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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 204-343:
Pandarus lectures Troilus about how to treat his niece Criseyde
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book III, lines 344-420: Troilus offers one of his sisters in return


Who mighte telle half the joye or feste
345Which that the soule of Troilus tho felte,
Heringe the effect of Pandarus biheste?
His olde wo, that made his herte swelte,
Gan tho for joye wasten and tomelte,
And al the richesse of his sykes sore
350At ones fledde, he felte of hem no more.

But right so as these holtes and these hayes,
That han in winter dede been and dreye,
Revesten hem in grene, whan that May is,
Whan every lusty lyketh best to pleye;
355Right in that selve wyse, sooth to seye,
Wax sodeynliche his herte ful of joye,
That gladder was ther never man in Troye.

And gan his look on Pandarus up caste
Ful sobrely, and frendly for to see,
360And seyde, `Freend, in Aprille the laste,
As wel thou woost, if it remembre thee,
How neigh the deeth for wo thou founde me;
And how thou didest al thy bisinesse
To knowe of me the cause of my distresse.

365`Thou wost how longe I it for-bar to seye
To thee, that art the man that I best triste;
And peril was it noon to thee biwreye,
That wiste I wel; but tel me, if thee liste,
Sith I so looth was that thyself it wiste,
370How dorst I mo tellen of this matere,
That quake now, and no wight may us here?

`But natheles, by that God I thee swere,
That, as him list, may al this world governe,
And, if I lye, Achilles with his spere
375Myn herte cleve, al were my lyf eterne,
As I am mortal, if I late or yerne
Wolde it biwreye, or dorste, or sholde conne,
For al the good that God made under sonne;

`That rather deye I wolde, and determyne,
380As thinketh me, now stokked in presoun,
In wrecchednesse, in filthe, and in vermyne,
Caytif to cruel king Agamenoun;
And this, in alle the temples of this toun
Upon the goddes alle, I wol thee swere,
385Tomorwe day, if that thee lyketh here.

`And that thou hast so muche ydoon for me,
That I ne may it never more deserve,
This knowe I wel, al mighte I now for thee
A thousand tymes on a morwen sterve.
390I can no more, but that I wol thee serve
Right as thy sclave, whider so thou wende,
For ever more, unto my lyves ende!

`But here, with al myn herte, I thee biseche,
That never in me thou deme swich folye
395As I shal seyn; me thoughte, by thy speche,
That this, which thou me dost for companye,
I sholde wene it were a bauderye;
I am nought wood, al if I lewed be;
It is not so, that woot I wel, pardee.

400`But he that goth, for gold or for richesse,
On swich message, calle him what thee list;
And this that thou dost, calle it gentilesse,
Compassioun, and felawship, and trist;
Departe it so, for wyde-where is wist
405How that there is dyversitee requered
Bitwixen thinges lyke, as I have lered.

`And, that thou knowe I thenke nought ne wene
That this servyse a shame be or jape,
I have my faire suster Polixene,
410Cassandre, Eleyne, or any of the frape;
Be she never so faire or wel yshape,
Tel me, which thou wilt of everichon,
To han for thyn, and lat me thanne allone.

`But, sith that thou hast don me this servyse
415My lyf to save, and for noon hope of mede,
So, for the love of God, this grete empryse
Performe it out; for now is moste nede.
For high and low, withouten any drede,
I wol alwey thyne hestes alle kepe;
420Have now good night, and lat us bothe slepe.'





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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book III, lines 421-483:
Troilus and Criseyde think about each other
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