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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1422-1526:
Troilus comforts Criseyde
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book IV, lines 1527-1652: Criseyde comforts Troilus

Criseyde, with a syk, right in this wyse
Answerde, `Ywis, my dere herte trewe,
We may wel stele away, as ye devyse,
1530And finde swich unthrifty weyes newe;
But afterward, ful sore it wol us rewe.
And help me god so at my moste nede
As causeles ye suffren al this drede!

`For thilke day that I for cherisshinge
1535Or drede of fader, or of other wight,
Or for estat, delyt, or for weddinge,
Be fals to yow, my Troilus, my knight,
Saturnes doughter, Juno, thorugh hir might,
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
1540Eternaly in Stix, the put of helle!

`And this on every god celestial
I swere it yow; and eek on ech goddesse,
On every Nymphe and deite infernal,
On Satiry and Fauny more and lesse,
1545That halve goddes been of wildernesse;
And Attropos my threed of lyf to-breste
If I be fals; now trowe me if thow leste!

`And thou, Simoys, that as an arwe clere
Thorugh Troye rennest ay downward to the see,
1550Ber witnesse of this word that seyd is here,
That thilke day that ich untrewe be
To Troilus, myn owene herte free,
That thou retorne bakwarde to thy welle,
And I with body and soule sinke in helle!

1555`But that ye speke, awey thus for to go
And leten alle your freendes, God forbede,
For any womman, that ye sholden so,
And namely, syn Troye hath now swich nede
Of help; and eek of o thing taketh hede,
1560If this were wist, my lif laye in balaunce,
And your honour; God shilde us fro meschaunce!

`And if so be that pees her-after take,
As alday happeth, after anger, game,
Why, lord! The sorwe and wo ye wolden make,
1565That ye ne dorste come ayein for shame!
And er that ye juparten so your name,
Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare;
For hasty man ne wanteth never care.

`What trowe ye the peple eek al aboute
1570Wolde of it seye? It is ful light to arede.
They wolden seye, and swere it, out of doute,
That love ne droof yow nought to doon this dede,
But lust voluptuous and coward drede.
Thus were al lost, y-wis, myn herte dere,
1575Your honour, which that now shyneth so clere.

`And also thenketh on myn honestee,
That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,
And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,
If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.
1580Ne though I livede unto the worldes ende,
My name sholde I never ayeinward winne;
Thus were I lost, and that were routhe and synne.

`And for-thy slee with reson al this hete;
Men seyn, "The suffraunt overcometh," pardee;
1585Eek "Whoso wol han leef, he lief mot lete;"
Thus maketh vertue of necessitee
By pacience, and thenk that lord is he
Of fortune ay, that nought wol of hir recche;
And she ne daunteth no wight but a wrecche.

1590`And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete,
Er Phebus suster, Lucina the shene,
The Leoun passe out of this Ariete,
I wol ben here, withouten any wene.
I mene, as helpe me Juno, hevenes quene,
1595The tenthe day, but-if that deeth me assayle,
I wol yow seen withouten any fayle.'

`And now, so this be sooth,' quod Troilus,
`I shal wel suffre unto the tenthe day,
Syn that I see that nede it moot be thus.
1600But, for the love of God, if it be may,
So lat us stele prively away;
For ever in oon, as for to live in reste,
Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste.'

`O mercy, god, what lyf is this?' quod she;
1605`Allas, ye slee me thus for verray tene!
I see wel now that ye mistrusten me;
For by your wordes it is wel ysene.
Now, for the love of Cynthia the shene,
Mistrust me not thus causeles, for routhe;
1610Syn to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe.

`And thenketh wel, that som tyme it is wit
To spende a tyme, a tyme for to winne;
Ne, pardee, lorn am I nought fro yow yit,
Though that we been a day or two atwynne.
1615Dryf out the fantasyes yow withinne;
And trusteth me, and leveth eek your sorwe,
Or here my trouthe, I wol not live til morwe.

`For if ye wiste how sore it dooth me smerte,
Ye wolde cesse of this; for God, thou woost,
1620The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte,
To see yow wepen that I love most,
And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost.
Ye, nere it that I wiste remedye
To come ayein, right here I wolde dye!

1625`But certes, I am not so nyce a wight
That I ne can imaginen a wey
To come ayein that day that I have hight.
For who may holde thing that wol a-way?
My fader nought, for al his queynte pley.
1630And by my thrift, my wending out of Troye
Another day shal torne us alle to joye.

`For-thy, with al myn herte I yow biseke,
If that yow list don ought for my preyere,
And for the love which that I love yow eke,
1635That er that I departe fro yow here,
That of so good a comfort and a chere
I may you seen, that ye may bringe at reste
Myn herte, which that is at point to breste.

`And over al this I pray yow,' quod she tho,
1640`Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce,
Syn I am thyn al hool, withouten mo,
That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunce
Of othere do me fro your remembraunce.
For I am ever agast, for-why men rede,
1645That "love is thing ay ful of bisy drede."

`For in this world ther liveth lady noon,
If that ye were untrewe, as God defende!
That so bitraysed were or wo bigoon
As I, that alle trouthe in yow entende.
1650And douteles, if that ich other wende,
I nere but deed; and er ye cause finde,
For Goddes love, so beth me not unkinde.'

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 1653-1701:
The day of their separation comes near