From Geoffrey Chaucer's "Troilus and Criseyde", Book III, lines 113-154

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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 50-112:
Pandarus and Criseyde enter Troilus' room

Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book III, lines 113-154: Troilus declares his love for Criseyde

	Therwith his manly sorwe to biholde,
	It mighte han maad an herte of stoon to rewe;
115	And Pandare weep as he to watre wolde,
	And poked ever his nece newe and newe,
	And seyde, `Wo bigon ben hertes trewe!
	For love of God, make of this thing an ende,
	Or slee us bothe at ones, er that ye wende.'

120 `I? What?' quod she, `By God and by my trouthe,

I noot nought what ye wilne that I seye.'

`I? What?' quod he, `That ye han on him routhe,

For Goddes love, and dooth him nought to deye.'

`Now thanne thus,' quod she, `I wolde him preye

125 To telle me the fyn of his entente;

Yet wist I never wel what that he mente.'

`What that I mene, O swete herte dere?'

Quod Troilus, `O goodly, fresshe free!

That, with the stremes of your eyen clere,

130 Ye wolde somtyme freendly on me see,

And thanne agreen that I may ben he,

Withouten braunche of vyce on any wyse,

In trouthe alwey to doon yow my servyse,

`As to my lady right and chief resort,

135 With al my wit and al my diligence,

And I to han, right as yow list, comfort,

Under your yerde, egal to myn offence,

As deeth, if that I breke your defence;

And that ye deigne me so muche honoure,

140 Me to comaunden ought in any houre.

`And I to ben your verray humble trewe,

Secret, and in my paynes pacient,

And ever-mo desire freshly newe,

To serven, and been ylyke ay diligent,

145 And, with good herte, al holly your talent

Receyven wel, how sore that me smerte,

Lo, this mene I, myn owene swete herte.'

Quod Pandarus, `Lo, here an hard request,

And resonable, a lady for to werne!

150 Now, nece myn, by natal Joves feste,

Were I a God, ye sholde sterve as yerne,

That heren wel, this man wol nothing yerne

But your honour, and seen him almost sterve,

And been so looth to suffren him yow serve.'

Next:
From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 155-203:
Criseyde declares her love to Troilus

120	`I? What?' quod she, `By God and by my trouthe,
	I noot nought what ye wilne that I seye.'
	`I? What?' quod he, `That ye han on him routhe,
	For Goddes love, and dooth him nought to deye.'
	`Now thanne thus,' quod she, `I wolde him preye
125	To telle me the fyn of his entente;
	Yet wist I never wel what that he mente.'

	`What that I mene, O swete herte dere?'
	Quod Troilus, `O goodly, fresshe free!
	That, with the stremes of your eyen clere,
130	Ye wolde somtyme freendly on me see,
	And thanne agreen that I may ben he,
	Withouten braunche of vyce on any wyse,
	In trouthe alwey to doon yow my servyse,

	`As to my lady right and chief resort,
135	With al my wit and al my diligence,
	And I to han, right as yow list, comfort,
	Under your yerde, egal to myn offence,
	As deeth, if that I breke your defence;
	And that ye deigne me so muche honoure,
140	Me to comaunden ought in any houre.

	`And I to ben your verray humble trewe,
	Secret, and in my paynes pacient,
	And ever-mo desire freshly newe,
	To serven, and been ylyke ay diligent,
145	And, with good herte, al holly your talent
	Receyven wel, how sore that me smerte,
	Lo, this mene I, myn owene swete herte.'

	Quod Pandarus, `Lo, here an hard request,
	And resonable, a lady for to werne!
150	Now, nece myn, by natal Joves feste,
	Were I a God, ye sholde sterve as yerne,
	That heren wel, this man wol nothing yerne
	But your honour, and seen him almost sterve,
	And been so looth to suffren him yow serve.'