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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book V, lines 176-196:
Criseyde meets her father Calkas
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Geoffrey Chaucer (1342 - 1400):
Troilus and Criseyde
Book V, lines 197-280: Troilus mourns and sends for Pandarus


To Troye is come this woful Troilus,
In sorwe aboven alle sorwes smerte,
With felon look, and face dispitous.
200Tho sodeynly doun from his hors he sterte,
And thurgh his paleys, with a swollen herte,
To chambre he wente; of nothing took he hede,
Ne noon to him dar speke a word for drede.

And there his sorwes that he spared hadde
205He yaf an issue large, and `Deeth!' he cryde;
And in his throwes frenetyk and madde
He cursed Jove, Appollo, and eek Cupyde,
He cursed Ceres, Bacus, and Cipryde,
His burthe, himself, his fate, and eek nature,
210And, save his lady, every creature.

To bedde he goth, and weyleth there and torneth
In furie, as dooth he, Ixion in helle;
And in this wyse he neigh til day sojorneth.
But tho bigan his herte a lyte unswelle
215Thorugh teeres which that gonnen up to welle;
And pitously he cryde upon Criseyde,
And to himself right thus he spak, and seyde:

`Wher is myn owene lady lief and dere,
Wher is hir whyte brest, wher is it, where?
220Wher ben hir armes and hir eyen clere,
That yesternight this tyme with me were?
Now may I wepe allone many a tere,
And graspe aboute I may, but in this place,
Save a pilowe, I finde nought to enbrace.

225`How shal I do? Whan shal she com ayeyn?
I noot, allas! Why leet ich hir to go?
As wolde God, ich hadde as tho be sleyn!
O herte myn, Criseyde, O swete fo!
O lady myn, that I love and no mo!
230To whom for evermo myn herte I dowe;
See how I deye, ye nil me not rescowe!

`Who seeth yow now, my righte loode-sterre?
Who sit right now or stant in your presence?
Who can conforten now your hertes werre?
235Now I am gon, whom yeve ye audience?
Who speketh for me right now in myn absence?
Allas, no wight; and that is al my care;
For wel woot I, as yvel as I ye fare.

`How sholde I thus ten dayes ful endure,
240Whan I the firste night have al this tene?
How shal she doon eek, sorwful creature?
For tendernesse, how shal she this sustene,
Swich wo for me? O pitous, pale, and grene
Shal been your fresshe wommanliche face
245For langour, er ye torne unto this place.'

And whan he fil in any slomeringes,
Anoon biginne he sholde for to grone,
And dremen of the dredfulleste thinges
That mighte been; as, mete he were allone
250In place horrible, makinge ay his mone,
Or meten that he was amonges alle
His enemys, and in hir hondes falle.

And therwithal his body sholde sterte,
And with the stert al sodeinliche awake,
255And swich a tremour fele aboute his herte,
That of the feer his body sholde quake;
And therewithal he sholde a noyse make,
And seme as though he sholde falle depe
From heighe a-lofte; and than he wolde wepe,

260And rewen on himself so pitously,
That wonder was to here his fantasye.
Another tyme he sholde mightily
Conforte himself, and seyn it was folye,
So causeles swich drede for to drye,
265And eft biginne his aspre sorwes newe,
That every man mighte on his sorwes rewe.

Who koude telle aright or ful discryve
His wo, his pleynt, his langour, and his pyne?
Nought al the men that han or been on lyve.
270Thou, redere, mayst thyself ful wel devyne
That swich a wo my wit can not defyne.
On ydel for to write it sholde I swynke,
Whan that my wit is wery it to thinke.

On hevene yet the sterres were sene,
275Although ful pale ywaxen was the mone;
And whyten gan the orisonte shene
Al estward, as it wont is for to done.
And Phebus with his rosy carte sone
Gan after that to dresse him up to fare,
280Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare.





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From Troilus and Criseyde, Book V, lines 281-413:
Pandarus comforts Troilus and urges him to rise
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