Previous: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 981-1057: Troilus and Criseyde discuss the meaning of love and jealousy

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1065	This Troilus, whan he hir wordes herde,
	Have ye no care, him liste not to slepe;
	For it thoughte him no strokes of a yerde
	To here or seen Criseyde, his lady wepe;
	But wel he felte aboute his herte crepe,
1070	For every teer which that Criseyde asterte,
	The crampe of deeth, to streyne him by the herte.

	And in his minde he gan the tyme acurse
	That he cam there, and that that he was born;
	For now is wikke turned into worse,
1075	And al that labour he hath doon biforn,
	He wende it lost, he thoughte he nas but lorn.
	`O Pandarus,' thoughte he, `allas! Thy wyle
	Serveth of nought, so weylaway the whyle!'

	And therwithal he heng a-doun the heed,
1080	And fil on knees, and sorwfully he sighte;
	What mighte he seyn? He felte he nas but deed,
	For wrooth was she that shulde his sorwes lighte.
	But nathelees, whan that he speken mighte,
	Than seyde he thus, `God woot, that of this game,
1085	Whan al is wist, than am I not to blame!'

	Ther-with the sorwe so his herte shette,
	That from his eyen fil there not a tere,
	And every spirit his vigour in-knette,
	So they astoned or oppressed were.
1090	The feling of his sorwe, or of his fere,
	Or of ought elles, fled was out of towne;
	And doun he fel al sodeynly a-swowne.

	This was no litel sorwe for to see;
	But al was hust, and Pandare up as faste,
1095	`O nece, pees, or we be lost,' quod he,
	`Beth nought agast;' But certeyn, at the laste,
	For this or that, he in-to bedde him caste,
	And seyde, `O theef, is this a mannes herte?'
	And of he rente al to his bare sherte;

1100	And seyde, `Nece, but ye helpe us now,
	Allas, your owne Troilus is lorn!'
	`Y-wis, so wolde I, and I wiste how,
	Ful fayn,' quod she; `Allas! That I was born!'
	`Ye, nece, wole ye pullen out the thorn
1105	That stiketh in his herte?' quod Pandare;
	`Sey "Al foryeve," and stint is al this fare!'

	`Ye, that to me,' quod she, `ful levere were
	Than al the good the sonne aboute gooth';
	And therwithal she swoor him in his ere,
1110	`Y-wis, my dere herte, I am nought wrooth,
	Have here my trouthe and many another ooth;
	Now speek to me, for it am I, Criseyde!'
	But al for nought; yet mighte he not a-breyde.

	Therwith his pous and pawmes of his hondes
1115	They gan to frote, and wete his temples tweyne,
	And, to deliveren him from bittre bondes,
	She ofte him kiste; and, shortly for to seyne,
	Him to revoken she dide al hir peyne.
	And at the laste, he gan his breeth to drawe,
1120	And of his swough sone after that adawe,

	And gan bet minde and reson to him take,
	But wonder sore he was abayst, ywis.
	And with a syk, whan he gan bet awake,
	He seyde, `O mercy, God, what thing is this?'
1125	`Why do ye with yourselven thus amis?'
	Quod tho Criseyde, `Is this a mannes game?
	What, Troilus! Wol ye do thus, for shame?'

	And therwithal hir arm over him she leyde,
	And al foryaf, and ofte tyme him keste.
1130	He thonked hir, and to hir spak, and seyde
	As fil to purpos for his herte reste.
	And she to that answerde him as hir leste;
	And with hir goodly wordes him disporte
	She gan, and ofte his sorwes to comforte.

1135	Quod Pandarus, `For ought I can espyen,
	This light, nor I ne serven here of nought;
	Light is not good for sike folkes yen.
	But for the love of God, syn ye be brought
	In thus good plit, lat now non hevy thought
1140	Ben hanginge in the hertes of yow tweye:'
	And bar the candele to the chimeneye.

Next: From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 1142-1337: Troilus and Criseyde finally touch each other