This Pandarus com leping in at ones,
940	And seiyde thus: `Who hath ben wel ybete
	To-day with swerdes, and with slinge-stones,
	But Troilus, that hath caught him an hete?'
	And gan to jape, and seyde, `Lord, so ye swete!
	But rys, and lat us soupe and go to reste;'
945	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;
950	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;
955	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.

960	`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.'
965	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,
970	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,
975	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,
	Ech after other, God so wis me save,
	Ne mighte me so gladen; lo, myn herte,
980	It spredeth so for joye, 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?
985	Thou mayst answere, "Abyd, abyd," 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;
990	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.

995	`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;
1000	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,
1005	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;
1010	And whan thou wost that I am with hir there,
	Worth thou up-on a courser right anoon,
	Ye, hardily, right in thy beste geere,
	And ryd forth by the place, as nought ne were,
	And thou shalt finde us, if I may, sittinge
1015	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!
1020	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 ynough,
	I woot thow nilt it digneliche endyte;
1025	As make it with thise argumentes tough;
	Ne scrivenish or craftily thou it wryte;
	Beblotte it with thy teeris eek a lyte;
	And if thou wryte a goodly word al softe,
	Though it be good, reherce it not to ofte.

1030	`For though the beste harpour upon lyve
	Wolde on the beste souned joly 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,
1035	It shulde maken every wight to dulle,
	To here his glee, and of his strokes fulle.

	`Ne jompre eek no discordaunt thing yfeere,
	As thus, to usen termes of phisik;
	In loves termes, hold of thy matere
1040	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 jape.'

Next: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book II, lines 1044-1092: Troilus writes a letter to Criseyde