She is moved, but not vanquished; it will take yet many incidents; they will all be small, trivial, insignificant, and will appear to her solemn, superhuman, ordered by the gods. She may recover, at times, before Pandarus, her presence of mind, her childlike laugh, and baffle his wiles: for the double-story continues. Cressida is still able to unravel the best-laid schemes of Pandarus, but she is less and less able to unravel the tangled web of her own sentiments. The meshes draw closer; now she promises a sisterly friendship: even that had been already invented in the fourteenth century. She can no longer see Troilus without blushing; he passes and bows: how handsome he is!
... She hath now caught a thorn;
She shal not pulle it out this next wyke.
God sende mo swich thornes on to pyke![515]
The passion and merits of Troilus, the inventions of Pandarus, the secret good-will of Cressida, a thunderstorm which breaks out opportunely (we know how impressionable Cressida is), lead to the result which might be expected: the two lovers are face to face. Troilus, like a sensitive hero, swoons: for he is extremely sensitive; when the town acclaims him, he blushes and looks down; when he thinks his beloved indifferent he takes to his bed from grief, and remains there all day; in the presence of Cressida, he loses consciousness. Pandarus revives him, and is not slow to perceive that he is no longer wanted:
For ought I can espyen
This light nor I ne serven here of nought.
And he goes, adding, however, one more recommendation:
If ye ben wyse,
Swowneth not now, lest more folk aryse.[516]
What says Cressida?—What may "the sely larke seye" when "the sparhauk" has caught it? Cressida, however, says something, and, of all the innumerable forms of avowal, chooses not the least sweet:
Ne hadde I er now, my swete herte dere
Ben yolde, y-wis, I were now not here![517]
Were they happy?
But juggeth, ye that han ben at the feste
Of swich gladnesse.[518]