Wol vouche-saufe this letre to beholde;
And by the cause ek of my cares colde,
That sleth my wit, if ought amys masterte,
Foryeve it me, myn owen swete herte.

CXCIII.

[Yf any servaunt durst, or aught aryght
Upon hys lady pitously compleyne,
Than wene I that I oughte be that whyght;
Considered thys, that ye thys monethes tweyne
Han taryed, there ye seyde, sothe to seyne,
But dayes ten ye nolde in hoste sojourne;
But in two monethes yit ye not retourne.

1350

CXCIV.

'And, for as moche as me mote nedys lyke
Alle that you lust, I dar not pleyne more,
But humbly, wyth sorowful sykes syke,
You write I myn unresty sorowes sore;
Fro day to day, desiring evermore

To knowen fully, yif youre wille it were,

How ye han ferde and don while ye ben there.

CXCV.

The whos welfare and hele eke God encrece

In honour suche, that upward in degré

Hit grow alwey, soo that it never cese,
Ryght as your herte ay can, my lady fre,
Devise, I prey to Gode so mote it be,
And graunt it, soone that ye upon me rewe,
As wisly as in al I am unto you trewe.

1360

CXCVI.

'And yf it lyke yow to knowen of the fare
Of me, whos woo ther may no wyght discryve,
I can no more, but cheste of every care,
At wrytyng of thys letre I was on lyve,
Al redy oute my wooful gost to dryve,
Wych I delay, and holde hym yit in honde,
Upon the syght of matere of youre sonde.

CXCVII.

Myn eyen twoo, in veyne wyth wych I see,
Of sorowfule terys salte ar woxen welles;
My songe in pleynt of myn adversité,

My good in harme, myn ese eke woxen helle is,
My joye in wo; I can sey you nought ellys,
But tournede is, for wych my lyf I warye,
Every joye or ese in hys contrarie.

CXCVIII.

1370

'Wych with your commyng hom ayen to Troye Ye may redresse, and, more a thousand sithe, 1381 Than ever I hade, encrecen in me joye;

For was ther never herte yit so blithe

To have hys lyf, as I shal ben as swyth

As I you see; and though no manere routhe
Com in to you, yit thenkyth on youre trouthe.

CXCIX.

'And yef so be my gilt dethe have deserved,
Or yf you lust no more upon me see,
In guerdon yit of that I have you served,

Beseche I you, myn owne lady free,
That herupon ye wolde write me,
For love of Gode, my ryghte lodestere,
That dethe may make an ende of al my were.

1390

CC.

If other cause aught dothe you for to dwelle, Than with youre letre ye may me reconforte; For though to me youre absence is an helle, Wyth pacience Y wyl my woo conforte,

And with youre letre of hope I wyl disporte : Now writeth, swete, and lat me thus not pleyne; Wyth hope, or dethe, delivereth me from peyne.

CCI.

Iwys, myn oune dere herte trewe,

I wote that whan ye next upon me se,
So lost have I myn hele and eke myn hewe,

Criseyde shal not conne knowe me ;

Iwys, myn hertes day, my lady fre,

Soo thrusteth ay myn herte to beholde
Your beauté, that unnethe my lyf I holde.

1401

CCII,

'I sey no more, al have I for to seye To you wel more than I tellen may;

But whether that ye do me lyve or deye,

Yit prey I Gode so yeve you ryght gode day;
And fareth wel, godely feyre fresshe may,
As she that lyf or deth me may comaunde,
And to your trouthe ay I me recomaunde.

1410

6

CCIII.

Wyth hele swych, but that ye yeven me
The same hele, I shal noon hele have;

In you lieth, whan you list that it so be,
The day on wyche me clothen shal my grave;
In you my lif, in youre myght for to save
Me fro disese of alle peynes smerte;

1420

And fare now wele, myn owne swete herte! 'Le vostre T.'

CCIV.

Thys letre forth was sent unto Criseyde,
Of wych hir answere in effect was thys :-
Ful pitously she wrote ayen and seyde,
That al so sone as that she myght ywys,
She wolde come, and mende that was amys;
And finally, she wrote hym and seyde thanne,
She wolde come, ye, but she nyste whanne.]

CCV.

But in hire letre made she swich feeste,

1480

That wonder was, and swerth she loveth hym beste, Of which he fonde but botmeles biheste.

But Troilus thou mayst now, est or weste,

Pipe in an ivy leefe, if that the leste.

Thus goth the world; God shilde us fro meschaunce, And every wight that meneth trouthe avaunce!

CCVI.

Encressen gan the wo fro day to nyght
Of Troilus, for tarynge of Criseyde;
And lessen gan his hope and ek his myght,

For which al doun he in his bed hym leyde; 1440
He ne ete, ne dronk, ne slepe, ne worde seyde,
Ymagynynge ay that she was unkynde,
For which wel neigh he wex out of his mynde.

CCVII.

This dreme, of which I tolde have ek biforne,
May nevere come out of his remembraunce;
He thought ay wel he had his lady lorne,
And that Joves, of his purveiaunce,

Hym shewed hadde in slepe the signifiaunce
Of hire untrouth, and his disaventure,

And that the boor was shewed hym in figure. 1450

CCVIII.

For which he for Sibille his suster sente,
That called was Cassandre al aboute,
And al his dreme he told hire or he stente,
And hire bysought assoylen hym the doute
Of the stronge boor, with tuskes stoute;
And finaly, withinne a litel stounde,

Cassandre bygan right thus his dreme expounde.

She

CCIX.

gan first smyle, and seyde, 'Brother dere, If thow a soth of this desirest knowe,

Thow most a fewe of olde stories here,

To purpos how that fortune overthrowe

1460

Hath lordes olde, thorwgh which withinne a throwe Thow wel this boor shalt know, and of what kynde He comen is, as men in bokes fynde.