O, of all houses once the crowned boast! 
  Palace illumined with the sun of bliss; 30
  O ring of which the ruby now is lost,
  O cause of woe, that cause has [2] been of bliss: 
  Yet, since I may no better, would I kiss
  Thy cold doors; but I dare not for this rout;
  Farewell, thou shrine of which the Saint is out! 35

  Therewith he cast on Pandarus an eye, [3]
  With changed face, and piteous to behold;
  And when he might his time aright espy,
  Aye as he rode, to Pandarus he told
  Both his new sorrow and his joys of old, 40
  So piteously, and with so dead a hue,
  That every wight might on his sorrow rue.

  Forth from the spot he rideth up and down,
  And everything to his rememberance
  Came as he rode by places of the town 45
  Where he had felt such perfect pleasure once. 
  Lo, yonder saw I mine own Lady dance,
  And in that Temple she with her bright eyes,
  My Lady dear, first bound me captive-wise.

  And yonder with joy-smitten heart have I 50
  Heard my own Cresid’s laugh; and once at play
  I yonder saw her eke full blissfully;
  And yonder once she unto me ’gan say—­
  Now, my sweet Troilus, love me well, I pray! 
  And there so graciously did me behold, 55
  That hers unto the death my heart I hold.

  And at the corner of that self-same house
  Heard I my most beloved Lady dear,
  So womanly, with voice melodious
  Singing so well, so goodly, and so clear, 60
  That in my soul methinks I yet do hear
  The blissful sound; and in that very place
  My Lady first me took unto her grace.

  O blissful God of Love! then thus he cried,
  When I the process have in memory, 65
  How thou hast wearied [D] me on every side,
  Men thence a book might make, a history;
  What need to seek a conquest over me,
  Since I am wholly at thy will? what joy
  Hast thou thy own liege subjects to destroy? 70

  Dread Lord! so fearful when provoked, thine ire
  Well hast thou wreaked on me by pain and grief;
  Now mercy, Lord! thou know’st well I desire
  Thy grace above all pleasures first and chief;
  And live and die I will in thy belief; 75
  For which I ask for guerdon but one boon,
  That Cresida again thou send me soon.

  Constrain her heart as quickly to return,
  As thou dost mine with longing her to see,
  Then know I well that she would not sojourn. 80
  Now, blissful Lord, so cruel do not be
  Unto the blood of Troy, I pray of thee,
  As Juno was unto the Theban blood,
  From whence to Thebes came griefs in multitude.