Troilus and Criseyde Part 31

And graunte it that ye sone up-on me rewe As wisly as in al I am yow trewe. 1365

'And if yow lyketh knowen of the fare Of me, whos wo ther may no wight discryve, I can no more but, cheste of every care, At wrytinge of this lettre I was on-lyve, Al redy out my woful gost to dryve; 1370 Which I delaye, and holde him yet in honde, Upon the sight of matere of your sonde.

'Myn eyen two, in veyn with which I see, Of sorweful teres salte arn waxen welles; My song, in pleynte of myn adversitee; 1375 My good, in harm; myn ese eek waxen h.e.l.le is.

My Ioye, in wo; I can sey yow nought elles, But turned is, for which my lyf I warie, Everich Ioye or ese in his contrarie.

'Which with your cominge hoom ayein to Troye 1380 Ye may redresse, and, more a thousand sythe Than ever ich hadde, encressen in me Ioye.

For was ther never herte yet so blythe To han his lyf, as I shal been as swythe As I yow see; and, though no maner routhe 1385 Commeve yow, yet thinketh on your trouthe.

'And if so be my gilt hath deeth deserved, Or if yow list no more up-on me see, In guerdon yet of that I have you served, Biseche I yow, myn hertes lady free, 1390 That here-upon ye wolden wryte me, For love of G.o.d, my righte lode-sterre, Ther deeth may make an ende of al my werre.

'If other cause aught doth yow for to dwelle, That with your lettre ye me recomforte; 1395 For though to me your absence is an h.e.l.le, With pacience I wol my wo comporte, And with your lettre of hope I wol desporte.

Now wryteth, swete, and lat me thus not pleyne; With hope, or deeth, delivereth me fro peyne. 1400

'Y-wis, myn owene dere herte trewe, I woot that, whan ye next up-on me see, So lost have I myn hele and eek myn hewe, Criseyde shal nought conne knowe me!

Y-wis, myn hertes day, my lady free, 1405 So thursteth ay myn herte to biholde Your beautee, that my lyf unnethe I holde.

'I sey no more, al have I for to seye To you wel more than I telle may; But whether that ye do me live or deye, 1410 Yet pray I G.o.d, so yeve yow right good day.

And fareth wel, goodly fayre fresshe may, As ye that lyf or deeth me may comaunde; And to your trouthe ay I me recomaunde

'With hele swich that, but ye yeven me 1415 The same hele, I shal noon hele have.

In you lyth, whan yow liste that it so be, The day in which me clothen shal my grave.

In yow my lyf, in yow might for to save Me from disese of alle peynes smerte; 1420 And fare now wel, myn owene swete herte!

Le vostre T.'

This lettre forth was sent un-to Criseyde, Of which hir answere in effect was this; Ful pitously she wroot ayein, and seyde, That also sone as that she might, y-wis, 1425 She wolde come, and mende al that was mis.

And fynally she wroot and seyde him thanne, She wolde come, ye, but she niste whenne.

But in hir lettre made she swich festes, That wonder was, and swereth she loveth him best, 1430 Of which he fond but botmelees bihestes.

But Troilus, thou mayst now, est or west, Pype in an ivy leef, if that thee lest; Thus gooth the world; G.o.d shilde us fro mischaunce, And every wight that meneth trouthe avaunce! 1435

Encresen gan the wo fro day to night Of Troilus, for taryinge of Criseyde; And lessen gan his hope and eek his might, For which al doun he in his bed him leyde; He ne eet, ne dronk, ne sleep, ne word he seyde, 1440 Imagininge ay that she was unkinde; For which wel neigh he wex out of his minde.

This dreem, of which I told have eek biforn, May never come out of his remembraunce; He thoughte ay wel he hadde his lady lorn, 1445 And that Ioves, of his purveyaunce, Him shewed hadde in sleep the signifiaunce Of hir untrouthe and his disaventure, And that the boor was shewed him in figure.

For which he for Sibille his suster sente, 1450 That called was Ca.s.sandre eek al aboute; And al his dreem he tolde hir er he stente, And hir bisoughte a.s.soilen him the doute Of the stronge boor, with tuskes stoute; And fynally, with-inne a litel stounde, 1455 Ca.s.sandre him gan right thus his dreem expounde.

She gan first smyle, and seyde, 'O brother dere, If thou a sooth of this desyrest knowe, Thou most a fewe of olde stories here, To purpos, how that fortune over-throwe 1460 Hath lordes olde; through which, with-inne a throwe, Thou wel this boor shalt knowe, and of what kinde He comen is, as men in bokes finde.

'Diane, which that wrooth was and in ire For Grekes nolde doon hir sacrifyse, 1465 Ne encens up-on hir auter sette a-fyre, She, for that Grekes gonne hir so dispyse, Wrak hir in a wonder cruel wyse.

For with a boor as greet as oxe in stalle She made up frete hir corn and vynes alle. 1470

'To slee this boor was al the contree reysed, A-monges which ther com, this boor to see, A mayde, oon of this world the best y-preysed; And Meleagre, lord of that contree, He lovede so this fresshe mayden free 1475 That with his manhod, er he wolde stente, This boor he slow, and hir the heed he sente;

'Of which, as olde bokes tellen us, Ther roos a contek and a greet envye; And of this lord descended Tydeus 1480 By ligne, or elles olde bokes lye; But how this Meleagre gan to dye Thorugh his moder, wol I yow not telle, For al to long it were for to dwelle.'

[Argument of the 12 Books of Statius' "Thebais"]

a.s.sociat profugum Tideo primus Polimitem; Tidea legatum docet insidiasque secundus; Tercius Hemoniden canit et vates lat.i.tantes; Quartus habet reges ineuntes prelia septem; Mox furie Lenne quinto narratur et anguis; Archimori bustum s.e.xto ludique leguntur; Dat Graios Thebes et vatem septimus vmbria; Octauo cecidit Tideus, spes, vita Pelasgia; Ypomedon nono moritur c.u.m Parthonopeo; Fulmine percussus, decimo Capaneus superatur; Vndecimo sese perimunt per vulnera fratres; Argiuam flentem narrat duodenus et igneum.

She tolde eek how Tydeus, er she stente, 1485 Un-to the stronge citee of Thebes, To cleyme kingdom of the citee, wente, For his felawe, daun Polymites, Of which the brother, daun Ethyocles, Ful wrongfully of Thebes held the strengthe; 1490 This tolde she by proces, al by lengthe.

She tolde eek how Hemonides asterte, Whan Tydeus slough fifty knightes stoute.

She tolde eek al the prophesyes by herte, And how that sevene kinges, with hir route, 1495 Bisegeden the citee al aboute; And of the holy serpent, and the welle, And of the furies, al she gan him telle.

Of Archimoris buryinge and the pleyes, And how Amphiorax fil through the grounde, 1500 How Tydeus was slayn, lord of Argeyes, And how Ypomedoun in litel stounde Was dreynt, and deed Parthonope of wounde; And also how Cappaneus the proude With thonder-dint was slayn, that cryde loude. 1505

She gan eek telle him how that either brother, Ethyocles and Polimyte also, At a scarmyche, eche of hem slough other, And of Argyves wepinge and hir wo; And how the town was brent she tolde eek tho. 1510 And so descendeth doun from gestes olde To Diomede, and thus she spak and tolde.

'This ilke boor bitokneth Diomede, Tydeus sone, that doun descended is Fro Meleagre, that made the boor to blede. 1515 And thy lady, wher-so she be, y-wis, This Diomede hir herte hath, and she his.

Weep if thou wolt, or leef; for, out of doute, This Diomede is inne, and thou art oute.'

'Thou seyst nat sooth,' quod he, 'thou sorceresse, 1520 With al thy false goost of prophesye!

Thou wenest been a greet devyneresse; Now seestow not this fool of fantasye Peyneth hir on ladyes for to lye?

Awey!' quod he. 'Ther Ioves yeve thee sorwe! 1525 Thou shalt be fals, paraunter, yet to-morwe!

'As wel thou mightest lyen on Alceste, That was of creatures, but men lye, That ever weren, kindest and the beste.

For whanne hir housbonde was in Iupartye 1530 To dye him-self, but-if she wolde dye, She chees for him to dye and go to h.e.l.le, And starf anoon, as us the bokes telle.'

Ca.s.sandre goth, and he with cruel herte For-yat his wo, for angre of hir speche; 1535 And from his bed al sodeinly he sterte, As though al hool him hadde y-mad a leche.

And day by day he gan enquere and seche A sooth of this, with al his fulle cure; And thus he dryeth forth his aventure. 1540

Fortune, whiche that permutacioun Of thinges hath, as it is hir committed Through purveyaunce and disposicioun Of heighe Iove, as regnes shal ben flitted Fro folk in folk, or whan they shal ben smitted, 1545 Gan pulle awey the fetheres brighte of Troye Fro day to day, til they ben bare of Ioye.

Among al this, the fyn of the parodie Of Ector gan approchen wonder blyve; The fate wolde his soule sholde unbodie, 1550 And shapen hadde a mene it out to dryve; Ayeins which fate him helpeth not to stryve; But on a day to fighten gan he wende, At which, allas! He coughte his lyves ende.

For which me thinketh every maner wight 1555 That haunteth armes oughte to biwayle The deeth of him that was so n.o.ble a knight; For as he drough a king by thaventayle, Unwar of this, Achilles through the mayle And through the body gan him for to ryve; 1560 And thus this worthy knight was brought of lyve.

For whom, as olde bokes tellen us, Was mad swich wo, that tonge it may not telle; And namely, the sorwe of Troilus, That next him was of worthinesse welle. 1565 And in this wo gan Troilus to dwelle, That, what for sorwe, and love, and for unreste, Ful ofte a day he bad his herte breste.

But natheles, though he gan him dispeyre, And dradde ay that his lady was untrewe, 1570 Yet ay on hir his herte gan repeyre.

And as these loveres doon, he soughte ay newe To gete ayein Criseyde, bright of hewe.

And in his herte he wente hir excusinge, That Calkas causede al hir taryinge. 1575

And ofte tyme he was in purpos grete Him-selven lyk a pilgrim to disgyse, To seen hir; but he may not contrefete To been unknowen of folk that weren wyse, Ne finde excuse aright that may suffyse, 1580 If he among the Grekes knowen were; For which he weep ful ofte many a tere.

To hir he wroot yet ofte tyme al newe Ful pitously, he lefte it nought for slouthe, Biseching hir that, sin that he was trewe, 1585 She wolde come ayein and holde hir trouthe.

For which Criseyde up-on a day, for routhe, I take it so, touchinge al this matere, Wrot him ayein, and seyde as ye may here.

'Cupydes sone, ensample of goodlihede, 1590 O swerd of knighthod, sours of gentilesse!

How might a wight in torment and in drede And helelees, yow sende as yet gladnesse?

I hertelees, I syke, I in distresse; Sin ye with me, nor I with yow may dele, 1595 Yow neither sende ich herte may nor hele.

'Your lettres ful, the papir al y-pleynted, Conceyved hath myn hertes pietee; I have eek seyn with teres al depeynted Your lettre, and how that ye requeren me 1600 To come ayein, which yet ne may not be.

But why, lest that this lettre founden were, No mencioun ne make I now, for fere.

'Grevous to me, G.o.d woot, is your unreste, Your haste, and that, the G.o.ddes ordenaunce, 1605 It semeth not ye take it for the beste.

Nor other thing nis in your remembraunce, As thinketh me, but only your plesaunce.

But beth not wrooth, and that I yow biseche; For that I tarie, is al for wikked speche. 1610