From Geoffrey Chaucer's "Troilus and Criseyde", Book II, lines 1247-1295

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book II, lines 1184-1246:
Criseyde writes a letter to Troilus, hands over the letter to Pandarus, but asks Pandarus not to reveal the letter to Troilus

Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book II, lines 1247-1295: Criseyde says to Pandarus that she loves Troilus, but she wants to stay free

	And right as they declamed this matere,
	Lo, Troilus, right at the stretes ende,
	Com ryding with his tenthe some yfeere,
1250	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, ysee who cometh here ryde!

`O flee not in, he seeth us, I suppose;

1255 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,

1260 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 array?

1265 Criseyde, which that alle these thinges say,

To telle in short, hir lyked al yfeere

His persone, his array, his look, his chere,

His goodly manere, and his gentillesse,

So wel, that never, sith that she was born,

1270 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!

1275 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,

1280 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 yourself that I not lye;

Lo, yond he rit!' Quod she, `Ye, so he dooth!'

1285 `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;

1290 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,

1295 And gerdoun him with nothing but with sighte.'

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book II, lines 1296-1351:
Troilus reads Criseyde's letter and his love increases

	`O flee not in, he seeth us, I suppose;
1255	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,
1260	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 array?
1265	Criseyde, which that alle these thinges say,
	To telle in short, hir lyked al yfeere
	His persone, his array, his look, his chere,

	His goodly manere, and his gentillesse,
	So wel, that never, sith that she was born,
1270	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!

1275	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,
1280	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 yourself that I not lye;
	Lo, yond he rit!' Quod she, `Ye, so he dooth!'
1285	`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;
1290	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,
1295	And gerdoun him with nothing but with sighte.'