Quod tho Criseyde, ‘go we, uncle dere’;
And arm in arm inward with him she wente, 1725
Avysed wel hir wordes and hir chere;
And Pandarus, in ernestful manere,
Seyde, ‘alle folk, for goddes love, I preye,
Stinteth right here, and softely yow pleye.
And in what plyt oon is, god him amende!
And inward thus ful softely biginne;
Nece, I conjure and heighly yow defende,
On his half, which that sowle us alle sende,
And in the vertue of corounes tweyne,
Slee nought this man, that hath for yow this peyne! 1736
And in what plyt he lyth; com of anoon;
Thenk al swich taried tyd, but lost it nis!
That wol ye bothe seyn, whan ye ben oon.
Secoundelich, ther yet devyneth noon 1741
Up-on yow two; com of now, if ye conne;
Whyl folk is blent, lo, al the tyme is wonne!
The folk devyne at wagginge of a stree;
And though ye wolde han after merye dayes, 1746
Than dar ye nought, and why? for she, and she
Spak swich a word; thus loked he, and he;
Lest tyme I loste, I dar not with yow dele;
Com of therfore, and bringeth him to hele.’
Was Troilus nought in a cankedort,
That lay, and mighte whispringe of hem here,
And thoughte, ‘O lord, right now renneth my sort
Fully to dye, or han anoon comfort’; 1755
And was the firste tyme he shulde hir preye
Of love; O mighty god, what shal he seye?