Geoffrey Chaucer
Book IV
1.
But all too short a time (alas the while!)
lasts such joy, thanks to Fortune
who seems truest when she beguiles,
and can to fools so her song attune
that she catches and blinds them, traitress soon:
and when a man is from her wheel thrown
then her laughs and grimaces are shown.
2.
From Troilus she began her bright face
to turn away, and took of him no heed,
but cast him clean out of his lady’s grace,
and on her wheel she set up Diomede:
at which my heart right now begins to bleed,
and now my pen, alas, with which I write
quakes for dread of what I bring to light.
3.
For how Cressid Troilus forsook,
or, at the least, how she was unkind,
must henceforth be the matter of my book,
as the folk write through which it comes to mind.
Alas that they should ever cause find
to speak harm of her: and if they lie,
they themselves are the guilty ones, say I.
4.
Oh you Holy Ones, Night’s daughters three,
who endlessly complain ever in painfulness,
Megaera, Alecto, and Tisiphone:
you cruel Mars too, father of Quirinus,
this fourth book help me finish, just,
so that the loss of life and love together
of Troilus may be fully showed here.
5.
Lying, as a host, as I have said before this,
the Greeks, in strength, around Troy town,
it befell that when Phoebus shining is
upon the breast of Hercules’s Lion,
that Hector, with many a bold baron,
set on a day with the Greeks to fight,
as he tried to grieve them when he might.
6.
I do not know how long it was between
this purpose, and the day of their intent:
but on a day well armed, bright to be seen,
Hector and many a worthy man forth went
with spears in hand and great bows bent:
and face to face, without delay or let,
their foemen in the field at once they met.
7.
All day long, with spears well ground,
with arrows, darts, swords, and maces fell,
they fight and bring horse and man to ground,
and with their axes out the brains spill.
But in the last assault, truth to tell,
the folk of Troy themselves so badly did
that being worsted, home by night they fled.
8.
On which day was taken Antenor,
not to mention Polydamas and Monesto,
Xanthippus, Sarpedon, Polynestor,
Polites, and the Trojan Lord Ripheo,
and other lesser folk like Phebuso.
So that for harm that day the folk of Troy
feared they had lost the greater part of joy.
9.
By Priam was given, at the Greeks request,
a time of truce, and then they began to treat
concerning exchange of prisoners, least and best,
and for the surplus to give ransoms great.
This thing was soon known in every street,
in the beseigers’ camp, town, everywhere,
and among the first it came to Calchas’s ear.
10.
When Calchas knew the treaty would hold,
in council, among the Greeks, he soon
began to crowd forth with lords old,
and sat down where he was wont to do:
and with a changed face begged of them a boon,
for love of God, to show him reverence,
to quiet their noise, and give him audience.
11.
Then he spoke thus: ‘Lo, my lords, I was
Trojan, as is known to you indeed:
and if you remember, I am that Calchas,
who, first of all, brought comfort in your need,
and told that you would certainly succeed.
For, without doubt, by you, it will be found,
Troy will be burnt and beaten to the ground.
12.
And in what form and in what manner of wise
to take the town, and all your ends achieve,
you have before now heard me advise:
this you know my lords, as I believe.
And as the Greeks were so beloved of me,
I came myself in my own person
to teach you how this thing could best be done.
13.
Giving no consideration to my rents,
or my treasure, but only to your ease,
thus I lost all my goods as I went,
thinking in this you lords to please.
But all that loss gives me no unease.
I undertake, as I hope for joy,
to lose for you all that I have in Troy.
14.
Save for a daughter that I left, alas,
sleeping at home when I from Troy parted.
O stern and cruel father that I was!
How could I have been so hard-hearted?
Alas! In her shift she should have departed.
For sorrow of which I will not live tomorrow
unless you lords take pity on my sorrow.
15.
Because I saw no chance before now
to free her, I have held my peace:
but now or never, if you choose so,
I may have her here right soon, with ease.
O help and grace! Among all Greece
take pity on this old wretch in distress,
since I bear for you all this heaviness!
16.
You now have captive and fettered in prison
Trojans enough: and if your will it be,
my child for one of them can have redemption.
Now for the love of God and generosity,
one of so many, alas, give him to me.
What point would it be this prayer to refuse,
since you’ll have folk and town soon, as you choose.
17.
On peril of my life I would not lie,
Apollo has told it to me faithfully:
I have also found it out by astronomy,
by lot, and also indeed by augury,
I dare well say the time is nigh
when fire and flame through all the town will spread,
and so shall Troy turn to ashes dead.
18.
For sure, Phoebus and Neptune both,
that built the walls of the town,
have always been with the folk of Troy so wrath,
that they will bring it to confusion
out of spite for King Laomedon:
because he would not pay their hire
the town of Troy shall be set on fire.’
19.
Telling his tale through, his beard so grey
humble in manner and in speech,
the salt tears from his two eyes play
in quick running streams down either cheek.
So long he did for succour them beseech
that to heal him of his sorrows true
they gave him Antenor without more ado.
20.
But who was glad then as Calchas though?
And to this end soon his requests laid
on those who would to make the treaty go,
and, exchanged for Antenor, them demanded
to bring home King Thoas and Cressid:
And when Priam his safe-guard sent
the ambassadors to Troy directly went.
21.
Told the cause of their coming, old
Priam, the king at once issued a call
so that a
parliament he could hold:
to tell you the effects of which I shall.
The ambassadors were answered that all
the exchange of prisoners and their need
was acceptable, and could proceed.
22.
This Troilus was present in his place
when for Antenor was asked Cressid,
at which there was a swift change in his face
as if at those words he were well nigh dead:
but nonetheless against it he no word said
lest men should his affection spy:
with manly heart he endured his sorrow dry,
23.
And full of anguish and bitter dread
waited to hear what the lords would say:
and if they would grant (God forbid!)
the exchange of her, then his thoughts stray
to how to save her honour first, and what way
he might the exchange of her best prevent
and cast about for a means to his intent.
24.
Love made him eager for it to be denied
and he would rather die than that she go:
but Reason told him, on the other side,
‘Without her assent do not do so,
lest for your efforts she become your foe,
and say that through your meddling was revealed
the love between you which had been concealed.’
25.
Because of which he decided for the best
that though the lords wished that she be sent
he would let them grant what they wished,
and tell his lady first what was meant:
and when she had told him her intent,
thereafter he could work to prevent it
though all the world might strive against it.
26.
Hector, who had clearly the Greeks heard
and how for Antenor they would have Cressid,
began to oppose it and soberly answered:
‘Sirs, she is no prisoner,’ he said,
‘I know not who on you this charge has laid,
but for my part you may at once him tell,
it is not our custom women for to sell.’
27.
The people’s noise started up at once
as quick as the blaze of straw set on fire:
though misfortune willed in this instance
that they their own ruin did desire.
‘Hector,’ they said, ‘what spirit you inspires
to shield this woman thus and have us lose
Lord Antenor – a wrong path now you choose –
28.
who is so wise and so bold a baron?
And we have need of folk, as men may see:
he is one of the greatest in this town.
O Hector, let those fantasies be!
O King Priam, ‘they said, ‘thus say we,
that with once voice we part with Cressid’:
and to deliver Antenor they prayed.
29.
O Juvenal, lord! true is your sentence,
that folk so little know what they should yearn
for, that in their desire they see not the offence:
since clouds of error let them not discern
what’s for the best: and lo, here’s an example, learn.
This folk desire now deliverance
of Antenor, that will bring them to mischance:
30.
for he was afterwards a traitor to the town
of Troy. Alas, they ransomed him too fast.
O foolish world, behold your discretion:
Cressid, that never brought harm to pass,
shall have her bliss no longer last:
but Antenor, he shall come home to town,
and she shall go: so one and all set down.
31.
And so it was decreed by parliament
for Antenor to yield up Cressid,
and it was pronounced by the president,
though Hector’s ‘no’ was often repeated:
and finally, whoever it gainsaid,
it was for naught, it must be and it would,
for the majority in parliament said it should.
32.
Departing out of parliament everyone,
this Troilus, without more ado,
to his chamber sped him fast, alone
(unless there were a man of his or two,
whom he ordered out quickly to go,
because he would sleep, or so he said),
and hastily down on his bed he laid.
33.
And as in winter leaves are reft
one after another till the tree is bare,
so there is only bark and branches left,
so Troilus lies bereft of comfort there,
bound into the black bark of care,
likely to breed madness in his head,
so sorely he felt this exchange of Cressid.
34.
He rose up, and every door he shut,
and window also, and then this sorrowful man
on his bed’s side down him sat,
just like a lifeless image, pale and wan:
and in his breast the heaped woe began
to burst, and he to behave in this wise
in his madness as I shall describe.
35.
Just as a wild bull leaps without restraint,
now here, now there, pierced to the heart,
and roars of his death in complaint,
so he began about the chamber to dart,
striking his breast with his fists hard,
his head against the wall, his body on the ground
often he flung it, himself to confound.
36.
His two eyes, for pity of his heart,
stream down as swift streams play:
the high sobs of his sorrows start
to rob him of speech, he can only say:
‘O death, alas, why not let me pass away?
Accursed be the day on which nature
shaped me to be a living creature!’
37.
But after, when the fury and the rage
which his heart twisted and oppressed,
in time began somewhat to be assuaged,
upon his bed he laid him down to rest.
But then his tears began in his breast,
that it is a wonder that the body may suffice
to bear half this woe that I describe.
38.
Then he said thus: ‘Fortune, alas the while,
what have I done, what is then my guilt:
how can you, for pity, me so beguile:
is there no grace, and shall my life be spilt?
Shall Cressid be sent away because you will it?
Alas! How can you it in your heart find
to be so cruel to me and unkind?
39.
Have I not honoured you all my life,
as you well know, above the gods all?
Why will you me of joy thus deprive?
O Troilus, what may men now you call
but wretch of wretches, who out of honour fall
into misery, in which I will bewail
Cressid, alas, till my breath does fail?
40.
Alas, Fortune, if my life in joy
displeased you, and roused this foul envy,
why did you not from my father, king of Troy,
reft the life, or let my brothers die,
or slain myself who complain thus and cry?
I, world’s encumbrance, that may for nothing serve,
but be dying ever, and never death deserve.
41.
If Cressid alone to me were left,
I would not care where you might me steer:
and yet of her, alas, you have me bereft.
But evermore, lo, this is your manner,
to deprive a man of what to him is most dear,
to prove by that your sudden violence.
So am I lost, and there is no defence.
42.
O very lord of love, O God, alas,
who best knows my heart and all my thought,
what will my sorrowful life be in this case
if I forgo what I have so dearly bought?
Since you, Cressid and I, have fully brought
into your grace, and both our hearts sealed,
how can you suffer it to be repealed?
43.
Whatever I may do, I, while I may endure
to live on in torment, and cruel pain,
will of this misfortune and this misadventure,
alas, that I was born, indeed complain:
nor will I ever see it shine or rain,
but I will end, like Oedipus, in darkness,
my sorrowful life, and die in distress.
44.
O weary ghost, that flits to and fro,
why will you not fly from the woefullest
body that ever on the ground might go?
O soul lurking in this woe, leave your nest,
flee out of my heart, and let it rest,
and follow always Cressid your lady dear.
Your rightful place is no longer here.
45
O twin woeful eyes, since your sport
was only to see Cressid’s eyes so bright,
what will you do but, to my discomfort,
avail me naught, and weep out your sight?
Since she is quenched who used to give you light,
in vain have I from this time two eyes, I say,
formed for me, since your virtue goes away.
46.
O my Cressida, O lady sovereign,
of this woeful soul that so cries,
who shall now give comfort to its pain?
Alas, no one: but when my heart dies,
my spirit, which towards you flies,
receive with favour, for it will ever you serve:
no matter that this body death deserve.
47.
O you lovers, who high upon the wheel
of Fortune are set, at good venture,
God grant that you find love as strong as steel,
and long may your life in joy endure.
But when you come by my sepulchre
remember that your fellow lies here,
for I loved also, though I unworthy were.
48.
O old, unwholesome, and treacherous man
(I mean Calchas), alas, what ails thee
to become a Greek though born a Trojan?
O Calchas, who my bane will be,
in a cursed time you were born, for me!
Would that blissful Jove might grant in his joy
that I had you where I wish you, in Troy!’
49.
A thousand sighs hotter than coals indeed
out of his breast one after another went,
mixed with new complaints, his woe to feed,
so that his woeful tears were never absent.
And shortly, his pains so him rent,
and he grew so exhausted, joy nor penance
could he feel, but lay there in a trance.
50.
Pandar, who in the parliament
had heard what every burgess and lord said,
and how it was all granted in one assent,
for Antenor, to yield up Cressid,
began well nigh to go out of his head,
so that, for woe, he knew not what he meant,
but in haste to Troilus he went.
51.
A certain knight, that at the time kept
the chamber door, undid it for him at once:
and Pandar, who full tenderly wept,
into the dark chamber, still as stone,
towards the bed began to softly go,
so confused he knew not what to say,
for very woe his wits were all astray.
52.
And with his face and look all distraught,
for sorrow of this, and with his arms folded,
he stood this woeful Troilus before,
and his piteous face began to behold.
But lord! So often did his heart turn cold,
seeing his friend in woe, whose heaviness
slew his heart, as he thought, from distress.
53.
This woeful man, Troilus, when he felt
his friend Pandar come in, him to see,
began, as the snow in the sun, to melt.
At which this sorrowful Pandar, from pity,
began to weep as tenderly as he.
And speechless thus the two were they,
that neither could one word for sorrow say.
54.
But at the last this woeful Troilus,
near dead of grief, began an outpour,
and with a sorrowful noise he said thus,
among his sobs and his sighs sore:
‘Lo, Pandar, I am dead and more:
have you not heard in parliament,’ he said,
for Antenor, how lost is my Cressid?’
55.
This Pandarus, full dead and pale of hue,
full piteously answered and said: ‘Yes,
I wish it were as false as it is true,
what I have heard, and know how it all is.
O mercy, God, who would have thought this?
Who would have thought that in a throw
Fortune would our joy overthrow?
56.
For in this world there is no creature
I think, who ever saw ruin hit
stranger than this through accident or venture.
But who may escape everything or divine it?
Such is this world: for so I define it:
no man should trust to find in Fortune
sole property, her gifts are communal.
57.
But tell me this, why you are so mad
with sorrow so? Why do you lie there in this wise,
since your desire completely you have had,
so that by rights it ought to suffice?
But I, that never felt in my service
a friendly face, or the gaze of an eye,
let me so weep and wail till I die.
58.
And beside all this, as you well know yourself,
this town is full of ladies all around,
and, to my mind, fairer than twelve
such as she ever was I’ll find in some crowd,
yes, one or two, without any doubt.
So be glad, my own dear brother:
If she be lost, we shall discover another.
59.
What, God forbid, always that pleasure chance
to be in one thing, and in no other might!
If one can sing, another well can dance:
if this one’s lovely, she is glad and light:
and this one’s fair, and that one reasons right.
Each for his own virtue is held dear,
both heron-hawk and falcon of the air.
60.
And then, as Zeuxis wrote who was full wise,
the new love often chases out the old
and a new case requires new advice.
Think then, save yourself, as you are told.
Such fire will by due process turn to cold:
for since it is but pleasure come by chance,
something will put it from remembrance.
61.
For as sure as day comes after night,
the new love, labour, or another woe,
or else seldom having her in sight
will an old affection overthrow.
And, for your part, you shall have one of those
comforts to abridge your bitter pain’s smart:
absence of her will drive her from your heart.’
62.
These words he said for the moment all
to help his friend, lest he for sorrow died:
doubtless to cause his woe to fall,
he cared not what nonsense he replied.
But Troilus, who nigh for sorrow died,
took little heed of anything he meant:
one ear heard it, at the other out it went:
63.
But at the last he answered, and said: ‘Ah, friend,
this medicine, or healed this way to be,
were well fitting if I were a fiend,
to betray her who is true to me.
I pray to God, this counsel never see
the light of day, rather let me die here
before I do as you would have me, sir.
64.
She that I serve, yes, whatever you say,
to whom my heart is devoted by right,
shall have me wholly hers till I die.
For, Pandarus, since I swore truth in her sight,
I will not be untrue though I might:
but as her man I’ll live and die, nor swerve
nor any other living creature serve.
65.
And where you say you will as fair find
as she, let be, make no comparison
to creature formed here of Nature’s kind.
O my dear Pandarus, in conclusion,
I will never be of your opinion
touching all this: so you I beseech
hold your peace, you slay me with your speech.
66.
You tell me that I should love another
all freshly new, and let Cressid go.
It lies not in my power, dear brother:
and though I might, I would not do so.
And can you play racquets to an fro
with love, nettle, dock, now this, now that Pandar?
Ill luck for her, who for your woe has care.
67.
Also, you do for me, you Pandarus,
as he that, when a man is woebegone,
comes to him readily and says thus:
“Think not of pain, and you will feel none.”
You must first transmute me to a stone,
and deprive me of my passions all
before you easily make my woe so fall.
68.
Death may well from my breast part
life, so long may last this sorrow of mine:
but from my soul shall Cressid’s dart
never be out, but down with Proserpine,
when I am dead, I will go dwell and pine:
and there I will eternally complain
of my woe and how we part again.
69.
You have made an argument, that’s fine,
how it should a lesser pain be
to forgo Cressid because she has been mine,
and live in ease and felicity.
Why do you gab so, who said this to me,
that “it is worse for him who from joy’s thrown
than if he had none of that joy ever known”?
70.
But tell me now, since you think it right
to change so in love, to and fro,
why have you not tried with all your might
to change from her who brings you all your woe?
Why will you not let her from your heart go?
Why will you not love another lady sweet
who might yet bring your heart to peace?
71.
If you in love have always had mischance
and cannot it out of your heart drive,
I, that have lived in joy and pleasant chance,
with her, as much as any creature alive,
how should I forget, and be so blithe?
Oh, where have you been hid so long in mew,
that you so well and formally argue?
72.
No, No, God knows, worth naught is all you said,
despite of which, regardless what may fall,
without more words, I will be dead.
O Death, who are the ender of sorrows all,
come now, since I so often on you call:
for happy is that death, truth to say,
that, oft invoked, comes and ends our pain.
73.
I know it well, while my life was at peace,
to stop you slaying me, I would have given hire:
but now your coming is to me so sweet,
that in this world I nothing so desire.
O Death, since with this sorrow I am on fire,
either at once let me in tears die drenched,
or with your cold stroke, my heat quenched.
74.
Since you slay so many in ways so various,
against their will, unasked-for, day and night,
do me, at my request, this service,
take now the world (and you do right)
from me, who am the woefullest knight
that ever was: for it is time I passed away,
since in this world I have no part to play.’
75.
At this Troilus’s tears began to distill,
like liquor from a retort full fast:
and Pandarus held his tongue still,
and down to the ground his eyes cast.
But nonetheless, thus thought he at the last:
‘What, by heaven! Rather than my friend die
yet I will somewhat more to this reply.’
76.
And said: ‘Friend, since you are in such distress,
and since you think my arguments to blame,
why not yourself help provide redress,
and with your manliness prevent this game?
Go take her: you cannot not do so: for shame!
and either let her from the town go
or keep her, and let foolishness alone.
77.
Are you in Troy and have no courage then
to take a woman who loves thee,
and would herself give her assent?
Now is this not foolish vanity?
Rise up now, and let this weeping be
and show you are a man, for in this hour
I will be dead or she will remain ours.’
78.
To this Troilus answered him full soft,
and said: ‘By heaven, beloved brother dear,
all this I have thought of myself, and oft,
and more things than you speak of here.
But why it cannot be, you shall well hear,
and when you have give me an audience
afterwards you can pronounce sentence.
79.
First, since (you know) this town is at war
through the taking of a woman by might,
it would not be suffered for me so to err,
as things stand now, or do what was not right.
I should have blame also from every knight
if I against my father’s ruling stood,
since she’s exchanged for the town’s good.
80.
I have thought also, if she were to assent,
to ask my father for her, of his grace:
yet this would accuse her to all intent,
since I know well I may not her purchase.
For since my father, in so high a place
as parliament, has her exchange sealed,
he will not for me see his decree repealed.
81.
Yet most I dread her heart to perturb
with violence, if I play such a game:
for if I were this to openly disturb
it must seem a slander on her name.
And I would rather die than her defame.
God forbid that I should not have
her honour dearer than my life to save.
82.
So am I lost, for aught that I can see,
for certain it is, since I am her knight,
I must hold her honour dearer than I to me
in any case, as a lover ought, of right.
So in my mind desire and reason fight:
desire to trouble her advises me clear,
and reason forbids it, as my heart fears.’
83.
Thus weeping, as if he could never cease,
he said: ‘Alas, how will I, wretch, fare?
For I feel my love always to increase,
and hope is always less and less, Pandar.
Increasing also the causes of my care,
so why does my heart not burst in my breast?
For in love like this there is but little rest.’
84.
Pandar answered: ‘Friend, you may, you see
do as you wish for my part: but if I were hot
and had your power, she should go with me
though all this town cried out on one note:
for all that noise I would not give a groat,
for when men have cried a while there is no sound.
A wonder never lasts more than nine nights in town.
85.
Probe not in reasoning so deep
or courtesy, but help yourself soon.
It is better that others weep,
and especially since you two be one.
Rise up, for, by my head, she will be gone:
and rather be in blame, a little, found
than die here like a gnat, without a wound.
86.
It is no shame to you, nor a vice,
to take her who you love most.
Perhaps she might think you were too nice
to let her go thus to the Greek host.
Think also, Fortune, as you know’st,
helps hardy men in their enterprise,
and scorns wretches for their cowardice.
87.
And though your lady might a little grieve,
you can your peace full well hereafter make.
But as for me, for certain, I can’t believe
that she would now it for an evil take:
why then for fear should your heart quake?
Think also how Paris has (who is your brother)
a love, and why should you not have another?
88.