Chapter D: Laing Purves (28)

“For thilke* ground, that bears the weedes wick’ *that same Bears eke the wholesome herbes, and full oft Next to the foule nettle, rough and thick, The lily waxeth,* white, and smooth, and soft; *grows And next the valley is the hill aloft, And next the darke night is the glad morrow, And also joy is next the fine* of sorrow.” *end, border

Pandarus holds out to Troilus good hope of achieving his desire; and tells him that, since he has been converted from his wicked rebellion against Love, he shall be made the best post of all Love’s law, and most grieve Love’s enemies. Troilus gives utterance to a hint of fear; but he is silenced by Pandarus with another proverb — “Thou hast full great care, lest that the carl should fall out of the moon.” Then the lovesick youth breaks into a joyous boast that some of the Greeks shall smart; he mounts his horse, and plays the lion in the field; while Pandarus retires to consider how he may best recommend to his niece the suit of Troilus.

THE SECOND BOOK.

IN the Proem to the Second Book, the poet hails the clear weather that enables him to sail out of those black waves in which his boat so laboured that he could scarcely steer — that is, “the tempestuous matter of despair, that Troilus was in; but now of hope the kalendes begin.” He invokes the aid of Clio; excuses himself to every lover for what may be found amiss in a book which he only translates; and, obviating any lover’s objection to the way in which Troilus obtained his lady’s grace - - through Pandarus’ mediation — says it seems to him no wonderful thing:

“For ev’ry wighte that to Rome went Held not one path, nor alway one mannere; Eke in some lands were all the game y-shent If that men far’d in love as men do here, As thus, in open dealing and in cheer, In visiting, in form, or saying their saws;* *speeches For thus men say: Each country hath its laws.

“Eke scarcely be there in this place three That have in love done or said *like in all;”* *alike in all respects*

And so that which the poem relates may not please the reader — but it actually was done, or it shall yet be done. The Book sets out with the visit of Pandarus to Cressida:—

In May, that mother is of monthes glade,* *glad When all the freshe flowers, green and red, Be quick* again, that winter deade made, *alive And full of balm is floating ev’ry mead; When Phoebus doth his brighte beames spread Right in the white Bull, so it betid* *happened As I shall sing, on Maye’s day the thrid, <11>

That Pandarus, for all his wise speech, Felt eke his part of Love’s shottes keen, That, could he ne’er so well of Love preach, It made yet his hue all day full green;* *pale So *shope it,* that him fell that day a teen* *it happened* *access In love, for which full woe to bed he went, And made ere it were day full many a went.* *turning <12>

The swallow Progne, <13> with a sorrowful lay, When morrow came, gan make her waimenting,* *lamenting Why she foshapen* was; and ever lay *transformed Pandare a-bed, half in a slumbering, Till she so nigh him made her chittering, How Tereus gan forth her sister take, That with the noise of her he did awake,

And gan to call, and dress* him to arise, *prepare Rememb’ring him his errand was to do’n From Troilus, and eke his great emprise; And cast, and knew in *good plight* was the Moon *favourable aspect* To do voyage, and took his way full soon Unto his niece’s palace there beside Now Janus, god of entry, thou him guide!

Pandarus finds his niece, with two other ladies, in a paved parlour, listening to a maiden who reads aloud the story of the Siege of Thebes. Greeting the company, he is welcomed by Cressida, who tells him that for three nights she has dreamed of him. After some lively talk about the book they had been reading, Pandarus asks his niece to do away her hood, to show her face bare, to lay aside the book, to rise up and dance, “and let us do to May some observance.” Cressida cries out, “God forbid!” and asks if he is mad — if that is a widow’s life, whom it better becomes to sit in a cave and read of holy saints’ lives. Pandarus intimates that he could tell her something which could make her merry; but he refuses to gratify her curiosity; and, by way of the siege and of Hector, “that was the towne’s wall, and Greekes’ yerd” or scourging-rod, the conversation is brought round to Troilus, whom Pandarus highly extols as “the wise worthy Hector the second.” She has, she says, already heard Troilus praised for his bravery “of them that her were liefest praised be” [by whom it would be most welcome to her to be praised].

“Ye say right sooth, y-wis,” quoth Pandarus; For yesterday, who so had with him been, Might have wonder’d upon Troilus; For never yet so thick a swarm of been* *bees Ne flew, as did of Greekes from him flee’n; And through the field, in ev’ry wighte’s ear, There was no cry but ‘Troilus is here.’

“Now here, now there, he hunted them so fast, There was but Greekes’ blood; and Troilus Now him he hurt, now him adown he cast; Ay where he went it was arrayed thus: He was their death, and shield of life for us, That as that day there durst him none withstand, While that he held his bloody sword in hand.”

Pandarus makes now a show of taking leave, but Cressida detains him, to speak of her affairs; then, the business talked over, he would again go, but first again asks his niece to arise and dance, and cast her widow’s garments to mischance, because of the glad fortune that has befallen her. More curious than ever, she seeks to find out Pandarus’ secret; but he still parries her curiosity, skilfully hinting all the time at her good fortune, and the wisdom of seizing on it when offered. In the end he tells her that the noble Troilus so loves her, that with her it lies to make him live or die — but if Troilus dies, Pandarus shall die with him; and then she will have “fished fair.” <14> He beseeches mercy for his friend:

“*Woe worth* the faire gemme virtueless! <15> *evil befall!* Woe worth the herb also that *doth no boot!* *has no remedial power* Woe worth the beauty that is rutheless!* *merciless Woe worth that wight that treads each under foot! And ye that be of beauty *crop and root* *perfection <16> If therewithal in you there be no ruth,* *pity Then is it harm ye live, by my truth!”

Pandarus makes only the slight request that she will show Troilus somewhat better cheer, and receive visits from him, that his life may be saved; urging that, although a man be soon going to the temple, nobody will think that he eats the images; and that “such love of friends reigneth in all this town.”

Cressida, which that heard him in this wise, Thought: “I shall feele* what he means, y-wis;” *test “Now, eme* quoth she, “what would ye me devise? *uncle What is your rede* that I should do of this?” *counsel, opinion “That is well said,” quoth he;” certain best it is That ye him love again for his loving, As love for love is *skilful guerdoning.* *reasonable recompense*

“Think eke how elde* wasteth ev’ry hour *age In each of you a part of your beauty; And therefore, ere that age do you devour, Go love, for, old, there will no wight love thee Let this proverb a lore* unto you be: *lesson ‘“Too late I was ware,” quoth beauty when it past; And *elde daunteth danger* at the last.’ *old age overcomes disdain*

“The kinge’s fool is wont to cry aloud, When that he thinks a woman bears her high, ‘So longe may ye liven, and all proud, Till crowes’ feet be wox* under your eye! *grown And send you then a mirror *in to pry* *to look in* In which ye may your face see a-morrow!* *in the morning *I keep then wishe you no more sorrow.’”* *I care to wish you nothing worse* Weeping, Cressida reproaches her uncle for giving her such counsel; whereupon Pandarus, starting up, threatens to kill himself, and would fain depart, but that his niece detains him, and, with much reluctance, promises to “make Troilus good cheer in honour.” Invited by Cressida to tell how first he know her lover’s woe, Pandarus then relates two soliloquies which he had accidentally overheard, and in which Troilus had poured out all the sorrow of his passion.

With this he took his leave, and home he went Ah! Lord, so was he glad and well-begone!* *happy Cresside arose, no longer would she stent,* *stay But straight into her chamber went anon, And sat her down, as still as any stone, And ev’ry word gan up and down to wind That he had said, as it came to her mind.

And wax’d somedeal astonish’d in her thought, Right for the newe case; but when that she *Was full advised,* then she found right naught *had fully considered* Of peril, why she should afeared be: For a man may love, of possibility, A woman so, that his heart may to-brest,* *break utterly And she not love again, *but if her lest.* *unless it so please her*

But as she sat alone, and thoughte thus, In field arose a skirmish all without; And men cried in the street then:” Troilus hath right now put to flight the Greekes’ rout.”* *host With that gan all the meinie* for to shout: *(Cressida’s) household “Ah! go we see, cast up the lattice wide, For through this street he must to palace ride;

“For other way is from the gates none, Of Dardanus,<18> where open is the chain.” <19> With that came he, and all his folk anon, An easy pace riding, in *routes twain,* *two troops* Right as his *happy day* was, sooth to sayn: *good fortune <20>* For which men say may not disturbed be What shall betiden* of necessity. *happen

This Troilus sat upon his bay steed All armed, save his head, full richely, And wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed, For which he rode a pace full softely But such a knightly sighte* truly *aspect As was on him, was not, withoute fail, To look on Mars, that god is of Battaile.

So like a man of armes, and a knight, He was to see, full fill’d of high prowess; For both he had a body, and a might To do that thing, as well as hardiness;* *courage And eke to see him in his gear* him dress, *armour So fresh, so young, so wieldy* seemed he, *active It was a heaven on him for to see.* *look

His helmet was to-hewn in twenty places, That by a tissue* hung his back behind; *riband His shield to-dashed was with swords and maces, In which men might many an arrow find, That thirled* had both horn, and nerve, and rind; <21> *pierced And ay the people cried, “Here comes our joy, And, next his brother, <22> holder up of Troy.”

For which he wax’d a little red for shame, When he so heard the people on him cryen That to behold it was a noble game, How soberly he cast adown his eyen: Cresside anon gan all his cheer espien, And let it in her heart so softly sink, That to herself she said, “Who gives me drink?”<23>

For of her owen thought she wax’d all red, Rememb’ring her right thus: “Lo! this is he Which that mine uncle swears he might be dead, But* I on him have mercy and pity:” *unless And with that thought for pure shame she Gan in her head to pull, and that full fast, While he and all the people forth by pass’d.

And gan to cast,* and rollen up and down *ponder Within her thought his excellent prowess, And his estate, and also his renown, His wit, his shape, and eke his gentleness But most her favour was, for his distress Was all for her, and thought it were ruth To slay such one, if that he meant but truth.

. . . . . . . . . .

And, Lord! so gan she in her heart argue Of this mattere, of which I have you told And what to do best were, and what t’eschew, That plaited she full oft in many a fold.<24> Now was her hearte warm, now was it cold. And what she thought of, somewhat shall I write, As to mine author listeth to endite.

She thoughte first, that Troilus’ person She knew by sight, and eke his gentleness; And saide thus: *“All were it not to do’n,’* *although it were To grant him love, yet for the worthiness impossible* It were honour, with play* and with gladness, *pleasing entertainment In honesty with such a lord to deal, For mine estate,* and also for his heal.** *reputation **health

“Eke well I wot* my kinge’s son is he; *know And, since he hath to see me such delight, If I would utterly his sighte flee, Parauntre* he might have me in despite, *peradventure Through which I mighte stand in worse plight. <25> Now were I fool, me hate to purchase* *obtain for myself Withoute need, where I may stand in grace,* *favour

“In ev’rything, I wot, there lies measure;* *a happy medium For though a man forbidde drunkenness, He not forbids that ev’ry creature Be drinkeless for alway, as I guess; Eke, since I know for me is his distress, I oughte not for that thing him despise, Since it is so he meaneth in good wise.

“Now set a case, that hardest is, y-wis, Men mighte deeme* that he loveth me; *believe What dishonour were it unto me, this? May I *him let of* that? Why, nay, pardie! *prevent him from* I know also, and alway hear and see, Men love women all this town about; Be they the worse? Why, nay, withoute doubt!

“Nor me to love a wonder is it not; For well wot I myself, so God me speed! — *All would I* that no man wist of this thought — *although I would* I am one of the fairest, without drede,* *doubt And goodlieste, who so taketh heed; And so men say in all the town of Troy; What wonder is, though he on me have joy?

“I am mine owen woman, well at ease, I thank it God, as after mine estate, Right young, and stand untied in *lusty leas,* *pleasant leash Withoute jealousy, or such debate: (of love)* Shall none husband say to me checkmate; For either they be full of jealousy, Or masterful, or love novelty.

“What shall I do? to what fine* live I thus? *end Shall I not love, in case if that me lest? What? pardie! I am not religious;<26> And though that I mine hearte set at rest And keep alway mine honour and my name, By all right I may do to me no shame.”

But right as when the sunne shineth bright In March, that changeth oftentime his face, And that a cloud is put with wind to flight, Which overspreads the sun as for a space; A cloudy thought gan through her hearte pace,* *pass That overspread her brighte thoughtes all, So that for fear almost she gan to fall.

The cloudy thought is of the loss of liberty and security, the stormy life, and the malice of wicked tongues, that love entails:

[But] after that her thought began to clear, And saide, “He that nothing undertakes Nothing achieveth, be him *loth or dear.”* *unwilling or desirous* And with another thought her hearte quakes; Then sleepeth hope, and after dread awakes, Now hot, now cold; but thus betwixt the tway* *two She rist* her up, and wente forth to play.** *rose **take recreation

Adown the stair anon right then she went Into a garden, with her nieces three, And up and down they made many a went,* *winding, turn <12> Flexippe and she, Tarke, Antigone, To playe, that it joy was for to see; And other of her women, a great rout,* *troop Her follow’d in the garden all about.

This yard was large, and railed the alleys, And shadow’d well with blossomy boughes green, And benched new, and sanded all the ways, In which she walked arm and arm between; Till at the last Antigone the sheen* *bright, lovely Gan on a Trojan lay to singe clear, That it a heaven was her voice to hear.

Antigone’s song is of virtuous love for a noble object; and it is singularly fitted to deepen the impression made on the mind of Cressida by the brave aspect of Troilus, and by her own cogitations. The singer, having praised the lover and rebuked the revilers of love, proceeds:

“What is the Sunne worse of his *kind right,* *true nature* Though that a man, for feebleness of eyen, May not endure to see on it for bright? <27> Or Love the worse, tho’ wretches on it cryen? No weal* is worth, that may no sorrow drien;** <28> *happiness **endure And forthy,* who that hath a head of verre,** *therefore **glass <29> From cast of stones ware him in the werre. <30>

“But I, with all my heart and all my might, As I have lov’d, will love unto my last My deare heart, and all my owen knight, In which my heart y-growen is so fast, And his in me, that it shall ever last *All dread I* first to love him begin, *although I feared* Now wot I well there is no pain therein.”

Cressida sighs, and asks Antigone whether there is such bliss among these lovers, as they can fair endite; Antigone replies confidently in the affirmative; and Cressida answers nothing, “but every worde which she heard she gan to printen in her hearte fast.” Night draws on:

The daye’s honour, and the heaven’s eye, The nighte’s foe, — all this call I the Sun, — Gan westren* fast, and downward for to wry,** *go west <31> **turn As he that had his daye’s course y-run; And white thinges gan to waxe dun For lack of light, and starres to appear; Then she and all her folk went home in fere.* *in company

So, when it liked her to go to rest, And voided* were those that voiden ought, *gone out (of the house) She saide, that to sleepe well her lest.* *pleased Her women soon unto her bed her brought; When all was shut, then lay she still and thought Of all these things the manner and the wise; Rehearse it needeth not, for ye be wise.

A nightingale upon a cedar green, Under the chamber wall where as she lay, Full loude sang against the moone sheen, Parauntre,* in his birde’s wise, a lay *perchance Of love, that made her hearte fresh and gay; Hereat hark’d* she so long in good intent, *listened Till at the last the deade sleep her hent.* *seized

And as she slept, anon right then *her mette* *she dreamed* How that an eagle, feather’d white as bone, Under her breast his longe clawes set, And out her heart he rent, and that anon, And did* his heart into her breast to go’n, *caused Of which no thing she was *abash’d nor smert;* *amazed nor hurt* And forth he flew, with hearte left for heart.

Leaving Cressida to sleep, the poet returns to Troilus and his zealous friend — with whose stratagems to bring the two lovers together the remainder of the Second Book is occupied. Pandarus counsels Troilus to write a letter to his mistress, telling her how he “fares amiss,” and “beseeching her of ruth;” he will bear the letter to his niece; and, if Troilus will ride past Cressida’s house, he will find his mistress and his friend sitting at a window. Saluting Pandarus, and not tarrying, his passage will give occasion for some talk of him, which may make his ears glow. With respect to the letter, Pandarus gives some shrewd hints:

“Touching thy letter, thou art wise enough, I wot thou *n’ilt it dignely endite* *wilt not write it haughtily* Or make it with these argumentes tough, Nor scrivener-like, nor craftily it write; Beblot it with thy tears also a lite;* *little And if thou write a goodly word all soft, Though it be good, rehearse it not too oft.

“For though the beste harper *pon live* *alive Would on the best y-sounded jolly harp That ever was, with all his fingers five Touch ay one string, or *ay one warble harp,* *always play one tune* Were his nailes pointed ne’er so sharp, He shoulde maken ev’ry wight to dull* *to grow bored To hear his glee, and of his strokes full.

“Nor jompre* eke no discordant thing y-fere,** *jumble **together As thus, to use termes of physic; In love’s termes hold of thy mattere The form alway, and *do that it be like;* *make it consistent* For if a painter woulde paint a pike With ass’s feet, and head it as an ape,<32> It *’cordeth not,* so were it but a jape.” *is not harmonious*

Troilus writes the letter, and next morning Pandarus bears it to Cressida. She refuses to receive “scrip or bill that toucheth such mattere;” but he thrusts it into her bosom, challenging her to throw it away. She retains it, takes the first opportunity of escaping to her chamber to read it, finds it wholly good, and, under her uncle’s dictation, endites a reply telling her lover that she will not make herself bound in love; “but as his sister, him to please, she would aye fain [be glad] to do his heart an ease.” Pandarus, under pretext of inquiring who is the owner of the house opposite, has gone to the window; Cressida takes her letter to him there, and tells him that she never did a thing with more pain than write the words to which he had constrained her. As they sit side by side, on a stone of jasper, on a cushion of beaten gold, Troilus rides by, in all his goodliness. Cressida waxes “as red as rose,” as she sees him salute humbly, “with dreadful cheer, and oft his hues mue [change];” she likes “all y-fere, his person, his array, his look, his cheer, his goodly manner, and his gentleness;” so that, however she may have been before, “to goode hope now hath she caught a thorn, she shall not pull it out this nexte week.” Pandarus, striking the iron when it is hot, asks his niece to grant Troilus an interview; but she strenuously declines, for fear of scandal, and because it is all too soon to allow him so great a liberty — her purpose being to love him unknown of all, “and guerdon [reward] him with nothing but with sight.” Pandarus has other intentions; and, while Troilus writes daily letters with increasing love, he contrives the means of an interview. Seeking out Deiphobus, the brother of Troilus, he tells him that Cressida is in danger of violence from Polyphete, and asks protection for her. Deiphobus gladly complies, promises the protection of Hector and Helen, and goes to invite Cressida to dinner on the morrow. Meantime Pandarus instructs Troilus to go to the house of Deiphobus, plead an access of his fever for remaining all night, and keep his chamber next day. “Lo,” says the crafty promoter of love, borrowing a phrase from the hunting-field; “Lo, hold thee at thy tristre [tryst <33>] close, and I shall well the deer unto thy bowe drive.” Unsuspicious of stratagem, Cressida comes to dinner; and at table, Helen, Pandarus, and others, praise the absent Troilus, until “her heart laughs” for very pride that she has the love of such a knight. After dinner they speak of Cressida’s business; all confirm Deiphobus’ assurances of protection and aid; and Pandarus suggests that, since Troilus is there, Cressida shall herself tell him her case. Helen and Deiphobus alone accompany Pandarus to Troilus’ chamber; there Troilus produces some documents relating to the public weal, which Hector has sent for his opinion; Helen and Deiphobus, engrossed in perusal and discussion, roam out of the chamber, by a stair, into the garden; while Pandarus goes down to the hall, and, pretending that his brother and Helen are still with Troilus, brings Cressida to her lover. The Second Book leaves Pandarus whispering in his niece’s ear counsel to be merciful and kind to her lover, that hath for her such pain; while Troilus lies “in a kankerdort,” <34> hearing the whispering without, and wondering what he shall say for this “was the first time that he should her pray of love; O! mighty God! what shall he say?”

THE THIRD BOOK.

To the Third Book is prefixed a beautiful invocation of Venus, under the character of light:

O Blissful light, of which the beames clear Adornen all the thirde heaven fair! O Sunne’s love, O Jove’s daughter dear! Pleasance of love, O goodly debonair,* *lovely and gracious* In gentle heart ay* ready to repair!** *always **enter and abide O very* cause of heal** and of gladness, *true **welfare Y-heried* be thy might and thy goodness! *praised

In heav’n and hell, in earth and salte sea. Is felt thy might, if that I well discern; As man, bird, beast, fish, herb, and greene tree, They feel in times, with vapour etern, <35> God loveth, and to love he will not wern forbid And in this world no living creature Withoute love is worth, or may endure. <36>

Ye Jove first to those effectes glad, Through which that thinges alle live and be, Commended; and him amorous y-made Of mortal thing; and as ye list,* ay ye *pleased Gave him, in love, ease* or adversity, *pleasure And in a thousand formes down him sent For love in earth; and *whom ye list he hent.* *he seized whom you wished* Ye fierce Mars appeasen of his ire, And as you list ye make heartes dign* <37> *worthy Algates* them that ye will set afire, *at all events They dreade shame, and vices they resign Ye do* him courteous to be, and benign; *make, cause And high or low, after* a wight intendeth, *according as The joyes that he hath your might him sendeth.

Ye holde realm and house in unity; Ye soothfast* cause of friendship be also; *true Ye know all thilke *cover’d quality* *secret power* Of thinges which that folk on wonder so, When they may not construe how it may go She loveth him, or why he loveth her, As why this fish, not that, comes to the weir.*<38> *fish-trap

Knowing that Venus has set a law in the universe, that whoso strives with her shall have the worse, the poet prays to be taught to describe some of the joy that is felt in her service; and the Third Book opens with an account of the scene between Troilus and Cressida:

Lay all this meane while Troilus Recording* his lesson in this mannere; *memorizing *“My fay!”* thought he, “thus will I say, and thus; *by my faith!* Thus will I plain* unto my lady dear; *make my plaint That word is good; and this shall be my cheer This will I not forgetten in no wise;” God let him worken as he can devise.

And, Lord! so as his heart began to quap,* *quake, pant Hearing her coming, and *short for to sike;* *make short sighs* And Pandarus, that led her by the lap,* *skirt Came near, and gan in at the curtain pick,* *peep And saide: “God do boot* alle sick! *afford a remedy to See who is here you coming to visite; Lo! here is she that is *your death to wite!”* *to blame for your death*

Therewith it seemed as he wept almost. “Ah! ah! God help!” quoth Troilus ruefully; “Whe’er* me be woe, O mighty God, thou know’st! *whether Who is there? for I see not truely.” “Sir,” quoth Cresside, “it is Pandare and I; “Yea, sweete heart? alas, I may not rise To kneel and do you honour in some wise.”

And dressed him upward, and she right tho* *then Gan both her handes soft upon him lay. “O! for the love of God, do ye not so To me,” quoth she; “ey! what is this to say? For come I am to you for causes tway;* *two First you to thank, and of your lordship eke Continuance* I woulde you beseek.”** *protection **beseech

This Troilus, that heard his lady pray Him of lordship, wax’d neither quick nor dead; Nor might one word for shame to it say, <39> Although men shoulde smiten off his head. But, Lord! how he wax’d suddenly all red! And, Sir, his lesson, that he *ween’d have con,* *thought he knew To praye her, was through his wit y-run. by heart*

Cresside all this espied well enow, — For she was wise, — and lov’d him ne’er the less, All n’ere he malapert, nor made avow, Nor was so bold to sing a foole’s mass;<40> But, when his shame began somewhat to pass, His wordes, as I may my rhymes hold, I will you tell, as teache bookes old.

In changed voice, right for his very dread, Which voice eke quak’d, and also his mannere Goodly* abash’d, and now his hue is red, *becomingly Now pale, unto Cresside, his lady dear, With look downcast, and humble *yielden cheer,* *submissive face* Lo! *altherfirste word that him astert,* *the first word he said* Was twice: “Mercy, mercy, my dear heart!”

And stent* a while; and when he might *out bring,* *stopped *speak* The nexte was: “God wote, for I have, *As farforthly as I have conning,* *as far as I am able* Been youres all, God so my soule save, And shall, till that I, woeful wight, *be grave;* *die* And though I dare not, cannot, to you plain, Y-wis, I suffer not the lesse pain.

“This much as now, O womanlike wife! I may *out bring,* and if it you displease, *speak out* That shall I wreak* upon mine owne life, *avenge Right soon, I trow, and do your heart an ease, If with my death your heart I may appease: But, since that ye have heard somewhat say, Now reck I never how soon that I dey.” *die

Therewith his manly sorrow to behold It might have made a heart of stone to rue; And Pandare wept as he to water wo’ld, <41> And saide, “Woe-begone* be heartes true,” *in woeful plight And procur’d* his niece ever new and new, *urged “For love of Godde, make *of him an end,* *put him out of pain* Or slay us both at ones, ere we wend.”* *go

“Ey! what?” quoth she; “by God and by my truth, I know not what ye woulde that I say;” “Ey! what?” quoth he; “that ye have on him ruth,* *pity For Godde’s love, and do him not to dey.” *die “Now thenne thus,” quoth she, “I would him pray To telle me the *fine of his intent;* *end of his desire* Yet wist* I never well what that he meant.” *knew

“What that I meane, sweete hearte dear?” Quoth Troilus, “O goodly, fresh, and free! That, with the streames* of your eyne so clear, *beams, glances Ye woulde sometimes *on me rue and see,* *take pity and look on me* And then agreen* that I may be he, *take in good part Withoute branch of vice, in any wise, In truth alway to do you my service,

“As to my lady chief, and right resort, With all my wit and all my diligence; And for to have, right as you list, comfort; Under your yerd,* equal to mine offence, *rod, chastisement As death, if that *I breake your defence;* *do what you And that ye deigne me so much honour, forbid <42>* Me to commanden aught in any hour.

“And I to be your very humble, true, Secret, and in my paines patient, And evermore desire, freshly new, To serven, and be alike diligent, And, with good heart, all wholly your talent Receive in gree,* how sore that me smart; *gladness Lo, this mean I, mine owen sweete heart.”

. . . . . . . . . .

With that she gan her eyen on him* cast, <43> *Pandarus Full easily and full debonairly,* *graciously *Advising her,* and hied* not too fast, *considering* **went With ne’er a word, but said him softely, “Mine honour safe, I will well truely, And in such form as ye can now devise, Receive him* fully to my service; *Troilus

“Beseeching him, for Godde’s love, that he Would, in honour of truth and gentleness, As I well mean, eke meane well to me; And mine honour, with *wit and business,* *wisdom and zeal* Aye keep; and if I may do him gladness, From henceforth, y-wis I will not feign: Now be all whole, no longer do ye plain.

“But, natheless, this warn I you,” quoth she, “A kinge’s son although ye be, y-wis, Ye shall no more have sovereignety Of me in love, than right in this case is; Nor will I forbear, if ye do amiss, To wrathe* you, and, while that ye me serve, *be angry with, chide To cherish you, *right after ye deserve.* *as you deserve*

“And shortly, deare heart, and all my knight, Be glad, and drawe you to lustiness,* *pleasure And I shall truely, with all my might, Your bitter turnen all to sweeteness; If I be she that may do you gladness, For ev’ry woe ye shall recover a bliss:” And him in armes took, and gan him kiss.

Pandarus, almost beside himself for joy, falls on his knees to thank Venus and Cupid, declaring that for this miracle he hears all the bells ring; then, with a warning to be ready at his call to meet at his house, he parts the lovers, and attends Cressida while she takes leave of the household — Troilus all the time groaning at the deceit practised on his brother and Helen. When he has got rid of them by feigning weariness, Pandarus returns to the chamber, and spends the night with him in converse. The zealous friend begins to speak “in a sober wise” to Troilus, reminding him of his love-pains now all at an end.

“So that through me thou standest now in way To fare well; I say it for no boast; And know’st thou why? For, shame it is to say, For thee have I begun a game to play, Which that I never shall do eft* for other,** *again **another Although he were a thousand fold my brother.

“That is to say, for thee I am become, Betwixte game and earnest, such a mean* *means, instrument As make women unto men to come; Thou know’st thyselfe what that woulde mean; For thee have I my niece, of vices clean,* *pure, devoid So fully made thy gentleness* to trust, *nobility of nature That all shall be right *as thyselfe lust.* *as you please*

“But God, that *all wot,* take I to witness, *knows everything* That never this for covetise* I wrought, *greed of gain But only to abridge* thy distress, *abate For which well nigh thou diedst, as me thought; But, goode brother, do now as thee ought, For Godde’s love, and keep her out of blame; Since thou art wise, so save thou her name.

“For, well thou know’st, the name yet of her, Among the people, as who saith hallow’d is; For that man is unborn, I dare well swear, That ever yet wist* that she did amiss; *knew But woe is me, that I, that cause all this, May thinke that she is my niece dear, And I her eme,* and traitor eke y-fere.** *uncle <17> **as well

“And were it wist that I, through mine engine,* *arts, contrivance Had in my niece put this fantasy* *fancy To do thy lust,* and wholly to be thine, *pleasure Why, all the people would upon it cry, And say, that I the worste treachery Did in this case, that ever was begun, And she fordone,* and thou right naught y-won.” *ruined

Therefore, ere going a step further, Pandarus prays Troilus to give him pledges of secrecy, and impresses on his mind the mischiefs that flow from vaunting in affairs of love. “Of kind,”[by his very nature] he says, no vaunter is to be believed:

“For a vaunter and a liar all is one; As thus: I pose* a woman granteth me *suppose, assume Her love, and saith that other will she none, And I am sworn to holden it secre, And, after, I go tell it two or three; Y-wis, I am a vaunter, at the least, And eke a liar, for I break my hest.*<44> *promise

“Now looke then, if they be not to blame, Such manner folk; what shall I call them, what? That them avaunt of women, and by name, That never yet behight* them this nor that, *promised (much Nor knowe them no more than mine old hat? less granted) No wonder is, so God me sende heal,* *prosperity Though women dreade with us men to deal!

“I say not this for no mistrust of you, Nor for no wise men, but for fooles nice;* *silly <45> And for the harm that in the world is now, As well for folly oft as for malice; For well wot I, that in wise folk that vice No woman dreads, if she be well advised; For wise men be by fooles’ harm chastised.”* *corrected, instructed

So Pandarus begs Troilus to keep silent, promises to be true all his days, and assures him that he shall have all that he will in the love of Cressida: “thou knowest what thy lady granted thee; and day is set the charters up to make.”

Who mighte telle half the joy and feast Which that the soul of Troilus then felt, Hearing th’effect of Pandarus’ behest? His olde woe, that made his hearte swelt,* *faint, die Gan then for joy to wasten and to melt, And all the reheating <46> of his sighes sore At ones fled, he felt of them no more.

But right so as these *holtes and these hayes,* *woods and hedges* That have in winter deade been and dry, Reveste them in greene, when that May is, When ev’ry *lusty listeth* best to play; *pleasant (one) wishes* Right in that selfe wise, sooth to say, Wax’d suddenly his hearte full of joy, That gladder was there never man in Troy.

Troilus solemnly swears that never, “for all the good that God made under sun,” will he reveal what Pandarus asks him to keep secret; offering to die a thousand times, if need were, and to follow his friend as a slave all his life, in proof of his gratitude.

“But here, with all my heart, I thee beseech, That never in me thou deeme* such folly *judge As I shall say; me thoughte, by thy speech, That this which thou me dost for company,* *friendship I shoulde ween it were a bawdery;* *a bawd’s action *I am not wood, all if I lewed be;* *I am not mad, though It is not one, that wot I well, pardie! I be unlearned*

“But he that goes for gold, or for richess, On such messages, call him *as thee lust;* *what you please* And this that thou dost, call it gentleness, Compassion, and fellowship, and trust; Depart it so, for widewhere is wist How that there is diversity requer’d Betwixte thinges like, as I have lear’d. <47>

“And that thou know I think it not nor ween,* *suppose That this service a shame be or a jape, *subject for jeering I have my faire sister Polyxene, Cassandr’, Helene, or any of the frape;* *set <48> Be she never so fair, or well y-shape, Telle me which thou wilt of ev’ry one, To have for thine, and let me then alone.”

Then, beseeching Pandarus soon to perform out the great enterprise of crowning his love for Cressida, Troilus bade his friend good night. On the morrow Troilus burned as the fire, for hope and pleasure; yet “he not forgot his wise governance [self- control];”

But in himself with manhood gan restrain Each rakel* deed, and each unbridled cheer,** *rash **demeanour That alle those that live, sooth to sayn, Should not have wist,* by word or by mannere, *suspicion What that he meant, as touching this mattere; From ev’ry wight as far as is the cloud He was, so well dissimulate he could.

And all the while that I now devise* *describe, narrate This was his life: with all his fulle might, By day he was in Marte’s high service, That is to say, in armes as a knight; And, for the moste part, the longe night He lay, and thought how that he mighte serve His lady best, her thank* for to deserve. *gratitude

I will not swear, although he laye soft, That in his thought he n’as somewhat diseas’d;* *troubled Nor that he turned on his pillows oft, And would of that him missed have been seis’d;* *possessed But in such case men be not alway pleas’d, For aught I wot, no more than was he; That can I deem* of possibility. *judge

But certain is, to purpose for to go, That in this while, as written is in gest,* *the history of He saw his lady sometimes, and also these events She with him spake, when that she *durst and lest;* *dared and pleased* And, by their both advice,* as was the best, *consultation *Appointed full warily* in this need, *made careful preparations* So as they durst, how far they would proceed.

But it was spoken in *so short a wise, *so briefly, and always in such In such await alway, and in such fear, vigilance and fear of being Lest any wight divinen or devise* found out by anyone* Would of their speech, or to it lay an ear, *That all this world them not so lefe were,* *they wanted more than As that Cupido would them grace send anything in the world* To maken of their speeches right an end.

But thilke little that they spake or wrought, His wise ghost* took ay of all such heed, *spirit It seemed her he wiste what she thought Withoute word, so that it was no need To bid him aught to do, nor aught forbid; For which she thought that love, all* came it late, *although Of alle joy had open’d her the gate.

Troilus, by his discretion, his secrecy, and his devotion, made ever a deeper lodgment in Cressida’s heart; so that she thanked God twenty thousand times that she had met with a man who, as she felt, “was to her a wall of steel, and shield from ev’ry displeasance;” while Pandarus ever actively fanned the fire. So passed a “time sweet” of tranquil and harmonious love the only drawback being, that the lovers might not often meet, “nor leisure have, their speeches to fulfil.” At last Pandarus found an occasion for bringing them together at his house unknown to anybody, and put his plan in execution.

For he, with great deliberation, Had ev’ry thing that hereto might avail* *be of service Forecast, and put in execution, And neither left for cost nor for travail;* *effort Come if them list, them shoulde nothing fail, *Nor for to be in aught espied there, That wiste he an impossible were.* *he knew it was impossible* that they could be discovered there* And dreadeless* it clear was in the wind *without doubt Of ev’ry pie, and every let-game; <49> Now all is well, for all this world is blind, In this mattere, bothe fremd* and tame; <50> *wild This timber is all ready for to frame; Us lacketh naught, but that we weete* wo’ld *know A certain hour in which we come sho’ld. <51>

Troilus had informed his household, that if at any time he was missing, he had gone to worship at a certain temple of Apollo, “and first to see the holy laurel quake, or that the godde spake out of the tree.” So, at the changing of the moon, when “the welkin shope him for to rain,” [when the sky was preparing to rain] Pandarus went to invite his niece to supper; solemnly assuring her that Troilus was out of the town — though all the time he was safely shut up, till midnight, in “a little stew,” whence through a hole he joyously watched the arrival of his mistress and her fair niece Antigone, with half a score of her women. After supper Pandaras did everything to amuse his niece; “he sung, he play’d, he told a tale of Wade;” <52> at last she would take her leave; but

The bente Moone with her hornes pale, Saturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were, <53> That made such a rain from heav’n avail,* *descend That ev’ry manner woman that was there Had of this smoky rain <54> a very fear; At which Pandarus laugh’d, and saide then “Now were it time a lady to go hen!”* *hence

He therefore presses Cressida to remain all night; she complies with a good grace; and after the sleeping cup has gone round, all retire to their chambers — Cressida, that she may not be disturbed by the rain and thunder, being lodged in the “inner closet” of Pandarus, who, to lull suspicion, occupies the outer chamber, his niece’s women sleeping in the intermediate apartment. When all is quiet, Pandarus liberates Troilus, and by a secret passage brings him to the chamber of Cressida; then, going forward alone to his niece, after calming her fears of discovery, he tells her that her lover has “through a gutter, by a privy went,” [a secret passage] come to his house in all this rain, mad with grief because a friend has told him that she loves Horastes. Suddenly cold about her heart, Cressida promises that on the morrow she will reassure her lover; but Pandarus scouts the notion of delay, laughs to scorn her proposal to send her ring in pledge of her truth, and finally, by pitiable accounts of Troilus’ grief, induces her to receive him and reassure him at once with her own lips.

This Troilus full soon on knees him set, Full soberly, right by her bedde’s head, And in his beste wise his lady gret* *greeted But Lord! how she wax’d suddenly all red, And thought anon how that she would be dead; She coulde not one word aright out bring, So suddenly for his sudden coming.

Cressida, though thinking that her servant and her knight should not have doubted her truth, yet sought to remove his jealousy, and offered to submit to any ordeal or oath he might impose; then, weeping, she covered her face, and lay silent. “But now,” exclaims the poet —

But now help, God, to quenchen all this sorrow! So hope I that he shall, for he best may; For I have seen, of a full misty morrow,* *morn Followen oft a merry summer’s day, And after winter cometh greene May; Folk see all day, and eke men read in stories, That after sharpe stoures* be victories. *conflicts, struggles

Believing his mistress to be angry, Troilus felt the cramp of death seize on his heart, “and down he fell all suddenly in swoon.” Pandarus “into bed him cast,” and called on his niece to pull out the thorn that stuck in his heart, by promising that she would “all forgive.” She whispered in his ear the assurance that she was not wroth; and at last, under her caresses, he recovered consciousness, to find her arm laid over him, to hear the assurance of her forgiveness, and receive her frequent kisses. Fresh vows and explanations passed; and Cressida implored forgiveness of “her own sweet heart,” for the pain she had caused him. Surprised with sudden bliss, Troilus put all in God’s hand, and strained his lady fast in his arms. “What might or may the seely [innocent] larke say, when that the sperhawk [sparrowhawk] hath him in his foot?”

Cressida, which that felt her thus y-take, As write clerkes in their bookes old, Right as an aspen leaf began to quake, When she him felt her in his armes fold; But Troilus, all *whole of cares cold,* *cured of painful sorrows*<55> Gan thanke then the blissful goddes seven. <56> Thus sundry paines bringe folk to heaven.

This Troilus her gan in armes strain, And said, “O sweet, as ever may I go’n,* *prosper Now be ye caught, now here is but we twain, Now yielde you, for other boot* is none.” *remedy To that Cresside answered thus anon, “N’ had I ere now, my sweete hearte dear, *Been yolden,* y-wis, I were now not here!” *yielded myself*

O sooth is said, that healed for to be Of a fever, or other great sickness, Men muste drink, as we may often see, Full bitter drink; and for to have gladness Men drinken often pain and great distress! I mean it here, as for this adventure, That thorough pain hath founden all his cure.

And now sweetnesse seemeth far more sweet, That bitterness assayed* was beforn; *tasted <57> For out of woe in blisse now they fleet,* *float, swim None such they felte since that they were born; Now is it better than both two were lorn! <58> For love of God, take ev’ry woman heed To worke thus, if it come to the need!

Cresside, all quit from ev’ry dread and teen,* *pain As she that juste cause had him to trust, Made him such feast,<59> it joy was for to see’n, When she his truth and *intent cleane wist;* *knew the purity And as about a tree, with many a twist, of his purpose* *Bitrent and writhen* is the sweet woodbind, *plaited and wreathed* Gan each of them in armes other wind.* *embrace, encircle

And as the *new abashed* nightingale, *newly-arrived and timid* That stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing, *stops When that she heareth any *herde’s tale,* *the talking of a shepherd* Or in the hedges any wight stirring; And, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring; *confidently Right so Cressida, when *her dreade stent,* *her doubt ceased* Open’d her heart, and told him her intent.* *mind

And might as he that sees his death y-shapen,* *prepared And dien must, *in aught that he may guess,* *for all he can tell* And suddenly *rescouse doth him escapen,* *he is rescued and escapes* And from his death is brought *in sickerness;* *to safety* For all the world, in such present gladness Was Troilus, and had his lady sweet; With worse hap God let us never meet!

Her armes small, her straighte back and soft, Her sides longe, fleshly, smooth, and white, He gan to stroke; and good thrift* bade full oft *blessing On her snow-white throat, her breastes round and lite;* *small Thus in this heaven he gan him delight, And therewithal a thousand times her kist, That what to do for joy *unneth he wist.* *he hardly knew*

The lovers exchanged vows, and kisses, and embraces, and speeches of exalted love, and rings; Cressida gave to Troilus a brooch of gold and azure, “in which a ruby set was like a heart;” and the too short night passed.

“When that the cock, commune astrologer, <60> Gan on his breast to beat, and after crow, And Lucifer, the daye’s messenger, Gan for to rise, and out his beames throw; And eastward rose, to him that could it know, Fortuna Major, <61> then anon Cresseide, With hearte sore, to Troilus thus said:

“My hearte’s life, my trust, and my pleasance! That I was born, alas! that me is woe, That day of us must make disseverance! For time it is to rise, and hence to go, Or else I am but lost for evermo’. O Night! alas! why n’ilt thou o’er us hove,* *hover As long as when Alcmena lay by Jove? <62>

“O blacke Night! as folk in bookes read That shapen* art by God, this world to hide, *appointed At certain times, with thy darke weed,* *robe That under it men might in rest abide, Well oughte beastes plain, and folke chide, That where as Day with labour would us brest,* *burst, overcome There thou right flee’st, and deignest* not us rest.* *grantest

“Thou dost, alas! so shortly thine office,* *duty Thou rakel* Night! that God, maker of kind, *rash, hasty Thee for thy haste and thine unkinde vice, So fast ay to our hemisphere bind, That never more under the ground thou wind;* *turn, revolve For through thy rakel hieing* out of Troy *hasting Have I forgone* thus hastily my joy!” *lost

This Troilus, that with these wordes felt, As thought him then, for piteous distress, The bloody teares from his hearte melt, As he that never yet such heaviness Assayed had out of so great gladness, Gan therewithal Cresside, his lady dear, In armes strain, and said in this mannere: