12-03-2013, 11:09 AM
from chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde
Book V
The morwen com, and gostly for to speke,
This Diomede is come un-to Criseyde;
And shortly, lest that ye my tale breke,
So wel he for hym-selven spak and seyde,
That alle hire sikes soore adown he leyde.
And finaly, the sothe for to seyne,
He refte hir of the grete of al hire peyne.
And after this the storie telleth us
That she hym yaf the fair e baye stede,
The which he ones wan of Troilus;
And ek a broche (and that was litel nede)
That Troilus was, she yaf this Diomede.
And ek, the bet from sorwe him to releve,
She made hym were a pencel of hire sleve.
I fynde ek in the stories ell es-where,
Whan thorugh the body hurt was Diomede
Of Troilus, tho wepte she many a teer e,
Whan that she saugh his wyde wowndes blede;
And that she took, to kepen hym, good hede;
And for to hele hym of his sorwes smerte,
Men seyn, I not, that she yaf hym hire herte.
But trew ely, the storie telleth us,
Ther made nevere woman moore wo
Than she, whan that she falsed Troilus.
She seyde, "Allas! for now is clene a-go
My name of trouthe in love, for evere-mo!
For I have falsed oon the gentileste
That ever e was, and oon the worthieste!
"Allas, of me, un-to the world es ende,
Shal neyther been y-writen nor y-songe
No good word, for thise bok es wol me shende.
O, rolled shal I ben on many a tonge!
Thorugh-out the world my belle shal be ronge;
And wommen moost wol haten me of alle.
Allas, that swich a cas me sholde falle!
"Thei wol seyn, in as muche as in me is,
I have hem don dishonour, weylawey!
Al be I nat the firste that dide amys,
What helpeth that to don my blame awey?
But syn I see ther is no bettr e way,
And that to late is now for me to rewe,
To Diomede algate I wol be trewe.
"But, Troilus, syn I no bettr e may,
And syn that thus departen ye and I,
Yet prey I God, so yeve yow right good day,
As for the gentileste, trewely,
That evere I say, to serven feythfully,
And best kan ay his lady honour kepe;"—
And with that word she brast anon to wepe.
"And certes, yow ne haten shal I never e;
And frendes love, that shal ye han of me,
And my good word, al sholde I lyven evere.
And, trewely, I wolde sory be
For to seen yow in adversitee.
And giltelees, I woot wel, I yow leve;
But al shal passe; and thus take I my leve."
There are plenty of old ones that use just one stanza divided into a tercet and two couplets, or a quatrain and a tercet, but i can't seem to find any right now.
Book V
The morwen com, and gostly for to speke,
This Diomede is come un-to Criseyde;
And shortly, lest that ye my tale breke,
So wel he for hym-selven spak and seyde,
That alle hire sikes soore adown he leyde.
And finaly, the sothe for to seyne,
He refte hir of the grete of al hire peyne.
And after this the storie telleth us
That she hym yaf the fair e baye stede,
The which he ones wan of Troilus;
And ek a broche (and that was litel nede)
That Troilus was, she yaf this Diomede.
And ek, the bet from sorwe him to releve,
She made hym were a pencel of hire sleve.
I fynde ek in the stories ell es-where,
Whan thorugh the body hurt was Diomede
Of Troilus, tho wepte she many a teer e,
Whan that she saugh his wyde wowndes blede;
And that she took, to kepen hym, good hede;
And for to hele hym of his sorwes smerte,
Men seyn, I not, that she yaf hym hire herte.
But trew ely, the storie telleth us,
Ther made nevere woman moore wo
Than she, whan that she falsed Troilus.
She seyde, "Allas! for now is clene a-go
My name of trouthe in love, for evere-mo!
For I have falsed oon the gentileste
That ever e was, and oon the worthieste!
"Allas, of me, un-to the world es ende,
Shal neyther been y-writen nor y-songe
No good word, for thise bok es wol me shende.
O, rolled shal I ben on many a tonge!
Thorugh-out the world my belle shal be ronge;
And wommen moost wol haten me of alle.
Allas, that swich a cas me sholde falle!
"Thei wol seyn, in as muche as in me is,
I have hem don dishonour, weylawey!
Al be I nat the firste that dide amys,
What helpeth that to don my blame awey?
But syn I see ther is no bettr e way,
And that to late is now for me to rewe,
To Diomede algate I wol be trewe.
"But, Troilus, syn I no bettr e may,
And syn that thus departen ye and I,
Yet prey I God, so yeve yow right good day,
As for the gentileste, trewely,
That evere I say, to serven feythfully,
And best kan ay his lady honour kepe;"—
And with that word she brast anon to wepe.
"And certes, yow ne haten shal I never e;
And frendes love, that shal ye han of me,
And my good word, al sholde I lyven evere.
And, trewely, I wolde sory be
For to seen yow in adversitee.
And giltelees, I woot wel, I yow leve;
But al shal passe; and thus take I my leve."
There are plenty of old ones that use just one stanza divided into a tercet and two couplets, or a quatrain and a tercet, but i can't seem to find any right now.