Now lete vs stynt of Troylus a stounde That farith lyke a man that hurt is sore And is somdele of akynge of hys wounde Y lyssed wel but helid no del more And as an esy pacyent the lore Abydyth of hym that goth aboute hys cure And thus be dryuyth forth hys aduenture ¶ Here endeth the first booke ¶ And begynneth the prologe of the secunde booke OWte of thise black wawes for to sayle O wynde the wedir begynneth to clere For in this see the bote hath such trauayle Of my connyng that vnneth I it stere Thys see clepe I the tempestous matere Of dyspeyre that Troylus was ynne For now of hope the kalendis begynne O lady myn that callid art Cleo Thou be my spede fro this furth and my muse To Ryme wel thys booke tyl I haue do Me nedeth here none other art to vse For why to euery louer I me excuse That of no sentement I thys endyte But out of latyn in to my tunge I wryte Wherfor I wyl haue neyther thank ne blame Of al thys werk but prey yow mekely Dysblameth me yf ony word be lame For as myn auctour sayth so sey I Eke though I speke of loue vnfelyngly No wonder is for it of thyng now new is A blynd man can not wel Iuge in hewis I know eke that in forme of speche is chauÌ„ge Wythyn a thousand yere of wordis tho That hadden pryâ—â— ben now nyce and straunge Vs thynketh hem and yit they spack hem so And sped as wel in loue as men now do Eke for to wynne loue in sondry ages An sondry â—ondes sondry ben vsages And for thy yf it hap in ony wyse That ther be ony louer in thys place That herkenyth as the story can deuyse How Troylus come to hys lady grace And thynkith sâ— nold I loue purchase Or wondryth on hys speche or doyng I not but vnto me it is no wondryng For euery wyght whyche that to rome went Holt not oo path ne alway oo manere Eke in somÌ„e bond were al the game y shent Yf they ferd in loue as men don here As thus in open doyng and in chere In vysityng in forme or sayd our sawes For why men seyn eche contre hath hys lawes Eke scarsly be ther in thys place thre That haue in loue seyd lyke and don al For to thy purpos thys may lyke the And the ryght nought yit al is sayd shal Eke som men graue in the stone wal As it betyd but sith I haue bygonne Myn auctor shal I folowe yf that I conne ¶ Here endeth the prologe ¶ And here begynneth the seconde booke IN may that modir is of monethis glade That fressh flowris blew whet trede Ben quykened ageyn that wiÌ„ert deed made And ful of baume is fletyng euery mede Whan phebus doth hys bryght beames spaede Ryght in the whyte boole it is betyd As I shal syng on Mayes day the thryd That pandarus for al hys wyse speche Felt eke hys part of loues 〈◊〉 beene That cowde he neuer so wel of louynge preche It made hys hewe sul oft a day greene Shoope hym that day ther fyl hym a trene In loue for whyche to be ded he wente And made or it was day ful many a went The swalow Proigne wyth a sorowful lay Whan morow come made hyr waymentyng Why she forshape was and al the lay Pandare a bed halt in a slombâ—yng Tyl she so nyh hym made her chyâ—â—ryng How Terâ—us gan forth hyr susâ—â—r take That wyth the noyse of hyr he gan awake And gan to calle and dresse hym to ryse Remembryng hym hys â—â—â—nd was to done From Troylus and eke hys grede empryse And case knew in good plice was the mone To do viage and toke hys wey ful soone Vnto hys neas paleys ther besyde Now Ianus god of entre thow hym guyde Whan he was come vnto hys neas place Where is my lady to her folk quod he And they hym told and he forth in gan pace And fond two othyr ladyes sit and she Wythin a paued parlour and they thre Herd hem a mayden redyng the gest Of the siege of thebes whyle hem lest Quod Pandarus madame god yow see Wyth youre booke and al the company Ey vncle now welcom ywis quod she And vs she Ros and by the hond in hy She toke hym fast and sayd thus nyght thry To good mote it turne of yow I mette And with that word she doun on beÌ„che hym sette Ye nece ye shul fare wel the bet Yf god wyl al thys yere quod Pandarus But I am sory that I haue yow let To herken on your booke ye praysen thus For goddys loue what sayth it tel it vs Is it of loue or somÌ„e good thyng ye me lere Vncle quod she your maystres is not here Wyth that they gonne laugh and tho she sayd Thys romance is of Thebes that we rede And we han herd hou that kyng layus deyde Thurgh Edippus hys sone and al that dede And here we stynt at thyse lettres rede How the bysshop as the booke can telle Amphiorax fyl thurgh the ground to helle Quod pandarus al thys knowe I my selue And al the fleges of thebes and the care For herof ben therr bookes made twelue But lete be thys and tel me how ye fare Do way your wympyl shewe your face bare Do way your booke ryse vp lete vs daunce And lete vs do to may somÌ„e obseruaunce Ey god forbede quod she be ye mad Is that a wydewes lyf so god yow saue By god ye maken me ryght sore adrad Ye be so wyeld it semeth as ye raue It sit me wel bet to be in a caue To byd and rede on holy sayntes lyues Late maydens go daunce and yong wyues As euer thryue I quod thyâ— pandarus Yit couthe I 〈◊〉 a thyng to do your â—â—rt 〈◊〉 Now vncle dere quod she telle it ve For goddis loue is than the syege awey I am of the Grrelâ—is so ferd that I dey Nay nay quod 〈◊〉 as euer more I thryue It is a thyng wel bet than such fyue Ye holy god quod she what thyngâ— to that What bet than suche â—yue nay ywys For al thys world ne can I rede what It shal be somÌ„e â—ape I trowe it is And but your self vs crl what it is My wyt to arrde it is al to seene Ao help me god I noâ—â— what ye mene And I your borow ne neuer shal quod â—e Thys thyng be told to yow so most I thryue And why so vncle myn why so quod she By god quod he that wyl I trl as â—lyue For prowder woÌ„man is there none on lyue And ye it wyst in al the â—owne of Troye I lye not so euer haue I Ioye Tho gan she wonder more than byforn A thousand fold doun hyr eyen caste For neuer sith the tyme she was born To knowe a thyng desired she so faste And
brede And al the werk as he gan byhold Ful sodeynly his herte gan to cold As he that on the coler fond within A broche that he Creseyde yafe at morowe That she from Troy must nedes twynne In remembraunce of hym of his sowâ—â—â— And she hym leyde her feyth ageyne to borowe To kepe it but now ful wele he wyst His lady was no lâ—nger for to tryst He goth hym home and than ful soone he sende For Pandarus al this newe chaunce And of his broche he told hym word ende Compleynyng of hyr hertes varyaunce His long loue his trouthe his penaunce And after dethe withoute wordes more Ful fast he cryed his rest hym to restore Than â—pak he thus O lady bryght Creseyde Where is youre feyth where is youre byhest Where is youre loue where is your trouth he seide O Dyomede haue ye now al this fest Alas I wold haue trowed at the lest That syth ye nold trewe to me stonde That thus ye nold haue hold me in honde Who shal now trowe ony othes moo Alas I wold neuer haue wende or this That ye Creseyde couthe haue chaunged so Not but I had a gylt or done amys So cruel wende I not youre herte ywys To slee me thus alas your name of trouthe Is now fordone that is al my reuthe Was there none other froche ye lyst to lete To fese with youre newe leue quod he But thylk broche that I with teres weete Yow yofe as for a remembraunce of me None other cause alas ne hadden ye But for despyte eke for that ye ment Al vtterly to shewe youre entent Thorugh which I see clene out of your mynde Ye haue me cast and I ne can ne may For al this world within myn herte fynde To vnloue yow a quarter of a day In cursyd tyme I borne was wel away That ye that doo me al this woo endure Yet loue I best of ony creature Now god quod he yet send me that grace That I may mete with this Dyomede And trewely yf I haue myght and space Yet shal I make I hope his sydes blede O god quod he that oughtest taken hede To further trouthe wronges to punyce Why nyl thow doo a vengeaunce of this vyce O Pandare that in dremes for to tryst Me blamed hast ofte me vp breyde Now mayst thow see thy self yf that thow list How trewe is now thy nece bryght Creseyde In sondry fourmes god it wote he seyde The goddes shewe bothe ioye tene In slepe and be my dreme it is sene And certeynly withoute more speche Form hens forth as ferforth as I may Myn owne dethe in armes wylle I seche I retche not how soone be the daye But trewely Creseyde swete may Whome I haue ay with al my myght y seruyd That ye thus doo I haue it not deserud This Pandarus that al these thynges herd And wyst we le he sayd a sooth of this He not a word to hym ageyne answerd For sory of his frendes sorowe he is And shamed for his nece had done amys And stood astonyed of these causes twey As stille as stone a word couthe he not not sey But at the last thus he spak seyde My broder dere I may doo the no more What shold I sey I hate ywys Creseyde And god wote I wyl haate hyr euermore And that thou me bysoughtest done of yore Hauyng vnto myn honoure nor to my rest Ryght no reward I deed al that ye left If I dyd ought that myght liken the It is me â—â—ef and of this treson now God wote that it a sorowe is vnto me And dredeles for heates 〈◊〉 of you Right fayn wold I it amende wise I how And too thys world almyghty god I pray Delyuer hyr sone I can no more say Greâ—e was the sorowe the playnte of troâ—luâ— But forth his ceurs of fortune gan to holde 〈◊〉 loueth so the sone of tydeus And twylus 〈◊〉 wepe in cares colde Suche is the world who so can beholde In eche estate is 〈◊〉 hertes reste God lete vâ— take it al for the â—este In many cruel bataylle out of drede Of troylus this ylke noble knyght 〈◊〉 men may in thâ—se olde bookes redâ— Was seen his knyghthode his grete myght And dredeleâ— his yrr day and nyght Ful cruelly the gresâ—yâ— ay abought And alwey most this dâ—â—mâ—de he sought And ofte tyme I fynde that they mette With blody 〈◊〉 with worde a 〈◊〉 Assayâ—ng how then speres weâ—r I wâ—ttâ— And god wotr with 〈◊〉 a cruel 〈◊〉 Can troylus vpon 〈◊〉 to 〈◊〉 But netheles fortune 〈◊〉 not ne wotd Of other hand that eyther dye shold And yf I had taken for to wryte The aâ—nes of thise ylke worthy man Than wold I of his bataylles endyte But for that I to wryte first began Of his loue I haue sayd as I can His worthy dedes who so list hem here Rede dares he can telle hem al in fere Bysechyng euery lady bryght of hewe And euery gentylwoman what she be That al le that Creseyde was vntrewe That for that gylt ye be not wroth with me Ye may hyr gylt in other bookes see And gladlyer I wold wryte yf yow lest Penolopes trouthe and good Alcest Ne I seye not this as only for this men But moost for wymmen that betrayed be Thorugh fals folk god yeue hem sorowe amen That with theyr grete wordes subtylyte Bytrayeth yow this now meueth me To speke in effect al yow I prey Beeth ware of men herken what I sey God lytel book goo lytel Tregedye That god thy maker yet or that I dye So sende me myght to make somme comedye But lytel book make thow none enuye But subget be thou vnto al Poesye And kysse the steppes where as thow seest space Of Vyrgyle Ouyde Homere Lucan stace And for ther is so grete dyuersyte In Englysshe in wrytynge of oure tonge Soo pray to god that none myswryte the Ne the mysmetre for defaute of tonge And red where so thow be or elles songe That thow be vnderstonde god I byseche But yet to purpoos of my rather speche The wrathe as I bygan yow for to seye Of Troylus how the grekes bought dere For thousandys of his handes dyd he deye As he that was withoute ony pere Saue Hector in his tyme as I can here But we le awey sauf only goddes wylle Dyspytously hym slowe the fyers Achylle And when that he was slayn in this manere His lyght goost ful blysfully is went Vnto the holownes of the eyght spere In his place letyng eche element And there he sawe with ful aduysement How he was sloyne alas al to rathe The folke of Troye to moche harme skathe And doune from thens fyrst he gan aduyse This lytel spot of erthe that with the see Enbracyd is fully gan despyse This wretchyd world helde it vanyte To respect of that playne felycyte That is in heuene aboue at the last There he was slayn his lokyng doune he case And in hym self he lâ—ugh ryght at the woo On hem that wepen for his deth so fast And dampnen al oure werkes that folowen so The blynde lust whiche that may not last And shold al oure hertes to heuene cast Now forth he went shortely for to telle There as Mercurye sortyd hym to dwelle Suche fyne hath loo this Troylus for loue Suche fyne his loue suche fyne his noblesse Suche fyne hath his estate ryal aboue Suche fyne hath fals worldes trotylnesse Suche fyne hath al his grete worthynesse And thus bygan his louyng of Creseyde As I haue told and in this wyse he deyde O yong fresshe folkes he or she In which that loue vp growyth with your age Repayreth home from worldly vanyte And of youre herte vp casteth the vysage To thylk lord that after his ymage Yow made and thynketh al is but a fayre This world that passyth sone as â—â—â—ures faire And louyth hym whiche that ryght for loue Vpon a crosse oure soules for to beye Fyrst starf roose syth in heuene aboue For he wyl fals no wyght dare I seye That wyl his herte al holy on hym leye And soothe he best is to loue and moost meke What nedeth feyned loue here for to seke Loo here of Paynems cursyd old rytes Loo here what al theyr goddes may auayle Loo here these worldes wretchyd appetytes Loo here the fyne guerdon for trauayle Of Ioue Appollo of mars suche rascayle Loo here the forme of old clerkes speche In poetrye yf ye theyr bookes seche O moral Gower this book I dyrect To the and to the Phylosophycal Strode To vouchesauf there nede is to correct And of youre benyngnytees and zelys goode And to that sothfast Crist that starf on roode With al myn herte of mercy I prey And to the lorde ryght thus I speke seye Thou one and twoo and thre eterne a lyuâ— That regnest ay in thre twoo and one Incircumscript al mayst circumscryue Vs from vysyble and Inuysyble foon Defende to thy mercy euerychone So make vs Ihesu for thy mercy dygne For loue of mayden moder thyn benyngne Here endeth Troylus as touchyng Creseyde Explicit per Caxton
lyst is blent The fyers Mars to apesyn of hys Ire And as ye lyst me make hertis dygne Algatis hem that ye wyl sette a fyre That dreden shame and vyces yit resigne Ye to hem curteys fressh be and benygne And hem promotith aftyr a wyght entendyth The Ioye that he hath your myght hym fendyth Ye holdyn regne and hous in vnyte The sothfast cause and frendshyp be also Ye know all thylk couered qualyte Of thynges whiche that folkes wondren on so That they can not constrewe how it may geo She louyth hym or why loueth he not here Or why this fissh not that comyth to the were The folke a lawe han sette in vniuers And thys know I by theym that louers be That who so striuyth with yow hath the wers Now lady bryght for thy benygnyte At reuerence of hem that seruen the Who 's clerk I am teche me deuyse SomÌ„e Ioye of that is felt in thy seruyse Ye in my naked hertis sentement In elde and do me shewe of thy wytnesse Caliope thy dayes ben now present For now is nede seest thon not my dystresse How I must telle anon right the gladnesse Of Troylus to venus heryeng To which gladnesse who nede hath god hym bryng ¶ Here endeth the prologe ¶ And here begynneth the thyrde booke LAy al thys mene whyle Troylus Recordyng hys lesson in thys manere Mafey thought he thus wil I sey thus Thus wyl I pleyne vnto my lady dere That word is good that shal be my matere Thys wyl I not for geten in no wyse God lyeue he werke as he gan deuyse And lord so hys hert gan tho to whappe Heryng hyr come and sore for to syke And Pandarus that lad hyr by the lappe Come nere and gan in at the curteyn pyke And sayd god do bote on al sike See who is here yow comyn to vysite Lo here is she that is yowre deth to wyte Therwyth it semed that he wept almost A ha god quod Troylus so sorowfully Wher me be woo o myghte god thou wost Who is al there I see not trewly Syr quod Criseyde it is Pandare and I Ye swete hert Alas I may not ryse To knele and do yow honour in somÌ„e wyse And dressid hym vpward and she ryght tho Bygan hyr handis soft vpon hym leye O for the loue of god do ye not so To me quod she what is thys to seye Syr come 〈◊〉 I to yow for causes tweye Fyrst yow to thank of yowre good lorshyp eke Contynuaunce therof I yow byseke Troylus that herd thus hys lady praye Of lordshyp hym was nother quyck ne dede Ne myght one word for shame to hyr seye And though men shuld haue smyte of his hed But lord so he was sodaynly rede And hys lesson that he wend had conne To pray hyr was thurgh hys hert y ronne Criseyde al thys espyed wel ynowgh For she was wyse louyd hym neuer the lasse Al though he were not malaê‘t made it towgh Or was to bold to syng a foole a masse But whan his shame bygan somwhat to passe Hys wordis as I may my rymes hold I wyl yow tellen as techen bokes old In chaungyd voyce right for hys lady drede Whyche voyce eke quoke therto hys manere Goodely abasshyd and now hys hyewes rede Now pale vnto Criseyde hys lady dere Wyth looke doun cest and humble lowly chere Lo altherfyrst word that hym astert Was twyes mercy mercy swete hert And stynt a while whan he myght out bryng The next word was god wote for I haue As ferforth as I haue had connynge Be yowres all so god my soule saue And shal tyl that I woful wyght be graue And though I ne dare ne can to yow compleyne Y wys I suffre not the lasse peyne Thus moche as now o wommanly wyf I may out bryng and yf it yow dysplease That shal I wreke vpon myn owne lyf Ryght soone I trowe and do yowre hert and ease If wyth my deth yowre hert may apease For sith ye haue me herd somwhat seye Now retche I neuer how soone that I deye Therwyth hys manly sorow to byhold It myght hath made an hert of stone to rewe And Pandare wept as he to water wold And seyd wo begon ben hertis trewe And prokid euer hys neece newe and newe For loue of god make of thys thyng an ende Or slee vs both at ones or we hens wende Ey what quod she by god and by my trowth I wote not what ye wold that I sey I what quod he that ye haue of hym rowth For goddis loue and do hym not to dey Now than quod she thus I wold hym prey To telle me the fyne of hys entent Yit wyst I neuer wel what he ment What that I meane o swete hert dere Quod Troylus o goodely fressh fre Wyth the streames of youre eyen clere Ye wold frendly somtyme on me see And that ye suffre that I neuer be he Wythout braunche of vyce in ony wyse Yow for to serue lyke as ye wyl deuyse As to my lady ryght and chyef resort And al my wytte and al my dylygence And I to haue ryght as yow lyst comfort Vndyr your yerd egal to myn offence As deth ye yf I do ony offence And that ye lyst me somoche honoure Me to coumaunde ought in ony houre And I to be yowre veray humble trewe Secret and in my paynes pacyent And euermore desire fresshly newe To serue and be y lyke dylygent And wyth good hert al holy yowre talent Receyue in gree how sore tht me smert Lo thus meane I myn owne swete hert Quod Pandarus lo here an hard request And resonably a lady for to werne Now neece myn by natal Iouis fest Were I a god ye shuld sterue as yerne That heren wel thys man nothynge yerne But yowre honour and see hym almost sterue And be so loth to suffre hym yow to serue Wyth that she gan hyr eyen on hym cast Ful esily and ful debonayrly Auysyng hyr and hyed her not to fast Wyth neuer a word but sayd hym sobyrby Myn honour sauf I wyl wel trewly And in suche fourme as ye conne deuyse Receyuen hym fully to my seruyse Besechyng hym for goddis loue that he Wold in honour trowth and gentylnesse As I welâ— meane eke meane he wel to me And myn honour wyth al besynesse Ay kepe yf I may do hym gladnesse From hensforth ywys I wyl not feyne Now beth al hole no lenger that ye pleyne But natheles thys warne I yow quod she A kynges sone though ye be ywys Ye shul nomore haue souemynte Of me in loue right but as in that cas is Ne I nyl forbere yf ye don amys To wrath yow and whyle ye me serue Cherissh yow right after yow deserue And shortly dere hert and al my knyght Beth glad and drawe yow to lustynesse And I shal trewly wyth al my myght Yowre bytter torne al in
ende so As floodes that so fresshly they ne growyn To drenche the erthe and al for euermo And yf that loue ought let hys brydel go And that now lyuyth a sundre shold kepe And lost were al that loue now holt to hepe So wold god that auctours of kynd That wyth hys bond of loue of hys vertu lyst So serchen hertis al and fast bynd That from his bond no wight out the wey wyst And hertis cold hem wold I that he twyst To make hem loue and that hem lyst ay rewe On hertis sore and kepe hem that ben trewe In al needis for the townes werre He was and ay fyrst in hys armes dyght And certeynly but yf that bookes erre Saue Hector most dred of ony wyght And thys encres of hardynes and myght Come hym of loue hys lady for to wynne That alterid hys spyrit so wythynne And most of vertu and loue was hys speche And in dyspyte had all wretchydnesse And douteles no neede was hym beseche To honour hem that haddyn worthynesse And â—asen hem that were in dystresse And glad was yf ony wyght wele ferd That louer was whan he it wyst and herd Forsooth to seyn â—e losteâ— held euery wyght But yf he were in loues hye seruyse I meane folkes that ought be by ryght And ouer al thys so we le cowde he deuyse Of sentement and in so vncowth wyse Al hys aâ—â—y that euery louer thought That al was we le what so he sayd or wrought And al though he come of blood â—oyal Hym lyse not of pryde at no wyght to chace Benygne he was to eche in general For whycâ—â— he gaâ—e hym help in euery place â—â—us wold loue y heryed be hys grace That pryde and Ire enuye and auaryer He gan to flee and many another vyâ—â— Thou lady bryght doughtyr to Dione Thy blynd and wynged soone dan Cupide Yowre sustâ—yn eke that â—y Eâ—oone In hyst Pernaso lysten for to abyde That ye thus ferre haue deyned me to guyde I can nomore but sith that ye wyl wende Y heryed be ye for ay wythouten end In tyme of tryews on lâ—wkynge wold be ride Or ellis hunt Bore Bere or Lyoun The smale besâ—is lete he go beside And whan that he come rydyng to the town Ful oft hys lady from the wyndow doun As fressh as fawâ—â—n comyth out of mewe Ful redy was hym goodely to salewe Now haue I yow sayde fully in my song Theffect and Ioye of Troylus seruyse Al be that ther was somÌ„e dysease among As myn auctour lystyth to deuyse My thryd booke now ende I in thys wyse And Troylus in lust and in quyete Is wyth Criseyde hys owne lady swete Here Endeth the thyrde Booke And foloweth the Fourth Booke Here endeth the thyrd book of Troylus And here begynneth the prolog of the fourth book bVt al to lytel wel awey the whyle Lastyth suche ioye blyssed he fortune That semeth trewest whan she doth begyle And can to fooles so hyr song entune That she doeth hent blent as traitour comune And when a wyght is from hir whele I throw Than laughyth she maketh hym a mowe From Troylus gan she hyr bryght face Awey to wrye took of hym none hede But cast hym clene al oute of hyr grace And on hyr whele she set vp Dyomede For whiche ryght now myn hert gynneth blede And now my penne alas with whiche I write Qnaketh for drede of that I must endyte For how Creseyde Troylus forsoke Or at the lest how that she was vnkynde Mote be hens forth mater of my book As wryten folk thurgh whiche it is in mynd Alas that euer she shold cause fynde To speke hyr harm yf they on hyr lye Ywys hem self shal haue the vylonye O ye Herynes nyghtes doughters thre That endeles compleyne euer in peyne Megera Allecto and eke Thesyphone Thou cruel mars eke fader to Quyryne This ylk fourth book helpe me to fyne Soo that the loos loue and lyf y fere Of Troylus be fully shewed here Here endeth the prologe And begynneth the fourth book lYggyng in hoost as I haue told 〈◊〉 this The grekes strong about Troy toun Befel that when phebus gan shyne ywis Vpon the brest of hercules lyoun That Hector with ful many a bold baroun Cast on a day with grekes for to fyght As he was wonte to greue hem yf he myght Note I how long or short it was bytwene This purpoos that day they fyght ment But on a day wel bryght sheene With spere in hond bygge bowes bent Hector many a worthy knyght oute went And in the berde anone withouten let Her foomen in the feld hem fast met The long day with speres sharp y ground With arrwes dartes swerdes maces felle They fyght bryng hors man to ground And with theyr axes oute the braynes quelle But in the last shoure forth for to telle The folk of Troye hem self so mysleddeâ— That with the wors hoÌ„ward at nyÈt they fleddâ—â— At whiche day was taken Anthen 〈…〉 Maugre Pollymydas or Monâ—sryo Xandype Sarpedon Palestynâ—â—e Polyte or eke the Troyan Ryâ—â—â—o And other lasse folk as Phebuseo Soo that for harm that day the folk of Troye Dirdden to leefe a grete part of theyr ioye But netheles a trewes was ther take At grekes request and tho they gan treate Of prysoners a chaunge for to make This thyng anone was couth in euery strete And for the surplus youen sommes grete Bothe in the syege Towne euery where And with the fyrst it cam to Calcas ere When Calcas knewe the treatys shold hold In concystory among grekes sone He gan in thryng forth with lordes old And set hym there as he was wonte to done And with theyr chaungyng he had hem a bone For loue of god to do that reuerence To stynt noyse yeue hym audyence Than sayd he thus loo lordes myn I was Troian as it is knowe oute of drede And yf ye remembre I am Calcas That alther fyrst yaf comfort to youre nede And told wele how ye shold spede For dredeles thurgh yow shalle in a sconde This Troye be brent drawen doun to grounde And in what fourme in what maner wyse This toune to shende al youre lust to achâ—ue Ye haue or thys me herd wel deuyse This knowen ye my lordes as I leue And for the grekes were me so leue I come my self in my proper persone To teche in this what ye were best to done Hauyng vpon my tresour ne my rent Ryght no respect to respect of youre case Thus al my good I lefte to yow went Wenyng in this my lordes yow to plese But al this losse doth me no dysese I vouchesauf as wysely haue I ioye For yow to lese al that I haue in Troye Sauf of a doughter that I left alas Slepyng at home when oute of Troye I stert O sterne cruel fader that I was How myght I haue
mystrusten me For by youre wordes it is we le y seen Now for the loue of Sathya the shene Mystrust me not thus causeles for routhe Sith to be trewe I haue plyght yow my trouth And thynketh wele that somtyme it is wyt To spende a tyme ryght for to wynne Ne parde lorn am I not from yow yet Though we be a day or twoo a twynne Dryue oute the fantasyes yow withynne And trusâ—yth me leuyth eke youre sorowe Or here my trouthe I wyl not lyue to morowe For yf ye wyst how sore it dothe me smert Ye wold cease of this for god thou wost The poure spyryte weyyth in my hert To see yow wepe that I loue moost And that I mote goo to the grekes hoost Ye nere that I wyst a remedye To come ageyne ryght here wold I dye But certes I nam not so nyce a wyght That I ne can wel ymagyne a weye To come ageyne that day that I haue hyght For who may holde a thyng that wol aweye My fader nought for al this queynt pleye And by my thryft my wendyng oute of Troye Another day shall â—orne vs al to ioye For thy with al myn herte I yow byseke If that ye lyst doo ought for my prayere And for that loue whiche I loue yow eke That or I departe from yow here That of soo good comfort chyere I may yow see that I may brynge at rest Myn hert whiche that is in peynt to brest And ouer al this I pray yow quod she tho Myn owne hertes sothfast suffysaunce Syth I am thyne al hole withouten mo The whyle that I am absent that no plesaunce Of other do me from youre remembraunce For why I am euer agast for why men rede Loue is thyn ay ful of besy drede For in this world there lyueth lady none If that ye were vntrewe as god defende That so betrayed were or woo bygone And I that al trouthe in yow entende And doutâ—les yf that I other wende I nere but dede or ye can so fynde For goddes loue so leth not to me vnkynde To this answerd Troylus seyde Now god to whome there is no cause y wry Me glad as wys I neuer to Creseyde Syth thylk day I sawe hyr fyrst with eye Was fals ne neuer shal tyl that I dye At short wordes wele ye may me leue I can no more it shal be found at pâ—â—ue Gromercy good hert myn quod she And blysful Venus lete me neuer sterue Or I may stonde in plesaunce of â—gree To quyte hym wele that so wele can deseruâ— And whyle that god my wyt wyl me coÌ„serue I shal so done so trewe I haue yow founde That ay honoure to me ward shal rebounde For truseyth wele that youre estate royal No vayne delytâ— nor only worthynesse Of yow in werre ne tourney marcyal Nor pompâ— array nobley or eke Rychesse Ne made me to rewe vpon youre dystresse But moral vertu groundyd vpon trouthe That was the cause I had fyrst on yow routhe Eke gentyl hert and manhoode that ye had And that ye had as me thynketh in despyte Euery thyng that sownedâ— in to bad As rudeuesse and peoplyssâ—e appetyte And that youre reason brydled youre delyte This made me aboue euery creature That I was youre shal whyle I may dure And this may lengthe of yeres not for doo Ne remuable fortune deface But Iupyter that of his myght may doo Ye sorowful to be glad soo yeue vs grace Or nyghtes ten to meten in this place Soo that it may myn hert youre suffyse And fare ye we le tyme is that ye ryse But after that they loue pleyned had And I liyst and streyt in armes fold The day gan ryse and Troylus hym clad And rewfully his lady gan byhold As he that felt dethes trâ—es cold And to hyr grace he gan hym recomaunde Whether he was woo thus hold I no demauÌ„de For mannes hede ymagyne ne can Ne nen tendement consydere ne tonge telle The cruel peynes of this woful man That passyn euery torment doun in helle For when he sawe she myght not dwelle Whiche that his sowle oute of his hert rent Withoute more he oute of the chambre went Here endyth the Fourth booke And begynneth the Fyfthe aProchen gan the fatal day of destyne That Iouis hath in his dysposycyon And to you angry parcas sustreÌ„ thre Commytted to doo anone execucyon For whiche Creseyde must oute of the toune And Troylus shal dwelle forth in pyne Tyl lachesys his threde no lenger twyne The gold tressyd Phebus hye on loft Shyned had with his beames clere The snowes molt Zephyrus as oft Yâ— brought ageyne the lusty leues grene Syth that the sone of Heccuba the quene Bygan to loue hyr fyrst for whome his sorow Was al that she depart shold a morow Ful redy was at pryme Dyomede Creseyde vnto the grekes hoost to lede For sorowe of whiche she felt hyr hert blede As she that nyst what was best to rede And trewely as men in bokes rede Men wyst neuer woman haue more care Ne was so loth oute of a towne to fare This Troylus withoute rede or lore As a man that hath his ioyes eke forlore Was waytyng on his lady euermore As she that the sothfast crop more Of al his lust or ioyes here bifore But Troylus now fare wele al thy ioys For shalt thou neuer see hyr eft in Troys Sothe is whyle that he bode in this manere He gan his woo ful manly for to hyde That wele vnnethe it seen was in his chere But at the yate there she shold oute ryde With certeyne folk he houyd hyr to byde So woo bygo al wold he not compleyne That on his hors vnnethe he sat for peyne For Ire he quoke so gan his hert gnawe When Dyomede on hors hym gan dresse And sayd to hym self this ylk sawe Alas quod he thus fowle wretchydnesse Why suffre I it why nyl I it redresse Were it not bet at ones for to dye Than euermore in langoure thus for to drye Why nyl I make at ones ryche poure To haue ynough to doo or that she go Why nyl I brynge al Troye in Roure Why nyl I slee this Dyomede also Why nyl I rather with a man or two Stele hyr awey why wil I thus endure Why nyl I help to myn owne cure But why he nold doo so fel a deede That shal I sey why he lyst to spare He had in herte alwey a maner drede Lest that Creseyde in rumour of this fare Shold haue ben slayn lo thus was al his care And elles certeyn as I saide ore He had it done withoute wordes more Creseide when she redy was to ride Ful sorowfully she sighte saide alas But forth she mote for ought that may betide There nys none other remedye in this caas And forth she rode ful sorowfully a paas What wonder is though hir sore smert When she forgoth hir owne