From Geoffrey Chaucer's "Troilus and Criseyde", Book IV, lines 1212-1246

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1149-1211:
Criseyde swoons and Troilus draws his sword to kill himself

Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book IV, lines 1212-1246: Criseyde awakes, stops Troilus and suggests to talk about their mutual grief in bed

	But as God wolde, of swough therwith she abreyde,
	And gan to syke, and `Troilus' she cryde;
	And he answerde, `Lady myn Criseyde,
1215	Live ye yet?' and leet his swerd doun glyde.
	`Ye, herte myn, that thanked be Cupyde!'
	Quod she, and therwithal she sore sighte;
	And he bigan to glade hir as he mighte;

Took hir in armes two, and kiste hir ofte,

1220 And hir to glade he dide al his entente;

For which hir goost, that flikered ay on-lofte,

In-to hir woful herte ayein it wente.

But at the laste, as that hir eyen glente

A-syde, anoon she gan his swerd aspye,

1225 As it lay bare, and gan for fere crye,

And asked him, why he it hadde out drawe?

And Troilus anon the cause hir tolde,

And how himself therwith he wolde have slawe.

For which Criseyde upon him gan biholde,

1230 And gan him in hir armes faste folde,

And seyde, `O mercy, God, lo, which a dede!

Allas! How neigh we were bothe dede!

`Thanne if I ne hadde spoken, as grace was,

Ye wolde han slayn yourself anoon?' quod she.

1235 `Ye, douteless;' and she answerde, `Allas!

For, by that ilke lord that made me,

I nolde a forlong wey on-lyve han be,

After your deeth, to han been crouned quene

Of al the lond the sonne on shyneth shene.

1240 `But with this selve swerd, which that here is,

Myselve I wolde han slayn!' -- quod she tho;

`But ho, for we han right ynogh of this,

And late us ryse and streight to bedde go

And there lat ys speken of oure wo.

1245 For, by the morter which that I see brenne,

Knowe I ful wel wel that day is not fer henne.'

Next:
From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1247-1421:
Criseyde explains that she has to follow her fate

	Took hir in armes two, and kiste hir ofte,
1220	And hir to glade he dide al his entente;
	For which hir goost, that flikered ay on-lofte,
	In-to hir woful herte ayein it wente.
	But at the laste, as that hir eyen glente
	A-syde, anoon she gan his swerd aspye,
1225	As it lay bare, and gan for fere crye,

	And asked him, why he it hadde out drawe?
	And Troilus anon the cause hir tolde,
	And how himself therwith he wolde have slawe.
	For which Criseyde upon him gan biholde,
1230	And gan him in hir armes faste folde,
	And seyde, `O mercy, God, lo, which a dede!
	Allas! How neigh we were bothe dede!

	`Thanne if I ne hadde spoken, as grace was,
	Ye wolde han slayn yourself anoon?' quod she.
1235	`Ye, douteless;' and she answerde, `Allas!
	For, by that ilke lord that made me,
	I nolde a forlong wey on-lyve han be,
	After your deeth, to han been crouned quene
	Of al the lond the sonne on shyneth shene.

1240	`But with this selve swerd, which that here is,
	Myselve I wolde han slayn!' -- quod she tho;
	`But ho, for we han right ynogh of this,
	And late us ryse and streight to bedde go
	And there lat ys speken of oure wo.
1245	For, by the morter which that I see brenne,
	Knowe I ful wel wel that day is not fer henne.'