Part 104

Cresside, at shorte wordes for to tell, Welcomed him, and down by her him set, And he was *eath enough to make dwell;* *easily persuaded to stay* And after this, withoute longe let,* *delay The spices and the wine men forth him fet,* *fetched And forth they speak of this and that y-fere,* *together As friendes do, of which some shall ye hear.

He gan first fallen of the war in speech Between them and the folk of Troye town, And of the siege he gan eke her beseech To tell him what was her opinioun; From that demand he so descended down To aske her, if that her strange thought The Greekes’ guise,* and workes that they wrought. *fashion

And why her father tarried* so long *delayed To wedde her unto some worthy wight. Cressida, that was in her paines strong For love of Troilus, her owen knight, So farforth as she cunning* had or might, *ability Answer’d him then; but, as for his intent,* *purpose It seemed not she wiste* what he meant. *knew

But natheless this ilke* Diomede *same Gan *in himself assure,* and thus he said; *grow confident* “If I aright have *taken on you heed,* *observed you* Me thinketh thus, O lady mine Cresside, That since I first hand on your bridle laid, When ye out came of Troye by the morrow, Ne might I never see you but in sorrow.

“I cannot say what may the cause be, But if for love of some Trojan it were; *The which right sore would a-thinke me* *which it would much That ye for any wight that dwelleth there pain me to think* Should 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 be the first of whom I seeke grace, (in love) To serve you as heartily as I can, And ever shall, while I to live have space, So, ere that I depart out of this place, Ye will me grante that I may, to-morrow, At better leisure, telle you my sorrow.”

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

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

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

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

“And that doth* me to have so great a wonder *causeth That ye will scornen any woman so; Eke, God 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 God 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 God, 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 noblest 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 Cassandra, 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 Cassandra’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, God wot, is your unrest, Your haste,* and that the goddes’ 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 friendship ay; For truely, while that my life may dure, As for a friend, ye may *in me assure.* *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 space; in little space* And fare now well, God have you in his grace! “La Vostre C.”