1385
                       TROILUS AND CRISEYDE

                       by Geoffrey Chaucer









țiElectronically Enhanced Text (c) Copyright 1996, World Library(R)
DAK Upgraded Edition, Copyright 2000, DAK Industries 2000, Inc(R)țI

{BK1
                               Book I


  To tell the double sorrow in his love that Troilus had, son of
King Priam of Troy, how his lot passed from woe to weal and afterwards
to woe again, this is my purpose ere I part from you. Tisiphone,
help thou me to endite these dolorous verses, that drop like tears
from my pen; to thee I call, goddess of anguish, cruel Fury, ever
sorrowing in pain; help me, the sorrowful instrument, that as well
as I can help lovers to wail. For fitting is a dreary comrade to a
woeful wight, and a sorry cheer to a sorrowful history. For I, the
servant of Love's servants, dare not pray Love to speed me, though I
die, so unpleasing am I, so far in the dark distance from him. But
if my verse may bring gladness to any lover and avail him with his
lady, to me be the travail and to him the thanks. But ye lovers that
bathe in bliss, if any drop of pity be in you, remember your own
past heaviness, and other folk's adversity, and think how ye too
have felt Love's displeasure (or ye won him too easily), and pray
for them that be in the case of Troilus, as ye shall hear, that Love
may bring them to the heaven of fruition; and pray eke for me to
dear God that I may have might to show in Troilus' luckless lot
somewhat of such pain and woe as Love's folk endure. And pray eke
for them that be in despair and may never be healed, and for them that
be hurt by slanderous tongues, pray God of His mercy to grant them
soon to pass out of this world that are in despair of Love's grace.
And pray eke for those in joy, that God grant them ever good
continuance and might so to please their ladies that it be honor and
pleasure to Love's deity. For so I hope best to profit my soul,
praying for Love's servants, writing their woe and living in
charity, and having pity of them as if I were their own brother. Now
hearken with good will, for now I go straight to my matter, where ye
may hear the double sorrows of Troilus' love for Criseyde, and how
in the end she forsook him.
  It is well known how the valiant Greeks went armed toward Troy in
a thousand ships, besieged the city nigh ten years, and wrought all
their harm in diverse ways but with one intent, to avenge the
ravishment of Helen done by Paris. Now it befell that there dwelt in
the town a lord of great authority, a great seer named Calchas, so
expert in wisdom through the replies of his god, Lord Phoebus, or
Delphic Apollo, that he foreknew Troy must be destroyed. So when
this Calchas knew by reckoning and eke by answer of Apollo that the
Greeks should bring such a force as should overthrow the city, he laid
his plan to leave it anon; for well he knew by divination that Troy
should be destroyed. Wherefore this prophetic sage took full purpose
to depart in secret, and stole away privily to the Greeks' host, and
they in courteous wise received him worshipfully and humbly, in hope
that he had cunning to counsel them in every peril which they had to
fear.
  A clamor rose through all the town, when this was first perceived,
and it was everywhere said that Calchas was fled as a traitor and
allied with them of Greece; and men thought to be avenged on him
that had thus falsely broken his faith, and said that he and all his
kin together were worthy to be burned, skin and bone. Now in these
straits and all unknowing of his false and wicked deed, Calchas had
left his daughter, in much trouble, sore in dread for her life, not
knowing what to do; for she was a widow and without a friend to whom
to make her moan. Criseyde was this lady's name; to my belief, in
all Troy-town was none so fair, for so surpassing and angelic was
her beauty that she seemed a thing immortal, a heavenly perfect
creature sent down in scorn of earthly nature. This lady, that heard
all day in her ear of her father's shame, falseness and treason, was
wellnigh out of her wit for dread and sorrow, and in her flowing
widow's habit of brown samite she fell on her knees before Hector, and
with piteous voice and tender weeping made her defence and begged
his grace. Now this Hector was pitiful of nature, and seeing how
wo-begone and fair she was, of his benignity he cheered her and
said: 'Forget your father's treason, a plague on it!, and you
yourself, while you list, dwell here with us in joy; and all the honor
shall you have that men could do you if your father dwelt here
still; and your body shall ever be protected, as far as my knowledge
may go.' She thanked him with humble cheer, and would have thanked him
more if he had suffered her; took her leave and kept herself quietly
at home, with such household as behooved her station. As long as she
dwelt in that city she observed her dignity, and was full well beloved
and spoken of by young and old. But whether she had children or not
I cannot learn from my books, wherefore I pass that over.
  Events fell betwixt the Greeks and Trojans as they do in war; for
one day they of Troy paid dearly, and another day they of Greece found
the Trojans no whit soft, and thus both in turn, up and down,
Fortune whirled on her wheel. But to tell all this, and how the town
came to destruction, is not in my purpose; it were a long digression
from my matter and would delay you too long. The events about Troy,
how they befell, whosoever can may read in Homer or in Dares or in
Dictys.
  But though the Greeks shut in them of Troy and besieged their city
all about, yet they would not leave their old usages in devoutly
honoring their gods. And in especial honor they held a relic called
Palladium, that was their trust above every other. And so befell in
the time of April, when the mead is clothed with the new green of
lusty Ver the spring, and with sweet-smelling flowers white and red,
in sundry wise the folk of Troy did their old observances, as I read
in the book, and held the feast of the Palladium, and to the temple
went solemnly many a wight to hear the service of the relic; and
especially went many a lusty knight, and many a bright lady, and
fair maiden high and low, full well arrayed, both for the season and
the feast. Amongst other folk was Criseyde; in black widow's habit,
but none the less, even as the first of our letters is now an A, so
stood she first, matchless in beauty. Her goodly looks gladdened all
the throng; never was seen thing more to be praised, nor under a black
cloud so bright a star as was Criseyde; so said all folk that beheld
her in her black weeds. And yet she stood alone behind others, full
low and still, in little space and nigh the door, ever bashful and
gentle, simple of attire, yet confident in eye and manner. Now
Troilus, as he was wont, with his young knights, was going around
and about in that broad temple ever beholding the ladies of the
town; for no devotion had he to any, to lose sleep for her, but
praised and censured whom he would, and as he walked about he
watched keenly if any knight or squire of his retinue would sigh or
let his eyes feed on any woman. Then he would smile and hold it folly,
and say, She sleeps sweetly, God wot, whilst you roll and turn! Perdy,
I have heard tell of your lovers' lives and your moonish devotion, and
what labor you have to win love and what perplexity to keep it, and
when your prey is lost, woe and dolor! You very fools, fond and blind;
not one can beware by others!
  And with that word he turned up his face as if to say, 'Lo! is not
this wisely said?' At which the God of Love began to lower for very
ire, and planned to be avenged; and anon he showed indeed that his bow
was not broken, for suddenly he hit him squarely. And still, oh
blind world and purpose of man! can he pluck as proud a peacock. How
often falls the event contrary to overweening and foul presumption,
for caught is the proud and caught is the humble! This Troilus has
climbed aloft, and little weens that he must come down. But ever
fail fools' thoughts. When proud Bayard feels his corn, he skips out
of the road, till the long lash hits him, and then he thinks,
'though I prance ahead first in the traces, full fat and newly
clipped, yet I am but a horse, and I must endure a horse's lot and tug
with my fellows.' So fared this fierce proud knight, though he were
son to a noble king and deemed naught could stir his heart against his
will; yet with a look his heart blazed up, so that he who but now
was most lifted up with pride suddenly grew most subjected to love.
Therefore, all ye wise and proud and noble, take example by this man
not to scorn Love, that can so soon enthrall to him the freedom of
your hearts. For ever it was and ever will be that Love can bind all
things, and no man can annul the law of Nature. This ye all know, that
men read of none that have had greater wit than they who have been
most subdued by Love, and the strongest and highest of degree have
been overcome by him. This ever was so, and is, and men shall ever see
it, and truly it fits well to be so; for the wisest of all have
rejoiced in love, and they most in woe have been most comforted, and
often love has appeased the cruel heart and made the noble nobler of
repute and caused them to dread vice and infamy. Therefore, since Love
cannot well be withstood but can bind you as he will, and since he
is so virtuous of nature, refuse not to be bondman to him. The staff
is better that bends than that which breaks.
  But to leave other collateral things, I mean to tell on my tale
especially of this king's son, both of his joy and of his cold
cares, and of all his deeds in this affair. This Troilus was going
forth about the temple in his sport, looking now on this lady, and now
on that, whether she were of the town or of the country-side, and it
fell by chance that his eye pierced through a crowd and lighted on
Criseyde, and there it stopped. Suddenly astonied, he began to
behold her better and more carefully. 'O God-a-mercy,' thought he,
'where have you dwelt before that are so fair and goodly to see?'
Therewith his heart began to swell, and he sighed, softly lest men
should hear him, and then he put on again his first sportive air.
  She was not among the smallest of her stature, but all her limbs
answered so well to womanly perfection that never creature seemed less
masculine. The very manner of her moving let a man guess her high
estate and womanly nobility. Wondrous well Troilus began to like her
movements and her bearing, which was a little scornful, for she let
her look fall a little on one side as if to say, 'what! may I not
stand here?' And after that her face brightened a little, till it
seemed as if he had never seen so good a sight. There began to quicken
in him so great a desire that the fixed impression of her began to
fasten in his heart's bottom, and though before he had let his eye
rove, he was fain then to let his horns shrink in till he scarce
knew how to look. Lo! he that thought himself so wise, and scorned
them that suffer love's pains, was full unaware that Love dwelt within
the subtle beams of her eyes, until with her look he seemed suddenly
to feel the spirit die in his heart. Blessed be Love that can thus
convert men! Thus he stood to behold her in her black garb, nor made a
sign nor said a word to tell his desire or why he stood thus. To
maintain his former air he sometimes cast his look on other things,
and then once more on her, as long as the service lasted, and
afterwards, wellnigh confounded, he went softly out of the temple
repenting that he had ever jested at Love's folk, lest the load of
mockery should fall on himself; but he hid his woe, lest it should
be known on any side.
  When he had thus gone from the temple, he straight returned to his
palace, shot through with her look as with a dart. Yet still he
feigned joyousness, and brightened all his visage and speech, and ever
smiled at Love's servants, saying, 'Lord! how joyously you lovers
live! As often woe as weal betides the cunningest of you, that
serves most attentively. Your hire is paid you; but how, God wot!
Not well for well, but scorn for good service. In faith, your order is
nobly ruled. All your rites may prove in vain, save for a few
pitiful matters; and yet no faith demands such devotion as yours,
you know full well. And that is not the worst, by my troth, but if I
told you the worst point, however truly I spoke you would chide at me.
But consider this, whatever with the best intent you do or leave
undone, full often your lady will misconstrue and take it ill. If
she be wroth, for any reason, you will have a groaning-time. Ah, happy
is he that can be one of you!'
  But for all this talk he held his peace when he could; love began so
to lime his feathers that he was scarce able to feign to his retinue
that he was oppressed by other cares. He knew not what to do for
woe, and bade his men go where they would. When he was alone in his
chamber, he sat down upon his bed's foot, first sighed and then
groaned, and thought so constantly on her that, as he sat there
broad awake, his spirit dreamed he saw her in the temple, and began
newly to consider the manner of her looking, and thus he began to make
a mirror of his mind in which he saw all her form. He found it in
his heart to grant that it was a happy fortune to him to love such a
one, and if he strove to serve her he might win her grace or at
least be among her followers. And so he reflected that neither travail
nor vexation, borne for so goodly a lady, could be thrown away or
shame him, even though it were known, but he should be honoured and
exalted by all lovers more than before. Thus he reasoned at the
beginning of his love, all unaware of his woe to come; and thus he
took his purpose to follow love's trade, but at first to keep his work
privy and hide his desire from every living wight, unless he might
be advanced by letting it be known some time, remembering that love
too widely blown abroad yields bitter fruit, though the seed be sweet.
And he thought of much more,- what to speak, what to hold in, and
how to bring her to love him. So he straightway began to indite a
song, and to triumph over his sorrow, and with good hope he fully
assented to love Criseyde and not repent. I will give every word of
his song, save for the difference of our tongues, not only the
substance, as mine author Lollius does; and whoso will hear it may
find it in these next verses.

          If Love is not, ah God! what feel I so?
          And if Love is, what manner of thing is he?
          If Love be good, from whence then comes my woe?
          If he be ill, wondrous it seems to me
          That every torment and adversity
          Which comes of him I can so joyous think;
          For ever I thirst, the more from him I drink.

          And if 'tis in mine own delight I burn,
          From whence then comes my wailing and complaint?
          Rejoicing, why to tears do I return?
          I wot not, nor, unweary, why I faint.
          Oh living death, oh sweet harm strange and quaint!
          How can this harm and death so rage in me,
          Unless I do consent that it so be?

          And if I do consent, I wrongfully
          Bewail my case; thus rolled and shaken sore
          All rudderless within a boat am I
          Amid the sea and out of sight of shore,
          Betwixt two winds contrary evermore.
          Alas, what is this wondrous malady?
          For heat of cold, for cold of heat, I die.

  To the god of Love he said with devout voice, 'Lord, now thine is my
spirit, as it ought to be. I thank thee, Lord, that hast brought me to
this. Whether she be a woman or a goddess that thou makest me serve,
verily I know not, but as her man I will ever live and die. Thou
standest mightily in her eyes as in a place fit for thy power.
Wherefore, Lord, if my service or I may please thee, be gracious to
me; for my royal estate here I resign into her hand and full humbly
become her man and make her my lady.'
  The fire of love (God save me from it!) deigned not to spare his
royal blood, his might or his prowess, but held him low in
thralldom, and burned him so ever anew in sundry wise that sixty times
a day he grew pale. Day by day so grew his delight in thinking of
her that he set at naught every other care, and full often, thinking
to allay his heat, he would strive to see her goodly face. But ever
the nearer he was, the more he burned; the nearer the fire, the
hotter, as all this company knows. But far or near, by night or day,
for wisdom or folly, I promise you, his heart, which was the eye of
his mind, was ever on her, who was fairer to see than ever was Helen
or Polyxena. Not an hour of the day passed that he said not to himself
a thousand times, 'Goodly one whom I labor to serve as best I can, now
would to God, Criseyde, you would pity me before I die. Alas, dear
heart! my health and cheer and life are lost unless you pity me.'
  All other fears were fled from him, both of the siege and for his
own safety, and no other desires bred in him but tender yearnings to
that one object, that she should have compassion on him and he might
be her man for life; lo, herein stood his life! The fell deeds of arms
of Hector or his other brethren moved him not at all, and yet wherever
men went he was found among the best and remained the longest where
peril was, and did such feats of arms that it was a marvel to think
of, till as he thus won renown in arms all the Greeks dreaded him like
death. Yet all this was not for hatred to the Greeks, nor yet for
the defence of the town, but only that his fame might please her the
better. From this time love bereft him of his sleep and made his
meat his foe, and his pains so increased that, if one noted him
well, they showed in his face. Lest men should divine that the fire of
love was burning him, he feigned other sickness and said he had a
fever and it went hard with him. How it was I cannot say, whether
his lady understood not all this, or feigned she did not, one of the
two; but at all events I find in the book that she seemed to reck
not of him nor of his pain or what was in his mind. This Troilus
felt such woe that he was wellnigh mad, for his dread was ever this,
that she so loved some other man that she would never take heed of
him, for which he seemed to feel his heart bleed. Nor durst he tell
a word of his woe, even to win all the world. When he felt a little
lightening of his grief, full often he would lament thus with himself,
'O fool! now you are in the snare, who used to mock at love's
tortures. Now you are caught; you may gnaw your own chains. You were
wont to reproach lovers for a thing from which you cannot defend
yourself. If this be known, what will every lover say of you except
ever to laugh you to scorn behind your back, and say, "There he
goes, that sapient sir that held us lovers in such low esteem! Now,
God be thanked, he goes in the dance of those whom Love will promote
but little." But ah, woful Troilus! since you are ordained to love,
would God that you had lighted on one who might know all your woe,
though she had no pity; but your lady is as cold in love toward you as
frost beneath a winter moon, and you melt away like snow in fire.
Would God I were already arrived in the port of death, to which my
sorrow will bring me; Lord, it were a comfort to me! Then I should
be quit of languishing in fear. For if my hidden sorrow should be
blown abroad, I shall be mocked a thousand-fold more than any fool
on whose folly men make rhymes. But now God help me, and you too,
sweet, by whom Love has caught me,- yes, never man so fast. Mercy,
dear heart! save me from death, for more than my life I will love
you to the end. Cheer me with some friendly look, though you may never
promise aught else.'
  These words he spoke and full many another, and ever in his
complaint called on her name, till he nigh drowned in salt tears;
but all was for naught, she heard not his lament, and when he
thought on the folly of such doings, his woe multiplied a
thousand-fold.
  Once, whilst he was thus bewailing himself alone in his chamber, a
friend of his that was named Pandarus came in unawares, and heard
him sigh and saw his distress. 'Alas!' quoth he, 'who is the cause
of all this to-do? Merciful God! what evil has happened? Have the
Greeks made you grow lean as soon as this? Or have you some remorse of
conscience and are fallen into devoutness and bewail your sins, and
are frighted into an access of attrition? What an honor to the
besiegers of our town, that they can pack away the jollity of our
lusty folk, and bring them to holiness!' These words he said to
anger him, that anger might drive out his sorrow for the time, and
arouse his spirit, for well he knew that to the ends of the earth
was not a man of greater hardihood nor more desirous of honor.
  'What chance,' quoth Troilus, 'has guided you to see me
languishing here, rejected by every creature? But for the love of God,
hear my request and go away, for in faith the sight of my dying will
pain you, and die I must; therefore go away, But if you fancy that I
am thus sick out of fear, mock me not, for it is not so. It is another
thing, far more than the Greeks have done, which makes me grieve and
pine to death. Be not wroth though I tell it not right now; I hide
it for the best.'
  This Pandarus, nigh melting for sorrow and pity, said full often,
'Alas! what may this be? Now, friend,' quoth he, 'if ever love or
faith has been betwixt you and me, be not so cruel as to hide so great
a care from your friend. Know you not that it is I, Pandarus? If I can
do you no comfort, at least I can share your pain with you, as it is a
friend's right to do with pain and pleasure. I have loved you all my
life through wrong and right, and ever shall through true or false
report. Then hide not your woe from me, but tell it straightway.'
  Then began this sorrowful Troilus to sigh, and 'God grant it be
best,' he said, 'to tell it you; for since you wish it so, tell it I
will, though my heart burst. Well I wot you can give me no ease, but
lest you deem that I trust you not, hearken, friend, for thus it
stands. Love, against which stoutest defence least avails, so sore
assails me with despair that my heart is driving straight upon the
rocks. Desire assails me so burningly that I would rather be slain
than be king of Greece and Troy together. Let this that I have said
suffice, my faithful friend Pandarus, for now you know my woe, which I
have told to no other. For the love of God, hide well my cold care,
for many a harm might follow if it were known. Do you live in
gladness, and leave me to die in my distress, unregarded.'
  'Why have you thus unkindly hidden this from me so long, fool that
you are?' quoth Pandarus. 'Peradventure your longing may be for such a
one that my judgment may help us.'
  'That,' quoth Troilus, 'were a wondrous thing; you that could
never guide yourself well in love, how, a Devil! can you bring me to
bliss?'
  'Yea, Troilus, now hearken,' quoth Pandarus; 'though I be foolish
yet it often happens that one who through excess has come to grief
by good counsel may keep his friend therefrom. I have seen a blind man
walk safe, where he fell who could look afar. A fool can often guide a
wise man. A whetstone is no carving-instrument, yet it sharpens
them. Eschew that wherein I have gone astray, and learn wisdom in my
school, for so will your wit be well employed. All things are
understood through their contraries. For how could the sweet ever have
been known by him who had never tasted the bitter? No man may be truly
glad, I trow, that was never in distress. White set by black and shame
by honor, each shows forth more, as all men know. Then since so much
may be learned from contraries, I, that have so often fared grievously
in love, ought to know how to counsel you in your dismay. Nor should
you be ill-pleased though I desire to bear with you your heavy
load,- it will hurt the less. Well I know that it fares with me as a
shepherdess named Oenone wrote to your brother Paris in a lament;
you saw the letter she wrote, no doubt?'
  'Nay, never yet,' quoth Troilus.
  'Now hearken,' said Pandarus, 'it was thus. "Phoebus, that first
invented the art of medicine, knew remedies of herbs for every man's
hurt; yet for himself his cunning was all barren, for love toward
the daughter of King Admetus had so bound him in a snare that all
his craft could not remedy his sorrow." So fare I, alack for me! I
love one best, and win nothing but dole. Yet perchance I can counsel
you, though not myself; twit me no more. I have no cause to soar and
sport like a hawk, yet I can tell somewhat for your help. And of one
thing you may be right certain, that I shall never betray you,
though I die upon the rack; nor, by my troth, care I to dissuade you
from your love, though I knew it were for your brother's wife Helen.
Be she what she may, love her still. Therefore trust me fully as
your friend, and tell me plainly your affair and final cause of woe.
Fear not at all that my intent now is to reprove you, for no wight may
forbid a man to love till he list to leave it. Know well that each
is an error, to mistrust all and to confide in all, but to take the
mean is wisdom; for to trust some one will test and prove his
fidelity, and therefore I would fain correct your wrong conceit, and
make you trust some wight and tell him your woe. Therefore tell me, if
you will. The wise man says, "Woe to him that is alone, for if he fall
he has none to help him rise." Since you have a friend, tell him
all. For the most hopeful way to win love, in verity, as wise men will
tell you, is not to wallow and weep like Queen Niobe, whose tears
can yet be seen in marble. Leave your dreary weeping and let us
lighten your woe with other talk, that your woeful hours may seem
shorter. Delight not to search woe for more woe, like these fools in
ill luck who add to their sorrows by other sorrow and care not to seek
for cure. Men say misery loves company; that we ought to grant, for
both you and I complain of love. So full of sorrow am I that no more
ill luck can perch on me, because there is no room for it. God grant
you be not afraid of me, lest I beguile you of your lady! You wot well
whom I love as best I can, long time past. And since you know I
speak from no wiliness, and since I am he whom you most trust, tell me
somewhat. You know all my woe.'
  Yet for all this Troilus spoke not a word, but for long lay still as
if he were dead; then he started up with a sigh and lent his ear to
Pandarus' voice, and rolled up his eyes till Pandarus feared lest he
should fall into madness or die on the spot.
  'Awake,' cried Pandarus sharply; 'what! are you slumbering in a
lethargy, or are you like an ass at the sound of a lute, that hears
when men ply the strings but no melody can sink into his mind to
gladden him, because he is so dull in his beastly nature?'
  With that Pandarus ceased his talk, but Troilus as yet answered
not a word, for it was not his intent to tell any man for whose love
he fared so ill. For it is said, 'a man often makes the rod with which
he is beaten,' as these wise men discourse, especially in telling
one's counsel in affairs of love that ought to be secret. Of itself it
will come out soon enough unless it be warily guarded, and sometimes
it is a good craft to seem to flee that which in truth a man eagerly
hunts. All this Troilus turned over in his heart. But nevertheless,
when he heard him cry 'Awake!', he began to sigh sore, and said,
'Friend, though I lie still I am not deaf. Now peace, and no more
shouting! I have heard your words and your lore, but suffer me to
bewail my ill hap, for your proverbs cannot help me, nor know you
any other cure for me; and I wish not to be cured, I wish to die. What
know I of the queen Niobe? Let be your old ensamples, I beg.'
  'Yea,' quoth Pandarus, 'therefore I say fools delight to bewail
their woe and care not to seek remedy. Now I know that your reason
fails you. But tell me, if I knew who she were for whom you have all
this misadventure, durst you that I told her your woe in her ear,
since you dare not yourself, and besought her to have some pity on
you?'
  'Why, no,' quoth he, 'by my troth!'
  'What!' quoth Pandarus, 'not though I did it as earnestly as
though I thought mine own life lay at stake?'
  'No, brother, certes,' said Troilus.
  'And why?'
  'Because you should never speed.'
  'Know you that well?'
  'Yea, that is beyond a doubt,' said Troilus; 'for all that ever
you can do she will not be won for such a wretch as I.'
  'Alas, how can this be,' quoth Pandarus, 'that you are thus
causeless in despair? What, is not your lady still alive?
«Benedicite!» How know you that you can have no grace? Such trouble is
not always beyond hope! Why, make not your cure thus impossible, for
things to come are often uncertain! I grant that you endure as sharp a
woe as Tityus in hell, whose stomach the fowls called vultures
evermore tear, as we read in books. But I cannot endure that you
remain in so unreasonable a thought as that there is no cure for
your woe. With your coward heart and ire and foolish wilfulness,
your despair will not even suffer you to tell of your smart, or so
much as help yourself by giving a reason, but you lie as one
indifferent to all the world. What woman could love such a wretch?
If you die thus and she know not why it is, what can she deem but that
you have given up the ghost through fear because the Greeks besiege
us? Lord, much thanks you will win in this way! "The wretch is
dead," she will say, and all the town to boot, "the Devil have his
bones!" You may weep here alone and cry and kneel twenty winters. Give
a woman love that she knows not of, and she will give you a reward
that you shall not feel. Unknown is unkissed, unsought is lost.
What! many a man has paid full dearly for love that his lady has known
of, yea, for twenty winters, and never yet has he kissed his lady's
mouth. What! should he fall into despair for this, or be a recreant,
or slay himself, be she never so fair? Nay, nay! ever alike he shall
be fresh and gay for the service of his dear heart's queen, and
think that only to serve her is a guerdon a thousand-fold more than he
merits.'
  And of that word Troilus took heed, and anon thought of his folly
and how Pandarus spoke sooth, that in slaying himself he could gain
naught, but only do an unmanly act and a sin, if his lady knew
naught of the cause; for full little of his woe she knew, God wot!
With that thought he sighed and said, 'Alas! what is best for me to
do?'
  To which Pandarus answered, 'So please you, the best is that you
tell me all your troubles; and by my troth, unless you find that I can
medicine you before many days, you may have me torn in pieces and
afterwards hanged!'
  'Yes, so you may say,' quoth Troilus, 'but alas! that makes it not
true, God wot. It is full hard to help a man when Fortune is his
foe. All the men that live and breathe cannot withstand the harm
wrought by her cruel wheel, for as she list she plays with bond and
free.'
  Quoth Pandarus, 'You are wroth, and so blame Fortune; now I begin to
understand. Know you not that every manner of wight is subjected to
Fortune in some degree? And yet you have this comfort, that as her
joys must pass, so must her sorrows; for if her wheel ceased one
moment to turn, anon she should cease to be Fortune. Now how know you,
since her wheel may not tarry, that her mutability will not do by
you as you desire, or she may not be about to help you? Perchance
you have cause for singing! Know you, then, what I counsel you? Let be
your woe and downcast looks, for he who will have healing must first
reveal his wound unto his leech. Though your grief were for my own
sister, may I be tied forever to Cerberus in hell but she should be
yours to-morrow if she were mine to give. Look up, I say, and tell
me anon who she is, that I may go about your business. If I know her
at all, I shall hope to speed the sooner. As you love me, tell me if I
do.'
  Now began Troilus' vein to bleed, for he was hit. 'Aha! here
begins some sport,' said Pandarus, when he saw him wax all red for
shame; and with that word he began to shake him. 'Thief, you shall
tell her name.'
  Troilus began to tremble as though men were leading him to hell.
'Alas!' said he, 'my sweet foe, the wellspring of my grief, is named
Criseyde!' And with that word he wellnigh gave up the ghost for dread.
  When Pandarus heard her name, Lord! he was glad. 'Dear friend,' said
he, 'this goes well! In Jove's name, Love has placed you well. Be of
good cheer! For good name, discretion and fair demeanor, she has
enough of them, and of gentle blood. If she be fair, you know
yourself, I dare say! A more bounteous I never saw for one of her
station, nor a gladder, nor of speech friendlier, nor one who had more
of Heaven's grace for doing well, or had less need to seek what to do;
and as for honor, to crown it all, as far as her might may go, a
king's heart seems by hers a wretch's. And therefore look you be of
good comfort, for certainly in a noble and well-regulated temper the
first point is this,- that a man should have peace with himself. In
truth you ought to have, for there is nothing but good in loving
well a worthy object. You ought not to call it chance, but the grace
of God. And also gladden yourself by thinking that since your lady has
all virtues, she must have some pity amongst them; but see also that
you seek nothing which is against her fair repute, for virtue
stretches not itself as far as to shame.
  'But right glad I am that I have lived to see your love bestowed
so well, for by my troth I durst have sworn that never so fair a grace
in love would have betided you. You were wont to check at Love in
scorn and call him "Saint Idiot, lord of all fools." How often have
you prated and said that Love's servants, for folly, were verily God's
apes, and some would take to their solitary beds, and munch their meat
groaning, and another had the green-sickness, and you would pray God
that he might die of it! And some of them, for the cold in bed,
would put over them more than they needed, so you would often say; and
some would often feign and tell how they had watched when in truth
they had slept full sweetly. Thus they strove to rise, yet were
underneath at last; so you would say in your japing; and that for
the more part these lovers will be ever speaking, and that a sure
safeguard against failing is to try everywhere. Now I can jape on
you as much as I will; but I will go to the stake on it that you
were none of these last ones! Now beat your breast and say to your
god, "Grant me thy grace, Lord, for now I am in love, and repent me if
I ever spoke ill." Thus you must say with all your heart.'
  'Ah, Lord!' quoth Troilus, 'I consent, and pray that thou forgive my
gibes, and I will do so no more whilst I live.'
  'Well said,' quoth Pandarus, 'and now I hope you have appeased the
god's wrath; and since you have wept many a drop and spoken to your
god's pleasure, would to God you might be relieved! Trust well that
she from whom all your woe arises may hereafter be your comfort
also. The same ground that bears ill weeds bears also these
wholesome herbs, and next the foul nettle, rough and thick, waxes,
sweet and smooth and soft, the rose; next the valley is the hill on
high, next the dark night the glad morrow, next the end of grief is
joy. Hold your bridle even loose enough and let things go their
natural course, or all our labor is thrown away.

              "He hasteth well that wisely can abide."

  Be diligent, faithful and privy, be merry, liberal and persevering
in your service, and all will be well. But he that is distributed into
every place, as wise clerks write, is whole nowhere. What wonder if
such a one speed not? Some love fares as if one should plant a tree or
herb and pull it up straightway on the morrow. No wonder that it never
thrives. Since the god of love has bestowed you in a place equal to
your own worth, stand fast; you have sailed into a good port. Have
ever good hope, in spite of the heaviness of your spirits; for, unless
over-haste or your low spirit spoil our work, I hope to make a good
end of this. Know you why? I am the less afraid to treat of this
matter with my niece because I have heard from old clerks that there
was never man or woman begotten yet that was not ready to suffer
love's heat, either celestial or natural. Therefore I hope to find
grace for you. As to her, with her beauty and youth, it fits her not
yet, though she could and would, to be celestial; but right well it
fits her to love and cherish a worthy knight. If she do it not, I hold
it for a fault. Therefore I am now and ever ready to strive to do
you this service; hereafter I hope to have the thanks of both of you
for it, for you both are prudent and can so keep counsel that no man
shall be the wiser, and so we all three may be gladdened. By my troth,
now I have formed a good conceit of you in my wit! Since Love, of
his goodness, has converted you from your sin, you shall be the best
pillar of all his faith, I trow, and most harass his foes. See as an
ensample now these great clerks that err most deadly against the
faith, and are converted from their wicked deeds, through the grace of
God that draws them to Him,- then are they the most God-fearing of
folk, and strongest in faith, and can better than others withstand
error.'
  When Troilus had heard Pandarus consent to help him in winning
Criseyde's love, his woe left tormenting him, and hotter waxed his
love; and then he said, with sober face though his heart danced,
'Now may blessed Venus so help that before I die I may deserve some
thanks of you, Pandarus! But, dear friend, how shall my woe be less
till this is finished? And tell me this, what will you say of me and
my pain? Most of all I dread lest she be wroth or will not hear or
believe it.'
  'You have a full great care,' quoth Pandarus, 'lest the churl should
fall out of the moon! Lord, but I hate your foolish going-on! Why,
attend to your own part of it! For God's love, I bid you one boon, and
that is to let me alone; you will fare the better!'
  'Why, friend,' quoth Troilus, 'now do as you will! But hark to one
word, Pandarus; I would not that you should suspect in me any such
wantonness as that I would desire of my lady aught that tends to
evil or baseness. For, believe me, I would rather die than she
should fancy of me aught but what might tend to virtue.'
  Then laughed this Pandarus, and answered anon, 'And I your surety?
Fie, every lover speaks thus! Would that she had been standing by
and had heard how you spoke! But farewell; I will go. Adieu, and be
glad. God speed us both! Give me this anxious task, and of my
success be the sweet fruit yours.'
  Then Troilus fell on his knees and caught Pandarus tightly in his
arms. 'Now fie on all the Greeks!' he said. 'Soon or late, God will
help us, and, if my life hold out, before God some of them shall
smart. And yet I am right sorry that this vaunt has escaped me. Now,
Pandarus, I can say no more; but you are wise,- you know, you have the
power, you are my all. All my life and death I lay in your hand!
Help me now!'
  'Yes, by my troth,' quoth Pandarus.
  'God reward you, friend! And this especially,' said Troilus; 'keep
me in her mind who may command me to the death.'
  This Pandarus, all zealous to aid his dear friend, said,
'Farewell, and be assured I will deserve your thanks; and that you
shall see, and here I pledge my troth.' And so he went his way,
thinking how he might best beseech her for grace, and how he might
find a time therefor. For a wight that has a house to build runs not
to begin the work with hasty hand, but will bide a while, and send out
his heart's line to measure how to begin upon his plan. All this
thought Pandarus in his heart, and laid out his work full prudently
ere he began it.
  But as for Troilus, no longer he lay flat; anon up on his bay
steed to play the lion in the field, till woe was the Greek who met
him that day! And in the town thenceforth so goodly was his manner,
and got him so much favor, that every one loved him that looked on his
face. For he became the friendliest wight, the gentlest and eke the
most generous, the most prudent, and in a word one of the best knights
that lived. Dead was his cruel mocking, his high port and haughty
manner, and each fault he exchanged for a virtue. And so let us
leave Troilus for a season, who fares like a man sore hurt, who is
somewhat relieved of the aching of his wound, but is healed none the
more for that and abides the instruction of him who goes about his
cure. So thus he awaits what may betide.

                        «Explicit Liber Primus.»


{BK2
                               Book II

                   «Incipit prohemium Secundi Libri.»


  O wind, O wind, the weather begins to clear, and carry our sail
out of these black waves. For in this sea my boat labors so that my
cunning scarce can guide it. This sea I call the tempestuous despair
that Troilus had been in, but now begin the Calends of hope. O lady
mine Clio, be my Muse and my speed henceforth to rhyme well this
book till I have done it! I need here none other art but thine. And so
I excuse me to every lover; for I indite this out of no strained
sentiment of mine own, but turn it out of Latin into mine own
tongue. And so for all this work I desire neither thanks nor
censure, but I pray you meekly to hold me free if any word be lame,
for as my author said, even so say I. And though I speak of love
without due feeling, it is no wonder, for it is nothing new that a
blind man cannot judge well in colors. You know too that in a thousand
years there is a change in the forms of speech, and words which then
were words of price seem to us now wondrous trivial and strange; yet
they spake them so, and they sped as well in love then as men do
now. And in sundry ages and lands sundry are the usages to win love.
And therefore if it happen that any lover in this place hear how the
story describes Troilus' coming into his lady's favor, and thinks,
'not so would I procure love,' or wonders at his speech or his
doings,- I know not how it may be, but to me it is no wonder. Every
wight who goes to Rome holds not one and the same road. In some
lands all the sport were spoiled if men in love did even as men do
here, as, for instance, in frank conduct or looks, in visiting, in the
forms they follow, or in saying their say. Therefore men say each
country has its own usages. And even in this place there are scarce
three who have said and done quite alike in love; this way may
please that man, and that may please this. Yet there is naught that
may not have been said by one or another, even as one graver may
choose to grave in wood, and one on a stone wall, as it may betide.
But since I have begun, I will go on and follow mine author as well as
I can.

                  «Explicit prohemium Secundi Libri.»

                       «Incipit Liber Secundus.»

  In May, the mother of glad months, when fresh flowers that winter
killed are quickened again, blue, red and white, and balmy breaths
float over every mead, when Phoebus from the white Bull lavishes his
bright beams,- it so betided, as I shall sing, on the third day of
May, that Pandarus too, for all his wise speech, felt his share of
love's keen shots, which made his hue full pale, preached he never
so well on love. That day a reverse in love befell him, for which he
went to bed in woe and tossed and turned full oft ere day. When
morning came the swallow Progne began to make her lament with a
sorrowful lay, how she was metamorphosed; and ever lay Pandarus
a-bed half in a slumber till she made her chattering so nigh him,
how Tereus carried her sister away, that with the noise he awoke,
and called out and prepared to rise. He remembered his errand and
his undertaking for Troilus; he knew that the moon was in a propitious
place for his emprise, and he made his plan and took his way anon to
his niece's palace hard by. Janus, god of entrance, guide him!
  When he was come thither, 'Where is my lady?' said he to her folk.
They told him, and in he went and found her sitting with two other
ladies in a paved parlor; they three were hearing a maiden read them
the romance of the siege of Thebes.
  'Madame, God save you,' quoth Pandarus, 'with your book and all
the company!'
  'Eh, uncle! welcome now heartily,' said she, and up she rose and
took him quickly by the hand, and said, 'Last night I dreamed thrice
of you- may it turn to good!,' and with that word she set him down
on a bench.
  'Yea, niece, you shall fare the better for it all this year,
please God,' said Pandarus. 'But I am sorry I have stayed your
listening to the book that you honor thus. For God's love, what says
it? Tell us now, is it of love? Let me learn some good from you.'
  'Uncle,' said she, 'your mistress is not here,' whereat they all
began to laugh; and then she said, 'This romance that we read is of
Thebes; and we have heard how King Laius died through Oedipus his son,
and all those deeds; and here we stopped at these red letters, where
the book tells how the bishop Amphiaraus fell through the ground to
hell.'
  'I know about all that,' quoth Pandarus, 'and all the siege of
Thebes and all the woe, for thereof is a poem written in twelve books.
But let be all this, and tell me how you do. Put off your wimple and
show your face bare; put away your book and rise up, and let us
dance and do some honor to May.'
  'Eh, God forbid!' said she; 'are you mad? Is that a life for a
widow? You make me fearful for you, you talk so wildly that you must
be raving! It would fit me better to pray ever in a cave and read holy
saints' lives. Let maids dance, and young married folk!'
  'And yet,' said Pandarus, 'I could tell you a thing to make you
dance.'
  'Now, uncle dear, tell it for God's love; is the siege over? I am so
afeared of the Greeks that I die of it.'
  'Nay, nay,' said he, 'it is something better than five such.'
  'Yea? Holy God!' said she, 'what thing is it then? What, better than
five such? Eh, no, surely! For all this world I cannot fancy what it
should be. Some mock, I trow! Unless you tell me yourself my wit is
all too thin to guess it. God help me so, I wot not what you speak
of.'
  'But I pledge you my word, never shall this thing be told you, for
all me.'
  'And why so, uncle mine? Why so?'
  'By God,' quoth he, 'that will I tell you anon. It is because, if
you knew it, there would be no prouder woman alive in all the town
of Troy,- as I hope to be saved, I jest not.'
  Then she began to wonder a thousand-fold more than ever, and cast
down her eyes, for never since she was born desired she so much to
know a thing. But at last with a sigh she said, 'Now, uncle mine, I
will not displease you, nor vex you with asking;' so with many
lively words and friendly tales and merry cheer they talked of this
and that, and went far into many a rare matter, merry or deep, as
friends do when they have met; till she came to ask him how Hector
fared, the bulwark of the town and scourge of the Greeks.
  'Full well, I thank God,' answered Pandarus, 'save that he has a
little wound in his arm; and so does his lusty brother Troilus. He
is a wise and worthy second Hector, full of all virtues, fidelity
and nobility, prudence, honor, generosity and valor.'
  'In good faith, uncle,' said she, 'I am glad to hear that they
fare well. God save them both! Truly it is a great joy to see a king's
son doing well in arms, and of good traits besides. For great power
and moral virtue are seldom seen in one person on this earth.'
  'In good faith, that is sooth,' answered Pandarus. 'But by my
troth the king has two sons, Hector and Troilus, who are as void of
vices as any men under the sun. Their mightiness is full widely known.
It needs tell naught of Hector; in all this world is no better
knight than he who is well of all worthiness. And he has yet more
virtue than strength, and that many a wise and worthy wight knows. And
the same praise can I give Troilus. So may God help me, I know not
such another pair!'
  'By God, that is true of Hector,' quoth she, 'and of Troilus I can
well believe the same; for men tell that he does so valiantly in
arms day by day, and bears himself so gently here at home to every
wight, that he has all praise of those by whom it were liefest to me
to be praised.'
  'You say right sooth,' said Pandarus, 'for whoso had been with him
yesterday might have wondered at Troilus. For never yet flew so
thick a swarm of bees as the Greeks that fled from him. Throughout the
field in every man's ear was no cry but "There is Troilus!" Here,
there, he hunted them so hard there was naught but Greek blood and
Troilus! This one he hurt, that one he overthrew, and so it was
wherever he went. He was their death and our shield and life. That
day, so long as he grasped his bloody sword, none durst withstand him.
And add to all this, he is the friendliest man of great station that
ever I saw in my life, to such as he thinks likely to deserve
honor.' And with that word Pandarus took his leave,- 'I will go
hence.'
  'Nay, then, I must be to blame,' said she then; 'what ails you to be
so soon weary, and especially of us women? What will you? Nay, sit you
down! By God, I have something more to say to you, to ask your counsel
ere you go.' Then every wight about who heard that began to withdraw a
little, whilst they two said their say. And when their talk was ended,
of her plight and her conduct, Pandarus said, 'Now it is time I
went. But yet, I say, arise and let us dance, and cast your widow's
habit to the Devil! Why will you thus disfigure yourself, since so
glad a chance has betided you?'
  'Ah, well thought of!' quoth she. 'For the love of God, am I not
to know what you mean concerning this?'
  'No, this thing needs leisure,' said he, 'and eke it would grieve me
much if I told it and you took it amiss. It were better for me to hold
my tongue than say a sooth that should be against your liking. For
by the goddess Minerva, niece, and Jupiter, who makes the thunder
ring, and the blessed Venus whom I serve, you are the woman living
in this world whom, I believe verily, aside from passion, I best
love and am loathest to grieve; and that you know yourself, I think.'
  'Gramercy in truth, mine uncle,' said she, 'I have ever felt your
friendship. To no man am I so bound as to you, and have repaid so
little. By the grace of God, to the extent of my wit, I shall never
knowingly offend you; and if I ever have, I will reform! But I beseech
you, for the love of God, as you are he whom I most trust and love,
let be your distant manner of speech, and say to me your niece what
you have in mind.'
  And with that word anon her uncle kissed her and said, 'Gladly,
sweet dear niece; and do you take well what I shall say to you
here.' With that she began to cast down her eyes, and Pandarus to
cough a little, and he said, 'You know, niece, that after all, however
some men may please to endite their tales with subtle art, the tales
are meant for some clear end. And since the force of every tale is
in its end, and since this matter is so advantageous, why should I
color it highly or draw it out at length to so faithful a friend as
you?' And with that word he began right intently to gaze on her face
and said, 'Now fair fortune on such a mirror!'
  Then he thought, 'If I frame my tale in hard terms, or make a long
story, she will find but little savor in it, and will believe I mean
to beguile her. Tender wits fancy all things to be wily which they
cannot plainly understand. So I will strive to suit my tale to her
wit.'
  She saw that he gazed upon her earnestly, and said, 'Lord! how
hard you stare! Saw you me never before this? What say you! No?'
  'Yes, yes,' quoth he, 'and shall better yet before I leave! But by
my troth, I was only thinking whether fortune loves you, for now men
shall see it. For to every wight some goodly adventure is ordained
at some time, if he can receive it; but if he will pay no heed to it
when it comes, but wilfully slights it, why, it is neither chance
nor fortune that deceives him, but only his own sloth and
wretchedness. Such a wight is to blame, by my soul! You, fair niece,
have full lightly found such a good adventure, if you are able to
receive it. For the love of God, and of me, catch at it straightway,
lest opportunity pass! Why should I make a longer tale of it? Give
me your hand; for, if you but will, there is not in this world a wight
so favored. Since I am speaking with good intent, as I have told you
already, and love your honor and fair name as well as any creature
born in this world,- by all the oaths that I have sworn to you, if you
are wroth at this, or fancy I lie, I will never see you again. Be
not aghast and tremble not! Why should you? Change not color so for
fear, for in truth the worst is over! And though my tale now seem
strange, have good trust that you shall always find me faithful.
Were it a thing I thought unfitting, I should bring you no such
tidings.'
  'Now, my good uncle, for God's love I pray you,' quoth she, 'make
haste and tell me what it is, for I am both aghast to know what you
will say, and beside myself with longing. Whether it be well or be
amiss, say on! Let me not stay forever in this fear!'
  'So I will; now hearken and I shall tell. Now, my niece, the
king's dear son, the good, the prudent, the valiant, the lusty, the
generous, that mirror of well-doing, the noble Troilus, so loves you
that unless you help him it will be his death. Lo, this is all! What
more can I say? Do what you will, let him live or die; but if you
let him die, I will die too; here is my pledge that I lie not,
though I should have to cut my throat with this knife!' With that
the tears burst from his eyes, and he said, 'If you will make us
both die thus guiltless, a fair fishing you have made! How mend you
your own fortune if we both miscarry? Alas! that loyal man, my own
dear lord, that noble gentle knight, who asks for nothing but a
friendly look from you, I see him slowly dying as he walks about,
and making all speed to be slain, if fortune will but grant it.
Alas, that God sent you such beauty! If you are in truth so cruel that
you reck no more of the death of so true and worthy a man than of
the death of a wretch or a mocker, if you are such, your beauty cannot
make amends for so cruel a deed. It were well to consider ere the
pinch comes. Woe worth the fair gem without virtue, and the herb
that can cure nothing! Woe worth ruthless beauty, and the wight that
treads all others down; and you that are top and root of beauty, if
there be no ruth in you as well, by my troth you were better dead.
  'But, believe me, this is no crafty lure. I had liefer that you
and I and he were hanged so high that all men might look on us, than
that I should be his bawd. I am your uncle; the shame were to me as
well as to you should I abet or assent to his hurting your honor.
Now understand. I ask not that you should bind yourself to him by
any promise, but only that you receive him with more joyous
entertainment than before, so that at least his life be saved. This is
all, and all we hoped for. So may God help me, I never meant aught
else. Neither is this request more than reason, nor is there
reasonable fear from it. Suppose the worst; you are afraid folk may
wonder to see him come and go. Thereto I answer that any wight but a
natural fool will deem it but a friendly affection on his part.
What! who will deem, when he sees a man go to a temple, that he eats
the images! Think also how well and wisely Troilus conducts himself,
never incautiously, so that everywhere he wins praise and gratitude.
And besides, he will come here so seldom, what matter were it though
all the town saw? Such friendly affection is common enough
throughout this town, so evermore veil yourselves in that mantle; so
be God my salvation, you were best do that. But, good niece, in any
case to stint his woe, sugar your sour reserve a little, that you be
not to blame for his death.'
  Criseyde, who had heard all to the full, thought, 'Now I will test
what he really means.- Now, uncle,' she said, 'what think you truly
I should do in this case?'
  'Well said,' quoth he; 'in sooth the best is that you love him in
return for his love, as love for love is a reasonable reward. Think
how in each of you every day age lays waste a part of your beauty, and
therefore, before age clean devour you, go love. Old, no wight will
have you. Learn lore from this proverb: "Too late aware, says Beauty
when she is gone." Old age in the end subdues pride. When the king's
fool thinks a woman bears herself too high, he is wont to call at her,
"So long may you and all proud dames live until crows' feet be grown
under your eyes, and may you then have a mirror to pore over
a-mornings!" I can wish you no more grief!'
  With that he ceased, and bent his head down. She began to burst
out weeping, and said, 'Woe, alas! Why am I alive? All the faith is
gone out of this world. Alas! what will strangers do to me when he
that I thought my best friend counsels me to love, who should warn
me against it? Alas! I should have trusted faithfully that, if through
my ill stars I had loved him or Achilles, Hector or any male creature,
you would have had no mercy or moderation toward me, but would have
held me in eternal reproach. Who may trust this false world? What,
is this all the joy that I was to celebrate? Is this your counsel, and
my blissful chance, and the prize that you promised me? Was all your
colored story told only for this end? O Lady Pallas, guide me in
this dreadful case, for I am so astonied that I die!' And with that
she began to sigh full sorrowfully.
  'Ah, is there hope of nothing better?' quoth Pandarus. 'Before
God, I shall come here no more this week, that am mistrusted thus. I
see well that you care full little for him or me or for our death.
Alas, what a woful wretch am I! Might he but live, no one would reck
of my life. O cruel god, pitiless Mars, and ye three furies of hell, I
call on you; let me never come out of this house if ever I meant shame
or harm. But since I see my lord must needs die, and I with him,
here I shrive me and say that it is your grievous sin to cause us both
to die. But since it pleases you that I should die, by Neptune, god of
the sea, from this day forth I will eat no bread till I see mine own
heart's blood, for in verity I will die as soon as he!'
  Up he started and dashed away, till Criseyde caught him by the
kirtle. She was the fearfullest wight that ever was, and wellnigh died
for fear when she heard him and saw his sorrowful earnest; and
seeing naught amiss in his prayer, and the greater harm that might
befall, she began to melt and sorely to fear, and thought, 'Unhappy
chances betide every day for love, and in such cases men are cruel and
wicked against themselves. If this man slay himself here in my
presence, it will be no merriment! What men would think about it I
cannot fancy;- I must play full cautiously.' So she cried thrice
with a sorrowful sigh, 'Ah, Lord! what a sorry chance has befallen me!
For my well-being lies in jeopardy, and mine uncle's life is in the
balance. But with God's help I shall so act as to save mine honor
and his life. Of two harms the less is to be chosen. I had rather
receive your friend kindly, in all honor, than lose mine uncle's life!
You say you require naught else of me?' And with that she ceased to
weep.
  'No, in truth, mine own dear niece,' he said.
  'Well,' said she; 'then I will try. I will constrain my heart
against my liking, save that I will not delude him with false hopes. I
know not how to love a man, and cannot against my will, but
otherwise I will strive from day to day to please him, saving my
honor. To such a thing I would not once have said nay, except for my
fanciful dread; and now, cease cause, cease malady. But here I make an
attestation that, if you go deeper into this thing, certainly for no
saving of you, though you both die the death, and though all the world
turn against me on one day, never will I have more and other pity on
him than I have said.'
  'I agree, by my troth,' said Pandarus. 'But can I verily trust to
you that you will truly hold to me the thing which you have promised
me here?'
  'Yes, without a doubt,' said she, 'my dear uncle.'
  '-So that I shall have no cause in this matter to complain, or to
preach to you again?'
  'Why no, perdy! What need of more words?'
  Then they fell into other cheerful talk, till at the last, 'Oh, good
uncle!' said she, 'for the love of Him that made us both, tell me
how you knew first of his woe. Knows any man of it but you two?'
  'No,' he replied.
  'Can he talk well on love? Tell me, I pray, that I may the better
prepare.'
  Then Pandarus began to smile a little, and said, 'By my troth, I
will tell you. The other day, not a long while ago, he and I were full
half the day in the palace garden by a fountain, speaking of a means
how we might repulse the Greeks. Soon after that we began to leap, and
to throw the dart, till at last he said he would sleep, and laid him
down on the grass, and I began to roam to and fro at a distance,
till as I walked I heard how he began to groan full wofully, and I
stalked him full softly from behind. As I can call to memory, thus
he made his complaint to love; he said, "Lord, have ruth upon my pain.
Though I have been a rebel, «mea culpa,» I repent me. O God, that at
Thy good pleasure ordainest the end of every wight by just providence,
accept my humble confession favorably, and send me such penance as
liketh Thee, but of Thy kindness shield me from despair which may part
my soul from Thee. For certes, Lord, so sorely has she that stood
there in black wounded me with the looking of her eyes that it has
sounded my heart's bottom, through which I know that I shall die.
The worst is that I may not reveal it; and the hotter glow the coals
if men cover them with pale ashes."
  'With that he smote down his head and began to mutter I know not
what. I stole away and made as though I had known nothing, and anon
came again, stood by him and said, "Awake, you sleep all too long!
It seems not that you pine for love, since you sleep so that none
can wake you! Who ever saw so dull a fellow before?" "Yes, friend,"
said he, "let your head ache for love, and let me live as I may." Pale
and wan for love as he was, he put on as fresh a look as if he
should have led a new dance.
  'This went on till it fell, only this other day, that I came
strolling all alone into his chamber and found him lying upon his bed.
Never heard I man groan so sore. What it was that he moaned out I know
not, for as I was coming suddenly he left his complaint, at which I
caught a suspicion and came nearer and found that he was weeping sore.
So God save me as I never felt more ruth for anything! Scarcely by
cunning or by counsel could I restrain him from his death, so that
even now I feel my heart weep for him. God wot, never since I was born
was I so busy with preaching, and never swore such deep vows before he
told me who might be his physician! Unless you would see me swoon, ask
me not to rehearse all his words; only to save his life, and for no
harm to you, am I brought to say thus much. For the love of the God
that made us, make him such cheer that he and I may save our lives.
Now have I fully shriven my heart to you. You know that my intent is
pure; take heed of it. And now I pray God bless you that without net
have caught such game! If you are wise as you are fair, well is the
ruby set in the ring. Never were two so well brought together as
you, and God grant us to see that hour when you are all wholly his
as he is yours!'
  'Aha!' quoth she; 'nay, I spoke nothing of that! God help me so, you
spoil all.'
  'Eh, mercy, dear niece!' he answered hastily. 'Whatsoever I spoke, I
swear by steel-helmed Mars I meant no ill. Now be not wroth, my dear
niece, mine own blood.'
  'Well, well!' said she, 'you are forgiven.'
  With that he took his leave and went home,- Lord, how happy and
content! Criseyde tarried not, but arose and went straight into her
closet, where she sat her down as still as a stone, and turned over in
her mind every word that he had said as it came back to her, and was
somewhat astonied for the very newness of it all. But when she had
fully considered, she found naught perilous, why she ought to fear;
for it is possible that a man may love a woman till his heart
splits, and she not love in return unless she will.
  Thus as she sat alone and thought, a clamor arose about a skirmish
without the walls, and men cried in the street, 'See, Troilus has
right now put the Greek troop to flight!' At that all her household
began to shout, 'Ah, let us go and see! Cast up the lattice! He will
ride through this street to the palace, there is no other way from the
Gate of Dardanus, where the chain is open!'
  Then came he and all his men, riding at an easy pace in two
troops, even as his happy day would have it, which (men say) betides
of necessity and may not be disturbed. Troilus, all armed full
richly save for his helm, sat on his bay steed, which was wounded
and bled, wherefore he rode at a full soft pace. But Mars, the god
of battle, were not so knightly a sight to look upon as he! So like
a man of arms and a knight he was, so full of high prowess; for he had
both the frame and the strength to do those deeds, as well as the
hardihood, and to see him in all his gear, so fresh and young and
powerful, it was heaven to look on him. His helm, hanging behind his
back by a lace, was hewn open in twenty holes; his shield was all
crushed with maces and swords, and one might see in it many an arrow
which had pierced the horn and sinew and hide of it; and ever the
people cried, 'Here comes our hero, next his brother the mainstay of
Troy!' At this, when he heard the people cry out over him, he waxed
a little red for shame, so that it was rare sport to see how soberly
he cast down his eyes.
  Criseyde all the time took in his look, and let it softly sink
into her heart, till she said, 'Who has given me a potion?' At her own
thought she waxed all red, remembering in her own mind, 'Lo, this is
he who my uncle swears is sure to die unless I have mercy and pity.'
And, abashed only with the thought, she pulled in her head, and that
quickly, whilst he and all the people passed by. She cast over in
her mind his excellent prowess, his station, his renown, his wisdom,
his form, and his nobility; but what most won her was that his
distress was all for her, and she thought it were pity to slay such
a one, if his intent were faithful.
  Now some malicious wight may prate thus, 'This was a sudden love!
How might it be that she so readily loved Troilus even at the first
sight?' Yea, verily! Whosoever says so, may he never flourish!
Everything must needs have a beginning, before it be full grown. I say
not that she so suddenly as this gave him her heart, but only that she
began to incline to like him at first, and I have told you why; and
after that his manhood and his longing for her made love to drive
its mines within her heart. Wherefore by degrees and by good service
he got her love, and not suddenly. And also blessed Venus was even
then sitting in her seventh house of heaven, well placed among the
stars and with benign aspects, to help poor Troilus out of his woe;
and to say the sooth she had been right favorable to him at his
nativity. The better he sped for that, God wot!
  Now let us for a season leave Troilus riding on, and turn
forthwith to Criseyde, that sat alone with bent head, and debated what
resolution she should take at last, if so be her uncle should not
leave to press Troilus upon her. And Lord! how she argued back and
forth in her heart, now warm and now cold, and how she folded and
unfolded what were best to eschew and what to do! Of what she
thought I shall write somewhat, as mine author sets it down.
  She thought first how well she knew Troilus' person by sight, and
also his nobleness; she thought, 'It will not do to grant him love,
yet it were an honor to me in my station, and also for his well-being,
to have to do with such a lord in honest mirth. And well I wot he is
my king's son, and peradventure, since he so joys to see me, if I
should utterly flee his company he might have me in despite, through
which I might stand in worse case than ever. Now were I wise to
procure needless hate for me, where I may stand in favor? There is
measure in all things, I wot. Though a man forbid drunkenness I trow
he will not demand that every creature be drinkless forever. Since I
know his distress is for me, I ought not to despise him for that, if
so be his intent is good. I know his virtues of long time past, and
that he is not a fool, and that men say he is no braggart and is too
wise for so mean a vice; and besides I will never make so much of
him that he shall have any cause to boast of me,- he shall never
hold me in such a bond. Now suppose the worst, that men may guess that
he loves me,- what dishonor to me is this? Can I him? All the time men
love women without their leave; when they are weary of it, let them
cease! I wot well he is worthy to have the best of women in this
world, saving her honor, for except only Hector he is out and out
the worthiest knight. And yet now his life lies in my power! Such is
love, and my good chance.
  'It is no wonder that he should love me; so God speed me, though I
would not any man knew of my thought, I am one of the fairest and
goodliest women here, and so men say throughout this town. What wonder
though he take delight in me? Thank God, I am mistress to myself, well
at ease for one in my station, right young, and at liberty in a
lusty pasture, untroubled by jealousy or such strife. No husband can
say to me "Checkmate!" (All husbands are either full of jealousy, or
masterful, or love novelty.) What shall I do? To what end live I as
I am living? Shall I not love if I will? What! I am not a nun; and
though I give my heart to this worthy knight, if I keep my honor and
my fair repute, by rights it can be no shame to me.'
  But even as in changeful March the sun shines bright, and then a
cloud is driven by the wind and overspreads the sun for a season, a
cloudy thought passed through her soul and overspread all her bright
thoughts, till she wellnigh dropped with fear. That thought was,
'Since I am free, alas! shall I now love, and jeopardize my security
and enthrall my liberty? How durst I think of such a folly! Can I
not note in other folk in love their joy full of fear, their
thralldom, their pain? No woman is in love but has cause to lament it.
Love is of itself the most stormy life that ever was, ever is some
distrust in love, or foolish strife, some cloud is over that sun.
And when we wretched loving women are in trouble, all we can do is sit
thinking and weeping; all the revenge we can have is to drink up our
own woe. And wicked tongues are so ready to speak harm of us! And
men are so faithless that, as soon as their desire is satisfied,
love ceases, and forth to a new love! Harm done is done, whosoever rue
it. Though these men at first tear themselves for love, a sharp
beginning often has a weak end. How many times it has been known,
the treachery done to women! What such love is for, I cannot see; or
what becomes of it when it is gone. No wight will break his shins
against it! That which at first was naught turns into naught again.
And then, if I give myself to love, how anxious and busy I must be
to cajole those who prate and gossip about love, and to silence
them, that they say no harm of me; for though there be no cause, yet
they fancy evil when folk but please their friends. Who can stop every
wicked tongue, or the reverberation of ringing bells?'
  And then her thoughts began to clear, and she said, 'He who
undertakes nothing, willy-nilly achieves nothing.' And then with the
next thought, her heart began to quake; hope went to sleep and dread
awoke; now she was hot, now cold. Thus betwixt the two, she rose up,
and went out to divert her.
  Down the stair she went into the garden with her three nieces, and
up and down they took many a turn in their sporting, she and
Phlexippe, Tarbe and Antigone, so that it was a joy to look on them,
and a great throng of her other women followed her in the garden all
about. The yard was large, well shaded with green boughs full of
blossoms, and with turved banks and sanded alleys railed off, in which
she walked arm in arm betwixt her nieces; till Antigone the fair began
to sing a Trojan song, that it was a heaven to hear her clear voice.
  'O Love,' she sang, 'to whom I have ever been and shall be humble
subject, true in mine intent as I best can be, to thee, Lord, for
evermore I give my heart's joy in tribute. For never yet thy grace
sent to any wight so blissful cause as I have to live her life in
all security and joy. Blessed god, thou hast so well bestowed me in
love that no living creature could imagine how it could be better;
without jealousy or strife I love one the most devoted to good service
that ever was, without weariness or feigning, nor stained with the
least spot. He is the well of worthiness, ground of fidelity, mirror
of goodliness, rock of security, Apollo in wit, root of virtue,
discoverer and head of delight, through whom all sorrow has died in
me; he loves me best, and so love I him; now blessings on him wherever
he be! Whom should I thank but thee, God of Love, for all this bliss
in which I bathe? And thanks to thee that I myself love. This life
that I am in is the perfect life, to drive away all manner of sin
and vice, and so to strive after virtue that day by day my will
betters itself. Whoso says that to love is a fault or a bondage, he is
either envious or right foolish, or so wicked that he cannot love.
Such manner of folk I trow defame Love as know naught of him; they
speak of him, but they never bent his bow. What, is the sun the
worse though a man for feebleness of his eyes cannot endure to look on
it? Or Love the worse though wretches cry out on him? He is worthy
of no weal that can endure no sorrow; and therefore let him who has
a head of glass beware of the flying stones in battle. But I with
all my heart and strength will love to the end my dear heart, mine own
knight; upon whom my heart has grown so firm, and his on me, that they
will last forever. Though I feared at first to begin to love him,
now I wot well there is no peril in it.'
  There she ceased her song, and thereat said Criseyde, 'Now, niece,
who made this song?'
  'Madame,' answered Antigone, 'the goodliest maid of great estate
in the town of Troy, that led her life in most bliss and honor.'
  'In sooth,' said Criseyde, and began to sigh, 'so it seems by her
song. Lord! is there such happiness amongst these lovers as they say
so fairly?'
  'Yea, certes,' said the white Antigone. 'All the folk that have been
or are alive cannot describe the bliss of love. But deem you that
the perfect bliss of love is known to every wretch? Nay, nay! They
ween that any hot desire is love; away with them, they wot nothing
of it! Men must ask saints if it is fair in heaven and fiends if it is
foul in hell.'
  Criseyde answered her nothing thereto, but said, 'In faith, it
will be night directly.' Yet every word that she had heard from her
she began to imprint fast in her heart, and ever love terrified her
less than it did at first, and began to sink into her heart, till
she was almost ready to be converted.
  The glory of the day, the eye of heaven, the foe of night (all
this means the sun!) had sped his day's course and was fast
westering and dropping downward; and white things began to wax dun
in the dimness, and the stars to appear, when she and her folk went in
together. So when she was ready to go to rest, and all but her women
had left the chamber, she said that she would sleep, and they
brought her anon to bed. When all was hushed she lay still and thought
of all this thing; how, I need not rehearse to you, for ye are wise!
Upon a green cedar, under the chamber-wall where she lay, a
nightingale sang full loud in the face of the bright moon;
peradventure, in his bird's manner, a lay of love that made his
heart glad. She hearkened to him so long that at last dead sleep
took her. And as she slept, anon she dreamed how an eagle with
feathers as white as bone set his long claws under her breast, and
anon rent out her heart and put his own heart into her breast, at
which she felt no fear or pain; and so, with heart left for heart,
forth he flew.
  Now we will let her sleep and hold forth our tale of Troilus, that
is ridden to the palace from the skirmish I told of. He sat in his
chamber waiting, till two or three of his messengers had gone for
Pandarus, and sought so diligently that at last they found and brought
him. Pandarus came bounding in and began to jape, 'Who has been well
drubbed to-day with swords and sling-stones but Troilus? Who is all
heated up? Lord, but you sweat! But arise,' he said, 'and let us sup
and go to rest.'
  'We will do as you list,' answered Troilus.
  With all the seemly haste they could they sped them from supper
and to bed, and every other wight betook him out at the door and away.
And now Troilus, whose very heart seemed to bleed for woe until he
heard news, said, 'Friend, now am I to weep or sing?'
  'Be still,' said Pandarus, 'and let me sleep, and put on your
night-cap! Your needs are sped; now choose if you will dance or sing
or leap! In few words, you are to trust in me. Sir, my niece will do
well by you and love you best, by God and by my faith, unless sloth
and lack of pursuit hinder! So far have I begun your work that this
morning I gained for you her love, as of a friend, and thereto has she
pledged her faith. At all events, a foot of your sorrow is cut off!'
Why should I make a longer discourse of it? He told it all to him as
you have heard before.
  Even as flowers, closed through the cold of night, and bent low on
their stalks, erect themselves in the bright sunshine, and stand
spreading and blooming in rows,- so did Troilus revive, and threw up
his eyes and said, 'O beloved Venus, praised be thy might and
grace!' And to Pandarus he held up both his hands and said, 'Lord, all
that I have is yours. I am all whole now, my bonds are broken. Whoever
should give me a thousand Troys one after another would not gladden me
so; oh my heart! it spreads so for joy, surely it will fly in
pieces! But how shall I do? Lord! how shall I live? When shall I
next see my dear heart? How can I go through this long time till you
go to her from me again? You may answer, "Wait, wait!" but he that
is hanging by the neck waits in great uneasiness!'
  'Easily, easily now, for the love of Mars!' cried Pandarus. 'There
is a time for everything. Wait till the night is gone, for as sure
as you are lying here by me I will be there at prime. Pray do somewhat
as I tell you, or lay your charges on someone else. God wot, I have
ever yet been ready to serve you; up to the present night I have never
feigned to you, but to the extent of my wit have done all your
pleasure, and ever will. Do now as I say and bear yourself with
reason,- if you will not, you may blame yourself for your troubles;
they are not my doing. I wot well that you are wiser than I a
thousand-fold; but if I were as you, God help me so as I should this
moment write her a letter with mine own hand in which I should tell
her how ill I fared, and beg her pity. Help yourself now, and
neglect not out of sloth. I myself will go to her with the letter, and
when you know that I am with her, do you mount a horse,- yea, in all
your best gear, and ride by the place as it were about some other
purpose; and if I may contrive it, you shall find us sitting at some
window looking into the street. If you will, then you may salute us,
but see that you look most upon me, and for your life beware of
tarrying at all, God shield us! Ride on your way and hold yourself in!
When you are gone, we shall speak somewhat of you, I promise you, to
make your ears glow! As to your letter, you are wise enough to know
how to write it. I know you will not write haughtily nor too artfully,
or argue pertinaciously, or compose a letter as if you were a
scrivener. And blot it with your tears a little. And if you think of
some goodly tender word, good though it be, repeat it not
over-often; for if the best harper alive, with the best-sounding and
merriest harp and the best-pointed nails, should touch ever one string
and ever play one descant, every wight's ears would grow dull to
hear his glee and his sounding strokes. And see that you jumble in
no discordant thing, as thus, to use terms of physic amongst
love-terms. Let your matter have alway its proper form, and let it
be ever alike. If a painter should paint a fish with asses feet, and
head it like an ape, it would not accord with itself; it were a mere
jest.'
  This counsel pleased Troilus well, but like a timid lover he said,
'Alas! dear brother Pandarus, I am ashamed to write lest in my
simplicity I might speak amiss, or in anger she might reject my
letter. If she did, naught could save me from death!'
  'If you will,' answered Pandarus, 'do as I say and let me go with
it. By the Lord that formed the east and the west, I hope anon to
bring an answer right from her hand. If you will not do it, let it
be then, and sorry be his life that ever again tries to help you
against your will!'
  Quoth Troilus, 'In God's name, I assent; I will arise and write if
you wish. And I devoutly pray blessed God to speed the letter I
shall write, and the sending of it. And do thou, fair Minerva, give me
wit to devise the letter!' And therewith he sat him down and wrote
in this wise.
  First, he called her his very lady, his heart's life, his joy, the
leech of his sorrow, his bliss, and by all those other terms that in
such cases ye lovers search for. Then full humbly he recommended him
to her grace, but to tell just how were to spend overmuch time. And
then lowly he prayed her not to be wroth though in his folly he made
bold to write to her, and he said that love caused him to do so, and
otherwise he could not live, and piteously he cried her mercy. Then he
said (and lied in his throat!) that he was worth little, and knew
less, and that she was to excuse him for his lack of wit; he told
how he feared her, and ever accused his own unworthiness, and he
told his woe, which was infinite for ever and ever, and how he would
ever hold his faith. Then he made his adieux, and folded the letter.
With salt tears he bathed the ruby in his signet and set it hastily
upon the wax, and a thousand times before he left off he kissed the
letter that he was sealing, and said, 'Letter, a blissful destiny is
ordained for thee,- my lady shall see thee.'
  Betimes on the morrow Pandarus was up with it, and sped to his
niece's palace, and said, 'Are you still asleep, at prime?' Then he
began to jest, 'Ah my heart! so fresh it is, for all love's
torments, I can never sleep of a May morning. I have a jolly woe and a
lusty grief!'
  When Criseyde heard her uncle, with her heart full of timidness
and desire to hear why he had come, she answered, 'Now on your
faith, my dear uncle, what manner of wind has blown you hither? Tell
us of your penance and your jolly woe. How far have you gone through
love's dance?'
  'By God!' quoth he, 'I hop always at the after end.' As she
laughed as if her heart would burst, he went on, 'Look that you always
find sport in my hood! But now please to listen.- There has but now
come into town a stranger, a Greek spy, who has news to tell, about
which I have brought you tidings. Let us go into the garden, and you
shall hear a long discourse about this privately.'
  With that they went arm in arm down from the chamber into the
garden, and when they had gone so far that no man could hear what he
spoke, he plucked out the letter and said, 'Lo, he who is wholly yours
commends him humbly to your favor and sends you this letter by me;
read it advisedly when you have time, and provide you some goodly
answer, or, to speak plainly and as God sees me, he cannot live longer
in such pains.'
  She stood still then in fear, and took it not, but all her modest
aspect began to grow more firm, and she said, 'Billet or note bring me
none that touches such matters, for the love of God; and also, dear
uncle, I pray you have more regard to my condition than to his
desires. What more can I say? Consider now if this be reasonable,
and shrink not, for partisanship or laziness, to admit the truth. Were
it agreeable to my condition to take this letter, or so to have
compassion on him as to bring harm or reproach on myself? Carry it
back, in the name of Him in whom you believe!'
  Pandarus began to stare upon her, and said, 'Now this is the
greatest wonder that ever I saw. Let be these foolish doings! May I be
smitten to death by lightning if I would bring you a letter to harm
you, for all the city that spreads yonder! What are you trying to
do? But thus you do, wellnigh all of you; he that most desires to
serve you, you reck the least what happens to him, or whether he lives
or dies. But, if I ever deserved anything from you, refuse it not,'
and with that word he seized her and thrust the letter down into her
bosom, saying, 'Now cast it from you straightway, that folk may see
and gape at us!'
  'I can abide till they be gone,' quoth she, and began to smile.
'Uncle, I pray you provide such an answer yourself as you will, for in
truth no letter will I write.'
  'No?' said he. 'Then I will, if you will dictate.'
  Thereat she laughed and said, 'Let us go and dine.'
  He began to jest at himself, and said, 'Niece, I am so pining for
love that every second day I fast,' and he so flung out his best quips
that she thought she should die of laughing at his mad folly.
  When she was come into the hall, 'Now, uncle,' quoth she, 'we will
dine anon,' and called some of her women and went straight to her
chamber; and amongst her other matters this doubtless was one- privily
to read the letter. She considered every line and every word, and
found no defect, and thought in truth he knew good manners. Up she put
it, and as, she went in to dinner found Pandarus standing in a muse.
Ere he was aware she caught him by the hood, and said, 'You were
caught before you knew it.'
  'I grant it,' quoth he; 'do as you list.'
  Then they washed and sat them down to eat. After dinner and noon
were passed, Pandarus slyly drew toward the window on the street and
said, 'Niece, who has thus arrayed yonder house that stands over
against us?'
  'Which house?' said she, and came to look and told whose it was; and
then they fell into talk of small matters, and both sat down in the
window.
  When Pandarus saw his time and that her folk were gone, 'Now,
niece,' he said, 'tell on. How like you the letter? Knows he how to
write one? By my troth, I wot not!'
  Thereat she waxed all rosy, and began to hum and said, 'I believe
so.'
  'Requite him well, for the love of God,' said he, 'and to repay
you I myself will sew up your letter.' Then he held up his hands and
fell on his knee.- 'Now, good niece, however small it be, give me
the task to fold and sew it.'
  'Yea,' quoth she, 'for I am such a writer! And besides I wot not
what I should say to him.'
  'Nay, niece,' said he, 'say not so! At the least I beg you to
thank him for his good-will, and let him not die. Now for the love
of me, refuse not my prayer this once!'
  'God grant all be well!' said she. 'So God help me, this is the
first letter that ever I wrote,- yea, whole letter or even a part.'
And she went alone into a closet to consider it more carefully, and
began to unfetter her heart a little out of the prison of Disdain, and
sat her down and began to write; and mean to tell the substance in
brief, so far as I can learn it. She thanked him for all his good
intent towards her, but she could not delude him, nor bind herself
to love; yet she would gladly ease his heart by kindness as of a
sister. She closed the letter and went back to Pandarus where he sat
looking into the street; and down she sat her by him on a
gold-embroidered cushion upon a stone of jasper, and said, 'So may the
great God help me, I never did a thing with more trouble than this
to which you constrain me!' Then she gave it him.
  He thanked her and said, 'God wot, of a loath beginning comes
often a good ending. And, my niece Criseyde, by yonder heavens, he has
reason to be glad that you are now hard to win, for men say,

             "Impressions light
              Are light for flight."

  But it is nigh too long that you have played the tyrant, and your
heart has been hard to grave; now cease this (even though you keep the
appearance of reserve), and haste you to grant him some joy; for trust
me, hardness too long kept up full oft causes pain to turn to anger.'
  Even as they were discoursing thus, right at the end of the street
came Troilus riding slowly in his troop of ten, and passed along
toward them as his way was to his palace. Pandarus espied him and
said, 'Niece, see who comes riding this way.- Ah, fly not in! He
sees us, no doubt, and he might think that you shun him!'
  'Nay, nay!' said she, and waxed ruddy like a rose. With that Troilus
humbly saluted her with a timid look, often changed color, and cast
a look up courteously, nodded to Pandarus and passed on his way. I
leave it to you if he sat well on his horse and was goodly to look
on that time and like a manly knight. Why should I be tedious, or tell
about his accoutrement? In a word, Criseyde, who saw all, liked all,
his person, his array, his look, his expression, his goodly manner and
his nobleness; and liked them so well that never had she such ruth for
his pain. However hard she had been aforetime, I hope in God she has
now caught a thorn which she will not pull out in the next week. God
send her more such thorns to pluck at!
  Pandarus, as he stood by, felt the iron hot and began to smite.
'Niece, I pray you heartily' he said, 'tell me what I ask you. A woman
that should be to blame for his death, without guilt of his but only
for her lack of pity,- were it well done?'
  'Nay, by my troth,' quoth she.
  'So God help me,' said he, 'you say the sooth now! You feel yourself
that I lie not. See, how nobly he rides yonder!'
  'Yea,' said she, 'so he does.'
  'Well, as I have thrice told you,' said he, 'let be your false shame
and your folly, and ease his heart by speaking with him. Let not silly
scruples hurt you both.'
  But here was a laborious task for Pandarus! 'Considering all things,
it might not be. And why plead for speech with him? It were too soon
to grant him such a privilege yet.' Her full intent, as she said,
was to love him unknown to any, if she could, and guerdon him only
with the sight of her.
  But Pandarus thought, 'It shall not be so. If I have any power,
she shall not hold this caprice any two years!' But why make a long
discourse of it? He must assent to this resolution for the time; and
when it drew toward night, and all was well, he took his leave, and
sped homeward, his heart bounding for joy. Troilus he found alone in
bed, lying, as do these lovers, in a trance betwixt hope and dark
despair. Pandarus came in singing, as if to say, 'I bring you
somewhat! Who is this buried in his bed so early?' he cried.
  'It is I, friend,' replied the other.
  'Who? Troilus? Nay, so help me the moon,' quoth Pandarus, 'you
must arise and see a charm that was sent you but now and can heal
you of your attack, if you do your diligence and help yourself.'
  'Yea, through the mighty blessing of God,' said Troilus.
  Then Pandarus handed him the letter, and said, 'Perdy, God has
helped us! Make a light here, and look on all these black marks!'
  Lord, how often did the heart of Troilus rejoice and quake whilst he
read the letter, as the words gave him hope and fear! But at last he
took for the best what she wrote him; for he saw somewhat on which his
heart might repose, though she covered her words under a shield.
Thus he held to the better side of it, so that, what with his own hope
and Pandarus' promises, his chiefest woe at least he gave up.
  But, as we may every day see ourselves, the more wood or coal
there is, the greater the fire; even so, as hope of aught increases,
so does the longing. Or even as an oak grows out of a little shoot, so
through this letter began desire to increase and burn him.
Therefore, I say, day and night hope kindled in Troilus more desire
than he had before, and he did all he could to press on, by
Pandarus' lessoning, and to write to her of his sore griefs. From
day to day he let not opportunity grow cool, but sent some note or
message by Pandarus, and did his other observances that behoove a
lover in such case. According as the dice turned up for him, he
rejoiced or said Alas!, and ever he pursued his fortunes, and,
according to the answers which he received, his days were sorry or
joyous. To Pandarus was ever his recourse, and piteously he lamented
to him and asked counsel or succor. Pandarus, who saw his mad torment,
waxed nigh dead for pity, and cast about with all his heart to slay
some of his woe straightway.
  'Lord and friend and brother dear,' he would say, 'God wot that your
pain is pain to me. Yet if you will but lighten this woful visage,
by my troth, before two days are gone I shall devise it that you shall
come to a certain place where you can yourself pray her for favor. And
certainly, I wot not if you know it, but those who are expert in
love say that one of the things that further a man most is to have a
good opportunity himself to press his suit and a safe place to
reveal his woe. In a kind heart it must kindle some pity to see and
hear the guiltless in pain. Perchance you are thinking, "Though so
be natural feeling may make her begin to have a sort of pity on me,
reserve will say, Nay you shall never win me; her heart's spirit so
rules her within that though she may bend, yet she grows firmly on her
root. What can all this do to cure me?"
  'Think, on the other side, that, when the sturdy oak has been hacked
at for a long time and at last receives the lucky blow which fells it,
its great mass causes it to come down all at once, like a rock or a
mill-stone; for heavy things come down with a swifter force than light
things do. The reed that bows with every blast will arise again full
lightly when the wind ceases, but so will not an oak when it is
overthrown.- But I need not parable you forever. A man shall rejoice
the more over a great emprise achieved well and enduringly, the longer
he has been about it.
  'But now, Troilus, if you please, tell me somewhat which I shall ask
you,- which of your brothers do you love best in your very heart of
hearts?'
  'Why, my brother Deiphobus,' said Troilus.
  'Ere four-and-twenty hours,' quoth Pandarus, 'he shall relieve you
without knowing it himself. Now leave me alone to work as I can.'
  To Deiphobus he went then, who had ever been his good lord and
friend, and whom he loved more than any save Troilus; and (to be
brief) he said, 'I pray you be friend to a cause which touches me
nearly.'
  'Yea, perdy!' said Deiphobus; 'you well know in all that ever I
can I am readier to serve you than any man save him that I love
most, my brother Troilus. But say wherefore it is. Since the day I was
born I never was, and never shall be, against anything, so I grieved
you thereby.'
  Pandarus thanked him and said, 'Lo, sir, I have a lady in this town,
my niece, named Criseyde, whom some men would fain oppress, and
wrongfully have her possessions. Wherefore, and this is all, I beseech
you of your lordship to be our friend.'
  'Ah,' Deiphobus answered him, 'is not this lady, whom you speak of
so distantly, Criseyde, my friend?'
  'Yea,' he said.
  'Then in truth,' replied Deiphobus, 'there needs no more of this,
for trust well that I will be her champion with shaft and spear, and I
care not though all her foes heard it. But you know about this
matter,- tell me how it may be done to most avail?'
  'Now let see,' quoth Pandarus; 'if you, my dear lord, would do me
this honor and pray her to come to you to-morrow and relate her
troubles, her adversaries would tremble to hear of it. And if I
durst ask more, and charge you with so great a trouble as to have some
of your brothers here with you who might help in her cause, then I wot
well she should never fail to be helped, through your urgency and
her other friends' managing.'
  Deiphobus, who was by nature ever ready for all acts of honor and
generosity, answered, 'It shall be done. And I can think of still a
greater help. What say you if I should send for Helen to speak about
this? I trow that is the best, for she can lead Paris as she will.
As to my Lord Hector, my brother, it needs not pray him to be her
friend, for once and again I have heard him speak such honor of
Criseyde that he could say no more; she stands so well with him it
needs not crave his help more, for he will be even such as we would
have him. But speak you also to Troilus on my behalf, and pray him
to dine with us.'
  'Sir, all this shall be done,' Pandarus said, and took his leave,
and never stopped till as straight as a line he came to his niece's
house. He found her but just arisen from meat, and sat him down and
spoke in this wise.
  'Lord, how I have run! See you not how I sweat, niece? Yet I know
not whether you are the more grateful to me! Are you not aware how
false Polyphetes is about to go to law again and bring you new
trouble?'
  'I? No!' she said, and changed color. 'What? Goes he about to harass
and injure me more? Alack, what shall I do? I should not care for
him were it not for Antenor and Aeneas, who stand his friends in these
things. But for the love of heaven, no matter,- let him have all he is
after at once; I have enough for ourselves without that.'
  'Nay,' said Pandarus, 'it shall never be so, for I have been even
now with Deiphobus and Hector and others of my lords, and in short,
set each of them against him; so that, as I hope to be saved, he shall
never prevail against you, whatsoever he may try.'
  As they were considering what were best to do, Deiphobus of his
courtesy came himself to pray her to bear him company on the morrow at
dinner, to which she assented in goodly manner. He thanked her and
went his way; and after him Pandarus departed quietly to Troilus,
and told him word for word how he had hoodwinked Deiphobus. 'Now is
your time; bear yourself well to-morrow, and all is won. Now speak,
now pray, now bewail piteously, neglect it not for false shame or fear
or sloth. Sometimes a man must tell his troubles for himself.
Believe this, and she will show you pity; you shall, in truth, be
saved by your faith. But I see clearly you are afraid at this
moment, and I lay a wager I can tell why! You are thinking, "How can I
do all this? By my very look folk will see that it is for her love
that I fare so ill. Rather than that I would die for sorrow
unknown." Think not so, do no such folly; for I have just found a
cunning device so that folk need not see your face. You shall go
straightway for overnight to Deiphobus' house, as it were to amuse
yourself and drive away your malady (for indeed you seem sick). Soon
after you are to go to bed, and say you can no longer endure to be
about; and lie right there and await your fortune. Say that your fever
is wont to take you about that time and to last till the morrow; and
let us see now how well you can feign, for he that is in sorrow is
sick. Go now, farewell! And now before Venus I trust that if you
hold to this purpose, she shall fully confirm her favor to you.'
  'In faith,' said Troilus, 'you need not counsel me to feign me sick,
for I am sick in earnest, nigh unto death.'
  'You will the better bewail you, then,' quoth Pandarus, 'and have
the less need to counterfeit. Him that men see sweat they will readily
deem hot! Hold close to your trist, and I will drive the deer to
your bow.'
  Therewith he quietly took his leave; Troilus went straight to his
palace, gladder than ever before in his life, and took Pandarus'
advice and went at night to Deiphobus' house. What need to tell you of
all the cheer that his brother made him, or of his feigned attack,
or his sick look, how they loaded him with coverlets when he was
laid a-bed, and how they tried to cheer him? All their efforts were
for naught; he held to the course that Pandarus had counselled him.
But it is known that, ere Troilus was a-bed, Deiphobus had prayed
him to be a friend and helper to Criseyde. God wot he agreed anon to
be her full friend with all his might; as much need to pray him for
that as to bid a madman to run wild!
  The morrow came and the time of dinner approached; the fair queen
Helen was to be an hour after prime with Deiphobus, whom she would not
fail, but came to dinner quietly as his sister, suspecting naught. But
God and Pandarus knew what this was all about! Criseyde came also, all
innocent of this, and Antigone and her sister Tarbe also. Now let us
flee prolixity, for the love of God, and go speedily to the outcome,
without a longer tale of how all these folk were assembled there,
and let us pass over their salutations!
  Deiphobus did them all honor, and fed them with all that might
please them; but evermore his refrain was, 'Alas! my good brother
Troilus still lies sick,' and therewith he would sigh; and then he
would strive to make good cheer and to entertain them as best he
could. Helen eke lamented his sickness so heartily that it was pitiful
to hear; and every wight for the nonce became a leech, and said, 'Thus
and thus men cure folk,'- 'This or that charm I will tell you.' And
all the time one sat there who said nothing, but thought, 'Yet I could
be his leech better than any!' After bewailing him they began to
praise him, as folk will do still, when someone has begun to praise
a man; then the rest fell to and exalted him a thousand-fold higher
than the heavens! 'There be few lords who are and can do as much as
he.' And Pandarus forgot not to confirm all they could say in his
praise. All this Criseyde heard well enough, and laid it up in her
memory, whilst her heart bounded within her; and who would not glorify
her who had the power of life and death over such a knight? But I pass
over all this, lest I keep you too long; all that I tell is only for
the outcome of it.
  When the time came to rise from dinner, they talked of this and that
for a season. But shortly Pandarus broke off this speech and said,
'Will you speak now, as I prayed you, of the necessities of Criseyde?'
  Helen, who was holding her by the hand, first spoke; 'Let us do so
quickly,' she said, looking kindly upon Criseyde; 'ill luck and
short life to him who would harm her, and to me if I do not all I
can to make him rue it!'
  'Do you tell your niece's case,' said Deiphobus to Pandarus, 'for
you can tell it best.'
  'My lords and ladies,' he began, 'it stands thus,- why should I
delay you by a longer tale?' And then he rung them out an account of
her foe, Polyphetes by name, so villainous that one would spit on
it! At this each one exclaimed more indignantly than the last, and all
cursed Polyphetes: 'Such a man should be hanged, though he were my own
brother, and so he shall be without fail!' Why should I tarry longer
over this account? They all at once fully promised to be her friends
in all that ever they could.
  Helen then said, 'Pandarus, knows my lord my brother about this,-
I mean Hector? Knows Troilus of it?'
  'Yea,' he answered, 'but listen to me now; since Troilus is here,
methinks it were good, if you assent, that she herself should tell him
all this before she goes. Because she is a lady, he will have her
grief more at heart. By your leave I will now but run in and let you
know whether he sleeps, or will hear about this.' In he darted and
whispered to him, 'God have your soul! I am bringing your bier!'
Troilus smiled, and Pandarus without more parley went out anon to
Helen and Deiphobus, and said, 'If there be no long staying nor more
company, he would have you bring in my lady Criseyde here, and he will
listen to her as well as he can. But you know well the chamber is
small, and even a few people will quickly make it hot; look you, I
will incur no blame by bringing in a company that might injure or
discomfort him no, not for my better arm! You who know what is best,
consider whether she had better wait till another time. As for me,
it seems to me best that no wight should go in but you two, unless
it were I also; for I can in few words rehearse her case better than
she can; and after that she might pray him in short to be her good
lord and then take her leave. This could not much disturb his quiet;
and he need not forbear his ease for you, as he will for her, being
little known to him, and then I know well he would tell you another
thing that it behooves her not to hear, that is secret and for the
profit of the town.'
  So they, knowing naught of his purpose, went in to Troilus without
more ado. Helen in her sweet and gentle wise began to salute and rally
him, and said, 'Indeed you must be up soon, fair brother; now I pray
you be all well!' And then she laid her arm over his shoulder, and
tried with all her wit to encourage and divert him. After this she
said, 'We beseech you, my dear brother Deiphobus and I, for the love
of God,- and so does Pandarus eke,- to be good lord and hearty
friend to Criseyde, who has of a certainty had wrong usage, as
Pandarus here knows, who can declare her case better than I.'
  Then Pandarus began to polish his tongue, and anon rehearsed her
case; and then shortly, when he was done, Troilus replied, 'By my
troth, as soon as I can walk I will right fain with all my might be
one of those to sustain her cause.'
  'Now blessings on you for that!' said Helen the queen.
  'If it were your pleasure,' said Pandarus then, 'that she might take
her leave before she went,-'
  'Ah, God forbid otherwise,' he replied, 'if she would vouchsafe to
do so!- But you two, Deiphobus and my dear sister, I must speak of one
matter to you, to gain your counsel'; and as hap was he found at his
bed's head a copy of a document and a letter from Hector, asking
counsel whether such and such a man (I wot not who) were worthy of
death; and in a grave manner he prayed them anon to consider it.
Deiphobus very seriously began to unfold this letter, and as they
strolled out, and down a stair, he and queen Helen earnestly looked
upon it, and in a green arbor read the thing together, poring over
it fully an hour.
  And so we leave them reading, and turn to Pandarus, who pried
about to see that all was well, and hastened out into the larger
chamber and said, 'God save all this company! Come, my niece, my
lady queen Helen awaits you, and also my two lords; arise and bring
with you your niece Antigone or whom you will. Or no matter, in
truth,- the less crowd the better. Come forth with me, and look that
you humbly thank them all, and when you see a fair season take your
leave of them, lest we bereave him of his rest too long.'
  Criseyde replied, all innocent of Pandarus' intent, 'Let us go, dear
uncle,' and went in with him arm in arm, her mind all on what she
should say and how demean her; whilst Pandarus said earnestly to the
rest, 'I pray you all to remain here, and be not too noisy in your
mirth; consider what folk are within here, and in what plight one of
them is, God amend him!' And as he went in, he said, 'Niece, I conjure
you, begin full softly; and in the name of Him who has given life to
us all, slay not this man who suffers so for your love! Fie on the
Devil! Think who the man is and in what plight he is lying. Haste you,
and think that whilst you tarry, time is utterly lost; as you will
both say when once you are one. And secondly, think that as yet none
divines aught of you two. Hasten now, if you can; whilst folk are
blinded, all the time is clear gain. As he pursues and you hesitate
and tarry, the moving of a straw will set folk to guessing, so that,
though afterwards you would have merry days, you will dare naught. And
why? Because she and she spake such a word, and he and he cast such
a look! I dare not deal longer with you, lest I lose time; so up
with you, and bring him to health!'
  But now, ye lovers that are here, was not Troilus in a parlous
state, that lay and heard them whispering, and thought, 'Ah Lord,
now is my lot being cast, utterly to die or straightway to have
comfort!' At this, the first time when he should entreat her for
love,- ah, mighty God! what shall he say?

                       «Explicit Secundus Liber.»


{BK3
                              Book III

                   «Incipit Prohemium Tercii Libri.»


  O blessed planet of which the clear beams adorn all the third fair
sphere of heaven, O darling of the sun, dear daughter of Jove, giver
of love's pleasance, goodly gracious one, ever ready to repair to
gentle hearts, O very cause of weal and of gladness, praised be thy
might and bounty! In heaven and hell, in earth and in the salt sea, is
felt thy power; man and beast, bird and fish, herb and green tree,
if I see clearly, in their due seasons feel thy heavenly exhalation.
God loves, and will not forbid to love, and no living creature in this
world without love is worth aught or can endure. Thou first didst move
Jove to those joyous deeds through which all things live and are,
and madest him amorous of mortal beings; and as thou wouldst thou ever
gavest him in love content or adversity, and madest him to come down
in a thousand forms for love on earth, and to take whom thou
wouldst. Thou dost appease the ire of fierce Mars. As thou wilt thou
makest hearts noble; those that thou wilt set a-fire, they abandon
vices and dread shame, thou makest them to be courteous, lusty and
benign, and to high and low, after a wight's deserts, thy might
sends what joys they have. Thou holdest kingdom and house in unity,
thou art the faithful cause of friendship. Thou knowest all those
covert properties of things at which folk wonder so, when they
cannot construe how it may come about that she loves him or he her,
even as why this fish and not that comes to the net. Thou hast set a
law for folk through all the world, and this I know from lovers,
that whoso strives with thee hath the worse. Now, lady bright, of
thy benignity teach me to describe in honor of those who serve thee,
whose clerk I am, some of that joy which is felt in thy service.
Pour feeling into my barren heart, and let me show thy sweetness!
Calliope, be thy voice now present, for now is need! Seest thou not
the strait I am in, how I must tell anon in Venus' praise the joy of
Troilus? To which joy may God bring him who has need!

                   «Explicit prohemium Tercii Libri.»

                        «Incipit Liber Tercius.»

  All this meanwhile lay Troilus repeating his lesson in this wise:
'My faith! I will say thus and thus; I will lament thus to my dear
lady. This word is good, and thus and thus I will look. This and
that I will be sure not to forget.' God grant him to do as he plans!
And Lord, how his heart began to flutter and his sighs to come
short, as he heard her come! Pandarus, leading her by the robe,
approached and began to peep in at the curtain, and said, 'God work
a cure on all the sick! See who is come here to visit you; here she is
who is to blame for your death'; and thereat it seemed as if he wept
almost.
  'Ah, ah,' said Troilus ruefully, 'God knows that I fare ill
enough! Who is there? In faith, I see nothing.'
  'Sir,' Criseyde said, 'it is Pandarus and I.'
  'You, dear heart? Alas! I am not able to rise to kneel and do you
honor'; and therewith he raised himself upright, and she at once put
both her hands softly upon him.
  'Ah, for the love of God, do not so to me,' said she; 'ah, what
means this? Sir, I am come to you for only two causes,- first to thank
you, and then to beseech you for continuance of your friendly
lordship.'
  When Troilus heard his lady pray him for lordship, he was between
life and death for shame, nor could he have said a word in reply,
though one had been about to smite off his head; and Lord, how ruddy
he waxed all suddenly! And, sirs, the lesson that he thought he knew
by heart to pray his lady with, was all run out of his memory.
  Criseyde, who had a good wit, espied all this well enough and
loved him none the less, though he were not malapert or pertinacious
or over-bold, to sing a fool a mass. But what he said, when his
shame had begun to go by, I will tell you as well as I can, as I
find it in old books. The first word that escaped him was, twice,
'Mercy, mercy, dear heart!' And this he spoke in a voice changed and
trembling for very fear, and his goodly bearing abashed, his hue now
red now pale, and his look downcast, humble and submissive. After
these words he stopped a while, and his next words, when he could
bring them out, were, 'God wot, so far as I have any wit at all, I
have ever been all yours, and shall be till I am buried. Though I
neither dare nor know how to make my lament to you, in faith I
suffer none the less pain. Thus much I can utter now to the perfect
woman whom I serve. If this displease you, right soon I will wreak
it upon my own life, and do your heart a pleasure if my death can
appease your wrath; for since you have once heard me say somewhat, I
reck not how soon I die.'
  Therewith to behold his manly sorrow might have melted a heart of
stone. Pandarus wept as if he would turn to water, and ever poked
his niece and said, 'It is true hearts that suffer! For the love of
God, make an end of this thing, or slay us both at once in this
place!'
  'Why, what?' quoth she. 'By my troth, I wot not what you would
have me say.'
  'Why, what?' he answered. 'That you will have pity on him and not
kill him.'
  'Well, then,' she said, 'I would pray him first to tell me his
object and intent. I have never yet truly known what he means.'
  'What I mean, sweet dear heart, goodly blooming noble one?' said
Troilus. 'That you would sometimes look on me kindly with the beams of
your clear eyes; and then agree that without hint of evil in any way I
may be he always to do you faithful service, as to my own lady and
chief delight, with all my wit and diligence; and that I should
have, at your good pleasure and subject to your rod, comfort as
great as my pain has been, and death if I break your commands; and
that you deign to honor me so much as to lay any order upon me at
any hour; and that I should be your true, humble, trusty servant,
patient in my pains, evermore freshly desirous of diligent service,
ready to receive your every desire with good will, however sorely I
suffer:- this is my meaning, my own dear heart.'
  'Lo, here is a hard request,' quoth Pandarus, 'reasonable for a lady
to refuse! Now, my niece, were I a god you should die without mercy
before the feast of Jove's birth, who have heard that this man desires
naught but your honor, and see him wellnigh dying, and yet are so
loath to suffer him to serve you.'
  At that she began to turn her eyes on Troilus full simply and
gently, whilst she considered with herself, and hastened not too
fast with ever a word, but said soberly, 'Saving mine honor, and in
such form as he has now said, I am truly willing to receive him
fully to my service; beseeching him for God's love, and to the honor
of faithfulness and nobility, that as I mean well to him so will he to
me, and ever safeguard mine honor with prudence and diligence. And
if from henceforth I can give him joy, in truth I will not fail.-
Now be all whole again, and mourn no longer. But nevertheless I give
you this warning,- king's son though you be, you shall have no more
sovereignty over me in love than is right in such a case. If you do
amiss, I will not forbear angering you; and whilst you serve me I will
cherish you after your deserts. And in a word be glad, dear heart
and all my knight, and be lusty and strong once more, and I will truly
with all my power turn all your bitter into sweet. If I am she who may
do you joy, for every woe you shall recover a felicity.' And then
she took him in her arms and began to kiss him.
  Pandarus fell on his knees, threw up his eyes to heaven and held his
hands on high: 'Immortal god Cupid,' quoth he, 'of this thou mayst
boast; and Venus, thou mayst make melody. For this miracle I seem to
hear each bell in the town ring without hands! But stop, no more now
of this; for these folk ere now will have read the letter and will
be up anon. Hark! I hear them. But I conjure you, Criseyde, and you,
Troilus, when you are able to walk, that you be in my house at my
summons when I shall devise your coming. There you shall relieve
your hearts right well, and we shall see which shall bear the palm
in talking of love,' and therewith he laughed, 'for there you shall
have leisure for it!'
  'How long must I wait ere this be done?' quoth Troilus.
  'When you are up and about,' he replied, 'this shall be done as I
have said.'
  With that Helen and Deiphobus were coming up even at the top of
the stair. And Lord! how Troilus began to groan, to hoodwink his
brother and sister! Quoth Pandarus, 'It is time for us to go. Take
your leave of all three, niece, and let them speak together, and
come forth with me.'
  She took her leave of them full discreetly, as she well knew how,
and they saluted her with all regard, I warrant you; and when she
was gone, they commended her demeanor, her distinction and her wit,
till it was a joy to hear them.
  Now we will leave her on the way to her own house, and turn again to
Troilus, who full lightly dismissed the letter that Deiphobus had seen
in the garden, and would fain have been rid of Helen and of him. He
said that he would fain sleep, and after all that talk have rest.
Helen kissed him and took her leave betimes, and Deiphobus also; and
every wight went home. Pandarus, as fast as he could, came back to
Troilus, and all that joyous night he lay on a pallet by him to
chat, and glad they were to be together.
  When every other wight was gone out and the doors were shut fast, to
tell it shortly, Pandarus rose up and sat on the bedside, and began to
speak soberly to Troilus as I shall tell you: 'My most loved lord
and dear brother, God knows, and you know, how sore I grieved this
year when I saw you so languishing more and more for love; so that
with all my might and wit I have ever since done my diligence to bring
you to joy, and I have now brought you to the state you wot of, so
that through me you stand now in a fair way to thrive. Yet I say
this for no boast, and know you why? Because (and a shame it is to say
it) for your sake I have begun a sort of game which I will never do
again for any man, though he were my brother a thousand-fold. That
is to say, betwixt sport and earnest I am become for your sake such
a go-between as brings women to men,- you know yourself what I mean. I
have made my innocent niece so fully to trust your honor that all
shall be even as you desire. But I take the all-wise God to witness
that I never wrought this out of covetousness, but only to relieve
that distress for which I thought you were wellnigh dying. So good
brother, for God's love, since you have discretion, spare her fair
name. You well know that amongst the people her name as yet is
wellnigh sainted, for I dare to say that there never was wight that
ever knew her to do amiss. Woe is me that I who have caused all this
new affair should know that she is my dear niece, and I at once her
uncle and betrayer. Were it known that I had contrived to put the
fantasy into my niece's head to do your pleasure and to be wholly
yours, why! all the people would cry out upon it and say that I did
the worst treachery in the world, she ruined and you profited nothing.
Wherefore, ere I go a step further, I pray you again on your life that
secrecy go with us in this affair, that is, that you never reveal
it. Be not wroth though I often pray you to hold so high a matter
secret, for my request you well know is reasonable. Think what woe has
betided from making boasts, of old time as we read, and what
mischances there are yet in this world from day to day for that same
wicked offence. Wherefore these wise clerks that are dead have ever
handed down such saws to us their posterity:

            "The first of virtues is to hold thy tongue."

  And were it not for diffuseness of speech, I could produce for you
nigh a thousand old stories of women lost through men's false and
foolish bragging. You know proverbs enough yourself against that fault
of telling tales, even though men told truth as often as they lie.
Alas, how often has one tongue made many a bright lady to say,
"Alack the day that I was born!", and kept alive many a maiden's
sorrow; and for the more part, if it were brought to the test, it is
all untrue that men boast of. In the very nature of the thing, no
braggart is to be believed. Vaunter and liar, both are one. Suppose
thus: a woman grants me her love and says she will have none other,
swears me to keep it secret, and afterwards I go and tell it to two or
three; surely at the best I am a braggart, and a liar too, for I broke
my promise. Look then if they are not to blame, such manner of
folk,- indeed, what shall I call them?,- who make their boast of
women, and name their names, who never yet promised them anything, nor
knew them more than my old hat! It is no wonder, so God save me!, that
women fear to deal with us men. I say not this for mistrust of you
or of any wise man, but because of silly fools and the harm that comes
in this world as much from folly as from malice. No woman, if she
consider well, fears that fault in wise folk; for the wise are
cautioned by the harm that fools run into.
  'But now to the point. Dear brother, have all this that I have
said in mind; keep your counsel and be of good cheer. In due season
you shall find me faithful, and I will set your affair in such train
that you shall be well content, for it shall be right as you would
have it. I know well that your intent is honest, and therefore I
dare fully undertake this. You know what your lady has granted you;
the day is set to draw up the charter! And now good-night, for I can
no longer wake, but now that you are in bliss pray for me that God
send me soon either death or relief!'
  Who could tell half the joy and jubilation which the soul of Troilus
felt when he heard Pandarus' promises? His old woe, that had made
his heart faint, wasted and melted away in his joy, and all his
store of sore sighs took wings at once, and he felt them no longer.
Even as these hedge-rows and woods, that have been dead and dry
through the winter, revest themselves in green when May is come and
every lusty wight is gamesome, even so of a sudden was his heart
full of rapture, and never was there a gladder man in all Troy. He
cast up his look on Pandarus full gravely and friendly, and said,
'Friend, in April last you will remember how nigh death for woe you
found me, and how busily you tried to learn from me the cause of my
distress. You know how long I forbore to tell it, to you who are the
man whom most of all I trust; yet there was no peril in revealing it
to you, as I knew well. Tell me if you please, how could I dare to
tell others of this matter, who am of a tremble now, when no man can
hear us? But nevertheless I swear to you by that God who governs all
this world at His own pleasure,- and may Achilles with his spear
cleave my heart, though my life were as eternal as it truly is mortal,
if I swear falsely and if I late or soon would or durst or could
reveal it, for all the wealth that God made under the sun,- I swear to
you that I would rather die, come to my end in cruel King
Agamemnon's prison, in the stocks amongst vermin and filth and
wretchedness; and this I will swear to you to-morrow in all the
temples of this town upon all the gods, if you wish to hear me. And
I know well that you have done so much for me that I can nevermore
deserve it, though I could die for you a thousand times a day. What
more can I say than that I will serve you as your very slave,
whithersoever you go, forever unto my life's end?
  'But here I beseech you heartily that you never fancy in me such
folly as this,- methought I saw in your speech your fear that I
might deem what you are doing for me for friendship's sake to be the
acts of a bawd. I am not mad, though I be unlettered; I know well
the difference, perdy. He that goes on such a message for gold or
riches, call him what you will; but this which you do, call it a
gentle deed, and compassion and fellowship and trustfulness. All men
know that distinctions must be made betwixt things that look alike.
And that you may know I think not this service of yours to be a
shame or scorn, here is my fair sister Polyxena, or Cassandra or Helen
or any of the company; be she never so fair and shapely, tell me
whichever of all you will have for yours, and let me alone to give her
you! But since you have done me this benefit, to save my life and
out of no hope of reward, now for the love of God perform this great
emprise to the end, for now is greatest need, and I will ever obey all
your behests, great and small. So now good-night, and let us both
sleep.'
  Thus was each of them well content with the other, so that all the
world could not have made them more so. On the morrow, when they
were up and arrayed, each went about his own affairs. But Troilus,
though hope and pleasure made him burn in the sharp flames of
desire, forgot not his prudent self-control, but restrained in manly
wise each hasty act and unbridled look, so that not a living person
could have known by word or manner what was in his mind. His true
thoughts were as far as the clouds from every wight, so well he
could dissemble. And all this time that I am speaking of, this was his
life: by day with all his power he served Mars in knightly arms, and
for the most part he lay the long night and thought how he might
best serve his lady and win her thanks. And though he lay full soft, I
will not say that he was not somewhat discomforted in his thoughts,
and that he turned not often on his pillows, and often longed not
after the thing he lacked. In such cases, for aught I know, other
men find it not all pleasure, any more than he did. But meanwhile,
to come to the main thing, it certainly is written in the story that
he saw his lady sometimes, and also that she spoke with him when she
durst and would, and that they both considered full warily how they
should proceed in everything in this matter. But they spoke so
hurriedly and in such watchful dread lest any wight should guess or
overhear, that more than aught else they wished that Cupid would let
them have their say out. But in the little that they spoke or did
together, he was so heedful of all, that he seemed to her to know what
she thought without a word from her, so that she had no need to ask
him to do aught, or to forbid aught; wherefore it seemed to her that
love, though it had come late, was opening to her the door to all
joys. And, briefly to pass on in this tale, he so well employed his
words and acts that he stood fully in his lady's grace, and twenty
thousand times before she was done she thanked God that ever she had
met with him; so well he knew how to bear himself in this
lover's-service that no one in the world could have shown a better
way. For she found him in all things so discreet, so secret and so
compliant, that she felt he was to her a wall of steel, a shield
against everything displeasing, so that she was no longer afraid to be
under the governance of so prudent a man, I mean so far as the case
required.
  And to keep up this fire Pandarus was ever alike ready and diligent:
all his thoughts were set on easing his friend, and ever he pushed on.
He was sent to and fro, he fetched letters when Troilus was away.
Never a wight bore himself better to help his friend in time of need.
  But now peradventure some man may look for me to rehearse every word
or message, every look or smile of Troilus to his lady dear in all
this time. I trow that were long to listen to, or to show all the
words or every look of a man that stands in such a plight! In sooth
I have never heard it done in any story, nor anyone here, I trow. I
could not tell it all, though I would, for, as mine author says, there
was one letter passed betwixt them that may well have contained a
hundred verses, which he list not write of; how then should I endite a
line of it?
  But now to the consummation of it all. I say this, that,- whilst
these two were in quiet and concord, as I have said, during this
time that was so sweet, save only that they could not often come
together or have leisure to say all they would,- Pandarus thought he
had found a time for that which he had long striven for, to bring some
time his fair niece and Troilus together at his house, where all
this high matter of their love might be fully unraveled at leisure.
Earnestly deliberating, he had foreseen and executed everything
which might help his plan, and had spared no cost or labor. Let them
come if they would, nothing should be lacking to them. And as to being
espied there at all, that he knew to be impossible. Of a surety the
wind was clear of every prating magpie and every spoil-sport; thus all
was well, for all the world was blind to the thing. The timber is
all ready to set up; naught is lacking but that we should know the
hour in which she is to come.
  Troilus, who knew fully of all this planning and watched it
longingly, had founded his own plans upon it and devised his
pretext, namely, that, if he were missed night or day whilst he was
about this love-matter, he was gone to do sacrifice, and must watch
alone at such and such a temple to receive an answer of Apollo, and to
see the holy laurel-tree shake before Apollo spoke from it, to tell
him when the Greeks should flee. Therefore let no man hinder him
(God forbid!), but rather pray Apollo to speed him!
  Now there was little more to do; but Pandarus was up and at it,
and (in brief) just after the changing of the moon, when the world
is lightless a night or two, and when the heavens seemed preparing a
rain, he went straightway on a morning to his niece, with what
intent you have all heard. When he was come, he began to make sport as
he was wont; and to make a mock of himself, and finally he swore by
that and this that she should not evade him or make him longer gape
after her, but she must certainly vouchsafe to come and sup in his
house that evening. At which she laughed and made excuses, and said,
'It is raining,- why, how can I go?'
  'A truce to this,' he replied; 'stand not thus debating! This must
be done, and you shall soon be there.'
  So at the last they agreed upon it; otherwise, as he softly swore to
her in her ear, he would never come where she was again. And she began
sportively to whisper him, and asked if Troilus were to be there. Nay,
he swore to her, for he was out of town, and added, 'Supposing he
were, niece, you need never have the more fear, for rather than folk
should espy him there, I would die a thousand times.'
  Mine author list not fully declare what she thought when he told her
that Troilus was gone out of town, whether she thought he spoke
truth therein or no; but he says that without more delay she agreed to
go with him, since he begged her, and gave him due obedience as his
niece. But nevertheless she besought him, though there were no real
cause of fear, to beware the talk of goosish people, who fancy
things that never were, and to consider well whom he brought to his
house. 'Uncle, since I must trust you,' she said, 'look that all be
well, for I am doing as you wish.' He swore this to her, by stock
and stone and by the gods that dwell in heaven; or else, flesh and
blood, he would abide with King Pluto as deep in hell as Tantalus! Why
should I make a long story? When all was fixed, he arose and took
leave.
  That night she came to supper, with a certain attendance of her
own men, and her fair niece Antigone and eight or nine other of her
women. But who was glad now? Who but Troilus, think you, that stood
and saw them through a little window in a closet where he was mewed up
till midnight, unwitting to everybody but Pandarus? But now to our
point. When she was come, with all joy and friendly greeting her uncle
took her anon in his arms, and after, when the time came, one and
all sat them down full quietly to the supper. God wot, there was no
dainty needed to be fetched! After supper they rose, well content with
the world, and with hearts lusty and glad. Happy was he who had the
best device to please her, or who made her laugh! One sang, another
played, one told a tale of Wade's boat. But at the last, as everything
comes to an end, she must be going home, and took leave.
  But ah, Fortune, executrix of destiny! Ah, influences of the high
heavens! True it is that, under God, ye are our governors, though
the manner be veiled from us beasts! This I say now, that Criseyde was
about to hasten homeward; but all without her leave the gods' will was
executed, wherefore she must remain. The bent moon with her pale
horns, and Saturn and Jupiter, were conjunct in Cancer, so that such a
rain came down from heaven that every woman there was in a very fright
for that pounding rain; at which Pandarus laughed and said, 'Now
were the time for a lady to get her hence! But, good niece, if I
ever pleased you in anything, I beg you now to do my heart such a
pleasure as to remain here all night with me; for niece, this is
your own house, perdy! Now, by my troth, I say it not in sport,- for
you to go now would shame me.'
  Criseyde, who had as much prudence as half the world all together,
took heed of his request, and since it rained so and all was
a-flood, she thought, 'I may as well remain and agree gladly, with a
friendly cheer, and win his thanks, as grumble and then remain; for as
to going home, that may not be.- I will,' she said, 'sweet dear uncle;
since you wish me, it is only reason, and I am right glad to remain
here with you, and I was but jesting when I said I would go.'
  'Gramercy, niece, verily,' he said. 'Whether you were jesting or no,
I am right glad now that you will remain.' Thus far all was well.
And then again began new joy and festivity. But Pandarus would fain,
if he could in manners, have hastened her to bed; and said, 'Lord,
this is a huge rain, this is a storm to sleep through, and my
counsel is that we soon begin to try! And, niece, know you where I
shall lodge you? Right yonder in my little inner chamber, that you may
hear no noise of thunder or of rain, and I alone in the outer house
will be guardian of all your women. They shall all sleep soft and well
in this middle chamber that you see here, and you shall be there
within; and if you rest well to-night, come often, whatever weather is
above you.- The wine anon!- Whenever you are ready, it is time to go
to rest.'
  There is nothing more to say but that straightway they drank their
final draught, and drew curtains, and every wight that had no more
business there went out of the chamber. And evermore it rained and
blew so marvellous loud that scarce could one hear another. Then her
uncle Pandarus, as was fitting, with such of her women as were most
privy with her, brought her full cheerily to her bed's side, and
took his leave, bowing full low and saying, 'Without this chamber door
and just across, lie all your women, so that you may call hither
whom you will of them.' So when she was laid down in the inner
chamber, and all her women in order a-bed as I have told, there was no
more skipping or tramping about; but if any man were anywhere stirring
he was bidden get to bed, Devil take him! and let those who were a-bed
get to sleep.
  But Pandarus, who knew well the old game and every point of it, when
he saw that all was well so far, thought he would begin his work. He
softly undid Troilus' closet door, sat down by him as still as a
stone, and (to come briefly to the point) told him every word of all
this thing, and said, 'Make you ready anon, for you shall go into
the bliss of heaven!'
  'Now Saint Venus,' quoth Troilus, 'send me grace, for never yet such
need had I before, nor half the fear!'
  'Fear never a bit,' said Pandarus, 'for it shall be even as you
would have it. By my thrift, this night shall I make all well, or else
cast all the gruel in the fire!'
  'Yet do thou inspire me, blessed Venus,' quoth Troilus, 'as surely
as I serve thee now and ever shall better and better till I die!
And, O mirthful goddess, if I had evil aspects of Mars or Saturn
when I was born, or thou wert combust or feeble, pray thy father of
his grace to turn away all that harm, that I may go my way
rejoicing, for the love of him whom thou didst love in the
wood-shaw, I mean Adonis, that was slain by the boar. And help,
Jove, for the love of fair Europa, whom thou in the form of a bull
didst fetch away! Mars, with thy bloody mantle, hinder me not, for the
love of the Cyprian dame Phoebus, think how Daphne shut herself
under the bark and for fear became a laurel-tree; yet for her love,
help me now at this need! Mercury too, for the love of Herse, for
which Pallas was wroth with Aglaurus, now help! And Diana, I beseech
thee that this emprise be not hateful to thee! O three fatal
sisters, who spun me my destiny ere any garment was shapen for me, now
help this work that is beginning!'
  'You wretched mouse's heart!' quoth Pandarus. 'Are you aghast that
she will bite you? Why, don this furred cloak over your shirt and
follow me. I will take the blame!- But abide, and let me go before a
little.' With that word he began to undo a trap, and led Troilus in by
the skirt of his garment.
  The stern wind snorted so loud that no wight could hear any other
noise, and they who lay without the door were all safely asleep.
Pandarus with a full sober cheer went anon to the door where they
lay and softly shut it. As he was coming back privily, his niece awoke
and asked, 'Who is walking there?'
  'My dear niece,' quoth he, 'it is I. Wonder not at it, and fear
not.' And he came close and said in her ear, 'Not a word, for the love
of God, I beseech you! Let no wight arise and hear us talking.'
  'Why, «benedicite,» what way came you in,' she asked, 'thus
without their knowing?'
  'Here at this little trap-door,' said he.
  'Let me call someone,' she said then.
  'Eh, God forbid that you should do such a folly!' quoth Pandarus.
'They might imagine what they have never once thought of. It is not
good to wake a sleeping hound, nor to give any wight cause for
conjecturing. I will be bound your women are all asleep, and will be
till sun-up, so that, for all them, men could mine the house. And when
I have said all my say, I will go away unnoticed even as I came.
  'Now, my niece, you must understand, as all you women will grant,
that for a woman to hold a man long time in hand and let him call
her "sweeting" and "dear heart," and then clap a coxcomb above his
hood, I mean love another all this time,- she beguiles him and
shames herself. Now why tell I you all this? You wot yourself as
well as any that your love is fully granted to Troilus, the
worthiest knight of this world, and you have thereto plighted your
troth; so that, unless it were his fault, you should never be false to
him whilst you live. Now it stands thus: since I left you, Troilus, to
speak out flatly, has come in all this rain over a gutter by a
secret route into my chamber, quite unknown to everyone save to
myself, I swear by the faith I owe King Priam. And in such pain and
distress he has come that, unless by now he is quite mad, he must
speedily fall into madness, without God's help. And the cause why is
this,- he says he has been told by a friend that you are said to
love another, named Horastes, for sorrow at which this night is to
be the end of all for him!'
  Criseyde, when she heard all this strange talk, began to grow cold
about her heart, and answered straightway with a sigh, 'Alas, I
believed that, whoso told tales, my dear heart would not so lightly
hold me false! Alas for mistaken fancies, what harm they do! Now I
have lived too long! Horastes! And beguile Troilus! I know him not, so
God help me! Alas, what wicked spirit told such a thing? Now certes,
uncle, if I see him to-morrow, I will as fully acquit myself of that
as ever woman did, if he will have me. Oh God!' she sighed, 'how
worldly happiness, that clerks call false felicity, is mingled with
many a bitterness! God wot, the condition of vain prosperity is full
of anguish, for either joys come not together or else they will not
last. Oh fickle weal, and unstable earthly joy! With whatsoever
wight thou showest thee merry, either he knows thou art changeful or
knows it not; it must be one of the twain. Now if he knows it not, how
can he say that he has true joy and bliss, who is ever in the darkness
of ignorance? And if he knows that joy is fleeting, as every worldly
joy must needs be, then every time he remembers this, the dread of
losing joy keeps him from perfect happiness: and if he cares a
farthing to lose his joy, it must seem that joy is worth full
little. Wherefore I must conclude thus, that verily, for aught I can
see, there is no true weal here in this world. But ah jealousy, thou
wicked serpent, thou misbelieving envious folly, why hast thou made
Troilus distrust me, who never yet wittingly offended him?'
  'This matter has befallen thus,-' Pandarus began.
  'Why, uncle mine,' she cried, 'who told him such a thing? Alas!
why does my dear heart thus?'
  'You know, my niece, what it is,' said he. 'I hope all that is amiss
shall yet be well; you can quench all this if you will. And I
believe it is best that you do right so.'
  'So I will to-morrow, in truth, before God,' she said, 'so that it
shall suffice.'
  'To-morrow? Alas, that were a fair deed!' he replied. 'Nay, nay,
it may not stand so, for clerks write that peril goes with delay; nay,
such dallying is not worth a bean. There is a time for everything, I
dare avow. When a chamber or a hall is afire there is more need to
save it promptly than to dispute and ask about, "How did that candle
fall into the straw?" Ah, «benedicite!» in all this pother the harm is
done, and- farewell, fieldfare! And now, my niece, take this not
ill, but if you suffer him to be all night in this woe, so God help
me, you never loved him; here betwixt you and me alone I am bold to
say that. But I know well you will not do so, you are too wise to do
so great folly as to jeopardize his life all night.'
  'I never loved him? By heaven, I trow you never loved aught so
well,' said she.
  'By my thrift now,' quoth he, 'we shall see that. For since you make
this comparison with me, if I would see him all night in sorrow for
all the treasure in Troy-town I pray God I may never see happiness
again! Look now, if you that are his love put his life in jeopardy all
night for a thing of naught, by the God above us this delay comes
not only from folly but from malice, and that I swear to. What! I tell
you flatly, if you leave him in his pain it is neither a wise nor a
gentle deed!'
  'You may do one thing,' answered Criseyde, 'and therewith cure his
distress. Take this blue ring and bear it to him, for there is nothing
might better please him, save I myself, or more rest his heart. And
tell my dear heart that his grief is causeless, and that he shall
see to-morrow.'
  'A ring?' quoth he. 'Yea, the hazel-woods shake! Ah, niece, that
ring should have a stone that could make dead men live, and such a
ring I trow you have not! Discretion is gone clean out of your head,
that I can see, and more is the pity! Ah time lost, well thou mayst
curse sloth! Know you not that a noble and high heart neither
sorrows nor is calmed for a little thing? Were a fool in a jealous
rage, I should not care a farthing for his sorrow, but should
present him with a few soft words some day when I should chance to see
him. But this thing stands in quite another fashion. This man is so
noble and so tender of heart that he will wreak his sorrow on
himself by his own death, for trust well, however he may suffer, he
will speak no jealous word to you. And therefore before you break
his heart, niece, speak yourself to him of this matter, for with a
single word you can control his heart. Now I have told you his
peril, and his coming is unknown to everybody, and there can be no
harm or sin in it, perdy. I will be with you myself all the time.
You know how he is your own knight and that by rights you ought to
trust him; so I am all ready to fetch him when you say the word.'
  All this tale was so piteous to hear, and sounded at first thought
so like a truth, and Troilus her knight was so dear to her, that, what
with his privy coming and the security of the place, it is no wonder
she granted him such a favor, since she did all in innocence. 'So
God rest my soul,' she answered, 'as I am truly sorry for him! And
if heaven grant me grace, I fain would do the best I can. But in
faith, unless God send me better guidance, I am right at my wit's
end on the «pons asinorum,» whether you stay or go for him!'
  'Ah, niece, but listen,' quoth Pandarus; «'pons asinorum» is the
bridge of asses; it seems hard that asses will never learn for very
sloth and wilfulness. But this is only for those who are not worth two
peas in any case; you are wise, and know that this cause of mine is
neither hard, nor reasonable to withstand.'
  'Well, uncle,' she replied, 'do herein as you will. But before he
comes I will first arise; and for the love of God, since all my
trust is on you two prudent men, now manage so discreetly that I may
keep my fair name as well as he his happiness, for I am here in your
power.'
  'That is well said, dear niece,' he replied; 'blessings on that
wise, gentle heart! But lie still, you need not spring up for him;
receive him even here, and each of you for God's love relieve the
other's pain! And ah! Venus, I praise thee, for I hope soon we shall
be all merry.'
  Full soon Troilus was on his knees even at her bedside, and full
soberly in his best wise greeted his lady. But Lord! how red she waxed
all suddenly! Nor, though men would have cut her neck asunder, could
she have brought out a word, for his sudden coming. But Pandarus,
whose feeling was so quick in every case, began anon to make sport,
and said, 'Niece, see how this lord can kneel now to beg for your
troth! Only see this nobleman now!' And with that word he ran for a
cushion and said, 'Kneel now as long as you will! And may God soon
bring your hearts to rest!'
  If she let him kneel for a time, I cannot say whether sorrow made
her forget, or whether she took it as only due from her suitor; but
well I wot that she did him thus much pleasure, that she kissed him,
though she was sighing sore, and then bade him sit down.
  'Now you shall make a fair beginning,' quoth Pandarus. 'Now, good
dear niece, make him sit within there upon your bedside, that each may
hear the other better.' And at that he drew toward the fire, and
took a light and showed himself busy at looking over an old romance.
  Criseyde, who felt herself truly Troilus' lady and upon a clear
ground of sureness, thought her servant and knight should not have
fancied any falsity in her; yet nevertheless, considering his distress
and that greatness of love is one cause of such folly, she spoke
thus gently to him of his jealousy. 'Lo, my dear heart, it is the
excellent glory of love, against which no man can or ought to make
resistance, that drives me thus to take pity on your pain, and also
because I know your heart to be all mine, and I have felt well and
always seen your great fidelity and daily service and your constant
goodness; for which, my dear heart and own knight, I thank you as
far as my wit extends, though I cannot as much as were right. And to
the extent of my knowledge and power I ever have been, and shall be
whatever it may cost me, true to you and wholly yours with all my
heart, and doubt you not that the test shall find it so.
  'What this is all about, dear heart, I shall well say to you, so you
grieve not though I complain to you of yourself; for thereby I mean to
put a final end to the pain that holds your heart and mine in heavy
case, and to redress every wrong. My own good knight, I know not why
or how that wicked viper jealousy has crept into you so causelessly; I
fain would do away the harm which he has wrought. Alas that he, or a
piece of him, should make his haunt in so worthy a place, whence may
Jove soon tear him out! But O Jove, author of nature, is it an honor
to thy godhead that innocent folk suffer injury and he who is guilty
goes quit? Ah! were it lawful to complain against thee who
permittest undeserved jealousy, I should cry out on thee. And all my
woe is that now folk are wont to say, "Yea, jealousy is love," and
would excuse a bushel of venom because one grain of love is dropped
into it! But the great God in heaven knows if it be like love, or hate
or anger! And thereafter it ought to have its name.
  'But certain it is that one kind of jealousy is more to be excused
than another; as when there is cause, or when the jealous fantasy is
so well and duteously repressed that it scarce does or says aught
amiss, but generously consumes all its own distress. Such jealousy I
excuse for the nobleness of it. Some jealousy is so full of fury and
despite that it surmounts all repression. But you, dear heart, are not
in such case, as I thank God, wherefore this passion of yours I will
but call an illusion wrought by abundance of love and busy anxiety,
which causes your heart to endure this pain; for which I am right
sorry, but I am not wroth. But now, to clear me and rest your heart,
for the love of God let us test this suspicion, whether by ordeal or
by oath, by casting of lots, or in whatever wise you will! If I am
guilty, let me be slain! Alas, what more can I do or say?' With that a
few bright fresh tears fell from her eyes, and she cried, 'O God! Thou
knowest that never yet was Criseyde false to Troilus in act or
thought!' And then she laid her head down in the bed, covered it
with the sheet, sighing sore, and held her peace.
  But now may God help to quench this sorrow, and so I trust He
will, for He can best! I have often seen a full misty morrow follow
a merry summer's day, and again green May follows after winter. Ever
men see, and read in books, that after sharp conflicts come victories.
  When Troilus heard her words, trust me, he cared not to sleep! It
seemed to him no light chastisement to see his lady Criseyde's
tears, but indeed, for every tear that escaped her, he felt the
cramp of death creep and clutch him about the heart. In his mind he
began to curse the time that ever he came there, or ever was born, for
now was bad turned into worse, and all the labor which he had done
already he deemed but lost, and himself lost as well. 'Ah Pandarus,
alas!' he thought, 'your wiles serve for nothing, alack the day!' He
hung down his head and fell on his knees and sorrowfully sighed.
What could he say? He felt himself a dead man, for she was wroth who
only could lighten his sorrows. But nevertheless, when he was able
to speak, he faltered out, 'God knows that I am not to blame, when all
is known, for this pleasant sport!' And then grief so shut up his
heart that not a tear fell from his eyes; his spirits were so astonied
and oppressed that they crushed his strength, till sorrow and fear and
every feeling else faded away from him, and down he fell suddenly in a
swoon.
  It was no little sorrow to see this, but all remained quiet, for
in a trice Pandarus was up and whispering, 'Not a word, niece, or we
are lost! Be not afraid!' At last in spite of anything he cast him
upon the bed, saying, 'Thief, have you a man's heart?' and rent off
his mantle. 'Niece,' he said, 'unless you help now, your own Troilus
is lost.'
  'In faith,' she said, 'I would gladly if I but knew how,- alas
that I was born!'
  'Ah! my niece, if you would pull out the knife,' said he, 'that
sticks in his heart, say "All is forgiven," and all the trouble will
be over.'
  'Yea,' she answered, 'grant me that, and take all the rest the sun
goes round!' And thereat she vowed to him in his ear, 'Indeed, dear
heart, I am not wroth, I pledge my word,' and she swore many another
vow; 'now speak to me, for it is I, Criseyde.'
  Yet none the more did he come to. They began to rub his wrists and
the palms of his hands and to wet his temples; and to deliver him from
his bitter bonds she often kissed him, and in a word she did all she
could to revive him. At last he began to draw breath, and soon after
that to come out of his swoon, and memory and reason to dawn upon him.
When he was more fully awake, 'Oh mercy, God!' he cried, 'what is
this?'
  'This is pretty conduct!' quoth Criseyde. 'Is this a man's sport?
What, Troilus, for shame! Will you do thus?' Therewith she laid her
arm over him, oftentimes kissed him, and forgave him all. And he
thanked her, and relieved his heart by talking to her, and she
answered him, and with her goodly words diverted him, and comforted
his sorrows.
  Then said Pandarus, 'For aught I can see, neither I nor this
candle serve any purpose here. Light is not good for sick folks' eyes!
But now for the love of God, since you are brought into this goodly
plight, let no heavy thought be hanging in your two hearts!' And
then he carried his candle to the chimney.
  And then, when she had taken of Troilus such oaths as she wished,
though there were no need of them, she felt no fear or cause to bid
him rise. In some cases a less thing than an oath may be enough, for
every wight who truly loves means naught but what is noble. But she
wished to know of what man, and why, and on what occasion he felt this
jealousy, since there was no cause; and she bade him tell her
carefully the signs from which he conceived it, or otherwise certainly
she averred that this was of malice, to test her. In a word, he must
obey his lady's behest, and feign a cause to avoid a greater ill. He
told her, 'when she was out at such and such a festival she might at
last have looked at him,'- I know not what he said, somewhat not worth
a farthing, having to fish for an excuse.
  'Sweet, even were it so,' Criseyde answered, 'what harm was that,
since I meant no evil? For, by that God who made us both, my intent is
innocent in all things. Such talk is not worth a bean! Will you do
as the childish jealous lover? Now truly you deserve to be beaten!'
  Then Troilus began to sigh sorrowfully, and his heart died within
him lest she should be wroth, and he said, 'Alas, my sweetest heart
Criseyde, have mercy upon my sick fancies. If there be any wrong in
those words that I said, I will trespass no more; do what you list,
I hang on your grace!'
  'For guilt, mercy,' answered Criseyde. 'That is to say, I forgive it
all. And evermore you must remember this night, and be sure that you
offend no more!'
  'Nay, my dear heart, in truth,' quoth he.
  'And now,' she said, 'forgive me that I caused you pain, my own
sweet heart!'
  This faithful, loving Troilus, taken by surprise with the bliss of
it, put all in God's hand, as one who meant naught but good, and by
a sudden resolve caught her to him fast in his arms. And thereupon
Pandarus benevolently quitted them, saying, 'If you be prudent,
swoon no more now, lest more folk arise!'
  What can the poor lark do when the sparrow-hawk has her in his foot?
(-Though I tarry a year, some time I can do no less than follow mine
author in telling of their joy as well as in telling their
heaviness, whoever may find the tale sweet or sour!) Criseyde, as
clerks write in their old books, began to quake like an aspen-leaf,
when she felt him fold her in his arms. And Troilus, all whole after
his cold cares, began to thank the seven bright gods. And thus
sundry pains bring folk to paradise. So Troilus began to strain her in
his arms, and said, 'Oh sweet, as sure as I am alive now you are
caught! Now there is none but we two! Now yield you, for there is no
escape!' And to that Criseyde answered, 'Had I not before this yielded
myself, my sweet, dear heart, in truth I were not here now!'
  Ah, truly it is said, and men may ever see, that to be healed of a
fever or other great sickness men must drink full bitter drink; and to
win gladness men oft must swallow pain and great woe. And here we
see it, for this adventure after pain has won its cure. And now
sweetness seems more sweet because bitterness was tasted before. Out
of woe they are floating into bliss, such as they had never felt since
they were born. Is not this better than that both should be lost?
Let every woman take heed, for the love of heaven, to do thus when
need comes!
  Criseyde, all free now from dread and vexation, and with just
cause to trust him, now that she knew his faithfulness and honest
intent, made so much ado over him that it was a joy to see. As the
sweet woodbine with many a twist twines about a tree, each wound
arms about the other. And as the little abashed nightingale stops at
first when she begins to sing, if she hear any herdsman's voice or any
wight stirring in the hedge, and afterwards confidently lets her voice
ring out, so Criseyde, when her fear was over, opened her heart and
told all that was in it. And as a man who sees certain death before
him, for aught that he can tell, and by a sudden rescue escapes, and
out of death is brought into security, for all the world in even
such present gladness was Troilus with his lady dear.- God grant we
never meet with worse hap!- Thus he began to delight himself in this
heaven, and therewithal he kissed her a thousand times till he
scarce knew what to do for joy.
  'O Love, O Charity,' then he cried out, 'and thy mother, Cytherea
the sweet, next after thee be she praised, Venus the benignant planet!
And next I salute thee, Hymen! For never was man so beholden to you
gods as I, whom ye have brought out of my cold cares. Benign Love,
holy bond of all creatures, whoso would have grace and will not
honor thee, his desire attempts to fly without wings. All were lost,
unless thy grace passed our deserts, unless thou of thy
loving-kindness didst succor them that alway do for thee best labor
and service. Me that have least desert amongst all that are admitted
to thy grace, me thou hast helped where I was in point to die, and
hast bestowed me in so high a station that no bliss can go beyond
it. I can say no more, but reverence and laud be to thy kindness and
thy might!' And thereat he kissed Criseyde, at which in truth she felt
no discomfort!
  'Now would to God, my sweetest heart,' he began again, 'I knew how I
could please you! What man ever had so happy a lot as I, upon whom the
best and fairest that ever I saw has deigned to rest her heart! Here
men can see that mercy goes beyond justice. I am unworthy of you, lady
bright; but I pray you of your benignity to think that, though I be
unworthy, I must needs grow better in some wise through the virtue
of your high service. And for the love of God, dear lady, as He has
created me to serve you and wills that you should be my governor, to
let me live, if you will, or die, teach me how to deserve your thanks,
so that through my ignorance I may do naught to displease you. For
certes I dare swear, blooming perfect woman, that all my life you
shall find in me fidelity and devotion, and that I shall never break
your command; and if I do, present or absent, for the love of God
let me instantly be slain, if it so please your womanhood!'
  'On this is all my trust,' quoth she; 'gramercy indeed, my own
dear heart, my own heart's joy, my ground of comfort! But let us
forget all this, for we have said enough. And finally, in one word,
welcome, my knight, my peace, my sufficiency.'
  One of the least of their joys it were impossible for my wit to
tell. But ye who have been at such a feast of gladness, judge if
they were glad! I can say no more but that this time, betwixt dread
and security, these two felt the full worthiness of love. O blissful
time, sought of them so long, how blithe thou wert unto them both! Why
had I not bought such a time with my soul, yea, or the least joy
that was there! Away, thou foul fear and thou coy disdain, and leave
them dwelling in this heavenly bliss, which is so high that none can
tell it! But though I cannot tell all, as mine author can with his
goodly pen, yet, before God, I have ever told and shall tell the
main part of his words. And if, in reverence of love, I have added
in anything, do therewith as ye will. For all my words, here and
everywhere, I speak under your correction who have feeling in the
art of love, and commit them wholly to your discretion, to increase or
diminish what I have written; and to do so I beseech you.- But now
to my former narrative.
  These two that we left in each other's arms were so loath to go
asunder that it would have seemed violent ravishment; or rather this
was their chiefest fear, that all this might prove to have been a fond
dream. Wherefore full oft each of them said, 'Sweet, am I holding
you thus, or dream I it?' And Lord! with so goodly a look he gazed
upon her that his eyes never moved from her face. 'Oh dear heart!'
he said, 'can it be that you are really here?'
  'Yea, my own heart, God be thanked for His goodness,' said Criseyde,
and kissed him till for joy he knew not where his spirit was. Full
often he kissed her two eyes, and said, 'Oh bright eyes, it was ye
that wrought me this woe, ye humble nets of my dear lady! Though there
be mercy written in your looks, God knows the text is full hard to
read. How were ye able to bind me without cords?' And then once more
he would take her strongly in his arms, and would sigh a thousand
times; not such grievous sighs for woe, or when they are sick, but
gentle sighs, such as give ease and show the feeling within. Of such
sighs he could never heave enough.
  And then soon they fell to speaking of sundry matters which had to
do with their case, and in sport exchanged rings, of which I find
nothing more in my books. But I know well that Criseyde gave him a
brooch of gold and azure, in which was set a ruby like a heart, and
stuck it on his garment.
  Lord! Could a man believe that a covetous wretch, who blames love
and thinks scorn of it, was ever yet granted such delight from all the
pence that he can scratch together and hoard, as there is in one
moment of perfect love? Nay, so God save me, no niggard can have
such perfect joy. They will say yea, but Lord! how the anxious
wretches lie in their throats, full of woe and fear! They call love
a folly or madness, but it only befalls them to forego the wine of
life both white and red, and to live in woe; may God give them ill
chance, and promote every faithful lover! Would to God that these
wretches who despise the service of love had ears as long as
covetous Midas had, and had drunk as hot and strong a draught as
Crassus drank for his evil lusts, to teach them that covetousness is
sin, and love, for all that men hold it folly, is virtue!
  These two of whom I am telling you were talking joyously in full
trust of each other, and began to rehearse how and when and where each
first knew the other, and every woe and fear that was over. All that
heaviness, God be thanked, was turned to joy! When they came to
speak of any woe of times past, ever the tale would break off in
kissing and fall into a new joy; and since they were now one, they did
all their might to recover their bliss and be at rest, and to
countervail past woe with joy. Reason will not that I even speak of
sleep, for it accords not with my matter. God wot, they thought of
it full little! Lest this time so dear to them should in any wise
escape in vain, it was passed in all eager and noble joy.
  But soon the cock, the general time-keeper, began to flap on his
breast and crow, and Lucifer, messenger of day, began to rise and
throw out his beams, and eastward eke rose Jupiter for any man to see,
and then with sore heart Criseyde said to Troilus, 'Alas that I was
born, my heart's life, my trust, my joy! What woe that day must
sever us! For it is time for you to go hence, or else I am ruined
forever. Alas, night, why wilt thou not hover over us as long as
when Jove lay with Alcmena? O black night, that wast created by God,
as folk read in books, at certain times to hide this world with thy
black weeds, that thereunder men may rest them, well may beasts
complain and men chide thee, that when day is to break us with
labor, thou fleest thus away and deignest not to give us rest. Too
shortly thou dost thine office, thou hasty night! Because thou in
malice so hastest thee downwards, may God, author of nature, curse
thee and bind thee to our hemisphere so that nevermore thou shalt
revolve under the earth! For it is through thy rash hying out of
Troy that I have so soon foregone my heaven!'
  At those words Troilus seemed to feel bloody tears distill out of
his heart; never yet had he felt such heaviness to grow out of such
joy. He began to strain his lady dear in his arms, and said, 'Cruel
day, accuser of the happiness that love and night have stolen and
covered up, cursed be thy coming into Troy-town, for every little hole
has one of thy bright eyes! Envious day, why wilt spy so? What hast
thou lost? What seekest thou here? May God of His grace quench thy
light forever! Alas, pitiless day, how have lovers offended thee?
Thine be the pain of hell! Many a lover hast thou slain, and shalt
slay! Thou pourest in and lettest them nowhere rest. Why dost thou
proffer thy light here for sale? Go sell it to them that engrave
little seals. We wish thee not, we need thee not!'
  And he would chide Titan, the sun, and say, 'O fool, well may men
despise thee, that hast Aurora all night by thy side, and sufferest
her so soon to rise up from thee, thus to plague lovers! What! Keep
thy bed, thou and thy precious Morn! I pray God for ill luck to both
of you!'
  Then he sighed sore and said, 'My own lady, very root of my weal and
woe, goodly Criseyde, must I be gone too? Must I, alas? My heart
will burst in two! How shall I keep my life hour, since with you is
all the joy I have? What shall I do? I know not how or when I shall
see the time to be with you again thus. God wot how it will fare
with my life. Since longing for you even now so constrains me that I
am dead unless I return, how can I remain long away from you? But,
my own bright lady, if I knew utterly that your own servant and knight
were as firmly enclosed in your heart as you in mine (which were
more precious to me to know than to possess two such worlds as
this), I should the better endure my pain.'
  To this Criseyde answered with a sigh, 'Dear heart, in verity the
game has now gone so far that sooner shall Phoebus fall from his
sphere, and every eagle mate with the dove, and every rock move from
his place, than Troilus shall fade from Criseyde's heart! You are so
deeply graven upon my heart that, though I were to die upon the rack
and even though I wished to turn you from my thoughts, so God save me,
I could not! For the love of God who made us, let no other fancy creep
into your brain and cause me to die! I beseech you to have me as
fast in mind as I have you; if I verily knew that to be true, God
could not increase my happiness a jot. Dear heart, be true to me, or
else it were a rueful thing, for by heaven and by my troth I am yours!
Be glad therefore, and live in trust; this I never said before, nor
shall to another. If it were a great gladness to you to return after
you are gone, I were as fain as you that you should, as surely as I
hope for rest for my soul!' And then she took him in her arms and
kissed him often.
  Against his will, since it must needs be, Troilus rose up and
prepared to go, and a hundred times took his lady dear in his arms;
and sped on his way, saying in such voice as though his heart were
bleeding, 'Farewell, dear sweet heart, God grant us safe and soon to
meet!' To which she answered not a word for sorrow, so sore did
their parting pain her, and Troilus went to his own palace as
woe-begone, to say the truth, as she was.
  So hard wrung him the pain of sharp desire to be again in bliss that
it would not out of his remembrance. Returned to his royal palace,
he crept softly to his bed, to sleep long, as he was wont. But all for
naught; for all he lay and shut his eyes, sleep would not sink into
his heart, for thinking how she for whom desire burned him was worth a
thousand-fold more than he had believed. And in his mind he began to
revolve up and down every word and look of her, and firmly to
imprint in his thoughts even the least point of all that joy; and
truly, from the very remembrance, longing burned him all newly, and
the sweetness of love began to breed more than before, and yet there
was naught that he could do.
  Criseyde also, in the selfsame wise, was enclosing in her heart
the worthiness of Troilus, his lustiness, his prudent acts, his
nobility, and every point of their meeting; thanking Love that he
had bestowed her so well, and longing to have her dear love again in
such wise that she durst make him cheer.
  In the morning came Pandarus to his niece and greeted her fairly,
saying, 'All night long it rained so hard that, alas!, all my fear
is lest you had little chance for sleep and dreams, sweet niece! All
night the rain so kept me awake that some of us must have the
headache, I trow!' Then he came nearer and said, 'How is it now,
this bright morning? Niece, how do you fare?'
  'Never the better for you,' Criseyde answered, 'fox that you are,
bad luck to you! Before God, for all your innocent words it was you
caused all these doings. Ah, one who first sees you knows you full
little!' With that she covered her face with the sheet, and waxed
red for shame.
  Pandarus began to pry under it, and said, 'Niece, if I am to be
slain, here is a sword; smite off my head!' With that he thrust his
arm behind her neck, and at last kissed her.
  I pass over all that which it needs not say. What! God forgives
our sins, and she also forgave, and began to talk merrily with her
uncle, for she had nothing else against him save this. But to make
an end of this thing, when the time came she went home to her house.
So now Pandarus has wholly gained his purpose.
  Now let us turn again to Troilus, who lay full long a-bed
restless, and privily sent after Pandarus to come to him in all haste.
He came anon, full little did he refuse!, and greeted Troilus
gravely and sat down upon his bed's side. With all the emotion of
friendly love that heart can think of, Troilus fell on his knees
before Pandarus, and before he would arise from the spot he thanked
him earnestly a thousand times and blessed the day that Pandarus was
born to bring him out of his trouble. 'Ah friend best of all friends
that ever were,' he said, 'you have brought my soul to rest in
heaven out of Phlegethon, the fiery flood of hell. Though I could give
up my life a thousand times a day in your service, it would not
avail a jot to pay my debt. The sun which sees all the world saw never
yet, I dare stake my life, one so wholly fair and good as she whose
I am wholly and ever shall be till I die. And that I am hers thus,
thanks be to the high majesty of Love, and to your kind diligence!
It is no little thing that you have given me, wherefore my life is
your property forever. For it is through your help that I live, or
else I had been dead now many a day!' And with that word he laid him
down in his bed.
  Pandarus listened full gravely till he had said all, and then
answered, 'My dear friend, if I have done aught for you, God wot I
am glad, as glad as a man could be of it, so God help me. But,- take
not ill what I say,- for the love of God beware of this, that you
yourself should bring to an end the joy into which you are come. For
of all fortune's sharp adversities the worst is this,- for a man to
have been in weal and to remember it when it is gone. You are wise
enough, therefore make no error. Though now you sit warm and safe,
be not too rash; if you are, of a surety it will ruin you. Now you are
at ease; keep yourself well in hand therein. For as sure as fire
burns, it is as great a craft to keep as to gain. Bridle your speech
always, and your passions, for we hold to worldly joy but by a wire,
as we know well because it ever breaks so often. Therefore we must
needs be gentle with it!'
  'Before God, my dear friend,' quoth Troilus, 'I hope I shall so bear
me that naught shall be lost through my guilt; nor shall I ever be
so rash as to hurt her. We need not always take thought nicely about
this matter. If you knew my heart well, Pandarus, in faith you would
have small anxiety for this!'
  Then he began to tell him about that happy time, and how at first he
feared that he had angered her. And then, 'Friend, as I am a true
knight,' he said, 'and by the faith that I owe to God and to you, I
had it never half so hot as at this moment! And ever the more love
stings me, the more it delights me. I wot not certainly how it is, but
now I feel a new quality in my love, yea, quite another than I felt
before now.'
  'He that once has been in the joy of heaven,' answered Pandarus,
'I dare be sworn ever afterwards feels otherwise than when he first
heard tell of it.'
  To say all in one word, Troilus was never sated with speaking of
this thing, with praising to Pandarus the goodness of his own dear
lady and with thanking and making much of him. This talk was ever
new till night parted them.
  Soon after this, as Fortune would have it, came the blissful sweet
time when Troilus was forewarned that he should meet his lady again
where they met before, for which he felt his heart swim in joy, and
duly praised all the gods. Let us see now if he can be merry! The form
and manner of her coming, and of his, were observed as before, and
need not be described; in joy and security Pandarus brought the two
together when they would, and left them in quiet and peace. Now that
they are met you need not ask me if they are blithe. If it was well
before, it now was better a thousand-fold, I need not tell you; gone
was every sorrow and fear, each sought only to please the other, and
both had and knew they had as much joy as heart may contain. This is
no little thing to say, it passes every wit to describe. It is not
enough to call it that perfect felicity which these wise clerks so
commend. This joy cannot be written with ink; this passes all that
heart can conceive.
  But (alas the while!) they began to see the well-known signs of
day's approach, for which they seemed to feel death's wound. They
changed color for woe, and they began anew to revile day, calling it
envious, traitor, and more evil names, and bitterly cursing the
morning light. 'Alas!' quoth Troilus, 'now I see that Pyroeis and
the three other swift steeds that draw the sun's car have gone by some
short by-path in my despite, which makes it so soon day. And now
because the sun so hastens to be up, I will never again do sacrifice
to him!' But day needs must part them as before, and when their loving
talk and endearments were over, they set a time for another meeting.
  And many a time they did the same, and thus for a while Fortune left
in bliss Criseyde and the Trojan prince. So in contentment, bliss
and singing Troilus led his life. He spent, jousted, made festival, he
gave freely on all sides and wore many a gay garment, and ever kept
about him, as suited his estate, a world of folk the best and lustiest
that he could find; so that such a report of him for honor and
largesse spread throughout the world that it rang upwards to the
gate of heaven! And as to his love, he was in such gladness that in
his heart he deemed, I trow, that there was no lover in the world so
well at ease as he. The goodliness or charm which nature had placed in
any other lady could not untie so much as one knot of the net which
Criseyde had woven about his heart. It was so closely meshed and
knit that to undo it anywhere,- for aught that could betide that might
never be. Full often he would lead Pandarus by the hand into a garden,
and there make such a long and joyous tale of Criseyde and her
womanhood and beauty that it was heaven to hear his words; and then he
would sing, in this manner:-
  'Love, that hath the rule of earth and sea, Love that hath set his
behests in high heaven, Love, that with a saving bond holdeth the
peoples joined as he will, Love, that frameth laws for true friendship
and maketh wedded couples to dwell in virtue, may he make binding
the harmony of which I tell! That the world with eternal fidelity
holdeth his diverse times and seasons in concord; that the warring
elements observe an ever-during bond; that Phoebus must lead forth his
rosy day, and that the moon hath lordship over the nights,- all this
is caused by Love, ever praised be his power! The sea, ever greedy
to flow, constraineth his floods in a certain limit that they wax
not fiercely to drown the earth and all things for evermore. And if
Love ever relaxed his bridle, all that now loveth should leap asunder,
and all were lost that now Love holdeth together. And so would to God,
Who is the author of nature, that Love with his strong bond would
encircle all hearts and so fast tie them that none should know the way
out of his bondage! And to cold hearts I would that he should give a
wrench, to make them love and have pity on sore hearts and protect
them that be faithful.'
  In all that the siege demanded he was foremost, ever the first to be
clad in arms, and certainly, unless books err, most dreaded of any
wight save Hector. And this increase of hardihood came to him from
love, to gain his lady's thanks, which so changed the spirit within
him. In time of truce he would ride a-hawking or else hunt boar,
lion or bear (the small beasts he let go!). When he came riding back
to town, full often his lady, as fresh as falcon come out of the
mew, was ready at her window to give him a goodly salute. His talk was
most of love and virtue, and held all pitiful lowness in scorn, and
there was no need, I promise you, to beg him to honor the worthy and
relieve those in distress, and right glad he was when he heard that
any lover was faring well. For he held every wight but lost, to say
the sooth, unless he were in love's high service, I mean folk who
might well be so. And besides all this, so well could he talk of love,
and order his array so richly, that every lover thought all well
whatsoever he did or said. Though he were come of royal blood, yet
he never cared out of pride to gird at anyone; to each one he was
benign, which won him thanks on every side. Love (praised be his
grace!) made him flee pride and envy, ire and avarice, and every other
vice.
  Thou bright lady, daughter to Dione, and eke thy blind and winged
son Dan Cupid, ye nine sisters that by Helicon on the hill Parnassus
choose your abode, since ye must leave me now, I can say no more but
praised be ye forever, without end! Through you I have told in my song
fully the joyous course of Troilus' love, albeit there were some
distress mingled in it, as mine author chooses to describe. My third
book thus I now end, and leave Troilus in joy and peace with Criseyde,
his own dear heart.

                       «Explicit Liber Tercius.»


{BK4
                               Book IV

                             «Prohemium.»


  BUT all too little, alack the day!, lasts such joy; thanks to
Fortune, who ever seems truest when she will beguile, and to fools can
so attune her song that she catches and hoodwinks them, the common
traitress! And when a wight is thrown down from off her wheel, then
she laughs and grimaces upon him. From Troilus she began to turn
away her bright visage, and took no note of him, but clean cast him
out of his lady's grace and set up Diomed on her wheel. Wherefore my
heart begins to bleed even now, and my very pen to quake for fear of
what I must write; for the matter of my book must henceforth be how
Criseyde deserted Troilus, or at least how she was unkind, as folk
write who have handed down the story. Alas, that they should ever know
cause to speak ill of her, and if they slander her, in truth
themselves should have the ignominy! O ye Erinnyes, Night's three
daughters, that lament in endless torture, Megaera, Alecto,
Tisiphone,- and eke thou cruel Mars, father to Quirinus,- do ye help
me finish this fourth book, that in it be fully showed Troilus' loss
of life and love together.

                         «Explicit Prohemium.»

                        «Incipit Quartus Liber.»

  Whilst the strong Greeks were lying about Troy-town in a host, as
I have said before, and Phoebus was shining from the breast of
Hercules' Lion, it befell that Hector with full many a bold baron
planned to fight with the Greeks, as he was wont, to do them what harm
he could. I know not how long it was betwixt the taking this purpose
and the day they meant to sally forth; but upon a day Hector and
many a worthy wight issued through the gates in armor bright and fair,
with spear in hand and big bows bent, and anon their foemen met them
beard to beard in the field. With spears ground sharp, with arrows,
darts, swords and fell maces they fought all the day long, and brought
horse and man to the ground, and with their axes dashed out brains.
But the last assault, to confess the truth, the folk of Troy conducted
so ill that they had the worse and fled homewards at night. On which
day Antenor was taken prisoner, in spite of the prowess of Polydamas
or Mnestheus, Xanthippus, Sarpedon, Polymnestor, Polytes, or the
Trojan Sir Riphaeus, and such other lesser folk as Phoebuseus; so that
for that blow the folk of Troy dreaded in great part to lose their
safety. But nevertheless at their urgent asking a truce was made,
and they began to treat for making an exchange of prisoners, and,
for the overplus which the Greeks had, gave large sums; and anon
this plan was known in every street in town, and also in the camp, and
amongst the first it reached Calchas' ear. When he had learned that
this treating was to be carried through, he went and pressed into
the consistory amongst the old Greek lords and sat him down where he
was wont; and with a changed face begged a boon, and that for the love
of God they should do him so much reverence as to cease from noise and
give him a hearing.
  'Lo, my lords,' then he said, 'I was once a Trojan, as it is
doubtless known; and, if you so remember, I am Calchas, who first of
all gave you comfort when you needed it, and informed you well how you
should prosper. For doubt you not that after a season through your
means Troy shall be burnt and beaten down to the ground. And in what
manner you are to destroy this town and achieve all your will you have
ere this heard me describe. This you wot, my lords, I trow. And
because the Greeks were so dear to me, to teach you how in this case
you were best do, I came myself in my proper person, having no
regard to my treasure or my income, in comparison with your
well-being. Thus I left all my goods and came to you, my lords,
deeming in this I should please you. All this loss brings me no
regret; I am willing, as I hoped to be saved, for your sake to lose
all that I will have in Troy,- save a daughter whom I left at home
asleep, alas!, when I fled out of the town. Cruel and harsh father
that I was, how could I have had so hard a heart? Alas that I
brought her not in her shift! For sorrow of this I will not live
till to-morrow, unless you lords have pity on me. For because ere
now I saw no way to deliver her, I have held my peace; but now, or
never, I may have her right soon if it please you. Grant me help and
grace! Amongst all this throng may some have compassion on this old
caitiff in trouble, since it is for you that I have all this
heaviness! You have now Trojans enough fettered in prison, and, if
it be your will, my child may now be redeemed by one of them. Now
for the love of God and of generosity, alas!, grant me one out of so
many. What need to refuse this prayer, since you shall shortly have
both town and people? On peril of my life, I lie not; Apollo has
told it me faithfully, and I have also found it in the stars, and by
divination and augury, and I dare to say that the time is hard at hand
when fire and flame shall spread over all the town, and thus shall
Troy turn to cold ashes. For it is certain that Phoebus and Neptune,
who made the walls of the town, are so wroth with the folk of Troy
that they will bring it to ruin even for anger with King Laomedon;
because he would not pay them their hire, the town shall yet be put in
flames.'
  As this grey old man was telling his tale, humble in his speech
and looks, the salt tears ran fast over his two cheeks. So long he
begged them for succor that, to relieve his bitter sighs, they granted
him Antenor without more pause. And who was glad but Calchas then! And
full soon he laid his charges on them who should go on the embassy,
and earnestly prayed them to bring back in return for Antenor King
Thoas and Criseyde; and when King Priam had granted his
safe-conduct, the embassadors went straight to Troy.
  When the cause of their coming bad been told, the aged King Priam
summoned thereupon his whole parliament, whose decision was that the
exchange of prisoners and all the requests pleased them well, and
thereupon the embassadors proceeded inward.
  Troilus was present when Criseyde was asked in place of Antenor, and
wellnigh died to hear the words. His face changed full soon, but
lest men should spy his feeling, he said not a word and with manly
heart kept his sorrow under. Full of anguish and grisly fear he
awaited what other lords should say. If they should grant the exchange
of her (which God forbid!), then he thought of two things,- first to
save her honor and then how best he might withstand the exchange. Full
diligently he considered it. Love made him all eager to keep her and
rather to die than let her go, but on the other side Reason said to
him, 'Do not so without her assent, lest, if you resist it, she should
become your enemy, and say that through your meddling your loves are
blown abroad which before were unknown.' Wherefore he thought it
best that, even though the lords would that she should go, he would
let them decide as they wished, and tell it his lady first; and when
she had told him her wish, then he would fall speedily to work, though
all the world should strive against it.
  Hector, when he heard how the Greeks would have Criseyde for
Antenor, resisted it and answered gravely, 'Sirs, she is no
prisoner. I wot not who laid this charge upon you, but for my part you
may say to them straightway that we are not wont here to have women
for sale.'
  An outcry straightway then arose as violent as the blaze of straw
set a-fire; for their evil fortune would have it so that the Trojans
demanded the cause of their own ruin. 'Hector,' they cried, 'what
ill ghost inspires you thus to shield this woman and cause us to
lose Antenor, so wise and bold a baron? You choose a wrong course.
He is one of the greatest of our townsmen, and anyone may see we
have need of folk. Hector, let be such fancies. King Priam,' they
cried, 'we say this, that all our voice is to give up Criseyde and
to deliver Antenor.'
  Ah Lord Juvenal, true are thy sage words, that folk so little know
what is to be desired that full often they find their ruin thus,
blinded to their true advantage by the cloud of error. And lo here
an ensample ready! This folk desires now to deliver Antenor, who
brought them to mischance; for he was afterwards traitor to the town
of Troy. Alas, they let free him too early; foolish world, behold
thy discernment! Criseyde, who never did them harm, shall no longer
bathe in bliss. Antenor shall come home, and she shall out, so
everyone demanded. So the parliament pronounced that Criseyde should
be yielded up for Antenor, and it was decreed by the president. Though
Hector full often prayed against it, and whatever wight withstood
it, all was for naught; it must and should be, for the larger part
of the parliament would have it so.
  When the assembly had broken up, Troilus without a word sped to
his chamber, all alone save for a man or two of his, whom he bade
hie them out, for he would sleep, as he told them. And then he laid
him upon his bed. As in winter the leaves drop away one by one till
the tree is naked and naught but branch and bark, so lay Troilus
bereft of all his welfare, bound in the black bark of misery, ready to
start out of his wits, so sorely oppressed him the exchanging of
Criseyde. This sorrowful man rose up and shut every door and window
and then sat him down upon his bed's side, like a dead wan image. Then
the woe heaped up in his breast began to burst out, and he in his
frenzy to fare as the wild bull when he is pierced to the heart, and
plunges hither and thither and roars aloud in lament of his death.
So Troilus flung himself about the chamber, ever smiting his breast
violently with his fists, and beating his head upon the wall and his
body on the ground to kill himself. His two eyes streamed out like two
swift springs. His loud sobs so bereft him of speech that he scarce
could say, 'O death, alas! why wilt thou not take me! Cursed be the
day when Nature framed me to be a living creature!'
  But when the fury which twisted and oppressed his heart by length of
time began somewhat to assuage, he laid him down to rest on his bed.
But then began his tears to burst out yet more, till it is wonder that
a man's body could hold out against half this grieving. Then he said
thus, 'Alas the day! Fortune, what have I done, what is my guilt?
How hadst thou heart to beguile me so? Is there no grace, must I
perish? Must Criseyde away? How canst thou find it in thy heart to
be so cruel to me? Have I not honored thee all my life above all the
gods, as thou well knowest? Why wilt thou take my joy from me?
Troilus, what may men call thee now but the wretch of wretches, fallen
from glory into misery, where I will lament Criseyde till breath fails
me? Alack, Fortune! If my joyous life displeased thy foul envy, why
didst not slay my father the king or my brethren or myself,- me,
cumber-world, useless, ever dying yet never dead? If Criseyde alone
were left me, I should not care whither thou didst steer. Yet it is
she thou hast robbed me of. Yet this is evermore thy way, to bereave a
wight of what is dearest to him, thus to prove thy capricious
violence. Thus am I lost beyond remedy. O Love, O true lord! Thou
knowest best my heart and thoughts. Alas, O God! How shall my
sorrowful life fare if I forego what I have bought so dearly? Since
thou hast brought Criseyde and me fully into thy grace, and sealed
both our hearts with thy seal, how canst thou suffer it to be
annulled? What shall I do? As long as I can last alive, I will
bewail this cursed fortune in torment and cruel pangs, as solitary
as I was born. Never will I see it rain or shine, but I will end my
woful life, like Oedipus, in darkness.
  'Ah, my weary spirit, that flickerest to and fro, why wilt not fly
out of the wofullest body that ever walked on ground! Soul, lurking in
this woe, unnest thee; fly from my heart and let it burst, and
follow ever thy lady; thy rightful place is no longer here. Woful
eyes, since your pleasure was all to see Criseyde's shining eyes, what
shall ye do now but lie vainly still and weep out your sight? Since
she is quenched that was wont to illumine you, in vain from this
time forth have I two eyes, since your virtue is gone. O my
Criseyde, sovereign lady of that woful soul that cries thus, who shall
now give me comfort? When my heart is dead, receive in kindness the
spirit that hastens to thee, for it shall ever be thy servant.
Therefore no matter though the body may die! Lovers, that are set high
upon the wheel of Fortune in good estate, God grant that ye ever
find love of steel, and long may your life endure in joy! But when
ye pass my sepulchre, remember your fellow rests there, for I,
though unworthy, loved too. Unwholesome ill-living old man, Calchas
I mean, alas! what ailed thee to become a Greek, since thou wast
born Trojan? Calchas, that wilt be my bane, thou wast born in cursed
hour for me! Would to blessed Jove that I once had thee where I
would in Troy!'
  A thousand sighs, hotter than coals, passed one after another out of
his breast, mingled with the plaints which ever fed his woe and with
his never-ceasing tears. In a word, his pains so racked him, and he
grew so weak, that he felt at last neither joy nor suffering, but
lay in a trance.
  Pandarus, who had heard at the parliament what every lord and
burgess said, and how the exchange had been decreed with one voice,
began wellnigh to go out of his wits. Scarce knowing what he did, he
rushed to Troilus. A knight, who at the time was keeping the chamber
door, undid it anon, and Pandarus went softly into the dark chamber
toward the bed, tenderly weeping and so dazed that he knew not what to
say. With his face all drawn and arms folded he stood before Troilus
and looked on his piteous face. But Lord! how chilled grew his heart
to see his friend in woe! When Troilus was aware of his friend, he
began to melt as the snow before the sun, for which Pandarus wept as
tenderly as he; and for a space the two were speechless, and could not
say one word for grief.
  But at last Troilus, nigh dead for suffering, burst out in a
groan, and said in a husky voice amid his sighs and sobs, 'Pandarus, I
am dead without remedy. Heard you not at the parliament how my
Criseyde is lost for Antenor?'
  Pandarus, deadly pale, answered piteously, 'Yea, I know all how it
is. Would it were as false as it is true! Merciful heaven, who would
have believed it! Who would have believed that in so short a time
Fortune would have overthrown our joy! For I deem that in this world
there is no creature that ever saw stranger ruin wrought by chance
than this. But who can divine all or eschew all? Such is the world!
Wherefore my conclusion is,- let no wight trust to gain from Fortune
peculiar favor, for her gifts are common.
  'But tell me, why are you so mad as to sorrow thus? Why lie you
so, since you have already had all your desire, have had your
portion from Fortune? But I, that never in all my loves felt one
friendly look or glance,- let me wail and weep thus till I die! And
besides this, as you know well yourself, this town is full of
ladies, and a fairer than ten such as she ever was, I trow, I shall
find in some company, yea, one or two, without any doubt. Therefore be
glad, dear friend; if she be lost, we shall find another! What! God
forbid that all pleasure should be in one thing only and in none else!
If one can sing, another can dance well; if one be goodly, another
is merry and lightsome; and this one is fair and that one demeans
her well. Each thing is prized for its peculiar virtue, this falcon
for heron and that one for waterfowl. "The new love oft drives out the
old," as writes Zeuxis, who was full wise. A fresh plight will have
a fresh plan. Think too that you are bound to preserve your own
life. Such a fire as yours must by nature grow cool in time, for since
it is but chance pleasure, some chance will put it out of your
remembrance. For as sure as day follows night, a new love, or labor or
other trouble, or else seldom seeing, the beloved one, causes old
affections to pass away. As for you, one of these you will have, to
shorten your sharp and bitter pains; her absence will drive her out of
your heart!'
  These words he said only to help his friend, lest he should die
for sorrow, and assuredly, so he stanched his woe, he recked not
what sorry stuff he spoke. But Troilus gave little heed to it all. One
ear heard it, and it went out at the other. But at last he answered,
and said, 'Friend, this leechcraft, and to be healed thus, were very
well if I were such a fiend as to betray her who is true to me. But
I pray God, to the Devil with such counsel! May I die at once on
this spot, ere I do as you would have me! She whom I serve, to whom my
heart is given of right, shall have me as wholly hers till I die,
whatsoever you say. What, Pandarus! Since I have promised her, I
will be false to please no one, but as her man I will live and die,
and never serve another creature. And when you say you will find
another as fair as she,- let be, compare her not with any being formed
here by nature. O my dear Pandarus, once and have done! You shall
never convince me with all this. Therefore I beg you hold your peace,-
you slay me with your words. You bid me let Criseyde go, and get me
another fresh new love. It lies not in my power, dear friend, and
though I could I would not. And if you can play at rackets with love
to and fro, handy-dandy, now this, now that, then foul befall her that
cares for your woe! You do by me, you Pandarus!, as one who comes
a-walking to a man in pain and says, "Think not of pain and you
shall feel none!" You must first transmute me into a rock and take
from me all my passions, before you can so lightly take my woe from
me. So long this sorrow may delve and sap under my breast that death
may well take my life from it. But Criseyde's arrow will nevermore out
of my soul, and when I am dead I will go dwell in pains with
Proserpine, and there I will eternally lament this woe, and how we two
are parted. And then you made here an argument how it should be a less
pain to forego Criseyde because she has truly been mine and we were
together in ease and felicity. Why prate you so, who once said to
me, "It is worse for him who is thrown out of weal than if he had
never known that weal"? But tell me this: since it seems to you so
light a thing to change ever to and fro in love, why have you not done
your best to exchange her who has caused all your trouble? Why not let
her slip out of your heart? Why not love another sweet lady, who may
set your heart at ease? If you have ever had misadventure in love, yet
cannot drive it from your heart, I who have lived in lustiness and joy
as much as any man alive, how should I forget it, and that so soon?
Where have you been cloistered so long, who argue with such formal
logic? Nay, Pandarus, all your counsel is nothing worth, and
finally, in spite of anything, I am doomed to death. Ah death, that
art ender of every grief! come now, since I have called thee so often;
for kindly is death when, often called, he comes and ends pain. Well I
know that, whilst I lived in peace, I would have paid hire ere death
should slay me; but now his coming is so sweet that naught on earth
I long after more. O death, do thou either quench with thy cold stroke
this heat of sorrow, or else drown me anon in tears. Thou ever slayest
so many in divers manners, unsummoned, against their will, do me
this service at my prayer. Deliver the world now of the wofullest
wight that ever was, for it is time that I die who am useless in the
world!'
  And then Troilus distilled in tears like liquor out of an alembic.
Pandarus held his peace and cast his eyes upon the ground; but at last
he thought, 'What, perdy! Rather than my comrade die I will say
somewhat more to him!- Friend,' he began, 'since you are in such heavy
case, yet are pleased to blame my arguments, why not gain redress
yourself and by your own manhood stop all this vexation? Can you not
carry her off? Shame on you! Either hold her here, or let her go and
leave this foolish grief. Are you in Troy, yet have no hardihood to
seize upon a woman who loves you and will herself be on your side? Now
what a light-minded folly! Rise up and let be your weeping and show
you are a man. Within this hour I will be dead or she shall remain
with us!'
  To this answered Troilus gently, 'Dear brother, of all this I myself
have oft thought, and of more yet. But why it cannot be you shall
hear; and when you have given me a hearing, then you may say all
your mind. First, since the town has all this war for the violent
ravishing of women, as you know, I should never be suffered to do so
great a wrong. I should also be blamed of every wight if I so resisted
my father's decree, since she is exchanged for the town's good. I have
thought also, so she would assent, to ask her of my father's grace;
then I thought, this were to accuse her, and to no purpose, since I
know well I cannot gain her thus. For since my father has sealed her
exchange in so high a place as parliament, he will not take back his
word for me. Most of all I dread to trouble her heart by violent
acts if I do such a thing; if I should do it openly, it must be
slander to her reputation, and I would rather die than defame her. God
forbid that I should not hold her honor dearer than my life! Thus
for aught that I can see, I am lost; for certainly, being her
knight, I must hold her honor dearer than myself in every case. Thus I
am pulled betwixt desire and reason; desire counsels me to trouble
her, and reason and dread will not.' So, weeping as if he could
never leave off, he said, 'Alas, how shall wretched I fare! I feel
my love and the causes of my woe ever increase, Pandarus, and hope
is ever less and less. Alack and alack! why will my heart not burst?
In love is little heart's ease!'
  'Brother, for all me,' quoth Pandarus, 'you may do as you will.
But if I had it so hot, and were of your rank, she should go with
me. Though all the town cried out on this thing in chorus, I should
not care a groat for the noise. When men have shouted well, then let
them whisper, for a wonder lasts never in town but nine nights!
Consider not reasons so deeply and superfinely, but straightway help
yourself. It is better that others weep than yourself, and most of all
since you two are become one. Be found a little to blame rather than
die here like a gnat, without any hurt. Rise up,- by my head, she
shall not go! It is no ravishment nor a sin, in my mind, to detain her
who loves you most of all. Peradventure she may hold you for a fool,
thus to let her go to the Greek camp. Consider also, as you well know,

            "That Fortune helps the hardy in's emprise,
             And flees from wretches for their cowardice."

  Though your lady might be a little vexed, hereafter full well you
shall make your peace, but as for me I truly cannot believe that
even now she could take it ill. Why then should your heart quake in
fear? Think how Paris your brother has his love; then why should not
you have yours?
  'And, Troilus, one thing I dare swear to you. If Criseyde your
beloved loves you as well as you love her, before God she will not
take it ill though you bring remedy to this mischief. And if she is
willing to pass forth from you, then she is false; so love her the
less! Therefore take knightly heart, and think that for love every law
is broken every day. Show now somewhat your courage and strength. Fear
not, but have mercy on yourself. Let not this wretched woe gnaw upon
your heart, but stake the world manly on the cast of the dice, and
if you die as a martyr, go to heaven! I will stand by you myself in
this act, though I and all my kin at once should lie in the street
like dead dogs, stricken through with many a wide, bloody wound. In
every case you shall find me a friend. But if you wish to die here
like a wretch, adieu, and the Devil have him who cares!'
  At these words Troilus began to come to life. 'Gramercy, friend,' he
said, 'I agree. But, in truth and finally, though I should die
otherwise, you cannot so spur me, nor pain so torment me, that I
should plan to ravish her unless she herself wills it.'
  'Be that as it may be,' answered Pandarus. 'But tell me then, you
that have been grieving so, have you sounded her wishes?'
  'Nay,' answered he.
  'Whence this dismay then,' quoth Pandarus, 'when you know not that
she will be ill-pleased to be carried off, since you have not been
with her? Has some angel whispered it in your ear? Rise up, then, as
if nothing were amiss, wash your face and go to the king, or he may
wonder why you are thus absent. You must by your prudence hoodwink him
and the rest, or perchance he may send after you ere you are aware. In
a word, dear brother, be of good cheer and let me work in this affair.
For I shall so shape it that somehow and sometime this night you shall
come to privy speech with your lady, and by her words and by her looks
you shall full soon learn all her mind, and what is best to do. And
now farewell, for on this I rest.'
  The swift Rumor, which reports things false and true equally, was
flown on ready wing through Troy from man to man, ever freshly telling
this tale, how Calchas' bright-faced daughter was to be exchanged
for Antenor by decree of parliament. Which tale as soon as Criseyde
had heard, caring nothing for her father at such a time, nor whether
he lived or died, she heartily prayed Jupiter confound him who brought
such a report! Anon she began to fear to ask any wight about it,
lest it might be true, for all her heart and mind she had so utterly
given to Troilus that all this world could not loosen her love nor
cast him out of her heart, but she must be his as long as life
should last. Thus she was so burning betwixt love and fear that she
knew not what to do.
  But as men see in towns everywhere that women will ever be
a-visiting their friends, so a flock of women began to come to
Criseyde, thinking to please her, and sat them down with their
pathetic joy and with their prating.
  Said one first, 'I am truly glad for your sake, who are going to see
your father.'
  'In truth,' said another, 'so am not I, for it is too short a time
that she has been with us.'
  'I hope,' quoth the third, 'that she will bring in peace on both
sides, and may God almighty conduct her when she goes!'
  All this woman-like talk she heard no more than as if she were in
another place. All the while, though her body sat amongst them, God
wot her attention and her heart were elsewhere. Her soul was roaming
after Troilus, and without a word she thought of him. And these women,
thinking to please her, went on pouring out their tales about nothing.
Such trivial things could bring no comfort to her who meanwhile was on
fire with quite another feeling than they supposed; so that she felt
her heart almost die within her for woe and for weariness of that
company. Wherefore no longer could she restrain her welling tears,
which gave signs of the bitter pain of her spirit, when she remembered
from what heaven into what hell she was fallen, now that she must
forego the sight of Troilus. When they heard her bitter sighs, those
foolish women sitting about her supposed that she wept because she
must leave that company, and never chat again with them that she had
known so long. So when they saw her weep, they thought it kindness;
and each of them began to weep too. Eagerly they began to comfort
her for a thing of which, God wot!, she recked full little, and
thought to divert her with their words and oft begged her to be of
good cheer. Even so much comfort they wrought her therewith as a man
is eased for an aching head by clawing him on the heel! And after
all this empty folly they all took leave and went home.
  Criseyde, full of piteous sorrow, went up out of the hall into her
chamber and fell on her couch nigh dead, in full purpose never to rise
thence; and she began to demean her as I shall tell you. The salt
tears from her two eyes ran out as a shower in April. She beat her
white breast, cried a thousand times after death, and held herself for
a lost creature, because she must forego him who alone was wont to
lighten her woe. She tore her wavy hair of sunnish hue, full often
wrung her long and slender fingers, and prayed God of His mercy to
cure her ills by death. Her pale hue, once so bright, bore witness
of her woe and stress, and thus she spoke sobbing:
  'Alas! woeful wretch, luckless being, born under a cursed
constellation, I must go from this place and part from my knight.
Woe worth that day when I first saw him with my two eyes, and above
all else woe worth that evening; which cause me, as I him, all this
pain! What will he do? What shall I do, how shall I live if I part
from him? Dear heart that I love so, who shall do away the sorrow that
thou art in now? O father Calchas, be this crime at thy door, and
cursed be the day when Argiva bore me of her body to be a living soul!
To what purpose live I in such sorrow? What is Criseyde worth apart
from Troilus? How should a fish last without water, or a plant or
other creature without its natural food? Wherefore full oft I have
heard the byword, "Earthless, green things soon die." Thus I shall do:
since I dare not handle sword or dart, for their cruelty, from that
day I leave thee (if the sorrow of that kill me not) no meat or
drink shall come in me, till my soul is unsheathed out of my breast,
and thus I shall slay myself. And Troilus, all my vesture shall be
black, in token that I who was wont to possess thee in peace, dear
heart, am as one withdrawn from worldly life; and till death meet
me, my convent-rules shall ever be sorrow, lament and abstinence. I
bequeathe my heart and the woful ghost therein to complain eternally
with thy spirit, for they shall never part. Though on earth we two
be parted, yet in those compassionate fields where Pluto reigns, and
where is no torment, shall we be together, as Orpheus is with Eurydice
his mate. Alas, dear heart, thus for Antenor I shall soon be given up!
But how shalt thou fare in this woful case,- how shall thy tender
heart support it? Forget this sorrow, my love, and me also; for in
sooth, so thou farest well, I care not that I die!'
  How could the plaints that she made in her distress ever be all read
or sung? I wot not, and, as for me, if I could describe all her grief,
my little pen should make it seem less than it was and childishly
deface her noble sorrow. Therefore I pass it by.
  Ye have heard me tell how it was agreed that Pandarus should be sent
from Troilus to Criseyde; and so he came full secretly to tell his
message, where she lay in torment and in frenzy, and using herself
in piteous wise. He found her breast and face bathed full wet with her
salt tears, her mighty tresses unbraided and her sunnish hair
hanging all about her ears, which gave him a true sign of the
torment of death that she was longing for. When she saw him, she began
for shame to hide her tearful face in her arms, at which Pandarus
was so woe-begone and so steeped in pity that he scarce could remain
in the chamber. For if at first she had wailed bitterly, now she began
to wail a thousand times more.
  'Mine uncle Pandarus,' she began, betwixt her sobs, 'was the great
first cause of many a joy to me, which is now transmuted into cruel
woe. Am I now to welcome you or not, who first brought me into the
service of love which, alas! is ending thus? Ends love, then, in
woe? Yea, or men lie, and so does every earthly joy, methinks.
Sorrow ever occupies the end of bliss, and whoso believes it not let
him look on me, woful wretch, that hate myself and curse my birth,
feeling myself pass from grief to desperation. Whoso sees me, sees
at once sorrow and pain, torment, lament and woe; there is no harm
lacking to my woful body,- anguish, cruel bitterness, languor,
annoy, smart, dread, fury and sickness. I trow verily tears rain
down from heaven in pity of my bitter suffering.'
  'You my distressful sister,' quoth Pandarus, 'what think you to
do? Have you no regard for yourself? Why will you destroy yourself,
alas! Leave all this sorry work and take heed to what I shall say, and
hearken meekly to the message which I bring from your Troilus!'
  Criseyde turned her then, making such lament that it was death to
behold. 'Alas! what words,' quoth she, 'can you bring? What can my
dear heart say, whom I fear nevermore to see? Will he have a shower of
tears from me before I go? I have enough, if it is that he sends
after!'
  She was such to look upon in her visage as one swathed and carried
on a bier. Her face, once the image of Paradise, was now changed
into quite another sort; the sportiveness, the laughter and every
other joyous trait that men were wont to find in her were all fled,
she lay deserted by them all. Her two eyes were encircled by purple
rings, in true tokening of her pain, so that it was a deathly sight to
behold. Wherefore Pandarus could not restrain his tears from pouring
down. But nevertheless as best he could he repeated the message of
Troilus.
  'Niece, I trow well you have heard how the king with other lords
have thought it best to make an exchange of Antenor and you, which
is the cause of all our disquiet and woe. How this thing pains Troilus
no man's tongue on earth can tell, for his final resolve is to die.
Wherefore we have so grieved, he and I, that it has wellnigh slain
us both, but through my counsel he has at last somewhat given over his
tears; and I believe he would fain be with you this night, to devise a
remedy in this, if there might be any. This, in short and plain, is
the substance of my message as my wit can best express it, for you who
are in such a frenzy of torment can attend to no long preamble. So
hereto you may return an answer;- and for the love of God, dear niece,
leave this woe ere Troilus come!'
  'My woe is great enough,' said she, and sighed sorely as one in
deadly sharp distress, 'and yet to me his sorrow is much worse, who
love him better than he loves himself, I trow. Alas! has he such
heaviness for me, complains he so piteously for me? Now truly his
sorrow doubles mine! God wot it is grievous to me to part, but yet
harder it is to see him in such woe. Well I wot it will be my bane,
and die I truly will!- But bid him come,' she cried, 'before death
that threatens me now drive out the spirit which flutters in my
heart.' And with these words she fell prone on her two arms, and began
to weep piteously.
  'Alas!' said Pandarus; 'why do you thus when you know the time is
hard by when he shall come? Rise up quietly, that he find you not thus
tear-stained, unless you would have him fly out of his mind; for if he
knew that you fare thus, he would kill himself, and if I expected
all this gear, he should not come hither for all the wealth of
Priam, for what purpose he would straightway form I know full well.
Therefore I say again, let be this sorrow, or, flatly, he will die;
and plan to diminish and not increase his sorrow, dear sweet niece.
Heal him, wound him not more; by some prudent plan cure his sorrow.
What boots it to weep a street-full, or for you both to drown in
salt tears? A time of cure is ever better than a time of lament.
This is what I mean: when I bring him hither, do you two wise ones
with one accord devise how to upset this exchange, or for you to
come again straightway after you have gone. Women are cunning at hasty
planning. Let see how your wit shall serve you, and what I can do to
help shall not be wanting!'
  'Go,' quoth she, 'and truly, uncle, I will do my best to refrain
my tears in his sight, and to cheer him I shall do all my best and
search every nook of my heart. If salve may be found for this sore, it
shall not be wanting through my fault, I promise you.'
  Pandarus departed and sought for Troilus, till he found him all
alone in a temple, caring no longer for life. He was making moan and
praying full tenderly to each of the pitiful gods to let him pass soon
out of the world. That there was no other favor for him he thought
full well, and (to say it all in few words) he was so fallen in
despair that he was utterly resolved to die. For thus was ever his
argument;- he said, 'I am utterly lost, alack the while! For all
things that hap, come by necessity; thus it is my destiny to be
lost. For certainly I wot well that divine Providence has ever
foreseen that I should lose Criseyde; since there is no doubt that God
foresees all things, and ordains and disposes them to be as they
have deserved to be.
  'But nevertheless whom shall I believe, alas! For though there be
many a great clerk that proves foreordination by arguments, some men
say that naught comes of necessity; but that free choice is granted
every one of us. Alackaday! So cunning are ancient clerks I know not
whose opinion to hold. For some men say, if God foresees
everything,- and God cannot be deceived, perdy!- then that must
befall, though men had sworn it should not, which Providence has
foreseen. Wherefore I say that, if from eternity He has known our
thoughts and deeds, then even as these clerks declare we have no
free choice. For other thoughts or deeds could never come to pass
but such as infallible Providence has all-wisely foreseen. For if
there might be a chance to twist our way out from God's foreknowledge,
then there were no prescience in God, but rather only an uncertain
expectation; and certes it were blasphemy to believe that God has no
more perfect and clear knowledge than we men, who have doubtful
conjecturings. But it were false and foul and wicked cursedness to
fancy in God such a possibility of erring.
  'Also this is an opinion of some whose crowns are shorn full high
and smooth, that things come not because Providence has foreseen
them but that because things are to come, therefore Providence
all-wisely foresees them. Therefore in this opinion the necessity
passes in the opposite direction. For the necessity is not that what
is foreseen must surely befall, but (as they say) that what befalls
must all surely have been foreseen. Herein I am inquiring diligently
which thing is the cause of which,- God's prescience the cause of
the necessity of things to come, or the necessity of things to come
the cause of the prescience. But though I strive not further to show
in what order the causes stand, I know full well that things foreknown
must certainly befall, even if it follow not therefrom that it was the
foreknowledge which made the befalling necessary.
  'For if a man be sitting yonder on a seat, then certes your belief
that he is sitting must needs be true; and even as true must be the
converse, that, if your belief be true because he is sitting, then
he must needs be sitting. And thus there is necessity on either
side, in him necessity of sitting and in you necessity of rightness.
But, you may say, the man sits not because your belief that he is
sitting is true; but, rather, because the man was already sitting,
therefore your belief is true, in faith. And I say, though your belief
be true because of his sitting, yet there is interchange of
necessity between him and you.
  'Thus in the same wise, as it seems to me, I may frame my
reasoning on God's providence and on things to come; by which
reasoning men may well see that those things which betide on earth
come all by necessity. For although it be true that because a thing is
to come it is foreseen, and not that it be to come because it is
foreseen; yet nevertheless one of the two must be true, that a thing
to come must needs be foreseen, or else a thing foreseen betides of
necessity, which in truth suffices utterly to destroy our free choice.
But now it is absurd to say that the befalling of temporal things is
cause of God's eternal prescience; truly that were a false conclusion.
What were such a thought but to believe that God foresees things to
come only because they are to come, and that all things which have
whilom befallen have been the cause of that sovereign providence which
infallibly foreknows all things? Even as when I know there is a thing,
that thing must needs be so, right so when I know a thing as coming,
come it must. And thus the befalling of things known before the time
cannot be escaped by any path.' And then he ended, 'Almighty Jove upon
thy throne, who knowest the truth about all this, pity my sorrow and
let me die straightway, or else bring Criseyde and me out of our
trouble!'
  Whilst he was in this heaviness, disputing with himself in this
matter, Pandarus came in. 'O mighty God upon Thy throne!' quoth he:
'Eh! who ever saw a wise man demean him so! Why, Troilus! Have you
such pleasure to be your own enemy,- what think you to do? Criseyde is
not gone yet, perdy! Why allow fear so to destroy you that your eyes
seem dead in your visage? Lived you not all your life before without
her, and fared full well and at ease? Were you born for her and none
other? Did Nature fashion you only to please her? Can you not think
thus in your trouble, that as chances fall in dice, so there come
and go pleasures in love? And this is my chiefest wonder, why you
sorrow thus when you know not yet how her going shall be, nor have you
yet tested her wit, whether she can herself avert it. It is time
then for a man to sorrow at the hard necessity and to offer his
neck, when his head must off.
  'Therefore take heed what I say. I have been with her long
a-talking, even as you and I agreed, and it has evermore seemed to
me that she has somewhat in the privity of her heart wherewith, if I
see aright, she can put a stop to all this thing of which you are in
dread. Wherefore my counsel is that you go to her at night and make an
end of this. Of her great might blessed Juno I hope will send her
grace to us. My heart says, "Certainly she shall not go." Therefore
let your heart repose a while and be constant; that is best.'
  'You say right well,' Troilus answered, sighing sore, 'and I will do
even so.' And then he said to him what more he would.
  When it was time to go, he came alone full privily to her, as he was
wont. And how they did I will tell you straightway. It is the truth
that when they first came together, the sorrow so wrung their hearts
that neither could salute the other, but could only embrace and softly
kiss. Whichever had least woe knew not what to do nor could bring
out a word, for woful sobbing. The tears which they let fall were as
bitter, beyond the manner of tears, as aloes or gall. The woful
Myrrha, as I find written in books, wept not through her bark tears so
bitter; there is not so hard a heart in all this world that would
not have felt compassion.
  But when their two weary spirits returned to their proper seats, and
by length of sobbing the pain began somewhat to grow dull, and the
spring of bitter tears to ebb, and their swelling hearts to subside,
Criseyde spoke thus, with broken voice all hoarse with crying: 'O
Jove, I die! Mercy, I beg! Help, Troilus!' Therewith her woful
spirit was on the point of flitting from its home, and she laid her
face upon his breast and lost the power of speech.
  Thus she lay with that hue all livid which once was the freshest and
fairest ever seen; as he gazed upon her, calling her name, she lay
as dead, answerless, her limbs all cold and her eyes rolled upward,
and the sorrowful man could think of naught to do save often to kiss
her cold mouth. God Himself knows that he was woful! He arose and
stretched her out at length; for aught that he could find, there was
no sign of life in her. Full often his song was, 'Alas! Alas!' When he
saw how she lay speechless, with sorrowful voice and joyless heart
he said to himself that she was gone from this world. After he had
bewailed her long, wrung his hands, said what he could not but say,
and besprinkled his breast with salt tears, then he began to wipe
his tears off full dry and with piteous devotion to pray for her soul,
and said, 'Lord, upon Thy throne, have pity also on me, for I must
shortly follow her!'
  She was all cold and without feeling, so far as he could tell, and
he could feel no breath, which to him was a faithful sign that she was
gone forth out of this world. And when he saw that there was no
other resource, he disposed her limbs in such a fashion as men do
for folk that are to be laid on bier. And then with stern and savage
heart he plucked his sword out of its sheath to slay himself, whatever
agony it might cost; so that his soul might follow hers where the
decree of Minos should place it, since love and cruel Fortune would
not that he should live longer in this world.
  'O cruel Jove, and thou, hostile Fortune,' he said, filled with high
scorn, 'I can say no otherwise than that ye have falsely slain
Criseyde; and since ye can do no worse to me, fie on your might and
your works so perverse! Ye shall never speed against me in so cowardly
wise,- no death shall part me from my lady! For since ye have slain
her thus, I will leave this world and hasten forth after her spirit.
Never shall a lover say that Troilus durst not for fear die with his
lady; in very truth I will bear her company. But since ye will not
suffer us to live here, yet suffer our souls to be together. And thou,
city, that I leave thus wofully, thou, Priam, and my mother and all my
brethren, farewell, for I go! Atropos, make thou ready my bier!- And
thou Criseyde, sweet dear heart, receive my spirit now-,' he was about
to say, his sword at his heart, all ready for death.
  But, as God would have it, thereupon she awoke from her swoon, began
to sigh, and 'Troilus!' she cried.
  'Criseyde, my heart, live you yet?' he answered, and let his sword
slip downward.
  'Yea, my heart, thanks be to Cyprian Venus!' quoth she. And then she
sighed sorely, and he began to comfort her as he could, took her in
his two arms and often kissed her, and did all his best to cheer
her; wherefore her spirit, which was fluttering at her lips, went
again softly into her heart. At last, as her eye glanced around, she
espied his sword lying bare, and cried out for fear and asked why he
had drawn it. Troilus straightway told the cause and how he would have
slain himself; for which Criseyde gazed upon him, and folded him
fast in her arms, saying, 'Ah mercy, God! What an act! Alas, how
nearly we were both dead! Then if I had not spoken, as good hap
willed, you would anon have slain yourself?'
  'Yea, without doubt,' quoth he.
  'Alas!' she answered, 'by the Lord that made me, I would not have
lived an hour after your death, to be crowned queen of all the land
the bright sun shines on, but with this very sword lying here I should
have slain myself.- But stay,' she said, 'for we have had enough of
this. Now let us rest ourselves together and speak of our trouble, for
by the night-light burning there I see well that day is not far
hence.'
  When they were set down together, folded in each other's arms, it
was not as at times before; each gazed piteously on the other as one
that had lost all his joy, saying 'Alas that they were born!': till at
last woful Criseyde said to Troilus, 'Lo! my heart, you well know
this, that if a wight be ever complaining his woe and seek not how
to be helped, it is merely folly, and increase to his trouble. Since
we two are come together here to find a remedy, it is time to begin
straightway. I am a woman, you know full well; and as I have formed
a plan suddenly, I will tell it you whilst it is hot! Methinks neither
you nor I ought in reason to make half this to-do, for there are
ways enough to redress what is amiss, and to slay this gloom. I
suppose our woe is for nothing else than because we must part.
Considering all, we shall find nothing else amiss. But what remedy
is there here except that we lay our plans soon to meet again? This is
the conclusion of the whole matter, dear sweet heart! Now that I shall
guide things so that I shall return soon after I have gone, thereof
I have no manner of doubt. Certainly within a week or two I shall be
here; and that it can be so I will show you a multitude of ways in few
words. I will not make a long discourse, for time lost can never be
recovered, but I will go right to my conclusion. And forgive it me,
for God's love, if I speak aught against your heart's repose, for
truly I say it for the best; and I protest that this thing which I
shall say is only to show you my purpose to find the best way to
help us, and I beg you to take it no otherwise, for, in fine, whatso
you command me that I will do; of that there is no question.
  'Now hearken: you know full well that my going is so fully decreed
by parliament that I judge it cannot be annulled by all the world. And
since no plan to hinder it can help us, let that pass out of mind, and
let us devise a better way. True it is that our parting will trouble
and cruelly distress us, but he that serves Love must sometimes have
pains if he would have joy. And since I am to go no farther from the
city than I can ride back in half a morning, it ought to cause us
the less sorrow. I shall not be so mewed up that, since you well
know there is now a truce, you shall not full well learn of my
estate from day to day, my own dear heart. And before the truce is
over I shall be here, and thus you will have won both Antenor and me
also. Strive now to be of good cheer, and think, "Criseyde is gone
now, but what! she will speedily return."
  'And when, alas!'
  'Right shortly, by heaven. Before ten days, I dare be bound. And
then straightway you will be so fain because we shall evermore be
together, that the whole world could not tell our joy. Often, as we
are now, to hide our secret, we have found it best that you speak
not with me for a whole fortnight nor I with you, nor even see you
in the street. Can you not then wait ten days in such a case to save
my honor? If not, in faith you can bear little!
  'You know too how all my kin are here, save only my father, and also
all else that is mine, and especially you, dear heart, whom I would
not cease to see for all this world, wide as it is! If this be
false, may I never behold Jove's face in heaven! Why, believe you that
my father so craves to see me thus, except for fear lest folk in
this town despise me for his unhappy act? What knows he of the life
which I lead? If he knew how well I fare in Troy, we should not be
grieving over my departure.
  'You see too that every day more and more men treat of peace, and it
is supposed that men shall give back queen Helen, and that the
Greeks shall amend that wherein they have injured us. So though
there were no other comfort than that on every side men are
proposing peace, you may dwell in the more ease of heart. For if there
be peace, dear heart, of necessity men must commune together and
ever be riding and walking to and fro as thick as bees fly from a
hive, and every wight have liberty to remain where he will, without
leave. And though there be no peace, yet hither I must return; for
whither should I go, or how (a plague!) should I remain there ever
in fright amongst those men of arms? Wherefore, so may God help me,
I cannot see what you should fear.
  'Here is another way, if so be all this suffice you not. My father
is old, as you know well, and age is full of covetousness; and I
have but now found a way to catch him without a net! Listen now, and
see if you will assent. Men say, Troilus, that it is hard to have
the wolf full and the wether whole; this is to say, men full oft
must spend part to save the remnant. Ever with gold men may impress
the heart of him that is set on covetousness. How I mean it I will
tell you. I will take to my father the goods which I have in this
town, and say they are sent in trust from a friend or two of his to
save them; which friends fervently pray him to send in haste after
more, whilst the town stands thus in jeopardy. And that shall be a
huge amount, I shall tell him. But lest folk should espy it, this
may be sent by none but me. I shall also show him how many friends I
have near the court, if peace betide, to mollify the wrath of Priam
and bring him back to grace.
  'So, what for one thing and what for another, I shall so bespell him
with my words, sweet one, that he shall dream his soul is right in
heaven! For Apollo and the doctrine of his clerks avail not three
haws! Desire of gold shall so dazzle his soul that I shall make an end
as I list. And if he shall enquire by his augury if I lie, I shall
verily contrive to disturb him and pluck him by the sleeve making
his augury, or persuade him that he has not well understood the
gods; for the gods speak in equivocations, and for one truth they tell
twenty lies. And it was fear first invented gods, I suppose (this is
what I shall say to him), and it was his coward heart made him
construe the gods' text amiss when he fled from his Delphi in fear. If
I make him not speedily to turn about, and do as I will within a day
or two, I pledge myself to die!'
  And truly, as I find it written, all this was said with sincerity
and good intent, and her heart was true and loving towards him, and
she nigh died for woe when she left him and purposed ever to be
faithful; thus they write that knew of her deeds.
  With eager ear and heart Troilus heard all this debated to and
fro, and verily it seemed to him he was of the same mind; yet evermore
his heart misgave him, as to letting her go. But finally he made shift
so to turn his heart as to trust her and make the best of it.
Wherefore the great fury of his pain was quenched with hope, and
they began their old joyous endearments. As the birds, when the sun is
bright, delight in their song amongst the green leaves, the words that
they spoke together delighted them and cleared their hearts.
  But nevertheless, in spite of all, the going of Criseyde would not
out of his mind, and full often he prayed her piteously that he
might find her true of heart. 'Certes, if you are unkind,' he said,
'and if you return not on the day set, I shall never again have health
or honor or joy! For as truly as the sun rises in the morning, and
so surely may God bring me, woful wretch, out of this cruel sorrow
to rest, I will slay myself if you tarry! Though there be little to
care about in my death, yet, rather than cause me to suffer so, remain
here, my own dear heart! For truly the sleights that I hear you plan
are full likely to fail altogether. Thus men say, "the bear thinks one
thing, but his leader quite another"! Your sire is wise, and it is
said,

              "Men may outrun but not outwit the wise."

  It is full hard to limp undetected before a cripple, for he
understands the art! In trickery your father is eyed as Argus, for
albeit he is bereft of his goods, his old craft so remains with him
that for all your woman's art you shall not blind him nor feign aught,
and that is all my dread.
  'I know not if peace will ever come. But peace or no peace, for jest
or earnest, since Calchas has once been on the Greek side and so
foully lost his honor, he will dare come here no more for shame.
Wherefore to hope that way, for aught that I can see, is but a
fantasy. You shall see also your father will cajole you to marry,
and he can preach so well, and will so commend and praise some
Greek, that he will ravish you with his words or force you to do as he
will. And Troilus, for whom he will have no pity, will die in his
fidelity! Besides all this, your father will despise us all and say
this city is as good as lost and that the siege will never be
raised, because all the Greeks have sworn to maintain it till we are
slain and our walls overthrown. Thus he will affright you, and ever
I fear that you will remain. And also you will see so many a lusty
knight amongst the valiant Greeks, and each will be so diligent with
heart, wit and might to please you, that you will weary of the
rudeness of us simple Trojans, unless pity sting you, or sense of
fidelity. And that is so grievous a thought to me that it will send
the soul from my breast. Of a surety I can look for naught but evil if
you go. Your father's craft will ruin us. If you go, as I have told
you already, think that I am a dead man, without help.
  'Wherefore with heart piteous, true and humble I cry you mercy a
thousand times. Pity my bitter pains and contrive to do as I would
have you. Let us steal away, we two alone. Think how it is folly, when
a man has his choice, to lose the substance for the show. I mean thus:
since we can well steal off before day and be together so, what sort
of wit were it to put it to the test, in case you should go to your
father, whether you can return again or no? I mean it were a great
foolishness to put this sureness into jeopardy. To speak in a homely
wise of goods and wealth, we both can carry with us enough to live
upon in honor and pleasure till the day of our death. Thus we can
escape this fear; and whatever other way you can speak of, in truth my
heart misgives me. Be assured you need dread no poverty, for I have
elsewhere kin and friends, so that, though we came in our bare shirts,
we should lack for neither gold nor goods, but be held in honor as
long as we dwelt there. Let us go straightway, for in my mind this
is the best, if you assent.'
  With a sigh Criseyde answered him in this wise, 'Truly, my dear
faithful heart, we may well steal away as you describe, or find such
sorry new ways; but full sore shall we repent it afterwards. So may
God help me in my hour of greatest need, as you suffer all this fear
without cause. For on that day when I am false to you, my Troilus,
my knight, for dread of my father or any other man, or because men
cherish me or offer marriage or station or pleasure, may Saturn's
daughter Juno by her power cause me, as mad as Athamas, to abide
eternally in Styx, the pit of hell! And this I swear to you by every
celestial god and every goddess, on every infernal deity, on every
nymph and faun and satyr great and small (which be half-gods of the
wilderness)! And let Atropos snap my thread of life if I be false! Now
doubt me if you will! And thou, Simois, that like a clear arrow ever
runnest through Troy downward to the sea, bear witness of this word,
that, on the day when I am untrue to Troilus, my own noble heart, thou
return backward to thy source, and I sink body and soul in hell!
  'But as to what you speak of, to go away thus and abandon all your
friends, God forbid you should do so for any woman's sake, and above
all since Troy has now such need of help! Take heed of one thing,-
if this were known, my life and your honor should lie in the
balance. God shield us from such disaster! And if so be peace be
made hereafter (as ever, after distress, comes mirth),- why, Lord!
what sorrow and woe you would be in because you durst not for shame
return! Ere you so jeopardize your honor, be not too hasty and eager
in this business: sorrow is never wanting to the hasty man. What
trow you the people all around would say of you? It is full easy to
divine. They would say, and swear to it, that not love but
voluptuous pleasure and coward dread drove you to this deed; thus your
honor, which now shines so bright, were wholly lost, dear heart. And
also think on my fair name, which still is green; how foully I
should disgrace it, and spot it with what filth, if I should depart
with you in this wise! Though I lived to the end of the world I should
never win it back. Thus I were wholly lost, and that were pity and
sin.
  'Therefore put down all this heat by reason. "Patience conquers,"
men say. Be not penny-wise pound-foolish, but make a virtue of
necessity. Be patient, and think that he is ever lord of Fortune
that cares not a rush for her, and that she daunts no wight but a
craven. Trust to this, dear heart, that ere Phoebus' sister bright
Lucina, which is now in the Ram, pass out of the Lion, I will be here,
without any doubt. I mean, and so may Juno, queen of heaven, help me!,
that the tenth day, unless death assail me, I shall see you.'
  'And now,' quoth Troilus, 'if that be true, I will make shift to
suffer to the tenth day, since I see it must needs be.- But for the
love of God, let us steal privily away, if it may be so, for ever
alike my heart says it will be the best for us to live in quiet
peace.'
  'O mercy, God, what a life this is!' quoth she. 'Alas, you slay me
for very grief! I see well now that you mistrust me, for by your words
it is now clear. Now for the love of bright Cynthia and in pity for
me, mistrust me not thus without cause, since I have plighted you my
troth to be faithful. Think well, that sometimes it is wisdom to let
one occasion go, to gain another. I am not yet lost to you though we
be a day or two apart! Drive out these fancies from your head, trust
me and let go your grief, or by my troth I will not live till morning.
For if you knew how sore it pains me, you would have done; God knows
the very spirit in my heart weeps to see you weep that I love most,
and because I must go to the Greek camp. Yea, were it not that I
know a way to come again, I would die even here. But certes I am not
so foolish a wight that I cannot imagine a means to return the day
that I have promised. Who can hold back what will away? Not my father,
for all his cunning gear! By my thrift, my departure shall another day
turn us all to joy.
  'Therefore I beseech you with all my heart, if you list to do
aught at my prayer and for the love with which I love you too, that
before I leave you I may see you of so good cheer and comfort that you
may put my heart at rest which is now a-bursting. And besides this, my
own heart's true sufficiency, since I am wholly yours, I pray you that
whilst I am absent no delight in another put me from your remembrance.
I am ever afeared, for, as men declare,

               "Love is a thing ay full of busy dread."

  For if you should be untrue (which God forbid!), no lady lives in
this world who were so betrayed or woe-begone as I, who believe all
faithfulness in you. Of a surety, if I believed otherwise, I were no
better than dead. Unless you find cause, for God's love be not
unkind to me!'
  'God, from whom no thought is hidden, grant me joy,' answered
Troilus, 'as surely as never, since the day I first cast these eyes on
her, was I false to Criseyde or shall be till I die! In few words,
well may you trust me! I can say no more, it shall be found indeed
at the test.'
  'Gramercy indeed, my best lover,' quoth she; and may blessed Venus
let me never die till I may stand at a point of happiness to requite
him well who deserves so well! Whilst God leaves me my wit, I shall so
act that honor shall be reflected back on me, I have found you so
true! For trust well that neither vain delight, nor yet your royal
estate, nor only your valor in war or martial tourney, nor your pomp
or splendor, nobility or wealth, made me take pity on your distress,
but your moral virtue, founded upon your faithfulness,- that was the
cause why I first had pity on you. And your gentle heart and
manhood, and that I believed you held in despite all that tended to
ill, such as roughness and vulgar desires, and that your reason
bridled your pleasures,- this gave me over to you more than to any
other creature, to hold for life. And this may not be spoiled by
length of years or changeful Fortune.
  'But may Jupiter, who of his might can make the sorrowful glad,
grant us the boon to meet here again ere ten days, that it may content
your heart and mine. And now farewell, for it is time that you were up
and away!'
  After they had long lamented, and had often kissed and been folded
in each other's arms, the day began to rise and Troilus prepared to
go, and looked ruefully upon his lady, feeling the cold pains of
death, and commended him to her grace. Whether he was woful I need not
ask! For the mind of man cannot imagine, nor understanding consider,
nor tongue tell, the cruel pains of this hapless lover, which passed
every infernal torment. When he saw that she could not remain who
was rending his soul out of his heart, without anything more he went
from the chamber.

                       «Explicit Liber Quartus.»


{BK5
                               Book V

                        «Incipit Liber Quintus.»


  THE fatal destiny was approaching which Jove has in his
disposition and commits to you, angry Parcae, sisters three, to
execute: by which Criseyde must from Troy, and Troilus must dwell in
pain till Lachesis twine his thread no longer. The golden-tressed
Phoebus on high had thrice with his bright beams melted the snows
and Zephyr had as often brought back the tender green leaves, since
the son of Queen Hecuba had begun to love her, for whom all his sorrow
was, that she must depart that morn.
  At prime Diomed was full ready to lead Criseyde to the Greek host,
for sorrow at which she felt her heart bleed, not knowing any
remedy. Truly, as men read in books, never was woman known so full
of care or so loath to leave a city. Troilus, at his wit's end, as a
man that had lost all his joys, was ever awaiting his lady, the true
blossom, and more, of all his former happiness. But, Troilus, farewell
now to all of it, for never again shalt thou see her in Troy! It is
truth that whilst he thus waited he hid his woe full manly, that it
was scarce seen in his cheer. At the gate where she was to ride out he
tarried with certain folk awaiting her, so woe-begone, though he would
not lament, that he scarce could sit his horse. When Diomed mounted
his horse, Troilus quaked for ire, so was his heart gnawed within him,
and he said to himself, 'Alas! such a foul wretchedness,- why will I
suffer it? Why will I not set it right? Were it not better to die at
once than evermore to languish thus? Why should I not straightway give
rich and poor enough to do, before she should go? Why not bring all
Troy upon an uproar, why not slay this Diomed, or why not rather
with the help of a man or two steal her away? Why endure I this, why
not help to cure my own woes?'
  I shall tell why he would not do so fell a deed; he had ever in
heart a sort of fear lest Criseyde in the uproar might be slain.
This was all his anxiety, and else he had surely done it.
  When Criseyde was ready to ride, full sorrowfully she sighed 'Alas!'
But there was no help, forth she must, for aught that might befall,
and she slowly rode onward. What wonder though it pained her, when she
was foregoing her own dear heart? Troilus in courteous wise, with hawk
on hand and a great troop of knights, rode far on to bear her
company beyond the valley. And full fain he would no doubt have ridden
farther, and woe was him to part so soon; but turn he must. And with
that Antenor was come from the Greek host, at which every wight was
glad and made him welcome. Troilus, though his heart were not light,
did his best at least to refrain from weeping, and kissed Antenor
and made much of him. Then he must take his leave; he cast his eye
piteously upon her and rode nearer, to speak to her and take her
gravely by the hand. Lord, how tenderly she wept! And he said to her
full softly and secretly, 'Now keep your day and kill me not!' Then
with a pale face he turned his courser about, and spoke not a word
to Diomed nor to any of his troop, and departed homeward.
  Of this the son of Tydeus took heed, as one that knew more than
the primer of love's craft; when he saw the folk of Troy departed,
he took her by the bridle and thought, 'All my labor shall not be in
vain, if I may help it; I will say somewhat to her, for at the worst
it may beguile our journey. I have heard it said a score of times,

              "He is a fool that will forget himself."'

  Yet thus he thought well enough too, 'Of a surety I am about a
wild-goose chase, if I am malapert or speak of love, for doubtless, if
she have in her thought him that I guess, he cannot be put out of it
so soon. But I shall find a way so that she shall not know yet what
I mean.'
  In due season Diomed, knowing full well what he was about, began
to fall in speech of this and that, asked why she was in such
distress, and besought her that if he could in any wise advance her
pleasure, she should command it him, and he would do it, he said.
And faithfully, as a knight, he swore her there was naught that
could content her but he would do it with all his heart. He prayed her
to appease her sorrow, and said, 'In faith, we Greeks can delight to
honor you as well as folk of Troy. I wot it seems strange to you,'
he said also, '-and no wonder, it is all so new-, to exchange the
acquaintance of these Trojans for folk of Greece, who are all
foreign to you. Yet God forbid but you should meet amongst us all as
kind a Greek as any Trojan is, and as true. And because even now I
swore to you to be your friend and as helpful as I could, and I have
had more acquaintance with you than any other Greek has had, from this
time forth day and night I pray you to command me, whatsoever it may
cost, in all that may please your heart, and to treat me as your
brother, and not to scorn my friendship. Though your sorrow be for
some great matter, I know not why, but my heart feels a joyous
desire to put it away at once; and if I cannot set your troubles
right, full sorry I am for your heaviness. For though you Trojans have
been wroth with us Greeks many a day, yet in truth we all serve one
god of Love; and for the love of God, my noble lady, whomsoever you
may hate, be not wroth with me. For truly no wight serving you can
be half so loath to merit your wrath. And were we not so nigh the tent
of Calchas, who may see us, I would tell you all that is in my mind.
But all this shall be kept under seal till another day. Give me your
hand; so may God help me, as I am and ever shall be, whilst life shall
last, your own above every creature. This I never said before now to
any woman born, for as I hope for joy, I never loved a woman before,
nor ever shall again. So for God's love be not my foe, dear lady,
though I know not how to make my complaint to you aright, because I
have yet to learn. Wonder not, my own bright lady, though I speak to
you of love thus early; I have heard ere this of many a man has
loved a lady whom he never saw in his life before, nor have I the
power to strive against the god of Love, but I must ever obey him
and pray you for mercy. Such worthy knights as there are in this host,
and you so fair, every one of them will do his best to stand in your
favor; but if so fair a grace should befall me that you would call
me your servant, none of them will so lowly and so truly serve you
as I shall till I die.'
  Unto that talk Criseyde answered but little, being so oppressed with
sorrow that in effect she heard not his tale except here and there a
word or two. Her sorrowful heart seemed ready to burst, and when she
espied her father from afar, she wellnigh sank down off her horse. But
nevertheless she thanked Diomed for all his trouble and good cheer,
and for offering his friendship; she would accept it in good part, and
would gladly do what might please him, and would trust him, as well
she might (so she said). And then she alighted from her horse. Her
father took her in his arms, and twenty times he kissed her sweetly.
'Welcome, dear daughter mine,' he said. She too said she was fain that
she might be with him, and stood forth mute, mild and gentle.- And
here I leave her abiding with her father, and I will tell you forth of
Troilus.
  To Troy this woful wight is returned, in sorrow bitter above all
other sorrows, with fierce look and pitiless face. Abruptly he
leaped down from his horse, and with a swollen heart stalked through
his palace to his chamber; he took no heed of any wight, nor for
fear durst any speak a word to him. And there to the sorrows that he
had held in he gave full issue, and cried out for death; and in his
frantic mad throes he cursed Jove and Apollo, he cursed Cupid and
Ceres, Bacchus and Venus, he cursed Nature, his own birth, himself,
his fate, and every created thing save his lady. He went to bed, and
there wallowed and turned like Ixion in hell, and in this state he
remained till nigh day. Then his heart began a little to subside
through the tears which began to gush upward, and piteously he cried
upon Criseyde, and he spoke thus to himself:
  'Where is my own dear lady? Where is her white bosom, where is it?
Where are her arms and her clear eyes, which were with me yesterday at
this time? Now I may weep many a tear alone, and grope about; but,
saving a pillow, I find naught to embrace. How shall I do? Why have
I let her go, when will she come again? I know not, alas! Would God
I had then been slain! Oh my heart Criseyde, oh my sweet foe, oh my
lady, whom alone I love, on whom I bestowed my heart forever! See
how I die, and thou wilt not rescue me! Who sees thee now, my true
loadstar, who sits or stands in thy presence, who can allay the war in
thine heart now I am gone? To whom dost thou lend thine hearing, who
speaks for me now in mine absence? Alas, that is all my grief,- no
one, for well I know thou farest as ill as I. How should I endure
ten full days of this, when the first night I have all this pain?
Sorrowful creature, how shall she too fare, how shall her tender heart
bear such woe for me? Piteous, pale, and wan for longing will be thy
fresh womanly face before thou comest back hither!'
  And when he fell into any slumber, anon he would begin to groan, and
dream of the dreadfullest things that might be: as that he was in a
solitary horrible place ever lamenting, or that he was amongst his
enemies and fallen into their hands. And therewith his body would
start, and with the start he would suddenly awake, and feel such a
tremor in his breast that his body would quiver for fear. And he would
make a sound, and feel as if he were falling far and low from on high,
and then he would weep, and so dolorously pity himself that it was
wondrous to hear his fantasy. Another time he would earnestly
comfort himself, and say it was folly to suffer such dread so
causelessly; and then his bitter pains would begin anew, so that any
man would pity his sorrows. Who could tell aright or fully describe
his woe, his lament, languor, and pain? Not all the men who are or
have been on earth! Thou, reader, canst full well divine that my wit
cannot depict such woe; in vain I should toil to write it when my
wit is weary to think it!
  The stars were still visible in heaven, though the moon was waxed
full pale, and the horizon eastward began to whiten, and Phoebus
with his rosy car soon after began to draw upwards, when Troilus
sent for Pandarus. All the day before, Pandarus could not have come to
see him, not if he had pledged his head, for all day he was with
King Priam, so that it lay not in his liberty to go anywhere. But on
the morrow he went to Troilus when he sent after him, for in his heart
he could well divine that all night Troilus had been awake for sorrow;
and that he wished to talk to him of his trouble Pandarus knew full
well without book! Wherefore he made his way straight to the
chamber, gravely greeted Troilus, and sat him down on the bed.
  'My Pandarus,' quoth Troilus, 'I cannot long endure this grief. I
believe I shall not live till to-morrow, therefore upon that chance
I would devise to you the manner of my sepulture, and do you dispose
of my goods even as seems best to you. As to the funeral-fire in which
my body shall be burned to coals, and the feast and funeral games at
my vigil, I pray you take good care that all be well done. And offer
Mars my steed, my sword and helm; and, beloved brother, give my
bright-shining shield to Pallas. The dust into which my heart shall be
burned I pray you to take and conserve in a vessel of gold that men
call an urn, and give it my lady whose I am and for whose love I die
so piteously, and do me this grace to pray her keep it for a
remembrance. For I feel clearly, by my malady and by my dreams now and
of yore, that I certainly shall not live; and the owl, that men call
Ascalaphus, has shrieked after me all these two nights. And, O thou
god Mercury, do thou guide my soul and fetch it when thou wilt!'
  'Troilus, my dear friend,' Pandarus answered and said, 'I have
long told you that it is folly to sorrow thus and without a cause;
wherefore I can say no more. But whoso will not trust counsel or
instruction, I can see no help for him but to let him alone with his
fantasy. But I pray you tell me now, Troilus, believe you that any man
ere this was ever hotly in love as well as you? Yea, God wot! And full
many a worthy knight has foregone his lady a month, and yet not made
half your lament! What need have you to make all this woe; since day
by day you can see yourself that men must needs part from their
loves or from their wives? Yea, though he love her as his own heart,
yet he will not thus contend with himself, for well you know, dear
brother, that friends cannot always be together. How fare these folk
that see their loves wedded and bedded with others through
compulsion of friends, as betides full often? God wot, they take it
discreetly, well and mildly, for good hope keeps up their hearts;
and because they can bear a time of sorrow, as time hurts them a
time cures them! So should you hold out, and let the time slip by, and
strive to be glad and lightsome! Ten days is not so long to wait!
Since she has promised you to return, she will not break her promise
for any man. Fear not but she will find a way to return, I dare
stake my life thereon!
  'Your dreams and all such fancies,- drive them out and let them go
to the Devil! They proceed from your melancholy, which causes you
all this suffering in your sleep. A straw for all dreams and their
significance,- so may God help me, I value them not two peas! No man
knows aright what dreams mean. Priests of the temple say that dreams
are the revelations of the gods; and they say as well that they are
infernal illusions. And leeches say that they proceed from men's
natural temperaments, or from gluttony or fasting. Others say that
visions come through impressions, as when a wight has held a thing
fast in mind. Others say, as they read in books, that by nature men
dream according to the time of year, and that the manner of it goes by
the moon. Thus who knows, in truth, what they signify? Believe them
not. It is these old wives find a relish in dreams, and also in
auguries of birds (such as death-bodings of ravens or shrieking of
owls), for fear of which folk expect to perish. To believe in them
is both false and base. Alas, alas! that so noble a creature as a
man should dread such filth!
  'Wherefore I beseech you with all my heart that you spare yourself
all this, and now arise without a word more and let us plan how this
time may best be passed away, and how we may live lustily when she
returns, which shall be right soon. So God help me, you were best do
thus. Rise, let us occupy the time, and speak of the lusty life that
we have led in Troy, and delight in the time to come that shall
bring us our bliss now so quickly. Thereby we shall so forget or
overcome the languor of these ten days that it shall scarce be a
hardship. This town all about is full of lords, and all this time
the truce is lasting; let us go to Sarpedon, who lives but a mile
away, and divert ourselves in some lusty company. Thus you shall
beguile the time until that blissful day when you are to see her who
is causing your grief. Now rise, dear brother Troilus; certes it
does you no honor to weep and crouch so in your bed. Believe me
truly in one thing; if you lie thus a day or two, folk will say that
you are feigning sickness out of cowardice, and dare not arise!'
  'Brother mine,' answered Troilus, 'folk who have suffered grief know
that it is no wonder if a man weep and make sorrowful cheer who
feels a hurt and smart in every vein. I am no wise to blame though I
ever lament or always weep, since I have lost the cause of all my
happiness. But since of very necessity I must arise, I will do so as
soon as I can. May God, to whom I offer my heart, send quickly the
tenth morning! Never was fowl so fain of May as I shall be when she
returns who is cause of both my torment and my joy. But where in all
this town is it your counsel that we can best divert ourselves?'
  'By heaven, my counsel is,' quoth Pandarus, 'that we ride to King
Sarpedon to disport us.' This they talked of back and forth, till at
last Troilus consented to rise, and they went forth to Sarpedon.
  This Sarpedon, ever free-handed and noble of station, fed them day
by day with every rich viand that could be served on table, whatever
wealth it cost. Such splendor, so said great and small, was never
known at any feast before that day. Nor is there any instrument
delicious in sound of wind or touch of string, which tongue may tell
of or heart remember, in all this world so far as men have
travelled, that it was not heard in harmony at the feast. Nor was so
fair a company of ladies ever seen before on the dance.
  But what availed this to Troilus, who recked not of it for sorrow?
Ever alike his piteous heart was seeking busily after his lady
Criseyde. All that his heart thought was ever of her, now this, now
that, so diligent in fancy that no festival could gladden him. Since
his own lady was away, it was a sorrow to behold the ladies at the
feast; or to hear instruments of music. When she was absent who bore
the key of his heart, it was his fancy that none ought to make melody.
Nor was there an hour in all the night or day, when he was where he
could not be heard, that he said not, 'O bright and lovesome lady, how
hast thou fared since thou wert here? Welcome indeed, my own sweet
lady!'
  But alackaday! Fortune was but deluding him, and meant to mock him
even more.
  The letters that she had sent him of old he would read over alone
a hundred times betwixt prime and nones, refiguring within his heart
her form and her womanhood, and every word and act that was past. Thus
the fourth day wore through; and then he was for going home. 'Dear
brother Pandarus,' he said, 'mean you that we shall remain here
until Sarpedon shall dismiss us? It were more seemly that we took
leave ourselves. For the love of heaven, let us take our leave this
night and turn homeward, for truly I will not tarry thus!'
  'Are we come hither to fetch fire and run with it home again?'
Pandarus replied. 'God bless me, in very truth I cannot tell whither
we could go where any wight should be gladder of us than Sarpedon
is. If we hasten away so suddenly, I hold it for churlishness,
seeing we said we would remain with him a week; to take our leave
the fourth day, truly he would wonder at it. Let us hold to our
purpose, and, since we promised to remain, keep our agreement and then
ride away.'
  Thus with all the trouble in the world Pandarus made him remain, and
at the week's end they took leave of Sarpedon and sped on their way.
'Now Lord grant me the grace at my home-coming,' quoth Troilus, 'to
find Criseyde come!', and he began to sing.
  'Yea, a likely story!' thought Pandarus, and said full softly to
himself, 'God wot, this hot excitement may have time to cool ere
Calchas send Criseyde back!' But nevertheless he chaffed and jested
and swore his heart promised him that she would come as soon as ever
she could. When they were come to Troilus' palace, they alighted and
took their way to his chamber, and till night began to fall they
talked of the bright Criseyde; and then when they would, they sped
them from supper to rest.
  On the morrow, when day began to brighten, Troilus started out of
sleep and said full piteously to his dear friend Pandarus, 'For the
love of God, let us go see Criseyde's palace; since as yet we can have
no more gaiety, let us at least see her palace!' And therewithal, to
hoodwink his household, he devised a reason for going to town, and
they took their way to Criseyde's house. But Lord! how woful was
this poor Troilus! He felt his sorrowful heart would burst in two; for
when he saw her doors all barred, he nigh fell down for sorrow, and
when he saw how every window was shut, his heart grew cold as frost.
With a changed and deadly pale face he passed by without a word, and
rode so fast that no wight observed his countenance. And then he said,
'Ah desolate palace, ah house once called the best of houses, empty
and comfortless palace, lantern whose flame is quenched, palace that
now art night, and once wert day and crown of all houses, illumined
with the sun of all bliss, ah ring from which the ruby is fallen
out, ah cause of woe as once of solace! Thou oughtest indeed to
fall, and I to die, since she is gone who governed us both. Yet
since I can do no better, I fain would kiss thy cold doors, if I durst
before these folk. Farewell, shrine, from which the saint is gone!'
And then with a changed face, piteous to see, he cast his eye upon
Pandarus, and as he rode, when he could see his time, he told him
his new sorrow and his former joys so pitifully and with so deadly a
look that any one would have had compassion.
  Then he rode up and down, and everything came to his memory as he
rode by places in the city where aforetime he had enjoyed Love's
pleasantness: 'Yonder I last saw my lady dance, and in that temple
my sweet lady first caught me with her clear eyes; and yonder I have
heard my dear heart laugh full merrily, and yonder she said to me
once, "Now, good sweet friend, love me well, I pray!"; and yonder
she looked on me in so goodly a manner that my heart is hers till
death; and in that corner of that house, I heard my dearest lady
sing so well with her womanly melodious voice, so goodly and so clear,
that in my soul the blissful sound seems to ring yet! And in that
yonder spot my lady first took me into her grace.'
  Then he thought, 'O blessed lord Cupid, when I remember the history,
how thou hast warred against me on every side, men might make a book
of it like a tale. What need hast thou to seek a conquest on me, since
I am thine, wholly at thy will? What joy is it to thee to destroy
thine own folk? Lord, well hast thou wreaked thine ire on me, mighty
god, deadly to offend! Show mercy now, O lord! Thou knowest well I
crave thy grace above all dear pleasures, and will live and die in thy
faith; in guerdon of which I ask but one boon, that thou send me
back Criseyde speedily. Let her heart long to return as eagerly as
mine to see her; then I wot well she will not tarry. Blessed lord, I
pray thee be not so cruel to the blood of Troy as Juno was to Theban
blood, for which the folk of Thebes had their destruction!'
  After this he galloped to the gate where Criseyde had ridden out. Up
and down there he made many a turn, and often said to himself,
'Alas, here my joy and bliss rode out! Would to the blessed God that I
might see her come again into Troy! I conducted her to yonder hill,
alas!, and there took leave of her; yonder I saw her ride on to her
father, for sorrow of which my heart will split. And hither at evening
I came home; and here I remain and ever shall, outcast from happiness,
till I can see her again in Troy!'
  And himself he imagined oft to be worn and pale and grown thinner
than he was wont, and that men said secretly, 'What can it be? Who can
guess the truth, why Troilus shows these heavy looks?' And all this,
that he had these fancies, was only his melancholy. Another time he
would imagine that every wight passing along the street pitied him,
and that they said, 'I am right sorry Troilus is dying.' And thus,
as you have heard, he went through a day or two, living as one that
stands betwixt hope and dread. Wherefore he took comfort in showing in
verses as best he could the occasion of his woe, and in making a
song in few words, somewhat to relieve his heavy heart. And when he
was out of every man's sight, with a soft voice he would sing thus
of his sweet lady as you shall hear:

           'O Star which hast withdrawn from me thy light,
            With heart full sore I have good cause to wail,
            That ever dark, in torment night by night,
            Toward my death with wind astern I sail.
            Wherefore if by the tenth night I should fail
            To see thy guiding beams for but an hour,
            My ship and me Charybdis will devour.'

  When he had sung this song, he would fall straightway to his old
sighs, and every night he would stand beholding the bright moon, and
telling her all his sorrow and would say: 'Of a surety, when thou
art newly horned I shall be happy, unless all the world be false. I
saw thine old horns the morning when my own sweet lady rode hence, who
is the cause of all my torment. Therefore, O bright Lucina, for the
love of God, run fast about thy sphere for when thy new horns begin to
spring, my bliss shall return.'
  Ever more and more the days seemed to him longer than they were
wont, and the sun to go his course wrongly, by a longer way than
before. 'Truly,' he said, 'I fear the sun-god's son Phaethon is
returned, and drives his father's car amiss.'- He would walk long upon
the walls and gaze over toward the Greek camp, and say to himself,
'Yonder is my noble lady; or else yonder, where the tents are! And
thence comes this air, so sweet that in my soul I feel it restore
me. And surely this wind which ever stronger and stronger blows in
my face comes of my lady's deep and sore sighs! I know it because
nowhere in all this town save only here feel I a wind which sounds
so like pain; "Alas, why are we two parted?" it says.' Thus he wore
through this long time till the ninth day was fully past, and ever
beside him was Pandarus, striving his utmost to comfort and gladden
him, and ever giving him hope that the tenth day she should come and
stint his sorrow.
  On the other side was Criseyde, with a few women, amongst the
valiant Greeks. Many times a day she lamented: 'Alas that I was
born! I have lived too long, well may my heart yearn for death. And
I cannot amend things, alas! for now are they worse than ever I
believed they could be. For aught I can do to please him, my father
will not grant me the favor to return; yet if so be I outstay my time,
my Troilus will think in his heart that I am false, as indeed it
will seem. Thus I have small thanks on either hand. Alackaday that I
was born! And if I jeopardize myself and steal away by night, and if
so be I am caught, I shall be held to be a spy; or else, as I dread
most, if I fall into the hands of some wretch, I shall be a lost
woman, true though my heart may be! Mighty God, pity my sorrows!'
  Full pale waxed her bright face and her limbs lean, as she stood all
the day, when she durst, and looked on the place where she was born
and had ever dwelt; and lay all the night weeping, alas! And thus
the woful woman led her life, despairing of all help. Many times a day
she would sigh distressfully, and went ever imagining to herself the
great worthiness of Troilus, and recalling all his goodly words
since the first day when her love began to spring. Thus she set her
woful heart ablaze by the remembrance of what she longed for. There is
not so cruel a heart in all this world that would not have wept at her
bitter pains, if the ear had heard her tenderly weeping morn and
eve; she needed borrow no tears! And the worst of her pain was that
there was none to whom she durst lament. Ruefully she looked toward
Troy, and beheld the high towers and roofs; 'Alas! the joy now is
turned into bitterness, which I have often had within yonder walls!
Troilus, what dost thou now? Lord! thinks he yet upon Criseyde? Alas
that I trusted not his counsel and went not with him! My sighs had not
then been half so bitter. Who could have said that I did amiss to
steal away with such a one as he? But too late comes the physic when
men bear the corpse toward the grave! Too late now to talk of that!
Alas, Prudence! one of thy three eyes I ever lacked ere I came here;
time past I well remembered, and could well see time present, but I
could not foresee the future, till I was in the snare, and that brings
now my bitterness. But nevertheless, betide what will, to-morrow night
I shall steal at some point out of this host, and go with Troilus
where he will. This is best, and this purpose I will hold. No matter
for the prating of wicked tongues. Ever have wretches shown malice
toward love! Whoso will pay heed to every word, or rule himself
after every wight's opinion, shall never prosper, of a surety. What
some folk blame, others ever commend. For all such varying talk,
happiness is enough for me! Wherefore, without more debate, I will
to Troy; and there an end!'
  But, God wot, before two full months she was right far from that
intent. Both Troy-town and Troilus shall slip from out her heart
with naught to stay them, and she shall resolve to abide.
  This Diomed of whom I told you went about arguing within himself
with all the craft that ever he knew, how he might best and soonest
bring Criseyde's heart into his net. This purpose he never could
leave, and laid out hook and line to fish for her. He believed well
that she was not without a lover in Troy, for never since he brought
her thence could he see her laugh in gladness. He could not think
how he might best soothe her heart; 'but to make assay can do no harm,
for he that assays naught achieves naught,' he would think. Again,
upon a night he said to himself, 'Now am I not a fool, knowing well
how her woe is for love of another man, hereupon now to go making
trial of her? I might know it cannot profit me. Wise folk say in
books,

              "Men shall not woo a wight in heaviness."

  Ah! but whoso could win such a flower away from him for whom she
mourns day and night, he might call himself a conqueror indeed!' And
right anon, being a bold fellow, he thought in his heart, 'Hap as it
may, I will seek after her heart, though I die for it; I can lose no
more than my words!'
  This Diomed, as books tell us, was prompt and courageous in his
acts, with stern voice and mighty square limbs, hardy and
headstrong, sturdy and knightly of deeds like his father Tydeus;
some men say he was free of tongue; and he was lord of Calydon and
Argos.
  Criseyde was moderate of stature, and in form and face and
expression there could be no fairer thing created. Ofttimes it was her
wont to go with her bright hair tressed down her back by her collar
and bound with a thread of gold. Save that her eyebrows joined
together, there was no blemish in aught that I can learn of. But to
speak of her clear eyes, truly they that saw her wrote that Paradise
stood formed in them; and evermore love strove within her with her
rich beauty, as to which were the greater. She was grave and simple
and discreet withal, the highest-bred and stateliest lady that could
be, ever goodly of speech, charitable, generous, and gay; nevermore
was pity wanting in her tender heart, which was somewhat unstable. Her
age truly I cannot tell.
  Troilus was well-grown in height, and so perfectly formed and
proportioned that nature could not have bettered him; young, fresh,
strong, bold as a lion, and true as steel in every point, one of the
best-endued with virtues of all beings that ever were or shall be
whilst the world lasts. And certainly it is found in the histories
that he was never second unto any man of his time in the valor that
belongs to a knight. Though a giant might pass him in strength, his
heart stood equal to the first and best, to venture whatsoever he
would.
  But, to tell on of Diomed, it befell that on the tenth morning after
Criseyde went out of the city, Diomed came, as fresh as a bough in
May, to the tent where Calchas lodged, and feigned an affair with him.
What was in his mind I shall tell you shortly. Criseyde welcomed
him, and made him to sit down by her, and ready enough he was to
tarry! Straightway men fetched forth the wine and spices to them,
and they talked on of this and that, as friends do, and some of the
talk you shall hear. First he fell into speech of the war betwixt them
and the folk of Troy, and he besought her to tell him also what she
thought about the siege. From that question he came to asking if the
Greek customs and behavior seemed strange to her; and why her father
delayed so long to marry her to some noble person.
  Criseyde, who was in strong pains for love of her own knight
Troilus, answered him as well as she could, but as to what was in
his mind it seemed as if she knew not.
  Nevertheless Diomed began to gain boldness, and said, 'If I have
taken heed of you aright, my lady Criseyde, methinks that, since I
first laid hand on your bridle when you came that morning out of Troy,
I have never been able to see you except in sorrow. I cannot say
what the cause may be, unless it be the love of some Trojan; which
would grieve me right sore, that you should ever spill a quarter of
a tear for any wight that dwells there, or should cheat yourself so
piteously. Believe me, it is not worth your while. The folk of Troy,
one and all, are as it were in prison, as you see yourself; nor
could one of them come off thence alive for all the gold betwixt sun
and sea. Trust me and understand me right well: not one shall come
alive to mercy, were he lord of ten worlds! Before we go hence, such
vengeance shall be taken on them for the carrying off of Helen, that
the very Manes, gods of torment, shall be aghast for fear the Greeks
may do them hurt, and henceforth unto the end of the world men shall
dread to ravish a queen, so cruel shall our vengeance appear! And
unless Calchas mislead us with sly double words and equivocations,
such as men call words with two visages, you shall know well that I
lie not, and all this you shall see with your own eyes, and that anon,
you could scarce believe how soon. Now take heed, for it shall be
so! What! Believe you that your wise father would have readily given
Antenor for you if he knew not that the city should be destroyed? Nay,
nay, as I hope for joy! He knew well that not one Trojan shall escape,
and for that great fear he durst not let you dwell there longer.
What more will you, sweet lovesome lady? Let Troy and the Trojans pass
out of your heart! Be of good cheer, drive out that bitter hope, and
call the beauty of your face back again, which you so mar with salt
tears. Troy is brought to such peril that now no remedy can save it.
Think well that before to-morrow you may find amongst the Greeks a
more perfect lover than any Trojan is, and more kind and more
zealous to serve you. And if you vouchsafe, bright lady, I will be
he to serve you, yea, rather than be lord of twelve Greeces!'
  With those words he began to wax red, and his voice to tremble a
little, and he somewhat turned away his face and was silent a while.
Afterwards he recovered himself, and throwing a grave look on her,
he said, 'I am, though you may care naught for it, as well-born as any
in Troy. If my father Tydeus had lived longer, Criseyde, before now
I should have been king of Calydon and Argos, and so I hope I yet
shall be. But he was lucklessly slain at Thebes, all too soon, alas
the pity!, to the harm of Polynices and many another. Since I am
your man, and you the first, dear heart, whom I ever sought permission
ardently to serve (as I ever shall do whilst I live), ere I leave this
place I pray you grant me that I may to-morrow at better leisure
tell you all my pain.'
  Why should I tell all his words? He must have spoken enough for
one day at least, for Criseyde granted him to have speech with her
on the morrow, if he would speak no more of such matters. With her
heart so fast set on Troilus that none could tear it away, she spoke
to him haughtily: 'Diomed, I love that place where I was born, and may
Jove of his grace deliver it soon from all its troubles! O God, of Thy
might grant it prosperity! That the Greeks would wreak their wrath
on Troy if they could, I know well; but, before God, it shall not
befall as you say. I know my father is wise and ready of wit; and
since he has bought me so dear, as you have told me, I am the more
bounden to him. That the Greeks are men of noble parts I know full
well; but in truth men shall find within Troy-town as worthy folk,
as perfect, wise, and gentle as are betwixt Ind and the Orcades!
That you could serve your lady well, and win her thanks, I well
believe. But, to speak of love, I had a lord to whom I was wedded, and
to whom all my heart belonged till he died; and other love there now
is not in my heart, nor ever was, so may Pallas help me. That you
are of high and noble kindred I have indeed heard tell; and it is that
gives me so great a wonder that you will so mock any woman! God wot,
love and I are far apart; I am more disposed to lament wofully until
my death. As yet truly I care not for mirth; what I shall do hereafter
I cannot tell. Day by day now my heart is busy in tribulation, and you
in arms. Perchance it may so happen hereafter, when you have won the
town, and when I see what I never yet saw, that I shall do what I
never yet did! This ought to suffice you. I will gladly talk with
you to-morrow, so you speak not of this matter, and you may come
here again when you list. Ere you go, thus much I will say: So help me
bright-haired Pallas, if ever I take pity on any Greek, it shall be
you, by my troth! I say not therefore that I will do it, nor say I no;
and my last word is that as God sees me, I mean honestly.' With that
she lowered her eyes and began to sigh, saying, 'O Troy-town, I pray
God I may yet see thee in peace and quiet, or else let my heart
burst!'
  But, to speak in few words, this Diomed began freshly to press on
again, and begged hard for her grace, and after this he took her
glove, of which he was full glad; and finally, when the sun had set
and all was going well, he rose and took leave.
  Bright Venus had followed in the west and showed the way where broad
Phoebus had gone down, and Cynthia the moon was urging on her
chariot-horses to whirl out of the Lion if she could, and the Zodiac
was showing its bright candles, when Criseyde withdrew to her rest
within her father's bright fair tent; revolving round and about in her
soul the words of this impetuous Diomed, his high station, the peril
of the town, and how she was alone and had need of friends' help.
And thus, to say the sooth, began to breed the causes why she took her
full purpose to remain.
  The morning came, and Diomed to Criseyde; and briefly, lest ye
should interrupt my tale, he spoke so well for himself that he allayed
all her sighs, and finally consoled her for the greater part of her
grief. After this, the story tells us, she gave back to him the fair
bay steed which he had won from Troilus; and she gave him a brooch
(she need not have done that!) which Troilus had given her; and, to
console his amorous sorrow, she made him to bear on his lance her
sleeve as a pennon. I find elsewhere in the histories that when Diomed
was hurt through the body by Troilus she wept many a tear, seeing
his wide wounds bleed, and that she took good care in nursing him.
And, to heal him of his bitter grieving, men say- I know not- that she
gave him her heart. But truly the history tells us that woman never
made more lament than she, when she became false to Troilus.
  'Alas!' she said, 'my name for fidelity in love is now clean gone
for evermore! For I have betrayed one of the gentlest that ever was,
and one of the worthiest. Alas! unto the world's end no good word
shall be sung or written of me, so shall books reproach me. Ah, my
name shall be tossed on many tongues, and throughout the world my
knell shall be knolled, and women most of all shall hate me! Alas that
such a case should betide me! They will say that, as much as in me
lay, I have done them dishonor. Though I be not the first that has
done amiss, how helps that to put away my blame? But since I see there
is nothing better and that now is too late to repent, at least I
will be true to Diomed. But, Troilus, since there is no help, and thou
and I are thus parted, still I pray God to bless thee, as truly the
noblest that ever I saw, for faithful service and watchful keeping
of his lady's honor.' At those words she burst out weeping. 'And
certes I shall never hate thee, but thou shalt ever have of me the
love of a friend and my words of praise, though I should live forever!
Truly I should be sorry to see thee in any adversity, and I know
well I leave thee without guilt of thine. But all things shall pass
away. And so I take my leave.'
  How long it was before she forsook him for this Diomed, truly I trow
no author tells it. Let every man now examine his books, and he will
of a surety find no time set down; for though Diomed began betimes
to woo her, yet there was more to do before he won her. Nor would I
chide this unhappy woman farther than the history chides her; her name
is published so far, alas!, that it ought to suffice for her guilt.
And, because she was so sorry for her faithlessness, if I could in any
wise excuse her, in truth I would do it yet for pity.
  Troilus was living through the time, as I have told before, so
well as he could. But often was his heart hot and cold, and chiefly
that same ninth night, on the morrow after which she had promised
him to come again. God wot, full little rest and no desire to sleep
had he that night! The laurel-crowned Phoebus, as he went ever
upward in his course, was beginning to warm the wet waves of the
eastern sea, and Nisus' daughter the lark was singing with lusty
spirit, when Troilus sent after his Pandarus; they went to divert them
on the walls of the town, and to see if they could espy aught of
Criseyde, and till it was nones they stood to watch who should be
coming. Every sort of person coming from afar they said must be she,
till they could see him clearly. Now was Troilus' heart dull, now
light! And thus bemocked stood the two to stare after nothing.
  'For aught I can think,' said Troilus, 'Criseyde surely cannot
come into the town before nones. She has enough to do, I dare be
bound, to escape from her old father at all. He will make her dine,
too, before she goes,- a plague upon him!'
  'It may well be, certainly,' Pandarus answered, 'and therefore let
us dine, I beg you, and after nones you may return.'
  Home they went without more words, and then returned. But long may
they seek before they find what they gape after; Fortune meant to mock
them both.
  'I see well now,' quoth Troilus, 'that she has so long tarried
with her old father that it shall be nigh eve before she comes. Come
forth, I will to the gate. These porters are ever dull of wits, and
I shall find some excuse to make them keep the gates open, even though
she may come late.'
  The day went fast, and evening came, yet no Criseyde came to
Troilus. He looked forth past hedge, tree, and grove, and reached
his head far out over the wall. At last he turned about and spoke: 'By
heaven, Pandarus, I know her meaning now, but I was almost back in
my old woe! This lady shows her wit, of a truth; she means to ride
back privily, she will not have folk foolishly gape at her when she
comes, but she thinks to ride softly into the town at night, and by my
hood, I commend her wisdom! Think it not over long to wait here,
dear brother, we have naught else to do.- And Pandarus, now will you
believe me? By my troth, I see her! Yonder she is! Lift your eyes,
man, can you not see?'
  'Nay, by my honor,' Pandarus answered; 'all wrong, by heaven! Man,
what say you? Where are your eyes? What I see yonder is only a
travelling-cart!'
  'Alas, you say the truth!' said Troilus. 'But surely it is not for
nothing that I feel such joy in my heart now, my thoughts bode some
good; I know not how, but never since I was made felt I such inner
comfort. She comes to-night, I dare stake my life.'
  'It may be, well enough,' answered Pandarus, and held with him in
all that ever he said. But in his own heart he had his thoughts, and
laughed softly, and then said full gravely to himself, 'All that you
are waiting for here is in the moon! Yea, farewell all the snow of
yester-year!'
  The gate-ward began to call the folk who were without the gates, and
bade them drive in their beasts, or else they must remain without
all the night. And far on in the night Troilus turned his horse
homeward with many a tear, for he saw it availed not to remain. But
nevertheless he cheered him with the thought that he had reckoned
the day wrongly, and said, 'I understood her amiss; for the night I
last saw Criseyde she said, "I shall be here, if I can, sweet dear
heart, before the moon now in the Ram pass out of the Lion." Wherefore
she may yet keep all her promise.'
  And on the morrow he went to the gate, and up and down on the walls,
westward and eastward, he made many a turn. But all for naught, his
hope ever deceived him. Wherefore at night he went home at last with
sorrow and sore sighs. Hope fled clean out of his heart, he had
nothing now whereon longer to rely, and so sharp and wondrous strong
were his throes that his heart seemed to bleed for the pain. For
when he saw that she broke her promise and remained so long, he knew
not what to think thereof. The third, fourth, fifth, and sixth days
after the ten days, his heart lay betwixt hope and fear, yet
somewhat trusted still to her old promises. But when he saw she
would not keep to her time, he could find no help except to plan
soon to die. Thereat the wicked spirit (God bless us from him!),
that men call mad Jealousy, crept into his heavy heart; and his
melancholy and his desire to die made him to forsake eating and
drinking, and to flee from every company. This was the life he led all
this time. He was so wasted that scarce could a man know him; he
grew so lean, so pale and wan and feeble, that he walked with a staff.
Thus he wore himself out by his resentment. And whoso asked him
where his trouble was, he said it was all about his heart. Full
often Priam and his dear mother, and his brethren and sisters, asked
him why he was so cast down and what was the cause of all his pain.
But all for naught; he would not lament to them for the true cause,
but said he felt a grievous malady about his heart, and fain would
die.
  So one day when he had laid him down to rest, it befell that in
his sleep be seemed to be walking in a forest to weep for love of
her who was giving him this pain. As he roamed up and down through the
forest, he dreamed he saw a boar with great tushes lying asleep in the
heat of the bright sun, and by this boar, folding it fast in her
arms and continually kissing it, lay his bright lady Criseyde. For
sorrow and rage at this sight he started out of his sleep, and cried
aloud on Pandarus: 'Ah Pandarus! Now I know the beginning and end of
it, and there is no more but that I am a dead man! My bright lady
Criseyde, whom I trusted above every creature, has betrayed me; she
has pleased her heart elsewhere! The blessed gods of their great power
have showed it in my dream. Thus I beheld Criseyde in my dream-,'
and he told him the whole matter.
  'Alas, my Criseyde! What subtlety, what new pleasure, what beauty or
wisdom-! What cause have I given thee for anger? What guilt of mine,
or what dread event, has taken thy thoughts from me, alas! O trust and
faith and confidence! Who has torn Criseyde, all my joy, away from me?
Alas! why have I ever let thee go, and wellnigh started out of my wits
when thou wentest! Who will ever believe in oaths again? God wot,
bright lady, Criseyde, I believed that every word thou spakest was
gospel. But who can better beguile, if he will, than he whom men
most trust? O my Pandarus, what shall I do? Now I fear so sharp a
new pain, that since there is no help now, it were better I slew
myself with my two hands than ever thus to weep. Death would put an
end to the woe which every living day wears me away.'
  'Alack the day that I was born!' cried Pandarus. 'Have I not said
before that many a man is beguiled by dreams? Why?- because folk
expound them amiss! How dare you for any dream say your lady is false,
only out of your own fears? Let this thought be, you understand not
the interpretation of dreams. When you dreamed of this boar, perchance
it may signify that her old grey father is lying in the sunshine at
the point of death, and that she is crying and weeping and kissing him
as he lies on the ground. That is the true way to read your dream!'
  'How can I do then to learn the truth,' said Troilus, 'were it never
so little of it?'
  'Now you speak like a wise man,' replied Pandarus; 'my counsel is,
that since you can write well, you straightway send her a letter,
which shall bring you certainty in place of doubtfulness. And see
now why! For, I dare be bound, if she be untrue I cannot believe
that she will write again; and if she write, you shall soon learn
whether she has the power to come back, or else, if she is hindered,
she will somewhere tell the cause. You have not written to her since
she went, nor she to you. I dare wager, she may know such good cause
that you yourself would readily agree that her tarrying is best for
both of you. Now write her therefore, and you will speedily feel the
truth of this; and that is all there is to do.'
  The two lords agreed in this resolution, and that anon; and
straightway Troilus sat him down and turned it over and over in his
mind how he could best depict his woe to his own dear lady. He wrote
thus:
  'Fresh flower, in whose service alone I have ever been and shall be,
with heart, body, life, desires, thought, and all, I woful wight
recommend me to your noble favor, as steadily as matter fills space,
and in every humble wise that tongue can tell or heart think. May it
please you to remember, dear heart, as you well know, how long ago
it was that you went away and left me in bitter pains. As yet I have
had no remedy, but am ever from day to day more woe-begone, and so
must remain so long as it please you that are spring of my weal and
woe. Wherefore, as one driven by sorrow to write, with timid
faithful heart I write to you of my woe, increasing newly every
hour, and lament as much as I dare, or can express myself. For what is
defaced herein, you may blame the tears which rain from my eyes, which
themselves would speak and lament if they could.
  'I first beseech you not to deem your clear eyes defiled if they
look on this, and that you will vouchsafe to read through this letter.
And if, because my cold cares are slaying my wit, aught amiss should
escape me, forgive it me, my own dear heart! If any lover durst or
might justly complain piteously upon his lady, I trow that I am he:
considering this, that you have tarried these two months amid the
Greek host, where you said you would abide but ten days. But in two
months you have not returned. Yet forasmuch as I must needs be content
with all that contents you, I dare complain no more; but humbly and
with sad sick sighs I must write you of my grievous restless
sorrows, desiring evermore from day to day to know fully, if it be
your pleasure, how you have fared and done in this absence. May God so
increase your welfare, dignity and health that they may ever
unceasingly grow upward! I pray God to fulfill all your heart's
desire, my lady, and grant that you may be pitiful to me as surely
as I am true to you.
  'And if it please you to learn of the estate of one crammed with
every grief, whose woe no wit can depict, I can say no more but that
at the writing of this letter I was alive, yet all ready to let my
woful spirit flit; which I delay to do, and hold it yet in hand, until
I see the tenor of your message to me. My two eyes, which still have
the useless power of sight, are become founts of salt tears. My song
is turned to lamentation for my adversity; my good into harm, my
ease into hell, my joy into woe,- I can say no more, but every joy
or pleasure is turned into its contrary, wherefore I curse my life.
All which you can redress by coming home to Troy, and create in me joy
a thousand times more than ever I had. For never yet was heart so
blithe to be alive as I shall be so soon as I shall see you.
  'And if no sort of compassion move you, yet think on your pledge.
And if my guilt have deserved death, or if you list never again to see
me, yet in guerdon of my past service I beseech you, my heart's
lady, my true loadstar, for the love of God to write me hereupon, that
death may end my struggle. If any other cause delay you, then
recomfort me with your letter. Though your absence be a hell to me,
I will bear my woe with patience and divert me with your letter of
hope. Now, sweet one, leave me not thus lamenting, but write, and with
hope or death deliver me from pain. I know of a surety, my own dear
true heart, that when you next see me Criseyde will not be able to
know me, so have I lost my health and color. Daylight of my heart,
my noble lady, so thirsts my heart ever to behold your beauty that I
scarce hold my life.
  'I say no more, though I have more to say to you than I can express.
Whether you bring me life or death, I pray God send you a joyous life.
So farewell, goodly fresh fair woman, who may order me to life or
death! To your faithfulness I ever recommend me, in such a manner of
health that unless you grant me health I shall have no health. In your
power stands the day when my grave shall wrap me, whenever you will
that it be so. In you is my life, in you is might to save me from
the torture of all grievous pains. And now farewell, my own sweet
heart.'
  This letter was sent forth to Criseyde, and she wrote back in effect
thus; she said piteously that so soon as she could she would indeed
come and mend all that was amiss; yea, she would come,- but she knew
not when. In her letter she made wondrous much of him, and swore she
loved him best of all; all which assurances he found to be but hollow.
Troilus, now thou mayst wear the willow and go whistle! So wags the
world! God shield us from harm, and promote every wight that means
honestly!
  Day and night increased the woe of Troilus for Criseyde's
tarrying, and his hope and strength lessened. He laid him down in
his bed, and neither ate, drank, slept, nor said a word, and
wellnigh went out of his mind, ever imagining that she was
faithless. The dream of which I told would never pass from his
remembrance. He thought he had verily lost his lady, and that Jove
in his watchful providence had showed him in sleep the symbol of her
unfaithfulness and his misfortune, and that this boar was the figure
thereof. Wherefore he sent for the Sibyl his sister, who was named
Cassandra, and told her all his dream and begged her to resolve for
him the mystery of that strong boar with stout tushes. Within a little
while Cassandra expounded his dream to him thus. She first began to
smile, and said:
  'O brother dear, if you desire to learn the truth of this, you
must learn certain old stories, how Fortune has overthrown ancient
lords; by which you will shortly know this boar full well, and of what
stock he is sprung, as men find in books. Diana was wroth because
the Greeks would not do her sacrifice nor set incense afire upon her
altar, and because they so neglected her she avenged herself
wondrous cruelly. For she made a boar, as huge as a stalled ox, to
devour all their corn and vines. To slay this boar all the folk of the
country were raised, amongst whom there came to see the boar a maiden,
one of the most renowned of this world; and Meleager, lord of that
country, so loved this noble blooming maiden that he pursued this boar
till he slew it by his manhood, and sent her the head. From this, as
old books tell us, there arose a strife, and great ill-will; but how
this Meleager died through his mother's deed I will not tell, for it
were too long. And from this lord was Tydeus lineally descended, or
else old books lie.'
  She told also how Tydeus went to the strong city of Thebes to
claim dominion over the city for his fellow Polynices, whose brother
Eteocles held it full wrongfully; this story she told at large. She
told also how Haemonides escaped when Tydeus slew fifty stout knights.
She told all the prophecies word by word, and how the seven kings with
their host besieged the city all about; and told of the holy
serpent, and the well, and the Furies, of Archemorus' burial and
funeral games, and how Amphiaraus fell through the ground, how Tydeus,
lord of the Argives, was slain, how Hippomedon was drowned and
Parthenopaeus died of his wounds, and eke how proud Capaneus was slain
with a thunderbolt. She told him also how each of the brethren,
Eteocles and Polynices, slew the other in a skirmish, and of the
Argives' weeping and woe, and how the town was burnt. And so she
came down from the old histories to Diomed, and thus she spoke:
'This same boar betokens the son of Tydeus, Diomed, who is descended
from Meleager, who slew the boar; and wheresoever your lady is, in
truth this Diomed has her heart, and she his. Weep if you will, or
not! For of a surety Diomed is in and you are out!'
  'You say not the truth,' he said, 'you sorceress, with your false
spirit of prophecy. You deem yourself a great diviner! Now but see
this fanciful fool, that wearies herself to slander ladies! Away
with you, Jove give you sorrow! Before another day you may be proved
false. As well you might slander Alcestis, who of all creatures that
ever were was the loyalest and the best, unless men lie; for when
her husband was in jeopardy of death unless she would die, she chose
to die in his stead and go to hell; and die she did, as the books
say.'
  Cassandra departed, and with savage heart he forgot his woe for
anger at her words. He leaped from his bed, as though a leech had
cured him, and day by day sought and inquired about with all diligence
to learn the truth of this. And thus he endured his lot.
  Fortune, to whom the permutation of things is assigned by the
providence of high Jove, how sovereignty shall flit from folk to folk,
or when a folk shall be smitten, began from day to day to pull away
the bright joyous plumage of Troy till it was bare. During all this,
the term of Hector's life was approaching wondrous fast. The Fates
would that his soul should unbody, and had devised a means to drive it
out, against which it availed him not to contend. On a day he went
to fight, and there met his end, alas! And methinks every sort of
man that practises arms ought to lament the death of one who was so
noble a knight. For whilst he was dragging a fallen king by his
hauberk, Achilles rove him unawares through the mail and through the
body; and thus was this worthy knight brought to his death.
  For him, as old books tell us, such lament was made that tongue
cannot tell it, and most of all was the sorrow of Troilus, next to
Hector the chiefest fount of valor. And in this woe he remained until,
what for sorrow and what for love and unrest, many times a day he bade
his heart break. Nevertheless, for all his despair and dread that
his lady was untrue, his heart ever repaired to her, and, as lovers
do, he sought ever freshly to recover the bright Criseyde, and was
excusing her in his heart, that it was Calchas caused her tarrying.
Oftentimes he half resolved to disguise himself like a pilgrim, and go
to see her. But he could not so transform himself as to be unknown
to discerning folk, nor devise an excuse to serve if he should be
known amongst the Greeks; for which he often wept many a tear.
Oftentimes he wrote newly to her again, and full piteously, for no
sloth withheld him; beseeching her that since he was true she would
return and hold her troth to him. To all which matter upon a day
Criseyde replied, out of pity (or so I take it), and wrote thus:
  'Mirror of goodliness, Cupid's son, sword of knighthood, spring of
nobility! How could a wight in torment and in sickness and dread as
yet send you gladness? I, without heart or health or joy, can
neither send you heart nor health, since I cannot deal with you nor
you with me. My heart's pity has fully understood your letters, the
paper all written over with laments and stained with tears, and how
you require me to come again. As yet this may not be; but why, I
make no mention now for fear lest this letter should be found. God
knows how grievous to me are your unrest and your urgency. You seem
not to take for the best what the gods ordain; nor is aught else,
methinks, in your mind but only your pleasure. But be not wroth, I beg
you.
  'The cause why I tarry is all wicked tongues. For I have heard
much more than I deemed was known, how things have stood betwixt us
two, which I shall amend by dissimulation. And- be not wroth now- I
have understood also how you are at present but deluding me. But no
matter for this now; I cannot believe aught to be in you but all truth
and nobleness. Come I will; but I stand here amid such difficulties
that I cannot appoint what day or what year that shall be. But in fine
I pray you as heartily as I can for your good word ever, and for
your friendship. And truly, whilst my life shall last, you may count
me for a friend. I pray you further not to take it ill that I write
you in few words. Where I am, I dare not make long letters, and I
never yet could write well. Great matters men often express in
little room. The intent is all, and not the length of the letter.
And now farewell, and may God have you in His grace!'
  This letter Troilus thought altogether cold, when he read it, and
sorrowfully sighed. It seemed to him to bode the beginning of
change. But finally he could not believe that she would not keep
what she had promised him, for he who loves well is full loath to give
up love, even though it grieve him. Nevertheless men say that at last,
in spite of anything, a man must see the truth. And right soon such
a case befell, so that Troilus well perceived that she was not so
loyal as she ought to be; and at last he knew certainly that all was
lost that he had been about.
  Troilus was standing one day in his melancholy, full of suspicion of
her for whose love he felt himself dying. And so befell that a sort of
tunic, emblazoned with an escutcheon, was being borne up and down
throughout Troy, as was the custom, before Deiphobus as a token of his
victory. This tunic, as mine author Lollius tells, he had torn the
same day off Diomed. When Troilus saw it he began to take heed,
observing the length and breadth and all the workmanship. As he beheld
it, suddenly his heart grew cold; for he had found within on the
collar a brooch which he had given Criseyde that morning when she
had perforce left Troy, in remembrance of him and of his grief, and
which she had pledged him her faith to keep. Now he knew full well
that his lady was no longer to be trusted.
  He went home and sent speedily after Pandarus, and told him
beginning and end of this new chance and all about the brooch,
complaining of her fickleness of heart, and of his long love and
faithfulness and suffering. He cried aloud upon death to restore his
peace to him. 'O Criseyde,' he cried, 'bright lady, where is thy
pledge, where is thy promise, where is thy love, and thy faithfulness?
Is Diomed now so dear to thee? Alas! If thou wouldst not stand firm in
faith to me, I had trusted that at the least thou wouldst not thus
have deceived me. Who now will ever believe oaths? I would never
have believed ere now that thou, Criseyde, couldst so have changed,
nor that, unless I had done amiss to thee, thy heart was so cruel as
to slay me thus. Alas, thy name for faithfulness is now blotted out,
and that is all my sorrow! Was there no other brooch that thou caredst
to endow thy new love with, but that very brooch that I wet with my
tears and gave thee for a remembrance of me? Thou gavest it, alas!,
for no other cause but scorn, and because thou wouldst thus show
utterly thy meaning. I see that thou hast cast me clean out of thy
mind. And yet for all the world I cannot find it in my heart to
cease loving thee for an hour. Alack! in a cursed time I was born; I
love thee best in all the world, who hast given me all this woe! Now
God send me the grace to meet with this Diomed! Truly if I have
power and opportunity I shall yet make his sides bloody, I hope. O
God, Who oughtest to take heed to advance fidelity and punish wrong,
why wilt not wreak vengeance on this crime? Ah Pandarus, you who
blamed me for trusting dreams and were wont to upbraid me, now if
you will you may see yourself how true is your bright niece! In sundry
forms, God wot, the gods show joy and grief in sleep, and by my
dream this is proved. And certainly, for final resolution,
henceforth as I can I will seek my own death upon the field, and I
care not how soon be the day. But truly, Criseyde, sweet maiden,
whom I have ever loved with all my might, I have not deserved that
thou shouldst do thus!'
  Pandarus, hearing all this and knowing that he spoke the truth,
answered him not a word, sorry for his friend's sorrow and shamed
for his niece. Astonied by these two causes, he stood speechless, as
still as a stone. But at last he spoke: 'Dear brother, I can do no
more for you. What should I say? Indeed I hate Criseyde! God wot, I
shall hate her evermore. What you once besought me to do I did, having
no regard to my honor nor to my peace. If I did aught to your
pleasure, I am glad. And for this betrayal now, God knows it is a
sorrow to me! Of a surety, to ease your heart I fain would amend this,
if I knew how. I pray almighty God to deliver her soon out of this
world! I can say no more.'
  However great the sorrow and lamentation of Troilus, Fortune held
ever on her course; Criseyde loved the son of Tydeus, and Troilus must
weep in cold cares. Such is this world! In any station of life is
but little heart's ease, whoso will look to it. God grant us to make
the best of it!
  In many a cruel battle was seen the knighthood and mighty strength
of the noble Troilus, as men may read in these old books, and full
cruelly day and night the Greeks must pay for his wrath. Most of all
he sought after Diomed, and oftentimes I find they came together
with bloody strokes and huge words, assaying how their spears were
sharpened. Often in savage fury, God wot, Troilus beat upon Diomed's
helmet. Nevertheless Fortune would not that either should die by the
other's hand.
  If I had undertaken to write of the prowess of this valiant
knight, I would tell now of his battles. But forasmuch as I began
first to write of his love, I have told of that as well as I could.
Whoso would hear of his noble deeds, let him read Dares; he can tell
them all together. And I beseech every bright-faced lady, and every
noble dame, whatso she be, that they be not wroth with me for
Criseyde's guilt, though she were untrue. Ye may see her guilt in
other books before mine; and more gladly I will write, if ye please to
have me, of the faithfulness of Penelope and good Alcestis. Nor
write I thus of faith and falsehood only for the sake of men, but most
of all for those women who are betrayed through false folk. Those
who through great subtlety and wit betray you, God give them sorrow,
amen! It is this has moved me to write; and, in fine, I pray you all
beware of men and hearken to what I say.

  Go, my little book! Go, my little tragedy! Be not a rival of other
poems, but be humble amongst them all, and kiss their steps wherever
you see Virgil and Ovid go, and Homer, Statius, and Lucan. May God yet
send thy maker power, before he die, to use his pen in some comedy!
And because there is so great diversity in English and in the
writing of our speech, pray also to God that none copy thee wrong
nor mar thy metre through defect of his tongue. Wheresoever thou be
sung or read, beseech God that thou be understood. But now back
again to my story.

  The Greeks paid dearly, as I began to tell you, for the wrath of
Troilus, who was without any peer in his day save Hector, so far as
I can learn. His hand slew thousands. But alack and alack (save that
it was God's will)!, the fierce Achilles mercilessly slew him. And
when he was slain thus, his freed spirit went full blissfully up
into the eighth sphere of heaven, leaving all the elements in their
spheres below him. Thence he gazed long upon the wandering stars,
hearkening to the harmony of sounds full of heavenish melody, and then
down upon this little spot of earth embraced by the sea; and then he
began utterly to despise this wretched world, and held all to be
vanity in comparison to the full felicity of heaven above. At length
he cast his eyes down upon the spot where he was slain, and laughed
within himself at the grief of them that wept so for his death, and
condemned all our deeds who follow so hard after blind pleasures which
cannot endure, when we should cast our whole heart on heaven. So on he
went to the place where Mercury allotted him a dwelling. Thus ended
Troilus for love, thus ended his worth and his royal station, thus
ended his joyousness and his nobility; to such an end leads this false
world's instability. Thus, as I have told, began his loving of
Criseyde; and in this wise he died.

  O young lusty folk, youths and maids, in whom love ever grows up
with your age, get you home from worldly vanity! Cast up the eyes of
your heart to that God that made you after His image, and think that
all this world is but a market-fair, and passes as soon as the sweet
flowers. And love Him who for pure love, to redeem our souls, first
died upon the cross, and rose again, and now sits on high in heaven.
He will fail no creature, of that be sure, who will lean his heart
wholly on Him. And since He is most gentle and best to love, what need
to seek feigned loves?
  Here in this book you may see the pagans' cursed old rites, and
how little their gods avail. See here the end of this wretched world's
desires! See here the end and guerdon for toil given by Jove,
Apollo, Mars, and such rabble! And likewise the manner of old
clerks' speech in poetry you may see here. O moral Gower, I address
this book to thee, and to thee, philosophical Strode, that ye may
vouchsafe to correct it, where need is, of your righteous zeal and
benignity.
  And now to that true Christ that died on the rood I pray with all my
heart for mercy, and to the Lord I say thus: Thou One, Two, Three,
eternally existing, that ever in Three, Two, One reignest
uncircumscribed, yet circumscribest all, defend us from our foes,
visible and invisible. And make us, Jesu, worthy of Thy mercy, for the
love of Thy benign maiden-mother.

                 «Explicit Liber Troili et Criseydis.»


{GLOSSARY
                               Glossary


  AMPHIARAUS. A seer (hence Chaucer calls him a bishop) swallowed up
by the earth at the siege of Thebes.
  ASPECT. A planet's aspect is its position with reference to the
others; on this (according to astrology) depends its influence.
  ATROPOS. One of the three Fates, who cuts off the thread of life.
  ATTRITION. A lesser degree of contrition, the minimum requirement
for a good confession.
  «BENEDICITE.» "O bless ye [the Lord]": a sort of greeting used by
monks, then becoming a mild ejaculation.
  CHURL. The man in the moon,- a peasant carrying a bundle of thorns.
  CLERK. An ecclesiastic, acolyte, learned man, or student.
  COMBUST. Deprived of power by being too near the sun (said of a
planet).
  CYPRIAN DAME. Venus, the goddess.
  DARES and DICTYS. The supposed authors of two Latin accounts of
the Trojan War, dating from the early Christian centuries; the chief
authorities on it in the Middle Ages.
  GOWER. John Gower (about 1332-1408), a friend of Chaucer's and a
well-known poet.
  "HAZEL-WOODS SHAKE." «i.e.,» "that is no news."
  HERSE. Daughter to Cecrops, mythical founder of Athens; beloved by
Mercury.
  LACHESIS. The second of the three Fates; her office was to draw
out the thread of life.
  LOLLIUS. No such writer is known; some think Chaucer deliberately
substituted this name for Boccaccio's, as an authority on the Trojan
War.
  MANES. According to Roman mythology, the spirits of the dead;
regarded by Chaucer as infernal goddesses.
  MYRRHA. A Cyprian princess who (according to Ovid) was changed to
a myrrh-tree and wept tears of myrrh.
  NONES. One of the breviary services, originally said about 3 P.M.,
then at noon (whence our word).
  «PONS ASINORUM.» "The bridge of asses,"- the nickname of a
proposition in the first book of Euclid; by a rough translation of
Chaucer's words, it represents Criseyde's state of perplexity.
  PRIME. One of the breviary services, said about 9 A.M. (originally
at the first hour). Before clocks were common, people often told
time from the ringing of the church-bells.
  STRODE. Probably an Oxford philosopher, later the tutor of Chaucer's
son Lewis.
  VIGIL. Originally a devout watching, afterwards merrymaking,
before a church-festival or a burial. In the latter case it was
regarded as similar to the funeral-games of the ancients.
  WADE. A hero of Teutonic antiquity, whose story is lost.
  ZEUXIS. Apparently the Athenian painter, whom Chaucer once wrongly
took to be a writer.


                               THE END