Geoffrey Chaucer.

Selections from Chaucer online

. (page 17 of 38)
Online LibraryGeoffrey ChaucerSelections from Chaucer → online text (page 17 of 38)
Font size
QR-code for this ebook

The whiche freendes ferventliche him preye
To senden after more, and that in hye,
Whyl that this toun stant thus in lupartye.

Sk., IV, 1338-1351; 1359-1372; 1380-1386

iv, 883-917 TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 215

"And that shal been an huge quantitee,
Thus shal I seyn, but, lest it folk aspyde,
This may be sent by no wight but by me.
I shal eek shewen him if pees bityde
What frendes that ich have on every syde
Toward the court, to doon the wrathe pace
Of Priamus, and doon him stonde in grace.

"So what for o thing and for other, swete,
I shal him so enchaunten with my sawes
That right in hevene his sowle is, shal he mete!
For al Appollo or his clerkes lawes
Or calculing avayleth nought three hawes;
Desyr of gold shal so his sowle blende
That as me lyst I shal wel make an ende.

" And if he wolde ought by his sort it preve
If that I lye, in certayn I shal fonde
Distorben him and plukke him by the sieve,
Making his sort, and beren him on honde,
He hath not wel the goddes understonde.
For goddes speken in amphibologyes,
And for oo sooth they tellen twenty lyes.

"Eek drede fond first goddes, I suppose:
Thus shal I seyn, and that his cowarde herte
Made him amis the goddes text to glose
Whan he for ferde out of his Delphos sterte.
And but I make him sone to converte
And doon my reed with-in a day or tweye
I wol to yow oblige me to deye."

And tre*veliche, as writen wel I finde,
That al this thing was seyd of good entente;
And that hir herte trewe was and kinde
Towardes him, and spak right as she mente,
And that she starf for wo neigh, whan she wente,
And was in purpos evere to be trewe.
Thus writen they that of hir wefkes knewe.

Sk., IV, 1387-1421

216 CHAUCER iv, 918-952

This Troilus with herte and eres spradde
Herde al this thing devysen to and fro;
And verraylich him semed that he hadde
The selve wit, but yet to lete hir go
His herte misforyaf him evere-mo.
But fynally he gan his herte wreste
To trusten hir, and took it for the beste.

But natheles the wending of Criseyde,
For al this world, may nought out of his minde;
For which ful ofte he pitously hir preyde
That of hir heste he mighte hir trewe finde.
And seyde hir, " Certes, if ye be unkinde,
And but ye come at day set in-to Troye,
Ne shal I nevere have hele, honour, ne loye.

"For al-so sooth as sonne up-rist on morwe,
And God! so wisly thou me, woful wrecche,
To reste bringe out of this cruel sorwe,
I wol my-selven slee if that ye drecche.
But of my deeth though litel be to recche,
Yet, er that ye me cause so to smerte,
Dwel rather heer, myn owene swete herte!

"For trewely, myn owene lady dere,
.Tho sleigh tes yet that I have herd yow stere
Ful shaply been to failen alle y-fere.
For thus men seyn, ' That oon thenketh the bere,
But al another thenketh his ledere.'
Your sire is wys, and seyd is, out of drede,
1 Men may the wyse at-renne, and not at-rede.'

*'It is ful hard to halten unespyed,

Bifore a crepul, for he can the craft.

Your fader is in sleighte as Argus yed;

For al be that his moeble is him biraft,

His olde sleighte is yet so with him laft

Ye shal not blende him for your woman hede,

Ne feyne a-right, and that is al my drede.

Sk., IV, 1422-1428; 1436-1463

iv, 953-987 TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 217

"I noot if pees shal evere-mo bityde;
But pees or no, for ernest ne for game,
I woot sin Calkas on the Grekes syde
Hath ones been and loste so foule his name,
He dar no more come heer ayein for shame,
For which that wey for ought I can espye
To trusten on nis but a fantasye.

" Ye shal eek seen your fader shal yow glose
To been a wyf ; and as he can wel preche
He shal som Grek so preyse and wel alose
That ravisshen he shal yow with his speche,
Or do yow doon by force as he shal teche.
And Troilus, of whom ye nil han routhe,
Shal causeles so sterven in his trouthe!

"And over al this, your fader shal despyse
Us alle, and seyn this citee nis but lorn;
And that thassege nevere shal aryse
For-why the Grekes han it alle sworn
Til we be slayn and doun our walles torn.
And thus he shal you with his wordes fere
That ay drede I that ye wol bleve there.

"Ye shul eek seen so many a lusty knight
A-mong the Grekes ful of worthinesse,
And ech of hem with herte, wit, and might,
To plesen yow don al his besinesse,
That ye shul dullen of the rudenesse
Of us sely Troians, but-if routhe
Remorde yow, or vertu of your trouthe.

"And this to me so grevous is to thinke
That fro my brest it wol my soule rende.
Ne dredeles in me ther may not sinke
A good opinoun if that ye wende,
For-why your faderes sleighte wol us shende.
And if ye goon, as I have told yow yore,
So thenk I nam but deed, with-oute more.

Sk., IV, 1464-1498

218 CHAUCER iv, 988-1022

" For which with humble, trewe, and pitous herte

A thousand tymes mercy I yow preye.

So reweth on myn aspre peynes smerte,

And doth somwhat as that I shal yow seye

And lat us stele away betwixe us tweye.

And thenk that folye is, whan man may chese,

For accident his substaunce ay to lese.

"I mene this, that sin we mowe er day
Wei stele away and been to-gider so,
What wit were it to putten in assay,
In cas ye sholden to your fader go,
If that ye mighte come ayein or no?
Thus mene I, that it were a gret folye
To putte that sikernesse in lupartye.

"And vulgarly to speken of substaunce
Of tresour, may we bothe with us lede
Y-nough to live in honour and plesaunce
Til in-to tyme that we shul ben dede.
And thus we may eschewen al this drede;
For everich other wey ye can recorde,
Myn herte, y-wis, may not ther-with acorde.

"And hardily, ne dredeth no poverte,
For I have kin and freendes elles-where
That, though we comen in our bare sherte,
Us sholde neither lakke gold ne gere
But been honoured whyl we dwelten there.
And go we anoon, for, as in myn entente,
This is the beste, if that ye wole assente."

Criseyde, with a syk, right in this wyse
Answerde, "Y-wis, my dere herte trewe,
We may wel stele away as ye devyse,
And finde swiche unthrifty weyes newe,
But afterward ful sore it wol us rewe.
And helpe me God so at my moste nede
As causeles ye suffren al this drede!

Sk., IV, 1499-1533

iv, 1023-1057 TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 219

"For thilke day that I for cherisshinge
Or drede of fader, or of other wight,
Or for estat, delyt, or for weddinge
Be fals to yow, my Troilus, my knight,
Saturnes doughter, luno, thorugh hir might,
As wood as Athamante do me dwelle
Eternaly in Stix, the put of helle!

"But that ye speke awey thus for to go

And leten alle your freendes, God for-bede

For any womman that ye sholden so,

And namely sin Troye hath now swich nede

Of help. And eek of o thing taketh hede,

If this were wist, my lyf laye in balaunce

And your honour: God shilde us fro mischaunce!

"And if so be that pees her-after take,

As alday happeth, after anger, game,

Why, Lord ! the sorwe and wo ye wolden make

That ye ne dorste come ayein for shame!

And er that ye luparten so your name,

Beth nought to hasty in this hote fare;

For hasty man ne wanteth nevere care.

"What trowe ye the peple eek al aboute
Wolde of it seye? It is ful light to arede.
They wolden seye, and swere it, out of doute,
That love ne droof yow nought to doon this dede,
But lust voluptuous and coward drede.
Thus were al lost, y-wis, myn herte dere,
Your honour, which that now shyneth so clere.

"And also thenketh on myn honestee,

That floureth yet, how foule I sholde it shende,

And with what filthe it spotted sholde be,

If in this forme I sholde with yow wende.

Ne though I livede un-to the worldes ende,

My name sholde I nevere ayeinward winne.

Thus were I lost, and that were, routhe and sinne.

Sk.. IV. 1534-1540; 1555-1582

220 CHAUCER iv, 1058-1092

"And trusteth this, that certes, herte swete,
Er Phebus suster, Lucina the shene,
The Leoun passe out of this Ariete,
I wol ben heer, with-outen any wene.
I mene, as helpe me luno, hevenes quene,
The tenthe day, but-if that deeth me assayle,
I wol yow seen, with-outen any fayle."

"And now, so this be sooth," quod Troilus,

"I shal wel suffre un-to the tenthe day,

Sin that I see that nede it moot be thus.

But for the love of God, if it be may,

So lat us stele prively away!

For evere in oon, as for to live in reste,

Myn herte seyth that it wol been the beste."

"O mercy, God, what lyf is this?" quod she;
"Alias, ye slee me thus for verray tene!
I see wel now that ye mistrusten me;
For by your wordes it is wel y-sene.
Now for the love of Cynthia, the shene,
Mistrust me not thus causeles, for routhe,
Sin to be trewe I have yow plight my trouthe.

"And thenketh wel that som tyme it is wit
To spend e a tyme a tyme for to winne;
Ne, pardee, lorn am I nought fro yow yit,
Though that we been a day or two a-twinne.
Dryf out the fantasyes yow with-inne,
And trusteth me, and leveth eek your sorwe,
Or heer my trouthe, I wol not live til morwe.

"For if ye wiste how sore it doth me smerte,

Ye wolde cesse of this; for God, thou wost

The pure spirit wepeth in myn herte

To see yow wepen that I love most,

And that I moot gon to the Grekes ost.

Ye, nere it that I wiste remedye

To come ayein, right heer I wolde dye!

Sk.,IV ; 1590-1624

iv, 1093-1127 TROILUS AND CRISEYDE 221

"And over al this, I pray yow," quod she tho,
"Myn owene hertes soothfast suffisaunce,
Sin I am thyn al hool, with-outen mo,
That whyl that I am absent, no plesaunce
Of othere do me fro your remembraunce.
For I am evere a-gast, for-why men rede
That 'Love is thing ay ful of bisy drede. ' "

To this answerde Troilus and seyde,

"Now God, to whom ther nis no cause y-wrye,

Me glade, as wis I nevere un-to Criseyde,

Sin thilke day I saw hir first with ye,

Was fals ne nevere shal til that I dye.

At shorte wordes, wel ye may me leve:

I can no more, it shal be founde at preve."

"Graunt mercy, goode myn, y-wis," quod she,
"And blisful Venus lat me nevere sterve
Er I may stonde of plesaunce in degree
To quyte him wel that so wel can deserve.
And whyl that God my wit wol me conserve,
I shal so doon, so trewe I have yow founde,
That ay honour to me-ward shal rebounde.

" For trusteth wel that your estat royal

Ne veyn delyt, nor only worthinesse

Of yow in werre, or torney marcial,

Ne pompe, array, nobleye, or eek richesse,

Ne made me to rewe on your distresse;

But moral vertu, grounded upon trouthe,

That was the cause I first had on yow routhe!

"And this may lengthe of yeres not for-do,

Ne remuable Fortune deface.

But luppiter, that of his might may do

The sorwful to be glad, so yeve us grace

Er nightes ten to meten in this place,

So that it may your herte and myn suffyse.

And fareth now wel, for tyme is that ye ryse."

Sk., IV, 1639-1645; 1653-1673; 1681-1687

222 CHAUCER iv, ms-ini. v, I-H

And after that they longe y-pleyned hadde,

And ofte y-kist and streit in armes folde,

The day gan ryse, and Troilus him cladde,

And rewfulliche his lady gan biholde

As he that felte dethes cares colde.

And to hir grace he gan him recomaunde:

Wher him was wo, this holde I no demaunde.

For mannes heed imaginen ne can,

Ne entendement considere, ne tonge telle,

The cruel peynes of this sorwful man,

That passen every torment doun in helle.

For whan he saugh that she ne mighte dwelle,

Which that his soule out of his herte rente,

With-outen more, out of the chaumbre he wente.

Explicit Liber Quartus.


Incipit Liber Quintus

Aprochen gan the fatal destinee

That loves hath in disposicioun,

And to yow, angry Parcas, sustren three,

Committeth to don execucioun;

For which Criseyde moste out of the toun,

And Troilus shal dwelle forth in pyne

Til Lachesis his threed no lenger twyne.

Ful redy was at pryme Dyomede,
Criseyde un-to the Grekes ost to lede,
For sorwe of which she felte hir herte blede
As she that niste what was best to rede.
And trewely, as men in bokes rede,
Men wiste nevere womman han the care
Ne was so looth out of a toun to fare.

Sk., IV, 1688-1701; V, 1-7; 15-21


This Troilus, with-outen reed or lore,

As man that hath his loyes eek forlore,

Was wayting on his lady evere-more

As she that was the soothfast crop and more

Of al his lust or loyes heer-tofore.

But Troilus, now farwel al thy loye,

For shaltow nevere seen hir eft in Troye!

Soth is that whyl he bood in this manere,
He gan his wo ful manly for to hyde,
That wel unnethe it seen was in his chere.
But at the yate ther she sholde oute ryde
With certeyn folk, he hoved hir tabyde
So wo bigoon, al wolde he nought him pleyne,
That on his hors unnethe he sat for peyne.

For ire he quook, so gan his herte gnawe,
Whan Diomede on horse gan him dresse,
And seyde un-to him-self this ilke sawe,
"Alias," quod he, "thus foul wrecchednesse
Why suffre ich it, why nil ich it redresse?
Were it not bet at ones for to dye
Than evere-more in langour thus to drye?

"Why nil I make at ones riche and pore
To have y-nough to done er that she go?
Why nil I bringe al Troye upon a rore?
Why nil I sleen this Diomede also?
Why nil I rather with a man or two
Stele hir a-way? Why wol I this endure?
Why nil I helpen to myn owene cure?"

But why he nolde doon so fel a dede,

That shal I seyn, and why him liste it spare:

He had in herte alwey a maner drede

Lest that Criseyde in rumour of this fare

Sholde han ben slayn; lo, this was al his care.

And elles, certeyn, as I seyde yore,

He had it doon, with-outen wordes more.

Sk., V, 22-56

224 CHAUCER v, so-84

Criseyde, whan she redy was to ryde,

Ful sorwfully she sighte, and seyde, "Alias!"

But forth she moot for ought that may bityde,

And forth she rit ful sorwfully a pas.

Ther nis non other remedie in this cas.

What wonder is though that hir sore smerte,

Whan she forgoth hir owene swete herte?

This Troilus in wyse of curteisye,

With hauk on honde, and with an huge route

Of knightes, rood and did hir companye,

Passing al the valeye fer with-oute.

And ferther wolde han riden, out of doute,

Ful fayn, and wo was him to goon so sone,

But torne he moste, and it was eek to done.

And right with that was Antenor y-come
Out of the Grekes ost, and every wight
Was of it glad, and seyde he was wel-come.
And Troilus, al nere his herte light,
He peyned him with al his fulle might
Him to with-holde of weping at the leste,
And Antenor he kiste, and made feste.

And ther-with-al he moste his leve take,

And caste his eye upon hir pitously,

And neer he rood his cause for to make,

To take hir by the hond al sob rely.

And he ful sof te and sleighly gan hir seye,

"Now hold your day, and dooth me not to deye!"

With that his courser torned he a-boute

With face pale, and un-to Diomede

No word he spak, ne noon of al his route;

Of which the sone of Tydeus took hede,

As he that coude more than the crede

In swich a craft, and by the reyne hir hente.

And Troilus to Troye homward he wente.

Sk., V, 57-91


This Diomede, that ladde hir by the brydel,
Whan that he saw the folk of Troye aweye,
Thoughte, " Al my labour shal not been on ydel
If that I may, for somwhat shal I seye.
For at the worste it may yet shorte our weye.
I have herd seyd eek tymes twyes twelve,
'He is a fool that wol for-yete him-selve. ' '

But natheles this thoughte he wel ynough,
"That certaynly I am aboute nought
If that I speke of love, or make it tough;
For douteles, if she have in hir thought
Him that I gesse, he may not been y-brought
So sone awey; but I shal finde a mene
That she not wite as yet shal what I mene."

This Diomede, as he that coude his good,
Whan this was doon gan fallen forth in speche
Of this and that, and asked why she stood
In swich disese, and gan hir eek biseche
That if that he encrese mighte or eche
With any thing hir ese, that she sholde
Comaunde it him, and seyde he doon it wolde.

For trewely he swoor hir as a knight

That ther nas thing with which he might hir plese,

That he nolde doon his peyne and al his might

To doon it for to doon hir herte an ese.

And preyede hir she wolde hir sorwe apese,

And seyde, "Y-wis, we Grekes con have loye

To honouren yow, as wel as folk of Troye."

He seyde eek thus, "I woot yow thinketh straunge
No wonder is, for it is to yow newe
Thaqueintaunce of these Troianes to chaunge
For folk of Grece that ye nevere knewe.
But wolde nevere God but-if as trewe
A Greek ye shulde among us alle finde
As any Troian is, and eek as kinde.

Sk., V, 92-126

226 CHAUCER v, 120-154

" And by the cause I swoor yow right, lo, now,
To been your freend, and helply, to my might,
And for that more acqueintaunce eek of yow
Have ich had than another straunger wight,
So fro this forth I pray yow, day and night,
Comaundeth me, how sore that me smerte,
To doon al that may lyke un-to your herte;

" And that ye me wolde as your brother trete,
And taketh not my frendship in despyt;
And though your sorwes be for thinges grete,
Noot I not why, but out of more respyt
Myn herte hath for to amende it greet delyt.
And if I may your harmes not redresse
I am right sory for your hevinesse.

"And nere it that we been so neigh the tente
Of Calkas, which that seen us bothe may,
I wolde of this yow telle al myn entente;
But this enseled til another day.
Yeve me your hcnd, I am and shal ben ay,
God helpe me so, whyl that my lyf may dure,
Your owene aboven every creature.

"Thus seyde I nevere er now to womman born;
For, God myn herte as wisly glade so,
I lovede nevere womman heer-biforn
As paramours, ne nevere shal no mo.
And, for the love of God, beth not my fo:
Al can I not to yow, my lady dere,
Compleyne aright, for I am yet to lere.

"And wondreth not, myn owene lady bright,
Though that I speke of love to you thus blyve;
For I have herd or this of many a wight
Hath loved thing he nevere saugh his lyve.
Eek I am not of power for to stryve
Ayens the God of Love, but him obeye
I wol alwey, and mercy I yow preye.

Sk., V, 127-140; 148-168


"Ther been so worthy knightes in this place,

And ye so fair, that everich of hem alle

Wol peynen him to stonden in your grace.

But mighte me so fair a grace falle

That ye me for your servaunt wolde calle,

So lowly ne so trewely you serve

Nil noon of hem as I shal til I sterve."

Criseyde un-to that purpos lyte answerde,
As she that was with sorwe oppressed so
That in effect she nought his tales herde
But heer and ther, now heer a word or two.
Hir thoughte hir sorwful herte brast a-two.
For whan she gan hir fader fer aspye,
Wei neigh doun of hir hors she gan to sye.

But natheles she thonked Diomede

Of al his travaile, and his goode chere,

And that him liste his friendship hir to bede;

And she accepteth it in good manere,

And wolde do fayn that is him leef and dere;

And trusten him she wolde, and wel she mighte,

As seyde she, and from hir hors she alighte.

Hir fader hath hir in his armes nome,
And twenty tyme he kiste his doughter swete,
And seyde, "O dere doughter myn, wel-come!"
She seyde eek she was fayn with him to mete,
And stood forth mewet, milde, and mansuete.
But heer I leve hir with hir fader dwelle,
And forth I wol of Troilus yow telle.

To Troie is come this woful Troilus,
In sorwe aboven alle sorwes smerte,
With felon look and face dispitous.
Tho sodeinly doun fro his hors he sterte,
And thorugh his paleys with a swollen herte
To chambre he wente. Of no-thing took he hede,
Ne noon to him dar speke a word for drede.

Sk., V, 169-203

228 CHAUCER v, 190-221

And ther his sorwes that he spared hadde
He yaf an issu large, and "Deeth!" he cryde;
And in his throwes frenetyk and madde
He cursede love, Appollo, and eek Cupyde,
He cursede Ceres, Bacus, and Cipryde,
His burthe, him-self, his fate, and eek nature,
And save his lady every creature.

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

On hevene yet the sterres were sene,
Al-though ful pale y-waxen was the mone,
And whyten gan the orisonte shene
Al estward as it wonted is to done,
And Phebus with his rosy carte sone
Gan after that to dresse him up to fare,
Whan Troilus hath sent after Pandare.

This Pandare, that of al the day biforn
Ne mighte have com en Troilus to see,
Al-though he on his heed it had y-sworn,
For with the King Pryam alday was he
So that it lay not in his libertee
No-wher to gon, but on the morwe he wente
To Troilus whan that he for him sente.

"My Pandarus," quod Troilus, "the sorwe
Which that I drye, I may not longe endure.
I trowe I shal not liven til to-morwe,
For which I wolde alwey, on aventure,
To thee devysen of my sepulture
The forme, and of my moeble thou dispone
Right as thee semeth best is for to done.

Sk., V, 204-210; 260-266; 274-287; 295 301


"But of the fyr and flaumbe funeral

In which my body brenne shal to glede,

And of the feste and pleyes palestral

At my vigile, I praye thee take good hede

That al be wel; and off re Mars my stede,

My swerd, myn helm, and, leve brother dere,

My sheld to Pallas yef, that shyneth clere.

"The poudre in which myn herte y-brend shal torne,

That preye I thee thou take and it conserve

In a vessel that men clepe an urne

Of gold, and to my lady that I serve,

For love of whom thus pitously I sterve,

So yef it hir, and do me this plesaunce

To preye hir kepe it for a remembraunce."

Pandare answerde, and seyde, "Troilus,
My dere freend, as I have told thee yore
That it is folye for to sorwen thus
And causeles, for which I can no-more.
But who-so wol not trowen reed ne lore,
I can not seen in him no remedye,
But lat him worthen with his fantasye.

" But Troilus, I pray thee, telle me now

If that thou trowe er this that any wight

Hath loved paramours as wel as thou?

Ye, God wot, and fro many a worthy knight

Hath his lady goon a fourtenight

And he not yet made halvendel the fare.

What nede is thee to maken al this care?

" For which with al myn herte I thee biseche
Un-to thy-self that al this thou foryive;
And rys up now with-oute more speche,
And lat us caste how forth may best be drive
This tyme, and eek how freshly we may live
Whan that she cometh, the which shal be right sone:
God helpe me so, the beste is thus to done."

Sk., V, 302-315; 323-336; 386-392

230 CHAUCER v, 250-294

This Troilus answerde, "O brother dere,
This knowen folk that han y-suffred peyne,
That though he wepe and make sorwful chere,
That feleth harm and smert in every veyne,
No wonder is; and though I evere pleyne
Or alwey wepe, I am no-thing to blame,
Sin I have lost the cause of al my game.

" But sin of fyne force I moot aryse,

I shal aryse as sone as evere I may;

And God, to whom myn herte I sacrifyse,

So sende us hastely the ten the day!

For was ther nevere fowl so fayn of May

As I shal been whan that she cometh in Troye

That cause is of my torment and my loye.

"But whider is thy reed," quod Troilus,
"That we may pleye us best in al this toun?"
"By God, my conseil is," quod Pandarus,
"To ryde and pleye us with King Sarpedoun."
So longe of this they speken up and doun,
Til Troilus gan at the laste assente
To ryse, and forth to Sarpedoun they wente.

Thus Pandarus with alle peyne and wo
Made him to dwelle, and at the woukes ende
Of Sarpedoun they toke hir leve tho,
And on hir wey they spedden hem to wende.
Quod Troilus, "Now God me grace sende
That I may finden at myn hom-cominge
Criseyde comen!" and ther- with gan he singe.

"Ye, hasel-wode!" though te this Pandare,
And to him-self ful softely he seyde,
"God woot, refreyden may this hote fare
Er Calkas sende Troilus Criseyde!"
But natheles he Taped thus and seyde
And swor, y-wis, his herte him wel bihighte
She wolde come as sone as evere she mighte.

Sk., V, 414-434; 498-511


Whan they un-to the paleys were y-comen

Of Troilus, they doun of hors alighte,

And to the chambre hir wey than han they nomen.

And in-to tyme that it gan to nighte,

They spaken of Criseyde the brighte.

And after this, whan that hem bothe leste,

They spedde hem fro the soper un-to reste.

On morwe, as sone as day bigan to clere,
This Troilus gan of his sleep tabreyde,
And to Pandare, his owene brother dere,
"For love of God," ful pitously he seyde,
" As go we seen the paleys of Criseyde;
For sin we yet may have namore feste,
So lat us seen hir paleys at the leste."

Online LibraryGeoffrey ChaucerSelections from Chaucer → online text (page 17 of 38)