Troilus and Criseyde

“ But now help god to quenchen al this sorwe, So hope I that he shal, for he best may; 1060 For I have seyn, of a ful misty morwe Folwen ful ofte a mery someres day; And after winter folweth grene May. Men seen alday, and reden eek in stories, That after sharpe shoures been victories. 1065 This Troilus, whan he hir wordes herde, Have ye no care, him liste not to slepe; For it thoughte him no strokes of a yerde To here or seen Criseyde, his lady wepe; But wel he felte aboute his herte crepe, 1070 For every teer which that Criseyde asterte, The crampe of deeth, to streyne him by the herte. ”

“ Now, thonked be god, he may goon in the daunce Of hem that Love list febly for to avaunce!' `But, O thou woful Troilus, god wolde, Sin thou most loven thurgh thi destinee, 520 That thow beset were on swich oon that sholde Knowe al thy wo, al lakkede hir pitee: But al so cold in love, towardes thee, Thy lady is, as frost in winter mone, And thou fordoon, as snow in fyr is sone.' 525 `God wolde I were aryved in the port Of deth, to which my sorwe wil me lede! ”

“ Ful redy was at pryme Dyomede, 15 Criseyde un-to the Grekes ost to lede, For sorwe of which she felt hir herte blede, As she that niste what was best to rede. And trewely, as men in bokes rede, Men wiste never womman han the care, 20 Ne was so looth out of a toun to fare. This Troilus, with-outen reed or lore, As man that hath his Ioyes eek forlore, Was waytinge on his lady ever-more As she that was the soothfast crop and more 25 Of al his lust, or Ioyes here-tofore. But Troilus, now farewel al thy Ioye, For shaltow never seen hir eft in Troye! ”

“ We all see Criseyde, so young, gay, and winning, with the eyes of Troilus; and Troilus, brave, gentle, courteous, and modest, with the eyes of Criseyde. She, learning his love from Pandarus, and deeply pitying him, sees him ride past from the battle, his helmet hewn, his shield shattered with sword strokes, the people welcoming him, and her love outruns her pity. It must be confessed that the manœuvres of Pandarus are told at very great length. The poet has all our sympathy when he cries:—
But flee we now prolixitee best is,
For love of God ”

“ Yet all through this critical discussion he kept silence, “lest men should his affection espy!” The separation, he knows, will kill him; but among all the measures he debates with Criseyde or Pandarus—even among the desperate acts which he threatens to commit—nothing so desperate as plain marriage seems to occur to any of the three. The first thought of Troilus is “how to save her honour,” but only in the technical sense of medieval chivalry, by feigning indifference to her. He sheds floods of tears; he tells Fortune that if only he may keep his lady, he is reckless of all else in the world ”

“ The Troilus and Cressida story is not found in Greek and Latin classics. Shakespeare follows Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, which is based upon the Filostrato and the Filocolo of Boccaccio. Pandarus: the character of this name, uncle of Cressida, to be found in Lydgate, Chaucer's Troilus and Criseyde, and Shakespeare's play of the same title, enjoys an unsavory reputation for which medieval romance is responsible. On Menelaüs, see notes to Helen and Agamemnon.
In Art. Iphigenia. Paintings: Fig. 152, text (Museum, Naples) ; E. Hübner; William Kaulbach; E. Teschendorff.
199. Achilles. ”

“ This sely Troilus was wo! 530 Him thoughte his sorweful herte braste a-two. For whan he saugh hir dores sperred alle, Wel neigh for sorwe a-doun he gan to falle. Therwith, whan he was war and gan biholde How shet was every windowe of the place, 535 As frost, him thoughte, his herte gan to colde; For which with chaunged deedlich pale face, With-outen word, he forth bigan to pace; And, as god wolde, he gan so faste ryde, That no wight of his contenance aspyde. ”

“ Shal never lover seyn that Troilus 1200 Dar not, for fere, with his lady dye; For certeyn, I wol bere hir companye. But sin ye wol not suffre us liven here, Yet suffreth that our soules ben y-fere. `And thou, citee, whiche that I leve in wo, 1205 And thou, Pryam, and bretheren al y-fere, And thou, my moder, farwel! For I go; And Attropos, make redy thou my bere! And thou, Criseyde, o swete herte dere, Receyve now my spirit!' wolde he seye, 1210 With swerd at herte, al redy for to deye But as god wolde, of swough ther-with she abreyde, And gan to syke, and `Troilus' she cryde ”

“ It preveth wel, he spak so that Criseyde Graunted, on the morwe, at his requeste, 950 For to speken with him at the leste, So that he nolde speke of swich matere; And thus to him she seyde, as ye may here: As she that hadde hir herte on Troilus So faste, that ther may it noon arace; 955 And straungely she spak, and seyde thus; `O Diomede, I love that ilke place Ther I was born; and Ioves, for his grace, Delivere it sone of al that doth it care! God, for thy might, so leve it wel to fare! 960 `That Grekes wolde hir wraththe on Troye wreke, If that they mighte, I knowe it wel, y-wis. ”

“ And estward roos, to him that coude it knowe, 1420 Fortuna maior, than anoon Criseyde, With herte sore, to Troilus thus seyde: -- `Myn hertes lyf, my trist and my plesaunce, That I was born, allas! What me is wo, That day of us mot make desseveraunce! 1425 For tyme it is to ryse, and hennes go, Or elles I am lost for evermo! O night, allas! ”

“ Allas the whyle! What have I doon, what have I thus a-gilt? How mightestow for reuthe me bigyle? Is ther no grace, and shal I thus be spilt? Shal thus Criseyde awey, for that thou wilt? 265 Allas! How maystow in thyn herte finde To been to me thus cruel and unkinde? `Have I thee nought honoured al my lyve, As thou wel wost, above the goddes alle? Why wiltow me fro Ioye thus depryve? 270 O Troilus, what may men now thee calle But wrecche of wrecches, out of honour falle In-to miserie, in which I wol biwayle Criseyde, allas! ”

“ If that my lyf in Ioye 275 Displesed hadde un-to thy foule envye, Why ne haddestow my fader, king of Troye, By-raft the lyf, or doon my bretheren dye, Or slayn my-self, that thus compleyne and crye, I, combre-world, that may of no-thing serve, 280 But ever dye, and never fully sterve? `If that Criseyde allone were me laft, Nought roughte I whider thou woldest me stere; And hir, allas! Than hastow me biraft. But ever-more, lo! This is thy manere, 285 To reve a wight that most is to him dere, To preve in that thy gerful violence. Thus am I lost, ther helpeth no defence! ”

“ And sith thou wost I do it for no wyle, And sith I am he that thou tristest most, 720 Tel me sumwhat, sin al my wo thou wost.' Yet Troilus, for al this, no word seyde, But longe he ley as stille as he ded were; And after this with sykinge he abreyde, And to Pandarus voys he lente his ere, 725 And up his eyen caste he, that in fere Was Pandarus, lest that in frenesye He sholde falle, or elles sone dye; And cryde `A-wake' ful wonderly and sharpe ”

“ And Troilus yet him no word answerde, For-why to telle nas not his entente To never no man, for whom that he so ferde. 740 For it is seyd, `Man maketh ofte a yerde With which the maker is him-self y-beten In sondry maner,' as thise wyse treten, And namely, in his counseyl tellinge That toucheth love that oughte be secree; 745 For of him-self it wolde y-nough out-springe, But-if that it the bet governed be. Eek som-tyme it is craft to seme flee Fro thing which in effect men hunte faste ”

“ Now lat us stinte of Troilus a throwe, That rydeth forth, and lat us tourne faste Un-to Criseyde, that heng hir heed ful lowe, 690 Ther-as she sat allone, and gan to caste Wher-on she wolde apoynte hir at the laste, If it so were hir eem ne wolde cesse, For Troilus, up-on hir for to presse. And, lord! So she gan in hir thought argue 695 In this matere of which I have yow told, And what to doon best were, and what eschue, That plyted she ful ofte in many fold. ”

“ And semeth me that he desyreth fawe With yow to been al night, for to devyse Remede in this, if ther were any wyse. `This, short and pleyne, theffect of my message, 890 As ferforth as my wit can comprehende. For ye, that been of torment in swich rage, May to no long prologe as now entende; And her-upon ye may answere him sende. And, for the love of god, my nece dere, 895 So leef this wo er Troilus be here.' `Gret is my wo,' quod she, and sighte sore, As she that feleth dedly sharp distresse; `But yet to me his sorwe is muchel more, That love him bet than he him-self, I gesse. ”

“ Why sholde than for ferd thyn herte quake? Thenk eek how Paris hath, that is thy brother, A love; and why shaltow not have another? 610 `And Troilus, o thing I dar thee swere, That if Criseyde, whiche that is thy leef, Now loveth thee as wel as thou dost here, God helpe me so, she nil nat take a-greef, Though thou do bote a-noon in this mischeef. 615 And if she wilneth fro thee for to passe, Thanne is she fals; so love hir wel the lasse. `For-thy tak herte, and thenk, right as a knight, Thourgh love is broken alday every lawe. ”

“ From Troilus she gan hir brighte face Awey to wrythe, and took of him non hede, But caste him clene out of his lady grace, 10 And on hir wheel she sette up Diomede; For which right now myn herte ginneth blede, And now my penne, allas! With which I wryte, Quaketh for drede of that I moot endyte. For how Criseyde Troilus forsook, 15 Or at the leste, how that she was unkinde, Mot hennes-forth ben matere of my book, As wryten folk through which it is in minde. Allas! That they sholde ever cause finde To speke hir harm; and if they on hir lye, 20 Y-wis, hem-self sholde han the vilanye. ”

“ Right so Criseyde, whan hir drede stente, Opned hir herte and tolde him hir entente. 1240 And right as he that seeth his deeth y-shapen, And deye moot, in ought that he may gesse, And sodeynly rescous doth him escapen, And from his deeth is brought in sikernesse, For al this world, in swich present gladnesse 1245 Was Troilus, and hath his lady swete; With worse hap god lat us never mete! Hir armes smale, hir streyghte bak and softe, Hir sydes longe, fleshly, smothe, and whyte He gan to stroke, and good thrift bad ful ofte 1250 Hir snowish throte, hir brestes rounde and lyte ”

“ Quod Troilus, `Allas! Now am I war That Pirous and tho swifte stedes three, Whiche that drawen forth the sonnes char, Han goon som by-path in despyt of me; 1705 That maketh it so sone day to be; And, for the sonne him hasteth thus to ryse, Ne shal I never doon him sacrifyse!' But nedes day departe moste hem sone, And whanne hir speche doon was and hir chere, 1710 They twinne anoon as they were wont to done, And setten tyme of meting eft y-fere; And many a night they wroughte in this manere. And thus Fortune a tyme ladde in Ioye Criseyde, and eek this kinges sone of Troye. ”

“ Criseyde also, right in the same wyse, Of Troilus gan in hir herte shette His worthinesse, his lust, his dedes wyse, 1550 His gentilesse, and how she with him mette, Thonkinge love he so wel hir bisette; Desyring eft to have hir herte dere In swich a plyt, she dorste make him chere. Pandare, a-morwe which that comen was 1555 Un-to his nece, and gan hir fayre grete, Seyde, `Al this night so reyned it, allas! That al my drede is that ye, nece swete, Han litel layser had to slepe and mete ”

“ For I am ever a-gast, for-why men rede, 1645 That "love is thing ay ful of bisy drede." `For in this world ther liveth lady noon, If that ye were untrewe, as god defende! That so bitraysed were or wo bigoon As I, that alle trouthe in yow entende. 1650 And douteles, if that ich other wende, I nere but deed; and er ye cause finde, For goddes love, so beth me not unkinde.' To this answerde Troilus and seyde, `Now god, to whom ther nis no cause y-wrye, 1655 Me glade, as wis I never un-to Criseyde, Sin thilke day I saw hir first with ye, Was fals, ne never shal til that I dye. ”

“ How sholde I live, if that I from him twinne? O dere herte eek, that I love so, Who shal that sorwe sleen that ye ben inne? 760 O Calkas, fader, thyn be al this sinne! O moder myn, that cleped were Argyve, Wo worth that day that thou me bere on lyve! `To what fyn sholde I live and sorwen thus? How sholde a fish with-oute water dure? 765 What is Criseyde worth, from Troilus? How sholde a plaunte or lyves creature Live, with-oute his kinde noriture? For which ful oft a by-word here I seye, That "rotelees, mot grene sone deye." ”

“ BOOK I. Incipit Liber Primus The double sorwe of Troilus to tellen, 1 That was the king Priamus sone of Troye, In lovinge, how his aventures fellen Fro wo to wele, and after out of Ioye, My purpos is, er that I parte fro ye. 5 Thesiphone, thou help me for tendyte Thise woful vers, that wepen as I wryte! To thee clepe I, thou goddesse of torment, Thou cruel Furie, sorwing ever in peyne; Help me, that am the sorwful instrument 10 That helpeth lovers, as I can, to pleyne! For wel sit it, the sothe for to seyne, A woful wight to han a drery fere, And, to a sorwful tale, a sory chere. ”

“ Allas! And falsen Troilus? I knowe him not, god helpe me so,' quod she; `Allas! What wikked spirit tolde him thus? Now certes, eem, to-morwe, and I him see, I shal ther-of as ful excusen me 810 As ever dide womman, if him lyke'; And with that word she gan ful sore syke. `O god!' quod she, `So worldly selinesse, Which clerkes callen fals felicitee, Y-medled is with many a bitternesse! 815 Ful anguisshous than is, god woot,' quod she, `Condicioun of veyn prosperitee; For either Ioyes comen nought y-fere, Or elles no wight hath hem alwey here. ”