Part 96

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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.<24> 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: *“All were it not to do’n,’* *although it were To grant him love, yet for the worthiness impossible* It were honour, with play* and with gladness, *pleasing entertainment In honesty with such a lord to deal, For mine estate,* and also for his heal.** *reputation **health

“Eke well I wot* my kinge’s son is he; *know And, since he hath to see me such delight, If I would utterly his sighte flee, Parauntre* he might have me in despite, *peradventure Through which I mighte stand in worse plight. <25> Now were I fool, me hate to purchase* *obtain for myself Withoute need, where I may stand in grace,* *favour

“In ev’rything, I wot, there lies measure;* *a 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 deeme* that he loveth me; *believe What dishonour were it unto me, this? May I *him let of* that? Why, nay, pardie! *prevent him from* 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! — *All would I* that no man wist of this thought — *although I would* I am one of the fairest, without drede,* *doubt 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 *lusty leas,* *pleasant leash Withoute jealousy, or such debate: (of love)* 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 fine* live I thus? *end Shall I not love, in case if that me lest? What? pardie! I am not religious;<26> 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,* *pass 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:

after that her thought began to clear, And saide, “He that nothing undertakes Nothing achieveth, be him *loth or dear.”* *unwilling or desirous* And with another thought her hearte quakes; Then sleepeth hope, and after dread awakes, Now hot, now cold; but thus betwixt the tway* *two She rist* her up, and wente forth to play.** *rose **take 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,* *winding, turn <12> Flexippe and she, Tarke, Antigone, To playe, that it joy was for to see; And other of her women, a great rout,* *troop 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 sheen* *bright, 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 *kind right,* *true nature* Though that a man, for feebleness of eyen, May not endure to see on it for bright? <27> Or Love the worse, tho’ wretches on it cryen? No weal* is worth, that may no sorrow drien;** <28> *happiness **endure And forthy,* who that hath a head of verre,** *therefore **glass <29> From cast of stones ware him in the werre. <30>

“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 *All dread I* first to love him begin, *although I feared* 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 westren* fast, and downward for to wry,** *go west <31> **turn 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.* *in company

So, when it liked her to go to rest, And voided* were those that voiden ought, *gone out (of the house) She saide, that to sleepe well her lest.* *pleased 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,* in his birde’s wise, a lay *perchance Of love, that made her hearte fresh and gay; Hereat hark’d* she so long in good intent, *listened Till at the last the deade sleep her hent.* *seized

And as she slept, anon right then *her mette* *she dreamed* 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 did* his heart into her breast to go’n, *caused Of which no thing she was *abash’d nor smert;* *amazed nor hurt* 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 *n’ilt it dignely endite* *wilt not write it haughtily* Or make it with these argumentes tough, Nor scrivener-like, nor craftily it write; Beblot it with thy tears also a lite;* *little And if thou write a goodly word all soft, Though it be good, rehearse it not too oft.

“For though the beste harper *pon live* *alive Would on the best y-sounded jolly harp That ever was, with all his fingers five Touch ay one string, or *ay one warble harp,* *always play one tune* Were his nailes pointed ne’er so sharp, He shoulde maken ev’ry wight to dull* *to grow bored To hear his glee, and of his strokes full.

“Nor jompre* eke no discordant thing y-fere,** *jumble **together As thus, to use termes of physic; In love’s termes hold of thy mattere The form alway, and *do that it be like;* *make it consistent* For if a painter woulde paint a pike With ass’s feet, and head it as an ape,<32> It *’cordeth not,* so were it but a jape.” *is not harmonious*

Troilus writes the letter, and next morning Pandarus bears it to Cressida. She refuses to receive “scrip or bill that toucheth such mattere;” but he thrusts it into her bosom, challenging her to throw it away. She retains it, takes the first opportunity of escaping to her chamber to read it, finds it wholly good, and, under her uncle’s dictation, endites a reply telling her lover that she will not make herself bound in love; “but as his sister, him to please, she would aye fain [be glad] to do his heart an ease.” Pandarus, under pretext of inquiring who is the owner of the house opposite, has gone to the window; Cressida takes her letter to him there, and tells him that she never did a thing with more pain than write the words to which he had constrained her. As they sit side by side, on a stone of jasper, on a cushion of beaten gold, Troilus rides by, in all his goodliness. Cressida waxes “as red as rose,” as she sees him salute humbly, “with dreadful cheer, and oft his hues mue [change];” she likes “all y-fere, his person, his array, his look, his cheer, his goodly manner, and his gentleness;” so that, however she may have been before, “to goode hope now hath she caught a thorn, she shall not pull it out this nexte week.” Pandarus, striking the iron when it is hot, asks his niece to grant Troilus an interview; but she strenuously declines, for fear of scandal, and because it is all too soon to allow him so great a liberty — her purpose being to love him unknown of all, “and guerdon [reward] him with nothing but with sight.” Pandarus has other intentions; and, while Troilus writes daily letters with increasing love, he contrives the means of an interview. Seeking out Deiphobus, the brother of Troilus, he tells him that Cressida is in danger of violence from Polyphete, and asks protection for her. Deiphobus gladly complies, promises the protection of Hector and Helen, and goes to invite Cressida to dinner on the morrow. Meantime Pandarus instructs Troilus to go to the house of Deiphobus, plead an access of his fever for remaining all night, and keep his chamber next day. “Lo,” says the crafty promoter of love, borrowing a phrase from the hunting-field; “Lo, hold thee at thy tristre [tryst <33>] close, and I shall well the deer unto thy bowe drive.” Unsuspicious of stratagem, Cressida comes to dinner; and at table, Helen, Pandarus, and others, praise the absent Troilus, until “her heart laughs” for very pride that she has the love of such a knight. After dinner they speak of Cressida’s business; all confirm Deiphobus’ assurances of protection and aid; and Pandarus suggests that, since Troilus is there, Cressida shall herself tell him her case. Helen and Deiphobus alone accompany Pandarus to Troilus’ chamber; there Troilus produces some documents relating to the public weal, which Hector has sent for his opinion; Helen and Deiphobus, engrossed in perusal and discussion, roam out of the chamber, by a stair, into the garden; while Pandarus goes down to the hall, and, pretending that his brother and Helen are still with Troilus, brings Cressida to her lover. The Second Book leaves Pandarus whispering in his niece’s ear counsel to be merciful and kind to her lover, that hath for her such pain; while Troilus lies “in a kankerdort,” <34> hearing the whispering without, and wondering what he shall say for this “was the first time that he should her pray of love; O! mighty God! what shall he say?”

THE THIRD BOOK.