Troilus and Criseyde E-Book

Geoffrey Chaucer

• Herausgeber: DigiCat
• Kategorie: Poesie und Drama
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

Geoffrey Chaucer's 'Troilus and Criseyde' is a timeless masterpiece of medieval literature, written in Middle English during the 14th century. The narrative poem follows the tragic love story of Troilus, a Trojan prince, and Criseyde, the daughter of a traitor. Chaucer's use of poetry and intricate verse captures the complexities of human emotions, honor, and loyalty amidst the backdrop of the Trojan War. The book is considered one of the first great works of English literature. Chaucer combines elements of epic poetry with a deep exploration of love and betrayal, making it a classic in the literary canon. The book is a must-read for those interested in medieval literature and the evolution of the English language. Chaucer's ability to weave a compelling and emotional tale through his poetic craftsmanship is truly remarkable.

Leseprobe

Geoffrey Chaucer

Troilus and Criseyde

 

EAN 8596547022831

DigiCat, 2022 Contact: [email protected]

Table of Contents

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus

BOOK II. Incipit Prohemium Secundi Libri.

BOOK III. Incipit prohemium tercii libri.

BOOK IV. Incipit Prohemium Liber Quartus.

BOOK V. Incipit Liber Quintus.

BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus

Table of Contents

The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1 That was the king Priamus sone of Troye, In lovinge, how his aventures fellen Fro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye, My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5 Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte Thise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte! To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment, Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne; Help me, that am the sorwful instrument 10 That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne! For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne, A woful wight to han a drery fere, And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere. For I, that god of Loves servaunts serve, 15 Ne dar to Love, for myn unlyklinesse, Preyen for speed, al sholde I therfor sterve, So fer am I fro his help in derknesse; But nathelees, if this may doon gladnesse To any lover, and his cause avayle, 20 Have he my thank, and myn be this travayle! But ye loveres, that bathen in gladnesse, If any drope of pitee in yow be, Remembreth yow on passed hevinesse That ye han felt, and on the adversitee 25 Of othere folk, and thenketh how that ye Han felt that Love dorste yow displese; Or ye han wonne hym with to greet an ese. And preyeth for hem that ben in the cas Of Troilus, as ye may after here, 30 That love hem bringe in hevene to solas, And eek for me preyeth to god so dere, That I have might to shewe, in som manere, Swich peyne and wo as Loves folk endure, In Troilus unsely aventure. 35 And biddeth eek for hem that been despeyred In love, that never nil recovered be, And eek for hem that falsly been apeyred Thorugh wikked tonges, be it he or she; Thus biddeth god, for his benignitee, 40 So graunte hem sone out of this world to pace, That been despeyred out of Loves grace. And biddeth eek for hem that been at ese, That god hem graunte ay good perseveraunce, And sende hem might hir ladies so to plese, 45 That it to Love be worship and plesaunce. For so hope I my soule best avaunce, To preye for hem that Loves servaunts be, And wryte hir wo, and live in charitee. And for to have of hem compassioun 50 As though I were hir owene brother dere. Now herkeneth with a gode entencioun, For now wol I gon streight to my matere, In whiche ye may the double sorwes here Of Troilus, in loving of Criseyde, 55 And how that she forsook him er she deyde. It is wel wist, how that the Grekes stronge In armes with a thousand shippes wente To Troyewardes, and the citee longe Assegeden neigh ten yeer er they stente, 60 And, in diverse wyse and oon entente, The ravisshing to wreken of Eleyne, By Paris doon, they wroughten al hir peyne. Now fil it so, that in the toun ther was Dwellinge a lord of greet auctoritee, 65 A gret devyn that cleped was Calkas, That in science so expert was, that he Knew wel that Troye sholde destroyed be, By answere of his god, that highte thus, Daun Phebus or Apollo Delphicus. 70 So whan this Calkas knew by calculinge, And eek by answere of this Appollo, That Grekes sholden swich a peple bringe, Thorugh which that Troye moste been for-do, He caste anoon out of the toun to go; 75 For wel wiste he, by sort, that Troye sholde Destroyed ben, ye, wolde who-so nolde. For which, for to departen softely Took purpos ful this forknowinge wyse, And to the Grekes ost ful prively 80 He stal anoon; and they, in curteys wyse, Hym deden bothe worship and servyse, In trust that he hath conning hem to rede In every peril which that is to drede. The noyse up roos, whan it was first aspyed, 85 Thorugh al the toun, and generally was spoken, That Calkas traytor fled was, and allyed With hem of Grece; and casten to ben wroken On him that falsly hadde his feith so broken; And seyden, he and al his kin at ones 90 Ben worthy for to brennen, fel and bones. Now hadde Calkas left, in this meschaunce, Al unwist of this false and wikked dede, His doughter, which that was in gret penaunce, For of hir lyf she was ful sore in drede, 95 As she that niste what was best to rede; For bothe a widowe was she, and allone Of any freend to whom she dorste hir mone. Criseyde was this lady name a-right; As to my dome, in al Troyes citee 100 Nas noon so fair, for passing every wight So aungellyk was hir natyf beautee, That lyk a thing immortal semed she, As doth an hevenish parfit creature, That doun were sent in scorning of nature. 105 This lady, which that al-day herde at ere Hir fadres shame, his falsnesse and tresoun, Wel nigh out of hir wit for sorwe and fere, In widewes habit large of samit broun, On knees she fil biforn Ector a-doun; 110 With pitous voys, and tendrely wepinge, His mercy bad, hir-selven excusinge. Now was this Ector pitous of nature, And saw that she was sorwfully bigoon, And that she was so fair a creature; 115 Of his goodnesse he gladed hir anoon, And seyde, `Lat your fadres treson goon Forth with mischaunce, and ye your-self, in Ioye, Dwelleth with us, whyl you good list, in Troye. `And al thonour that men may doon yow have, 120 As ferforth as your fader dwelled here, Ye shul han, and your body shal men save, As fer as I may ought enquere or here.' And she him thonked with ful humble chere, And ofter wolde, and it hadde ben his wille, 125 And took hir leve, and hoom, and held hir stille. And in hir hous she abood with swich meynee As to hir honour nede was to holde; And whyl she was dwellinge in that citee, Kepte hir estat, and bothe of yonge and olde 130 Ful wel beloved, and wel men of hir tolde. But whether that she children hadde or noon, I rede it naught; therfore I late it goon. The thinges fellen, as they doon of werre, Bitwixen hem of Troye and Grekes ofte; 135 For som day boughten they of Troye it derre, And eft the Grekes founden no thing softe The folk of Troye; and thus fortune on-lofte, And under eft, gan hem to wheelen bothe After hir cours, ay whyl they were wrothe. 140 But how this toun com to destruccioun Ne falleth nought to purpos me to telle; For it were a long digressioun Fro my matere, and yow to longe dwelle. But the Troyane gestes, as they felle, 145 In Omer, or in Dares, or in Dyte, Who-so that can, may rede hem as they wryte. But though that Grekes hem of Troye shetten, And hir citee bisegede al a-boute, Hir olde usage wolde they not letten, 150 As for to honoure hir goddes ful devoute; But aldermost in honour, out of doute, They hadde a relik hight Palladion, That was hir trist a-boven everichon. And so bifel, whan comen was the tyme 155 Of Aperil, whan clothed is the mede With newe grene, of lusty Ver the pryme, And swote smellen floures whyte and rede, In sondry wyses shewed, as I rede, The folk of Troye hir observaunces olde, 160 Palladiones feste for to holde. And to the temple, in al hir beste wyse, In general, ther wente many a wight, To herknen of Palladion servyse; And namely, so many a lusty knight, 165 So many a lady fresh and mayden bright, Ful wel arayed, bothe moste and leste, Ye, bothe for the seson and the feste. Among thise othere folk was Criseyda, In widewes habite blak; but nathelees, 170 Right as our firste lettre is now an A, In beautee first so stood she, makelees; Hir godly looking gladede al the prees. Nas never seyn thing to ben preysed derre, Nor under cloude blak so bright a sterre 175 As was Criseyde, as folk seyde everichoon That hir behelden in hir blake wede; And yet she stood ful lowe and stille alloon, Bihinden othere folk, in litel brede, And neigh the dore, ay under shames drede, 180 Simple of a-tyr, and debonaire of chere, With ful assured loking and manere. This Troilus, as he was wont to gyde His yonge knightes, ladde hem up and doun In thilke large temple on every syde, 185 Biholding ay the ladyes of the toun, Now here, now there, for no devocioun Hadde he to noon, to reven him his reste, But gan to preyse and lakken whom him leste. And in his walk ful fast he gan to wayten 190 If knight or squyer of his companye Gan for to syke, or lete his eyen bayten On any woman that he coude aspye; He wolde smyle, and holden it folye, And seye him thus, `god wot, she slepeth softe 195 For love of thee, whan thou tornest ful ofte! `I have herd told, pardieux, of your livinge, Ye lovers, and your lewede observaunces, And which a labour folk han in winninge Of love, and, in the keping, which doutaunces; 200 And whan your preye is lost, wo and penaunces; O verrey foles! nyce and blinde be ye; Ther nis not oon can war by other be.' And with that word he gan cast up the browe, Ascaunces, `Lo! is this nought wysly spoken?' 205 At which the god of love gan loken rowe Right for despyt, and shoop for to ben wroken; He kidde anoon his bowe nas not broken; For sodeynly he hit him at the fulle; And yet as proud a pekok can he pulle. 210 O blinde world, O blinde entencioun! How ofte falleth al theffect contraire Of surquidrye and foul presumpcioun; For caught is proud, and caught is debonaire. This Troilus is clomben on the staire, 215 And litel weneth that he moot descenden. But al-day falleth thing that foles ne wenden. As proude Bayard ginneth for to skippe Out of the wey, so priketh him his corn, Til he a lash have of the longe whippe, 220 Than thenketh he, `Though I praunce al biforn First in the trays, ful fat and newe shorn, Yet am I but an hors, and horses lawe I moot endure, and with my feres drawe.' So ferde it by this fers and proude knight; 225 Though he a worthy kinges sone were, And wende nothing hadde had swiche might Ayens his wil that sholde his herte stere, Yet with a look his herte wex a-fere, That he, that now was most in pryde above, 230 Wex sodeynly most subget un-to love. For-thy ensample taketh of this man, Ye wyse, proude, and worthy folkes alle, To scornen Love, which that so sone can The freedom of your hertes to him thralle; 235 For ever it was, and ever it shal bifalle, That Love is he that alle thing may binde; For may no man for-do the lawe of kinde. That this be sooth, hath preved and doth yet; For this trowe I ye knowen, alle or some, 240 Men reden not that folk han gretter wit Than they that han be most with love y-nome; And strengest folk ben therwith overcome, The worthiest and grettest of degree: This was, and is, and yet men shal it see. 245 And trewelich it sit wel to be so; For alderwysest han ther-with ben plesed; And they that han ben aldermost in wo, With love han ben conforted most and esed; And ofte it hath the cruel herte apesed, 250 And worthy folk maad worthier of name, And causeth most to dreden vyce and shame. Now sith it may not goodly be withstonde, And is a thing so vertuous in kinde, Refuseth not to Love for to be bonde, 255 Sin, as him-selven list, he may yow binde. The yerde is bet that bowen wole and winde Than that that brest; and therfor I yow rede To folwen him that so wel can yow lede. But for to tellen forth in special 260 As of this kinges sone of which I tolde, And leten other thing collateral, Of him thenke I my tale for to holde, Both of his Ioye, and of his cares colde; And al his werk, as touching this matere, 265 For I it gan, I wol ther-to refere. With-inne the temple he wente him forth pleyinge, This Troilus, of every wight aboute, On this lady and now on that lokinge, Wher-so she were of toune, or of with-oute: 270 And up-on cas bifel, that thorugh a route His eye perced, and so depe it wente, Til on Criseyde it smoot, and ther it stente. And sodeynly he wax ther-with astoned, And gan hire bet biholde in thrifty wyse: 275 `O mercy, god!' thoughte he, `wher hastow woned, That art so fair and goodly to devyse?' Ther-with his herte gan to sprede and ryse, And softe sighed, lest men mighte him here, And caughte a-yein his firste pleyinge chere. 280 She nas nat with the leste of hir stature, But alle hir limes so wel answeringe Weren to womanhode, that creature Was neuer lasse mannish in seminge. And eek the pure wyse of here meninge 285 Shewede wel, that men might in hir gesse Honour, estat, and wommanly noblesse. To Troilus right wonder wel with-alle Gan for to lyke hir meninge and hir chere, Which somdel deynous was, for she leet falle 290 Hir look a lite a-side, in swich manere, Ascaunces, `What! May I not stonden here?' And after that hir loking gan she lighte, That never thoughte him seen so good a sighte. And of hir look in him ther gan to quiken 295 So greet desir, and swich affeccioun, That in his herte botme gan to stiken Of hir his fixe and depe impressioun: And though he erst hadde poured up and doun, He was tho glad his hornes in to shrinke; 300 Unnethes wiste he how to loke or winke. Lo, he that leet him-selven so konninge, And scorned hem that loves peynes dryen, Was ful unwar that love hadde his dwellinge With-inne the subtile stremes of hir yen; 305 That sodeynly him thoughte he felte dyen, Right with hir look, the spirit in his herte; Blissed be love, that thus can folk converte! She, this in blak, likinge to Troylus, Over alle thyng, he stood for to biholde; 310 Ne his desir, ne wherfor he stood thus, He neither chere made, ne worde tolde; But from a-fer, his maner for to holde, On other thing his look som-tyme he caste, And eft on hir, whyl that servyse laste. 315 And after this, not fulliche al awhaped, Out of the temple al esiliche he wente, Repentinge him that he hadde ever y-iaped Of loves folk, lest fully the descente Of scorn fille on him-self; but, what he mente, 320 Lest it were wist on any maner syde, His wo he gan dissimulen and hyde. Whan he was fro the temple thus departed, He streyght anoon un-to his paleys torneth, Right with hir look thurgh-shoten and thurgh-darted, 325 Al feyneth he in lust that he soiorneth; And al his chere and speche also he borneth; And ay, of loves servants every whyle, Him-self to wrye, at hem he gan to smyle. And seyde, `Lord, so ye live al in lest, 330 Ye loveres! For the conningest of yow, That serveth most ententiflich and best, Him tit as often harm ther-of as prow; Your hyre is quit ayein, ye, god wot how! Nought wel for wel, but scorn for good servyse; 335 In feith, your ordre is ruled in good wyse! `In noun-certeyn ben alle your observaunces, But it a sely fewe poyntes be; Ne no-thing asketh so grete attendaunces As doth youre lay, and that knowe alle ye; 340 But that is not the worste, as mote I thee; But, tolde I yow the worste poynt, I leve, Al seyde I sooth, ye wolden at me greve! `But tak this, that ye loveres ofte eschuwe, Or elles doon of good entencioun, 345 Ful ofte thy lady wole it misconstrue, And deme it harm in hir opinioun; And yet if she, for other enchesoun, Be wrooth, than shalt thou han a groyn anoon: Lord! wel is him that may be of yow oon!' 350 But for al this, whan that he say his tyme, He held his pees, non other bote him gayned; For love bigan his fetheres so to lyme, That wel unnethe un-to his folk he fayned That othere besye nedes him destrayned; 355 For wo was him, that what to doon he niste, But bad his folk to goon wher that hem liste. And whan that he in chaumbre was allone, He doun up-on his beddes feet him sette, And first be gan to syke, and eft to grone, 360 And thoughte ay on hir so, with-outen lette, That, as he sat and wook, his spirit mette That he hir saw a temple, and al the wyse Right of hir loke, and gan it newe avyse. Thus gan he make a mirour of his minde, 365 In which he saugh al hoolly hir figure; And that he wel coude in his herte finde, It was to him a right good aventure To love swich oon, and if he dide his cure To serven hir, yet mighte he falle in grace, 370 Or elles, for oon of hir servaunts pace. Imagininge that travaille nor grame Ne mighte, for so goodly oon, be lorn As she, ne him for his desir ne shame, Al were it wist, but in prys and up-born 375 Of alle lovers wel more than biforn; Thus argumented he in his ginninge, Ful unavysed of his wo cominge. Thus took he purpos loves craft to suwe, And thoughte he wolde werken prively, 380 First, to hyden his desir in muwe From every wight y-born, al-outrely, But he mighte ought recovered be therby; Remembring him, that love to wyde y-blowe Yelt bittre fruyt, though swete seed be sowe. 385 And over al this, yet muchel more he thoughte What for to speke, and what to holden inne, And what to arten hir to love he soughte, And on a song anoon-right to biginne, And gan loude on his sorwe for to winne; 390 For with good hope he gan fully assente Criseyde for to love, and nought repente. And of his song nought only the sentence, As writ myn autour called Lollius, But pleynly, save our tonges difference, 395 I dar wel sayn, in al that Troilus Seyde in his song, lo! every word right thus As I shal seyn; and who-so list it here, Lo! next this vers, he may it finden here. Cantus Troili. `If no love is, O god, what fele I so? 400 And if love is, what thing and whiche is he! If love be good, from whennes comth my wo? If it be wikke, a wonder thinketh me, Whenne every torment and adversitee That cometh of him, may to me savory thinke; 405 For ay thurst I, the more that I it drinke. `And if that at myn owene lust I brenne, Fro whennes cometh my wailing and my pleynte? If harme agree me, wher-to pleyne I thenne? I noot, ne why unwery that I feynte. 410 O quike deeth, O swete harm so queynte, How may of thee in me swich quantitee, But-if that I consente that it be? `And if that I consente, I wrongfully Compleyne, y-wis; thus possed to and fro, 415 Al sterelees with inne a boot am I A-mid the see, by-twixen windes two, That in contrarie stonden ever-mo. Allas! what is this wonder maladye? For hete of cold, for cold of hete, I deye.' 420 And to the god of love thus seyde he With pitous voys, `O lord, now youres is My spirit, which that oughte youres be. Yow thanke I, lord, that han me brought to this; But whether goddesse or womman, y-wis, 425 She be, I noot, which that ye do me serve; But as hir man I wole ay live and sterve. `Ye stonden in hire eyen mightily, As in a place un-to youre vertu digne; Wherfore, lord, if my servyse or I 430 May lyke yow, so beth to me benigne; For myn estat royal here I resigne In-to hir hond, and with ful humble chere Bicome hir man, as to my lady dere.' In him ne deyned sparen blood royal 435 The fyr of love, wher-fro god me blesse, Ne him forbar in no degree, for al His vertu or his excellent prowesse; But held him as his thral lowe in distresse, And brende him so in sondry wyse ay newe, 440 That sixty tyme a day he loste his hewe. So muche, day by day, his owene thought, For lust to hir, gan quiken and encrese, That every other charge he sette at nought; For-thy ful ofte, his hote fyr to cese, 445 To seen hir goodly look he gan to prese; For ther-by to ben esed wel he wende, And ay the ner he was, the more he brende. For ay the ner the fyr, the hotter is, This, trowe I, knoweth al this companye. 450 But were he fer or neer, I dar seye this, By night or day, for wisdom or folye, His herte, which that is his brestes ye, Was ay on hir, that fairer was to sene Than ever were Eleyne or Polixene. 455 Eek of the day ther passed nought an houre That to him-self a thousand tyme he seyde, `Good goodly, to whom serve I and laboure, As I best can, now wolde god, Criseyde, Ye wolden on me rewe er that I deyde! 460 My dere herte, allas! myn hele and hewe And lyf is lost, but ye wole on me rewe.' Alle othere dredes weren from him fledde, Both of the assege and his savacioun; Ne in him desyr noon othere fownes bredde 465 But argumentes to his conclusioun, That she on him wolde han compassioun, And he to be hir man, whyl he may dure; Lo, here his lyf, and from the deeth his cure! The sharpe shoures felle of armes preve, 470 That Ector or his othere bretheren diden, Ne made him only ther-fore ones meve; And yet was he, wher-so men wente or riden, Founde oon the beste, and lengest tyme abiden Ther peril was, and dide eek such travayle 475 In armes, that to thenke it was mervayle. But for non hate he to the Grekes hadde, Ne also for the rescous of the toun, Ne made him thus in armes for to madde, But only, lo, for this conclusioun, 480 To lyken hir the bet for his renoun; Fro day to day in armes so he spedde, That alle the Grekes as the deeth him dredde. And fro this forth tho refte him love his sleep, And made his mete his foo; and eek his sorwe 485 Gan multiplye, that, who-so toke keep, It shewed in his hewe, bothe eve and morwe; Therfor a title he gan him for to borwe Of other syknesse, lest of him men wende That the hote fyr of love him brende, 490 And seyde, he hadde a fever and ferde amis; But how it was, certayn, can I not seye, If that his lady understood not this, Or feyned hir she niste, oon of the tweye; But wel I rede that, by no maner weye, 495 Ne semed it as that she of him roughte, Nor of his peyne, or what-so-ever he thoughte. But than fel to this Troylus such wo, That he was wel neigh wood; for ay his drede Was this, that she som wight had loved so, 500 That never of him she wolde have taken hede; For whiche him thoughte he felte his herte blede. Ne of his wo ne dorste he not biginne To tellen it, for al this world to winne. But whanne he hadde a space fro his care, 505 Thus to him-self ful ofte he gan to pleyne; He sayde, `O fool, now art thou in the snare, That whilom Iapedest at loves peyne; Now artow hent, now gnaw thyn owene cheyne; Thou were ay wont eche lovere reprehende 510 Of thing fro which thou canst thee nat defende. `What wol now every lover seyn of thee, If this be wist, but ever in thyn absence Laughen in scorn, and seyn, `Lo, ther gooth he, That is the man of so gret sapience, 515 That held us lovers leest in reverence! Now, thonked be god, he may goon in the daunce Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce!' `But, O thou woful Troilus, god wolde, Sin thou most loven thurgh thi destinee, 520 That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde Knowe al thy wo, al lakkede hir pitee: But al so cold in love, towardes thee, Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone, And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sone.' 525 `God wolde I were aryved in the port Of deth, to which my sorwe wil me lede! A, lord, to me it were a gret comfort; Than were I quit of languisshing in drede. For by myn hidde sorwe y-blowe on brede 530 I shal bi-Iaped been a thousand tyme More than that fool of whos folye men ryme. `But now help god, and ye, swete, for whom I pleyne, y-caught, ye, never wight so faste! O mercy, dere herte, and help me from 535 The deeth, for I, whyl that my lyf may laste, More than my-self wol love yow to my laste. And with som freendly look gladeth me, swete, Though never more thing ye me bi-hete!' This wordes and ful manye an-other to 540 He spak, and called ever in his compleynte Hir name, for to tellen hir his wo, Til neigh that he in salte teres dreynte. Al was for nought, she herde nought his pleynte; And whan that he bithoughte on that folye, 545 A thousand fold his wo gan multiplye. Bi-wayling in his chambre thus allone, A freend of his, that called was Pandare, Com ones in unwar, and herde him grone, And say his freend in swich distresse and care: `Allas!' quod he, `who causeth al this fare? 551 O mercy, god! What unhap may this mene? Han now thus sone Grekes maad yow lene? `Or hastow som remors of conscience, And art now falle in som devocioun, 555 And waylest for thy sinne and thyn offence, And hast for ferde caught attricioun? God save hem that bi-seged han our toun, And so can leye our Iolyte on presse, And bring our lusty folk to holinesse!' 560 These wordes seyde he for the nones alle, That with swich thing he mighte him angry maken, And with an angre don his sorwe falle, As for the tyme, and his corage awaken; But wel he wist, as fer as tonges spaken, 565 Ther nas a man of gretter hardinesse Than he, ne more desired worthinesse. `What cas,' quod Troilus, `or what aventure Hath gyded thee to see my languisshinge, That am refus of euery creature? 570 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. `But if thou wene I be thus sik for drede, 575 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.' This Pandare, that neigh malt for wo and routhe,