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After deliberation, the Trojans decide to exchange Criseyde for Antenor
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book IV, lines 218-336: Troilus pities himself for the decision of the Trojans


Departed out of parlement echone,
This Troilus, withoute wordes mo,
220Unto his chaumbre spedde him faste allone,
But if it were a man of his or two,
The whiche he bad out faste for to go,
Bycause he wolde slepen, as he seyde,
And hastely upon his bed him leyde.

225And as in winter leves been biraft,
Ech after other, til the tree be bare,
So that ther nis but bark and braunche ylaft,
Lyth Troilus, biraft of ech wel-fare,
Ybounden in the blake bark of care,
230Disposed wood out of his wit to breyde,
So sore him sat the chaunginge of Criseyde.

He rist him up, and every dore he shette
And windowe eek, and tho this sorweful man
Upon his beddes syde adoun him sette,
235Ful lyk a deed image, pale and wan;
And in his brest the heped wo bigan
Out breste, and he to werken in this wyse
In his woodnesse, as I shal yow devyse.

Right as the wilde bole biginneth springe
240Now here, now there, ydarted to the herte,
And of his deeth roreth in compleyninge,
Right so gan he aboute the chaumbre sterte,
Smyting his brest ay with his festes smerte;
His heed to the wal, his body to the grounde
245Ful oft ofte he swapte, himselven to confounde.

His eyen two, for pitee of his herte,
Out stremeden as swifte welles tweye;
The heighe sobbes of his sorwes smerte
His speche him refte, unnethes mighte he seye,
250`O deeth, allas! Why niltow do me deye?
Acursed be the day which that nature
Shoop me to ben a lyves creature!'

But after, whan the furie and the rage
Which that his herte twiste and faste threste,
255By lengthe of tyme somwhat gan asswage,
Upon his bed he leyde him doun to reste;
But tho bigonne his teeres more out breste,
That wonder is, the body may suffyse
To half this wo, which that I yow devyse.

260Than seyde he thus, `Fortune! Allas the whyle!
What have I doon, what have I thus agilt?
How mightestow for routhe me bigyle?
Is ther no grace, and shal I thus be spilt?
Shal thus Criseyde awey, for that thou wilt?
265Allas! How maystow in thyn herte finde
To been to me thus cruel and unkinde?

`Have I thee nought honoured al my lyve,
As thou wel woost, above the goddes alle?
Why wiltow me fro joye thus depryve?
270O Troilus, what may men now thee calle
But wrecche of wrecches, out of honour falle
Into miserie, in which I wol biwayle
Criseyde, allas! Til that the breeth me fayle?

`Allas, Fortune! If that my lyf in Ioye
275Displesed hadde unto thy foule envye,
Why ne haddestow my fader, king of Troye,
Biraft the lyf, or doon my bretheren dye,
Or slayn my-self, that thus compleyne and crye,
I, combre-world, that may of no-thing serve,
280But ever dye, and never fully sterve?

`If that Criseyde allone were me laft,
Nought roughte I whider thou woldest me stere;
And hir, allas! Than hastow me biraft.
But ever more, lo! This is thy manere,
285To reve a wight that most is to him dere,
To preve in that thy gerful violence.
Thus am I lost, ther helpeth no defence!

`O verray lord of love, O God, allas!
That knowest best myn herte and al my thought,
290What shal my sorwful lyf don in this cas
If I for-go that I so dere have bought?
Syn ye Cryseyde and me han fully brought
Into your grace, and bothe our hertes seled,
How may ye suffre, allas! It be repeled?

295`What I may doon, I shal, whyl I may dure
On lyve in torment and in cruel peyne,
This infortune or this disaventure,
Allone as I was born, ywis, compleyne;
Ne never wil I seen it shyne or reyne;
300But ende I wil, as Edippe, in derknesse
My sorwful lyf, and dyen in distresse.

`O wery goost, that errest to and fro,
Why niltow fleen out of the wofulleste
Body, that ever mighte on grounde go?
305O soule, lurkinge in this wo, unneste,
Flee forth out of myn herte, and lat it breste,
And folwe alwey Criseyde, thy lady dere;
Thy righte place is now no lenger here!

`O wofulle eyen two, syn your disport
310Was al to seen Criseydes eyen brighte,
What shal ye doon but, for my discomfort,
Stonden for nought, and wepen out your sighte?
Syn she is queynt, that wont was yow to lighte,
In veyn fro-this-forth have I eyen tweye
315Yformed, syn your vertue is a-weye.

`O my Criseyde, O lady sovereyne
Of thilke woful soule that thus cryeth,
Who shal now yeven comfort to the peyne?
Allas, no wight; but when myn herte dyeth,
320My spirit, which that so unto yow hyeth,
Receyve in gree, for that shal ay yow serve;
For thy no fors is, though the body sterve.

`O ye loveres, that heighe upon the wheel
Ben set of Fortune, in good aventure,
325God leve that ye finde ay love of steel,
And longe mot your lyf in joye endure!
But whan ye comen by my sepulture,
Remembreth that your felawe resteth there;
For I lovede eek, though I unworthy were.

330`O olde, unholsom, and mislyved man,
Calkas I mene, allas! What eyleth thee
To been a Greek, syn thou art born Troian?
O Calkas, which that wilt my bane be,
In cursed tyme was thou born for me!
335As wolde blisful Jove, for his joye,
That I thee hadde, where I wolde, in Troye!'





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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book IV, lines 337-427:
Pandarus speaks with Troilus and suggests Troilus should start to love another woman
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