But for the love of god, at my preyinge,
Go henne a-way, for certes, my deyinge
Wol thee disese, and I mot nedes deye;
Ther-for go wey, ther is no more to seye.
It is not so, and ther-for scorne nought;
Ther is a-nother thing I take of hede
Wel more than ought the Grekes han y-wrought,
Which cause is of my deeth, for sorwe and thought,
But though that I now telle thee it ne leste. 580
Be thou nought wrooth, I hyde it for the beste.’
Ful often seyde, ‘allas! what may this be?
Now freend,’ quod he, ‘if ever love or tronthe
Hath been, or is, bi-twixen thee and me,
Ne do thou never swiche a crueltee 586
To hyde fro thy freend so greet a care;
Wostow nought wel that it am I, Pandare?
If it be so I do thee no comfort, 590
As it is freendes right, sooth for to seyne,
To entreparten wo, as glad desport.
I have and shal, for trewe or fals report,
In wrong and right y-loved thee al my lyve; 594
Hyd not thy wo fro me, but telle it blyve.’
And seyde him thus, ‘god leve it be my beste
To telle it thee; for, sith it may thee lyke,
Yet wole I telle it, though myn herte breste; 599
And wel wot I thou mayst do me no reste.
But lest thow deme I truste not to thee,
Now herkne, freend, for thus it stant with me.
Him-selven most, him alder-lest avayleth,
With desespeir so sorwfully me offendeth,
That streyght un-to-the deeth myn herte sayleth. 606
Ther-to desyr so brenningly me assaylleth,
That to ben slayn it were a gretter joye
To me than king of Grece been and Troye!
That I have seyd, for now wostow my wo;
And for the love of god, my colde care 612
So hyd it wel, I telle it never to mo;
For harmes mighte folwen, mo than two,
If it were wist; but be thou in gladnesse,
And lat me sterve, unknowe, of my distresse.’ 616
Hid this fro me, thou fool?’ quod Pandarus;
‘Paraunter thou might after swich oon longe,
That myn avys anoon may helpen us.’ 620
‘This were a wonder thing,’ quod Troilus,
‘Thou coudest never in love thy-selven wisse;
How devel maystow bringen me to blisse?’
‘Though I be nyce; it happeth ofte so, 625
That oon that exces doth ful yvele fare
By good counseyl can kepe his freend ther-fro.
I have my-self eek seyn a blind man go
Ther-as he fel that coude loke wyde;
A fool may eek a wys man ofte gyde. 630
And yet it maketh sharpe kerving-tolis.
And ther thow woost that I have ought miswent,
Eschewe thou that, for swich thing to thee scole is;
Thus ofte wyse men ben war by folis. 635
If thou do so, thy wit is wel biwared;
By his contrarie is every thing declared.
To him that never tasted bitternesse?
Ne no man may be inly glad, I trowe, 640
That never was in sorwe or som distresse;
Eek whyt by blak, by shame eek worthinesse,
Ech set by other, more for other semeth;
As men may see; and so the wyse it demeth.
I, that have in love so ofte assayed 646
Grevaunces, oughte conne, and wel the more
Counsayllen thee of that thou art amayed.
Eek thee ne oughte nat ben yvel apayed,
Though I desyre with thee for to bere 650
Thyn hevy charge; it shal the lasse dere.
As to thy brother Parys an herdesse,
Which that y-cleped was Oënone, 654
Wroot in a compleynt of hir hevinesse:
Ye sey the lettre that she wroot, y gesse?’
‘Nay never yet, y-wis,’ quod Troilus,
‘Now,’ quod Pandare, ‘herkneth; it was thus.—
Quod she, “and coude in every wightes care 660
Remede and reed, by herbes he knew fyne,
Yet to him-self his conninge was ful bare;
For love hadde him so bounden
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