And gan to call, and dress1 him to arise, 1prepare
Rememb’ring him his errand was to do’n
From Troilus, and eke his great emprise;
And cast, and knew in 1good plight1 was the Moon 1favourable aspect1
To do voyage, and took his way full soon
Unto his niece’s palace there beside
Now Janus, god of entry, thou him guide!
Pandarus finds his niece, with two other ladies, in a paved parlour, listening to a maiden who reads aloud the story of the Siege of Thebes. Greeting the company, he is welcomed by Cressida, who tells him that for three nights she has dreamed of him. After some lively talk about the book they had been reading, Pandarus asks his niece to do away her hood, to show her face bare, to lay aside the book, to rise up and dance, “and let us do to May some observance.” Cressida cries out, “God forbid!” and asks if he is mad — if that is a widow’s life, whom it better becomes to sit in a cave and read of holy saints’ lives. Pandarus intimates that he could tell her something which could make her merry; but he refuses to gratify her curiosity; and, by way of the siege and of Hector, “that was the towne’s wall, and Greekes’ yerd” or scourging-rod, the conversation is brought round to Troilus, whom Pandarus highly extols as “the wise worthy Hector the second.” She has, she says, already heard Troilus praised for his bravery “of them that her were liefest praised be” [by whom it would be most welcome to her to be praised].
“Ye say right sooth, y-wis,” quoth Pandarus;
For yesterday, who so had with him been,
Might have wonder’d upon Troilus;
For never yet so thick a swarm of been1 1bees
Ne flew, as did of Greekes from him flee’n;
And through the field, in ev’ry wighte’s ear,
There was no cry but ‘Troilus is here.’
“Now here, now there, he hunted them so fast,
There was but Greekes’ blood; and Troilus
Now him he hurt, now him adown he cast;
Ay where he went it was arrayed thus:
He was their death, and shield of life for us,
That as that day there durst him none withstand,
While that he held his bloody sword in hand.”
Pandarus makes now a show of taking leave, but Cressida detains him, to speak of her affairs; then, the business talked over, he would again go, but first again asks his niece to arise and dance, and cast her widow’s garments to mischance, because of the glad fortune that has befallen her. More curious than ever, she seeks to find out Pandarus’ secret; but he still parries her curiosity, skilfully hinting all the time at her good fortune, and the wisdom of seizing on it when offered. In the end he tells her that the noble Troilus so loves her, that with her it lies to make him live or die — but if Troilus dies, Pandarus shall die with him; and then she will have “fished fair.” He beseeches mercy for his friend:
“1Woe worth1 the faire gemme virtueless! 1evil befall!1
Woe worth the herb also that 1doth no boot!1 1has no remedial power1
Woe worth the beauty that is rutheless!1 1merciless
Woe worth that wight that treads each under foot!
And ye that be of beauty 1crop and root1 1perfection
If therewithal in you there be no ruth,1 1pity
Then is it harm ye live, by my truth!”
Pandarus makes only the slight request that she will show Troilus somewhat better cheer, and receive visits from him, that his life may be saved; urging that, although a man be soon going to the temple, nobody will think that he eats the images; and that “such love of friends reigneth in all this town.”
Cressida, which that heard him in this wise,
Thought: “I shall feele1 what he means, y-wis;” 1test
“Now, eme1 quoth she, “what would ye me devise? 1uncle
What is your rede1 that I should do of this?” 1counsel, opinion
“That is well said,” quoth he;” certain best it is
That ye him love again for his loving,
As love for love is 1skilful guerdoning.1 1reasonable recompense1
“Think eke how elde1 wasteth ev’ry hour 1age
In each of you a part of your beauty;
And therefore, ere that age do you devour,
Go love, for, old, there will no wight love thee
Let this proverb a lore1 unto you be: 1lesson
‘“Too late I was ware,” quoth beauty when it past;
And 1elde daunteth danger1 at the last.’ 1old age overcomes disdain1
“The kinge’s fool is wont to cry aloud, When that he thinks a woman bears her high, ‘So longe may ye liven, and all proud, Till crowes’ feet be wox1 under your eye! 1grown And send you then a mirror 1in to pry1 1to look in1 In which ye may your face see a-morrow!1 1in the morning 1I keep then wishe you no more sorrow.’”1 1I care to wish you nothing worse1 Weeping, Cressida reproaches her uncle for giving her such counsel; whereupon Pandarus, starting up, threatens to kill himself, and would fain depart, but that his niece detains him, and, with much reluctance, promises to “make Troilus good cheer in honour.” Invited by Cressida to tell how first he know her lover’s woe, Pandarus then relates two soliloquies which he had accidentally overheard, and in which Troilus had poured out all the sorrow of his passion.
With this he took his leave, and home he went
Ah! Lord, so was he glad and well-begone!1 1happy
Cresside arose, no longer would she stent,1 1stay
But straight into her chamber went anon,
And sat her down, as still as any stone,
And ev’ry word gan up and down to wind
That he had said, as it came to her mind.
And wax’d somedeal astonish’d in her thought,
Right for the newe case; but when that she
1Was full advised,1 then she found right naught 1had fully considered1
Of peril, why she should afeared be:
For a man may love, of possibility,
A woman so, that his heart may to-brest,1 1break utterly
And she not love again, 1but if her lest.1 1unless it so please her1
But as she sat alone, and thoughte thus,
In field arose a skirmish all without;
And men cried in the street then:”
Troilus hath right now put to flight the Greekes’ rout.”1 1host
With that gan all the meinie1 for to shout: 1(Cressida’s) household
“Ah! go we see, cast up the lattice wide,
For through this street he must to palace ride;
“For other way is from the gates none,
Of Dardanus, where open is the chain.”
With that came he, and all his folk anon,
An easy pace riding, in 1routes twain,1 1two troops1
Right as his 1happy day1 was, sooth to sayn: 1good fortune 1
For which men say may not disturbed be
What shall betiden1 of necessity. 1happen
This Troilus sat upon his bay steed
All armed, save his head, full richely,
And wounded was his horse, and gan to bleed,
For which he rode a pace full softely
But such a knightly sighte1 truly 1aspect
As was on him, was not, withoute fail,
To look on Mars, that god is of Battaile.
So like a man of armes, and a knight,
He was to see, full fill’d of high prowess;
For both he had a body, and a might
To do that thing, as well as hardiness;1 1courage
And eke to see him in his gear1 him dress, 1armour
So fresh, so young, so wieldy1 seemed he, 1active
It was a heaven on him for to see.1 1look
His helmet was to-hewn in twenty places,
That by a tissue1 hung his back behind; 1riband
His shield to-dashed was with swords and maces,
In which men might many an arrow find,
That thirled1 had bo
th horn, and nerve, and rind; 1pierced
And ay the people cried, “Here comes our joy,
And, next his brother, holder up of Troy.”
For which he wax’d a little red for shame,
When he so heard the people on him cryen
That to behold it was a noble game,
How soberly he cast adown his eyen:
Cresside anon gan all his cheer espien,
And let it in her heart so softly sink,
That to herself she said, “Who gives me drink?”
For of her owen thought she wax’d all red,
Rememb’ring her right thus: “Lo! this is he
Which that mine uncle swears he might be dead,
But1 I on him have mercy and pity:” 1unless
And with that thought for pure shame she
Gan in her head to pull, and that full fast,
While he and all the people forth by pass’d.
And gan to cast,1 and rollen up and down 1ponder
Within her thought his excellent prowess,
And his estate, and also his renown,
His wit, his shape, and eke his gentleness
But most her favour was, for his distress
Was all for her, and thought it were ruth
To slay such one, if that he meant but truth.
. . . . . . . . . .
And, Lord! so gan she in her heart argue
Of this mattere, of which I have you told
And what to do best were, and what t’eschew,
That plaited she full oft in many a fold.
Now was her hearte warm, now was it cold.
And what she thought of, somewhat shall I write,
As to mine author listeth to endite.
She thoughte first, that Troilus’ person
She knew by sight, and eke his gentleness;
And saide thus: 1”All were it not to do’n,’1 1although it were
To grant him love, yet for the worthiness impossible1
It were honour, with play1 and with gladness, 1pleasing entertainment
In honesty with such a lord to deal,
For mine estate,1 and also for his heal.2 1reputation 2health
“Eke well I wot1 my kinge’s son is he; 1know
And, since he hath to see me such delight,
If I would utterly his sighte flee,
Parauntre1 he might have me in despite, 1peradventure
Through which I mighte stand in worse plight.
Now were I fool, me hate to purchase1 1obtain for myself
Withoute need, where I may stand in grace,1 1favour
“In ev’rything, I wot, there lies measure;1 1a happy medium
For though a man forbidde drunkenness,
He not forbids that ev’ry creature
Be drinkeless for alway, as I guess;
Eke, since I know for me is his distress,
I oughte not for that thing him despise,
Since it is so he meaneth in good wise.
“Now set a case, that hardest is, y-wis,
Men mighte deeme1 that he loveth me; 1believe
What dishonour were it unto me, this?
May I 1him let of1 that? Why, nay, pardie! 1prevent him from1
I know also, and alway hear and see,
Men love women all this town about;
Be they the worse? Why, nay, withoute doubt!
“Nor me to love a wonder is it not;
For well wot I myself, so God me speed! —
1All would I1 that no man wist of this thought — 1although I would1
I am one of the fairest, without drede,1 1doubt
And goodlieste, who so taketh heed;
And so men say in all the town of Troy;
What wonder is, though he on me have joy?
“I am mine owen woman, well at ease,
I thank it God, as after mine estate,
Right young, and stand untied in 1lusty leas,1 1pleasant leash
Withoute jealousy, or such debate: (of love)1
Shall none husband say to me checkmate;
For either they be full of jealousy,
Or masterful, or love novelty.
“What shall I do? to what fine1 live I thus? 1end
Shall I not love, in case if that me lest?
What? pardie! I am not religious;
And though that I mine hearte set at rest
And keep alway mine honour and my name,
By all right I may do to me no shame.”
But right as when the sunne shineth bright
In March, that changeth oftentime his face,
And that a cloud is put with wind to flight,
Which overspreads the sun as for a space;
A cloudy thought gan through her hearte pace,1 1pass
That overspread her brighte thoughtes all,
So that for fear almost she gan to fall.
The cloudy thought is of the loss of liberty and security, the stormy life, and the malice of wicked tongues, that love entails:
[But] after that her thought began to clear,
And saide, “He that nothing undertakes
Nothing achieveth, be him 1loth or dear.”1 1unwilling or desirous1
And with another thought her hearte quakes;
Then sleepeth hope, and after dread awakes,
Now hot, now cold; but thus betwixt the tway1 1two
She rist1 her up, and wente forth to play.2 1rose 2take recreation
Adown the stair anon right then she went
Into a garden, with her nieces three,
And up and down they made many a went,1 1winding, turn
Flexippe and she, Tarke, Antigone,
To playe, that it joy was for to see;
And other of her women, a great rout,1 1troop
Her follow’d in the garden all about.
This yard was large, and railed the alleys,
And shadow’d well with blossomy boughes green,
And benched new, and sanded all the ways,
In which she walked arm and arm between;
Till at the last Antigone the sheen1 1bright, lovely
Gan on a Trojan lay to singe clear,
That it a heaven was her voice to hear.
Antigone’s song is of virtuous love for a noble object; and it is singularly fitted to deepen the impression made on the mind of Cressida by the brave aspect of Troilus, and by her own cogitations. The singer, having praised the lover and rebuked the revilers of love, proceeds:
“What is the Sunne worse of his 1kind right,1 1true nature1
Though that a man, for feebleness of eyen,
May not endure to see on it for bright?
Or Love the worse, tho’ wretches on it cryen?
No weal1 is worth, that may no sorrow drien;2 1happiness 2endure
And forthy,1 who that hath a head of verre,2 1therefore 2glass
From cast of stones ware him in the werre.
“But I, with all my heart and all my might,
As I have lov’d, will love unto my last
My deare heart, and all my owen knight,
In which my heart y-growen is so fast,
And his in me, that it shall ever last
1All dread I1 first to love him begin, 1although I feared1
Now wot I well there is no pain therein.”
Cressida sighs, and asks Antigone whether there is such bliss among these lovers, as they can fair endite; Antigone replies confidently in the affirmative; and Cressida answers nothing, “but every worde which she heard she gan to printen in her hearte fast.” Night draws on:
The daye’s honour, and the heaven’s eye,
The nighte’s foe, — all this call I the Sun, —
Gan westren1 fast, and downward for to wry,2 1go west 2turn
As he that had his daye’s course y-run;
And white thinges gan to waxe dun
For lack of light, and starres to appear;
Then she and all her folk went home in fere.1 1in compa
ny
So, when it liked her to go to rest,
And voided1 were those that voiden ought, 1gone out (of the house)
She saide, that to sleepe well her lest.1 1pleased
Her women soon unto her bed her brought;
When all was shut, then lay she still and thought
Of all these things the manner and the wise;
Rehearse it needeth not, for ye be wise.
A nightingale upon a cedar green,
Under the chamber wall where as she lay,
Full loude sang against the moone sheen,
Parauntre,1 in his birde’s wise, a lay 1perchance
Of love, that made her hearte fresh and gay;
Hereat hark’d1 she so long in good intent, 1listened
Till at the last the deade sleep her hent.1 1seized
And as she slept, anon right then 1her mette1 1she dreamed1
How that an eagle, feather’d white as bone,
Under her breast his longe clawes set,
And out her heart he rent, and that anon,
And did1 his heart into her breast to go’n, 1caused
Of which no thing she was 1abash’d nor smert;1 1amazed nor hurt1
And forth he flew, with hearte left for heart.
Leaving Cressida to sleep, the poet returns to Troilus and his zealous friend — with whose stratagems to bring the two lovers together the remainder of the Second Book is occupied. Pandarus counsels Troilus to write a letter to his mistress, telling her how he “fares amiss,” and “beseeching her of ruth;” he will bear the letter to his niece; and, if Troilus will ride past Cressida’s house, he will find his mistress and his friend sitting at a window. Saluting Pandarus, and not tarrying, his passage will give occasion for some talk of him, which may make his ears glow. With respect to the letter, Pandarus gives some shrewd hints:
“Touching thy letter, thou art wise enough,
I wot thou 1n’ilt it dignely endite1 1wilt not write it haughtily1
Or make it with these argumentes tough,
Nor scrivener-like, nor craftily it write;
Beblot it with thy tears also a lite;1 1little
And if thou write a goodly word all soft,
Though it be good, rehearse it not too oft.
“For though the beste harper 1pon live1 1alive
Would on the best y-sounded jolly harp
That ever was, with all his fingers five
Touch ay one string, or 1ay one warble harp,1 1always play one tune1
Were his nailes pointed ne’er so sharp,
He shoulde maken ev’ry wight to dull1 1to grow bored
To hear his glee, and of his strokes full.
“Nor jompre1 eke no discordant thing y-fere,2 1jumble 2together
Collected Works of Giovanni Boccaccio Page 422
