“O blacke Night! as folk in bookes read
That shapen* art by God, this world to hide, *appointed
At certain times, with thy darke weed,* *robe
That under it men might in rest abide,
Well oughte beastes plain, and folke chide,
That where as Day with labour would us brest,* *burst, overcome
There thou right flee’st, and deignest* not us rest.* *grantest
“Thou dost, alas! so shortly thine office,* *duty
Thou rakel* Night! that God, maker of kind, *rash, hasty
Thee for thy haste and thine unkinde vice,
So fast ay to our hemisphere bind,
That never more under the ground thou wind;* *turn, revolve
For through thy rakel hieing* out of Troy *hasting
Have I forgone* thus hastily my joy!” *lost
This Troilus, that with these wordes felt,
As thought him then, for piteous distress,
The bloody teares from his hearte melt,
As he that never yet such heaviness
Assayed had out of so great gladness,
Gan therewithal Cresside, his lady dear,
In armes strain, and said in this mannere:
“O cruel Day! accuser of the joy
That Night and Love have stol’n, and *fast y-wrien!* *closely
Accursed be thy coming into Troy! concealed*
For ev’ry bow’r* hath one of thy bright eyen: *chamber
Envious Day! Why list thee to espyen?
What hast thou lost? Why seekest thou this place?
There God thy light so quenche, for his grace!
“Alas! what have these lovers thee aguilt?* *offended, sinned against
Dispiteous* Day, thine be the pains of hell! *cruel, spiteful
For many a lover hast thou slain, and wilt;
Thy peering in will nowhere let them dwell:
What! proff’rest thou thy light here for to sell?
Go sell it them that smalle seales grave!* *cut devices on
We will thee not, us needs no day to have.”
And eke the Sunne, Titan, gan he chide,
And said, “O fool! well may men thee despise!
That hast the Dawning <63> all night thee beside,
And suff’rest her so soon up from thee rise,
For to disease* us lovers in this wise! *annoy
What! hold* thy bed, both thou, and eke thy Morrow! *keep
I bidde* God so give you bothe sorrow!” *pray
The lovers part with many sighs and protestations of unswerving and undying love; Cressida responding to the vows of Troilus with the assurance —
“That first shall Phoebus* falle from his sphere, *the sun
And heaven’s eagle be the dove’s fere,
And ev’ry rock out of his place start,
Ere Troilus out of Cressida’s heart.”
When Pandarus visits Troilus in his palace later in the day, he warns him not to mar his bliss by any fault of his own:
“For, of Fortune’s sharp adversity,
The worste kind of infortune is this,
A man to have been in prosperity,
And it remember when it passed is.<64>
Thou art wise enough; forthy,*” do not amiss; *therefore
Be not too rakel,* though thou sitte warm; *rash, over-hasty
For if thou be, certain it will thee harm.