Geoffrey
Chaucer
Book II
1.
Out of these black waves for
to sail,
O wind, O wind, begin the
weather to clear:
for in this sea the boat has
such travail,
that with my cunning I can
hardly steer.
This sea I call the
tempestuous matter
of the despair that Troilus
was in:
but now the first days of
hope begin.
2.
O lady mine, you who are
called Clio,
speed me from this time forward,
be my muse,
to rhyme this book well,
till I have so
done. I need no other art to
use,
since, to every lover, I
make excuse
that of my own feeling I
take no flight,
but out of Latin into my own
tongue write.
3.
Therefore I will have neither
thanks nor blame
for all this work, but pray
you humbly,
blame me not if any word be
lame:
for as my author said, so
say I.
And though I speak of love
unfeelingly,
that is no wonder, for it
nothing new is:
a blind man cannot judge
well what the hue is.
4.
You know also that forms of
speech change
within a thousand years, and
words, lo!
that had a value, now
wondrous odd and strange
we think them: and yet they
spoke them so,
and did as well in love as
men do now.
And to win love in sundry
ages,
in sundry lands, there were
sundry usages.
5.
And therefore whether it
happens, anywise,
that there be any lover in
this place,
that listens, as this story
shall devise,
to how Troilus came to his
lady’s grace:
and thinks, I would not love
so purchase:
or wonders at his speech and
his doing,
I cannot know: but for me
there is no wondering.
6.
For every man that to Rome
went
took not the same route, in
the same manner:
and in some lands the game
were lost to all intent,
if they did in love as men do
here,
as open in their doings, or
as they appear,
in their visiting, their
formalities, or
in speech, as they say, each
country has its law.
7.
And there have scarcely been
in this place two
that have, in love, said and
done like in all:
since for your purpose this
thing may please you,
and you no way, yet say it
all you do or shall.
And some men carve a tree,
some a stone wall,
as it chances: but since I
have begun,
I shall follow my author if
I can.
8.
In May, that mother is of
months glad,
when fresh flowers, blue,
and white, and red,
quicken again, that winter
has made dead,
and with balm is every
meadow full fed:
when Phoebus does his bright
beams spread
right in the white bull, it so occurred
as I shall sing, on May’s
day the third,
9.
that Pandarus, for all his
wise speech,
felt his own part of love’s
shots so keen,
that though he could so well
of loving preach,
it often made his colour by
day true green:
it so chanced that on that
day he had been
crossed in love, and with
woe to bed he turned,
and before the day, in many
a torment churned.
10.
The swallow, Procne, with a sorrowful lay,
when morning came began her
lamenting,
why she new-altered was: and
ever lay
Pandar in bed, half in a
slumbering,
till she so near to him made
her twittering
of how Tereus began her
sister forth to take,
that with her noise he began
to wake.
11.
And began to call, and
address himself to rising,
remembering the errand to be
run
for Troilus, and his great
undertaking:
and cast a chart, with good
aspects for the moon
to do a journey, and took
his way quite soon
to his niece’s palace close
beside.
Now Janus, god of entries, be his guide!
12.
When he was come to his
niece’s place,
‘Where is my lady?’ to her
folk said he.
And they told him, and in he
began to pace,
and found two other ladies
sitting, and she
within a paved parlour: and
the three
hearing a maiden reading the
story to them
of the siege of Thebes, while it pleased them.
13.
Said Pandarus: ‘Madame, God bless thee,
and all your book and all
the company !’
‘Ah, my uncle, welcome
indeed,’ said she:
and up she rose, and by the
hand, in a trice,
she took him fast, and said,
‘This night thrice,
may it turn to good, I
dreamed of you!’
And with that word she sat
him down too.
14.
‘Yes, niece, you will fare
well and better too,
if God will, all this year,’
said Pandarus.
‘But I am sorry I have
interrupted you
listening to the book you
praise thus:
for God’s love, what does it
say? Tell it us.
Is it of love? Oh teach me
some good from there!’
‘Uncle, ‘she said, ‘your
mistress is not in here.’
15.
At that they laughed and
then she said:
‘This romance is of Thebes
that we read:
and we heard about King Laius who is dead
through Oedipus his son, and all that deed:
and here we stopped at these
letters red,
how the bishop (as the book
can tell)
Amphiaraus, fell through
the ground to hell.’
16.
Said Pandarus: ‘All this I
know myself,
and all the siege of Thebes,
its woe and care:
for there have been made out
of it books twelve.
But let this be and tell me
how you are:
Away with your veil, and
show your face bare:
Away with your book, rise
up, and let us dance,
and let us show the May
month’s observance.
17.
‘Ah, God forbid,’ she said,
‘are you mad?
Is that the life a widow
has, God save?
By God, you fill with me
such dread,
you are so wild, it seems as
if you rave.
It would suit me better in a
cave
to rest, and read on holy
saint’s lives:
let maidens go and dance,
and young wives.
18.
‘As ever I may thrive,’ said
Pandarus,
‘I could still tell a thing
to make you play.’
‘Now uncle dear,’ she said,
‘tell it us
for God’s love: is the siege
then done away?
I am so fearful of Greeks
that I die.’
‘No, no,’ he said, ‘as ever
I may thrive!
It is a thing of those worth
any five.’
19.
‘Ah, holy God!’ she said,
‘what thing is that?
What! Better than any five
such? Oh, no, I guess!
For all the world I cannot
imagine what
it could be: some jest, I
think, is this:
and, unless you yourself say
what it is,
my wit is far too slender,
far too lean:
so help me God, I know not
what you mean.’
20.
‘And I tell you, that never
shall by me
this thing be told to you,
so may I thrive.
‘And why so, uncle mine, why
so?’ said she.
‘By God,’ he said, ‘that I
will tell as blithe:
for there would be no
prouder woman alive,
if you knew it, in all the
town of Troy:
I jest not, if ever I might
have joy.’
21.
The she began to wonder more
than before
a thousand fold, and down
her eyes cast.
For never, since the time
she had been born,
had she so desired to know a
thing, and fast:
and with a sigh she said to
him at last:
‘Now, uncle mine, I will not
tease you,
nor ask again what may
displease you.’
22.
So after this with many
words glad,
and friendly tales, and with
merry cheer
they played and entered into
this and that
of many a strange and glad
and deep matter,
as friends do when they meet
together,
until she began to ask how
Hector fared
that was the town’s wall and
the Greeks’ scourge.
23.
‘Full well, I thank God,’
said Pandarus,
‘except that in his arm he
has a little wound:
and so is his brave brother
Troilus
the wise, a worthy Hector
the second,
in whom every virtue likes
to abound,
as all truth, and all
gentleness,
wisdom, honour, freedom, and
worthiness.’
24.
‘In good faith, uncle,’ she
said, ‘that I like:
they fare well, God save
both the two!
For truly I hold it fitting
and right
a king’s son in arms well to
do,
and to have good qualities
too.
For great power and moral
virtue here
are seldom seen in one
person clear.
25.
‘In good faith that is so,’
said Pandarus:
but in truth the king has
two sons say I,
that is to say, Hector and
Troilus,
that certainly, though I
should die,
are as void of vices,
without lie,
as any men that live under
the sun,
their might and knowledge is
well known.
26.
Of Hector there is no need
to tell:
in all this world there is
no better knight
than he, that is of
worthiness a well:
and he has still more virtue
than might.
This is known by many,
worthy and right.
The same praise has Troilus,
I say to you.
God help me so, I know not
such a two.’
27.
‘By God,’ said she, ‘of
Hector that is true:
of Troilus the same belief
have I.
For certain, men say that he
too
in arms does day by day so
worthily,
and bears him here at home
so courteously
to everyone, that all the
praise has he
of them that I would most
wish to praise me.’
28.
‘You speak the truth, I
think, ‘ said Pandarus,
for yesterday whoever is
with him and sees,
he might have wondered at
Troilus:
for never yet so thick a
swarm of bees
flew, as the Greek from him
flees.
And through the field, in
every man’s ear,
there was no cry but
‘Troilus is here!’
29.
‘Now here, now there, he
hunted them so fast,
there was but Greeks’ blood;
and Troilus,
now he hurt them, and them
all down he cast:
ay, where he went it
happened thus:
he was their death, and
shield and life to us:
so that that day there was
no one dare withstand
him as he held his bloody
sword in hand.
30.
Add too that he is the
friendliest man
of great position I ever saw
in my life:
and whenever he wishes, best
fellowship can
offer to such as he thinks
worthy to thrive.’
And with that word then
Pandarus, as blithe,
took his leave and said: ‘I
will go hence.’
‘No, I would be to blame, my
uncle,’ said she then.
31.
‘What makes you weary thus
so soon,
especially of women? Will
you so?
No sit down: by God I have
business with you,
for you to speak your wisdom
before you go.’
And everyone who was near to
them so,
hearing that, began far from
them to stand,
while those two dealt with
what they had on hand.
32.
When the story was all
brought to an end
about her estate and its
governance,
Pandarus said: ‘Now it is
time I went:
but still I say, rise and
let us dance,
and cast your widow’s dress,
at a chance:
why do you wish yourself to
disfigure,
since to you has fallen so
fine an adventure?’
33.
‘Ah, well remembered, for
love of God’ said she,
‘shall I not learn what you mean
by this?’
‘No this thing needs
leisure,’ then said he,
‘and it would grieve me
greatly, as it is,
if I told it and you took it
amiss.
Yes, it were better to hold
my tongue still
than say a truth that was
against your will.
34.
For niece, by the Goddess Minerva,
and Jupiter, who makes the thunder ring,
and by the blissful Venus that I serve,
you are the woman, in this
world living,
except my lovers, to my
knowing,
that I best love, and
loathest am to grieve:
and that you know yourself,
I believe.’
35.
‘I know, my uncle,’ she
said, ‘grant mercy:
I have ever found your
friendship true:
I am to no man beholden
truly,
so much as you, and have so
little repaid you:
and with the grace of God,
if I can so do,
through my own fault, I’ll
never you offend,
and if I have before now,
I’ll make amend.
36.
But for the love of God I
you beseech,
as you are him whom I most
love and trust,
leave off your obscure
manner of speech,
tell all to me, your niece,
as you must.’
And with that word her uncle
now her kissed,
and said: ‘Gladly, beloved
niece, my dear,
take in good part all that I
tell you here.’
37.
With that she began her eyes
down to cast,
and Pandarus began to cough
a mite,
and said: ‘Niece, always,
lo! at the last,
however much some men take
delight
with subtle art their tales
to make bright,
yet, for all that, in their
intention,
their tale is all to form a
conclusion.
38.
And since the end is every
tale’s strength,
and the end of this matter
looks so fittingly,
why should I paint it or
draw it out at length
to you, who have been my
friend so faithfully?’
And with that word he began
inwardly
to behold her, and gaze upon
her face,
and said: ‘On such a mirror
fall such grace!’
39.
Then thought he thus: ‘If I
my tale spin
too long, or make procession
any while,
it will be one she’ll take
less pleasure in,
and think I would her
willfully beguile.
For tender wits think all a
cunning wile
that they cannot plainly
understand:
so I must find the glove to
fit the hand.’
40.
And he looked at her quite
intently,
and she was aware that he
beheld her so,
and said: ‘Lord! So closely
you study me!
Did you not know me till
now? What say you? No?’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said, ‘and
better before I go:
but by my truth I wondered
now if ye
have had good luck, for now
men shall it see.
41.
For everyone some goodly
adventure
is sometimes shaped, if he
can receive it:
and if when it comes he
chooses to ignore
it willfully, and take no
notice of it,
lo, neither chance nor
fortune cause it,
but simply his own sloth and
wretchedness:
and such a one is to be
blamed, I guess.
42.
Good adventure, O fair
niece, have ye
readily found, if you can it
grasp:
and for the love of God and
of me
seize it now lest adventure
lapse.
Why should I longer story of
it make?
Give me your hand for in
this world is none
if this pleases you, who
fortune so shines on.
43.
And since I speak with good
intention
as I have told you truly
here before,
and love as truly your
honour and renown,
as that of any creature to
this world born:
by all the oaths that I have
you sworn,
if you are angered or think
these lies,
I shall never see you again
with these eyes.
44.
Do not be aghast or quake:
why should you?
and do not change, from fear
so, your hue:
for indeed, the worst of
this is through.
And though my tale as now be
to you new,
yet trust me always, and you
will find me true:
and if it were a thing I
thought unfitting,
to you I would not such a
tale bring.’
45.
‘Now my good uncle, for
god’s love I pray’
she said, ‘Be quick and tell
me what it is:
since I am both aghast at
what you’ll say,
and yet also I long to know
of this.
For whether it be good or
something amiss
say on, let me not in this
fear dwell.’
‘So I will do: now listen, I
shall tell.
46.
Now, my niece, the king’s
dear son,
the good, wise, worthy,
fresh and free,
who always wishes what he
does well done,
the noble Troilus, so loves
thee,
that, unless you aid him, it
will his bane be.
Lo, here is all of it, what
more say I?
Do what you will, to make
him live or die.
47.
But if you let him die, I’ll
take my life:
have here my truth, niece: I
will not lie,
I would cut my throat with
this knife.’
At this the tears burst from
his eyes,
and he said: ‘If you cause
us both to die,
both guiltless, then good
fishing you’ve enjoyed.
What do you gain if we are
both destroyed?
48.
Alas, he who is my lord so
dear,
that true man, that noble
gentle knight,
who desires nothing but your
friendly cheer,
I see him dying though he
stands upright:
and hastens on, with all his
might,
to be cut down, if fortune
gives assent.
Alas that God you such
beauty sent!
49.
If it be so that you so
cruel be
that in his death you no
take no interest
(he so true and worthy, as
you see),
no more than that of
trickster or of wretch:
if you be such, your beauty
may not stretch
as far as atonement for so
cruel an act:
it is good to consider well
before the fact.
50.
Woe to the fair gem that is
virtueless!
Woe to the herb also that
does no good!
Woe to that beauty that is
ruthless!
Woe to the man who treads
others underfoot!
And you, that are of beauty
the crop and root,
if, with all that, in you
there is no ruth,
then it’s sad you are alive,
by my truth.
51.
And also think well that
this is no fraud:
for I would rather you and I
and he
were hanged, than that I
should be his bawd,
so high that men might all
openly us see.
I am your uncle: it would be
shame to me,
as well as you, if I gave
assent,
through abetting him, and he
your honour rent.
52.
Now understand, that I do
not desire
to bind you to him formally,
but only that you show him
better cheer
than you have done till now,
and be
more kind, so his life is
saved, at the least.
This all and some, and
plainly, is my intent.
God help me so, I have no
other meant.
53.
Lo this request is
reasonable, it is:
there is no cause for doubt,
by God no:
I think the worst that you
might dread is this,
that men would wonder to see
him come and go:
Against that I straight away
argue so,
that ever man, unless he’s a
fool by kind,
will judge it friendship’s
love in his mind.
54.
What? Who will judge, though
he see a man
to temple go, that he the
images eat?
Think, then, how well and
wisely he can
govern himself, that nothing
he forgets,
that, where he comes, praise
and thanks he gets:
and add to that, he shall
come here so seldom,
what matter that all the town
beheld him?
55.
Such love between friends
rules all this town:
and hide yourself with that
cloak, forever so:
And as God is ever my
salvation,
as I have said, your best is
to do so,
but always, good niece, to
soothe his woe,
soften a little your disdain,
that for his death you are
not to blame.’
56.
Cressida who heard him speak
in this wise,
thought: ‘I shall find out
what his meaning is.’
‘Now uncle,’ she said, ‘what
would you devise,
what do you think I should
make of this?’
‘That is well said,’ he
answered: best it is
for you to love him again
for his loving,
as love for love is just
rewarding.
57.
Think then how age wastes,
every hour,
in every one of you, a part
of beauty:
and therefore, before age
you devours,
go love, for old no man will
want thee.
Let this proverb as a law to
you be:
“ ‘Aware too late’, said
Beauty, ‘when it’s past.’ ”
And age defeats disdain at
the last.
58.
The
king’s fool is given to cry aloud,
when
he thinks a woman is too high:
“So
long may you live, and just as proud,
till the crow’s-feet grow
under your eye,
and send for a mirror then
for you to pry
in, where you may see your
face tomorrow!”
Niece, I cannot wish you
greater sorrow.’
59.
With this he ceased, and
cast down his head
and
she burst out weeping at once,
and
said: ‘Alas, for woe! Why am I not dead?
For
in this world all faith is gone.
Alas
what would strangers to me have done
when he I thought the best
friend to me,
tells me to love, yet should
forbid me?
60.
Alas! I could have trusted,
doubtless,
that if I through any
misadventure
had loved either him, or Achilles,
Hector or any mortal creature,
you would have had of mercy
no measure
for me, but always
reproached me,
this false world, alas!, who
may it believe?
61.
What? Is this all the joy
and all the feast?
Is this your counsel: is
this my blissful case?
Is this, of your promise,
the true bequest?
Is all this specious
argument, alas,
only for this sin? O lady
mine, Pallas,
you in this dreadful case
for me provide,
for I am so astonished that
I die.’
62.