Troilus and Criseyde by Geoffrey Chaucer
page 17 of 316 (05%)
page 17 of 316 (05%)
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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, |
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