Whan he was come, he gan anoon to pleye
555	As he was wont, and of himself to jape;
	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,
560	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 anon.'
565	So at the laste herof 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?
570	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 levere a thousand fold to dye.'

575	Nought list myn auctor fully to declare
	What that she thoughte whan he seyde so,
	That Troilus was out of town yfare,
	As if he seyde therof sooth or no;
	But that, withouten awayt, with him to go,
580	She graunted him, sith he hir that bisoughte
	And, as his nece, obeyed as hir oughte.

	But nathelees, yet gan she him biseche,
	Although with him to goon it was no fere,
	For to be war of goosish peples speche,
585	That dremen thinges whiche that never were,
	And wel avyse him whom he broughte there;
	And seyde him, `Eem, syn I moot on yow triste,
	Loke al be wel, and do now as yow liste.'

	He swor hire, `Yis, by stokkes and by stones,
590	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,
595	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,
600	But Troilus, that stood and mighte it see
	Thurgh-out a litel windowe in a stewe,
	Ther he bishet, syn midnight, was in mewe,

	Unwist of every wight but of Pandare?
	But to the poynt; now whan that she was come
605	With alle joye, 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 woot, ther was no deyntee for to fette.

610	And after souper gonnen they to ryse,
	At ese wel, with hertes fresshe and glade,
	And wel was him that koude best devyse
	To lyken hir, or that hir laughen made.
	He song; she pleyde; he tolde tale of Wade.
615	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,
620	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,
625	Saturne, and Jove, in Cancro joyned 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,
630	`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,
635	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;
640	And syn 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.'

645	`I wol,' quod she, `myn uncle leef and dere,
	Syn 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;
650	`Were it a game or no, soth for to telle,
	Now am I glad, syn that yow list to dwelle.'

Next: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 652-693: Due to bad weather, Pandarus persuades Criseyde to sleep over at his house