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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1247-1421:
Criseyde explains that she has to follow her fate
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book IV, lines 1422-1526: Troilus comforts Criseyde

This Troilus, with herte and eeris spradde,
Herde al this thing devysen to and fro;
And verraylich him semed that he hadde
1425The selve wit; but yet to lete hir go
His herte misforyaf him ever-mo.
But fynally, he gan his herte wreste
To trusten hir, and took it for the beste.

For which the grete furie of his penaunce
1430Was queynt with hope, and therwith hem bitwene
Bigan for joye the amorouse daunce.
And as the briddes, whan the sonne is shene,
Delyten in hir song in leves grene,
Right so the wordes that they spake yfeere
1435Delyted hem, and made hir hertes clere.

But natheles, the wending of Criseyde,
For al this world, may nought out of his minde;
For which ful ofte he pitously hir preyde,
That of hir heste he might hir trewe finde,
1440And seyde hire, `Certes, if ye be unkinde,
And but ye come at day set into Troye,
Ne shal I never have hele, honour, ne joye.

`For also sooth as sonne uprist on morwe,
And, god! So wisly thou me, woful wrecche,
1445To reste bringe out of this cruel sorwe,
I wol myselven slee if that ye drecche.
But of my deeth though litel be to recche,
Yet, er that ye me cause so to smerte,
Dwel rather here, myn owene swete herte!

1450`For trewely, myn owene lady dere,
Tho sleightes yet that I have herd yow stere
Ful shaply been to failen alle yfere.
For thus men seyn, "That oon thenketh the bere,
But al another thenketh his ledere."
1455Your sire is wys, and seyd is, out of drede,
"Men may the wyse at-renne, and not at-rede."

`It is ful hard to halten unespyed
Bifore a crepul, for he kan the craft;
Your fader is in sleighte as Argus yed;
1460For al be that his moeble is him biraft,
His olde sleighte is yet so with him laft,
Ye shal not blende him for your womanhede,
Ne feyne aright, and that is al my drede.

`I noot if pees shal ever-mo bityde;
1465But, pees or no, for ernest ne for game,
I woot, syn Calkas on the Grekis syde
Hath ones been, and lost so foule his name,
He dar no more come here ayein for shame;
For which that weye, for ought I can espye,
1470To trusten on, nis but a fantasye.

`Ye shal eek seen, your fader shal yow glose
To been a wyf, and as he kan wel preche,
He shal som Grek so preyse and wel alose,
That ravisshen he shal yow with his speche,
1475Or do yow doon by force as he shal teche.
And Troilus, of whom ye nil han routhe,
Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe!

`And over al this, your fader shal despyse
Us alle, and seyn this citee nis but lorn;
1480And that th'assege never shal aryse,
For-why the Grekes han it alle sworn
Til we be slayn, and doun our walles torn.
And thus he shal yow with his wordes fere,
That ay drede I, that ye wol bleve there.

1485`Ye shul eek seen so many a lusty knight
A-mong the Grekes, ful of worthinesse,
And ech of hem with herte, wit, and might
To plesen yow don al his besinesse,
That ye shul dullen of the rudenesse
1490Of us sely Troianes, but-if routhe
Remorde yow, or vertue of your trouthe.

`And this to me so grevous is to thinke,
That fro my brest it wol my soule rende;
Ne dredelees, in me ther may not sinke
1495A good opinioun, if that ye wende;
For-why your faderes sleighte wol us shende.
And if ye goon, as I have told yow yore,
So thenk I nam but deed, withoute more.

`For which, with humble, trewe, and pitous herte,
1500A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye;
So reweth on myn aspre peynes smerte,
And doth somwhat, as that I shal yow seye,
And lat us stele away bitwixe us tweye;
And thenk that folye is, whan man may chese,
1505For accident his substaunce ay to lese.

`I mene this, that syn we mowe er day
Wel stele away, and been togider so,
What wit were it to putten in assay,
In cas ye sholden to your fader go,
1510If that ye mighte come ayein or no?
Thus mene I, that it were a gret folye
To putte that sikernesse in jupertye.

`And vulgarly to speken of substaunce
Of tresour, may we bothe with us lede
1515Ynough to live in honour and plesaunce,
Til into tyme that we shal ben dede;
And thus we may eschewen al this drede.
For everich other wey ye can recorde,
Myn herte, ywis, may not therwith acorde.

1520`And hardily, ne dredeth no poverte,
For I have kin and freendes elles-where
That, though we comen in oure bare sherte,
Us sholde neither lakke gold ne gere,
But been honured whyl we dwelten there.
1525And go we anoon, for, as in myn entente,
This is the beste, if that ye wole assente.'

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1527-1652:
Criseyde comforts Troilus