Troilus and Crisyde | Page 3

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BOOK I
The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1
That was the king Priamus
sone of Troye,
In lovinge, how his aventures fellen
Fro wo to wele,
and after out of Ioye,
My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5

Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte
Thise woful vers, that wepen as
I wryte!
To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment,
Thou cruel Furie, sorwing
ever in peyne;
Help me, that am the sorwful instrument 10
That
helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne!
For wel sit it, the sothe for to
seyne,
A woful wight to han a drery fere,
And, to a sorwful tale, a
sory chere.
For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve, 15
Ne dar to Love, for myn
unlyklinesse,
Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve,
So fer am
I fro his help in derknesse;
But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse

To any lover, and his cause avayle, 20
Have he my thank, and myn
be this travayle!
But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse,
If any drope of pitee in yow
be,
Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse
That ye han felt, and on
the adversitee 25
Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye
Han felt
that Love dorste yow displese;
Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an
ese.
And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas
Of Troilus, as ye may after
here, 30
That love hem bringe in hevene to solas,
And eek for me

preyeth to god so dere,
That I have might to shewe, in som manere,

Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure,
In Troilus unsely aventure.
35
And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred
In love, that never nil
recovered be,
And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred
Thorugh
wikked tonges, be it he or she;
Thus biddeth god, for his benignitee,
40
So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace,
That been
despeyred out of Loves grace.
And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese,
That god hem graunte ay
good perseveraunce,
And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese, 45

That it to Love be worship and plesaunce.
For so hope I my soule
best avaunce,
To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be,
And wryte
hir wo, and live in charitee.
And for to have of hem compassioun 50
As though I were hir owene
brother dere.
Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun,
For now wol I
gon streight to my matere,
In whiche ye may the double sorwes here

Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde, 55
And how that she forsook
him er she deyde.
It is wel wist, how that the Grekes stronge
In armes with a thousand
shippes wente
To Troyewardes, and the citee longe
Assegeden
neigh ten yeer er they stente, 60
And, in diverse wyse and oon entente,

The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne,
By Paris doon, they
wroughten al hir peyne.
Now fil it so, that in the toun ther was
Dwellinge a lord of greet
auctoritee, 65
A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas,
That in science
so expert was, that he
Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be,
By
answere of his god, that highte thus,
Daun Phebus or Apollo
Delphicus. 70
So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge,
And eek by answere of this

Appollo,
That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe,
Thorugh which
that Troye moste been for-do,
He caste anoon out of the toun to go;
75
For wel wiste he, by sort, that Troye sholde
Destroyed ben, ye,
wolde who-so nolde.
For which, for to departen softely
Took purpos ful this forknowinge
wyse,
And to the Grekes ost ful prively 80
He stal anoon; and they,
in curteys wyse,
Hym deden bothe worship and servyse,
In trust
that he hath conning hem to rede
In every peril which that is to drede.
The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed, 85
Thorugh al the toun,
and generally was spoken,
That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed

With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken
On him that falsly
hadde his feith so broken;
And seyden, he and al his kin at ones 90

Ben worthy for to brennen, fel and bones.
Now hadde Calkas left, in this meschaunce,
Al unwist of this false
and wikked dede,
His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce,

For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede, 95
As she that niste what was
best to rede;
For bothe a widowe was she, and allone
Of any freend
to whom she dorste hir mone.
Criseyde was this lady name a-right;
As to my dome, in al Troyes
citee 100
Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight
So aungellyk
was hir natyf beautee,
That lyk a thing immortal semed she,
As
doth an hevenish