to the yate he wente
And up and down by west and eek by este
Up-on the walles made he many a wente
But al for nought his hope alwey him blente
For which at night in sorwe and sykes sore
He wente him hoom with-outen any more
This hope al clene out of his herte fledde
He nath wher-on now lenger for to honge
But for the peyne him thoughte his herte bledde
So were his throwes sharpe and wonder stronge
For when he saugh that she abood so longe
He niste what he iuggen of it mighte
Sin she hath broken that she him bihighte
The thridde ferthe fifte sixte day
After tho dayes ten of which I tolde
Bitwixen hope and drede his herte lay
Yet som-what trustinge on hir hestes olde
But whan he saugh she nolde hir terme holde
He can now seen non other remedye
But for to shape him sone for to dye
Ther-with the wikked spirit god us blesse
Which that men clepeth wode Ialousye
Gan in him crepe in al this hevinesse
For which by-cause he wolde sone dye
He ne eet ne dronk for his malencolye
And eek from every companye he fledde
This was the lyf that al the tyme he ledde
He so defet was that no maner man
Unneth mighte him knowe ther he wente
So was he lene and ther-to pale and wan
And feble that he walketh by potente
And with his ire he thus himselven shente
But who-so axed him wher-of him smerte
He seyde his harm was al aboute his herte
Pryam ful ofte and eek his moder dere
His bretheren and his sustren gonne him freyne
Why he so sorwful was in al his chere
And what thing was the cause of al his peyne
But al for nought he nolde his cause pleyne
But seyde he felte a grevous maladye
A-boute his herte and fayn he wolde dye
So on a day he leyde him doun to slepe
And so bifel that in his sleep him thoughte
That in a forest faste he welk to wepe
For love of hir that him these peynes wroughte
And up and doun as he the forest soughte
He mette he saugh a boor with tuskes grete
That sleep ayein the brighte sonnes hete
And by this boor faste in his armes folde
Lay kissing ay his lady bright Criseyde
For sorwe of which whan he it gan biholde
And for despyt out of his slepe he breyde
And loude he cryde on Pandarus and seyde
'O Pandarus now knowe I crop and rote
I nam but deed ther nis non other bote
'My lady bright Criseyde hath me bitrayed
In whom I trusted most of any wight
She elles-where hath now hir herte apayed
The blisful goddes through hir grete might
Han in my dreem y-shewed it ful right
Thus in my dreem Criseyde I have biholde'  
And al this thing to Pandarus he tolde
'O my Criseyde allas What subtiltee
What newe lust what beautee what science
What wratthe of iuste cause have ye to me
What gilt of me what fel experience
Hath fro me raft allas Thyn advertence
O trust O feyth O depe aseuraunce
Who hath me reft Criseyde al my plesaunce
'Allas Why leet I you from hennes go
For which wel neigh out of my wit I breyde
Who shal now trowe on any othes mo
God wot I wende O lady bright Criseyde
That every word was gospel that ye seyde
But who may bet bigylen yf him liste
Than he on whom men weneth best to triste
'What shal I doon my Pandarus allas
I fele now so sharpe a newe peyne
Sin that ther is no remedie in this cas
That bet were it I with myn hondes tweyne
My-selven slow than alwey thus to pleyne
For through my deeth my wo sholde han an ende
Ther every day with lyf my-self I shende
Pandare answerde and seyde 'Allas the whyle
That I was born have I not seyd er this
That dremes many a maner man bigyle
And why For folk expounden hem a-mis
How darstow seyn that fals thy lady is
For any dreem right for thyn owene drede
Lat be this thought thou canst no dremes rede
'Paraunter ther thou dremest of this boor
It may so be that it may signifye
Hir fader which that old is and eek hoor
Ayein the sonne lyth on poynt to dye
And she for sorwe ginneth wepe and crye
And kisseth him ther he lyth on the grounde
Thus shuldestow thy dreem a-right expounde
'How mighte I thanne do' quod Troilus
'To knowe of this ye were it never so lyte
'Now seystow wysly' quod this Pandarus
'My reed is this sin thou canst wel endyte
That hastely a lettre thou hir wryte
Thorugh which thou shalt wel bringen it aboute
To knowe a sooth of that thou art in doute
'And see now why for this I dar wel seyn
That if so is that she untrewe be
I can not trowe that she wol wryte ayeyn
And if she wryte thou shalt ful sone see
As whether she hath any libertee
To come ayein or ellis in som clause
If she be let she wol assigne a cause
'Thou hast not writen hir sin that she wente
Nor she to thee and this I dorste leye
Ther may swich cause been in hir entente
That hardely thou wolt thy-selven seye
That hir a-bood the beste is for yow tweye
Now wryte hir thanne and thou shalt fele sone
A sothe of al ther is no more to done
Acorded been to this conclusioun
And that anoon these ilke lordes two
And hastely sit Troilus adoun
And rolleth in his herte to and fro
How he may best discryven hir his wo
And to Criseyde his owene lady dere
He wroot right thus and seyde as ye may here
'Right fresshe flour whos I have been and shal
With-outen part of elles-where servyse
With herte body lyf lust thought and al
I woful wight in every humble wyse
That tonge telle or herte may devyse
As ofte as matere occupyeth place
Me recomaunde un-to your noble grace
'Lyketh it yow to witen swete herte
As ye wel knowe how longe tyme agoon
That ye me lefte in aspre peynes smerte
Whan that ye wente of which yet bote noon
Have I non had but ever wers bigoon
Fro day to day am I and so mot dwelle
While it yow list of wele and wo my welle
'For which to yow with dredful herte trewe
I wryte as he that sorwe dryfth to wryte
My wo that every houre encreseth newe
Compleyninge as I dar or can endyte
And that defaced is that may ye wyte
The teres which that fro myn eyen reyne
That wolde speke if that they coude and pleyne
'Yow first biseche I that your eyen clere
To look on this defouled ye not holde
And over al this that ye my lady dere
Wol vouche-sauf this lettre to biholde
And by the cause eek of my cares colde
That sleeth my wit if ought amis me asterte
For-yeve it me myn owene swete herte
'If any servant dorste or oughte of right
Up-on his lady pitously compleyne
Than wene I that ich oughte be that wight
Considered this that ye these monthes tweyne
Han taried ther ye seyden sooth to seyne
But dayes ten ye nolde in ost soiourne
But in two monthes yet ye not retourne
'But for-as-muche as me mot nedes lyke
Al that yow list I dar not pleyne more
But humbely with sorwful sykes syke
Yow wryte ich myn unresty sorwes sore
Fro day to day desyring ever-more
To knowen fully if your wil it were
How ye han ferd and doon whyl ye be there
'The whos wel-fare and hele eek god encresse
In honour swich that upward in degree
It growe alwey so that it never cesse
Right as your herte ay can my lady free
Devyse I prey to god so mote it be
And graunte it that ye sone up-on me rewe
As wisly as in al I am yow trewe
'And if yow lyketh knowen of the fare
Of me whos wo ther may no wight discryve
I can no more but cheste of every care
At wrytinge of this lettre I was on-lyve
Al redy out my woful gost to dryve
Which I delaye and holde him yet in honde
Upon the sight of matere of your sonde
'Myn eyen two in veyn with which I see
Of sorweful teres salte arn waxen welles
My song in pleynte of myn adversitee
My good in harm myn ese eek waxen helle is
My Ioye in wo I can sey yow nought elles
But turned is for which my lyf I warie
Everich Ioye or ese in his contrarie
'Which with your cominge hoom ayein to Troye
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
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
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
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
'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
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
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
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
And fare now wel myn owene swete herte
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
'To slee this boor was al the contree reysed
A-monges which ther com this boor to see
A mayde oon of this world the best y-preysed
And Meleagre lord of that contree
He lovede so this fresshe mayden free
That with his manhod er he wolde stente
This boor he slow and hir the heed he sente
'Of which as olde bokes tellen us
Ther roos a contek and a greet envye
And of this lord descended Tydeus
By ligne or elles olde bokes lye
But how this Meleagre gan to dye
Thorugh his moder wol I yow not telle
For al to long it were for to dwelle
Argument of the Books of Statius' Thebais
Associat profugum Tideo primus Polimitem
Tidea legatum docet insidiasque secundus
Tercius Hemoniden canit et vates latitantes
Quartus habet reges ineuntes prelia septem
Mox furie Lenne quinto narratur et anguis
Archimori bustum sexto ludique leguntur
Dat Graios Thebes et vatem septimus vmbria
Octauo cecidit Tideus spes vita Pelasgia
Ypomedon nono moritur cum Parthonopeo
Fulmine percussus decimo Capaneus superatur
Vndecimo sese perimunt per vulnera fratres
Argiuam flentem narrat duodenus et igneum
She tolde eek how Tydeus er she stente
Un-to the stronge citee of Thebes
To cleyme kingdom of the citee wente
For his felawe daun Polymites
Of which the brother daun Ethyocles
Ful wrongfully of Thebes held the strengthe
This tolde she by proces al by lengthe
She tolde eek how Hemonides asterte
Whan Tydeus slough fifty knightes stoute
She tolde eek al the prophesyes by herte
And how that sevene kinges with hir route
Bisegeden the citee al aboute
And of the holy serpent and the welle
And of the furies al she gan him telle
Of Archimoris buryinge and the pleyes
And how Amphiorax fil through the grounde
How Tydeus was slayn lord of Argeyes
And how Ypomedoun in litel stounde
Was dreynt and deed Parthonope of wounde
And also how Cappaneus the proude
With thonder-dint was slayn that cryde loude
She gan eek telle him how that either brother
Ethyocles and Polimyte also
At a scarmyche eche of hem slough other
And of Argyves wepinge and hir wo
And how the town was brent she tolde eek tho
And so descendeth doun from gestes olde
To Diomede and thus she spak and tolde
'This ilke boor bitokneth Diomede
Tydeus sone that doun descended is
Fro Meleagre that made the boor to blede
And thy lady wher-so she be y-wis
This Diomede hir herte hath and she his
Weep if thou wolt or leef for out of doute
This Diomede is inne and thou art oute
'Thou seyst nat sooth' quod he 'thou sorceresse
With al thy false goost of prophesye
Thou wenest been a greet devyneresse
Now seestow not this fool of fantasye
Peyneth hir on ladyes for to lye
Awey' quod he 'Ther Ioves yeve thee sorwe
Thou shalt be fals paraunter yet to-morwe
'As wel thou mightest lyen on Alceste
That was of creatures but men lye
That ever weren kindest and the beste
For whanne hir housbonde was in Iupartye
To dye him-self but-if she wolde dye
She chees for him to dye and go to helle
And starf anoon as us the bokes telle
Cassandre goth and he with cruel herte
For-yat his wo for angre of hir speche
And from his bed al sodeinly he sterte
As though al hool him hadde y-mad a leche
And day by day he gan enquere and seche
A sooth of this with al his fulle cure
And thus he dryeth forth his aventure
Fortune whiche that permutacioun
Of thinges hath as it is hir committed
Through purveyaunce and disposicioun
Of heighe Iove as regnes shal ben flitted
Fro folk in folk or whan they shal ben smitted
Gan pulle awey the fetheres brighte of Troye
Fro day to day til they ben bare of Ioye
Among al this the fyn of the parodie
Of Ector gan approchen wonder blyve
The fate wolde his soule sholde unbodie
And shapen hadde a mene it out to dryve
Ayeins which fate him helpeth not to stryve
But on a day to fighten gan he wende
At which allas He coughte his lyves ende
For which me thinketh every maner wight
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
'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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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 gyse y-bore was up and doun
A maner cote-armure as seyth the storie
Biforn Deiphebe in signe of his victorie
The whiche cote as telleth Lollius
Deiphebe it hadde y-rent from Diomede
The same day and whan this Troilus
It saugh he gan to taken of it hede
Avysing of the lengthe and of the brede
And al the werk but as he gan biholde
Ful sodeinly his herte gan to colde
As he that on the coler fond with-inne
A broche that he Criseyde yaf that morwe
That she from Troye moste nedes twinne
In remembraunce of him and of his sorwe
And she him leyde ayein hir feyth to borwe
To kepe it ay but now ful wel he wiste
His lady nas no lenger on to triste
He gooth him hoom and gan ful sone sende
For Pandarus and al this newe chaunce
And of this broche he tolde him word and ende
Compleyninge of hir hertes variaunce
His longe love his trouthe and his penaunce
And after deeth with-outen wordes more
Ful faste he cryde his reste him to restore
Than spak he thus 'O lady myn Criseyde
Wher is your feyth and wher is your biheste
Wher is your love wher is your trouthe' he seyde
'Of Diomede have ye now al this feste
Allas I wolde have trowed at the leste
That sin ye nolde in trouthe to me stonde
That ye thus nolde han holden me in honde
'Who shal now trowe on any othes mo
Allas I never wolde han wend er this
That ye Criseyde coude han chaunged so
Ne but I hadde a-gilt and doon amis
So cruel wende I not your herte y-wis
To slee me thus allas your name of trouthe
Is now for-doon and that is al my routhe
'Was ther non other broche yow liste lete
To feffe with your newe love' quod he
'But thilke broche that I with teres wete
Yow yaf as for a remembraunce of me
Non other cause allas ne hadde ye
But for despyt and eek for that ye mente
Al-outrely to shewen your entente
'Through which I see that clene out of your minde
Ye han me cast and I ne can nor may
For al this world with-in myn herte finde
To unloven yow a quarter of a day
In cursed tyme I born was weylaway
That ye that doon me al this wo endure
Yet love I best of any creature
'Now god' quod he 'me sende yet the grace
That I may meten with this Diomede
And trewely if I have might and space
Yet shal I make I hope his sydes blede
O god' quod he 'that oughtest taken hede
To fortheren trouthe and wronges to punyce
Why niltow doon a vengeaunce of this vyce
'O Pandare that in dremes for to triste
Me blamed hast and wont art oft up-breyde
Now maystow see thy-selve if that thee liste
How trewe is now thy nece bright Criseyde
In sondry formes god it woot' he seyde
'The goddes shewen bothe Ioye and tene
In slepe and by my dreme it is now sene
'And certaynly with-oute more speche
From hennes-forth as ferforth as I may
Myn owene deeth in armes wol I seche
I recche not how sone be the day
But trewely Criseyde swete may
Whom I have ay with al my might y-served
That ye thus doon I have it nought deserved
This Pandarus that alle these thinges herde
And wiste wel he seyde a sooth of this
He nought a word ayein to him answerde
For sory of his frendes sorwe he is
And shamed for his nece hath doon a-mis
And stant astoned of these causes tweye
As stille as stoon a word ne coude he seye
But at the laste thus he spak and seyde
'My brother dere I may thee do no-more
What shulde I seyn I hate y-wis Criseyde
And god wot I wol hate hir evermore
And that thou me bisoughtest doon of yore
Havinge un-to myn honour ne my reste
Right no reward I dide al that thee leste
'If I dide ought that mighte lyken thee
It is me leef and of this treson now
God woot that it a sorwe is un-to me
And dredelees for hertes ese of yow
Right fayn wolde I amende it wiste I how
And fro this world almighty god I preye
Delivere hir sone I can no-more seye
Gret was the sorwe and pleynt of Troilus
But forth hir cours fortune ay gan to holde
Criseyde loveth the sone of Tydeus
And Troilus mot wepe in cares colde
Swich is this world who-so it can biholde
In eche estat is litel hertes reste
God leve us for to take it for the beste
In many cruel batayle out of drede
Of Troilus this ilke noble knight
As men may in these olde bokes rede
Was sene his knighthod and his grete might
And dredelees his ire day and night
Ful cruelly the Grekes ay aboughte
And alwey most this Diomede he soughte
And ofte tyme I finde that they mette
With blody strokes and with wordes grete
Assayinge how hir speres weren whette
And god it woot with many a cruel hete
Gan Troilus upon his helm to bete
But natheles fortune it nought ne wolde
Of others hond that either deyen sholde  
And if I hadde y-taken for to wryte
The armes of this ilke worthy man
Than wolde I of his batailles endyte
But for that I to wryte first bigan
Of his love I have seyd as that I can
His worthy dedes who-so list hem here
Reed Dares he can telle hem alle y-fere
Bisechinge every lady bright of hewe
And every gentil womman what she be
That al be that Criseyde was untrewe
That for that gilt she be not wrooth with me
Ye may hir gilt in othere bokes see
And gladlier I wole wryten if yow leste
Penolopees trouthe and good Alceste
Ne I sey not this al-only for these men
But most for wommen that bitraysed be
Through false folk god yeve hem sorwe amen
That with hir grete wit and subtiltee
Bitrayse yow And this commeveth me
To speke and in effect yow alle I preye
Beth war of men and herkeneth what I seye  
Go litel book go litel myn tragedie
Ther god thy maker yet er that he dye
So sende might to make in som comedie
But litel book no making thou nenvye
But subgit be to alle poesye
And kis the steppes wher-as thou seest pace
Virgile Ovyde Omer Lucan and Stace
And for ther is so greet diversitee
In English and in wryting of our tonge
So preye I god that noon miswryte thee
Ne thee mismetre for defaute of tonge
And red wher-so thou be or elles songe
That thou be understonde I god beseche
But yet to purpos of my rather speche  
The wraththe as I began yow for to seye
Of Troilus the Grekes boughten dere
For thousandes his hondes maden deye
As he that was with-outen any pere
Save Ector in his tyme as I can here
But weylawey save only goddes wille
Dispitously him slough the fiers Achille
And whan that he was slayn in this manere
His lighte goost ful blisfully is went
Up to the holownesse of the seventh spere
In convers letinge every element
And ther he saugh with ful avysement
The erratik sterres herkeninge armonye
With sownes fulle of hevenish melodye
And doun from thennes faste he gan avyse
This litel spot of erthe that with the see
Embraced is and fully gan despyse
This wrecched world and held al vanitee
To respect of the pleyn felicitee
That is in hevene above and at the laste
Ther he was slayn his loking doun he caste
And in him-self he lough right at the wo
Of hem that wepten for his deeth so faste
And dampned al our werk that folweth so
The blinde lust the which that may not laste
And sholden al our herte on hevene caste
And forth he wente shortly for to telle
Ther as Mercurie sorted him to dwelle  
Swich fyn hath lo this Troilus for love
Swich fyn hath al his grete worthinesse
Swich fyn hath his estat real above
Swich fyn his lust swich fyn hath his noblesse
Swich fyn hath false worldes brotelnesse
And thus bigan his lovinge of Criseyde
As I have told and in this wyse he deyde
O yonge fresshe folkes he or she
In which that love up groweth with your age
Repeyreth hoom from worldly vanitee
And of your herte up-casteth the visage
To thilke god that after his image
Yow made and thinketh al nis but a fayre
This world that passeth sone as floures fayre
And loveth him the which that right for love
Upon a cros our soules for to beye
First starf and roos and sit in hevene a-bove
For he nil falsen no wight dar I seye
That wol his herte al hoolly on him leye
And sin he best to love is and most meke
What nedeth feyned loves for to seke
Lo here of Payens corsed olde rytes
Lo here what alle hir goddes may availle
Lo here these wrecched worldes appetytes
Lo here the fyn and guerdon for travaille
Of Iove Appollo of Mars of swich rascaille
Lo here the forme of olde clerkes speche
In poetrye if ye hir bokes seche  
O moral Gower this book I directe
To thee and to the philosophical Strode
To vouchen sauf ther nede is to corecte
Of your benignitees and zeles gode
And to that sothfast Crist that starf on rode
With al myn herte of mercy ever I preye
And to the lord right thus I speke and seye
Thou oon and two and three eterne on-lyve
That regnest ay in three and two and oon
Uncircumscript and al mayst circumscryve
Us from visible and invisible foon
Defende and to thy mercy everichoon
So make us Iesus for thy grace digne
For love of mayde and moder thyn benigne Amen
The lyf so short the craft so long to lerne
Th'assay so hard so sharp the conqueringe
The dredful joye alwey that slit so yerne
Al this mene I by love that my felynge
Astonyeth with his wonderful werkynge
So sore y-wis that whan I on him thinke
Nat woot I wel wher that I flete or sinke
For al be that I knowe nat love in dede
Ne wot how that he quyteth folk hir hyre
Yet happeth me ful ofte in bokes rede
Of his miracles and his cruel yre
Ther rede I wel he wol be lord and syre
I dar not seyn his strokes been so sore
But God save swich a lord I can no more
Of usage what for luste what for lore
On bokes rede I ofte as I yow tolde
But wherfor that I speke al this Nat yore
Agon hit happed me for to beholde
Upon a boke was write with lettres olde
And ther-upon a certeyn thing to lerne
The longe day ful faste I radde and yerne
For out of olde feldes as men seith
Cometh al this newe corn fro yeer to yere
And out of olde bokes in good feith
Cometh al this newe science that men lere
But now to purpos as of this matere  
To rede forth hit gan me so delyte
That al the day me thoughte but a lyte
This book of which I make of mencioun
Entitled was al thus as I shal telle
'Tullius of the Dreme of Scipioun
Chapitres seven it hadde of hevene and helle
And erthe and soules that therinne dwelle
Of whiche as shortly as I can it trete
Of his sentence I wol you seyn the grete
First telleth it whan Scipion was come
In Affrike how he mette Massinisse
That him for joye in armes hath inome
Than telleth it hir speche and al the blisse
That was bitwix hem til the day gan misse
And how his auncestre Affrican so dere
Gan in his slepe that night to him appere
Than telleth it that fro a sterry place
How Affrican hath him Cartage shewed
And warned him before of al his grace
And seyde him what man lered other lewed
That loveth commune profit wel y-thewed
He shal unto a blisful place wende
Ther as joye is that last withouten ende
Than asked he if folk that heer be dede
Have lyf and dwelling in another place
And African seyde 'Ye withoute drede
And that our present worldes lyves space
Nis but a maner deth what wey we trace
And rightful folk shal go after they dye
To hevene and shewed him the galaxye
Than shewed he him the litel erthe that heer is
At regard of the hevenes quantite
And after shewed he him the nyne speres
And after that the melodye herde he
That cometh of thilke speres thryes thre
That welle is of musyk and melodye
In this world heer and cause of armonye
Than bad he him syn erthe was so lyte
And ful of torment and of harde grace
That he ne shulde him in the world delyte
Than tolde he him in certeyn yeres space
That every sterre shulde come into his place
Ther it was first and al shulde out of minde
That in this worlde is don of al mankinde
Than prayde him Scipioun to telle him al
The wey to come un-to that hevene blisse
And he seyde 'Know thy-self first immortal
And loke ay besily thou werke and wisse
To commune profit and thou shalt nat misse
To comen swiftly to that place dere
That ful of blisse is and of soules clere
But brekers of the lawe soth to seyne
And lecherous folk after that they be dede
Shul alwey whirle aboute th'  in peyne
Til many a world be passed out of drede
And than for-yeven alle hir wikked dede
Than shul they come unto that blisful place
To which to comen god thee sende his grace'  
The day gan failen and the derke night
That reveth bestes from her besinesse
Birafte me my book for lakke of light
And to my bedde I gan me for to dresse
Fulfild of thought and besy hevynesse
For bothe I hadde thing which that I nolde
And eek I ne hadde that thing that I wolde
But fynally my spirit at the laste
For-wery of my labour al the day
Took rest that made me to slepe faste
And in my slepe I mette as I lay
How Affrican right in the selfe array
That Scipioun him saw before that tyde
Was comen and stood right at my bedes syde
The wery hunter slepinge in his bed
To wode ayein his minde goth anoon
The juge dremeth how his plees ben sped
The carter dremeth how his cartes goon
The riche of gold the knight fight with his foon
The seke met he drinketh of the tonne
The lover met he hath his lady wonne
Can I nat seyn if that the cause were
For I had red of Affrican beforn
That made me to mete that he stood there
But thus seyde he 'thou hast thee so wel born
In loking of myn olde book to-torn
Of which Macrobie roghte nat a lyte
That somdel of thy labour wolde I quyte'  
Cytherea Thou blisful lady swete
That with thy fyr-brand dauntest whom thee lest
And madest me this sweven for to mete
Be thou my help in this for thou mayst best
As wisly as I saw thee north-north-west
When I began my sweven for to wryte
So yif me might to ryme and endite
This forseid Affrican me hente anon
And forth with him unto a gate broghte
Right of a parke walled of grene stoon
And over the gate with lettres large y-wroghte
Ther weren vers y-writen as me thoghte
On eyther halfe of ful gret difference
Of which I shal yow sey the pleyn sentence
'Thorgh me men goon in-to that blisful place
Of hertes hele and dedly woundes cure
Thorgh me men goon unto the welle of Grace
Ther grene and lusty May shal ever endure
This is the wey to al good aventure
Be glad thou reder and thy sorwe of-caste
Al open am I Passe in and sped thee faste
Thorgh me men goon' than spak that other syde
'Unto the mortal strokes of the spere
Of which Disdayn and Daunger is the gyde
Ther tre shal never fruyt ne leves bere
This streem yow ledeth to the sorwful were
Ther as the fish in prison is al drye
Th'eschewing is only the remedye
Thise vers of gold and blak y-writen were
Of whiche I gan a stounde to beholde
For with that oon encresed ay my fere
And with that other gan myn herte bolde
That oon me hette that other did me colde
No wit had I for errour for to chese
To entre or flee or me to save or lese
Right as bitwixen adamauntes two
Of even might a pece of iren y-set
That hath no might to meve to ne fro  
For what that on may hale that other let  
Ferde I that niste whether me was bet
To entre or leve til Affrican my gyde
Me hente and shoof in at the gates wyde
And seyde'hit stondeth writen in thy face
Thyn errour though thou telle it not to me
But dred the nat to come in-to this place
For this wryting is nothyng ment by thee
Ne by noon but he Loves servaunt be
For thou of love hast lost thy tast I gesse
As seeke man hath of swete and bitternesse
But natheles al-though that thou be dulle
Yit that thou canst not do yit mayst thou see
For many a man that may not stonde a pulle
Yit lyketh him at the wrastling for to be
And demeth yit wher he do bet or he
And if thou haddest cunning for t'endite
I shal thee shewen mater of to wryte
With that my hand in his he took anon
Of which I comfort caughte and went in faste
But lord so I was glad and wel begoon
For overal wher that I myn eyen caste
Were trees clad with leves that ay shal laste
Ech in his kinde of colour fresh and grene
As emeraude that joye was to sene
The bilder ook and eek the hardy asshe
The piler elm the cofre unto careyne
The boxtree piper holm to whippes lasshe
The sayling firr the cipres deth to pleyne
The sheter ew the asp for shaftes pleyne
The olyve of pees and eek the drunken vyne
The victor palm the laurer to devyne
A gardyn saw I ful of blosmy bowes
Upon a river in a grene mede
Ther as swetnesse evermore y-now is
With floures whyte blewe yelowe and rede
And colde welle-stremes no-thing dede
That swommen ful of smale fisshes lighte
With finnes rede and scales silver-brighte
On every bough the briddes herde I singe
With voys of aungel in hir armonye
Som besyed hem hir briddes forth to bringe
The litel conyes to hir pley gonne hye
And further al aboute I gan espye
The dredful roo the buk the hert and hinde
Squerels and bestes smale of gentil kinde
Of instruments of strenges in acord
Herde I so pleye a ravisshing swetnesse
That God that maker is of al and lord
Ne herde never better as I gesse
Therwith a wind unnethe it might be lesse
Made in the leves grene a noise softe
Acordaunt to the foules songe on-lofte
The air of that place so attempre was
That never was grevaunce of hoote ne cold
Ther wex eek every holsum spyce and gras
Ne no man may ther wexe seeke ne old
Yet was ther joye more a thousand fold
Then man can telle ne never wolde it nighte
But ay cleer day to any mannes sighte
Under a tree besyde a welle I say
Cupyde our lord his arwes forge and fyle
And at his fete his bowe al redy lay
And wel his doghter tempred al this whyle
The hedes in the welle and with hir wyle
She couched hem after as they shulde serve
Some for to slee and some to wounde and kerve
Tho was I war of Plesaunce anon-right
And of Aray and Lust and Curtesye
And of the Craft that can and hath the might
To doon by force a wight to do folye  
Disfigurat was she I nil not lye
And by him-self under an oke I gesse
Saw I Delyt that stood with Gentilnesse
I saw Beautee withouten any atyr
And Youthe ful of game and jolyte
Fool-hardinesse Flatery and Desyr
Messagerye and Mede and other three  
Hir names shul noght here be told for me  
And upon pilers grete of jasper longe
I saw a temple of bras y-founded stronge
Aboute the temple daunceden alway
Wommen y-nowe of whiche some ther were
Faire of hem-self and somme of hem were gay
In kirtels al disshevele wente they there  
That was hir office alway yeer by yere  
And on the temple of doves whyte and faire
Saw I sittinge many a hunderede paire
Before the temple-dore ful sobrely
Dame Pees sat with a curteyn in hir hond
And hir besyde wonder discretly
Dame Pacience sitting ther I fond
With face pale upon an hille of sond
And aldernext within and eek with-oute
Behest and Art and of hir folke a route
Within the temple of syghes hoote as fyr
I herde a swogh that gan aboute renne
Which syghes were engendred with desyr
That maden every auter for to brenne
Of newe flaume and wel aspyed I thenne
That al the cause of sorwes that they drye
Com of the bitter goddesse Jalosye
The god Priapus saw I as I wente
Within the temple in sovereyn place stonde
In swich array as whan the asse him shente
With crye by night and with his sceptre in honde
Ful besily men gonne assaye and fonde
Upon his hede to sette of sondry hewe
Garlondes ful of fresshe floures newe
And in a privee corner in disporte
Fond I Venus and hir porter Richesse
That was ful noble and hauteyn of hir porte
Derk was that place but afterward lightnesse
I saw a lyte unnethe it might be lesse
And on a bed of golde she lay to reste
Til that the hoote sonne gan to weste
Hir gilte heres with a golden threde
Y-bounden were untressed as she lay
And naked fro the breste unto the hede
Men might hir see and soothly for to say
The remenant wel kevered to my pay
Right with a subtil coverchief of Valence
Ther was no thikker cloth of no defence
The place yaf a thousand savours swote
And Bachus god of wyn sat hir besyde
And Ceres next that doth of hunger bote
And as I seide amiddes lay Cipryde
To whom on knees two yonge folkes cryde
To ben hir help but thus I leet hir lye
And ferther in the temple I gan espye
That in dispyte of Diane the chaste
Ful many a bowe y-broke heng on the wal
Of maydens suche as gonne hir tymes waste
In hir servyse and peynted over al
Of many a story of which I touche shal
A fewe as of Calixte and Athalaunte
And many a mayde of which the name I wante
Semyramus Candace and Ercules
Biblis Dido Thisbe and Piramus
Tristram Isoude Paris and Achilles
Eleyne Cleopatre and Troilus
Silla and eek the moder of Romulus  
Alle these were peynted on that other syde
And al hir love and in what plyte they dyde
Whan I was come ayen unto the place
That I of spak that was so swote and grene
Forth welk I tho my-selven to solace
Tho was I war wher that ther sat a quene
That as of light the somer-sonne shene
Passeth the sterre right so over mesure
She fairer was than any creature
And in a launde upon an hille of floures
Was set this noble goddesse Nature
Of braunches were hir halles and hir boures
Y-wrought after hir craft and hir mesure
Ne ther nas foul that cometh of engendrure
That they ne were prest in hir presence
To take hir doom and yeve hir audience
For this was on Seynt Valentynes day
Whan every foul cometh ther to chese his make
Of every kinde that men thynke may
And that so huge a noyse gan they make
That erthe and see and tree and every lake
So ful was that unnethe was ther space
For me to stonde so ful was al the place
And right as Aleyn in the Pleynt of Kynde
Devyseth Nature of aray and face
In swich array men mighten hir ther finde
This noble emperesse ful of grace
Bad every foul to take his owne place
As they were wont alwey fro yeer to yere
Seynt Valentynes day to stonden there
That is to sey the foules of ravyne
Were hyest set and than the foules smale
That eten as hem nature wolde enclyne
As worm or thing of whiche I telle no tale
And water-foul sat loweste in the dale
But foul that liveth by seed sat on the grene
And that so fele that wonder was to sene
There mighte men the royal egle finde
That with his sharpe look perceth the sonne
And other egles of a lower kinde
Of which that clerkes wel devysen conne
Ther was the tyraunt with his fethres donne
And greye I mene the goshauk that doth pyne
To briddes for his outrageous ravyne
The gentil faucoun that with his feet distreyneth
The kinges hond the hardy sperhauk eke
The quayles foo the merlion that payneth
Him-self ful ofte the larke for to seke
Ther was the douve with hir eyen meke
The jalous swan ayens his deeth that singeth
The oule eek that of deeth the bode bringeth
The crane the geaunt with his trompes soune
The theef the chogh and eek the jangling pye
The scorning jay the eles foo heroune
The false lapwing ful of trecherye
The stare that the counseyl can biwrey
The tame ruddok and the coward kyte
The cok that orloge is of thorpes lyte
The sparow Venus sone the nightingale
That clepeth forth the fresshe leves newe
The swalow mordrer of the flyes smale
That maken hony of floures fresshe of hewe
The wedded turtel with hir herte trewe
The pecok with his aungels fethres brighte
The fesaunt scorner of the cok by nighte
The waker goos the cukkow ever unkinde
The popiniay ful of delicasye
The drake stroyer of his owne kinde
The stork the wreker of avoutrye
The hote cormeraunt of glotonye
The raven wys the crow with vois of care
The throstel olde the frosty feldefare
What shulde I seyn Of foules every kinde
That in this world han fethres and stature
Men mighten in that place assembled finde
Before the noble goddesse Nature
And ech of hem did his besy cure
Benignely to chese or for to take
By hir acord his formel or his make
But to the poynt   Nature held on hir honde
A formel egle of shap the gentileste
That ever she among hir werkes fonde
The moste benigne and the goodlieste
In hir was every vertu at his reste
So ferforth that Nature hir-self had blisse
To loke on hir and ofte hir bek to kisse
Nature the vicaire of the almighty Lord
That hoot cold hevy light and moist and dreye
Hath knit by even noumbre of acord
In esy vois began to speke and seye
'Foules tak hede of my sentence I preye
And for your ese in furthering of your nede
As faste as I may speke I wol me spede
Ye knowe wel how Seynt Valentynes day
By my statut and through my governaunce
Ye come for to chese   and flee your way  
Your makes as I prik yow with plesaunce
But natheles my rightful ordenaunce
May I not lete for al this world to winne
That he that most is worthy shal beginne
The tercel egle as that ye knowen wel
The foul royal above yow in degree
The wyse and worthy secree trewe as stel
The which I formed have as ye may see
In every part as it best lyketh me
It nedeth noght his shap yow to devyse
He shal first chese and speken in his gyse
And after him by order shul ye chese
After your kinde everich as yow lyketh
And as your hap is shul ye winne or lese
But which of yow that love most entryketh
God sende him hir that sorest for him syketh
And therwith-al the tercel gan she calle
And seyde 'my sone the choys is to thee falle
But natheles in this condicioun
Mot be the choys of everich that is here
That she agree to his eleccioun
What-so he be that shulde be hir fere
This is our usage alwey fro yeer to yere
And who so may at this time have his grace
In blisful tyme he com in-to this place
With hed enclyned and with ful humble chere
This royal tercel spak and taried nought
'Unto my sovereyn lady and noght my fere
I chese and chese with wille and herte and thought
The formel on your hond so wel y-wrought
Whos I am al and ever wol hir serve
Do what hir list to do me live or sterve
Beseching hir of mercy and of grace
As she that is my lady sovereyne
Or let me dye present in this place
For certes long may I not live in peyne
For in myn herte is corven every veyne
Having reward only to my trouthe
My dere herte have on my wo som routhe
And if that I to hir be founde untrewe
Disobeysaunt or wilful negligent
Avauntour or in proces love a newe
I pray to you this be my jugement
That with these foules I be al to-rent
That ilke day that ever she me finde
To hir untrewe or in my gilte unkinde
And sin that noon loveth hir so wel as I
Al be she never of love me behette
Than oghte she be myn thourgh hir mercy
For other bond can I noon on hir knette
For never for no wo ne shal I lette
To serven hir how fer so that she wende
Sey what yow list my tale is at an ende
Right as the fresshe rede rose newe
Ayen the somer-sonne coloured is
Right so for shame al wexen gan the hewe
Of this formel whan she herde al this
She neyther answerde 'Wel' ne seyde amis
So sore abasshed was she til that Nature
Seyde 'doghter drede yow noght I yow assure
Another tercel egle spak anoon
Of lower kinde and seyde 'that shal nat be
I love hir bet than ye do by Seynt John
Or atte leste I love hir as wel as ye
And lenger have served hir in my degree
And if she shulde have loved for long loving
To me allone had been the guerdoninge
I dar eek seye if she me finde fals
Unkinde Iangler or rebel in any wyse
Or Ialous do me hongen by the hals
And but I bere me in hir servyse
As wel as that my wit can me suffyse
From poynt to poynt hir honour for to save
Take she my lyf and al the good I have
The thridde tercel egle answerde tho
'Now sirs ye seen the litel leyser here
For every foul cryeth out to been a-go
Forth with his make or with his lady dere
And eek Nature hir-self ne wol nought here
For tarying here noght half that I wolde seye
And but I speke I mot for sorwe deye
Of long servyse avaunte I me nothing
But as possible is me to dye to-day
For wo as he that hath ben languisshing
Thise twenty winter and wel happen may
A man may serven bet and more to pay
In half a yere al-though it were no more
Than som man doth that hath served ful yore
I ne sey not this by me for I ne can
Do no servyse that may my lady plese
But I dar seyn I am hir trewest man
As to my dome and feynest wolde hir ese
At shorte wordes til that deeth me sese
I wol ben hires whether I wake or winke
And trewe in al that herte may bethinke
Of al my lyf syn that day I was born
So gentil plee in love or other thing
Ne herde never no man me beforn
Who-so that hadde leyser and cunning
For to reherse hir chere and hir speking
And from the morwe gan this speche laste
Til dounward drow the sonne wonder faste
The noyse of foules for to ben delivered
So loude rong 'have doon and let us wende
That wel wende I the wode had al to-shivered
'Come of' they cryde 'allas ye wil us shende
Whan shal your cursed pleding have an ende
How shulde a juge eyther party leve
For yee or nay with-outen any preve
The goos the cokkow and the doke also
So cryden 'kek kek' 'kukkow' 'quek quek' hye
That thorgh myn eres the noyse wente tho
The goos seyde 'al this nis not worth a flye
But I can shape hereof a remedye
And I wol sey my verdit faire and swythe
For water-foul who-so be wrooth or blythe
'And I for worm-foul' seyde the fool cukkow
'For I wol of myn owne auctorite
For comune spede take the charge now
For to delivere us is gret charite
'Ye may abyde a whyle yet parde
Seide the turtel 'if hit be your wille
A wight may speke him were as good be stille
I am a seed-foul oon the unworthieste
That wot I wel and litel of kunninge
But bet is that a wightes tonge reste
Than entermeten him of such doinge
Of which he neyther rede can nor singe
And who-so doth ful foule himself acloyeth
For office uncommitted ofte anoyeth
Nature which that alway had an ere
To murmour of the lewednes behinde
With facound voys seide 'hold your tonges there
And I shal sone I hope a counseyl finde
You to delivere and fro this noyse unbinde
I juge of every folk men shal oon calle
To seyn the verdit for you foules alle
Assented were to this conclusioun
The briddes alle and foules of ravyne
Han chosen first by pleyn eleccioun
The tercelet of the faucon to diffyne
Al hir sentence and as him list termyne
And to Nature him gonnen to presente
And she accepteth him with glad entente
The tercelet seide than in this manere
'Ful hard were it to preve hit by resoun
Who loveth best this gentil formel here
For everich hath swich replicacioun
That noon by skilles may be broght a-doun
I can not seen that argumentes avayle
Than semeth hit ther moste be batayle
'Al redy' quod these egles tercels tho
'Nay sirs' quod he 'if that I dorste it seye
Ye doon me wrong my tale is not y-do
For sirs ne taketh noght a-gref I preye
It may noght gon as ye wolde in this weye
Oure is the voys that han the charge in honde
And to the juges dome ye moten stonde
'And therfor pees I seye as to my wit
Me wolde thinke how that the worthieste
Of knighthode and lengest hath used it
Moste of estat of blode the gentileste
Were sittingest for hir if that hir leste
And of these three she wot hir-self I trowe
Which that he be for it is light to knowe
The water-foules han her hedes leyd
Togeder and of short avysement
Whan everich had his large golee seyd
They seyden soothly al by oon assent
How that the goos with hir facounde gent
That so desyreth to pronounce our nede
Shal telle our tale' and preyde 'God hir spede
And for these water-foules tho began
The goos to speke and in hir cakelinge
She seyde 'Pees now tak kepe every man
And herkeneth which a reson I shal bringe
My wit is sharp I love no taryinge
I seye I rede him though he were my brother
But she wol love him lat him love another
'Lo here a parfit reson of a goos
Quod the sperhauk 'never mot she thee
Lo swich it is to have a tonge loos
Now parde fool yet were hit bet for thee
Han holde thy pees than shewed thy nycete
It lyth not in his wit nor in his wille
But sooth is seyd a fool can noght be stille
The laughter aroos of gentil foules alle
And right anoon the seed-foul chosen hadde
The turtel trewe and gonne hir to hem calle
And preyden hir to seye the sothe sadde
Of this matere and asked what she radde
And she answerde that pleynly hir entente
She wolde shewe and soothly what she mente
'Nay God forbede a lover shulde chaunge
The turtle seyde and wex for shame al reed
'Thogh that his lady ever-more be straunge
Yet let him serve hir ever til he be deed
For sothe I preyse noght the gooses reed
For thogh she deyed I wolde non other make
I wol ben hires til that the deeth me take
'Wel bourded' quod the doke 'by my hat
That men shulde alwey loven causeles
Who can a resoun finde or wit in that
Daunceth he mury that is mirthelees
Who shulde recche of that is recchelees
Ye quek' quod the doke ful wel and faire
'There been mo sterres God woot than a paire
'Now fy cherl' quod the gentil tercelet
'Out of the dunghil com that word ful right
Thou canst noght see which thing is wel be-set
Thou farest by love as oules doon by light
The day hem blent ful wel they see by night
Thy kind is of so lowe a wrechednesse
That what love is thou canst nat see ne gesse
Tho gan the cukkow putte him forth in prees
For foul that eteth worm and seide blyve
'So I' quod he 'may have my make in pees
I recche not how longe that ye stryve
Lat ech of hem be soleyn al hir lyve
This is my reed syn they may not acorde
This shorte lesson nedeth noght recorde
'Ye have the glotoun fild ynogh his paunche
Than are we wel' seyde the merlioun
'Thou mordrer of the heysugge on the braunche
That broghte thee forth thou rewthelees glotoun
Live thou soleyn wormes corrupcioun
For no fors is of lakke of thy nature
Go lewed be thou whyl the world may dure
'Now pees' quod Nature 'I comaunde here
For I have herd al your opinioun
And in effect yet be we never the nere
But fynally this is my conclusioun
That she hir-self shal han the eleccioun
Of whom hir list who-so be wrooth or blythe
Him that she cheest he shal hir have as swythe
For sith it may not here discussed be
Who loveth hir best as seide the tercelet
Than wol I doon hir this favour that she
Shal have right him on whom hir herte is set
And he hir that his herte hath on hir knet
Thus juge I Nature for I may not lye
To noon estat I have non other ye
But as for counseyl for to chese a make
If it were reson certes than wolde I
Counseyle yow the royal tercel take
As seide the tercelet ful skilfully
As for the gentilest and most worthy
Which I have wroght so wel to my plesaunce
That to yow oghte been a suffisaunce
With dredful vois the formel hir answerde
'My rightful lady goddesse of Nature
Soth is that I am ever under your yerde
Lyk as is everich other creature
And moot be youres whyl that my lyf may dure
And therfor graunteth me my firste bone
And myn entente I wol yow sey right sone
'I graunte it you' quod she and right anoon
This formel egle spak in this degree
'Almighty quene unto this yeer be doon
I aske respit for to avysen me
And after that to have my choys al free
This al and sum that I wolde speke and seye
Ye gete no more al-though ye do me deye
I wol noght serven Venus ne Cupyde
For sothe as yet by no manere wey
'Now sin it may non other wyse betyde
Quod Nature 'here is no more to sey
Than wolde I that these foules were a-wey
Ech with his make for tarying lenger here'  
And seyde hem thus as ye shul after here
'To you speke I ye tercelets' quod Nature
'Beth of good herte and serveth alle three
A yeer is not so longe to endure
And ech of yow peyne him in his degree
For to do wel for God woot quit is she
Fro yow this yeer what after so befalle
This entremes is dressed for you alle
And whan this werk al broght was to an ende
To every foule Nature yaf his make
By even acorde and on hir wey they wende
And Lord the blisse and joye that they make
For ech of hem gan other in winges take
And with hir nekkes ech gan other winde
Thanking alwey the noble goddesse of kinde
But first were chosen foules for to singe
As yeer by yere was alwey hir usaunce
To singe a roundel at hir departinge
To do to Nature honour and plesaunce
The note I trowe maked was in Fraunce
The wordes wer swich as ye may heer finde
The nexte vers as I now have in minde
Now welcom somer with thy sonne softe
That hast this wintres weders over-shake
And driven awey the longe nightes blake
'Saynt Valentyn that art ful hy on-lofte  
Thus singen smale foules for thy sake  
Now welcom somer with thy sonne sonne
That hast this wintres weders over-shake
'Wel han they cause for to gladen ofte
Sith ech of hem recovered hath his make
Ful blisful may they singen whan they wake
Now welcom somer with thy sonne softe
That hast this wintres weders over-shake
And driven away the longe nightes blake
And with the showting whan hir song was do
That foules maden at hir flight a-way
I wook and other bokes took me to
To rede upon and yet I rede alway
In hope y-wis to rede so som day
That I shal mete som thing for to fare
The bet and thus to rede I nil not spare
The nobilnes and grit magnificens
Of prince and lord quhai list to magnifie
His ancestre and lineall discens
Suld first extoll and his genolegie
So that his harte he mycht inclyne thairby
The moir to vertew and to worthiness
Herand reherss his eldiris gentilness
It is contrair the lawis of nature
A gentill man to be degenerat
Noucht following of his progenitour
The worthe rewll and the lordly estait
A ryall rynk for to be rusticat
Is bot a monsture in comparesoun
Had in dispyt and foule derisioun
I say this be the grit lordis of Grew
Quhilk sett thair hairt and all thair haill curage
Thair faderis steppis justly to persew
Eiking the wirschep of thair he lenage
The ancient and sadwyse men of age
War tendouris to yung and insolent
To mak thame in all vertewis excellent
Lyk as a strand of water or a spring
Haldis the sapour of the fontell well
So did in Grece ilk lord and worthy king
Of forebearis thay tuk tarage and smell
Among the quhilk of ane I think to tell
Bot first his gentill generatioun
I sall rehers with youre correctioun
Upone the mont of Elecone
The most famous of all Arrabea
A goddes dwelt excellent in bewte
Gentill of blude callit Memoria
Quhilk Jupiter that goddes to wyfe can ta
And carnaly hir knew quhilk eftir syne
Apone a day bare him fair dochteris nyne
The first in Grew wes callit Euterpe
In our language gude delectatioun
The secound maid clippit Melpomyne
As hony sueit in modelation
Thersycore is gud instructioun
Of every thing the thrid sister I wiss
Thus out of Grew in Latyne translait is
Caliope that madin mervalouss
The ferd sistir of all musik maistress
And mother to the king schir Orpheouss
Quhilk throw his wyfe was efter king of Traiss
Clio the fyift that now is a goddess
In Latyne callit meditatioun
Of everything that hes creatioun
The sext sister is callit Herato
Quhilk drawis lyk to lyk in every thing
The sevint lady was fair Polimio
Quhilk cowth a thowsand sangis suietly sing
Talia syne quhilk can our saulis bring
To profound wit and grit agilite
Till undirstand and haif capacitie
Urania the nynt and last of all
In Greik langage quha cowth it rycht expound
Is callit armony celestiall
Rejosing men with melody and sound
Amang thir nyne Calliope was cround
And maid a quene be michty god Phebuss
Off quhome he gat this prince schir Orpheouss
No wondir wes thocht he wes fair and wyse 
Gentill and gud full of liberalitie
His fader god and his progenetryse
A goddess finder of all armony
Quhen he was borne scho set him on hir kne
And gart him souk of hir twa paupis quhyte
The sueit lecour of all musik perfyte
Incressand sone to manheid up he drew
Off statur large and frely fair of face
His noble fame so far it sprang and grew
Till at the last the michty quene of Trace
Excelland fair haboundand in richess
A message send unto that prince so ying
Requyrand him to wed hir and be king
Euridices this lady had to name
And quhene scho saw this prince so glorius
Hir erand to propone scho thocht no schame
With wordis sueit and blenkis amorouss
Said Welcum lord and lufe schir Orpheuss
In this provynce ye sal be king and lord
Thai kissit syne and thus thay can accord
Betuix Orpheuss and fair Euridices
Fra thai war weddit on fra day to day
The low of lufe cowth kyndill and incres
With mirth and blythnes solace and with play
Off wardly joy allace quhat sall I say
Lyk till a flour that plesandly will spring
Quhilk fadis sone and endis with murnyng
I say this be Erudices the quene
Quhilk walkit furth in to a May mornyng
Bot with a madyn untill a medow grene
To tak the air and se the flouris spring
Quhair in a schaw neir by this lady ying
A busteous hird callit Arresteuss
Kepand his beistis lay undir a buss
And quhen he saw this lady solitar
Bairfut with schankis quhyter than the snaw
Preckit with lust he thocht withoutin mair
Hir till oppress - and till hir can he drawe
Dreidand for evill scho fled quhen scho him saw
And as scho ran all bairfute on a buss
Scho trampit on a serpent vennemuss
This crewall venome was so penetrife
As natur is of all mortall pusoun
In peisis small this quenis harte can rife
And scho annone fell on a deidly swoun
Seand this cais Proserpyne maid hir boun
Quhilk clepit is the goddes infernall
Ontill hir court this gentill quene can call
And quhen scho vaneist was and unwisible
Hir madyn wepit with a wofull cheir
Cryand with mony schowt and voce terrible
Quhill at the last King Orpheus can heir
And of hir cry the causs sone cowth he speir
Scho said Allace Euridicess your quene
Is with the phary tane befoir my ene
This noble king inflammit all in yre
And rampand as a lyoun rewanus
With awfull luke and ene glowand as fyre
Sperid the maner and the maid said thuss
Scho strampit on a serpent venemuss
And fell on swoun - with that the quene of fary
Clawcht hir up sone and furth with hir cowth cary
Quhen scho had said the king sichit full soir
His hairt neir brist for verry dule and wo
Half out of mynd he maid no tary moir
Bot tuk his harp and on to wod can go
Wrinkand his handis walkand to and fro
Quhill he mycht stand syne sat doun on a stone
And till his harp thusgait he maid his mone
O dulfull herp with mony dully string
Turne all thy mirth and musik in murning
And seiss of all thy sutell songis sweit
Now weip with me thy lord and cairfull king
Quhilk lossit hes in erd all his lyking
And all thy game thow change in gole and greit
Thy goldin pynnis with mony teiris weit
And all my pane for till report thow preiss
Cryand with me in every steid and streit
'Quhair art thow gone my luve Ewridicess
Him to rejoss yit playit he a spring
Quhill that the fowlis of the wid can sing
And treis dansit with thair levis grene
Him to devod from his greit womenting
Bot all in vane that wailyeit him no thing
His hairt wes so upoun his lusty quene
The bludy teiris sprang out of his ene
Thair wes no solace mycht his sobbing sess
Bot cryit ay with cairis cauld and kene
Quhair art thow gone my lufe Euridicess
Fair weill my place fair weill plesandis and play
And wylcum woddis wyld and wilsum way
My wicket werd in wildirnes to ware
My rob ryell and all my riche array
Changit sal be in rude russet and gray
My dyademe in till a hate of hair
My bed sal be with bever brok and bair
In buskis bene with mony busteouss bess
Withouttin song sayand with siching sair
'Quhair art thow gone my luve Euridicess
I the beseik my fair fader Phebuss
Haif pety of thy awin sone Orpheuss
Wait thow nocht weill I am thy sone and chyld
Now heir my plaint peinfull and peteuss
Direk me fro this deid so doloruss
Quhilk gois thus withouttin gilt begyld
Lat nocht thy face with cluddis to be oursyld
Len me thy lycht and lat me nocht go leiss
To find that fair in fame that was nevir fyld
My lady quene and lufe Euridicess
O Jupiter thow god celestiall
And grantschir to my self on the I call
To mend my murning and my drery mone
Thou gif me forss that I nocht fant nor fall
Till I hir fynd forsuth seik hir I sall
And nowthir stint nor stand for stok nor stone
Throw thy godheid gyde me quhair scho is gone
Gar hir appeir and put my hairt in pess
King Orpheuss thus with his harp allone
Sore wepit for his wyf Erudices
Quhen endit wer thir songis lamentable
He tuk his harp and on his breist can hing
Syne passit to the hevin as sayis the fable
To seik his wyfe - bot that welyeid no thing
By Wedlingis Streit he went but tareing
Syne come doun throw the speir of Saturne ald
Quhilk fader is to all the stormis cald
Quhen scho wes soucht outhrow that cauld regioun
Till Jupiter his grandschir can he wend
Quhilk rewit soir his lamentatioun
And gart his spheir be socht fro end to end
Scho was nocht thair and doun he can descend
Till Mars the god of batell and of stryfe
And socht his spheir yit gat he nocht his wyfe
Than went he doun till his fadir Phebus
God of the sone with bemis brycht and cleir
Bot quhen he saw his awin sone Orpheuss
In sic a plicht that changit all his cheir
He gart annone ga seik throw all his spheir
Bot all in vane his lady come nocht thair
He tuk his leif and to Venus can fair
Quhen he hir saw he knelit and said thuss
Wait ye nocht weill I am your awin trew knycht
In luve none leler than schir Orpheuss
And ye of luve goddass and most of micht
Of my lady help me to get a sicht
For suth quod scho ye mone seik nedirmair
Than fra Venus he tuk his leif but mair
Till Mercury but tary is he gone
Quhilk callit is the god of eloquens
Bot of his wyf thair gat he knawlege none
Wyth wofull hairt he passit doun frome thens
On to the mone he maid na residens
Thus from the hevin he went onto the erd
Yit be the way sum melody he lerd
In his passage amang the planeitis all
He hard a hevinly melody and sound
Passing all instrumentis musicall
Causit be rollyn of the speiris round
Quhilk armony of all this mappamound
Quhilk moving seiss unyt perpetuall -
Quhilk of this warld Plato the saul can call
Thare leirit he tonis proportionat
As duplare triplare and epetritus
Enolius and eik the quadruplait
Epoddeus rycht hard and curius
Off all thir sex sueite and delicius
Rycht consonant fyfe hevinly symphonyss
Componyt ar as clerkis can devyse
First diatesserone full sueit I wiss
And dyapasone semple and duplate
And dyapenty componyt with the dyss
Thir makis fyve of thre multiplicat
This mirry musik and mellefluat
Compleit and full of nummeris od and evin
Is causit be the moving of the hevin
Off sic musik to wryt I do bot doit
Thairfor of this mater a stray I lay
For in my lyfe I cowth nevir sing a noit
Bot I will tell how Orpheus tuk the way
To seik his wyfe attour the gravis gray
Hungry and cauld our mony wilsum wone
Withouttin gyd he and his harp allone
He passit furth the space of twenty dayis
Fer and full fer and ferrer than I can tell
And ay he fand streitis and reddy wayis
Till at the last unto the get of hell
He come and thair he fand a porter fell
With thre heidis was callit Serberus
A hound of hell a monstour mervellus
Than Orpheus began to be agast
Quhen he beheld that ugly hellis hound
He tuk his harp and on it playit fast
Till at the last throw sueitnes of the sound
The dog slepit and fell doun on the ground
And Orpheus attour his wame in stall
And neddirmair he went as ye heir sall
Than come he till a rywir wonder depe
Our it a brig and on it sisteris thre
Quhilk had the entre of the brig to keip
Electo Mygra and Thesaphone
Turnit a quheill wes ugly for to se
And on it spred a man hecht Ixione
Rolland about rycht windir wo begone
Than Orpheus playd a joly spring
The thre susteris full fast thay fell on sleip
The ugly quheill seisit of hir quhirling
Thus left wes none the entre for to keip
Thane Ixion out of the quheill gan creip
And stall away and Orpheus annone
Without stopping atour the brig is gone
Syne come he till a wonder grisely flude
Drubly and deip that rythly doun can rin
Quhair Tantelus nakit full thristy stude
And yit the wattir yede aboif his chin
Quhen he gaipit thair wald no drop cum in
Quhen he dowkit the watter wald discend
Thus gat he nocht his thrist to slake nor mend
Befoir his face ane apill hang also
Fast at his mouth upoun a twynid threde
Quhen he gaipit it rollit to and fro
And fled as it refusit him to feid
Quhen Orpheus thus saw him suffir neid
He tuk his harp and fast on it can clink
The wattir stud and Tantalus gat a drink
Syne ovr a mure with thornis thik and scherp
Wepand allone a wilsum way he went
And had nocht bene throw suffrage of his harp
With fell pikis he had bene schorne and schent
As he blenkit besyd hym on the bent
He saw lyand speldit a wofull wicht
Nalit full fast and Titius he hecht
And on his breist thair sat a grisly grip
Quhilk with his bill his belly throw can boir
Both maw myddret hart lever and trip
He ruggit out his panis was the moir
Quhen Orpheus thus saw him this suffir soir
He tuke his herp and maid sueit melody
The grip is fled and Titius left his cry
Beyond this mure he fand a feirfull streit
Myrk as the nycht to pass rycht dengerus -
For sliddreness skant mycht he hald his feit -
In quhilk thair wes a stynk rycht odiuss
That gydit him to hiddouss hellis hous
Quhair Rodomantus and Proserpina
Wer king and quene and Orpheus in can ga
O dully place and grundles deip dungeoun
Furnes of fyre and stink intollerable
Pit of dispair without remissioun
Thy meit wennome thy drink is pusonable
Thy grit panis to compte unnumerable
Quhat creature cumis to dwell in the
Is ay deand and nevirmoir sall de
Thair fand he mony cairfull king and quene
With croun on heid with brass full birnand
Quhilk in thair lyfe rycht maisterful had bene
And conquerouris of gold richess and land
Hectore of Troy and Priame thair he fand
And Alexander for his wrang conqueist
Antiochus als for his foull incest
And Julius Cesar for his foull crueltee
And Herod wyth his brudiris wyfe he saw
And Nero for his grit iniquitie
And Pilot for his breking of the law
Syne undir that he lukit and cowth knaw
Cresus that king none mychtiar on mold
For cuvatyse yet full of birnand gold
Thair saw he Pharo for the oppressioun
Of Godis folk on quhilk the plaigis fell
And Sawll for the grit abusioun
Of Justice to the folk of Israell
Thair saw he Acob and quene Jesabell
Quhilk silly Nabot that was a propheit trew
For his wyne yaird withouttin mercy slew
Thair saw he mony paip and cardynall
In haly kirk quhilk did abusioun
And bischopis in thair pontificall
Be symonie and wrang intrusioun
Abbottis and all men of religioun
For evill disponyng of thair place and rent
In flame of fyre wer bittirly torment
Syne neddirmair he went quhair Pluto was
And Proserpyne and thiderward he drew
Ay playand on his harp quhair he cowth pass
Till at the last Erudices he knew
Lene and deidlyk peteouss paill of hew
Rycht warsche and wane and walluid as the weid
Hir lilly lyre was lyk unto the leid
Quod he My lady leill and my delyt
Full wo is me to se yow changit thus
Quhair is your rude as ross wyth cheikis quhyte
Your cristell ene with blenkis amorus
Your lippis reid to kiss delicius
Quod scho As now I der nocht tell perfay
Bot ye sall wit the causs ane uthir day
Quod Pluto Schir thocht scho be lyk ane elf
Scho hes no causs to plenye and for quhy
Scho fairis alsweill daylie as dois my self
Or king Herod for all his chevelry
It is langour that putis hir in sic ply
War scho at hame in hir cuntre of Trace
Scho wald rewert full sone in fax and face
Than Orpheus befoir Pluto sat doun
And in his handis quhit his herp can ta
And playit mony sueit proportioun
With baiss tonys in ypodorica
With gemilling in yporlerica
Quhill at the last for rewth and grit petie
Thay weipit soir that cowth him heir or se
Than Proserpene and Pluto bad him ass
His waresoun and he wald haif rycht nocht
Bot licience wyth his wyfe away to pass
To his cuntre that he so far had socht
Quod Proserpyne Sen I hir hiddir brocht
We sall nocht pairte without conditioun
Quod he Thairto I mak promissioun
Eruidices than be the hand thow tak
And pass thi way bot undirneth this pane
Gife thow turnis or blenkis behind thy bak
We sall hir haif forewir till hell agane
Thocht this was hard yit Orpheus was fane
And on thay went talkand of play and sport
Till thay almost come to the outwart port
Thus Orpheus with inwart lufe repleit
So blindit was with grit effectioun
Pensyfe apon his wyf and lady sueit
Remembrit nocht his hard conditioun
Quhat will ye moir In schort conclusioun
He blent bakwart and Pluto come annone
And on to hell with hir agane is gone
Allace it was grit pety for to heir
Of Orpheus the weping and the wo
How his lady that he had bocht so deir
Bot for a luk so sone wes tane him fro
Flatlingis he fell and micht no fordir go
And lay a quhyle in swoun and extasy
Quhen he ourcome this out of lufe can cry
Quhat art thow luve How sall I the defyne
Bittir and sueit crewall and merciable
Plesand to sum til uthir plent and pyne
Till sum constant to uthir wariable
Hard is thy law thy bandis unbrekable
Quho servis the thocht thay be newir so trew
Perchance sum tyme thay sall haif causs to rew
Now find I weill this proverb trew quod he
Hart on the hurd and handis on the soir
Quhair luve gois on fors mone turne the e
I am expart and wo is me thairfoir
Bot for a luke my lady is forloir
Thus chydand on with luve our burne and bent
A wofull wedo hamewart is he went
Lo wirthy folk Boece that senatour
To wryt this fenyeit fable tuk in cure
In his gay buke of consolatioun
For our doctrene and gud instructioun
Quhilk in the self suppoiss it fenyeid be
And hid under the cloik of poetre
Yit maister Trivat doctour Nicholass
Quhilk in his tyme a noble theologe wass
Applyis it to gud moralitie
Rycht full of fructe and seriositie
Fair Phebus is the god of sapience
Caliope his wyfe is eloquence
Thir twa mareit gat Orpheus belyfe
Quhilk callit is the pairte intellectyfe
Off manis saule and undirstanding fre
And separat fra sensualitie
Euridices is our effectioun
Be fantesy oft movit up and doun
Quhile to ressone it castis the delyte
Quhile to the flesche it settis the appetyte
Arestius this hird that cowth persew
Euridices is nocht bot gud vertew
That bissy is to keip our myndis clene
Bot quhen we fle outthrow the medow grene
Fra vertew till this warldis vane plesans
Myngit with cair and full of variance
The serpentis stang that is the deidly syn
That posownis the saule without and in
And than is deid and eik oppressit doun
Till warldly lust and all our affectioun
Thane perfyte wisdome weipis wondir soir
Seand thus gait our appetyte misfair
And passis up to the hevyn belyve
Schawand to us the lyfe contemplatyfe
The perfyte wit and eik the fervent luve
We suld haif allway to the hevin abuve
Bot seildin thair our appetyte is fundin
It is so fast within the body bundin
Thairfoir dounwart we cast our myndis e
Blindit with lust and may nocht upwartis fle
Sould our desyre be socht up in the spheiris
Quhen it is tedderit in thir warldly breiris
Quhyle on the flesch quhyle on this warldis wrak
And to the hevin small intent we tak
Schir Orpheus thou seikis all in vane
Thy wyfe so he thairfoir cum doun agane
And pas unto the monster mervellus
With thre heidis that we call Cerberus
Quhilk feinyeid is to haif so mony heidis
For to betakin thre maner of deidis
The first is in the tendir yong bernage
The secound deid is in the middill age
The thrid is in greit eild quhen men ar tane
Thus Cerberus to swelly sparis nane
Bot quhen our mynd is myngit with sapience
And plais upoun the herp of eloquence
That is to say makis persuasioun
To draw our will and our affectioun
In every eild fra syn and fowll delyte
This dog our sawll na power hes to byte
The secound monstris ar the sistiris thre
Electo Migera and Thesaphany
Ar nocht ellis in bukis as we reid
Bot wickit thocht evill word and thrawart deid
Electo is the bolling of the harte
Mygera is the wickit word outwert
Thesaphany is operatioun
That makis fynall executioun
Of deidly syn and thir thre turnis ay
The ugly quheill quhilk is nocht ellis to say
Bot warldly men sumtyme ar castin he
Upone the quheill in gret prosperitie
And with a quhirle onwarly or thai wait
Ar thrawin doun to pure and law estait
Of Ixione that on the quheill wes spreid
I sall yow tell of sum pairte as I haif red
He was on lyfe brukle and lecherous
And in that craft hardy and curagus
That he wald luve in to no lawar place
Bot Juno quene of nature and goddace
And on a day he went up on the sky
And socht Juno thinkand with hir to ly
Scho saw him cum and knew his foull intent
A rany clud doun fra the firmament
Scho gart discend and kest betuix thame two
And in that clud his nature yeid him fro
Of quhilk was generat the sentowriss
Half man half hors upoun a ferly wis
Thane for the inwart craving and offens
That Juno tuke for his grit violens
Scho send him doun unto the sistiris thre
Upone a quheill ay turnyt for to be
Bot quhen ressoun and perfyte sapience
Playis upone the herp of eloquens
And persuadis our fleschly appetyte
To leif the thocht of this warldly delyte
Than seisis of our hert the wicket will
Fra frawart language than the tong is still
Our synfull deidis fallis doun on sleip
Thane Ixione out of the quheill gan creip
That is to say the greit solicitud
Quhyle up quhyle doun to win this warldis gud
Seissis furthwith and our affectioun
Waxis quiet in contemplatioun
This Tantalus of quhome I spak of aire
Quhill he levit he was a gay ostlaire
And on a nycht come travilland thairby
The god of richess and tuk harbery
With Tantalus and he till his supper
Slew his awin sone that was hym leif and deir
He gart the god eit up his flesche ilk deill
In till a sew with spycis soddin weill
For this dispyt quhen he was deid annone
Was dampnit in the flud of Acherone
Till suffer hungir thrist nakit and cawld
Rycht wo begone as I befoir haif tould
This hungry man and thirsty Tantalus
Betaknis men gredy and covetouss
The god of riches that ar ay redy
For to ressaif and tak in harbery
And till him sieth his sone in pecis small
That is the flesch and blud with grit travell
To full the bag and nevir fund in thair hairt
Upoun thame self to spend nor tak thair pairte
Allace in erd quhair is thair mair foly
Than for to want and haif haboundantly -
Till haif distress on bed on bak and burd
And spar till othir men of gold a hurde
And in the nycht sleip soundly thay may nocht
To gaddir geir so gredy is thair thocht
Bot quhen that ressoun and intelligence
Smytis upoun the herp of conscience
Schawand to ws quhat perrell on ilk syd
That thai incur quhay will trest or confyd
Into this warldis vane prosperitie
Quhilk hes thir sory properteis thre
That is to say gottin with grit labour
Keipit with dreid and tynt with grit dolour -
This grit avariss be grace quha undirstud
I trow suld leif thair grit solicitude
And ithand thouchtis and thair besynes
To gaddir gold and syne leif in distres
Bot he suld drink ineuch quhen ewir hym list
Of covatyse to slaik the birnand thrist
This Titius lay nalit on the bent
And wyth the grip his bowellis revin and rent
Quhill he levit sett his entencion
To find the craft of divinatioun
And lyrit it unto the spamen all
To tell befoir sic thingis as wald befall
Quhat lyfe quhat deth quhat destany and werd
Provydit ware unto every man on erd
Apollo than for this abusioun
Quhilk is the god of divinatioun
For he usurpit of his facultie
Put him to hell and thair remanis he
Ilk man that heiris this conclusioun
Suld dreid to serss be constillatioun
Thingis to fall undir the firmament
Till ye or na quhilk ar indefferent 
Without profixit causis and certane
Quhilk nane in erd may knaw bot God allane
Quhen Orpheus upoun his harp can play
That is our undirstanding for to say
Cryis O man recleme thi folich harte
Will thow be God and tak on the his parte
To tell thingis to cum that nevir wil be
Quhilk God hes kepit in his prevetie
Thow ma no mair offend to God of micht
Na with thi spaying reif fra him his richt
This perfyte wisdome with his melody
Fleyis the spreit of fenyeid profecy
And drawis upwart our affectioun
Fra wichcraft spaying and sorsery
And superstitioun of astrology -
Saif allanerly sic maner of thingis
Quhilk upoun trew and certane caussis hingis
The quhilk mone cum to thair causis indure
On verry forss and nocht throw avanture
As is the clippis and the conjunctioun
Of sone and mone be calculatioun
The quhilk ar fundin in trew astronomy
Be moving of the speiris in the sky
All thir to speik it may be tollerable
And none udir quhilk no caussis stable
This ugly way this myrk and dully streit
Is nocht ellis bot blinding of the spreit
With myrk cluddis and myst of ignorance
Affetterrit in this warldis vane plesance
And bissines of temporalite
To kene the self a styme it may nocht se
For stammeris on eftir effectioun
Fra ill to war ale thus to hell gois doun
That is wan howp throw lang hanting of syn
And fowll dispair that mony fallis in
Than Orpheus our ressoun is full wo
And twichis on his harp and biddis ho
Till our desyre and fulich appetyte
Bidis leif this warldis full delyte
Than Pluto god and quene of hellis fyre
Mone grant to ressoun on forss the desyre
Than Orpheus hes wone Euridices
Quhen our desyre with ressoun makis pess
And seikis up to contemplatioun
Of syn detestand the abutioun
Bot ilk man suld be wyse and warly se
That he bakwart cast nocht his myndis e
Gifand consent and delectatioun
Of fleschly lust and for the affectioun
For thane gois bakwart to the syn agane
Our appetyte as it befoir was slane
In warldly lust and vane prosperite
And makis ressoun wedow for to be
Now pray we God sen our affectioun
Is allway promp and reddy to fall doun
That He wald undirput His haly hand
Of mantenans and gife us forss to stand
In perfyte luve as He is glorius
And thus endis the taill of Orpheus
