The Canterbury Tales, and Other Poems Part 104

Me thinketh thus, O lady mine Cresside, That since I first hand on your bridle laid, When ye out came of Troye by the morrow, Ne might I never see you but in sorrow.

"I cannot say what may the cause be, But if for love of some Trojan it were; *The which right sore would a-thinke me* *which it would much That ye for any wight that dwelleth there pain me to think*

Should [ever] spill* a quarter of a tear, *shed Or piteously yourselfe so beguile;* *deceive For dreadeless* it is not worth the while. *undoubtedly

"The folk of Troy, as who saith, all and some In prison be, as ye yourselfe see; From thence shall not one alive come For all the gold betwixte sun and sea; Truste this well, and understande me; There shall not one to mercy go alive, All* were he lord of worldes twice five. *although

"What will ye more, lovesome lady dear?

Let Troy and Trojan from your hearte pace; Drive out that bitter hope, and make good cheer, And call again the beauty of your face, That ye with salte teares so deface; For Troy is brought into such jeopardy, That it to save is now no remedy.

"And thinke well, ye shall in Greekes find A love more perfect, ere that it be night, Than any Trojan is, and more kind, And better you to serve will do his might; And, if ye vouchesafe, my lady bright, I will be he, to serve you, myselve, -- Yea, lever* than be a lord of Greekes twelve!" *rather

And with that word he gan to waxe red, And in his speech a little while he quoke,* *quaked; trembled And cast aside a little with his head, And stint a while; and afterward he woke, And soberly on her he threw his look, And said, "I am, albeit to you no joy, As gentle* man as any wight in Troy. *high-born

"But, hearte mine! since that I am your man,* *leigeman, subject And [you] be the first of whom I seeke grace, (in love) To serve you as heartily as I can, And ever shall, while I to live have s.p.a.ce, So, ere that I depart out of this place, Ye will me grante that I may, to-morrow, At better leisure, telle you my sorrow."

Why should I tell his wordes that he said?

He spake enough for one day at the mest;* *most It proveth well he spake so, that Cresseide Granted upon the morrow, at his request, Farther to speake with him, at the least, So that he would not speak of such mattere; And thus she said to him, as ye may hear:

As she that had her heart on Troilus So faste set, that none might it arace;* *uproot <83> And strangely* she spake, and saide thus; *distantly, unfriendlily "O Diomede! I love that ilke place Where I was born; and Jovis, for his grace, Deliver it soon of all that doth it care!* *afflict G.o.d, for thy might, so *leave it* well to fare!" *grant it*

She knows that the Greeks would fain wreak their wrath on Troy, if they might; but that shall never befall: she knows that there are Greeks of high condition -- though as worthy men would be found in Troy: and she knows that Diomede could serve his lady well.

"But, as to speak of love, y-wis," she said, "I had a lord, to whom I wedded was, <84> He whose mine heart was all, until he died; And other love, as help me now Pallas, There in my heart nor is, nor ever was; And that ye be of n.o.ble and high kindred, I have well heard it tellen, out of dread.* *doubt

"And that doth* me to have so great a wonder *causeth That ye will scornen any woman so; Eke, G.o.d wot, love and I be far asunder; I am disposed bet, so may I go,* *fare or prosper Unto my death to plain and make woe; What I shall after do I cannot say, But truely as yet *me list not play.* *I am not disposed *for sport "Mine heart is now in tribulatioun; And ye in armes busy be by day; Hereafter, when ye wonnen have the town, Parauntre* then, so as it happen may, *peradventure That when I see that I never *ere sey,* *saw before*

Then will I work that I never ere wrought; This word to you enough sufficen ought.

"To-morrow eke will I speak with you fain,* *willingly So that ye touche naught of this mattere; And when you list, ye may come here again, And ere ye go, thus much I say you here: As help me Pallas, with her haires clear, If that I should of any Greek have ruth, It shoulde be yourselfe, by my truth!

"I say not therefore that I will you love; *Nor say not nay;* but, in conclusioun, *nor say I that I meane well, by G.o.d that sits above!" I will not*

And therewithal she cast her eyen down, And gan to sigh, and said; "O Troye town!

Yet bid* I G.o.d, in quiet and in rest *pray I may you see, or *do my hearte brest!"* *cause my heart to break*

But in effect, and shortly for to say, This Diomede all freshly new again Gan pressen on, and fast her mercy pray; And after this, the soothe for to sayn, Her glove he took, of which he was full fain, And finally, when it was waxen eve, And all was well, he rose and took his leave.

Cressida retired to rest:

Returning in her soul ay up and down The wordes of this sudden Diomede,<85> His great estate,* the peril of the town, *rank And that she was alone, and hadde need Of friendes' help; and thus began to dread The causes why, the soothe for to tell, That she took fully the purpose for to dwell.* *remain (with the Greeks) The morrow came, and, ghostly* for to speak, *plainly This Diomede is come unto Cresseide; And shortly, lest that ye my tale break, So well he for himselfe spake and said, That all her sighes sore adown he laid; And finally, the soothe for to sayn, He refte* her the great** of all her pain. *took away **the greater part of And after this, the story telleth us That she him gave the faire baye steed The which she ones won of Troilus; And eke a brooch (and that was little need) That Troilus' was, she gave this Diomede; And eke, the bet from sorrow him to relieve, She made him wear a pensel* of her sleeve. *pendant <86>

I find eke in the story elleswhere, When through the body hurt was Diomede By Troilus, she wept many a tear, When that she saw his wide woundes bleed, And that she took to keepe* him good heed, *tend, care for And, for to heal him of his sorrow's smart, Men say, I n'ot,* that she gave him her heart. *know not

And yet, when pity had thus completed the triumph of inconstancy, she made bitter moan over her falseness to one of the n.o.blest and worthiest men that ever was; but it was now too late to repent, and at all events she resolved that she would be true to Diomede -- all the while weeping for pity of the absent Troilus, to whom she wished every happiness. The tenth day, meantime, had barely dawned, when Troilus, accompanied by Pandarus, took his stand on the walls, to watch for the return of Cressida. Till noon they stood, thinking that every corner from afar was she; then Troilus said that doubtless her old father bore the parting ill, and had detained her till after dinner; so they went to dine, and returned to their vain observation on the walls. Troilus invented all kinds of explanations for his mistress's delay; now, her father would not let her go till eve; now, she would ride quietly into the town after nightfall, not to be observed; now, he must have mistaken the day. For five or six days he watched, still in vain, and with decreasing hope.

Gradually his strength decayed, until he could walk only with a staff; answering the wondering inquiries of his friends, by saying that he had a grievous malady about his heart. One day he dreamed that in a forest he saw Cressida in the embrace of a boar; and he had no longer doubt of her falsehood. Pandarus, however, explained away the dream to mean merely that Cressida was detained by her father, who might be at the point of death; and he counselled the disconsolate lover to write a letter, by which he might perhaps get at the truth. Troilus complied, entreating from his mistress, at the least, a "letter of hope;" and the lady answered, that she could not come now, but would so soon as she might; at the same time "making him great feast," and swearing that she loved him best -- "of which he found but bottomless behest [which he found but groundless promises]." Day by day increased the woe of Troilus; he laid himself in bed, neither eating, nor drinking, nor sleeping, nor speaking, almost distracted by the thought of Cressida's unkindness. He related his dream to his sister Ca.s.sandra, who told him that the boar betokened Diomede, and that, wheresoever his lady was, Diornede certainly had her heart, and she was his: "weep if thou wilt, or leave, for, out of doubt, this Diomede is in, and thou art out." Troilus, enraged, refused to believe Ca.s.sandra's interpretation; as well, he cried, might such a story be credited of Alcestis, who devoted her life for her husband; and in his wrath he started from bed, "as though all whole had him y-made a leach [physician]," resolving to find out the truth at all hazards. The death of Hector meanwhile enhanced the sorrow which he endured; but he found time to write often to Cressida, beseeching her to come again and hold her truth; till one day his false mistress, out of pity, wrote him again, in these terms:

"Cupide's son, ensample of goodlihead,* *beauty, excellence O sword of knighthood, source of gentleness!

How might a wight in torment and in dread, And healeless,* you send as yet gladness? *devoid of health I hearteless, I sick, I in distress?

Since ye with me, nor I with you, may deal, You neither send I may nor heart nor heal.

"Your letters full, the paper all y-plainted,* *covered with Commoved have mine heart's pitt; complainings I have eke seen with teares all depainted Your letter, and how ye require me To come again; the which yet may not be; But why, lest that this letter founden were, No mention I make now for fear.

"Grievous to me, G.o.d wot, is your unrest, Your haste,* and that the G.o.ddes' ordinance *impatience It seemeth not ye take as for the best; Nor other thing is in your remembrance, As thinketh me, but only your pleasance; But be not wroth, and that I you beseech, For that I tarry is *all for wicked speech.* *to avoid malicious gossip*

"For I have heard well more than I wend* *weened, thought Touching us two, how thinges have stood, Which I shall with dissimuling amend; And, be not wroth, I have eke understood How ye ne do but holde me on hand; <87> But now *no force,* I cannot in you guess *no matter*

But alle truth and alle gentleness.

"Comen I will, but yet in such disjoint* *jeopardy, critical I stande now, that what year or what day position That this shall be, that can I not appoint; But in effect I pray you, as I may, For your good word and for your friends.h.i.+p ay; For truely, while that my life may dure, As for a friend, ye may *in me a.s.sure.* *depend on me*

"Yet pray I you, *on evil ye not take* *do not take it ill*

That it is short, which that I to you write; I dare not, where I am, well letters make; Nor never yet ne could I well endite; Eke *great effect men write in place lite;* *men write great matter Th' intent is all, and not the letter's s.p.a.ce; in little s.p.a.ce*

And fare now well, G.o.d have you in his grace!

"La Vostre C."

Though he found this letter "all strange," and thought it like "a kalendes of change," <88> Troilus could not believe his lady so cruel as to forsake him; but he was put out of all doubt, one day that, as he stood in suspicion and melancholy, he saw a "coat- armour" borne along the street, in token of victory, before Deiphobus his brother. Deiphobus had won it from Diomede in battle that day; and Troilus, examining it out of curiosity, found within the collar a brooch which he had given to Cressida on the morning she left Troy, and which she had pledged her faith to keep for ever in remembrance of his sorrow and of him. At this fatal discovery of his lady's untruth,

Great was the sorrow and plaint of Troilus; But forth her course Fortune ay gan to hold; Cressida lov'd the son of Tydeus, And Troilus must weep in cares cold.

Such is the world, whoso it can behold!

In each estate is little hearte's rest; G.o.d lend* us each to take it for the best! *grant

In many a cruel battle Troilus wrought havoc among the Greeks, and often he exchanged blows and bitter words with Diomede, whom he always specially sought; but it was not their lot that either should fall by the other's hand. The poet's purpose, however, he tells us, is to relate, not the warlike deeds of Troilus, which Dares has fully told, but his love-fortunes:

Beseeching ev'ry lady bright of hue, And ev'ry gentle woman, *what she be,* *whatsoever she be*

Albeit that Cressida was untrue, That for that guilt ye be not wroth with me; Ye may her guilt in other bookes see; And gladder I would writen, if you lest, Of Penelope's truth, and good Alceste.

Nor say I not this only all for men, But most for women that betrayed be Through false folk (G.o.d give them sorrow, Amen!) That with their greate wit and subtilty Betraye you; and this commoveth me To speak; and in effect you all I pray, Beware of men, and hearken what I say.

Go, little book, go, little tragedy!

There G.o.d my maker, yet ere that I die, So send me might to make some comedy!

But, little book, *no making thou envy,* *be envious of no poetry* <89> But subject be unto all poesy; And kiss the steps, where as thou seest s.p.a.ce, Of Virgil, Ovid, Homer, Lucan, Stace.

And, for there is so great diversity In English, and in writing of our tongue, So pray I G.o.d, that none miswrite thee, Nor thee mismetre for default of tongue!

And read whereso thou be, or elles sung, That thou be understanden, G.o.d I 'seech!* *beseech But yet to purpose of my *rather speech.* *earlier subject* <90>

The wrath, as I began you for to say, Of Troilus the Greekes boughte dear; For thousandes his handes *made dey,* *made to die*

As he that was withouten any peer, Save in his time Hector, as I can hear; But, well-away! save only G.o.dde's will, Dispiteously him slew the fierce Achill'.

And when that he was slain in this mannere, His lighte ghost* full blissfully is went *spirit Up to the hollowness of the seventh sphere <91> In converse leaving ev'ry element; And there he saw, with full advis.e.m.e.nt,* *observation, understanding Th' erratic starres heark'ning harmony, With soundes full of heav'nly melody.

And down from thennes fast he gan advise* *consider, look on This little spot of earth, that with the sea Embraced is; and fully gan despise This wretched world, and held all vanity, *To respect of the plein felicity* *in comparison with That is in heav'n above; and, at the last, the full felicity*

Where he was slain his looking down he cast.

And in himself he laugh'd right at the woe Of them that wepte for his death so fast; And d.a.m.ned* all our works, that follow so *condemned The blinde l.u.s.t, the which that may not last, And shoulden* all our heart on heaven cast; *while we should And forth he wente, shortly for to tell, Where as Mercury sorted* him to dwell. *allotted <92>

Such fine* hath, lo! this Troilus for love! *end Such fine hath all his *greate worthiness!* *exalted royal rank*

Such fine hath his estate royal above!

Such fine his l.u.s.t,* such fine hath his n.o.bless! *pleasure Such fine hath false worlde's brittleness!* *fickleness, instability And thus began his loving of Cresside, As I have told; and in this wise he died.

O young and freshe folke, *he or she,* *of either s.e.x*

In which that love upgroweth with your age, Repaire home from worldly vanity, And *of your heart upcaste the visage* *"lift up the countenance To thilke G.o.d, that after his image of your heart."*