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In every cas, as lovere oughte of right. 571 Thus am I with desyr and reson twight; Desyr for to distourben hir me redeth, And reson nil not, so myn herte dredeth. He seyde, allas! how shal I, wrecche, fare? For wel fele I alwey my love encresse, And hope is lasse and lasse alwey, Pandare! Encressen eek the causes of my care; So wel-a-wey, why nil myn herte breste? For, as in love, ther is but litel reste. 581 Don as thee list; but hadde ich it so hote, And thyn estat, she sholde go with me; Though al this toun cryede on this thing by note, 585 I nolde sette at al that noyse a grote. For when men han wel cryed, than wol they roune; A wonder last but nyne night never in toune. Ne curteysly, but help thy-self anoon; 590 Bet is that othere than thy- selven wepe, And namely, sin ye two been al oon. Rys up, for by myn heed, she shal not goon; And rather be in blame a lyte y-founde Than sterve here as a gnat, with-oute wounde. 595 Hir to with-holden, that ye loveth most. Paraunter, she mighte holden thee for nyce To lete hir go thus to the Grekes ost. Thenk eek Fortune, as wel thy-selven wost, 600 Helpeth hardy man to his empryse, And weyveth wrecches, for hir cowardyse. Thou shalt thy pees ful wel here-after make, But as for me, certayn, I can not leve 605 That she wolde it as now for yvel take. Why sholde than for ferd thyn herte quake? Thenk eek how Paris hath, that is thy brother, A love; and why shaltow not have another? That if Criseyde, whiche that is thy leef, Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here, God helpe me so, she nil not take a-greef, Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef. And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe, Thanne is she fals; so love hir wel the lasse. 616 Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe. Kyth now sumwhat thy corage and thy might, Have mercy on thy-self, for any awe. 620 Lat not this wrecched wo thin herte gnawe, But manly set the world on sixe and sevene; And, if thou deye a martir, go to hevene. Though ich and al my kin, up-on a stounde, 625 Shulle in a strete as dogges liggen dede, Thourgh-girt with many a wyd and blody wounde. In every cas I wol a freend be founde. And if thee list here sterven as a wrecche, A-dieu, the devel spede him that it recche! 630 And seyde, freend, graunt mercy, ich assente; But certaynly thou mayst not me so priken, Ne peyne noon ne may me so tormente, That, for no cas, it is not myn entente, At shorte wordes, though I dyen sholde, To ravisshe hir, but-if hir-self it wolde. 637 But tel me than, hastow hir wel assayed, That sorwest thus? And he answerde, nay. 640 Wher-of artow, quod Pandare, than a-mayed, That nost not that she wol ben yvel apayed To ravisshe hir, sin thou hast not ben there, But-if that Jove tolde it in thyn ere? And wash thy face, and to the king thou wende, Or he may wondren whider thou art goon. Thou most with wisdom him and other blende; Or, up-on cas, he may after thee sende Er thou be war; and shortly, brother dere, 650 Be glad, and lat me werke in this matere. Thou shalt this night som tyme, in som manere, Com speke with thy lady prevely, And by hir wordes eek, and by hir chere, Thou shalt ful sone aparceyve and wel here |
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