Previous: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 736-805: Criseyde pities her situation

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	And fond that she hirselven gan to trete
	Ful pitously; for with hir salte teeris
815	Hir brest, hir face, y-bathed was ful wete;
	The mighty tresses of hir sonnish heeris,
	Unbroyden, hangen al aboute hir eeris;
	Which yaf him verray signal of martyre
	Of deeth, which that hir herte gan desyre.

820	Whan she him saw, she gan for sorwe anoon
	Hir tery face a-twixe hir armes hide,
	For which this Pandare is so wo bi-goon,
	That in the hous he mighte unnethe abyde,
	As he that pitee felte on every syde.
825	For if Criseyde hadde erst compleyned sore,
	Tho gan she pleyne a thousand tymes more.

	And in hir aspre pleynte than she seyde,
	`Pandare first of joyes mo than two
	Was cause causinge unto me, Criseyde,
830	That now transmuwed been in cruel wo.
	Wher shal I seye to yow "wel come" or no,
	That alderfirst me broughte into servyse
	Of love, allas! That endeth in swich wyse?

	`Endeth than love in wo? Ye, or men lyeth!
835	And alle worldly blisse, as thinketh me.
	The ende of blisse ay sorwe it occupyeth;
	And whoso troweth not that it so be,
	Lat him upon me, woful wrecche, y-see,
	That myself hate, and ay my birthe acorse,
840	Felinge alwey, fro wikke I go to worse.

	`Who-so me seeth, he seeth sorwe al at ones,
	Peyne, torment, pleynte, wo, distresse.
	Out of my woful body harm ther noon is,
	As anguish, langour, cruel bitternesse,
845	A-noy, smert, drede, fury, and eek siknesse.
	I trowe, ywis, from hevene teeris reyne,
	For pitee of myn aspre and cruel peyne! '

	`And thou, my suster, ful of discomfort,'
	Quod Pandarus, `what thenkestow to do?
850	Why ne hastow to thyselven som resport,
	Why woltow thus thyselve, allas, for-do?
	Leef al this werk and tak now hede to
	That I shal seyn, and herkne, of good entente,
	This, which by me thy Troilus thee sente.'

855	Torned hir tho Criseyde, a wo makinge
	So greet that it a deeth was for to see: --
	`Allas!' quod she, `what wordes may ye bringe?
	What wol my dere herte seyn to me,
	Which that I drede never-mo to see?
860	Wol he have pleynte or teeris, er I wende?
	I have ynough, if he therafter sende!'

	She was right swich to seen in hir visage
	As is that wight that men on bere binde;
	Hir face, lyk of Paradys the image,
865	Was al ychaunged in another kinde.
	The pleye, the laughtre men was wont to finde
	On hir, and eek hir joyes everychone,
	Ben fled, and thus lyth now Criseyde allone.

	Aboute hir eyen two a purpre ring
870	Bitrent, in sothfast tokninge of hir peyne,
	That to biholde it was a dedly thing,
	For which Pandare mighte not restreyne
	The teeris from his eyen for to reyne.
	But nathelees, as he best mighte, he seyde
875	From Troilus thise wordes to Criseyde.

	`Lo, nece, I trowe ye han herd al how
	The king, with othere lordes, for the beste,
	Hath mad eschaunge of Antenor and yow,
	That cause is of this sorwe and this unreste.
880	But how this cas doth Troilus moleste,
	That may non erthely mannes tonge seye;
	For verray wo his wit is al aweye.

	`For which we han so sorwed, he and I,
	That into litel bothe it hadde us slawe;
885	But thurgh my conseil this day, fynally,
	He somwhat is fro weping now withdrawe.
	And semeth me that he desyreth fawe
	With yow to been al night, for to devyse
	Remede in this, if ther were any wyse.

890	`This, short and pleyne, the effect of my message,
	As ferforth as my wit can comprehende.
	For ye, that been of torment in swich rage,
	May to no long prologe as now entende;
	And herupon ye may answere him sende.
895	And, for the love of God, my nece dere,
	So leef this wo er Troilus be here.'

	`Gret is my wo,' quod she, and sighte sore,
	As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse;
	`But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more,
900	That love him bet than he himself, I gesse.
	Allas! For me hath he swich hevinesse?
	Can he for me so pitously compleyne?
	Y-wis, his sorwe doubleth al my peyne.

	`Grevous to me, God woot, is for to twynne,'
905	Quod she, `but yet it hardere is to me
	To seen that sorwe which that he is inne;
	For wel woot I, it wol my bane be;
	And deye I wol in certayn,' tho quod she;
	`But bidde him come, er deeth, that thus me threteth,
910	Dryve out that goost which in myn herte beteth.'

	Thise wordes seyd, she on hir armes two
	Fil gruf, and gan to wepe pitously.
	Quod Pandarus, `Allas! Why do ye so,
	Syn wel ye woot the tyme is faste by,
915	That he shal come? Arys up hastely,
	That he yow nat biwopen thus ne finde,
	But ye wol have him wood out of his minde!

	`For wiste he that ye ferde in this manere,
	He wolde himselve slee; and if I wende
920	To han this fare, he sholde not come here
	For al the good that Pryam may despende.
	For to what fyn he wolde anoon pretende,
	That knowe I wel; and forthy yet I seye,
	So leef this sorwe, or platly he wol deye.

925	`And shapeth yow his sorwe for to abregge,
	And nought encresse, leve nece swete;
	Beth rather to him cause of flat than egge,
	And with som wysdom ye his sorwes bete.
	What helpeth it to wepen ful a strete,
930	Or though ye bothe in salte teeris dreynte
	Bet is a tyme of cure ay than of pleynte.

	`I mene thus; whan I him hider bringe,
	Syn ye ben wyse, and bothe of oon assent,
	So shapeth how distourbe your goinge,
935	Or come ayen, sone after ye be went.
	Wommen ben wyse in short avysement;
	And lat sen how your wit shal now avayle;
	And what that I may helpe, it shal not fayle.'

	`Go,' quod Criseyde, `and uncle, trewely,
940	I shal don al my might, me to restreyne
	From weping in his sighte, and bisily,
	Him for to glade, I shal don al my peyne,
	And in myn herte seken every veyne;
	If to this soor ther may be founden salve,
945	It shal not lakken, certain, on myn halve.'

Next: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 946-1127: Pandarus urges Troilus to forget Criseyde