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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book II, lines 1597-1708:
Pandarus, Deiphebus and Eleyne see Troilus
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book II, lines 1709-1757: Pandarus asks Criseyde to come with him to see Troilus


Now lat hem rede, and turne we anoon
1710To Pandarus, that gan ful faste prye
That al was wel, and out he gan to goon
Into the grete chambre, and that in hye,
And seyde, `God save al this companye!
Com, nece myn; my lady quene Eleyne
1715Abydeth yow, and eek my lordes tweyne.

`Rys, take with yow your nece Antigone,
Or whom yow list, or no fors, hardily;
The lesse prees, the bet; com forth with me,
And loke that ye thonke humblely
1720Hem alle three, and, whan ye may goodly
Your tyme se, taketh of hem your leve,
Lest we to longe his restes him bireve.'

Al innocent of Pandarus entente,
Quod tho Criseyde, `Go we, uncle dere';
1725And arm in arm inward with him she wente,
Avysed wel hir wordes and hir chere;
And Pandarus, in ernestful manere,
Seyde, `Alle folk, for goddes love, I preye,
Stinteth right here, and softely yow pleye.

1730`Aviseth yow what folk ben here withinne,
And in what plyt oon is, God him amende!
And inward thus ful softely biginne;
Nece, I conjure and heighly yow defende,
On his half, which that sowle us alle sende,
1735And in the vertue of corounes tweyne,
Slee nought this man, that hath for yow this peyne!

`Fy on the devel! Thenk which oon he is,
And in what plyt he lyth; com of anoon;
Thenk al swich taried tyd, but lost it nis!
1740That wol ye bothe seyn, whan ye ben oon.
Secoundelich, ther yet devyneth noon
Up-on yow two; come of now, if ye conne;
Whyl folk is blent, lo, al the tyme is wonne!

`In titering, and pursuite, and delayes,
1745The folk devyne at wagginge of a stree;
And though ye wolde han after merye dayes,
Than dar ye nought, and why? For she, and she
Spak swich a word; thus loked he, and he;
Lest tyme I loste, I dar not with yow dele;
1750Com of therfore, and bringeth him to hele.'

But now to yow, ye lovers that ben here,
Was Troilus nought in a kankedort,
That lay, and mighte whispringe of hem here,
And thoughte, `O lord, right now renneth my sort
1755Fully to dye, or han anoon comfort';
And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preye
Of love; O mighty God, what shal he seye?

Explicit Secundus Liber.



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