Chapter 63

“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.