From Geoffrey Chaucer's "Troilus and Criseyde", Book III, lines 155-203

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 113-154:
Troilus declares his love for Criseyde

Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book III, lines 155-203: Criseyde declares her love to Troilus

155	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,
160	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,

165 And myn honour, with wit and besinesse

Ay kepe; and if I may don him gladnesse,

From hennesforth, ywis, I nil not feyne:

Now beeth al hool; no lenger ye ne pleyne.

`But nathelees, this warne I yow,' quod she,

170 `A kinges sone although ye be, ywis,

Ye shal namore han soverainetee

Of me in love, than right in that cas is;

Ne I nil forbere, if that ye doon amis,

To wrathen yow; and whyl that ye me serve,

175 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 into swetenesse.

180 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,

185 `Immortal God!' quod he, `That mayst nought dyen,

Cupide I mene, of this mayst glorifye;

And Venus, thou mayst maken melodye;

Withouten hond, me semeth that in the towne,

For this merveyle, I here ech belle sowne.

190 `But ho! No more as now of this matere,

Forwhy this folk wol comen up anoon,

That han the lettre red; lo, I hem here.

But I conjure thee, Criseyde, anon,

And two, thou Troilus, whan thow mayst goon,

195 That at myn hous ye been at my warninge,

For I ful wel shal shape youre cominge;

`And eseth ther your hertes right ynough;

And lat see which of yow shal bere the belle

To speke of love aright!' therwith he lough,

200 `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.'

Next:
From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 204-343:
Pandarus lectures Troilus about how to treat his niece Criseyde

	`Biseching him, for Goddes love, that he
	Wolde, in honour of trouthe and gentilesse,
	As I wel mene, eek mene wel to me,
165	And myn honour, with wit and besinesse
	Ay kepe; and if I may don him gladnesse,
	From hennesforth, ywis, I nil not feyne:
	Now beeth al hool; no lenger ye ne pleyne.

	`But nathelees, this warne I yow,' quod she,
170	`A kinges sone although ye be, ywis,
	Ye shal namore han soverainetee
	Of me in love, than right in that cas is;
	Ne I nil forbere, if that ye doon amis,
	To wrathen yow; and whyl that ye me serve,
175	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 into swetenesse.
180	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,
185	`Immortal God!' quod he, `That mayst nought dyen,
	Cupide I mene, of this mayst glorifye;
	And Venus, thou mayst maken melodye;
	Withouten hond, me semeth that in the towne,
	For this merveyle, I here ech belle sowne.

190	`But ho! No more as now of this matere,
	Forwhy this folk wol comen up anoon,
	That han the lettre red; lo, I hem here.
	But I conjure thee, Criseyde, anon,
	And two, thou Troilus, whan thow mayst goon,
195	That at myn hous ye been at my warninge,
	For I ful wel shal shape youre cominge;

	`And eseth ther your hertes right ynough;
	And lat see which of yow shal bere the belle
	To speke of love aright!' therwith he lough,
200	`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.'