Troilus and Criseyde. BOOK IV.

Educational use only.

Prohemium.

BUT all too little, alack the day!, lasts such joy; thanks to Fortune, who ever seems truest when she will beguile, and to fools can so attune her song that she catches and hoodwinks them, the common traitress! And when a wight is thrown down from off her wheel, then she laughs and grimaces upon him. From Troilus she began to turn away her bright visage, and took no note of him, but clean cast him out of his lady's grace and set up Diomed on her wheel. Wherefore my heart begins to bleed even now, and my very pen to quake for fear of what I must write, for the matter of my book must henceforth be how Criseyde deserted Troilus, or at least how she was unkind, as folk write who have handed down the story. Alas, that they should ever know cause to speak ill of her, and if they slander her, in truth themselves should have the ignominy! O ye Erinnyes, Night's three daughters, that lament in endless torture, Megaera, Alecto, Tisiphone,-and eke thou cruel Mars, father to Quirinus,-do ye help me finish this fourth book, that in it be fully showed Troilus' loss of life and love together.

Explicit Prohemium.

Incipit Quartus Liber.

Whilst the strong Greeks were lying about Troy-town in a host, as I have said before, and Phoebes was shining from the breast of Hercules' Lion, it befell that Hector with full many a bold baron planned to fight with the Greeks, as he was wont, to do them what harm he could. I know not how long it was betwixt the taking this purpose and the day they meant to sally forth; lout upon a day Hector and many a worthy wight issued through the gates in armor bright and fair, with spear in hand and big bows bent, and anon their foemen met them beard to beard in the field. With spears ground sharp, with arrows, darts, swords and fell maces they fought all the day long, and brought horse and man to the ground, and with their axes dashed out brains. But the last assault, to confess the truth, the folk of Troy conducted so ill that they had the worse and fled homewards at night. On which day Antenor was taken prisoner, in spite of the prowess of Polydamas or Mnestheus, Xanthippus, Sarpedon, Polymnestor, Polytes, or the Trojan Sir Riphaeus, and much other lesser folk as Phoebuseus; so that for that blow the folk of Troy dreaded in great part to lose their safety. But never the less at their urgent asking a truce was made, and they began to treat for making an exchange of prisoners, and, for the over-plus which the Greeks had, gave Charge sums; and anon this plan was known in every street in town, and also in the camp and amongst the first it reached Calchas' ear. When he had learned that this treating was to be carried through, he went and pressed into the consistory amongst the Old Greek lords and sat him down where he was wont; and with a changed face begged a boon, and that for the love of God they should do him so much reverence as to cease from noise and give him a hearing.

'Lo, my lords,' then he said, 'I was once a Trojan, as it is doubtless known; and, if you so remember, I am Calchas, who first of all gave you comfort when you needed it, and informed you -tell how you should prosper. for doubt you not that after a season through your means Troy shall be burnt and beaten down to the ground. And in what manner you are to destroy this town and achieve all your will you have ere this heard me describe. This thou wot, my lords, I trow. And because the Greeks were so dear to me, to teach you how in this case you were best do, I came myself in my proper person, having no regard to my treasure or my income, in comparison with your well-being. Thus I left all my goods and came to you, my lords, deeming in this I should please you. All this loss brings me no regret- I am willing, as I hoped to be saved, for your sake to lose all that I have in Troy,--save a daughter whom I left at home asleep, alas!, when I fled out of the town. Cruel and harsh father that I was, how could I have had so hard a heart? Alas that I brought her not in her shift! For sorrow of this I will not live till to-morrow, unless you lords have pity on me. For because ere now I saw no way to deliver her, I have held my peace; but now, or never, I may have her right soon if it please you. Grant me help and grace! Amongst all this throng may some have compassion on this old caitiff in trouble, since it is for you that I have all this heaviness! You have now Trojans enough fettered in prison, and, if it be your will, my child may now be redeemed by one of them. Now for the love of God and of generosity alas!, grant me one out of so many. What need to refuse this prayer, since you shall shortly have both town and people? On peril of my life, I lie not; Apollo has told it me faithfully and I have also found it in the stars, and by divination and augury, and I dare to say that the time is hard at hand when fire and flame shall spread over all the town, and thus shall Troy turn to cold ashes. For it is certain that Phoebes and Neptune, who made the walls of the town, are so wroth with the folk of Troy that they will bring it to ruin even for anger with King Laomedon; because he would not pay them their hire, the town shall yet be put in flames.'

As this gray old man was telling his tale, humble in his speech and looks, the salt tears ran fast over his two cheeks. So long he begged them for succor that, to relieve his bitter sighs, they granted him Antenor without more pause. And who was glad but Calchas then! And full soon he laid his charges on them who should go on the embassy, and earnestly prayed them to bring back in return for Antenor King Thoas and Criseyde; and when King Priam had granted his safe-conduct, the ambassadors went straight to Troy.

When the cause of their coming had been told, the aged King Priam summoned thereupon his whole parliament, whose decision was that the exchange of prisoners and all the requests pleased them well, and thereupon the ambassadors proceeded inward.

Troilus was present when Criseyde was asked in place of Antenor, and wellnigh died to hear the words. His face changed full soon, but lest men should spy his feelings he said not a word and with manly heart kept his sorrow under. Full of anguish and grisly fear he awaited what other lords should say. If they should grant the exchange of her (which God forbid!), then he thought of two things,--first to save her honor and then how best he might withstand the exchange. Full diligently he considered it. Love made him all eager to keep her and rather to die than let her go, but on the other side Reason said to him: 'Do not so without her assent, lest, if you resist it, she should become your enemy, and say that through your meddling your loves are blown abroad which before were unknown.' Wherefore he thought it best that, even though the lords would that she should go, he would let them decide as they wished, and tell it his lady first- and when she had told him her wish, then he would fall speedily to work, though all the world should strive against it.

Hector, when he heard how the Greeks would have Criseyde for Antenor, resisted it and answered gravely, 'Sirs, she is no prisoner. I wot not who laid this charge upon you, but for my part you may say to then straightway that we are not wont here to have women for sale.'

An outcry straightway there arose as violent as the blaze of straw set a-fire; for their evil fortune would have it so that the Trojans demanded the cause of their own ruin. 'Hector,' they cried, 'what ill ghost inspires you thus to shield this woman and cause us to lose Antenor, so wise and bold a baron? You choose a wrong course. He is one of the greatest of our towns- men, and anyone may see we have need of folk. Hector, let be such fancies. King Priam,' they cried, 'we say this, that all our voice is to give up Criseyde and to deliver Antenor.'

Ah Lord Juvenal, true are thy sage words, that folk so little know what is to be desired that full often they find their ruin thus, blinded to their true advantage by the cloud of error. And lo here an ensample ready! This folk desires now to deliver Antenor, who brought them to mischance- for he was afterwards traitor to the town of Troy. Alas, they let free him too early; foolish world, behold thy discernment! Criseyde who never did them harm, shall no longer bathe in bliss. Antenor shall come home, and she shall out, so everyone demanded. So the parliament pronounced that Criseyde should be yielded up for Antenor, and it was decreed by the president. Though Hector full often prayed against it, and whatever wight withstood it, all was for naught; it must and should be, for the larger part of the parliament would have it so.

When the assembly had broken up, Troilus without a word sped to his chamber, all alone save for a man or two of his, whom he bade hie them out, for he would sleep, as he told them. And then he laid him upon his bed. As in winter the leaves drop away one by one till the tree is naked and naught but branch and bark, so lay Troilus bereft of all his welfare, bound in the black bark of misery ready to start out of his wits, so sorely oppressed him the exchanging of Criseyde. This sorrowful man rose up and shut every door and window and then sat him down upon his bed's side, like a dead wan image. Then the woe heaped up in his breast began to burst out, and he in his frenzy to fare as the wild bull when he is pierced to the heart, and plunges hither and thither and roars aloud in lament of his death. So Troilus flung himself about the chamber, ever smiting his breast violently with his fists, and beating his head upon the wall and his body on the ground to kill himself. His two eyes streamed out like two swift springs. His loud sobs so bereft him of speech that he scarce could say, 'O death, alas! why wilt thou not take me! Cursed be the day when Nature framed me to be a living creature!'

But when the fury which twisted and oppressed his heart by length of time began somewhat to assuage, he laid him down to rest on his bed. But then began his tears to burst out yet more, till it is wonder that a man's body could hold out against half this grieving. Then he said thus, 'Alas the day! Fortune, what have I done, what is my guilt? How hadst thou heart to beguile me so? Is there no grace, must I perish? Must Criseyde away? How canst thou find it in thy heart to be so cruel to me? Have I not honored thee all my life above all the gods, as thou well knowest? Why wilt thou take my joy from me? Troilus, what may men call thee now but the wretch of wretches fallen from glory into misery, where I will lament Criseyde till breath fails me? Alack, Fortune! If my joyous life displeased thy foul envy, why didst not slay my father the king or my brethren or myself,--me, cumber-world, useless, ever dying yet never dead? If Criseyde alone were left me, I should not care whither thou didst steer. Yet it is she thou hast robbed me of. Yet this is evermore thy way, to bereave a wight of what is dearest to him, thus to prove thy capricious violence. Thus am I lost beyond remedy. O Love, O true lord! Thou knowest best my heart and thoughts. Alas, O God! How shall my sorrowful life fare if I forego what I have bought so dearly? Since thou hast brought Criseyde and me fully into thy grace and sealed both our hearts with thy seal, how canst thou suffer it to be annulled? What shall I do? As long as I can last alive, I will bewail this cursed fortune in torment and cruel pangs, as solitary as I was born. Never will I see it rain or shine, but I will end my woeful life, like Oedipus, in darkness.

'Ah, my weary spirit, that flickerest to and fro, why wilt not fly out of the woefullest body that ever walked on ground! Soul, lurking in this woe, unnest thee; fly from my heart and let it burst, and follow ever thy lady; thy rightful place is no longer here. Woeful eyes, since your pleasure was all to see Criseyde's shining eyes, what shall ye do now but lie vainly still and weep out your sight? Since she is quenched that was wont to illumine you, in vain from this time forth have I two eyes, since your virtue is gone. O my Criseyde, sovereign lady of that woeful soul that cries thus, who shall now give me comfort? When my heart is dead, receive in kindness the spirit that hastens to thee, for it shall ever be thy servant. Therefore no matter though the body may die! Lovers, that are set high upon the wheel of Fortune in good estate, God grant that ye ever find love of steel, and long may your life endure in joy! But when ye pass my sepulchre, remember your fellow rests there, for I though unworthy, loved too. Unwholesome ill-living old man, Calchas I mean, alas! what ailed thee to become a Greek, since thou wast born Trojan? Calchas, that wilt be my bane, thou wast born in cursed hour for me! Would to blessed Jove that I once had thee where I would in Troy!'

A thousand sighs, hotter than coals, passed one after another out of his breast, mingled with the plaints which ever fed his woe and with his never-ceasing tears. In a word, his pains so racked him, and he grew so weak, that he felt at last neither joy nor suffering, but lay in a trance.

Pandarus, who had heard at the parliament what every lord and burgess said, and how the exchange had been decreed with one voice, began wellnigh to go out of his wits. Scarce knowing what he did, he rushed to Troilus. A knight, who at the time was keeping the chamber door, undid it anon, and Pandarus went softly into the dark chamber toward the bed, tenderly weeping and so dazed that he knew not what to say. With his face all drawn and arms folded he stood before Troilus and looked on his piteous face. But Lord! How chilled grew his heart to see his friend in woe! When Troilus was aware of his friend, he began to melt as the snow before the sun, for which Pandarus wept as tenderly as he; and for a space the two were speechless, and could not say one word for grief.

But at last Troilus, nigh dead for suffering, burst out in a groan, and said in a husky voice amid his sighs and sobs, 'Pandarus, I am dead without remedy. Heard you not at the parliament how my Criseyde is lost for Antenor?'

Pandarus, deadly pale, answered piteously, 'Yea, I know all how it is. Would it were as false as it is true! Merciful heavenly who would have believed it! Who would have believed that in so short a time Fortune would have overthrown our joy! For I deem that in this world there is no creature that ever saw stranger ruin wrought by chance than this. But who can divine all or eschew all? Such is the world! Wherefore my conclusion is,--let no wight trust to gain from Fortune peculiar favor, for her gifts are common.

'But tell me, why are you so mad as to sorrow thus? Why lie you so, since you have already had all your desire, have had your portion from Fortune? But I, that never in all my loves felt one friendly look or glance,--let me wail and weep thus till I die! And besides this, as you know well yourself, this town is full of ladies, and a fairer than ten such as she ever was, I trow, I shall find in some company yea, one or two, without any doubt. Therefore be glad, dear friend; if she be lost, we shall find another! What! God forbid that all pleasure should be for one thing only and in none else! If one can sing, another can dance well; if one be goodly, another is merry and lightsome; and this one is fair and that one demeans her well. Each thing is prized for its peculiar virtue, this falcon for heron and that one for waterfowl. "The new love oft drives out the old," as writes Zeuxis, who was full wise. A fresh plight will have a fresh plan. Think too that you are bound to preserve your own life. Such a fire as yours must by nature grow cool in time, for since it is but chance pleasure, some chance will put it out of your remembrance. For as sure as day follows night, a new love, or labor or other trouble, or else seldom seeing the beloved one, causes old affections to pass away. As for you, one of these you will have, to shorten your sharp and bitter pains; her absence will drive her out of your heart!'

These words he said only to help his friend, lest he should die for sorrowed and assuredly so he stanched his woe, he recked not what sorry stuff he spoke. But Troilus gave little heed to it all. One ear heard it, and it went out at the other. But at last he answered, and said, 'Friend, this leechcraft, and to be healed thus, were very well if I were such a fiend as to betray her who is true to me. But I pray God, to the devil with such counsel! May I die at once on this spot ere I do as you would have me! She whom I serve, to whom my heart is given of right, shall have me as wholly hers till I die, whatsoever you say. What, Pandarus! Since I have promised her, I will be false to please no one, but as her man I will live and die, and never serve another creature. And when you say you will find another as fair as she,--let be, compare her not with any being formed here by nature. O my dear Pandarus, once and have done ! You shall never convince me with all this. Therefore I beg you hold your peace, - you slay me with your words. You bid me let Criseyde go, and get me another fresh new love. It lies not in my power, dear friend, and though I could I would not. And if you can play at rackets with love to and fro, handy-dandy now this, now that, then foul befall her that cares for your woe! You do by me, you Pandarus!, as one who comes a-walking to a man in pain and says, &quoy;Think not of pain and you shall feel none." You must first transmute me into a rock and take from me all my passions, before you can so lightly take my woe from me. So long this sorrow may delve and sap under my breast that death may well take my life from it. But Criseyde's arrow will nevermore out of my soul, and when I am dead I will go dwell in pains with Proserpine, and there I will eternally lament this woe, and how we two are parted. And then you made here an argument how it should he a less pain to forego Criseyde because she has truly been mine and we were together in ease and felicity. Why prate you so, who once said to me, "It is worse for him who is thrown out of weal than if he had never known that weal"? But tell me this: since it seems to you so light a thing to change ever to and fro in love, why have you not done your best to exchange her who has caused all your trouble? Why not let her slip out of your heart? Why not love another sweet lady, who may set your heart at ease? If you have ever had misadventure in love, yet cannot drive it from your heart, I who have lived in lustiness and joy as much as any man alive, how should I forget it, and that so soon? Where have you been cloistered so long, who argue with such formal logic? Nay, Pandarus, all your counsel is nothing worth, and finally, in spite of anything, I am doomed to death. Ah death, that art ended of every grief! come now, since I have called thee so often; for kindly is death when, often called, he comes and ends pain. Well I know that, whilst I lived in peace, I would have paid hire ere death should slay me; but now his coming is so sweet that naught on earth I long after more. O death, do thou either quench with thy cold stroke this heat of sorrow, or else drown me anon in tears. Thou ever slayest so many in divers manners, unsummoned, against their will, do me this service at my prayer. Deliver the world now of the wofullest wight that ever was, for it is time that I die who am useless in the world!'

And then Troilus distilled in tears like liquor out of an alembic. Pandarus held his peace and cast his eyes upon the ground; but at last he thought, 'What, perdy! Rather than my comrade die I will say somewhat more to him! Friend,' he began, ' since you are in such heavy case, yet are pleased to blame my arguments, why not gain redress yourself and by your own manhood stop all this vexation? Can you not carry her off? Shame on you! Either hold her here, or let her go and leave this foolish grief. Are you in Troy, yet have no hardihood to seize upon a woman who loves you and will herself be on your side? Now what a light-minded folly! Rise up and let be your weeping and show you are a man. Within this hour 1 will be dead or she shall remain with us!'

To this answered Troilus gently, 'Dear brother, of all this I myself have oft thought, and of more yet. But why it cannot be you shall hear; and when you have given me a hearing, then you may say all your mind. First, since the town has all this war for the violent ravishing of women, as you know, I should never be suffered to do so great a wrong. I should also be blamed of every wight if I so resisted my father's decree, since she is exchanged for the town's good. I have thought also, so she would assent, to ask her of my father's grace; then I thought, this were to accuse her, and to no purpose, since I know well I cannot gain her thus. For since my father has sealed her exchange ill so high a place as parliament, he will not take back his word for me. Most of all I dread to trouble her heart by violent acts if I do such a thing; if I should do it openly, it must be slander to her reputation, and I would rather die than defame her. God forbid that I should not hold her honor dearer than my life! Thus for aught that I can see, I am lost; for Certainly being her knight, I must hold her honor dearer than myself in every case. Thus I am pulled betwixt desire and reason; desire counsels me to trouble her, and reason and dread will not.' So, weeping as if he could never leave off, he said, 'Alas, how shall wretched I fare! I feel my love and the causes of my woe ever increase, Pandarus, and hope is ever less and less. Alack and alack! why will my heart not burst? In love is little heart's ease!'

'Brother, for all me,' quoth Pandarus, 'you may do as you will. But if I had it so hot, and were of your rank, she should go with me. Though all the town cried out on this thing in chorus I should not care a groat for the noise. When men have shouted well, then let them whisper, for a wonder lasts never in town but nine nights! Consider not reasons so deeply and superfinely, but straightway help yourself. It is better that others weep than yourself, and most of all since you two are become one. Be found a little to blame rather than die here like a gnat, without any hurt. Rise up,--by my head, she shall not go! it is no ravishment nor a sin, in my mind, to detain her who loves you most of all. Peradventure she may hold you for a fool, thus to let her go to the Greek camp. Consider also, as you well know,

"That Fortune helps the hardy in's emprise,
And flees from wretches for their cowardice."

Though your lady might be a little vexed, hereafter full well you shall make your peace, but as for me I truly cannot believe that even now she could take it ill. Why then should your heart quake in fear? Think how Paris your brother has his love- then why should not you have yours? And, Troilus, one thing I dare swear to you. If Criseyde your beloved loves you as well as you love her, before God she will not take it ill though you bring remedy to this mischief. And if she is willing to pass forth from you, then she is false; so love her the less! Therefore take knightly heart, and think that for love every law is broken every day. Show now somewhat your courage and strength. Fear not, but have mercy on yourself. Let not this wretched woe gnaw upon your heart, but stake the world manly on the cast of the dice, and if you die as any, go to heaven! I will stand by you myself in this act, though I and all my kin at once should lie in the street like dead dogs, stricken through with many a wide, bloody wound. In every case you shall find me a friend. But if you wish to die here like a wretch, adieu, and the Devil have him who cares!'

At these words Troilus began to come to life. 'Gramercy, friend,' he said, ' I agree. But, in truth and finally though I should die otherwise, you cannot so spur me, nor pain so torment me, that I should plan to ravish her unless she herself wills it.'

'Be that as it may be,' answered Pandarus. 'But tell me then, you that have been grieving so, have you sounded her wishes?'

'Nay,' answered he.

'Whence this dismay then,' quoth Pandarus, 'when you know not that she will be ill-pleased to be carried off, since you have not been with her? Has some angel whispered it in your ear? Kiss up, then, as if nothing were amiss, wash your face and go to the king, or he may wonder why you are thus absent. You must by your prudence hoodwink him and the rest, or perchance he may send after you ere you are aware. In a word, dear brother, be of good cheer and let me work in this affair. For I shall so shape it that somehow and sometime this night you shall come to privy speech with your lady, and by her words and by her looks you shall full soon learn all her mind, and what is best to do. And now farewell, for on this I rest.'

The swift Rumor, which reports things false and true equally, was flown on ready wing through Troy from man to man, ever freshly telling this tale, how Calchas' bright-faced daughter was to be exchanged for Antenor by decree of parliament. Which tale as sooth as Criseyde had heard, caring nothing for her father at such a time, nor whether he lived or died, she heartily prayed Jupiter confound him who brought such a report! Anon she began to fear to ask any wight about it, lest it might be true, for all her heart and mind she had so utterly given to Troilus that all this world could not loosen her love nor cast him out of her heart, but she must be his as long as life should last. Thus she was so burning betwixt love and fear that she knew not what to do.

But as men see in towns everywhere that women will ever be a-visiting their friends, so a flock of women began to come to Criseyde, thinking to please leers and sat them down with their pathetic joy and with their prattle.

Said one first, 'I am truly glad for your sake, who are going to see your father.' 'In truth,' said another, 'so am not I, for it is too short a time that she has been with us.'

'I hope,' quoth the third, 'that she will bring in peace on both sides, and may God almighty conduct her when she goes!'

All this woman-like talk she heard no more than as if she were in another place. All the while, though her body sat amongst them, God wot her attention and her heart were elsewhere. Her soul was roaming after Troilus, and without a word she thought of him. And these women, thinking to please her, went on pouring out their tales about nothing. Such trivial things could bring no comfort to her who meanwhile was on fire with quite another feeling than they supposed; so that she felt her heart almost die within her for woe and for weariness of that company. Wherefore no longer could she restrain her welling tears, which gave signs of the bitter pain of her spirit, when she remembered from what heaven into what hell she was fallen, now that she must forego the sight of Troilus. When they heard her bitter sighs, those foolish women sitting about her supposed that she wept because she must leave that company, and never chat again with them that she had known so long. So when they saw her weep, they thought it kindness; and each of them began to weep too. Eagerly they began to comfort her for a thing of which, God wot!, she recked full little, and thought to divert her with their words and oft begged her to be of good cheer. Even so much comfort they wrought her therewith as a man is eased for an aching head by clawing him on the heel! . And after all this empty folly they all took leave and went home.

Criseyde, full of piteous sorrow, went up out of the hall into her chamber and fell on her couch nigh dead, in full purpose never to rise thence; and she began to demean her as I shall tell you. The salt tears from her two eyes ran out as a shower in April. She beat her white breast, cried a thousand times after deathly and held herself for a lost creature, because she must forego him who alone was wont to lighten her woe. she tore her wavy hair of sunnish hue, full often wrung her long and slender fingers, and prayed God of His mercy to cure her ills by death. Her pale hue, once so bright, bore witness of her woe and stress, and thus she spoke sobbing:

'Alas! Woeful wretch, luckless being, born under a cursed constellation, I must go from this place and part from my knight. Woe worth that day when I first saw him with my two eyes, and above all else woe worth that evening; which cause me, as I him, all this pain! What will he do? What shall I do, how shall I live if I part from him? Dear heart that I love so, who shall do away the sorrow that thou art in now? O father Calchas, be this crime at thy door, and cursed be the day when Argiva bore me of her body to be a living soul! To what purpose live I in such sorrow? What is Criseyde worth apart from Troilus? How should a fish last without water, or a plant or other creature without its natural food? Wherefore full oft I have heard the byword, "Earthless, green things soon die." Thus I shall do: since I dare not handle sword or dart, for their cruelty, from that day I leave thee (if the sorrow of that kill me not) no meat or drink shall come in me, till my soul is unsheathed out of my breast, and thus I shall slay myself. And Troilus, all my vesture shall be black, in token that I who was wont to possess thee in peace, dear heart, am as one withdrawn from worldly life; and till death meet me, my convent-rules shall ever be sorrow, lament and abstinence. I bequeathed my heart and the woeful ghost therein to complain eternally with thy spirit, for they shall never part. Though on earth we two be parted, yet in those cons passionate fields where Pluto reigns, and where is no torment shall we be together, as Orpheus is with Eurydice his mate Alas, dear heart, thus for Antenor I shall soon be given up; But how shalt thou fare in this woful case,-how shall thy tender heart support it? Forget this sorrow, my love, and me also; for in sooth, so thou farest well, I care not that I die!'

How could the plaints that she made in her distress ever be all read or sung? I wot not, and, as for me, if I could describe all her grief, my little pen should make it seem less than it was and childishly deface her noble sorrow. Therefore I pass it by.

Ye have heard me tell how it was agreed that Pandarus should be sent from Troilus to Criseyde; and so he came full secretly to tell his message, where she lay in torment and in frenzy, and using herself in piteous wise. He found her breast and face bathed full wet with her salt tears, her mighty tresses unbraided and her sunnish hair hanging all about her ears, which gave him a true sign of the torment of death that she was longing for. When she saw him, she began for shame to hide her tearful face in her arms, at which Pandarus was so woe-begone and so steeped in pity that he scarce could remain in the chamber. For if at first she had wailed bitterly, now she began to wail a thousand times more.

'Mine uncle Pandarus,' she began, betwixt her sobs, 'was the great first cause of many a joy to me, which is now transmuted into cruel woe. And I now to welcome you or not, who first brought me into the service of love which, alas! is ending thus? finds love, then, in woe? Yea, or men lie, and so does every earthly joy, methinks. Sorrow ever occupies the end of bliss, and whose believes it not let him look on me, woful wretch, that hate myself and curse my birth, feeling myself pass from grief to desperation. Whoso sees me, sees at once sorrow and pain, torment, lament and wee; there is no harm lacking to my woful body,--anguish, cruel bitterness, languor, annoy, smart, dread, fury and sickness. I trow verily tears rain down from heaven in pity of my bitter suffering.'

'You my distressful sister,' quoth Pandarus, 'what think thou to do? Have you no regard for yourself? Why will you destroy yourself, alas! Leave all this sorry work and take heed to what I shall say, and hearken meekly to the message which I bring from your Troilus!'

Criseyde turned her then, making such lament that it was death to behold. 'Alas! what words,' quoth she, 'can you bring? What can my dear heart says whom I fear nevermore to see? Will he have a shower of tears from me before I go? I have enough, if it is that he sends after!'

She was such to look upon in her visage as one swathed and carried on a bier. Her face, once the image of Paradise, was now changed into quite another sort; the sportiveness, the laughter and every other joyous trait that men were wont to find in her were all fled, she lay deserted by them all. Her two eyes were encircled by purple rings, in true tokening of her pain, so that it was a deathly sight to behold. Wherefore Pandarus could not restrain his tears from pouring down. But nevertheless as best he could he repeated the message of Troilus.

'Niece, I trow well you have heard how the king with other lords have thought it best to make an exchange of Antenor and you, which is the cause of all our disquiet and woe. How this thing pains Troilus no man's tongue on earth can all, for his final resolve is to die. Wherefore we have so grieved, he and I, that it has wellnigh slain us both, but through my counsel he has at last somewhat given over his tears; and I believe he would fain be with you this night, to devise a remedy in this, if there might be any. This, in short and plain, is the substance of my message as my wit can best express it, for you who are in such a frenzy of torment can attend to no long preamble. So hereto you may return an answer;--and for the love of God, dear niece, leave this woe ere Troilus come!'

'Why woe is great enough,' said she, and sighed sorely as one in deadly sharp distress, 'and yet to me his sorrow is much worse, who love him better than he loves himself, I trow. Alas! has he such heaviness for me, complains he so piteously for me? How truly his sorrow doubles mine! God wot it is grievous to me to part but yet harder it is to see him in such woe. Well I wot it will be my bane, and die I truly will!--But bid him come,' she cried, 'before death that threatens me now drive out the spirit which flutters in nay heart.' And with these words she fell prone on her two arms, and began to weep piteously.

'Alas!' said Pandarus; 'why do you thus when you know the time is hard by when he shall come? Rise up quietly, that he find you not thus tear-stained, unless you would have him fly out of his mind; for if he knew that you fare thus, he would kill himself, and if I expected all this gear, he should not come hither for all the wealth of Priam, for what purpose he would straightway form I know full well. Wherefore I say again, let be this sorrow, or, flatly, he will die; and plan to diminish and not increase his sorrow, dear sweet niece. Heal him, wound him not more; by some prudent plan cure his sorrow. What boots it to weep a street-full, or for you both to drown in salt tears? A time of cure is ever better than a time of lament. This is what I mean: when I bring him hither, do you two wise ones with one accord devise how to upset this exchange, or for you to come again straightway after you have gone. Women are cunning at hasty planning. Let see how your wit shall serve you, and what l can do to help shall not be wanting!'

'Go,' quoth she, 'and truly uncle, I will do my best to refrain my tears in his sight, and to cheer him I shall do all my best and search every nook of me heart. If salve may be found for this sore, it shall not be wanting through my fault, I promise you .'

Pandarus departed and sought for Troilus, till he found him all alone in a temple, caring no longer for life. He was making moan and praying full tenderly to each of the pitiful gods to let him pass soon out of the world. That there was no other favor for him he thought full well, and (to say it all in few words) he was so fallen in despair that he was utterly resolved to die. For thus was ever hiss argument; and said, 'I am utterly lost, alack the while! For all things that hap, come by necessity; thus it is my destiny to be lost. For certainly I wot well that divine Providence has ever foreseen that I should lose Criseyde, since there is no doubt that God foresees all things, and ordains and disposes them to he as they have deserved to be. 'But nevertheless whom shall I believe, alas! For though there be many a great clerk that proves foreordination by arguments, some men say that naught comes of necessity; but that free choice is granted every one of us. Alackaday! So cunning are ancient clerks I know not whose opinion to hold. For some men say, if God foresees everything,--and God cannot be deceived, perdy! --then that must befall, though men had sworn it should not, which Providence has foreseen. Wherefore I say that, if from eternity He has known our thoughts and deeds, then even as these clerks declare we have no free choice. For other thoughts or deeds could never come to pass but such as infallible Providence has all-wisely foreseen. For if there might be a chance to twist our way out from God's foreknowledge, then there were no prescience in God, but rather only an uncertain expectation; and certes it were blasphemy to believe that God has no more perfect and clear knowledge than we men, who have doubtful conjecturings. But it were false and foul and wicked cursedness to fancy in God such a possibility of erring.

'Also this is an opinion of some whose crowns are shorn full high and smooth, that things come not because Providence has foreseen them, but that because things are to come, therefore Providence all-wisely foresees them. Therefore in this opinion the necessity passes in the opposite direction. For the necessity is not that what is foreseen must surely befall, but (as they say) that what befalls must all surely have been foreseen. Herein I am inquiring diligently which thing is the cause of which,-- God's prescience the cause of the necessity of things to come, or the necessity of things to come the cause of the prescience. But though I strive not further to show in what order the causes stand, I know full well that things foreknown must certainly befall, even if it follow not therefrom that it was the foreknowledge which made the befalling necessary.

'For if a man be sitting yonder on a seat, then certes your belief that he is sitting must needs be true; and even as true must be the converse, that, if your belief be true because he is sitting, then he must needs be sitting. And thus there is necessity on either side, in him necessity of sitting and in you necessity of rightness. But, you may say, the man sits not because the man was already sitting, therefore your belief is true, in faith. And I say, though your belief be true because of his sitting, yet there is interchange of necessity between him and you.

'Thus in the same wise, as it seems to me, I may frame my reasoning on God's providence and on things to come; by which reasoning men may well see that those things which betide on earth come all by necessity. For although it be true that because a thing is to come it is foreseen, and not that it be to come he cause it is foreseen; yet nevertheless one of the two must be true, that a thing to come must needs be foreseen, or else a thing foreseen betides of necessity, which in truth suffices utterly to destroy our free choice. But now it is absurd to say that the be falling of temporal things is cause of God's eternal prescience--- truly that were a false conclusion. What were such a thought but to believe that God foresees things to come only because they are to come, and that all things which have whilom befallen have been the cause of that sovereign providence which infallibly foreknows all things? Even as when I know there is a thing that thing must needs be so, right so when I know a thing as coming, come it must. And thus the befalling of things known before the time cannot be escaped by any path.' And then he ended, 'Almighty Jove upon thy throne, who knowest the truth about all this, pity my sorrow and let me die straightway, or else bring Criseyde and me out of our trouble!'

Whilst he was in this heaviness, disputing with himself in this matter, Pandarus came in. 'O mighty God upon Thy throne!' quoth he: 'Eh! who ever saw a wise man demean him so! Why, Troilus! Have you such pleasure to be your own enemy, --what think you to do? Criseyde is not gone yet, perdy! Why allow fear so to destroy you that your eyes seem dead in your visage? Lived you not all your life before without her, and fared full well and at ease? Were you born for her and none other? Did Nature fashion you only to please her? Can you not think thus in your trouble, that as chances fall in dice, so there come and go pleasures in love? And this is my chiefest wonder, why not sorrow thus when you know not yet how her going shall be, nor have you yet tested her wit, whether she can herself avert it. It is time then for a man to sorrow at the hard necessity and to offer his neck, when his head must off.

'Therefore take heed what I say. I have been with her long a-talking even as you and I agreed, and it has evermore seemed to me that she has somewhat in the privity of her heart wherewith, if I see aright, she can put a stop to all this thing of which you are in dread. Wherefore my counsel is that you go to her at night and make an end of this. Of her great might blessed Juno I hope will send her grace to us. My heart says, "Certainly she shall not go." Therefore let your heart repose a while and be constant; that is best.'

'You say right well,' Troilus answered, sighing sore, 'and I will do even so.' And then he said to him what more he would.

When it was time to go, he came alone full privily to her, as he was wont. And how they did I will tell you straightway. It is the truth that when they first came together, the sorrow so wrung their hearts that neither could salute the other, but could only embrace and softly kiss. Whichever had least woe knew not what to do nor could bring out a word, for woful sobbing. The tears which they let fall were as bitter, beyond the manner of tears, as aloes or gall. The woful Myrrha, as I find written in books, wept not through her bark tears so bitter; there is not so hard a heart in all this world that would not have felt compassion.

But when their two weary spirits returned to their proper seats, and by length of sobbing the pain began somewhat to grow dull, and the spring of bitter tears to ebb, and their swelling hearts to subside, Criseyde spoke thus, with broken voice all hoarse with crying: 'O Jove, I die! Mercy, I beg! Help, Troilus!' Therewith her woeful spirit was on the point of flitting from its home, and she laid her face upon his breast and lost the power of speech.

Thus she lay with that hue all lived which once was the freshest and fairest ever seen; as he gazed upon her, calling her name, she lay as dead, answerless, her limbs all cold and her eyes rolled upward, and the sorrowful man could think of naught to do save often to kiss her cold mouth. God Himself knows that he was woeful! He arose and stretched her out at length; for aught that he could find, there was no sign of life in her. Full often his song was, 'Alas! Alas!' When he saw how she lay speechless, with sorrowful voice and joyless heart he said to himself that she was gone from this world. After he had bewailed her long, wrung his hands, said what he could not but say, and besprinkled his breast with salt tears, then he began to wipe his tears off full dry and with piteous devotion to pray for her soul, and said 'Lord, upon Thy throne, have pity also on me, for I must shortly follow her!'

She was all cold and without feeling, so far as he could tell and he could feel no breath, which to him was a faithful sign that she was gone forth out of this world. And when he saw that there was no other resource, he disposed her limbs in such a fashion as men do for folk that are to be laid on bier. And then with stern and savage heart he plucked his sword out of its sheath to slay himself, whatever agony it might cost; so that his soul might follow hers where the decree of Minos should place it, since love and cruel Fortune would not that he should live longer in this world.

'O cruel Jove, and thou, hostile Fortune,' he said, filled with high scorn, 'I can say no otherwise than that ye have falsely slain Criseyde; and since ye can do no worse to me, fie on your might and your works so perverse! Ye shall never speed against me in so cowardly wise, --no death shall part me from my lady! For since ye have slain her thus, I will leave this world and hasten forth after her spirit. Never shall a lover say that Troilus durst not for fear die with his lady; in very truth I will bear her company. But since we will not suffer us to live here, yet suffer our souls to be together. And thou, city that I leave thus wofully, thou, Priam, and my mother and all my brethren, farewell, for I go! Atropos, make thou ready my bier! --And thou Criseyde, sweet dear heart, receive my spirit now--,' he was about to say, his sword at his heart, all ready for death.

But, as God would have it, thereupon she awoke from he swoon, began to sigh, and 'Troilus!' she cried.

'Criseyde, my heart, live you yet?' he answered, and let his sword slip downward.

'Yea, my heart, thanks be to Cyprian Venus!' quoth she. And then she sighed sorely, and he began to comfort her as he could, took her in his two arms and often kissed her, and did all his best to cheer her; wherefore her spirit, which was fluttering at her lips, went again softly into her heart. At last, as her eye glanced around, she espied his sword lying bare, and cried out for fear and asked why he had drawn it. Troilus straight-away told the cause and how he would have slain himself; for which Criseyde gazed upon him, and folded him fast in her arms, saying, 'Ah mercy, God! What an act! Alas, how nearly we were both dead! Then if I had not spoken, as good hap willed, you would anon have slain yourself?'

'Yea, without doubt,' quoth he.

'Alas!' she answered, 'by the Lord that made me, I would not have lived an hour after your death, to be crowned queen of all the land the bright sun shines on, but with this very sword lying here I should have slain myself.-But stay,' she said, 'for we have had enough of this. Now let us rest ourselves together and speak of our trouble, for by the night-light burning there I see well that day is not far hence.'

When they were set down together, folded in each other's arms it was not as at times before; each gazed piteously on the other as one that had lost all his joy, saying 'Alas that they were born!': till at last woful Criseyde said to Troilus, 'Lo! my heart, you well know this, that if a wight be ever complaining his woe and seek not how to be helped, it is merely folly, and increase to his trouble. Since we two are come together here to find a remedy, it is time to begin straightway. I am a woman, you know full well, and as I have formed a plan suddenly, I will tell it you whilst it is hot! Methinks neither you nor I ought in reason to make half this to-do, for there are ways enough to redress what is amiss, and to slay this gloom. I suppose our woe is for nothing else than because we must part. Considering all, we shall find nothing else amiss. But what remedy is there here except that we lay our plans soon to meet again? I his is the conclusion of the whole matter, dear sweet heart! Now that I shall guide things so that I shall return soon after I have gone, thereof I have no manner of doubt. Certainly within a week or two I shall be here; and that it can be so I will show you a multitude of ways in few words. I will not make a long discourse for time lost can never be recovered, but I will go right to my conclusion. And forgive it me, for God's love, if I speak aught against your heart's repose, for truly I say it for the best; and I protest that this thing which I shall say is only to show you my purpose to find the best way to help us, and I beg you to take it no otherwise, for, in fine, what so you command me that I will do; of that there is no question.

'Now hearken: you know full well that my going is so fully decreed by parliament that I judge it cannot be annulled by all the world. And since no plan to hinder it can help us, let that pass out of mind, and let us devise a better way. True it is that our parting will trouble and cruelly distress us, but he that serves Love must sometimes have pains if he would have joy. And since I am to go no farther from the city than I can ride back in half a morning, it ought to cause us the less sorrow. I shall not be so mewed up that, since you well know there is now a truce, you shall not full well learn of my estate from day to day, my own dear heart. And before the truce is over I shall be here and thus you will have won both Antenor and me also. Strive now to be of good cheer, and think, "Criseyde is gone now, but what! she will speedily return."'

'And when, alas!'

'Right shortly, by heaven. Before ten days, I dare be bound. And then straightway you will be so fain because we shall evermore be together, that the whole world could not tell our joy. Often, as we are now, to hide our secret, we have found it best that you speak not with me for a whole fortnight nor I with you, nor even see you in the street. Can you not then wait ten days in such a case to save my honor? if not, in faith you can bear little!

'You know too how all my kin are here, save only my father, and also all else that is mine, and especially you, dear heart, whom I would not cease to see for all this world, wide as it is! if this be false, may I never behold Jove's face in heaven! Why, believe you that my father so craves to see me thus, except for fear lest folk in this town despise me for his unhappy act? What knows he of the life which I lead? If he knew how well I fare in Troy, we should not be grieving over my departure.

'You see too that every day more and more men treat of peace, and it is supposed that men shall give back queen Helen, and that the Greeks shall amend that wherein they have injured us. So though there were no other comfort than that on every side men are proposing peace, you may dwell in the more ease of heart. For if there be peace, dear heart, of necessity men must commune together and ever be riding and walking to and fro as thick as bees fly from a hive, and every wight have liberty to remain where he will, without leave. And though there he no peace, yet hither I must return; for whither should I go, or how (a plague !) should I remain there ever in fright amongst those men of arms? Wherefore, so may God help me, I cannot see what you should fear.

'Here is another way, if so be all this suffice you not. My father is old, as you know well, and age is full of covetousness; and I have hut now found a way to catch him without a net! Listen now, and see if you will assent. Men say, Troilus, that it is hard to have the wolf full and the wether whole; this is to say! men full oft must spend part to save the remnant. Ever with gold men may impress the heart of him that is set on covetousness. How I mean it I will tell you. I will take to my father the goods which I have in this town, and say they are sent in trust from a friend or two of his to save them; which friends fervently pray him to send in haste after more, whilst the town stands thus in jeopardy And that shall be a huge amount, I shall tell him. But lest folk should espy it, this may be sent by none but me. I shall also show him how many friends I have near the court, if peace betide, to mollify the wrath of Priam and bring him back to grace.

'So, what for one thing and what for another, I shall so bespell him with my words, sweet one, that he shall stream his soul is right in heaven! For Apollo and the doctrine of his clerks avail not three haws! Desire of gold shall so dazzle his soul that I shall make an end as I list. And if he shall inquire by his augury if I lie, I shall verily contrive to disturb him and pluck him by the sleeve making his augury, or persuade him that he has not well understood the gods; for the gods speak in equivocations, and for one truth they tell twenty lies. And it was fear first invented gods, I suppose (this is what I shall say to him), and it was his coward heart made him construe the gods' text amiss when he fled from his Delphi in fear. If I make him not speedily to turn about, and do as I will within a day or two I pledge myself to die!'

And truly, as I find it written, all this was said with sincerity and good intent, and her heart was true and loving towards him, and she nigh died for woe when she left him and purposed ever to be faithful; thus they write that knew of her deeds.

With eager ear and heart Troilus heard all this debated to and fro, and verily it seemed to him he was of the same mind; yet evermore his heart misgave him, as to letting her go. But final he made shift so to turn his heart as to trust her and make the best of it. Wherefore the great fury of his pain was quenched with hope, and they began their old joyous endearments. As the birds, when the sun is bright, delight ill their song amongst the green leaves, the words that they spoke together delighted them and cleared their hearts.

But nevertheless, in spite of all, the going of Criseyde would not out of his mind, and full often he prayed her piteously that he might find her true of heart. 'Certes, if you are unkind,' he said, 'and if you return not on the day set, I shall never again have health or honor or joy! For as truly as the sun rises in the morning, and so surely may God bring me, woful wretch out of this cruel sorrow to rest, I will slay myself if you tarry I Though there be little to care about in my death, yet, rather than cause me to suffer so, remain here my own dear heart it For truly the sleights that I hear you plan are full likely to fail altogether. Thus men say "the bear thinks one thing, but his leader quite another"! Your sire is wise, and it is said,

"Men may outrun but not outwit the wise."

It is full hard to limp undetected before a cripple, for he understands the art! In trickery your father is eyed as Argus, for albeit he is bereft of his goods, his old craft so remains with him that for all your woman's art you shall not blind him nor feign aught, and that is all my dread.

'I know not if peace will ever come. But peace or no peace, for Jest or earnest, since Calchas has once been on the Greek side and so foully lost his honor, he will dare come here no more for shame. Wherefore to hope that way, for aught that I can see, is but a fantasy. You shall see also your father will cajole you to marry, and he can preach so well, and will so commend and praise some Greek, that he will relish you with his words or force you to do as he will. And Troilus, for whom he will have no pity, will die in his fidelity! Besides all this, your father will despise us all and say this city is as good as lost and that the siege will never be raised, because all the Greeks have sworn to maintain it till Vile are slain and our walls overthrown. Thus he will affright you, and ever I fear that you will remain. And also you will see so many a lusty knight amongst the valiant Greeks, and each will be so diligent with heart, wit and might to please you, that you will weary of the rudeness of us simple Trojans, unless pity sting you, or sense of fidelity. And that is so grievous a thought to me that it will send the soul from my breast. Of a surety I can look for naught but evil if you go. Your father's craft will ruin us. If you go, as I have told you already, think that I am a dead man, without help.

'Wherefore with heart piteous, true and humble I cry you mercy a thousand times. Pity my bitter pains and contrive to do as I would have you. Let us steal away, we two alone. Think how it is folly, when a man has his choice, to lose the substance for the show. I mean thus: since we can well steal off before day and be together so, what sort of wit were it to put it to the test, in case you should go to your father, whether you can return again or no? I mean it were a great foolishness to put this sureness into jeopardy. To speak in a homely wise of goods and wealth, we both can carry with us enough to live upon in honor and pleasure till the day of our death. Thus we can escape this fear; and whatever other way you can speak of, in truth my heart misgives me. Be assured you need dread no poverty, for I have elsewhere kin and friends, so that, though we came in our bare shirts, we should lack for neither gold nor goods, but be held in honor as long as we dwelt there. Let us go straightway, for in my mind this is the best, if you assent.'

With a sigh Criseyde answered him in this wise, 'Truly, my dear faithful heart, we may shall steal away as you describe, or find such sorry new ways; but full sore shall we repent it afterwards. So may God help me in my hour of greatest need, as you suffer all this fear without cause. For on that day when I am false to your my Troilus, my knight, for dread of my father or any other man, or because men cherish me or offer marriage or station or pleasure, may Saturn's daughter Juno by her power cause me, as mad as Athamas, to abide eternally in Styx, the pit of hell! And this I swear to you by every celestial god and every goddess, on every infernal deity, on every nymph and faun and satyr great at small (which be half-gods of the wilderness) ! And let Atropos snap my thread of life if I be false! Now doubt me if you will! And thou, Simois, that like a clear arrow ever runnest through Troy downward to the sea, bear witness of this word, that, on the day when I am untrue to Troilus, my own noble heart, thou return backward to thy source, and I sink body and soul in hell!

'But as to what you speak of, to go away thus and abandon all your friends, God forbid you should do so for any womanly sake, and above all since Troy has now such need of help! Take heed of one thing, --if this were known, my life and your honor should lie in the balance. God shield us from such disaster! And if so be peace be made hereafter (as ever, after distress, comes mirth), --why, Lord! what sorrow and woe ; --you would be in because you durst not for shame return! Ere you so jeopardize your honor, be not too hasty and eager in this business: sorrow is never wanting to the hasty man. What trow you the people all around would say of you? It is full easy to divine. They would say, and swear to it, that not love but voluptuous pleasure and coward dread drove you to this deed; thus your honor, which now shines so bright, were wholly lost, dear heart. And also think on my fair name, which still is green; how foully I should disgrace it, and spot it with what filth, if I should depart with you in this wise! Though I lived to the end of the world I should never win it back. Thus I were wholly lost, and that were pity and sin.

'Therefore put down all this heat by reason. "Patience conquers," men say. Be not penny-wise pound-foolish, but make a virtue of necessity. Be patient, and think that he is ever lord of fortune that cares not a rush for her, and that she daunts no wight but a craven. trust to this, dear heart, that ere Phoebus' sister bright Lucina, which is now in the Ram, pass out of the Lion, I will be here, without any doubt. I mean, and so may Juno, queen of heaven, help me!, that the tenth day, unless death assail me, I shall see you.'

'And now,' quoth Troilus, 'if that be true, I will make shift to suffer to the tenth day, since I see it must needs be. --But for the love of God, let us steal privily away, if it may be so, forever alike my heart says it will be the best for us to live in quiet peace.'

'O mercy, God, what a life this is! ' quoth she. 'Alas, you slay me for very grief! I see well now that you mistrust me, for by your words it is now clear. Now for the love of bright Cynthia and in pity for me, mistrust me not thus without cause, Since I have plighted you my troth to be faithful. Think well that sometimes it is wisdom to let one occasion go, to gain another. I am not yet lost to you though we be a day or two apart! Drive out these fancies from your head, trust me and let go your grief, or by my troth I will not live till morning. For if you knew how sore it pains me, you would have done; God knows the very spirit in my heart weeps to see you weep that I love most, and because I must go to the Greek camp. Yea, were it not that I know a way to come again, I would die even here. But certes I am not so foolish a wight that I cannot imagine a means to return the day that I have promised. Who can hold back what will away? Not my father, for all his cunning gear! By my thrift, my departure shall another day turn us all to Joy.

'Therefore I beseech you with all my heart, if you list to do aught at my prayer and for the love with which I love you too, that before I leave you I may see you of so good cheer and comfort that you may put my heart at rest which is now a-bursting. And besides this, my own heart's true sufficiency, since I am wholly yours, I pray you that whilst I am absent no delight in another put me from your remembrance. I am ever afeared, for, as men declare,

"Love is a thing ay full of busy dread."

For if you should be untrue (which God forbid!), no lady lives in this world who were so betrayed or woe-begone as I, who believe all faithfulness in you. Of a surety, if I believed otherwise, I were no better than dead. Unless you find cause, for God's love be not unkind to me!'

'God, from whom no thought is hidden, grant me joy,' answered Troilus, 'as surely as never, since the day I first cast these eyes on her, was I false to Criseyde or shall be till I die! In few words, well may you trust me! I can say no more, it shall be found indeed at the test.'

'Gramercy indeed, my best lover, ' quoth she; 'and may blessed Venus let me never die till I may stand at a point of happiness to requite him well who deserves so well! Whilst God leaves me my wit, I shall so act that honor shall be reflected back on me, I have found you so true! For trust well that neither vain delight, nor yet your royal estate, nor only your valor in war or martial tourney, nor your pomp or splendor nobility or wealth, made me take pity on your distress, but your moral virtue, founded upon your faithfulness,-that was the cause why I first had pity on you. And your gentle heart and man hood, and that I believed you held in despite all that tended to ill, such as roughness and vulgar desires, and that your reason bridled your pleasures,-this gave me over to you more than to any other creature, to hold for life. And this may not be spoiled by length of years or changeful Fortune.

'But may Jupiter, who of his might can make the sorrowful glad, grant us the boon to meet here again ere ten days, that it may content your heart and mine. And now farewell, for it is time that you were up and away!'

After they had long lamented, and had often kissed and been folded in each other's arms, the day began to rise and Troilus prepared to go, and looked ruefully upon his lady, feeling the cold pains of death, and commended him to her grace. Whether he was woful I need not ask! For the mind of man cannot imagine, nor understanding consider, nor tongue tell, the cruel pains of this hapless lover, which passed every infernal torment. When he saw that she could not remain who was rending his soul out of his heart, without anything more he went from the chamber.

Explicit Liber Quartus.

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