The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems
He is a fool that will forget himselve.”
But natheless, this thought he well enough,
That “Certainly I am aboute naught,
If that I speak of love, or *make it tough;* *make any violent
For, doubteless, if she have in her thought immediate effort*
Him that I guess, he may not be y-brought
So soon away; but I shall find a mean,
That she *not wit as yet shall* what I mean.” *shall not yet know*
So he began a general conversation, assured her of not less
friendship and honour among the Greeks than she had enjoyed
in Troy, and requested of her earnestly to treat him as a brother
and accept his service — for, at last he said, “I am and shall be
ay, while that my life may dure, your own, aboven ev’ry
creature.
“Thus said I never e’er now to woman born;
For, God mine heart as wisly* gladden so! *surely
I loved never woman herebeforn,
As paramours, nor ever shall no mo’;
And for the love of God be not my foe,
All* can I not to you, my lady dear, *although
Complain aright, for I am yet to lear.* *teach
“And wonder not, mine owen lady bright,
Though that I speak of love to you thus blive;* *soon
For I have heard ere this of many a wight
That loved thing he ne’er saw in his live;
Eke I am not of power for to strive
Against the god of Love, but him obey
I will alway, and mercy I you pray.”
Cressida answered his discourses as though she scarcely heard
them; yet she thanked him for his trouble and courtesy, and
accepted his offered friendship — promising to trust him, as well
she might. Then she alighted from her steed, and, with her heart
nigh breaking, was welcomed to the embrace of her father.
Meanwhile Troilus, back in Troy, was lamenting with tears the
loss of his love, despairing of his or her ability to survive the ten
days, and spending the night in wailing, sleepless tossing, and
troublous dreams. In the morning he was visited by Pandarus,
to whom he gave directions for his funeral; desiring that the
powder into which his heart was burned should be kept in a
golden urn, and given to Cressida. Pandarus renewed his old
counsels and consolations, reminded his friend that ten days
were a short time to wait, argued against his faith in evil
dreams, and urged him to take advantage of the truce, and
beguile the time by a visit to King Sarpedon (a Lycian Prince
who had come to aid the Trojans). Sarpedon entertained them
splendidly; but no feasting, no pomp, no music of instruments,
no singing of fair ladies, could make up for the absence of
Cressida to the desolate Troilus, who was for ever poring upon
her old letters, and recalling her loved form. Thus he “drove to
an end” the fourth day, and would have then returned to Troy,
but for the remonstrances of Pandarus, who asked if they had
visited Sarpedon only to fetch fire? At last, at the end of a
week, they returned to Troy; Troilus hoping to find Cressida
again in the city, Pandarus entertaining a scepticism which he
concealed from his friend. The morning after their return,
Troilus was impatient till he had gone to the palace of Cressida;
but when he found her doors all closed, “well nigh for sorrow
adown he gan to fall.”
Therewith, when he was ware, and gan behold
How shut was ev’ry window of the place,
As frost him thought his hearte *gan to cold;* *began to grow cold*
For which, with changed deadly pale face,
Withoute word, he forth began to pace;
And, as God would, he gan so faste ride,
That no wight of his countenance espied.
Then said he thus: “O palace desolate!
O house of houses, *whilom beste hight!* *formerly called best*
O palace empty and disconsolate!
O thou lantern, of which quench’d is the light!
O palace, whilom day, that now art night!
Well oughtest thou to fall, and I to die,
Since she is gone that wont was us to guy!* *guide, rule
“O palace, whilom crown of houses all,
Illumined with sun of alle bliss!
O ring, from which the ruby is out fall!
O cause of woe, that cause hast been of bliss!
Yet, since I may no bet, fain would I kiss
Thy colde doores, durst I for this rout;
And farewell shrine, of which the saint is out!”
. . . . . . . . . . .
From thence forth he rideth up and down,
And ev’ry thing came him to remembrance,
As he rode by the places of the town,
In which he whilom had all his pleasance;
“Lo! yonder saw I mine own lady dance;
And in that temple, with her eyen clear,
Me caughte first my righte lady dear.
“And yonder have I heard full lustily
My deare hearte laugh; and yonder play:
Saw I her ones eke full blissfully;
And yonder ones to me gan she say,
‘Now, goode sweete! love me well, I pray;’
And yond so gladly gan she me behold,
That to the death my heart is to her hold.* *holden, bound
“And at that corner, in the yonder house,
Heard I mine allerlevest* lady dear, *dearest of all
So womanly, with voice melodious,
Singe so well, so goodly and so clear,
That in my soule yet me thinks I hear
The blissful sound; and in that yonder place
My lady first me took unto her grace.”
Then he went to the gates, and gazed along the way by which
he had attended Cressida at her departure; then he fancied that
all the passers-by pitied him; and thus he drove forth a day or
two more, singing a song, of few words, which he had made to
lighten his heart:
“O star, of which I lost have all the light,
With hearte sore well ought I to bewail,
That ever dark in torment, night by night,
Toward my death, with wind I steer and sail;
For which, the tenthe night, if that I fail* *miss; be left without
The guiding of thy beames bright an hour,
My ship and me Charybdis will devour.”
By night he prayed the moon to run fast about her sphere; by
day he reproached the tardy sun — dreading that Phaethon had
come to life again, and was driving the chariot of Apollo out of
its straight course. Meanwhile Cressida, among the Greeks, was
bewailing the refusal of her father to let her return, the certainty
that her lover would think her false, and the hopelessness of any
attempt to steal away by night. Her bright face waxed pale, her
limbs lean, as she stood all day looking toward Troy; thinking
on her love and all her past delights, regretting that she had not
followed the counsel of Troilus to steal away with him, and
finally vowing that she would at all hazards return to the city.
But she was fated, ere two months, to be full far from any such
intention; for Diomede now brought all his skill into play, to
entice Cressida into his net. On the tenth day, Diomede, “as
fresh as branch in May,” came to the tent of Cressida, feigning
business with Calchas.
Cresside, at shorte wordes for to tell,
Welcomed him, and down by her him set,
And he was *eath enough to make dwell;* *easily persuaded to stay*
And after this, withoute longe let,* *delay
The spices and the wine men forth him fet,* *fetched
And forth they speak of this and that y-fere,* *together
As friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.
He gan first fallen of the war in speech
Between them and the folk of Troye town,
And of the siege he gan eke her beseech
To tell him what was her opinioun;
From that demand he so descended down
To aske her, if that her strange thought
The Greekes’ guise,* and workes that they wrought. *fashion
And why her father tarried* so long *delayed
To wedde her unto some worthy wight.
Cressida, that was in her paines strong
For love of Troilus, her owen knight,
So farforth as she cunning* had or might, *ability
Answer’d him then; but, as for his intent,* *purpose
It seemed not she wiste* what he meant. *knew
But natheless this ilke* Diomede *same
Gan *in himself assure,* and thus he said; *grow confident*
“If I aright have *taken on you heed,* *observed you*
Me thinketh thus, O lady mine Cresside,
That since I first hand on your bridle laid,
When ye out came of Troye by the morrow,
Ne might I never see you but in sorrow.
“I cannot say what may the cause be,
But if for love of some Trojan it were;
*The which right sore would a-thinke me* *which it would much
That ye for any wight that dwelleth there pain me to think*
Should [ever] spill* a quarter of a tear, *shed
Or piteously yourselfe so beguile;* *deceive
For dreadeless* it is not worth the while. *undoubtedly
“The folk of Troy, as who saith, all and some
In prison be, as ye yourselfe see;
From thence shall not one alive come
For all the gold betwixte sun and sea;
Truste this well, and understande me;
There shall not one to mercy go alive,
All* were he lord of worldes twice five. *although
. . . . . . . . . . . .
“What will ye more, lovesome lady dear?
Let Troy and Trojan from your hearte pace;
Drive out that bitter hope, and make good cheer,
And call again the beauty of your face,
That ye with salte teares so deface;
For Troy is brought into such jeopardy,
That it to save is now no remedy.
“And thinke well, ye shall in Greekes find
A love more perfect, ere that it be night,
Than any Trojan is, and more kind,
And better you to serve will do his might;
And, if ye vouchesafe, my lady bright,
I will be he, to serve you, myselve, —
Yea, lever* than be a lord of Greekes twelve!” *rather
And with that word he gan to waxe red,
And in his speech a little while he quoke,* *quaked; trembled
And cast aside a little with his head,
And stint a while; and afterward he woke,
And soberly on her he threw his look,
And said, “I am, albeit to you no joy,
As gentle* man as any wight in Troy. *high-born
“But, hearte mine! since that I am your man,* *leigeman, subject
And [you] be the first of whom I seeke grace, (in love)
To serve you as heartily as I can,
And ever shall, while I to live have space,
So, ere that I depart out of this place,
Ye will me grante that I may, to-morrow,
At better leisure, telle you my sorrow.”
Why should I tell his wordes that he said?
He spake enough for one day at the mest;* *most
It proveth well he spake so, that Cresseide
Granted upon the morrow, at his request,
Farther to speake with him, at the least,
So that he would not speak of such mattere;
And thus she said to him, as ye may hear:
As she that had her heart on Troilus
So faste set, that none might it arace;* *uproot <83>
And strangely* she spake, and saide thus; *distantly, unfriendlily
“O Diomede! I love that ilke place
Where I was born; and Jovis, for his grace,
Deliver it soon of all that doth it care!* *afflict
God, for thy might, so *leave it* well to fare!” *grant it*
She knows that the Greeks would fain wreak their wrath on
Troy, if they might; but that shall never befall: she knows that
there are Greeks of high condition — though as worthy men
would be found in Troy: and she knows that Diomede could
serve his lady well.
“But, as to speak of love, y-wis,” she said,
“I had a lord, to whom I wedded was, <84>
He whose mine heart was all, until he died;
And other love, as help me now Pallas,
There in my heart nor is, nor ever was;
And that ye be of noble and high kindred,
I have well heard it tellen, out of dread.* *doubt
“And that doth* me to have so great a wonder *causeth