Canterbury Tales and Other Poems by Geoffrey Chaucer (always you kirsty moseley .txt) 📖

mattere; From ev’ry wight as far as is the cloud He was, so well dissimulate he could.

 

And all the while that I now devise describe, narrate This was his life: with all his fulle might, By day he was in Marte’s high service, That is to say, in armes as a knight;

And, for the moste part, the longe night He lay, and thought how that he mighte serve His lady best, her thank* for to deserve. *gratitude I will not swear, although he laye soft, That in his thought he n’as somewhat diseas’d; troubled Nor that he turned on his pillows oft, And would of that him missed have been seis’d; possessed But in such case men be not alway pleas’d, For aught I wot, no more than was he;

That can I deem* of possibility. *judge But certain is, to purpose for to go,

That in this while, as written is in gest, the history of He saw his lady sometimes, and also these events She with him spake, when that she *durst and lest; dared and pleased*

And, by their both advice,* as was the best, consultation Appointed full warily* in this need, made careful preparations

So as they durst, how far they would proceed.

 

But it was spoken in so short a wise, so briefly, and always in such In such await alway, and in such fear, vigilance and fear of being Lest any wight divinen or devise* found out by anyone*

Would of their speech, or to it lay an ear, *That all this world them not so lefe were, they wanted more than As that Cupido would them grace send anything in the world*

To maken of their speeches right an end.

 

But thilke little that they spake or wrought, His wise ghost* took ay of all such heed, *spirit It seemed her he wiste what she thought Withoute word, so that it was no need

To bid him aught to do, nor aught forbid; For which she thought that love, all* came it late, *although Of alle joy had open’d her the gate.

 

Troilus, by his discretion, his secrecy, and his devotion, made ever a deeper lodgment in Cressida’s heart; so that she thanked God twenty thousand times that she had met with a man who, as she felt, “was to her a wall of steel, and shield from ev’ry displeasance;” while Pandarus ever actively fanned the fire. So passed a “time sweet” of tranquil and harmonious love the only drawback being, that the lovers might not often meet, “nor leisure have, their speeches to fulfil.” At last Pandarus found an occasion for bringing them together at his house unknown to anybody, and put his plan in execution.

 

For he, with great deliberation,

Had ev’ry thing that hereto might avail be of service Forecast, and put in execution,

And neither left for cost nor for travail; effort Come if them list, them shoulde nothing fail, *Nor for to be in aught espied there,

That wiste he an impossible were. he knew it was impossible*

that they could be discovered there*

And dreadeless* it clear was in the wind *without doubt Of ev’ry pie, and every let-game; <49>

Now all is well, for all this world is blind, In this mattere, bothe fremd* and tame; <50> wild This timber is all ready for to frame; Us lacketh naught, but that we weete wo’ld *know A certain hour in which we come sho’ld. <51>

 

Troilus had informed his household, that if at any time he was missing, he had gone to worship at a certain temple of Apollo, “and first to see the holy laurel quake, or that the godde spake out of the tree.” So, at the changing of the moon, when “the welkin shope him for to rain,” [when the sky was preparing to rain] Pandarus went to invite his niece to supper; solemnly assuring her that Troilus was out of the town — though all the time he was safely shut up, till midnight, in “a little stew,”

whence through a hole he joyously watched the arrival of his mistress and her fair niece Antigone, with half a score of her women. After supper Pandaras did everything to amuse his niece; “he sung, he play’d, he told a tale of Wade;” <52> at last she would take her leave; but

 

The bente Moone with her hornes pale,

Saturn, and Jove, in Cancer joined were, <53>

That made such a rain from heav’n avail, descend That ev’ry manner woman that was there Had of this smoky rain <54> a very fear; At which Pandarus laugh’d, and saide then “Now were it time a lady to go hen!” hence He therefore presses Cressida to remain all night; she complies with a good grace; and after the sleeping cup has gone round, all retire to their chambers — Cressida, that she may not be disturbed by the rain and thunder, being lodged in the “inner closet” of Pandarus, who, to lull suspicion, occupies the outer chamber, his niece’s women sleeping in the intermediate apartment. When all is quiet, Pandarus liberates Troilus, and by a secret passage brings him to the chamber of Cressida; then, going forward alone to his niece, after calming her fears of discovery, he tells her that her lover has “through a gutter, by a privy went,” [a secret passage] come to his house in all this rain, mad with grief because a friend has told him that she loves Horastes. Suddenly cold about her heart, Cressida promises that on the morrow she will reassure her lover; but Pandarus scouts the notion of delay, laughs to scorn her proposal to send her ring in pledge of her truth, and finally, by pitiable accounts of Troilus’ grief, induces her to receive him and reassure him at once with her own lips.

 

This Troilus full soon on knees him set, Full soberly, right by her bedde’s head, And in his beste wise his lady gret greeted But Lord! how she wax’d suddenly all red, And thought anon how that she would be dead; She coulde not one word aright out bring, So suddenly for his sudden coming.

 

Cressida, though thinking that her servant and her knight should not have doubted her truth, yet sought to remove his jealousy, and offered to submit to any ordeal or oath he might impose; then, weeping, she covered her face, and lay silent. “But now,”

exclaims the poet —

 

But now help, God, to quenchen all this sorrow!

So hope I that he shall, for he best may; For I have seen, of a full misty morrow, morn Followen oft a merry summer’s day,

And after winter cometh greene May;

Folk see all day, and eke men read in stories, That after sharpe stoures* be victories. *conflicts, struggles Believing his mistress to be angry, Troilus felt the cramp of death seize on his heart, “and down he fell all suddenly in swoon.” Pandarus “into bed him cast,” and called on his niece to pull out the thorn that stuck in his heart, by promising that she would “all forgive.” She whispered in his ear the assurance that she was not wroth; and at last, under her caresses, he recovered consciousness, to find her arm laid over him, to hear the assurance of her forgiveness, and receive her frequent kisses.

Fresh vows and explanations passed; and Cressida implored forgiveness of “her own sweet heart,” for the pain she had caused him. Surprised with sudden bliss, Troilus put all in God’s hand, and strained his lady fast in his arms. “What might or may the seely [innocent] larke say, when that the sperhawk [sparrowhawk] hath him in his foot?”

 

Cressida, which that felt her thus y-take, As write clerkes in their bookes old,

Right as an aspen leaf began to quake, When she him felt her in his armes fold; But Troilus, all *whole of cares cold, cured of painful sorrows*<55>

Gan thanke then the blissful goddes seven. <56>

Thus sundry paines bringe folk to heaven.

 

This Troilus her gan in armes strain,

And said, “O sweet, as ever may I go’n, prosper Now be ye caught, now here is but we twain, Now yielde you, for other boot* is none.” *remedy To that Cresside answered thus anon,

“N’ had I ere now, my sweete hearte dear, *Been yolden,* y-wis, I were now not here!” yielded myself

 

O sooth is said, that healed for to be Of a fever, or other great sickness,

Men muste drink, as we may often see,

Full bitter drink; and for to have gladness Men drinken often pain and great distress!

I mean it here, as for this adventure, That thorough pain hath founden all his cure.

 

And now sweetnesse seemeth far more sweet, That bitterness assayed* was beforn; *tasted <57>

For out of woe in blisse now they fleet, float, swim None such they felte since that they were born; Now is it better than both two were lorn! <58>

For love of God, take ev’ry woman heed To worke thus, if it come to the need!

 

Cresside, all quit from ev’ry dread and teen, pain As she that juste cause had him to trust, Made him such feast,<59> it joy was for to see’n, When she his truth and *intent cleane wist; knew the purity And as about a tree, with many a twist, of his purpose*

Bitrent and writhen is the sweet woodbind, plaited and wreathed

Gan each of them in armes other wind. embrace, encircle And as the *new abashed* nightingale, newly-arrived and timid

That stinteth,* first when she beginneth sing, stops When that she heareth any herde’s tale, the talking of a shepherd*

Or in the hedges any wight stirring;

And, after, sicker* out her voice doth ring; confidently Right so Cressida, when her dreade stent, her doubt ceased*

Open’d her heart, and told him her intent. mind And might as he that sees his death y-shapen, prepared And dien must, *in aught that he may guess, for all he can tell*

And suddenly *rescouse doth him escapen, he is rescued and escapes*

And from his death is brought *in sickerness; to safety*

For all the world, in such present gladness Was Troilus, and had his lady sweet;

With worse hap God let us never meet!

 

Her armes small, her straighte back and soft, Her sides longe, fleshly, smooth, and white, He gan to stroke; and good thrift* bade full oft *blessing On her snow-white throat, her breastes round and lite; small Thus in this heaven he gan him delight, And therewithal a thousand times her kist, That what to do for joy *unneth he wist. he hardly knew*

 

The lovers exchanged vows, and kisses, and embraces, and speeches of exalted love, and rings; Cressida gave to Troilus a brooch of gold and azure, “in which a ruby set was like a heart;”

and the too short night passed.

 

“When that the cock, commune astrologer, <60>

Gan on his breast to beat, and after crow, And Lucifer, the daye’s messenger,

Gan for to rise, and out his beames throw; And eastward rose, to him that could it know, Fortuna Major, <61> then anon Cresseide, With hearte sore, to Troilus thus said: “My hearte’s life, my trust, and my pleasance!

That I was born, alas! that me is woe, That day of us must make disseverance!

For time it is to rise, and hence to go, Or else I am but lost for evermo’.

O Night! alas! why n’ilt thou o’er us hove, hover As long as when Alcmena lay by Jove? <62>