Previous: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book I, lines 323-399: Troilus falls in love with Criseyde

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400	`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
405	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, wherto pleyne I thenne?
410	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
415	Compleyne, y-wis; thus possed to and fro,
	Al sterelees withinne a boot am I
	A-mid the see, bitwixen windes two,
	That in contrarie stonden ever-mo.
	Allas! what is this wonder maladye?
420	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;
425	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 unto youre vertu digne;
430	Wherfore, lord, if my servyse or I
	May lyke yow, so beth to me benigne;
	For myn estat royal here I resigne
	Into hir hond, and with ful humble chere
	Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere.'

435	In him ne deyned sparen blood royal
	The fyr of love, wherfro 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,
440	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;
445	For-thy ful ofte, his hote fyr to cese,
	To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese;
	For therby 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,
450	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
455	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,
460	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;
465	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!

Next: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book I, lines 470-539: Troilus becomes lovesick