Sir Philip Sidney |
Here now haue you (most deare, and most worthy to be most deare Lady) this idle worke of mine: which I fear (like the Spiders webbe) will be thought fitter to be swept away, then worn to any other purpose. For my part, in very trueth (as the cruell fathers among the Greekes, were woont to doo to the babes they would not foster) I could well find in my harte, to cast out in some desert of forgetfulnes this child, which I am loath to father. But you desired me to doo it, and your desire, to my hart is an absolute commandement. now, it is done onelie for you, onely to you: if you keepe it to your selfe, or to such friendes, who will weigh errors in the ballaunce of good will, I hope, for the fathers sake, it will be pardoned, perchaunce made much of, though in it selfe it haue deformities. For indeede, for seuerer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflinnglie handled. Your deare selfe can best witnes the maner, being done in loose sheetes of paper, most of it in your presence, the rest, by sheetes, sent vnto you, as fast as they were done. In summe, a young head, not so well stayed as I would it were, (and shall be when God will) hauing many more fancies begotten in it, if it had not ben in some way deliuered, would haue growen a monster, & more sorie might I be that they came in, then that they got out. But his chiefe safetie, shalbe the not walking abroad; & his chiefe protection, the bearing the liuery of your name; which (if much much good will not deceaue me) is worthy to be a sa[n]ctuary for a greater offender. This say I, because I knowe the vertue so; and this say I, because it may be euer so; or to say better, because it will be euer so. Read it then at your idle tymes, and the follyes your good iudgement wiwl finde in it, blame not, but laugh at. And so, looking for no better stuffe, then, as in an Haberdashers shoppe, glasses, or feathers, you will continue to loue the writer, who doth exceedinglie loue you; and most most hartelie praies you may long liue, to be a pricipall ornament to the family of the Sidneis.
Your louing Brother
Philip Sidnei.
The diuision and summing of the Chapters was not of Sir Philip Sidneis dooing, but aduentured by the ouer-seer of the print, for the more ease of the Readers. He therfore submits himselfe to their iudgement, and if his labour answere not the worthines of the booke, desireth pardon for it. As also if any defect be found in the Eclogues, which although they were of Sir Phillip Sidneis writing, yet were they not perused by him, but left till the worke had bene finished, that then choise should haue bene made, which should haue bene taken, and in what manner brought in. At this time they haue bene chosen and disposed as the ouer-seer thought best.
C H A P. I.
1 The shepherdish complaints of the absented louers Strephon
and Claius. 2 The second shipwrack of Pyrocles and
Musidorus. Their strange sauing, 3 enteruiew, and
4 parting.It was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new apparel against
1 the approach of her louer, and that the Sun ru[n]ning a most eue[n] course becums an indifferent arbiter betweene the night and the day; when the hopelesse shepheard Strephon was come to the sandes, which lie against the Island of Cithera; where viewing the place with a heauy kinde of delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the Ileward, he called his friendly riuall, the pastor Claius vnto him, and setting first downe in his darkened countenance a dolefull copie of what he would speake: O my Claius, said he, hether we are now come to pay the rent, for which we are so called vnto by ouer-busie Remembrance, restlesse Remembrance, which claymes not onely this dutie of vs, but for it will haue vs forget our selues. I pray you when wee were amid our flocke, and that of other shepeheardes some were running after their sheep strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble vpon the short and sweete grasse, some medicining their sick ewes, some setting a bell for an ensigne of a sheepish squadron, some with more leasure inuenting new games of exercising their bodies & sporting their wits: did Remembrance grount vs any holiday, eyther for pastime or deuotion, nay either for necessary foode or naturall rest? but that still it forced our thoughts to worke vpo[n] this place, where we last (alas that the word last should so long last) did gaze our eyes vpon her euer flourishing beautie: did it not still crie within vs? Ah you base minded wretches, are your thoughts so deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as for respect of gaine some paultry wooll may yeeld you, to let so much time passe without knowing perfectly her estate, especially in so troublesome a season? to leaue that shore vnsaluted, from whence you may see to the Island where she dwelleth? to leaue those steps vnkissed wherein Vrania printed the farewell of all beautie? Wel then, Remembraunce commaunded, we obeyed, and here we finde, that as our remembraunce came euer cloathed vnto vs in the forme of this place, so this place giues newe heate to the feauer of our languishing remembrance. Yonder my Claius, Vrania lighted, the verie horse (me thought) bewayled to be so disburdened: and as for thee, poore Claius, when thou wentst to help her downe, I saw reuerence and desire so deuide thee, that thou didst at one instant both blushe and quake, and in stead of bearing her, weart ready to fall downe thy selfe. There shee sate, vouchsafing my cloake (then most gorgeous) vnder her: at yonder rising of the ground she turned her selfe, looking backe toward her woonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much sorrow in hir eyes, the lightsomnes whereof had yet so naturall a cherefulnesse, as it made euen sorrow seeme to smile; at that turning she spake vnto vs all, opening the cherrie of hir lips, & Lord how greedily mine eares did feed vpon the sweete words she vttered? And here she laide her hand ouer thine eyes, when shee saw the teares springing in them, as if she would conceale them from other, and yet her selfe feele some of thy sorrow: But woe is me, yonder, yonder, did she put her foote into the boate, at that instant as it were deuiding her heauenly beautie, betweene the Earth and the Sea. But when she was imbarked, did you not marke how the windes whistled, & the seas daunst for ioy, how the sailes did swel with pride, and all because they had Vrania? O Vrania, blessed be thou Vrania, the sweetest fairenesse and fairest sweetenesse: with that worde his voice brake so with sobbing, that he could say no further; and Claius thus answered. Alas my Strephon (said he) what needes this skore to recken vp onely our losses? What doubt is there, but that the light of this place doth call our thoughtes to appeare at the court of affection, held by that racking steward, Remembraunce? Aswell may sheepe forget to feare when they spie woolues, as wee can misse such fancies, when wee see any place made happie by her treading. Who can choose that saw her but thinke where she stayed, where she walkt, where she turned, where she spoke? But what is all this? truely no more, but as this place serued vs to thinke of those thinges, so those thinges serue as places to call to memorie more excellent matters. No, no, let vs thinke with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with loue, and loue with ioy in the midst of all woes: let vs in such sorte thinke, I say, that our poore eyes were so inriched as to behold, and our low hearts so exalted as to loue, a maide, who is such, that as the greatest thing the world can shewe, is her beautie, so the least thing that may be prayed in her, is her beautie. Certainely as her eye-lids are more pleasant to behold, then two white kiddes climing vp a faire tree, and browsing on his tendrest braunches, and yet are nothing, compared to the day-shining starres contayned in them; and as her breath is more sweete then a gentle South-west wind, which comes creeping ouer flowrie fieldes and shaddowed waters in the extreeme heate of summer, and yet is nothing, compared to the hony flowing speach that breath doth carrie: no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when they haue seene her, what else they shall euer see is but drie stuble after clouers grasse) is to bee matched with the flocke of vnspeakable vertues laid vp delightfully in that best builded folde. But in deede as wee can better consider the sunnes beautie, by marking how he guides those waters, and mountaines them by looking vpon his owne face, too glorious for our weake eyes: so it may be our conceits (not able to beare her sun-stayning excellencie) will better way it by her workes vpon some meaner subiect employed. And alas, who can better witnesse that then we, whose experience is grounded vpon feeling? hath not the onely loue of her made vs (being silly ignorant shepheards) raise vp our thoughts aboue the ordinary leuell of the worlde, so as great clearkes do not disdaine our conference? hath not the desire to seeme worthie in her eyes made vs when others were sleeping, to sit vewing the course of heauens? when others were running at base, to runne ouer learned writings? when other marke their sheepe, we to marke our selues? hath not shee throwne reason vpon our desires, and, as it were giuen eyes vnto Cupid? hath in any, but in her, loue-fellowship maintained friendship betweene riuals, and beautie taught the beholders chastitie? He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bad him stay, & looke: & so they both perceaued a thing which floted drawing nearer and nearer to the banke; but rather by the fauourable working of the Sea, then by any selfe industrie. They doubted a while what it should be; till it was cast vp euen hard before the[m]: at which time they fully saw that it was a man: Wherupon running for pitie sake vnto him, they found his hands (as it should appeare, constanter frends to his life then his memorie) fast griping vpon the edge of a square small coffer, which lay all vnder his breast: els in him selfe no shew of life, so as the boord seemed to bee but a beere to cary him a land to his Sepulchre. So drew they vp a young man of so goodly shape and well pleasing fauour, that one would think death had in him a louely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him an apparell. That sight increased their compassion, and their compassion called vp their care; so that lifting his feete aboue his head, making a great deale of salt water to come out of his mouth, they layd him vpon some of their garments, and fell to rub and chafe him, till they brought him to recouer both breath the seruant, & warmth the companion of liuing. At length, opening his eyes, he gaue a great groane, (a dolefull note but a pleasant dittie) for by that, they found not onely life, but strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their charitable office, vntil (his spirits being well returned,) hee (without so much as thanking them for their paines) gate vp, and looking round about to the vttermost lymittes of his sight, and crying vpon the name of Pyrocles, nor seeing nor hearing cause of comfort: what (said he) and shall Musidorus liue after Pyrocles? therewithall he offered willfully to cast destruction & himselfe againe into the sea: a strange sight to the shepheards, to whom it seemed, that before being in apparance dead had yet saued his life, and now comming to his life, shoulde be a cause to procure his death; but they ranne vnto him, and pulling him backe, (then too feeble for them) by force stickled that vnnatural fray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what such right haue you in me, as not to suffer me to doe with my self what I list? and what pollicie haue you to bestow a benefite where it is counted an iniury? They hearing him speake in Greek (which was their naturall language) became the more tender hearted towards him; and considering by his calling and looking, that the losse of some deare friend was great cause of his sorow, told hime they were poore men that were bound by course of humanitie to preuent so great a mischiefe, and that they wisht him, if opinion of some bodies perishing bred such desperate anguish in him, that he should be comforted by his owne proofe, who had lately escaped as aparant danger as any might be. No, no (said hee) it is not for me to attend so high a blissefulnesse: but since you take care of mee, I pray you finde meanes that some Barke may be prouided, that will goe out of the hauen, that if it be possible we may finde the body farre farre too precious a foode for fishes: and for the hire (said he) I haue within this casket, sufficient to content them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, & hauing agreed with him, and prouided some apparell for the naked stranger, he imbarked, and the Shepheards with him: and were no sooner gone beyond the mouth of the hauen, but that some way into the sea they might discerne (as it were) a stayne of the waters colour, and by times some sparkes and smoke mounting thereout. But the young man no sooner saw it, but that beating his brest, he cried, that there was the beginning of his ruine, intreating them to bend their course as neere vnto it as they could: telling, how that smoake was but a small relique of a great fire, which had driue[n] both him & his friend rather to committe themselues to the cold mercie of the sea, then to abide the hote crueltie of the fire: and that therefore, though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was (if any where) in that course to be met withall. They steared therefore as neere thetherward as they could: but when they came so neere as their eies were ful masters of the obiect, they saw a sight full of piteous strangenes: a ship, or rather the carkas of the shippe, or rather some few bones of the carkas, hulling there, part broken, part burned, part drowned: death hauing vsed more then one dart to that destruction. About it floted great store of very rich thinges, and many chestes which might promise no lesse. And amidst the precious things were a number of dead bodies, which likewise did not onely testifie both eleme[n]ts violence, but that the chiefe violence was growen of humane inhumanitie: for their bodies were ful of grisly wounds, & their bloud had (as it were) filled the wrinckles of the seas visage: which it seemed the sea coulde not washe away, that it might witnes it is not alwaies his fault, when we condemne his crueltie: in summe, a defeate, where the conquered kept both field and spoile: a shipwrack without storme or ill footing: and a wast of fire in the midst of water.
But a litle way off they saw the mast, whose proude height now lay along; like a widdow hauing lost her make of whom she held her honor: but vpon the mast they sawa yong man (at least if he were a man) bearing shew of about 18. yeares of age, who sate (as on horsback) hauing nothing vpon him but his shirt, which being wrought with blew silk & gold; had a kind of resemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then neare his Westerne home) did shoote some of his beames. His haire (which the young men of Greece vsed to weare very long) was stirred vp & down with the wind, which seemed to haue a sport to play with it, as the sea had to kisse his feet; himselfe full of admirable beautie, set foorth by the strangenes both of his seate & gesture: for, holding his head vp full of vnmoued maiestie, he held a sworde aloft with his faire arme, which often he waued about his crowne as though he would threaten the world in that extremitie. But the fishermen, when they came so neere him, that it was time to throwe out a rope, by which hold they might draw him, their simplicity bred such amasement, & their amasement such a superstitio[n], that (assuredly thinking it was some God begotten betweene Neptune and Venus, that had made all this terrible slaughter) as they went vnder sayle by him, held vp their hands, and made their prayers. Which when Musidorus sawe, though he were almost as much rauished with ioy, as they with astonishment, he lept to the Mariner, and tooke the rope out of his hande and (saying, doest thou liue, and arte well? who answered, thou canst tell best, since most of my well beyng standes in thee,) threwe it out, but alreadie the shippe was past beyond Pyrocles: and therefore Musidorus could doo no more but perswade the Mariners to cast about againe, assuring them that hee was but a man, although of most diuine excellencies, and promising great rewardes for their paine.
And now they were altreadie come vpon the staies, when one of the saylers descried a Galley which came with sayles and oares directlie in the chase of them; and streight perceuaed it was a well knowne Pirate, who hunted not onely for goodes but for bodies of menne, which hee imployed eyther to bee his Galley slaues, or to sell at the best market. Which when the Maister vnderstood, he commaunded forthwith to set on all the canuasse they could, and flie homeward, leauing in that sort poore Pyrocles so neere to be rekewed. But what did not Musidorus say? what did he not offer to perswade them to venture the fight? But feare standing at the gates of their eares, put back all perswasions: for that hee had nothing to accompanie Pyrocles, but his eyes; nor to succour him, but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look that way he saw the Galley leaue the pursuite of them, & turne to take vp the spoiles of the other wrack: and lastly he might well see them lift vp the yong man; and alas (said he to himselfe) deere Pyrocles shall that bodie of thine be enchayned? shall those victorious handes of thine be commaunded to base offices? shall vertue become a slaue to those that be slaues to viciousnes? Alas, better had it bene had it bene thou hadst ended nobly thy noble daies: what death is so euill as vnworthy seruitude? But that opinion soone ceased when he saw the gallie setting vpon an other ship, which held long and strong fight with her: for then he began a fresh to feare the life of his friende, and to wish well to the Pirates whome before he hated, least in their ruyne hee might perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the hauen, that they absented his eyes from beholding the issue: where being entred, he could procure neither them nor any other as then to put themselues into the sea: so that beyng as full of sorrow for being vnable to doe any thing, as voide of counsell how to doe any thing besides, that sicknesse grew something vpon him, the honest shepheards Strephon and Claius (who being themselues true friendes, did the more perfectly iudge the iustnesse of his sorrowe) aduise him, that he should mitigate somwhat of his woe, since he had gotten an amendment in fortune, being come from assured persuasion of his death, to haue no cause to dispaire of his life. as one that had lamented the death of his sheepe, should after know they were but strayed, would receiue pleasure though readily hee knew not where to finde them.CHAP. 2.
1 The pastors comfortes to the wracked Musidorus. 2 His
passage into Arcadia. The descriptions of 3 Laconia,
4 Arcadia, Kalanders 5 person, 6 house, and 7 enter-
tainement to Musidorus, now called Palladius. His
8 sicknes, recouery, 9 and perfections.Now sir (saide they) thus for our selues it is. Wee are in profession but shepheards,
1 and in this countrie of Laconia little better then strangers, and therefore neither in skill, nor habilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what we can present vnto you is this: Arcadia, of which countrie wee are, is but a little way hence, and euen vpon the next confines.
There dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander, who vouchsafeth much fauour vnto vs: A man who
5 for his hospitalitie is so much haunted, that no newes sturre, but comes to his eares, for his vpright dealing so beloued of his neighbours, that he hath many euer readie to doe him their vttermost seruice, and by the great good will our Prince beares him, may soone obtaine the vse of his name and credit, which hath a principall swaie, not only in his owne Arcadia but in al these cou[n]tries of Peloponnesus: and (which is worth all) all these things giue him not so much power, as his nature giues him will to benefit: so that it seemes no Musicke is so sweet to his eare as deserued thankes. To him we will bring you, & there you may recouer againe your helth, without which you can[n]ot be able to make any diligent search for your friend: and therefore but in that respect, you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the co[m]fort of curtesie, & ease of wise counsell shall not be wanting.
Musidorus (who
2 besides he was meerely vnacquainted in the cou[n]trie had his wits astonished with sorow) gaue easie consent to that, fro[m] which he saw no reason to disagree: & therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestowed vpon the[m]) they tooke their iourney together through Laconia; Claius & Strephon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his cou[n]tenance euide[n]t marks of a sorowful mind supported with a weak bodie, which they perceiuing, & knowing that the violence of sorow is not at the first to be striue[n] withal: (being like a mighty beast, soner tamed with following, tha[n] ouerthrowe[n] by withsta[n]ding) they gaue way vnto it for that day & the next; neuer troubling him, either with asking questions, or finding fault with his mela[n]cholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their own & other folks misfortunes. Which speeches, thogh they had not a liuely entra[n]ce to his se[n]ces shut vp in sorow, yet like one half asleep, he toke hold of much of the matters spoken vnto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow was aware, they made his thoughts beare away something els beside his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at le[n]gth he grew co[n]tent to mark their speeches, then to maruel at such wit in shepheardes, after to like their company, & lastly to vouchsafe confere[n]ce: so that the 3. day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses & violets in the heauenly floore against the com[m]ing of the Sun, the nightingales (striuing one with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorow) made the[m] put of their sleepe, & rising fro[m] vnder a tree (which that night had bin their pavilio[n]) they went on their iorney, which by & by welcomed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightful prospects. There were hilles which garnished
4 their proud heights with stately trees: hu[m]ble valleis, whose base estate semed co[m]forted with refreshing of siluer riuers: medows, enameld with al sorts of ey-pleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasa[n]t shade, were witnessed so to by the chereful depositio[n] of many wel-tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the prety la[m]bs with bleting oratory craued the dame co[m]fort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should neuer be old: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, & it seemed that her voice co[m]sorted her hands to work, & her ha[n]ds kept time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the cou[n]try (for many houses came vnder their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by th'other, & yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succour: a shew, as it were, of an acco[m]panable solitarines, & of a ciuil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus, then first vnsealing his long silent lips) what cou[n]tries be these we passe through, which are so diuers in shew, the one wa[n]ting no store, th'other hauing no store but of want.
The country (answered
3 Claius) where you were cast a shore, & now are past through, is Laconia, not so poore by the barrennes of the soyle (though in it selfe not passing fertill) as by a ciuill warre, which being these two yeares within the bowels of that estate, betweene the gentlemen & the peasants, (by them named Helots) hath in this sorte as it were disfigured the face of nature, and made it so vnhospitall as now you haue found it: the townes neither of the one side nor the other, willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entring for feare of being mistaken.
But this countrie (where
4 now you set your foote) is Arcadia: and euen harde by is the house of Kalander whether we lead you: this countrie being thus decked with peace, and (the childe of peace) good husbandrie. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that liue vpon the commoditie of their sheepe: and therefore in the diuision of the Arcadian estate are termed shepheards; a happie people, wanting litle, because they desire not much. What cause then, said Musidorus, made you venter to leaue this sweete life, and put your selfe in yonder vnpleasant and dangerous realme? Garded with pouertie (answered Strephon) & guided with loue: But now (said Claius) since it hath pleased you to aske any thing of vs whose basenes is such as the very knwledge is darknes: geue vs leaue to know somthing of you, & of the young
man you so much lament, that at least we may be the better instructed to enforme Kalender, and he the better know how to proportion his entertainement. Musidorus (according to the agreement betweene Pyrocles and him to alter thier names) answered, that he called himself Palladius, and his friend Daiphantus; but till I haue him againe (said he) I am in deed nothing: and therefore my storie is of nothing, his entertainement (since so good a man he is) cannot be so lowe as I account my estate: and in summe, the summe of all, his curtesie may be to helpe me by some meanes to seeke my frend.
They perceiued he was not willing to open himselfe further, and therefore without further questioning
6 brought him to the house: about which they might see (with fitte consideration both of the ayre, the prospect, and the nature of the ground) all such necessarie additions, to a great house, as might well shewe, Kalender knew that provision is the foundation of hospitalitie, and thrift the fewell of magnificence. The house it selfe was built of faire and strong stone, not affecting so much any exraordinarie kinde of finenes, as an honorable representing of a firme statelines. The lightes, doores and staires, rather directed to the vse of the guest, then to the eye of the Artificer: and yet as the one cheefely heeded, so the other not neglected; each place handsome without curiositie, and homely without lothsomnes: not so daintie as not to be trode on, nor yet slubberd vp with good felowshippe: all more lasting then beautifull, but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingnesse made the eye beleeue it was exceeding beautifull. The seruants not so many in number, as cleanlie in apparell, and seruiceable in behauiour, testifying euen in their countanaunces, that their maister tooke aswell care to be serued, as of the[m] that did serue. One of them was forth-with readie to welcome the shepheards, as men, who though they were were poore, their master greatly fauoured: and vnderstanding by them, that the young man with whrm was to be much accounted of, for that they had seene tokens of more then common greatnes, how so euer now eclipsed with fortune: He ranne to his master, who came presentlie foorth, and pleasantly welcomming the shepheardes, but especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon priuately told him allwhat he knew of him, and particularly that hee found this stranger was loath to be knowen.
No said Kalander
7 (speaking alowd) I am no herald to enquire of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues: which (if this young mands face be not a false witnes) doe better apparell his minde, then you haue done his body. While hee was speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Merchants prentice, who taking Strephon by the sleeue, deliuered him a letter written ioyntly both to him and Claius from Vrania: which they no sooner had read, but that with short leaue-taking of Kalander (who quickly ghest and smiled at the matter) and once againe (though hastely) recommending the yong man vnto him, they went away, leauing Musidorus euen lothe to part with them, for the good conuersation he had of them, & obligation he accounted himselfe tied in vnto them: and therefore, they deliuering his chest vnto him, he opened it, and would haue presented the[m] with two very rich iewels, but they absolutelie refused them, telling him they were more then enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without herkening vnto a replie (like men whose harts disdained all desires but one) gate speedely away, as if the letter had brought wings to make them flie. But by that sight Kalander soone iudged that his guest was of no meane calling, and therefore the more respectfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sicknes (which the fight, the sea, and late trauell had layd vpon him) grow greatly: so that fearing some suddaine accident, he deliuered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most pretious stones, gorgeously & cunningly set in duerse maners, desiring him he would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and redeeme a young man, naming himselfe Daiphantus, as then in the handes of Laconia pirates.
But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with carefull speede conueyed him to the
8 most com[m]odious lodging in his house: where being possest with an extreeme burning feuer, he co[n]tinued some while with no great hope of life: but youth at length got the victorie of sicknesse, so that in six weekes the excellencie of his returned beautie was a credible embassadour of his health; to the great ioy of Kalander: who, as in this time he had by certaine friendes of his that dwelt neare the Sea in Messenia, set foorth a shippe and a galley to seeke and succour Daiphantus: so at home did hee omit nothing which he thought might eyther profite or gratifie Palladius.
For hauing found in
9 him (besides his bodily giftes beyond the degree of Admiration) by dayly discourses which he delighted him selfe to haue with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing witte quite voide of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a harte of courtesie, an eloquence as sweete in the vttering, as slowe to come to the vttering, a behauoiur so noble, as gaue a maiestie to aduersitie: and all in a man whose age could not be aboue one & twenty yeares,) the good old man was euen enamoured with a fatherly loue towards him; or rather became his seruaunt by the bondes such vertue laid vpon him; once hee acknowledged him selfe so to be, by the badge of diligent attendance.
CHAP. 3.
The 1 pictures of Kalanders dainty garden-house. His narra-
tion of the 2 Arcadian estate, 3 the King, 4 the Queene,
5 their two daughters, and 6 their guardians, with their
qualities, which is the ground of all this storie.Bvt Palladius hauing gotten his health, and onely staying there to be in place, where he might heare answere of the shippes set foorth, Kalander one afternoone led him abroad to a wel arayed ground he had behind his house, which hee thought to shewe him before his going, as the place him selfe more then in any other delighted: the backeside of the house was neyther field, garden, nor orchard; or rather it was both fielde, garden, and orcharde: for as soone as the descending of the stayres had deliuered them downe, they came into a place cunninglie set with trees of the moste tast-pleasing fruites: but scarcelie they had taken that into their consideration, but that they were suddainely stept into a delicate greene, of each side of the greene a thicket bend, behinde the thickets againe new beddes of flowers, which being vnder the trees, the trees were to them a Pauilion, and they to the trees a mosaical floore: so that it seemed that arte therein would needes be delightfull by counterfaiting his enemie error, and making order in confusion.
In the middest of all the place, was a faire ponde, whose shaking christall was
1 a perfect mirrour to all the other beauties, so that it bare shewe of two gardens; one in deede, the other in shaddowes: and in one of the thickets was a fine fountaine made thus. A naked Venus of white marble, wherein the grauer had vsed such cunning, that the naturall blew veines of the marble were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beautifull veines of her bodie. At her brest she had her babe Æneas, who seemed (hauing begun to sucke) to leaue that, to looke vpon her fayre eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, the meane while the breast running. Hard by was a house of pleasure builte for a Sommer retiring place, where Kalander leading him, he found a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the most excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when Actæon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame & disdaine; & one of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and withal lowring, one might see the workman meant to set forth teares of anger. In another table was Atalanta; the posture of whose lims was so liuelie expressed, that if the eyes were the only iudges, as they be the onely seers, one would haue sworne the very picture had runne. Besides many mo, as of Helena, Omphale, Iole: but in none of them all beautie seemed to speake so much as in a large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of midle age, but of excelle[n]t beautie; & more excelle[n]t would haue bene deemed, but that stood betweene the[m] a yong maid, whose wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but that, which it might seeme she gaue her backe againe by her very shadow. And such differe[n]ce, being knowne that it did in deed counterfeit a person liuing, was there betweene her and al the other, though Goddesses, that it seemd the skill of the painter bestowed on the other new beautie, but that the beautie of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought inquistiuenes an vncomely guest, he could not choose but aske who she was, that bearing shew of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inuentio[n]. Kalander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the yonger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were conteined in that Table: the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the young Ladie, who stood watched by an ouer-curious eye of her parents: & that he would also haue drawne her eldest sister, estemed her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire; but that the rude clown her gardia[n] would not suffer it: nether durst he aske leaue of the Prince for feare of suspitio[n] Palladius perceaued that the matter was wrapt vp in some secrecie, and therefore would for modestie demaund no further: but yet his countenance could not but with dumme Eloquence desire it: Which Kalander perceauing, well said he, my deere guest, I know your minde, and I will satisfie it: neyther will I doo it like a niggardly answerer, going no further then the boundes of the question, but I will discouer vnto you, aswell that wherein my knowledge is common with others, as that which by extraordinarie means is deliuered vnto me: knowing so much in you, though not long acquainted, that I shall find your eares faithfull treasurers. So then sitting downe in two chaires, and sometimes casting his eye to the picture, he thus spake.
This countrie
2 Arcadia among all the prouinces of Greece, hath euer beene had in singular reputation: partly for the sweetnesse of the ayre, and other natural benefites, but principally for the well tempered minds of the people, who (finding that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other nations, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are the onely people, which as by their Iustice and pruidence geue neither cause nor hope to their neyghbours to annoy them, so are they not sturred with false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their owne liues in rauening, that their posteritie should long liue after saie, they had done so. Euen the Muses seeme to approue their good determinatio[n], by chosing this countrie for their chiefe repairing place, & by bestowing their perfections so largely here, that the very shepheards haue their fancies lifted to so high conceits, as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their names, and imitate their cunning.
Here dwelleth, and raigneth this Prince (whose picture you see) by name Basilius,
3 a Prince of sufficient skill to gouerne so quiet a countrie, where the good minds of the former princes had set down good lawes, and the well bringing vp of the people doth serue as a most sure bond to hold the[m]. But to be plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous loue of his people, wherein he doth not only passe al his owne fore-goers, but as I thinke al the princes liuing. Wherof the cause is, that though he exceed not in the vertues which get admiration; as depth of wisdome, height of courage and largenesse of magnificence, yet is hee notable in those whiche stirre affection, as trueth of worde, meekenesse, courtesie, mercifulnesse, and liberalitie.
He being already
4 well striken in yeares, maried a young princes, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of notable beautie, as by her picture you see: a woman of great wit, and in truth of more princely vertues, then her husband: of most vnspotted chastitie, but of so working a minde, and so vehement spirits, as a man may say, it was happie shee tooke a good course: for otherwise it would haue beene terrible.
Of these two are brought
5 to the world two daughters, so beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable ceatures, that wee may thinke they were borne to shewe, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much so euer some men (sharpe witted onely in euill speaking) haue sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men not deemed inferiour to her sister: for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was (if at least such perfections may receyue the worde of more) more sweetnesse in Philoclea, but more maiestie in Pamela: mee thought loue plaide in Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas; me thought Philocleas beautie onely perswaded, but so perswaded as all harts must yeelde: Pamelas beautie vsed violence, and such violence as no hart could resist: and it seemes that such proportion is betweene their mindes; Philoclea so bashfull as though her excellencies had stolne into her before shee was aware: so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance: in summe, such proceeding as will stirre hope, but teach good man[n]ers. Pamela of high thoughts, who auoides not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to be voide of pride; her mothers wisdome, greatnesse, nobilitie, but (if I can ghesse aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then, our Basilius being so publickly happie as to be a Prince, and so happie in that happinesse as to be a beloued Prince, and so in his priuate blessed as to haue so excellent a wife, and so ouer-excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him more spoken of then all these blessings. For, hauing made a iourney to Delphos, and safely returned, within shor[t] space hee brake vp his court, and retired himself, his wife, and children into a certaine Forrest hereby, which hee calleth his desart, where in (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all houshold seruices,) hee hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them him self remaines with his younger daughter Philoclea, which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without hauing any other creature liuing in that lodge with him.
Which though it be
6 straunge, yet not so straunge, as the course he hath taken with the princesse Pamela, whom hee hath placed in the other lodge: but how thinke you accompanied? truly with none other, but one Dametas, the most arrant doltish clowne, that I thinke euer was without the priuiledge of a bable, with his wife Miso, and daughter Mopsa, in whome no witt can deuise anie thing wherein they maie pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serue for a foile of her perfections. This loutish clowne is such, that you neuer saw so ill fauourd a visar; his behauiour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparel, euen as I would wish him; Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that onely her face and her splayfoote haue made her accused for a witch; onely one good point she hath, that she obserues decoru[m], hauing a froward mind in a wretched body. Betweene these two personages (who neuer agreed in any humor, but in disagreeing) is issued forth mistresse Mopsa, a fitte woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes for a woman. These verses are these, which I haue so often caused to be song, that I haue them without booke.
What length of verse can serue braue Mopsas good to show?
Whose vertues strange, & beuties such, as no ma[n] may know
Thus shrewdly burdned the[n], how ca[n] my muse escape?
The gods must help, and pretious things must serue to shew her shape.
Like great god Saturn faire, and like faire Venus chaste:
As smoothe as Pan, as Iuno milde, like goddess Iris faste.
With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans pace:
And for a tast of all these giftes, she steales god Momus grace.
Her forhead iacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue,
Her twinkling eies bedect with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew:
Her haire like Crapal-stone, her mouth O heauenly wyde;
Her skin like burnisht gold, her hands like siluer vre vntryde.
As for her parts vnknowne, which hidden sure are best:
Happie be they which well beleeue, & neuer seeke the rest.Now truely hauing made these descriptions vnto you, me thinkes you should imagine that I rather faine some pleasant deuise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his own wits) could possibly make so vnworthie a choice. But truely (deare guest) so it is, that Princes, (whose doings haue beene often soothed with good successe) thinke nothing so absurde, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning of his credite was by the Princes straying out of the way, one time he hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the way, & so falling into the other questio[n]s, he found some of his aunswers (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to describe his kennel) not vnsensible, & all vttered with such rudenes, which he enterpreted plainnesse (though there be great difference betweene them) that Basilius conceauing a sodaine delight, tooke him to his Court, with apparant shew of his good opinion: where the flattering courtier had no sooner take[n] the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to confirme the Princes doing, & shadowes of vertues found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his beastly ignorance vertuous simplicite: & the Prince (according to the nature of great persons, in loue with that he had done himselfe) fancied, that his weaknesse with his presence would much be mended. And so like a creature of his owne making, he liked him more and more, and thus hauing first giuen him the office of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this strange determination, he hath in a manner put the life of himselfe and his children into his hands. Which authoritie (like too great a sayle for so small a boate) doth so ouer-sway poore Dametas, that if before he were a good foole in a chamber, he might be allowed it now in a comedie: So as I doubt mee (I feare mee in [deede]) my master will in the end (with his cost) finde, [that] his office is not to make men, but to vse men as men are; no more then a horse will be taught to hunt, or an asse to mannage. But in sooth I am afraid I haue geuen your eares too great a surfette, with the grosse discourses of that heauie peece of flesh. But the zealous grrefe I conceue to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestow more words, then I confesse so base a subiect deserueth.
CHAP. 4.
The 1 cause of Basilius his discourting. 2 Philanax his dis-
swasiue letter. 3 Basilius his priuiledged companie. 4 Foure
causes why old men are discoursers. 5 The state, the skil, and
exercise of the Arcadian shepheards.Thus much now that I haue tolde you, is nothing more then in effect any Arcadian
1 knowes. But what moued him to this strange solitarines hath bin imparted (as I thinke) but to one person liuing. My selfe ca[n] co[n]iecture, & in deed more the coniecture, by this accident that I will tell you: I haue an onely sonne, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing for his owne mariage, which I meane shortly shalbe here celebrated. This sonne of mine (while the Prince kept his court) was of his bed-chamber; now since the breaking vp thereof, returned home, and shewed me (among other things he had gathered) the coppy which he had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a window, presuming no body durst looke in his writings: but my sonne not only tooke a time to read it, but to copie it. In trueth I blamed Clitophon for the curiositie, which made him break his duetie in such a kind, whereby kings secrets are subiect to be reuealed: but since it was done, I was content to take so much profite, as to know it. Now here is the letter, that I euer since for my good liking, haue caried about me: which before I read vnto you, I must tell you from whom it came. It is a noble-man of this countrie, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent in this time of his retiring, and most worthie so to be: for, there liues no man, whose excellent witte more simplie imbraseth integritie, besides his vnfained loue to his master, wherein neuer yet any could make question, sauing, whether he loued Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while most men either seruile-ly yeeld to al appetites, or with an obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect neglect the Princes person. This then being the man, whom of all other (and most worthie) the Prince cheefly loues, it should seeme (for more then the letter I haue not to ghesse by) that the Prince vpon his returne from Delphos, (Philanax then lying sick) had written vnto him his determination, rising (as euidently appeares) vpon some Oracle he had there receaued: whereunto he wrote this answere.
Philanax his letter to Basilius.
MOst redouted & beloued prince, if aswel it had pleased you at your going to Delphos as now, to haue vsed my humble seruice, both I should in better season, and to better purpose haue spoken: and you (if my speech had preuayled) should haue beene at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in quietnes; I would then haue said, that wisdome and vertue be the only destinies appointed to ma[n] to follow, whe[n]ce we ought to seeke al our knowledge, since they be such guydes as cannot faile; which, besides their inward co[m]fort, doo lead so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue; or, if the wickednes of the world should oppresse it, it can neuer be said, the euil hapneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue: I would then haue said, the heauenly powers to be reuerenced, and not seached into; & their mercies rather by prayers to be sought, then their hidden councels by curiositie. These kind of soothsayers (since they haue left vs in our selues sufficient guides) to be nothing but fansie, wherein there must either be vanitie, or infalliblenes, & so, either not to be respected, or not to be preuented. But since it is weaknes too much to remember what should haue been done, and that your commandeme[n]t stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the maner of your determination dooth in no sort better please me, then the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you haue so gouerned this Region, that neither your Subiectes haue wanted iustice in you, nor you obedie[n]ce in them; & your neighbors haue found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better to rest in your friendshippe, then make new triall of your enmitie. If this then haue proceeded out of the good constitution of your state, and out of a wise prouidence, generally to preuent all those things, which might enco[m]ber your happines: why should you now seeke newe courses, since your owne ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very words of the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor influence whatsoeuer, can bring mans witte to a higher point, then wisdome and goodnes? Why should you depriue your selfe of gouernment, for feare of loosing your gouernment? like one that should kill himselfe for feare of death? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accounted of, arme vp your courage the more against it: for who wil stick to him that abandones himselfe? Let your subiectes haue you in their eyes; let them see the benefites of your iustice dayly more and more; and so must they needes rather like of present sureties, then vncertaine changes. Lastly, whether your time call you to liue or die, doo both like a prince. Now for your second resolution; which is, to suffer no worthie prince to be a suiter to either of your daughters, but while you liue to keep the[m] both vnmaried; &, as it were, to kill the ioy of posteritie, which in your time you may enioy: moued perchance by a mis-understoode Oracle: what shall I say, if the affection of a father to his owne children, cannot plead sufficiently against such fancies? once certaine it is, the God, which is the God of nature, doth neuer teach vnnaturalnes: and euen the same minde hold I touching your banishing them from companie, least, I know not what strange loues should follow: Certainly Sir, in my ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodnes, and their education by your fatherly care, hath beene most fit to restraine all euill: geuing their mindes vertuous delights, and not greeuing them, for want of wel-ruled libertie. Now to fall a sodain straightning them, what can it doo but argue suspition, a thing no more vnpleasant, then vnsure, for the preseruing of vertue? Leaue womens minds, the most vntamed that way of any: see whether any cage can pleae a bird? or whether a dogge grow not fiercer with tying? what dooth ielousie, but stirre vp the mind to thinke, what it is from which they are restained? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men vse to hide, for the aptnesse they haue to catch mens fancies: and the thoughtes once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts from accomplishment, then had it been before to haue kept the minde (which being the chife part, by this meanes is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending so pricipall a charge of the Princesse Pamela, (whose minde goes beyond the gouerning of many thousands such) to such a person as Dametas is (besides that the thing in it self is strange) it comes of a very euil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulnes. O no; he cannot be good, that knowes not why he is good, but stands so farre good, as his fortune may keepe him vnassaid: but comming once to that, his rude simplicitie is either easily changed, or easily deceiued: & so growes that to be the last excuse of his fault, which seemed to haue been the first foundation of his faith. Thus farre hath your commaundement and my zeale drawn me; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hilles, or like a poore passenger that may spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, beseeching you againe, to stand wholy vpon your own vertue, as the surest way to maintaine you in that you are; and to auoyd any euill which may be imagined.
By the contents of this letter you may perceiue, that the cause of all, hath beene the vanitie which possesseth many, who (making a perpetuall mansion of this poore baiting place of mans life) are desirous to know the certaintie of things to come; wherein there is nothing so certaine, as our continuall vncertaintie. But what in particular points the oracle was, in faith I know not: nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he himselfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes vs, that Basilius iudgement, corrupted with a Princes fortune, hath rather heard then followed the wise (as I take it) counsell of Philanax. For, hauing lost the sterne of his gouernment, with much amazement to the people, among whom mnay strange bruits are receiued for currant, and with some apparance of daunger in respect of the valiant Amphalus, his nephew, & much enuy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against Philanax, to see Philanax so aduaunced, though (to speake simply) he deserue more the[n] as many of vs as there be in Arcadia: the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as I told you, not sticking plainly to co[n]fesse, that he means not (while he breathes) that his daughters shal haue any husba[n]d, but keep the[m] thus solitary with him: wher he giues no other body leue
3 to visit him at any time, but a certain priest, who being excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as be best likes, he being no les delightful in co[n]uersatio[n], the[n] needfull for deuotio[n], & about twe[n]ty specified shepheards, in who[m] (some foe exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreatio[n].
And now you know as much as my self: wherin if I haue held you ouer long, lay hardly the fault
4 vpon my olde age, which in the very disposition of it is talkatiue: whether it be (said he smiling) that nature loues to exercise that part most, which is least decayed, and that is our tongue: or, that knowldge being the only thing whereof we poore old men can brag, we cannot make it knowen but by vtterance: or, that mankinde by all meanes seeking to eternize himselfe so much the more, as he is neere his end, dooth it not only by the children that come of him, but by speeches and writings recommended to the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I wil say for my selfe, that I haue not laid these matters, either so openly, or largely to any as your selfe: so much (if I much fayle not) doo I see in you, which makes me both loue and trust you. Neuer may he be old, answered Palladius, that dooth not reuerence that age, whose heauines, if it waie downe the frayl and fleshly ballance, it as much lifts vp the noble and spirituall part: and well might you haue alledged another reason, that their wisdome makes them willing to profite others. And that haue I receiued of you, neuer to to be forgotten, but with vngratefulnes. But among many strange conceits you tolde me, which haue shewed effects in your Prince, truly euen the last, that he should conceiue such pleasure in shepheards discourses, would not seeme the least vnto me, sauing that you told me at the first, that this countrie is notable in those wits, and that in deed my selfe hauing beene brought not onely to this place, but to my life, by Strephon and Claius, in their conference found wits as might better become such shepheards as Homer speakes of, that be gouernors of peoples, then such senatours who hold their councell in a shepecoate: for them two (said Kalander) especially Claius, they are beyond the rest by so much, as learning commonlie doth adde to nature: for, hauing neglected their wealth in respect of their knowledge, they haue not so much empayred the meaner, as they bettered the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sporte to heare howe they impute to loue, whiche hath indewed their thoughts (saie they) with suche a strength.
But certainely, all
5 the people of this countrie from high to lowe, is giuen to those sportes of the witte, so as you would wonder to heare how soone euen children will beginne to versifie. Once, ordinary it is among the meanest sorte, to make Songes and Dialogues in meeter, either loue whetting their braine or long peace hauing begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but the clowne Dametas will stumble sometimes vpon some Songs that might become a better brayne: but no sorte of people so excellent in that kinde as the pastors; for their liuing standing but vpon the looking to their beastes, they haue ease, the Nurse of Poetrie. Neither are our shepheards such, as (I heare) they be in other countries; but they are the verie owners of the sheepe, to which eyther themselues looke, or their children giue daylie attendaunce. And then truely, it would delight you vnder some tree, or by some riuers side (when two or three of them meet together) to heare their rurall muse, how pretely it will deliuer out, sometimes ioyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalengings one of the other, sometimes vnder hidden formes vttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then they haue most commonly one, who iudgeth the price to the best doer, of which they are no lesse gladde, then great Princes are of triumphes: and his parte is to sette downe in writing all that is saide, saue that it may be, his pen with more leasure doth polish the rudenesse of an vnthought-on songe. Now the choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnesse of voice, or pleasantnesse of wit, the Prince hath: among whom also there are two or three straungers, whom inwarde melancholies hauing made weery of the worldes eyes haue come to spende their liues among the countrie people of Arcadia; & their conuersation being well approued, the prince vouchsafeth them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great courtesie and liberalitie, animates the Shepheardes the more exquisitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame the Prince for somtimes hearing them; the blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to solitarinesse, then makes them come to companie. Neyther doo I accuse my maister for aduauncing a countriman, as Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthinesse is (as truely it is among diuers of that fellowship) any outward lownesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needes make election of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such, that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the basest bodie could carrie the most base fortune: Which although it might bee aunswered for the Prince, that it is rather a trust hee hath in his simple plainnesse, then any great aduauncement, beyng but chiefe heardman: yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond all abuauncement. But I am euer too long vppon him, when he crosseth the waie of my speache, and by the shaddowe of yonder Tower, I see it is a fitter time, with our supper to pay the duties we owe to our stomacks, the[n] to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I might haue learned of Homer (whome euen now you mentioned) who neuer entertayned eyther guestes or hostes with long speaches, till the mouth of hunger be throughly stopped. So withall he rose, leading Palladius through the gardeine againe to the parler, where they vsed to suppe; Palladius assuring him, that he had alreadie bene more fed to his liking, then hee could bee by the skilfullest trencher-men of Media.
CHAP. 5.
The 1 sorow of Kalander for his sonne Clitophon. The
2 storie of Argalus and Parthenia, their 3 perfections,
their 4 loue, their 5 troubles, her 6 impoysoning, 7 his
rare constancie, 8 her straunge refusall, 9 their patholo-
gies, her 10 flight, his 11 reuenge on his riuall the mis-
chiefe-worker Demagoras, then Captaine of the re-
bell Helots, who 12 take him, and 13 Clitophon that
sought to helpe him: but 14 both are kept aliue by their
new captaine.Bvt beeing come to the supping place, one of Kalanders seruaunts rounded
1 in his eare; at which (his colour chaungyng) hee retired him selfe into his chamber; commaunding his men diligentlie to waite and attend vpon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some neccesarie busines he had presentlie to dispatch. Which they accordinglie did, for some fewe dayes forcing the[m]selues to let no change appeare: but though they framed their countenaunces neuer so cunningly, Palladius perceaued there was some il-pleasing accident fallen out. Whereupon, being againe set alone at supper, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him the matter of his suddaine alteration: who after some trifling excuses, in the ende confessed vnto him, that his maister had receiued newes, that his sonne before the daie of his neere marriage, chaunst to be at a battaile, which was to be fought betweene the Gentlemenne of Lacedæmon and the Helots: who winning the victorie, hee was there made prisoner, going to deliuer a friend of his taken prysoner by the Helots; that the poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life: but that the hate those paysaunts conceued agaynst all Gentlemen was suche, that euerie houre hee was to looke for nothing, but some cruell death: which hether-vnto had onely beene delayed by the Captaines vehement dealing for him, who seemed to haue a hart of more manlie pittie then the rest. Which losse had stricken the old Gentleman with such sorrowe, as if aboundance of teares did not seeme sufficiently to witnesse it, he was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hayre, and cursing his old age, that he had not made his graue to stoppe his eares from such aduertisements: but that his faithfull seruaunts had written in his name to all his friends, followers, and tenants (Philanax the gouernour refusing to deale in it, as a priuate cause, but yet giuing leaue to seeke their best redresse, so as they wronged not the state of Lacedæmon) of whom there were now gathered vpon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spende their liues by any way, to redeeme or reuenge Clitophon. Now sir (said he) this is my maisters nature, though his grief be such, as to liue is a griefe vnto him, & that euen his reason is darkened with sorrow; yet the lawes of hospitality ( long and holily obserued by him) giue still such a sway to his proceeding, that he will no waie suffer the straunger lodged vnder his roofe, to receyue (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especially you, toward whom I know not whether his loue, or admiration bee greater. But Palladius could scarce heare out his tale with patience: so was his hart torne in peeces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalanders noble behauiour, kindnesse for his respect to him-warde, and desire to finde some remedie, besides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus, whom he iudged to suffer eyther a like or a worse fortune: therefore rising from the boorde, he desired the steward to tell him particularly the ground, and euent of this accident, because by knowledge of many circumstaunces, there might perhaps some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie in this sorte condiscended.
My Lord (said he) when our good king Basilius, with better successe then expectation, tooke
2 to wife (euen in his more then decaying yeares) the faire yong princes Gynecia, there came with her a young Lord, cousin german to her selfe, named Argalus, led hether, partly with the loue & honour of his noble kinswoma[n], partly with the humour of youth, which euer thinkes that good, whose goodnes he sees not: & in this court he receiued so good encrease of knowledge, that after some yeares spent, he so manifested a most vertuous mind in all his actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was
3 transported vnto them, being a Gentleman in deede most rarely accomplished, excellentlie learned, but without all vayne glory: friendly, without factiousnes: valiaunt, so as for my part I thinke the earth hath no man that hath done more heroicall actes then hee; how soeuer now of late the fame flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our noble prince Amphialus: who in deede, in our partes is onely accounted likely to match him: but I say for my part, I thinke no man for valour of minde, and habilitie of bodie to bee preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant as he neuer durst doo any bodie iniurie: in behauiour some will say euer sadde, surely sober, and somewhat giuen to musing, but neuer vncourteous; his worde euer ledde by his thought, and followed by his deede; rather liberall then magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had euer good choise of the receiuer: in summe (for I perceiue I shall easily take a great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this countrie loue so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can finde a spot in, if the ouer-vehement constancie of yet spotles affection, may not in harde wrested constructions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that worke in him, which had made bothe him, and it selfe in him, ouer all this country famous. My maisters sonne Clitophon (whose losse giues the cause to this discourse, and yet giues me cause to beginne with Argalus, since his losse proceedes from Argalus) beyng a young Gentleman, as of great birth (being our kings sisters sonne) so truely of good nature, and one that can see good and loue it, haunted more the companie of this worthie Argalus, then of any other: so as if there were not a friendship (which is so rare, as it is to bee doubted whether it bee a thing in deede, or but a worde) at least there was such a liking and friendlines, as hath brought foorth the effectes which you shall heare. About two yeares since, it so fell out, that hee brought him to a great Ladies house, sister to my maister, who had with her, her onely daughter, the faire Parthenia; faire in deede (fame I thinke it selfe daring not to call any fayrer, if it be not Helena queene of Corinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairenesse much the fayrer, was, that it was but a faire emassadour of a most faire minde, full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to iudge it selfe, then to showe it selfe: her speach being as rare as pretious; her silence without sullennesse, her modestie without affectation; her shamefastnes without ignorance: in somme, one, that to praise well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to be excellent; for so she is.
4
5
I thinke you thinke, that these perfections meeting, could not choose but find one another, and delight in that they found; for likenes of manners is likely in reason to drawe liking with affection: mens actions doo not alwaies crosse with reason: to be short, it did so in deed. They loued, although for a while the fire thereof (hopes winges being cut of) were blowen by the bellowes of dispaire, vpon this occasion.
There had beene a good while before, and so continued, a suter to this same lady, a great noble ma[n], though of Laconia, yet neere neighbour to Parthenias mother, named Demagoras: A man mightie in riches & power, and proude thereof, stubbornly stout, louing no bodie but him selfe, and for his owne delights sake Parthenia; and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so guilded ouer all his other imperfections, that the olde Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her brothers miinde) had giuen her consent; and vsing a mothers authorie vpon her faire daughter, had made her yeelded thereunto, not because shee liked her choise, but because her obedient minde had not yet taken vpon it to make choyse; and the daie of their assurance drew neere, when my young Lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchance principallie to see so rare a sight, as Parthenia by all well iudging eyes was iudged.
But though fewe dayes were before the time of assurance appointed, yet loue that sawe hee had a great iourney to make in shorte time, hasted so him selfe, that before her worde could tie her to Demagoras, her harte hath vowed her to Argalus, with so gratefull a receipte in mutuall affection, that if shee desired aboue all thinges to haue Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, louing and lothing, and out of passion began to take the authoritie of iudgement; in so much, that when the time came that Demagoras (full of proude ioy) thought to receaue the gifte of her selfe, shee with woordes of resolute refusall (though with teares shewing she was sorie she must refuse) assured her mother, she would first be bedded in her graue, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no more straunge, then vnpleasant to the mother: who beyng determinately (least I shoulde say of a great Lady, willfully) bent to marrie her to Demagoras, tryed all wayes which a wittie and hard-harted mother could vse, vpon so humble a daughter in whome the onely resisting power was loue. But the more shee assaulted, the more shee taught Parthenia to defende: and the more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at length finding, that Argalus standing betweene them, was it that most eclipsed her affection from shining vpon Demagoras, she sought all meanes how to remoue him, so much the more, as he manifested himselfe an vnremoueable suiter to her daughter: first, by imploying him in as many da[n]gerous enterprises, as euer the euill stepmother Iuno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his vertue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to ouerthrow him, did set him vp vpon the height of honor; inough to haue moued her harte, especially to a man euery way so worthy as Argalus: but she strugling against all reason, because she would haue her will, and shew her authoritie in matching her with Demagoras, the more vertuous Argalus was, the more she hated him: thinking her selfe conquered in his co[n]quests, and therefore still imploying him in more and more dangerous attempts: meane while, she vsed all extremities possible vpon her faire daughter, to make her geue ouer her selfe to her direction. But it was hard to iudge, whether he in doing, or she in suffering, shewed greater constancie of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occsions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, the[n] her vnchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would haue made away Argalus: but hee with prouidence & courage so past ouer all, that the mother tooke such a stitefull grief at it, that her hart brake withall, and she died.
6 But then, Demagoras assuring himselfe, that now Parthenia was her owne, she would neuer be his, and receiuing as much by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne hapines, then enuying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, euen ready to enioy the perfection of his desires; strengthening his conceite with all the mischieuous counsels which disdayned loue, and enuious pride could geue vnto him; the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his countrie, to fetch some of his principall frendes to honour the mariage, which Parthenia had most ioyfully consented vnto,) the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speake with her, with vnmercifull force, (her weake armes in vaine resisting) rubd all ouer her face a most horrible poyson: the effect whereof was such, that neuer leaper lookt more vgly the[n] she did: which done, hauing his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her serua[n]ts, as redy to reuenge as they could be, in such an vnexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fact beinig come to my L. Kalander, he made such meanes, both by our kings intercessionm & his own, that by the king, & senat of Lacedæmo[n], Demagoras was vpon paine of death, banished the countrie: who hating the punishment, where he should haue hated the fault, ioynde himselfe, with al the powers he could make, vnto the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to haue a man of such authority among the[m]) made him their general: & vnder him haue committed diuers the most outragious villanies, that a base multitude (full of desperate reuenge) can imagine.
7 But within a while after this pitifull fact committed vpon Parthenia, Argalus returned (poore gentleman) hauing her faire image in his heart, and already promising his eies the vttermost of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him) were the first messengers to themselues of their owne misfortune. I meane not to moue passions with telling you the griefe of both, when he knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first knowlsdge could possibly haue Vertues aide so ready, as not euen weakly to lament the losse of such a iewell, so much the more, as that skilful men in that arte assured it was vnrecouerable: but within a while, trueth of loue (which still held the first face in his memorie) a vertuous constancie, and euen a delight to be constant, faith geuen, and inward worthines shining through the foulest mistes, tooke so full holde of the noble Argalus, that not onely in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow vpon aduersitie, but euen with the most aboundant kindnesse that an eye-rauished louer can expresse, he laboured both to driue the extremity of sorow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their mariage: whereunto he vnfainedly shewed himself no lesse cherefully earnest, then if she had neuer been disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally bequeathed vnto her: and for that cause deferred his inte[n]ded reuenge vpon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her presence; shewing more hu[m]ble seruiceablenes, and ioy to content her, then euer before.
8 But as he gaue the rare ensa[m]ple, not to be hoped for of any other, but of another Argalus: so of the other side, she tooke as strange a course in affection: for, where she desired to enioy him, more then to liue; yet did she ouerthrow both her owne desire, and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him; with a strange encounter of loues affects, and effects: that he by an affection sprong from excessiue beautie, should delight in horrible foulnesse, and she, of a vehement desire to haue him, should kindly build a resolution neuer to haue him: for trueth is, that so in heart she loued him, as she could not finde in her heart he should be tied to what was vnworthy of his presence.
9 Truely Sir, a very good Orator might haue a fayrefield to vse eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, and truely affectionated speeches, while he coniured her by remembrance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne affection, not to make him so vnhappy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her hart; that her face, when it was fayrest, had been but as a marshall, to lodge the loue of her in his minde; which now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any outward harbinger: beseeching her, euen with teares, to know, that his loue was not so superficial, as to go no further then the skin; which yet now to him was most faire, since it was hers: how could hee be so vngratefull, as to loue her the lesse for that, which she had onely receiued for his sake? that he neuer beheld it, but therein he saw the louelines of of her loue towarde him: protesting vnto her, that he would neuer take ioy of his life, if he might not enioy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that ouerheard them) she (wringing him by the hand) made no other answere but this: my Lord (said she) God knowes I loue you: if I were Princesse of the whole world, and had, withal, al the blessings that euer the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my selfe, & them, vnder your feete: or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must co[n]fesse) far vnworthy of you, yet would I, (with too great a ioy for my hart to think of) haue accepted your vouchsafing me to be yours, & with faith and obediance would haue supplied all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable then I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia: liue happy, deare Argalus, I geue you full libetie, and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall reioyce (whatsoeuer become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be fitte, both for your honor, and satisfaction. With that she burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to conteine her selfe from blaming her fortune, and wishing her owne death.
10
11
12
But Argalus with a most heauie heart still pursuing his desire, she fixt of mind to auoid further intreatie, & to flie all companie; which (euen of him) grew vnpleasant vnto her; one night she stole away: but whether, as yet is vnknowen, or in deede what is become of her.
Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at length (despairing to finde her, and the more he despaired, the more enraged) weerie of his life, but first determining to be reuenged of Demagoras, hee went alone disguyused into the chiefe towne held by the Helots: where comminig into his presence, garded about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no lo[n]ger for a fitter time, but setting vpon him, in despight of a great many that helped him, gaue him diuers mortall wounds,
and himself (no question) had been there presently murthered, but that Demagoras himselfe desired he might be kept aliue; perchaunce with intention to feed his owne eyes with some cruell execution to bee layd vpon him, but death came soner then he lookt for; yet hauing had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not long before deliuered out of the prison of the King of Lacedæmon, where hee should haue suffered death for hauing slaine the kings Nephew: but him he named, who at that time was absent, making roades vpon the Lacedæmonians, but being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceiued of that yong man, (especially because they had none among themselues to whom the others would yeeld) were co[n]tent to follow Demagoras appointment. And well hath it succeeded with them, he hauing sinice done things beyond the hope of the youngest heads; of whom I speak the rather, because he hath hetherto preserued Argalus aliue, vnder pretence to haue him publiquely, and with exquisite tormentes executed, after the ende of these warres, of which they hope for a soone and prosperous issue.
13 14
And he hath likewise hetherto kept my young Lord Clitophon aliue, who (to redeme his friend) went with certaine other noble-men of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but he issueing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noble-men, & tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a doo he keepeth aliue: the Helots being villanously cruell; but he tempereth the[m] so, sometimes by folowing their humor, sometimes by striuing with it, that hetherto hee hath saued both their liues, but in different estates; Argalus being kept in a close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertie. And now Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise our selues of their safeties, while they are in the Helots hands, I haue deliuered all I vnderstande touching the losse of my Lords sonne, & the cause therof: which, though it was not necessarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the stra[n]genes of it, made me think it would not be vnplesant vnto you.
CHAP. 6.
1 Kalanders expedition against the Helots. 2 Their estate.
3 Palladius his stratageme against them: 4 which pre-
uayleth. 5 The Helots resisitance, discomfiture, and re
-enforce by the returne of thei new captaine 7 The com-
bat and 8 enterknowledge of Daiphantus & Palladius,
and by their 9 meanes a peace, with the release of Ka-
lander and Clitophon.Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being euen passionately delighted with hearing so strange an accide[n]t of a knight so famous ouer the world, as Argalus, with whome he had himselfe a long desire to meet: so had famed poured as noble emulation in him, towards him.
But the[n] (wel bethinking himselfe) he called for armour, desiring them to prouide him of horse & guide, and armed al
1 sauing the head, he we[n]t vp to Kala[n]der, whom he found lying vpo[n] the grou[n]d, hauing euer since banished both sleepe and foode, as enemies to the mourning which passion perswaded him was reasonable. But Palladius raysed him vp, saying vnto him[:] No more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander; let vs labour to finde, before wee lament the losse: you know my selfe misse one, though he be not my sonne, I would disdayn the fauour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weaknes of sorow, make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good successe will folow. And with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted victorie. Once, Kalanders spirits were so reuiued withal, that (receiuing some sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himselfe, and those few of his seruants he had left vnsent, and so himself guyded Palladius to the place vpon the frontiers: where already there were assembled betweene three and four thousand men, all well disposed (for Kalanders sake) to abide any perill: but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to doo, then skilfull how to doo: lusty bodies, and braue armours: with such courage, as rather grew of despising their enimies, whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing, which in them selues they knew not; but neither cunning vse of their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or incamping. Which Palladius soone perceiuing, he desired to vnderstand (as much as could be deliuered vnto him) the estate of the Helots.
2 And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affaires of Laconia, that they were a kinde of people, who hauing been of old, freemen and possessioners, the Lacedemonians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute, but bondage vpon them: which they had long borne, till of late the Lacedemonians through greedinesse growing more heauie then they could beare, anf through contempt lesse carefull how to make them beare, they had with a generall consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then of any artificiall practise) set themselues in armes, and whetting their courage with reuenge, and grounding their resolutio[n] vpon despaire, they had proceeded with vnloked-for succes: hauing already take[n] diuers Towns and Castels, with the slaughter of many of the gentrie; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for and excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly furie, then any soldierly discipline, practise had now made [them] comparable to the best of the Lacedemonians; & more of late then euer, by reason, first of Demagoras a great Lord, who had made him self of their partie, and since his death, of an other Captaine they had gotten, who had brought vp their ignorance, and brought downe their furie, to such a meane of good gouernment, and withall led them so valourouslie, that (besides the time whwerein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great co[n]flicts: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedæmon had sent vnto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honorable conditions. Palladius hauing gotten this generall knowledge of the partie against whom, as hee had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainlie, that by playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon: but some deuice was to be taken in hand, wherein bo lesse discretion then valour was to vsed.
3 Whereupon, the councel of the chiefe men was called, and at last, this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especiallie by reading Histories, was acquainted with stratagemes) inuented, and was by all the rest approoued: that all the men there shoulde dresse themselues like the poorest sorte of the people in Arcadia; hauing no banners, but bloudie shirtes hanged vpon long staues, with some bad bagge pipes in stead of drumme and fife, their armour they should aswell as might be, couer, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-fauouredly as might well become such wearers; and this the whole number should doo, sauing two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen, for courage and strength, whereof Palladius him selfe would be one, who should haue their armes chayned, and be put in cartes like prisoners. This being performed according to the agreement, they marched on towards the towne of Cardamila where Clitophon was captiue; and being come two houres before Sunne set within vewe of the walles, the Helots alreadie descrying their number, and beginning to sound the Allarum, they sent a cunning fellow, (so much the cunninger as that he could maske it vnder rudenes) who with such a kind of Rhetorike, as weeded out all flowers of Rhetorike, deliuered vnto the Helots assembled together, that they were countrie people of Arcadia, no lesse oppressed by their Lords, & no lesse desirous of liberty then they, & therefore had put themselues in the field, & had alreadie (besides a great number slaine) taken nine or ten score Gentlemen prisoners, who they had there well & fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, & were not yet of number enough to keepe the fielde against their Princes forces, they were come to them for succor; knowing, that daily more & more of their qualities would flock vnto the[m], but that in the mean time, lest their Prince should pursue the[m], or the Lacedæmonian King & Nobilitie (for the likenes of the cause) fall vpon them, they desired that if there were not roome enough for them in the towne, that yet they might encampe vnder the walles, and for surety haue their prisoners ( who were such me[n] as were euer able to make their peace) kept within the towne.
4 The Helots made but a short consultatio[n], being glad that their contagion had spread it selfe into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out betweene them and their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts of Greece; besides their greedinessee to haue so many Gentlemen in their handes, in whose taunsoms they meant to haue a share; to which hast of concluding, two thinges wel helped; the one, that their Captaine with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with the state of Lacedæmon: the second, that ouer-many good fortunes began to breed a proude recklesnesse in them: therefore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their speach they were Arcadians, with whom they had no warre, neuer suspecting a priuate mans credite could haue gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chaines vpon the Gentlemen) they graunted not onely leaue for the prisoners, but for some others of the companie, and to all, that they might harbour vnder the walles. So opened they the gates, and receiued in the carts; which being done, and Palladius seing fit time, he gaue the signe, and shaking of their chaynes; (which were made with such arte, that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that ware them might easily loose them) drew their swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting vpon the ward, made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies, and so giue entrie to all the force of the Arcadians, before the Helots could make any head to resist them.
5 But the Helots being men hardened against daungers, gathered as (well they could) together in the market place, and thence would haue giuen a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slow, hartning the[m] that were forward, but especially with his owne ensample leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots, that at first the great bodie of them beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, euery particular bodie recommended the protection of his life to his feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison, where he thought his sonne was, but Palladius wisht him (first scouring the streates) to house all the Helots, and make themselues maisters of the gates.
6 But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten new hart, and with diuers sortes of shot from corners of streats, and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come vnto them by the returne of their Captain; who though he brought not many with him (hauing disperst most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great nu[m]ber ru[n]ning out of the gate, not yet possessed by the Arcadians, he made them turne face, & with banners displayed, his Trumpets giue the lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which once heard, the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent thetherward, with a new life of resolution: as if their Captaine had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage had sprong. Then began the fight to grow most sharpe, and the encounters of more cruell obstinacie. The Arcadians fighting to keepe that they had wonne, the Helots to recouer what they had lost. The Arcadians, as in an vnknowne place, hauing no succour but in their handes; the Helots, as in their own place, fighting for their liuings, wiues, & children. There was victory & courage against reuenge and despaire: safety of both sides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction.
At length, the left winge of the Arcadians began to loose ground; which Palladius seeing, he streight thrust himselfe with his choise bande against the throng that oppressed the[m], with such an ouerflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the Helots (whose eies soon iudged of that wherwith the[m]selues were gouerned) saw that he alone was worth al the rest of the Arcadians. Which he so wondred at, that it was hard to say, whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings: but determining that vpon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, sought onely to ioine with him: which minde was no lesse in Palladius, hauing easily marked, that he was as the first mouer of al the other handes. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to trie each others fortune: & so drawing themselues to be the vttermost of the one side, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battaile in noise and number, as it was surpassing in brauery of fighting, & (as it were) delightful terriblenes. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardinesse darken their witte, nor their witte coole their hardines: both valiant, as men despising death; both confident, as vnwonted to be ouercome; yet doutefull by their present feeling, and respectfull by what they had already seene. Their feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, & their harts resolute. The partes either not armed, or weakly armed, were well knowen, and according to the knowledge should haue bene sharpely visited, but that the aunswere was as quicke as the obiection. Yet some lighting; the smart bred rage, and the rage bred smarte agaiine: till both sides beginning to waxe faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopeful to liue victorious, the Captaine of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of furie, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of furie, strake Palladius vpon the side of the head, that he reeled stonied: and withall the helmet fell of, he remayning bare headed: but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield him from any harme that might arise of that nakednes.
8 But little needed it, for his chiefe enemie in steed of pursuing that aduauntage, kneeled downe, offering to deliuer the pommell of his sworde, in token of yeelding, with all speaking aloud vnto him, that he thought it more libertie to be his prisoner, then any others generall. Palladius standing vppon him selfe, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captaine) wauering betweene looking for some stratageme, or fearing treason, What, said the captaine, hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?
9 By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely friende Pyrocles, whome he had lost vpon the Sea, and therefore both most full of wonder, so to be mett, if they had not bene fuller of ioye then wonder, caused the retraite to be sounded, Daiphantus by authoritie, and Palladius by persuasion; to which helped well the little aduauntage that was of eyther side: and that of the Helots partie their Captaines behauiour had made as many amazed as sawe or heard of it: and of the Arcadian side the good olde Kalander striuing more than his old age could atchieue, was newly taken prisoner. But in deede, the chiefe parter of the fraye was the night, which with her blacke armes pulled their malicious sightes one from the other. But he that tooke Kalander, meant nothing lesse then to saue him, but onelie so long, as the Captaine might learne the enemies secrets: towardes whom he led the old Gentleman, when he caused the retreit to be sounded: looking for no other deliuerie from that captiuitie, but by the painfull taking away of all paine: when whom should he see next to the Captaine (with good tokens how valiantly he had fought that daie against the Arcadians) but his sonne Clitophon? But nowe the Captaine had caused all the principall Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receiue a message from the Arcadians; Amo[n]g whom Palladius vertue (besides the loue Kalander bare him) hauing gotte[n] principall authoritie, he had persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recouer the Father and the Sonne, then by the sword: since the goodnes of the Captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (wherewith he was of old acquainted[)] made him thinke any other way dangerous. This therfore was donne in orderly manner, giuing them to vnderstand, that as they came but to deliuer Clitophon, so offering to leaue the footing they already had in the towne, to goe away without any further hurte, so as they might haue the father, & the sonne without raunsome deliuered. which conditions beyng heard and conceaued, by the Helots, Daiphantus perswaded them without delay to accept them. For first (sayd he) since the strife is within our owne home, if you loose, you loose all that in this life can bee deare vnto you: if you winne, it will be a blouddy victorie with no profite, but the flattering in our selues that same badde humour of reuenge. Besides, iti s like to stirre Arcadia vppon vs, which nowe, by vsing these persons well, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly, but especially, least the king and nobilitie of Laconia (with whom now we haue made a perfect peace) should hope, by occasion of this quarrell to ioyne the Arcadians with them, & so breake of the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in al deliberations (waying the profite of the good successe with the harme of the euill successe) you shall find this way most safe and honorable.
10 The Helots asmuch moued by his authoritie, as perswaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Whervpon, Palladius tooke order that the Arcadians should presently march out of the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keepe them quiet, and ere day came they might be well on of their way, and so auoid those accidents which in late enemies, a looke, a word, or a particular mans quarrel might enge[n]der. This being on both sides concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now (with infinite ioy did knowe each other) came to kisse the hands and feet of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himselfe) had preserued him from the furious malice of the Helots: & euen that day going to conclude the peace (least in his absence he might receiue some hurt) he had taken him in his companie, and geuen him armour, vpon promise he should take the part of the Helots, which he had in this fight perfourmed, little knowinig it was against his father: but (said Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saued me from many deaths, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with teares of ioy acknowledged (besides his owne deliuerance) onely his benefite. But Daiphantus, who loued doing well for it selfe, and not for thanks, brake of those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) was come into that companie, & what his present estate was: whereof receiuing a brief declaration of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon, that he should not as now come vnto him, because he held himselfe not so sure a master of the Helots minds, that he would aduenture him in their power, who was so well knowen with an vnfriendly acquaintance; but that he desired him to return with Kalander, whether also he within few daies (hauing dispatched himselfe of the Helots) would repaire. Kalander would needes kisse his hande againe for that promise, protesting, he would esteme his house more blessed the[n] a temple of the gods, if it had once receiued him. And then desirinig pardon for Argalus[;] Daiphantus assured them that hee would die, but hee woulde bring him, (though till then kept in close prison, indeed for his safetie, the Helots being so animated against him as els hee could not haue liued) and so taking their leaue of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius and the rest of the Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any sort molest the Helots, they straight way marched out of the towne, carying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were alreadie within the limits of Arcadia.
CHAP. 7[.]
The articles of peace betwene the Lacedæmonians & He-
lots, 2 Daipha[n]tus his departure fro[m] the Helots with
Argalus to Kalanders house. 3 The offer of a
straunge Lady to Argalus, 4 his refusal, and 5 who she
was.The Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gaue them selues to burye their dead, to cure their woundes, and rest their weeried bodies: till (the next day bestowing the chereful vse of the light vpon them) Daiphantus making a generall conuocation spake vnto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thanke the Gods, that (further then wee had either cause to hope; or reason to imagine) haue diliuered vs out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swallowed. For all being lost, (had they had not directed, my return so iust as they did) it had bene too late to recouer that, which being had, we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of the principall men among them, by which meanes the truce beganne betweene vs, you may easily conceiue, what little reason we haue to think, but that either by some supplie out of Arcadia, or from the Nobilitie of this Country (who would haue made fruites of wisdome grow out of this occasion,) wee should haue had our power turned to ruine, our pride to repentance and sorow. but now the storme, as it fell out, so it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly then his age or quarrel deserued, becomes a sharply learned experience, to vse in other times more moderation.
1 Now haue I to deliuer vnto you the conclusion between the Kings with the Nobilitie of Lacedæmon, and you; which is in all points as your selues desired: aswell for that you would haue graunted, as for the assuranceof what is graunted. The Townes and Fortes you presently haue, are still left vnto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so as you alter not the lawes of the Countrie, and pay such dueties as the rest of the Laconians do. Your selues are made by publique decree, free men, and so capable both to giue and receiue voice in election of Magistrates. The distinction of names betweene Helots and Lacedæmonians to bee quite taken away, and all indifferently to enioy both names and priuiledges of Laconians. Your children to be brought vp with theirs in Spartane discipline: and so you (framing your selues to be good members of that estate) to bee hereafter fellowes, and no longer seruaunts. [W]hich conditions youo see, cary in themselues no more contentation then assuraunce. For this is not a peace which is made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of them. Lastly, a forgetfulnes decreed of all what is past, they shewing the[m]selues glad to haue so valiant men as you are, ioyned with them: so that you are to take mindes of peace, since the cause of war is finished; and as you hated them before like oppressours, so now to loue them as brothers; to take care oftheir estate because it is yours, and to labour by vertuous doing, that the posteritie may not repent your ioyning. But now one Article onely they stood vpon, which in the end I with your commissioners haue agreed vnto, that I should no more tarry here, mistaking perchaunce my humor, and thinking me as sedicious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my il hap to kill his nephew Eurileon; but how soeuer it be, I haue condiscended. But so will not wee cryed almost the whole assemblie, cou[n]celling one an other; rather to trye the vttermost euent, then to loose him by who[m] they had beene victorious. But he as well with generall orations, as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them throughly see how necessary it was to preferr[e] such an opportunity before a vaine affection; but yet could not preuaile, til openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lacedæmonians brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine.
2 So then after a few dayes, setling them in perfect order, hee tooke his leaue of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares, & mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and making temples vnto him as to a demi-God: thinking it beyond the degree of humanitie to haue a witt so farre ouergoing his age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beutie. But he for his sake obtayned free pardon for Argalus, whom also (vppon oath neuer to beare armes against the Helots) he deliuered: and taking onely with him certaine principall Iewells of his owne, he would haue parted alone with Argalus, (whose countenaunce well shewed, while Parthenia was lost he counted not himselfe deliuered) but that the whole multitude would needs gard him into Arcadia. Where again leauing the[m] all to lament his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the wel-knowne house of Kalander: There was he receiued with louing ioye of Kalander, with ioyfull loue of Palladius, with humble (though doulful) demeanor of Argalus whom specially both he and Palladius regarded) with gratefull seruisablenes of Clitophon, and honourable admiration of all. For being now well veiwed to haue no haire of his face, to witnes him a man, who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to looke with a certaine almost bashefull kinde of modestie, as if hee feared the eyes of men, who was vnmooued with sight of the most horrible countenaunces of death; and as if nature had mistaken her woorke to haue a Marses heart in a Cupides bodye: All that beheld him (and al that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quicke messengers to their minds, that there they has seene the vttermost that in mankind might be seene. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the aduantage in the moyst and fickle impressioin of eye-sight. But while all men (sauing poore Argalus) made the ioy of their eyes speake for their harts towards Daiphantus: Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket, & ment then to play the good fellow) brought a pleasa[n]t aduenture among the[m].
3 It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble Lady, neere kinswoman to the fair Helen Queene of Corinth; was come thether, and desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthie guests with him, sauing onely Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken vp, that he might goe in his solitarie quest after Parthenia. But when they met this Lady; Kalander streight thought he sawe his neece Parthenia, and was about in such familiar sorte to haue spoken vnto her: But she in graue and honorable manner giuing him to vnderstand that he was mistaken, he halfe ashamed, excused himselfe with the exceeding likenes was betwene them, though indeede it seemed that his Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion; shee said, it might very well be, hauing bene many times taken one for an other. But assoone as she was brought into the house, before she would rest, she desired to speake with Argalus publickly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came in hastely, and as hastelie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine chaunges of ioye into sorrow. But she whe[n] she had stayd their thoughts with telling them her name, and qualitie in this sort spake vnto him. My Lord Argalus, sayd she, being of late left in the court of Queene Helen of Corinth, as chiefe in her absence (she being vpo[n] some occasion gone the[n]ce) there came vnto me the Lady Parthenia, so disguysed, as I thinke Greece hath nothing so oughly to behold. For my part, it was many dayes, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes, she could make me thinke that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certenly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had euer told me, (as now you doo) of the great likenes betweene vs, I tooke the best care I could of her and of her vnderstood the whole tragicall historie of her vndeserued aduenture: and therewithall, of that most noble constancie in you my Lord Argalus: which whosoeuer loues not, shewes himselfe to be a hater of vertue, and vnworthie to liue in the societie of mankind. But no outward cherishing could salue the inward sore of her minde, but a fewe dayes since shee died: before her death earnestly disiring, and perswading me, to thinke of no husbande but of you; as of the onely man in the world worthie to be loued; with-all, she gaue me this Ring to deliuer you; desiring you, & by the authoritie of loue co[m]maunding you, that the affection you bare her you should turne to me: assuring you, that nothing can please her soule more, then to see you and me matched together. Now my L. though this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who shuld rather looke to be desired; yet, an extraordinarie desert requires an extraordinarie proceeding: and therfore I am come (with faithfull loue built vpo[n] your worthines) to offer my self, & to beseech you to accept the offer: & if these noble ge[n]tleme[n] prese[n]t will say it is great folly, let the[m] withal, say it is great loue. And then she staid, earnestly attending Argalus his answere, who (first making most hartie sighes do such obsequies as he could, to Parthenia) thus answered her.
4 Madame (said he) infinitely bound am I vnto you, for this, no more rare, then noble courtesie; but most bound for the goodnes I perceiue you shewed to the lady Parthenia, (with that the teares ranne downe his eyes; but he followed on) and as much as so vnfortunat a man, fitte to be the spectacle of miserie, can doo you seruice; determine you haue made a purchase of a slaue (while I liue) neuer to fayle you. But this great matter you propose vnto me, wherein I am not so blind, as not to see what happines it should be vnto mee; Excellent Ladie, know, that if my hart were mine to giue, you before al other, should haue it; but Parthenias it is, though dead: there I began, there I end all matter of affection: I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose beautie if I had onely been in loue, I should be so with you,who haue the same beautie: but it was Parthenias selfe I loued, and loue; which no likenes can make one, no co[m]maundement dissolue, no foulnes defile, nor no death finish. And shall I receiue (said she) such disgrace, as to be refused? Noble Ladie (said he) let not that harde word be vsed; who know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert: but it is onely happinesse I refuse, since of the onely happines I could and can desire, I am refused.
5 He had scarce spoken those words, when she ranne to him, and imbrasing him, Why then Argalus (saide she) take thy Parthenia; and Parthenia it was indeede. But because sorow forbad him too soon to beleeue, she told him the trueth, with all circumstances; how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitarie place, as she hapned to make her complaint, the Queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking alone in that lo[n]ely place, heard her, and neuer left, till she had knowen the whole discourse. Which the noble Queene greatly pittying, she sent her to a Physition of hers, the most excellent man in the worlde, in hope he could helpe her: which in such sorte as they saw perfourmed, and she taking with her of the Queenes seruaunts, thought yet to make this triall, whether he would quickly forget his true Parthenia, or no. Her speach was confirmed by the Corinthian Gentlemen, who before had kept her counsell, and Argalus easily perswaded to what more then ten thousand yeares of life he desired: and Kalander would needes haue the mariage celebrated in his house, principallie the longer to hold his deare guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of hospitalitie) carried with loue and dutie: & therfore omitted no seruice that his wit could inuent, and his power minister.
CHAP. 8.
The aduentures 1 first of Musidorus, 2 then of Pyrocles since
their shipwracke, to their meeting. 3 The mariage of Ar-
galus and Parthenia.Bvt no waie he sawe he could so much pleasure them, as by leauing the two friends alone, who being
1 shruncke aside to the banqueting house where the pictures were; there Palladius recounted vnto him, that after they had both aba[n]doned the burning ship (& either of them taken some thing vnder him the better to supporte him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with ouer-labouring in the fight and sodaine colde, or the too much receauing of salt water, he was past himselfe: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to doo) the chest that was vnder him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was taken vp by a couple of Shepherds, and by them brought to life againe, and kept from drowning him selfe, when he despaired of his safetie. How after hauing failed to take him into the fisher boate, he had by the Shepheards persuasion come to this Gentlemans house; where being daungerouslie sicke, he had yeelded to seeke the recouery of health, onely for that he might the sooner go seeke the deliuerie of Pyrocles: to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia, had alreadie set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. The[n] did he set foorth vnto him the noble entertainement and careful cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so vpon occasio[n] of the pictures present deliuered with the franknesse of a friends tongue, as neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange storie (with al the particularities belonging) of Arcadia, which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to heare; that he would needs haue much of it againe repeated, and was not contented till Kalander him selfe had answered him diuers questions.
2 But first at Musidorus request, though in brief man[n]er, his mind much running vpo[n] the strange storie of Arcadia, he did declare by what course of adue[n]tures he was come to make vp their mutuall happinesse in meeting. When (cosin, said he) we had stript our selues, and were both leapt into the Sea, and swom a little toward the shoare, I found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the lande, and therefore turned backe againe to the mast of the shippe, where you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came aliue to the shore, you would seeke me; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perishe as to liue, so that place as good to perish in as an other. There I found my sworde among some of the shrowds, wishing (I must confesse) if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withall wauing it about my head, that saylers by it might haue the better glimpse of me. There you missing me, I was taken vp by Pyrates, who putting me vnder boorde prisoner, presentlie sett vppon another shippe, and mainteining a long fight, in the ende, put them all to the sworde. Amongst whom I might heare them greatlie prayse one younge man, who fought most valiantlie, whom (as loue is carefull, and misfortune subiect to doubtfulnes) I thought certainely to be you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe you, in trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which perchance made me more hardie then otherwise I would haue bene. Triall whereof came within two dayes after: for the Kinges of Lacedæmon hauing sett out some Galleys, vnder the charge of one of their Nephews to skowre the Sea of the Pyrates, they met with vs, where our Captaine wanting men, was driuen to arme some of his prisoners, with promise of libertie for well fighting: among whom I was one, and being boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to kil Eurileon the Kings nephew: but in the end they preuailed, & we were all take prisoners: I not caring much what became of me (onely keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you know is betweene vs,) but beyng laid in the iayle of Tenaria, with speciall hate to me for the death of Eurileon, the popular sort of that towne conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates; where entring and killing all of the gentle and riche faction, for honestie sake brake open all prisons, and so deliuered me; and I mooued with gratefulnesse, and encouraged with carelesnesse of life, so behaued my selfe in some conflictes they had in fewe dayes, that they barbarouslie thinking vnsensible wonders of mee, and withall so much they better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of Lacedæmon, (their chiefe Captayne beyng slaine as you knowe by the noble Argalus, who helped thereunto by his perswasion) hauing borne a great affection vnto me, and to auoyde the daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who should haue the place, and all so affected, as rather to haue a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God wotte little prowde of that dignitie,) restoring vnto mee such thinges of mine as being taken first by the pyrates, and then by the Lacedæmonians, they had gotten in the sacke of the towne. Now being in it, so good was my successe with manie victories, that I made a peace for them to their owne liking, the verie daie that you deliuered Clitophon, whom I with much adoo had preserued. And in my peace the King Amiclas of Lacedæmon would needes haue mee bannished,and depriued of the dignitie whereunto I was exalted : which (and you may see howe much you are bounde to mee) for your sake I was content to suffer, a newe hope rising in mee, that you were not dead: and so meaning to trauaile ouer the worlde to seeke you; and now here (my deere Musidorus) you haue mee. And with that (embracing and kissinge each other) they called Kalander, of whom Daiphantus desired to heare the full storie, which before hee had recounted to Palladius, and to see the letter of Philanax, which hee read and well marked.
3 But within some daies after, the marriage betweene Argalus and the faire Parthenia beyng to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladius selling some of their iewels, furnished themselues of very faire apparell, meaning to doo honour to their louing hoste; who as much for their sakes, as for the marriage, set foorth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine deckinges so much beautifie, nor all the daintie deuises so much delight, as the fairenesse of Parthenia, the pearle of all the maydes of Mantiniæa: who as shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes themselues seemed a temple, wherein loue and beautie were married: her lippes, although they were kepte close with modest silence, yet with a pretie kinde of naturall swelling, they seemed to inuite the guestes that lookt on them; her cheekes blushing, and withal when shee was spoken vnto, a little smilyng, were like roses, when their leaues are with a little breath stirred : her hayre being layed at the full length downe her backe, bare shewe as if the voward fayled, yet that would conquere. Daiphantus marking her, O Iupiter (said he speaking to Palladius) how happens it, that Beautie is onely confined to Arcadia? But Palladius not greatly attending his speach, some daies were continued in the solemnising the marriage, with al conceipts that might deliuer delight to mens fancies.
CHAP. 9.
[1] Pyrocles his inclination to loue. 2 His, and Musidorus
disputation thereabouts 3 broken of by Kalander.Bvt such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if cheerefulnesse had bene tediousnesse, and good
1 entertainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would euer get him selfe alone, though almost when he was in companie he was alone, so little attention he gaue to any that spake vnto him: euen the colour and figure of his face began to receaue some alteration; which he shewed little to heede: but euerie morning earlie going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without a co[m]forter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true loue made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke; & therfore being now grow[n]e weary of his abode in Arcadia, hauing informed himselfe fully of the strength & riches of the cou[n]try, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes: and, seing the courte could not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certaine sheapheardish people, he greatly desired a speedy returne to his own countrie, after the many mazes of fortune he had troden. But perceauing this great alteration in his friend, he thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten his returne; whereto he founde him but smally enclined: whereupon one day taking him alone with certaine graces and countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say vnto him.
[ ]A mind wel trayned and long exercised in vertue (my sweete and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it
2 once vndertakes, but vpon well grounded & well wayed causes. For being witnes to it selfe of his owne inward good, it findes nothing without it of so high a price, for which it should be altered. Euen the very countenaunce and behauiour of such a man doth shew forth Images of the same constancy, by maintaining a right harmonic betwixt it and the inward good, in yeelding it selfe sutable to the vertuous resolution of the minde. This speech I direct to you (noble friend Pyrocles) the excellencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo not sufficiently know, hauing scene such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakenes, and not your vnworthines. But as in deede I know it, and knowing it, most dearely loue both it, and him that hath it; so must I needs saye, that since our late comming into this country, I haue marked in you, I will not say an alteratio[n], but a relenting truely, & a slacking of the maine career, you had so notably begon, & almost performed; and that in such sorte, as I cannot finde sufficient reason in my great loue toward you how to allow it; for (to leaue of other secreter arguments which my acquaintaunce with you makes me easily finde) this in effect to any manne may be manyfest, that whereas you were wont in all places you came, to giue your selfe vehemently to the knowledge of those thinges which might better your minde; to seeke the familiaritye of excellent men in learning and souldiery : and lastly, to put all these thinges in praftise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie enterprises, as occasion fell for them; you now leaue all these things vndone: you let your minde fal a sleepe: beside your countenaunce troubled (which surely comes not of vertue; for vertue like the cleare heauen, is without cloudes) and lastly you subiect your selfe to solitarines, the slye enimie, that doth most separate a man from well doing. Pyrocles minde was all this while so fixed vpon another deuotion, that he no more attentiuely marked his friends discourse, then the childe that hath leaue to playe, markes the last part of his lesson; or the diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attend the vnskilful words of a passinger: yet the very sound having imprinted the general point of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike of so deerely an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to bring him to a gentler consideration of him, with a shamefast looke (witnessing he rather could not helpe, then did not know his fault) answered him to this purpose. Excellent Musidorus, in the praise you gaue me in the beginning of your spech, I easily acknowledge the force of your good will vnto mee, for neither coulde you haue thought so well of me, if extremitie of loue had not made your iudgement partiall, nor you could haue loued me so intierlie, if you had not beene apt to make so great (though vndeserued) iudgements of me; and euen so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I haue euer through weaknes been subiect, yet you by the daily me[n]ding of your mind haue of late bin able to looke into them, which before you could not discerne; so that the chaunge you speake of, falles not out by my impairing, but by your betring. And yet vnder the leaue of your better iudgement, I must needes say thus much, my deere cosin, that I find not my selfe wholye to be condemned, because I do not with continuall vehemecy folow those knowledges, which you call the bettering of my minde; for both the minde it selfe must (like other thinges) sometimes be vnbent, or else it will be either weakned, or broken: And these knowledges, as they are of good vse, so are they not all the minde may stretch it selfe vnto: who knowes whether I feede not my minde with higher thoughts? Trulie as I know not all the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these knowledges: but the workings of the minde I finde much more infinite, then can be led vnto by the eye, or imagined by any, that distract their thoughts without themselues. And in such contemplation, or as I thinke more excellent, I enioye my solitarines; and my solitarines perchaunce is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles we see fly alone; and they are but sheepe, which alwaies heard together; co[n]demne not therefore my minde somtime to enioy it selfe; nor blame not the taking of such times as serue most fitte for it. And alas, deere Musidorus, if I be sadde, who knowes better then you the iust causes I haue of sadnes? And here Pyrocles sodainly stopped, like a man vnsatisfied in himselfe, though his witte might wel haue serued to haue satisfied another. And so looking with a countenaunce, as though he desired he should know his minde without hearing him speake, and yet desirous to speake, to breath out some part of his inward euill, sending againe new blood to his face, he continued his speach in this manner. And Lord (dere cosin, said he) doth not the pleasauntnes of this place carry in it selfe sufficient reward for any time lost in it? Do you not see how all things conspire together to make this cou[n]try a heauenly dwelling? Do you not see the grasse how in colour they excell the Emeralds, euerie one striuing to passe his fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equal height? And see you not the rest of these beautifull flowers, each of which would require a mans wit to know, and his life to expresse? Do not these stately trees seeme to maintaine their florishing olde age with the onely happines of their seat, being clothed with a continuall spring, because no beautie here should euer fade? Doth not the aire breath health, which the Birds (delightfull both to eare and eye) do dayly solemnize with the sweet co[n]sent of their voyces? Is not euery eccho therof a perfect Musicke? and these fresh and delightful brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth to leaue the company of so many things vnited in perfection? and with how sweete a murmure they lament their forced departure? Certainelie, certainely, cosin, it must needes be that some Goddesse enhabiteth this Region, who is the soule of this soile: for neither is any, lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to be shrined in such a heap of pleasures: nor any lesse the a Goddesse, could haue made it so perfect a plotte of the celestiall dwellings. And so ended with a deep sigh, rufully casting his eye vpon Musidorus, as more desirous of pittie the[n] pleading. But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed vpon Pyrocles countenance; and with no lesse louing attention marked how his words proceeded from him: but in both these he perceiued such strange diuersities, that they rather increased new doubts, then gaue him ground to settle any iudgement: for, besides his eyes sometimes euen great with teares, the oft cha[n]ging of his colour, with a kind of shaking vnstayednes ouer all his body, he might see in his countenace some great determinatio[n] mixed with feare; and might perceiue in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested; his words interrupted continually with sighes (which serued as a burthen to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his wo[n]ted phrase) not knit together to one consta[n]t end, but rather dissolued in it selfe, as the vehemencie of the inwarde passion preuayled: which made Musidorus frame his aunswere neerest to that humor, which should soonest put out the secret. For, hauing in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defe[n]ded his solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise of honourable action, in shewing that such a kind of co[n]teplatio[n] is but a glorious title to idlenes; that in actio[n] a man did not onely better himself, but benefit others; that the gods would not haue deliuered a soule into the body, which hath armes & legges, only instrume[n]ts of doing, but that it wer inte[n]ded the mind should imploy the[m] & that the mind should best know his own good or euill, by praftise: which knowledge was the onely way to increase the one, and correct the other: besides many other argumentes, which the plentifulnesse of the matter yeelded to the sharpnes of his wit. When he found Pyrocles leaue that, and fall into such an affected praising of the place, he left it likewise, and ioyned with him therein: because he found him in that humor vtter more store of passion; and euen thus kindly embrasing him, he said: Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitarinesse, as they would make me likewise yeeld my selfe vp into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more pleasant to enioy the companie of him that can speake such words, then by such wordes to be perswaded to follow solitarines. And euen so doo I giue you leaue (sweet Pyrocles) euer to defend solitarines; so long, as to defende it, you euer keep companie. But I maruell at the excessiue praises you giue to this countrie; in trueth it is not vnpleasant: but yet if you would returne into Macedon, you should see either many heauens, or find this no more then earthly. And eue[n] Tempe in my Thessalia, (where you & I to my great happinesse were brought vp together) is nothing inferiour vnto it. But I think you will make me see, that the vigor of your witte can shew it selfe in any subiect: or els you feede sometimes your solitarines with the conceites of the Poets, whose liberall pennes can as easilie trauaile ouer mountaines, as molehils: and so like wel disposed men, set vp euery thing to the highest note; especially, when they put such words in the mouths of one of these fantasticall mind-infected people, that children & Musitia[n]s cal Louers. This word, Louer, did no lesse pearce poore Pyrocles, then the right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula. There was not one part of his body, that did not feele a sodaine motion, while his hart with panting, seemed to daunce to the sounde of that word; yet after some pause (lifting vp his eyes a litle from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus) armed with the verie cou[n]tenance of the poore prisoner at the barr, whose aunswere is nothing but guiltie: with much a do he brought forth this question. And alas, saide he, deare cosin, what if I be not so much the Poet (the freedome of whose penne canne exercise it selfe in any thing) as euen that miserable subiect of his conning, whereof you speake ? Now the eternall Gods forbid (mainely cryed out Musidorus) that euer my eare should be poysoned with so euill newes of you. O let me neuer know that any base affectio[n] shuld get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was speaking more, Kalander came, and brake of their discourse, with inuiting the[m] to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which beeing harbored in a wood therby, he hoped would make them good sporte, and driue away some part of Daiphantus melancholy. They condiscended, & so going to their lodgings, furnished the[m] selues as liked them Daiphantus writing a fevv vvordes which he left in a sealed letter against their returne.
CHAP. 10.
1 Kalanders hunting. 2 Daiphantus his close departure, 3
and letter 4 Palladius his care, and 5 quest after him,
6 accompanied with Clitophon. 7 His finding and
taking on Amphilus his armor 8 Their encounter
with Queene Helens attendants. 9 Her mistaking Pal-
ladius.Then went they together abroad, the good Kalander entertaining the[m], with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he loued the sporte of hunting vvhen he was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber delights; that the Sunne (how great a iornie soeuer he had to make) could neuer preuent him with earlines, nor the Moone (with her sober countenance) disswade him from watching till midnight for the deeres feeding[.] O, saide he, you will neuer liue to my age, without you kepe your selues in breath with exercise, and in hart with ioyfullnes: too much thinking doth consume the spirits: & oft it falles out, that while one thinkes too much of his doing, he leaues to doe the effect of his thinking. Then spared he not to remember how much Arcadia was chaunged since his youth : actiuitie & good felowship being nothing in the price it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, still worse & worse. The[n] would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowen: and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and shortned the wayes length, till they came to the side of the wood, where the houndes were in couples staying their comming, but with a whining Accent crauing libertie: many of them in colour and marks so resembling, that it showed they were of one kinde. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their greene liueries, as though they were children of Sommer, with staues in their hands to beat the guiltlesse earth, when the houndes were at a fault, and with hornes about their neckes to sounde an alarum vpon a sillie fugitiue. The houndes were straight vncoupled, and ere long the Stagge thought it better to trust the nimblenes of his feete, then to the slender fortification of his lodging: but euen his feete betrayed him; for howsoeuer they went, they themselues vttered themselues to the sent of their enimies; who one taking it of an other, and sometimes beleeuing the windes aduertisements, sometimes the view of (their faithfull councellors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes then denounced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun. Their crie being composed of so well sorted mouthes, that any man would perceiue therein some kind of proportion, but the skilfull woodmen did finde a musick. Then delight and varietie of opinion drew the horsmen sundrie wayes; yet cheering their houndes with voyce and horn, kept still (as it were) together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citizens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters; and euen the Nimph Echo left to bewayle the losse of Narcissus, and became a hunter. But the Stagge was in the end so hotly pursued, that (leauing his flight) he was driuen to make courage of despaire; & so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testifie that he was at bay: as if from hotte pursuite of their enemie, they were sodainly come to a parley.
But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Countrey) was among the first that came in to the besiged Deere; whom when some of the younger sort would haue killed with their swordes, he woulde not suffer: but with a Crossebowe sent a death to the poore beast, who with teares shewed the vnkindnesse he tooke of mans crueltie.
But by the time that the whole companie was assembled, and that the Stagge had bestowed himselfe liberally among
2 them that had killed him, Daiphantus was mist, for whom Palladius carefully enquiring, no newes could be giuen him, but by one that sayd, he thought he was returned home; for that he markt him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by-way, which might lead to Kalanders house. That answer for the time satisfying, and they hauing perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges funeral, as the hounds triumph, they returned: some talking of the fatnes of the Deeres bodie; some of the fairenes of his head; some of the hounds cunning; some of their speed; and some of their cry: til comming home (about the time that the candle begins to inherit the Suns office) they found Daiphantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly maruailing, and a day or two passing, while neither search nor inquirie could help him to knowledge, at last he lighted vpon the letter, which Pyrocles had written before hee went a hunting, and left in his studie among other of his writings. The letter was directed to Palladius himselfe, and conteyned these words.
3 My onely friend, violence of loue leades me into such a course, wherof your knowledge may much more vexe you, then help me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since: if I wrong you, it is in respect I beare you. Returne into Thessalia, I pray you, as full of good fortune,as I am of desire: and if I liue, I will in short time follow you; if I die, loue my memorie.
This was all, and this Palladius read twise or thrise ouer,
4 Ah (said he) Pyrocles, vvhat meanes this alteratio[n]? vvhat haue I deserued of thee, to be thus banished of thy counsels? Heretofore I haue accused the sea, condemned the Pyrats, and hated my euill fortune, that depriued me of thee; But now thy self is the sea, vvhich drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that robbes thy selfe of me: Thy owne vvill becomes my euill fortune. The[n] turned he his thoughts to al forms of ghesses that might light vpon the purpose and course of Pyrocles: for he
was not so sure by his wordes, that it was loue, as he was doubtful where the loue was. One time he thought, some beautie in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes; an other time he feared, that it might be Parthenias excellencie, which had broken the bands of all former resolution. But the more he thought, the more he knew not what to thinke, armies of obiections rising against any accepted opinion.
Then as carefull he was what to doo himselfe: at length determined, neuer to leaue seeking him, till his search
5 should be either by meeting acco[m]plished, or by death ended. Therfore (for all the vnkindnesse bearing tender respect, that his friends secrete determination should be kept from any suspition in others) he went to Kalander, and told him, that he had receaued a message from his friend, by which he vnderstood he was gone backe againe into Laconia, about some matters greatly importing the poore men, whose protection he had vndertaken, and that it was in any sorte fit for him, to follow him, but in such priuate wise, as not to be knowne, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell: arming him selfe in a blacke armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his mind: and taking onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise iewels, leauing the greatest number of them, & most of his apparell with Kalander: which he did partly to giue the more cause to Kalander to expect their return, & so to be the lesse curiously inquisitiue after the[m]: and partly to leaue those honorable thankes vnto him, for his charge & kindnes, which he knew he would no other way receaue. The good old man hauing neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, receaued the things, with mind of a keeper, not of an owner; but before he went, desired he might haue the happines, fully to know what they were: which he said, he had euer till then delaid, fearing to be any way importune: but now he could not be so much an enemie to his desires as any longer to imprison the[m] in silence. Palladius tolde him that the matter was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserued the knowledge, and shuld haue it as soone as he might speak with his frie[n]d: without whose consent (because their promise bound him otherwise) he could not reueale it: but bad him hold for most assured, that if they liued but a while, he should find that they which bare the names of Daipha[n]tus and Palladius, would giue him & his cause to thinke his noble courtesie wel imploied. Kala[n]der would presse him no further: but desiring that he might haue leaue to go, or at least to sende his sonne and seruaunts with him, Palladius brake of all ceremonies, by telling him; his case stood so, that his greatest fauour should be in making lest adoo of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to be more cumber then courtesie, to striue, abstained from further vrging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of so sweet a conuersation.
Onely Clitophon by vehement importunitie obteyned to go
6 with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and accou[n]ted his Lord. And in such priuate guise departed Palladius, though hauing a companio[n] to talke with all, yet talking much more with vnkindnesse. And first they went to Mantinæa; whereof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him he went to Tegæa, Ripa, Enispæ, Stimphalus, and Pheneus, famous for the poisonous Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their eyes, their eares, and their tongue serue almost for nothing, but that enquirie. But they could know nothing but that in none of those places he was knowne. And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in like vncertaintie to their search, manie times encountring strange adue[n]tures, worthy to be registred in the roulles of fame; but this may not be omitted. As they past in a pleasant valley, (of either side
7 of which high hils lifted vp their beetle-browes, as if they would ouer looke the pleasantnes of their vnder-prospect) they were by the daintines of the place, & the wearines of the[m]selues, inuited to light fro[m] their horses; & pulling of their bits, that they might something refresh their mouths vpon the grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought vp vnder the care of those wel shading trees,) they the[m]selues laid the[m] downe hard by the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hils, and in the bottome of the valley, made of many springs a pretie brooke, like a common-wealth of many families: but when they had a while harkened to the persuasion of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place, till Clitiphon espied a peece of armour, & not far of an other peece: and so the sight of one peece teaching him to looke for more, he at length found all, with headpeece &. shield, by the deuise whereof, which was
he streight knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Wherupon (fearing some inco[n]uenience hapned vnto him) he told both his doubte, and his cause of doubte to Palladius, who (considering therof) thought best to make no longer stay, but to follow on: least perchance some viole[n]ce were offered to so worthy a Knight, whom the fame of the world seemed to set in ballance with any Knight liuing. Yet with a sodaine conceipt, hauing long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to learne by them that should know that armour, some newes of Amphialus, & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he by the help of Clitophon quickly put on that armour, whereof there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was some-thing too great, but yet serued well enough.
And so getting on their horses, they trauailed but a little way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire field,
8 they met with a coach drawne with foure milke-white horses, furnished all in blacke, with a black a more boy vpo[n] euery horse, they al apparelled in white, the coach it self very richly furnished in black & white. But before they could come so neere as to discerne what was within, there came running vpo[n] them aboue a dozen horsmen, who cried to the[m] to yeeld the[m]selues prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to grant ouer the possessio[n] of him self vpon so vniust titles, with sword drawne gaue them so rude an answer, that diuers of the[m] neuer had breath to reply again: for being wel backt by Clitophon & hauing an excelle[n]t horse vnder him, when he was ouerprest by some, he auoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellowes faults: and so, ether with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning force, left none of them either liuing, or able to make his life serue to others hurt. Which being done, he approched the coach, assuring the black boies they should haue no hurt, who were els readie to haue run away, & looking into the coach, he fou[n]d in the one end a Lady of great beaulie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & good nature, but al as much darkened, as might be, with sorow. In the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanure shewed well, they were but her seruants) holding before them a picture; in which was a goodly Ge[n]tleman (whom he knew not) painted, hauing in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being infected with their mistres weeping.
But the chiefe Ladie hauing not so much as once heard the
9 noise of this coflict (so had sorow closed vp al the entries of her mind, & loue tied her se[n]ces to that beloued picture) now the shadow of him falling vpo[n] the picture made her cast vp her eie, and seeing the armour which too wel she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (bloud coming more freely into her cheekes, as though it would be bold, & yet there growing new againe pale for feare) with a pitiful looke (like one vniustly conde[m]ned) My Lord Amphialus (said she) you haue enough punished me: it is time for cruelty to leaue you, & euil fortune me; if not I pray you, (& to graunt, my praier fitter time nor place you can haue) accomplish the one euen now, & finish the other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly vttered in her ofte staying speeches, poured it self so fast in teares, that Palladius could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of his helmet, Madame (said he) I perceaue you mistake me: I am a stranger in these parts, set vpon (without any cause giue[n] by me) by some of your seruants, whom because I haue in my iust defence euill entreated, I came to make my excuse to you, whom seing such as I doo, I find greater cause, why I should craue pardon of you. When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, and seing her men, some slaine, some lying vnder their dead horses,and striuing to get from vnder them, without making more account of the matter, Truely (said she) they are well serued that durst lift vp their armes against that armour. But Sir Knight, (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by this armour? for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then haue I more to say vnto you. Palladius assured her it was not so; telling her the true manner how he found it. It is like enough (said she) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately vsed. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prowes hath bereft me of my co[m]pany: let it yet so farre heale the woundes it selfe hath giuen, as to garde me to the next towne. How great so euer my businesse be fayre Ladie (said he) it shall willingly yeeld to so noble a cause: But first euen by the fauour you beare to the Lorde of this noble armour, I coniure you to tell me the storie of your fortune herein, lest hereafter when the image of so excellent a Ladie in so straunge a plight come before mine eyes, I condemne my selfe of want of consideration in not hauing demaunded thus much. Neither aske I it without protestation, that wherein my sworde and faith may auaile you, they shall binde themselues to your seruice. Your coniuration, fayre Knight (said she) is too strong for my poore spirite to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruine being but by one vnrelieueable) to graunt your wil herein: and to say the truth, a straunge nicenesse were it in me to refraine that from the eares of a person representing so much worthinesse, which I am glad euen to rockes and woods to vtter.
CHAP. 11.
The story of Queene Helen 2 Philoxenus her suiter 3 Am-
phialus an intercessor for his friende. 4 His praises,
5 birth, and 6 education . 7 Her love wonne to himselfe
8 His refusall and departure 9 Philoxenus wronge-rage
against him. 10 Their fight. 11 The death of sonne and
father. 12 Amphialus his sorrow and detestation of
the Queene. 13 A new onset on Palladius for Amphi-
alus his Armour : 14 whose griefe is amplified by mee-
ting his dead frends dog. 15 Palladius his parting with
Helen and Clitophon.
Know you then that my name is Helen, Queene by birth : and hetherto possession of the faire Citie and territorie of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloued of my people: and may iustly say, beloued, since they are content to beare with my absence, and folly. But I being left by my fathers death, and accepted by my people, in the highest degree, that countrie could receiue; assoone, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it; my court quickely swarmed full of suiters; some perchaunce louing my state, others my person, but once I know all of them, howsoeuer my possessions were in their harts, my beauty (such as it is) was in their mouthes; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine owne country, to whom ether birth or vertue gaue courage to auowe so high a desire.
Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lord Philoxenus, sonne and heire to the
2
vertuous noble man Timotheus : which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and (which passed all these) goodnes, and (which followed all these) loue of the people, beyond any of the great men of my countrie. Now this sonne of his I must say truly, not vnworthy of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of seruiseablenes to mee, and setting foorth of himselfe to win my fauour, wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I lesse misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce deliuered vnto him. Though I must protest it was a verie false embassadour, if it deliuered at all any affection, whereof my hart was vtterly void, I as then esteeming my selfe borne to rule, & thinking foule scorne willingly to submit my selfe to be ruled.
But whiles Philoxenus in good sorte pursued my fauour, and perchaunce nourished himselfe
3
with ouer much hope, because he found I did in some sorte acknowledge his valew, one time among the rest he brought with him a deare friend of his. With that she loked vpon the picture before her, & straight sighed, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought to be honoured with such oblations, and the her speach staied the tale, hauing brought her to that loke, but that looke hauing quite put her out of her tale. But Palladius greatly pitying so sweete a sorrow in a Ladie, whom by fame he had already knowen, and honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so longe vnto her moning, til she had recounted the rest of this story.
Why said she, this is the picture of Amphialus: what neede I say more to you ? what
4
eare is so barbarous but hath hard of Amphialus? who follows deeds of Armes, but euery where findes monumet of Amphialus? who is courteous, noble, liberall, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus? where are all heroicall parts, but in Amphialus? O Amphialus I would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee not so excellent, and yet would I not, that I would so : with that she wept againe, til he againe solliciting the conclusion of her story. Then must you (said she) know the story of Amphialus: for his will is my life, his life my history: and indeed, in what can I better employ my lippes, then in speaking of Amphialus?
This knight then whose figure you see, but whose mind can be painted by nothing, but by
5
the true shape of vertue, is brothers sonne to Basilius King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his olde yeeres marrying a young and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection in beauty: which put by their young cosin from that expectation. Whereupon his mother (a woman of a hauty hart, being daughter to the King of Argos, either disdaining, or fearing, that her sonne should liue vnder the power of Basilius sent him to that Lorde Timotheus (betwene whom and her dead husband ther had passed streight bands of mutuall hospitality to be brought vp in company with his sonne Philoxenus?
A happie resolution for Amphialus, whose excellent nature was by this meanes trayned
6
on with as good education, as any Princes sonne in the world could haue, which otherwise it is thought his mother (farre vnworthie of such a sonne) would not haue giuen him. The good Timotheus[ ]no lesse louing him then his owne sonne: well they grew in yeeres and shortly occasions fell aptly to trie Amphialus, and all occasions were but steppes for him to clime fame by. Nothing was so hard, but his valour ouercame : which yet still he so guided with true vertue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of but he, for his ma[n]hood, yet, as though therein he excelled him selfe, he was com[m]only called the courteous Amphialus. An endlesse thing it were for me to tell, how many aduentures (terrible to be spoken of) he atchieued: what monsters, what Giants, what conquest of countries: sometimes vsing policy, some times force, but alwaies vertue, well followed, and but followed by Philoxenus: betweene whom, and him, so fast a friendship by education was knit, that at last Philoxenus hauing no greater matter to employ his frindship in, then to winne me, therein desired, and had his vttermost furtheraunce: to that purpose brought he him to my court, where truly I may iustly witnes with him, that what his wit could conceiue (and his wit can conceaue as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forwarde the suite of his friend Philoxenus: my eares could heare nothing from him, but touching the worthines of Philoxenus and of the great happines it would be vnto me to haue such a husband: with many arguments, which God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much beleeue.
For why should I vse many circu[m]stances to come to that where alredy I am, and euer
7
while I liue must continue ? In fewe wordes, while he pleaded for an other, he wanne me for himselfe: if at least (with that she sighed) he would account it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence so full of beauty, sweetnes, and noble conuersation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes. O Lord, how did my soule hang at his lippes while he spake! O when he in feeling maner would describe the loue of his frend, how well (thought I) dooth loue betweene those lips! when he would with daintiest eloquence stirre pitie in me toward Philoxenus, why sure (said I to my selfe) Helen, be not afraid, this hart cannot want pitie: and when he would extol the deeds of Philoxenus, who indeede had but waited of him therin, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus, how euil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? What should I say? nay, what should I not say (noble knight) who am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine owne passions ?
Dayes paste; his eagernes for his friende neuer decreased, my affection to him euer
8
increased. At length, in way of ordinarie courtesie, I obteined of him (who suspected no such matter) this his picture, the only Amphialus, I feare that I shall euer enioy: and growen bolder, or madder, or bould with madnes, I discouered my affection vnto him. But, Lord, I shall neuer forget, how anger and courtesie, at one instant appeared in his eyes, when he heard that motion: how with his blush he taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing vnassayed, which might disgrace himselfe, to grace his fre[n]d; in sweet termes making me receiue a most resolute refusal of himself. But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, he left my court: hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits vpon absence) woulde make roome for his friende: to whome he woulde not vtter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde feare not to grieue him, or perchance (though he cares little for me) of a certaine honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discourse so much of my secrets: but as it should seeme, meant to trauell into farre countreyes, vntill his friends affection either ceased, or preuayled.
But within a while, Philoxenus came to see how onward the fruites were of his friends
9
labour, when (as in trueth I cared not much how he tooke it) he found me sitting, beholding this picture, I know not with how affectionate countena[n]ce, but I am sure with a most affectionate mind. I straight found ielousie and disdaine tooke hold of him: and yet the froward paine of mine owne harte made me so delight to punish him, whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way; that when he with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my fauor; I told him, that I would heare him more willingly, if he would speake for Amphialus, as well as Amphialus had done for him: he neuer answered me, but pale and quaking, went straight away; and straight my heart misgaue me some euill successe: and yet though I had authoritie inough to haue stayed him (as in these fatall things it falles out, that the hie-working powers make second causes vnwittingly accessarie to their determinations) I did no further but sent a foot-man of mine (whose faithfulnes to me I well knew) from place to place to follow him, and bring me word of his proceedings : which (alas) haue brought foorth that which I feare I must euer rewe.
For he had trauailed scarse a dayes iorney out of my Countrey, but that (not farre from
10
this place) he ouertooke Amphialus, who (by succouring a distressed Lady) had bene here stayed : and by and by called him to fight with him, protesting that one of the two should die: you may easily iudge how straunge it was to Amphialus, whose hart could accuse it selfe of no fault, but too much affection toward him, which he (refusing to fight with him) would faine haue made Philoxenus vnderstand, but (as my seruant since tolde me) the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him Traytor, and coward, yet neuer telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (saide Amphialus) I know I am no Traytor, and thou well knowest I am no coward: but I pray thee content thy selfe with this much, and let this satisfie thee, that I loue thee, since I beare thus much of thee, but he leauing words drew his sworde, and gaue Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodnes of his armour would haue slaine him: and yet so farre did Amphialus containe himselfe, stepping aside, and saying to him, Well Philoxenus, and thus much villany am I content to put vp, not any longer for thy sake (whom I haue no cause to loue, since thou dost iniure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee goe away, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou shalt make me soone yeeld to be thy seruant.
But he would not attend his wordes, but still strake so fiercely at Amphialus, that in the end (nature preuailing aboue determination) he was faine to defend him selfe, and with-all to offend him, that by an vnluckye blow the poore Philoxenus fell dead at his feete; hauing had time onely to speake some wordes, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake: which when Amphialus sawe, he forthwith gaue such tokens of true felt sorrow; that as my seruant said, no imagination could conceiue greater woe. But that by and by, an vnhappie occasion made Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow: for Philoxenus was but newly dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and vertuous Timotheus, who (hauing heard of his sonnes sodaine and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed him as speedily as he could; but alas not so speedily, but that he fou[n]d him dead before he could ouer take him. Though my hart be nothing but a stage for Tragedies; yet I must confesse, it is euen vnable to beare the miserable representation thereof: knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I haue done. Alas what sorrow, what amasement, what shame was in Amphialus, when he saw his deere foster father, find him the killer of his onely sonne? In my hart I know, he wished mountaines had laine vpon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus, sorow of his sonne and (I thinke principally) vnkindnes of Amphialus so deuoured his vitall spirits that able to say no more but Amphialus, Amphialus, haue I? he sancke to the earth, and presently dyed.
But not my tongue though daily vsed to complaints; no nor if my hart (which is nothing
12
but sorrow) were turned to tonges, durst it vnder-take to shew the vnspeakeablenes of his griefe. But (because this serues to make you know my fortune,) he threw away his armour, euen this which you haue now vpon you, which at the first sight I vainely hoped, he had put on againe; and the[n] (as ashamed of the light) he ranne into the thickest of the woods, lame[n]ting, & euen crying out so pityfully, that my seruant, (though of a fortune not vsed to much tendernes) could not refraine weeping when he tolde it me. He once ouertooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the only part of his armes (God knowes to what purpose) he caried about him, threatned to kill him if he folowed him, and withall, bad him deliuer this bitter message, that he wel inough fou[n]d, I was the cause of al this mischiefe: & that if I were a man, he would go ouer the world to kill me: but bad me assure my selfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated me. Ah Sir knight (whose eares I think by this time are tyred with the rugged wayes of these misfortunes) now way my case, if at lest you know what loue is. For this cause haue I left my country, putting in hazard how my people wil in time deale by me, adue[n]turing what perils or dishonors might ensue, only to folow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my neck vnto him, if that may redeem my trespas & assuage his fury. And now sir (said she) you haue your request, I pray you take paines to guide me to the next town, that there I may gather such of my company againe, as your valor hath left me. Palladius willingly co[n]disce[n]ded: but ere they began to go, there cam Clitophon, who hauing bene something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way: at length ouertaking him, & ready to kill him, vnderstood they were seruants to the faire Queene Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, who[m] they knew their mistresse sought; for she concealed her sorow, nor cause of her sorow from no body.
But Clitophon (very sorie for this accident) came back to comfort the Queene, helping
13
such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, & framing fre[n]dly co[n]struftio[n]s of this rashly vndertaken enmitie, when in comes another (till that time vn-seene) all armed, with his beuer downe, who first looking round about vpon the companie, as soone as he spied Palladius he drew his sword, and making no other prologue, let flie at him. But Palladius (sorie for so much harm as had alredy happened) sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his harte he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept betweene them, asking the new come knight the cause of his quarrell; who answered him, that he woulde kill that theefe, who had stollen away his masters armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladius lookt vpon him, and sawe that he of the other side had Palladius owne armour vpon him: truely (said Palladius) if I haue stolne this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with me vpon such a quarrell, you shall haue this armour willingly, which I did onely put on to doo honor to the owner. But Clitophon straight knewe by his words and voyce, that it was Ismenus, the faithfull & diligent Page of Amphialus: and therefore telling him that he was Clitophon and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who deserued all honour, the yong Gentleman pulled of his head-peece, and (lighting) went to kisse Palladius hands; desiring him to pardon his follie, caused by extreame griefe, which easilie might bring foorth anger. Sweete Gentleman (saide Palladius) you shall onely make me this amendes, that you shal cary this your Lords armour from me to him, and tell him from an vnknowen knight (who admires his worthines) that he cannot cast a greater miste ouer his glory, the[n] by being vnkind to so excelle[n]t a princesse as this Queene is. Ismenus promised he would, as soone as he durst find his maister: and with that went to doo his dutie to the Queene, whom in all these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoone as she saw Ismenus (looking to her picture) Ismenus (said she) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come you to bring me some sentence of death from him? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speake; and speake quickly. Alas Madame, said Ismenus, I haue lost my Lorde, (with that teares came vnto his eyes) for assoone as the vnhappie combate was concluded with the death both of father and sonne, my maister casting of his armour, went his way: forbidding me vpo[n] paine of death to follow him.
Yet diuers daies I followed his steppes; till lastly I found him, hauing newly met with an
14
excellent Spaniel, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog streight fawned on my master for old knowledge: but neuer was there thing more pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for louing his maisters murtherer, renewing a fresh his co[m]plaints, with the dumbe counceller, as if they might co[m]fort one another in their miseries. But my Lord hauing spied me, rase vp in such rage, that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said onely, if I would not displease him, I should not come neere him till he sent for me: too hard a com[m]aundement for me to disobey: I yeelded, leauing him onely waited on by his dog, and as I thinke seeking out the most solitarie places, that this or any other country can graunt him: and I returning where I had left his armour, found an other in steed thereof, & (disdaining I must confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight liuing) armed my selfe therein to play the foole, as eue[n] now I did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queen) a fitter messenger could hardly be to vnfold my Tragedie : I see the end, I see my ende.
With that (sobbing) she desired to be conducted to the next towne, where Palladius left
15
her to be waited on by Clitophon, at Palladius earnest entreatie, who desired alone to take that melancholy course of seeking his friend: & therefore changing armours again with Ismenus (who went withal to a castle belonging to his master) he c[n]otinued his quest for his friend Daiphantus.
CHAP. 12.
1 Palladius after long search of Daiphantus, lighteth on an
Amazon Ladie. 2 Her habite, 3 song, 4 and who she
was. 5 Obiections of the one against women, and loue of
them. 6 The answeres of the other for them both.
7 Their passionate conclusion in relenting kindnesse.
So directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots as
1
Spartans. There indeed he found his fame flourishing, his monument engraued in Marble, and yet more durable in mens memories; but the vniuersall lamenting his absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean prouince, to see whether at the Olympian games (there celebrated) he might in such concourse blesse his eyes with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportfull assemblie grewe to him a tedious lonelinesse, esteeming no bodie founde, since Daiphantus was lost. Afterward he passed through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, prowde of their two Seas, to learne whether by the streight of that Isthmus, it was possible to know of his passage. But finding euerie place more dumbe then other to his demaunds, and remembring that it was late-taken loue, which had wrought this new course, he returned againe (after two months trauaile in vaine) to make freshe searche in Arcadia; so much the more, as then first he bethought him selfe of the picture of Philoclea (in resembling her he had once loued) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping passion. And hauing alreadie past ouer the greatest part of Arcadia, one day comming vnder the side of the pleasaunt mountaine Mænalus, his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitiuenesse) with flat tiring taught him, that discrete stayes make speedie iourneis. And therefore lighting downe, and vnbrideling his horse, he him selfe went to repose him selfe in a little wood he sawe thereby. Where lying vnder the protection of a shadie tree, with intention to make forgetting sleepe comfort a sorrowfull memorie, he sawe a sight which perswaded, and obteyned of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a Ladie, who because she walked with her side toward him, he could not perfectly see her face; but so much he might see of her, that was a suretie for the rest, that all was excellent.
2
Well might he perceaue the hanging of her haire in fairest qua[n]titie, in locks, some curled, & some as it were forgotten, with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that she seemed she would lay them for a paterne, whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be more excellent: the rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with pearle, and so ioyned all ouer with gold wiers, and couered with feathers of diuers colours, that it was not vnlike to an helmet, such a glittering shew it bare, & so brauely it was held vp fro[m] the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of skie colour sattin, couered with plates of gold, & as it were nailed with pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether parts of her garment was so full of stuffe, & cut after such a fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discerne the smal of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short paire of crimson veluet buskins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was) to shew the fairenes of the skin. Ouer all this she ware a certaine mantell, made in such manner, that comming vnder the right arme, and couering most of that side, it had no fastning of the left side, but onely vpon the top of the shoulder: where the two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche iewell: the deuise wherof (as he after saw) was this: a Hercules made in little fourme, but a distaffe set within his hand as he once was by Omphales commaundement with a worde in Greeke, but thus to be interpreted, Neuer more valiant. On the same side, on her thigh shee ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needles weapon, since her other forces were without withstanding. But this Ladie walked out-right, till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose branches so louingly interlaced one the other, that it could resist the strogest violence of eye-sight; but she went into it by a doore she opened; which moued him as warely as he could to follow her, and by and by he might heare her sing this song, with a voice no lesse beautifull to his eares, then her goodlinesse was full of harmonie to his eyes.
3
Transformd in shew, but more transformd in minde,
I cease to striue with double conquest foild:
For (woe is me) my powers all I finde
With outward force, and inward treason spoild.
For from without came to mine eyes the blowe,
Whereto mine inward thoughts did faintly yeeld;
Both these conspird poore Reasons ouerthrowe;
False in my selfe, thus haue I lost the field.
Thus are my eyes still Captiue to one sight:
Thus all my thoughts are slaues to one thought still:
Thus Reason to his seruants yeelds his right;
Thus is my power transformed to your will.
What maruaile then I take a womans hew,
Since what I see, thinke, know is all but you?
4
The dittie gaue him some suspition, but the voice gaue him almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly thrusting open the dore, and entring into the arbour, he perceaued in deed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised, wherewith not receauing so much ioy to haue found him, as griefe so to haue found him, amazedly looking vpon him (as Apollo is painted when he saw Daphne sodainly turned into a Laurell) he was not able to bring forth a worde. So that Pyrocles (who had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would haue formed a substantiall excuse; but his insinuation being of blushinge, and his diuision of sighes, his whole oration stood vpon a short narration, what was the causer of this Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirites together, and yet casting a gastfull countenaunce vpon him (as if he would coniure some strange spirits) he thus spake vnto him.
And is it possible, that this is Pyrocles, the onely yong Prince in the world,
5
formed by nature, and framed by education, to the true exercise of vertue? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vexe me? for likelier sure I would haue thought it, that any outwarde face might haue bene disguised, then that the face of so excelle[n]t a mind coulde haue bene thus blemished. O sweete Pyrocles separate your selfe a little (if it be possible) from your selfe, and let your owne minde looke vpon your owne proceedings: so shall my wordes be needlesse, and you best instructed. See with your selfe, how fitt it will be for you in this your tender youth, borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not onely expectation, but proofe, desired of your olde Father, and wanted of your natiue countrie, now so neere your home, to diuert your thoughts from the way of goodnesse; to loose, nay to abuse your time. Lastly to ouerthrow all the excellent things you haue done, which haue filled the world with your fame; as if you should drowne your ship in the long desired hauen, or like an ill player, should marre the last act of his Tragedie. Remember (for I know you know it) that if we wil be men, the reasonable parte of our soule, is to haue absolute commaundement; against which if any sensuall weaknes arise, we are to yeelde all our sounde forces to the ouerthrowing of so vnnaturall a rebellion, wherein how can we wante courage, since we are to deale against so weake an aduersary, that in it selfe is nothinge but weakenesse ? Nay we are to resolue, that if reason direct it, we must doo it, and if we must doo it, we will doo it; for to say I cannot, is childish, and I will not, womanish. And see how extremely euery waye you endaunger your minde; for to take this womannish habit (without you frame your behauiour accordingly) is wholy vaine: your behauiour can neuer come kindely from you, but as the minde is proportioned vnto it. So that you must resolue, if you will playe your parte to any purpose, whatsoeuer peeuish affections are in that sexe, soften your hart to receiue them, the very first downe-steppe to all wickednes: for doo not deceiue your selfe, my deere cosin, there is no man sodainely excellentlie good, or extremely euill, but growes either as hee holdes himselfe vp in vertue, or lets himself slide to vitiousnes. And let vs see, what power is the aucthor of all these troubles: forsooth loue, loue, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: feare breedeth wit, Anger is the cradle of courage: ioy openeth and enhableth the hart: sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inwarde to looke to the correcting of it selfe; and so all generally haue power towards some good by the direction of right Reason. But this bastarde Loue (for in deede the name of Loue is most vnworthylie applied to so hatefull a humour) as it is engendered betwixt lust and idlenes; as the matter it workes vpon is nothing, but a certaine base weakenes, which some gentle fooles call a gentle hart; as his adioyned companions be vnquietnes, longings, fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, vngrounded rages, causlesse yeeldings; so is the hiest ende it aspires vnto, a litle pleasure with much paine before, and great repentaunce after. But that end how endlesse it runs to infinite euils, were fit inough for the matter we speake of, but not for your eares, in whome indeede there is so much true disposition to vertue: yet thus much of his worthie effects in your selfe is to be seen, that (besides your breaking lawes of hospitality with Kalander and of friendship with me) it vtterly subuerts the course of nature, in making reason giue place to sense, & man to woman. And truely I thinke heere-vpon it first gatte the name of Loue: for indeede the true loue hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth transform the very essence of the louer into the thing loued, vniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret & inward working. And herein do these kindes of loue imitate the excellent ; for as the loue of heauen makes one heauenly, the loue of vertue, vertuous; so doth the loue of the world make one become worldly, and this effeminate loue of a woman, doth so womanish a man, that (if he yeeld to it) it will not onely make him an Amazon; but a launder, a distaff-spinner; or what so euer other vile occupation their idle heads ca[n] imagin, & their weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but louing words) if either you remember what you are, what you haue bene, or what you must be: if you co[n]sider what it is, that moued you, or by what kinde of creature you are moued, you shall finde the cause so small, the effect so daungerous, your selfe so vnworthie to runne into the one, or to be driue[n] by the other, that I doubt not I shall quickly haue occasion rather to praise you for hauing conquered it, then to giue you further counsell, how to doo it.
6
But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but that he, who before he was espied, was afraid; after, being perceiued, was ashamed, now being hardly rubd vpon, lefte both feare and shame, and was moued to anger. But the exceeding good will he bare to Musidorus striuing with it, he thus, partely to satisfie him, but principally to loose the reines to his owne motions, made him answere. Cosin, whatsouer good disposition nature hath bestowed vpon me, or howsoeuer that disposition hath bene by bringing vp co[n]firmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet come to that degree of wisdome, to thinke light of the sexe, of whom I haue my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, the[n] I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a woma[n], & nursed of a woma[n]. And certe[n]ly (for this point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is stra[n]ge to see the vnman-like cruelty of ma[n]kind; who not co[n]tent with their tyran[n]ous a[m]bition, to haue brought the others vertuous patience vnder them (like to childish maisters) thinke their masterhood nothing, without doing iniury to them, who (if we will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same parts of the minde for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, euen this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honor do seek to counterfaite) doth well witnes, that if generally the swetnes of their dispositio[n]s did not make them see the vainnesse of these thinges, which we accopt glorious, they nether want valor of mind, nor yet doth their fairnes take away their force. And truely we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that if we haue such excelle[n]cies, it is reason to thinke them excellent creatures, of whom we are: since a Kite neuer brought forth a good flying Hauke. But to tel you true, as I thinke it superfluous to vse any wordes of such a subiect, which is so praised in it selfe, as it needes no praises; so withall I feare lest my conceate (not able to reach vnto them) bring forth wordes, which for their vnworthines may be a disgrace vnto the[m] I so inwardly honor. Let this suffice, that they are capable of vertue: & vertue (ye your selues say) is to be loued, & I too truly: but this I willingly co[n]fesse, that it likes me much better, when I finde vertue in a faire lodging, then when I am bound to seeke it in an ill fauoured creature, like a pearle in a dounghill. As for my fault of being an vnciuill guest to Kalander, if you could feele what an inward guest my selfe am host vnto: ye would thinke it very excuseable, in that I rather performe the dueties of an host, then the ceremonies of a guest. And for my breaking the lawes of friendshippe with you, (which I would rather dye, then effectually doo) truely, I could finde in my hart to aske you pardon for it, but that your handling of me giues me reason to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath himselfe, hauing bene transported with a litle vehemency, because it seemed him Musidorus had ouer-bitterly glaunsed against the reputation of woman-kinde: but then quieting his countenance (aswell as out of an vnquiet mind it might be) he thus proceeded on: And poore Loue (said he) deare cosin, is little beholding vnto you, since you are not contented to spoile it of the honor of the highest power of the mind, which notable me[n] haue attributed vnto it; but ye deiect it below all other passions, in trueth somewhat strangely; since, if loue receiue any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you preferre before it. For those kinds of bitter obiections (as, that lust, idlenes, and a Weak harte, shoulde be, as it were, the matter and forme of loue) rather touch me, deare Musidorus, then loue: But I am good witnesse of mine own imperfections, & therefore will not defende my selfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to your self: for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason stir me vp as ye did, by remebrance of my own vertue: or if indeed I be vertuous, the must ye co[n]fesse, that loue hath his working in a vertuous hart: & so no dout hath it, whatsoeuer I be: for if we loue vertue, in whom shal we loue it but in a vertuous creature? without your meaning be, I should loue this word vertue, where I see it written in a book. Those troblesome effects you say it breedes, be not the faults of loue, but of him that loues; as an vnable vessel to beare such a licour: like euill eyes, not able to look on the Sun; or like an ill braine, soonest ouerthrows with best wine. Euen that heauenly loue you speake of, is accopanied in some harts with hopes, griefs, longings, & dispaires. And in that heauely loue, since ther are two parts, the one the loue it self, th'other the excellency of the thing loued; I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now (like a diligent workman) make ready the chiefe instrument, and first part of that great worke, which is loue it self; which whe[n] I haue a while practised in this sort, then you shall see me turn it to greater matters. And thus gently you may (if it please you) think of me. Neither doubt ye, because I weare a womans apparell, I will be the more womannish, since, I assure you (for all my apparrel) there is nothing I desire more, then fully to proue my selfe a man in this enterprise. Much might be said in my defence, much more for loue, and most of all for that diuine creature, which hath ioyned me and loue together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schooles, then my troubled braines, which are bent rather in deeds to performe, then in wordes to defende the noble desire which possesseth me. O Lord (saide Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt your selfe? No (answered he) but it is the hurt you speake of, which makes me so sharp-witted. Euen so (said Musidorus) as euery base occupation makes one sharp in that practise, and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles} as each excellent thing once well learned, serues for a measure of all other knowledges. And is that become (said Musidorus} a measure for other things, which neuer receiued measure in it selfe? It is counted without measure (answered Pyrocles,) because the workings of it are without measure: but otherwise, in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted vnto it. The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the end. Enioying, answered Pyrocles, with a great sigh. O (said Musidorus) now set ye foorth the basenes of it: since if it ende in enioying, it shewes all the rest was nothing. Ye mistake me (answered Pyrocles) I spake of the end to which it is directed; which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your owne braine dis-enchaunt you (said Musidorus.) My hart is too farre possessed (said Pyrocles.) But the head giues you direction. And the hart giues me life; aunswered Pyrocles.
7
But Musidorus was so greeued to see his welbeloued friend obstinat, as he thought, to his owne destruction, that it forced him with more then accustomed vehemency, to speake these words; Well, well, (saide he) you list to abuse your selfe; it was a very white and red vertue, which you could pick out of a painterly glosse of a visage: Confesse the truth; and ye shall finde, the vtmost was but beautie; a thing, which though it be in as great excellencye in your selfe as may be in any, yet I am sure you make no further reckning of it, then of an outward fading benefite Nature bestowed vpon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded vertue, which must be like it selfe in all points, that what you wisely account a trifle in your selfe, you fondly become a slaue vnto in another. For my part I now protest, I haue left nothing vnsaid, which my wit could make me know, or my most entier friendship to you requires of me; I do now besech you euen for the loue betwixt vs (if this other loue haue left any in you towards me) and for the remembraunce of your olde careful father (if you can reme[m]ber him that forget your self) lastly for Pyrocles owne sake (who is now vpon the point of falling or rising) to purge your selfe of this vile infection; other wise giue me leaue, to leaue of this name of friendsh[i]p, as an idle title of a thing which cannot be, where vertue is abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so much cloied Pyrocles, though he were very vnpatient of long deliberations, as the last farewel of him he loued as his owne life, did wound his soule, thinking him selfe afflicted, he was the apter to conceiue vnkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking his head, and deliuering some shewe of teares, he thus vttered his griefes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, how cruelly you deale with me; if you seeke the victory, take it; and if ye liste, triumph. Haue you all the reason of the world, and with me remaine all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay from me, then the Crow can be perswaded by the Swanne to cast of all his black fethers. But truely you deale with me like a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilent feuer, should chide him, in steede of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a friend, that visiting his friend condemned to perpetuall prison; and loaden with greeuous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he wuld leaue him. I am sicke, & sicke to the death; I am a prisoner, neither is any redresse, but by her to whom I am slaue. Now if you list to leaue him that loues you in the hiest degree: But remember euer to cary this with you, that you abandon your friend in his greatest extremity.
And herewith the deepe wound of his loue being rubbed afresh with this new vnkindnes, bega[n] (as it were) to bleed again, in such sort that he was not hable to beare it any longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing his armes ouer his woefull hart, as if his teares had beene out-flowing blood, his armes an ouer-pressing burthen, he suncke downe to the ground, which sodaine traunce went so to the hart of Musidorus that falling down by him & kissing the weping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speach; which if it had bene ouer vehement, yet was it to be borne withall, because it came out of a loue much more vehement; that he had not thought fancie could haue receiued so deep a wound: but now finding in him the force of it, hee woulde no further contrary it; but imploy all his seruice to medicine it, in such sort, as the nature of it required. But euen this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former vnkindnes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent look vpo[n] Musidorus, as who should say, And is it possible that Musidorus should threaten to leaue me? And this strooke Musidorus minde and senses so dumbe too, that for griefe being not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed one vpon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true passion of vnkindnes to be neuer aright, but betwixt them that most dearely loue.
And thus remayned they a time; till at length, Musidorus embrasing him, said, And will you thus shake of your friend? It is you that shake me of (saide Pyrocles) being for my vnperfectnes vnworthie of your friendshippe. But this (said Musidorus) shewes you more vnperfect, to be cruell to him, that submits himselfe vnto you; but since you are vnperfect (said he smiling) it is reason you be gouerned by vs wise and perfect men. And that authoritie will I beginne to take vpon me, with three absolute com[m]andements: The first, that you increase not your euill with further griefes: the second, that you loue her with all the powers of your mind: & the last com[m]andeme[n]t shalbe, ye com[m]and me to do what seruice I can, towards the attaining of your desires. Pyrocles hart was not so oppressed with the mighty passio[n]s of loue and vnkindnes, but that it yeelded to some mirth at this commaundement of Musidorus, that he should loue: so that something cleering his face from his former shewes of griefe; Wel (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing of your commandementes, that you are fitter to be a Prince, then a Counseller: and therfore I am resolued to imploy all my endeuour to obey you; with this condition, that the comandementes ye commaund me to lay vpon you, shall onely be, that you continue to loue me, and looke vpon my imperfections, with more affection then iudgeme[n]t. Loue you? (said he) alas, how can my hart be seperated from the true imbrasing of it, without it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let vs leaue of these flowers of newe begun frendship: and now I pray you againe tel me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance, the storie of your affections both beginning, and proceeding: assuring your selfe, that there is nothing so great, which I will feare to doo for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdaine to doo for you. Let me therfore receiue a cleere vnderstating, which many times we misse, while those things we account small, as a speech, or a look are omitted, like as a whole sentence may faile of his congruitie, by wanting one particle. Therefore betweene frends, all must be layd open, nothing being superfluous, nor tedious. You shalbe obeyed (said Pyrocles) and here are we in as fitte a place for it as may be; for this arbor no body offers to come into but my selfe; I vsing it as my melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respect is born vnto it; yet if by cha[n]ce any should come, say that you are a seruant sent from the Q. of the Amazons to seeke me, and then let me alone for the rest. So sate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said.
CHAP. 13.
l How Pyrocles fell in loue with Philoclea. 2 His counsell
and course therein. 3 His disguising into Zelmane.
4 Her meeting with Damaetas, 5 Basilius, 6 the Queene
and her daughters, & their speaches. 7 Her abode there
ouer entreated; 8 and the place thereof described.
Cousin (saide hee) then began the fatall ouerthrowe of all my libertie, when
1
walking among the pictures in Kalanders house, you your selfe deliuered vnto mee what you had vnderstood of Philoclea, who muche resembling (though I must say much surpassing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom too well I loued: there were mine eyes infected, & at your mouth did I drinke my poison. Yet alas so sweete was it vnto me, that I could not be contented, til Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaratio[n]. Which the more I questioned, the more pittie I conceaued of her vnworthie fortune: and when with pittie once my harte was made tender, according to the aptnesse of the humour, it receaued quickly a cruell impression of that wonderful passio[n] which to be definde is impossible, because no wordes reach to the strange nature of it: they onely know it, which inwardly feele it, it is called loue. Yet did I not (poore wretch) at first know my disease, thinking it onely such a woonted kind of desire, to see rare sights; & my pitie to be no other, but the fruits of a gentle nature. But eue[n] this arguing with my selfe came of further thoughts; & the more I argued, the more my thoughts encreased. Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though the Architecture of the lodges would haue bene much for my learning; but more desirous to see her selfe, to be iudge, forsooth, of the painters cun[n]ing. For thus at the first did I flatter my selfe, as though my wound had bene no deeper: but when within short time I came to the degree of vncertaine wishes, and that the wishes grew to vnquiet longings, when I could fix my thoughts vpo[n] nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philoclea: when each thing I saw, seemed to figure out some parts of my passions; whe[n] euen Parthenias faire face became a lecture to me of Philocleas imagined beautie; when I heard no word spoken, but that me thought it caried the sum of Philocleas name: then indeed, then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner, before I had leasure to arme my selfe; & that I might well, like the spaniel, gnaw vpon the chaine that ties him, but I should sooner marre my teeth, then procure liberty.
2
Yet I take to witnesse the eternall spring of vertue, that I had neuer read, heard, nor seene any thing; I had neuer any tast of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in my selfe, which for a while I did not call for my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say corrupted) I must needs confesse, conquered; and that me thought euen reason did assure me, that all eies did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beautie? Nothing in trueth could holde any plea with it, but the reuerent friendship I bare vnto you. For as it went against my harte to breake any way from you, so did I feare more then anie assault to breake it to you: finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute, counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: & that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a re-spected frie[n]d. This made me determine with myself, (thinking it a lesse fault in frie[n]dship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your wil) to take this secret course: Which conceit was most builded vp in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; whe[n] vpo[n] your speach with me, & my but naming loue, (when els perchauce I would haue gone further) I saw your voice & cou[n]tenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my reuealing it should but purchase your griefe with my cumber: & therfore (deere Musidorus) eue[n] ran away fro[m] thy wel knowne chiding: for hauing writte[n] a letter, which I know not whether you found or no, & taking my chiefe iewels with me, while you were in the middest of your sport, I got a time (as I think) unmarked, to steale away, I cared not whether so I might scape you: & so came I to Ithonia in the prouince of Messenia; wher lying secret I put this in practise which before I had deuised. For reme[m]bring by Philanax his letter, &
3
Kaladers speech, how obstinately Basilius was determined not to mary his daughters, & therfore fearing, lest any publike dealing should rather increase her captiuitie, then further my loue; Loue (the refiner of inuentio[n]) had put in my head thus to disguise my self, that vnder that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and what accesse could bring forth, commit to fortune & industry: determining to beare the countenance of an Amazon. Therfore in the closest maner I could, naming my selfe Zelmane, for that deere Ladies sake, to whose memorie I am so much bound, I caused this apparell to be made, and bringing it neere the lodges, which are harde at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting till occasion might make me found by them, whom I sought: which the next morning hapned as well, as my owne plot could haue laide it. For after I had runne ouer the whole petigree of my thoughts, I gaue my selfe to sing a little, which as you know I euer delighted in, so now especially, whether it be the nature of this clime to stir vp Poeticall fancies, or rather as I thinke, of loue; whose scope being pleasure, will not so much as vtter his griefes, but in some forme of pleasure.
4
But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displeased with my bad musike) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his hand, chafing, and swearing by the patable of Pallas, & such other othes as his rusticall brauery could imagine; & whe[n] he saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him the[n] my harmony; for leaning his hands vpon his bil, & his chin vpon his ha[n]ds, with the voice of one that plaieth Hercules in a play, but neuer had his fancie in his head, the first word he spake to me, was, am not I Dametas? why, am not I Dametas? he needed not name him selfe: for Kalanders description had set such a note vpo[n] him, as made him very notable vnto me, and therefore the height of my thoughts would not discend so much as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward discourses: which (he perchaunce witnes of his owne vnworthines, & therefore the apter to thinke him selfe contened) tooke in so hainous manner, that standing vpo[n] his tip-toes, and staring as though he would haue a mote pulled out of his eie, Why (said he) thou woma[n], or boy, or both, what soeuer thou be, I tell thee here is no place for thee, get thee gone, I tell thee it is the Princes pleasure, I tell thee it is Dametas pleasure. I could not choose, but smile at him, seeing him looke so like an Ape that had newly taken a purgation; yet taking my selfe with the maner, spake these wordes to my selfe: O spirite (saide I) of mine, how canst thou receaue anie mirth in the midst of thine agonies, and thou mirth how darest thou enter into a minde so growne of late thy professed enemie? Thy spirite (saide Dametas) doost thou thinke me a spirite? I tell thee I am Basilius officer, and haue charge of him, and his daughters. O onely pearle (said I sobbing) that so vile an oyster should keepe thee? By the combe-case of Diana (sware Dametas) this woman is mad: oysters, and pearles? doost thou thinke I will buie oysters? I tell thee once againe get thee packing, and with that lifted vp his bill to hit me with the blunt ende of it: but indeede that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I forgat al Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde me, from his childehood euer feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his hands aboue his head) at lest twentie paces, gaping and staring, with the verie grace (I thinke) of the clownes, that by Latonas prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, finding himselfe without the compasse of blowes, he fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe he had passed through the discipline of a Tauerne. But seeing me walke vp and downe, without marking what he saide, he went his way (as I perceiued after) to Basilius: for within a while he came vnto mee, bearing in deed shewes in his countenaunce of an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesie, as Dametas with rudenesse saluting me, Faire Lady (saide he) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receiue solitary persons; but much do I maruaile, how such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I (that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a graue maiestie vpon him, as if I found in my selfe cause to be reuerenced. They are neuer alone (saide I) that are accompanied with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basilius) canot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition in others, nor defend you from melancholy in your selfe. I then shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better warraunt (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater pleasures, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to satisfie others, (saide Basilius.) Those that be good (saide I,) and they wil be satisfied as long as they see no euill. Yet will the best in this country, (said Basilius) suspect so excellent a beauty being so weakely garded. Then are the best but starke nought, (aunswered I) for open suspecting others, comes of secrete condemning themselues; But in my countrie (whose manners I am in all places to maintaine and reuerence) the generall goodnes (which is nourished in our harts) makes euery one thinke the strength of vertue in an other, whereof they finde the assured foundation in themselues. Excellent Ladie (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your cou[n]try, that I must needes desire to know what the nest is, out of which such Byrds doo flye. You must first deserue it (said I) before you may obtaine it. And by what meanes (saide Basilius) shall I deserue to know your estate? By letting me first knowe yours (aunswered I.) To obey you (said he) I will doe it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be knowen first, as you doo deserue in all points to be preferd. Know you (faire Lady) that my name is Basilius, vnworthily Lord of this cou[n]try: the rest, either fame hath brought to your eares, or (if it please you to make this place happie by your presence) at more leasure you shall vnderstand of me. I that from the beginning assured my selfe it was he, but would not seeme I did so, to keepe my grauitie the better, making a peece of reuerece vnto him, Mighty Prince (said I) let my not knowing you serue for the excuse of my boldnes, and the little reuerence I doe you, impute it to the manner of my cou[n]try, wh[i]ch is the inuincible Lande of the Amazons; My selfe neece to Senicia, Queene thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slaine by the bloody hand of Pyrrhus. I hauing in this my youth determined to make the worlde see the Amazons excellencies, aswell in priuate, as in publicke vertue, haue passed some daungerous aduentures in diuers cou[n]tries: till the vnmercifull Sea depriued me of my company: so that shipwrack casting me not far hence, vncertaine wandring brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to tast that, which since he hath swallowed vp, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning intreating my aboad, then any greedy host would vse to well paying passingers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned alredy so much, that it was aganst my womanhoode to be forward in my owne wishes. And therefore he (to proue whither intercessions in fitter mouths might better preuaile) commaunded Dametas to bring forthwith his wife and daughters thether; three Ladies, although of diuers, yet all of excellent beauty.
6
His wife in graue Matronlike attire, with countenaunce and gesture sutable, and of such fairnes (being in the streng[t]h of her age) as if her daughters had not bene by, might with iust price haue purchased admiration; but they being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would thinke her a worthy mother of such children. The faire Pamela, whose noble hart I finde doth greatly disdaine, that the trust of her vertue is reposed in such a louts hands as Dametas, had yet to shew an obedience, taken on a shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte ful of pleights, with long and wide sleeues: but beleeue me she did apparell her apparell, and with the pretiousnes of her body made it most sumptuous. Her haire at the full length, wound about with gold lace, onely by the comparison to see how farre her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which sweetly rase vp like two faire Mountainets in the pleasaunt valley of Tempe) there honge a very riche Diamond set but in a blacke home, the worde I haue since read is this; yet still my selfe. And thus particularly haue I described them, because you may know that mine eyes are not so partiall, but that I marked them too. But when the ornament of the Earth, the modell of heauen, the Triumphe of Nature, the light of beauty, Queene of Loue, you[n]g Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like apparell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of her perfections; & yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best store of her beuty to her self: her haire (alas too poore a word, why should I not rather call the her beames) drawe vp into a net, able to take Iupiter when he was in the forme of an Eagle; her body (O sweet body) couered with a light taffeta garment, so cut, as the wrought smocke came through it in many places, inough to haue made your restraind imaginatio[n] haue thought what was vnder it: with the cast of her blacke eyes; blacke indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the more able to behold & bear their wo[n]derfull shining, or that she, (goddesse like) would work this miracle in her selfe, in giuing blacknes the price aboue all beauty. Then (I say) indeede me thought the Lillies grew pale for enuie, the roses me thought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheekes, & the apples me thought, fell downe fro[m]the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast; Then the cloudes gaue place, that the heaue[n]s .might more freshly smile vpo[n] her; at the lest the cloudes of my thoughts quite vanished: and my sight (then more cleere and forcible then euer) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well wrought image, with some life in shew, but none in practise. And so had I beene like inough to haue stayed long time, but that Gynecia stepping betweene my sight and the onely Philoclea, the chaunge of obiect made mee recouer my senses: so that I coulde with reasonable good manner receiue the salutation of her, and of the Princesse Pamela, doing the yet no further reuere[n]ce then one Prince vseth to another. But when I came to the neuer-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall downe on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I must confesse) with more then womanly ardency, Diuine Lady, (saide I) let not the worlde, nor these great princes maruaile, to se me (contrary to my manner) do this especiall honor vnto you, since all both men and women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty. But she blushing (like a faire morning in Maye) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (saide she) it is no maruaile to see your iudgement mistaken in my beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more honour vnto me then to them, whom I my selfe owe all seruice. Rather (answered I with a bowed downe countenaunce) that shewes the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such an errour, if it were an errour. You are so well acquainted (saide she sweetely, most sweetely smiling,) with your owne-beautie, that it makes you easilie fall into the discourse of beauty. Beauty in me? (said I truely sighing) alas if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted vnto them.
7
But then (as I thinke) Basilius willing her so do, Well (saide she) I must needs confesse I haue heard that it is a great happines to be praised of them that are most praise worthie; And well I finde that you are an inuincible Amazon, since you will ouercome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty be any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will remaine some while in this co[m]panie, to ease your owne trauail, and our solitarines. First let me dye (said I) before any word spoken by such a mouth, should come in vaine.
And thus with some other wordes of entertaining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truely a place for pleasantnes, not vnfitte to flatter solitarinesse; for it being set vpon such an vnsensible rising of the ground, as you are come to a prety height before almost you perceiue that you ascend, it giues the eye lordship ouer a good large circuit, which according to the nature of the coutry, being diuersified betwene hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, and the other more darksome, it seemes a pleasant picture of nature, with louely lightsomnes and artificiall shadowes. The Lodge is of a yellow stone, built in the forme of a starre ; hauing round about a garden framed into like points: and beyond the gardein, ridings cut out, each aunswering the Angles of the Lodge: at the end of one of them is the other smaller Lodge, but of like fashion; where the gratious Pamela liueth: so that the Lodge seemeth not vnlike a faire Comete, whose taile stretcheth it selfe to a starre of lesse greatnes.
CHAP. 14.
1 The deuises of the first banket to Zelmane. 2 Her crosses in
loue, 3 by the loue of Basilius 4 and Gynecia 5 The
conclusion between Musidorus and Zelmane.
So Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after I was inuited
1
and brought downe to suppe with them in the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall ornaments, then artificiall inuentions: wherein is a banquetting house among certaine pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of Vine branches. The table was set neere to an excellent water-worke; for by the casting of the water in most cunning maner, it makes (with the shining of the Sunne vpon it) a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heauenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely, that they did not onely deceiue the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs; which the watrie instruments did make their gorge deliuer. The table at which we sate, was round, which being fast to the floore whereon we sate, and that deuided from the rest of the buildings (with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turne rounde, by meanes of water which ranne vnder, and carried it about as a Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to mee, to make diuers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set) was carried still in equall distance from me, and that onely my eyes did ouertake her; which when the table was stayed, and wee beganne to feede, dranke much more eagerlie of her beautie, then my mouth did of any other licour. And so was my common sense deceiued (being chiefly bent to her) that as I dranke the wine, and withall stale a looke on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousnesse. But alas, the one thirste was much more inflamed, then the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselues open to receiue all the dartes she did throwe, somtimes cloze vp with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie, they woulde preserue the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lidde as curtaines ouer the image of beautie, her presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now growen a seruant to passion) did yet often tel his master, that he should more moderatly vse his delight. But he, that of a rebell was become a Prince, disdayned almost to allow him the place of a Counsellor: so that my senses delights being too stro[n]g for any other resolution, I did euen loose the raines vnto them: hoping, that (going for a woman) my lookes would passe, either vnmarked, or vnsuspected.
2
Now thus I had (as me thought) well playd my first acte, assuring my selfe, that vnder that disguisment, I should find opportunitie to reueal my self to the owner of my harte. But who would thinke it possible (though I feele it true) that in almost eight weekes space, I haue liued here (hauing no more companie but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a woman, and watchfull, as being a louer) yet could neuer finde opportunitie to haue one minutes leasure of priuie conference: the cause whereof is as strange, as the effects are to me miserable. And (alas) this it is.
At the first sight that Basilius had of me (I think Cupid hauing headed his
3
arrows with my misfortune) he was striken (taking me to be such as I professe) with great affectio[n] towards me, which since is growen to such a doting loue, that (till I was faine to gette this place, sometimes to retire vnto freely) I was euen choaked with his tediousnes. You neuer saw fourscore yeares daunce vp and downe more liuely in a young Louer: now, as fine in his apparrell, as if he would make me in loue with a cloake; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted Louer in Arcadia. Doo you not think that this is a sallet of woormwood, while mine eyes feede vpon the Ambrosia of Philocleas beauty.
But this is not all; no this is not the worst; for he (good man) were easy enough to be dealt with: but (as I thinke) Loue and mischeefe hauing made a wager, which should haue most power in me, haue set Gynecia also on such a fire towardes me, as will neuer (I feare) be quenched but with my destruction. For she (being a woman of excellent witte, and of strong working thoughts) whether she suspected me by my ouer-vehement showes of affection to Philoclea (which loue forced me vnwisely to vtter, while hope of my maske foolishly incouraged me) or that she hath take some other marke of me, that I am not a woman: or what deuil it is hath reuealed it vnto her, I know not; but so it is, that al her countenances, words and gestures, are miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learne, that these auoydings of companie, doo but make the passions more violent, when they meete with fitte subiects. Truely it were a notable dumb
4
shew of Cupids kingdome, to see my eyes (languishing with ouer-vehement longing) direct themselues to Philoclea: & Basilius as busie about me as a Bee, & indeed as cumbersome; making such suits to me, who nether could if I would; nor would if I could, helpe him: while the terrible witte of Gynecia, carried with the beere of violent loue, runnes thorow vs all. And so ielous is she of my loue to her daughter, that I could neuer yet beginne to open my mouth to the vneuitable Philoclea, but that her vnwished presence gaue my tale a co[n]clusion, before it had a beginning.
And surely if I be not deceiued, I see such shewes of liking, and (if I bee acquainted with passions) of almost a passionate liking in the heauenly Philoclea, towardes me, that I may hope her eares would not abhorre my discourse. And for good Basilius, he thought it best to haue lodged vs together, but that the eternall hatefulnes of my destinie, made Gynecias ielousie stoppe that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confesse, that one way her loue doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish fortune, or vnfortunate follie, to be knowen by her, that keepes her from bewraying me to Basilius. And thus (my Musidorus) you haue my Tragedie played vnto you by my selfe, which I pray the gods may not in deede prooue a Tragedie. And there he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh.
5
Musidorus recomended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricatenes, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceiuing his affection so grou[n]ded, that striuing against it, did rather anger then heale the wound, and rather call his friendshippe in question, then giue place to any friendly counsell. Well (said he) deare cosin, since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humor of loue, yet happie it is, that your loue is imployed vpon so rare a woman: for certainly, a noble cause dooth ease much a grieuous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I can[n]ot see wherein I can be seruisable vnto you. I desire no greater seruice of you (a[n]swered Pyrocles) the[n] that you remayn secretly in this country, & some-times come to this place; either late in the night, or early in the morning, where you shal haue my key to e[n]ter, bicause as my fortune, eyther amendes or empaires. I may declare it vnto you, and haue your counsell and furtheraunce: & hereby I will of purpose lead her, that is the prayse, and yet the staine of all womankinde, that you may haue so good a view, as to allowe my iudgement: and as I can get the most conuenient time, I wil come vnto you ; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge; it is harde at hande. But now, (said she) it is time for me to leaue you, and towardes euening wee will walke out of purpose hetherward, therefore keepe your selfe close in that time. But Musidorus bethinking him selfe that his horse might happen to bewray them, thought it best to returne for that day, to a village not farre of, and dispatching his horse in some sorte, the next day early to come a foote thither, and so to keepe that course afterward, which Pyrocles very well liked of. Now farewell deere cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles, nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the onely hope of my aduauncement. And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was cleare, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who departed as full of care to helpe his friend, as before he was to disswade him.
CHAP. 15.
1 The Labyrinth of Zelmanes loue.2 The Ladies exerci-
ses. 3 The challenge of Phalantus in paragon of Ar- texias beautie. 4 The description of their persons and affections: 5 and occasion of this challenge. 6 The suc- cesse thereof abroad.
Zelmane returned to the Lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched by
1
Gynecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse, desirous to runne, and miserablie spurred, but so short rainde, as he cannot stirre forward: Zelmane sought occasion to speake with Philoclea ; Basilius with Zelmane; and Gynecia hindered them all. If Philoclea hapned to sigh (and sigh she did often) as if that sigh were to be wayted on, Zelmane sighed also; whereto Basilius and Gynecia soone made vp foure parts of sorow. Their affection increased their conuersation; and their conuersation increased their affection. The respect borne bredde due ceremonies; but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were (like children afore sweet meate) eager, but fearefull of their ill-pleasing gouernors. Time in one instant, seeming both short, and long vnto them: short, in the pleasingnes of such presence: long, in the stay of their desires.
But Zelmane fayled not to intice them all many times abroad, because she
2
was desirous her friend Musidorus (neere whom of purpose she ledde them) might haue full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little Riuer neere hand, which for the moisture it bestowed vpon rootes of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadowe. There would they sitte downe, & pretie wagers be made betweene Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the fitte pray for them was hartes of Princes. She also had an angle in her hand; but the taker was so taken, that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the meane time would be the cooke him selfe of what was so caught, & Gynecia sit stil, but with no stil pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a seeled Doue, who the blinder she was, the higher she straue. Another time a Kite, which hauing a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let flie, called all the Kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the worlde is deceaued) thinking her prosperous when indeed she was wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion of riches may wel be dangerous.
But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant shew;
3
for one euening as Basilius returned from hauing forced his thoughts to please themselues in such small conquests, there came a shepheard, who brought him word that a Gentlema[n] desired leaue to do a message from his Lord vnto him. Basilius granted; wherupon the Gentleman came, and after the dutifull ceremonies obserued, in his maisters name tolde him, that he was sent from Phala[n]tus of Corinth, to craue licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defie all Arcadian Knights in the behalfe of his mistres beautie, who would besides, her selfe in person be present, to giue euident proofe what his launce should affirme. The conditions of his chalenge were, that the defendant should bring his mistresse picture, which being set by the image of Artesia (so was the mistresse of Phalantus named) who in six courses should haue better of the other, in the iudgement of Basilius, with him both the honors and the pictures should remaine. Basilius (though he had retired him selfe into that solitarie dwelling, with intention to auoid, rather then to accept any matters of drawing company; yet because he would entertaine Zelmane, (that she might not think the time so gainefull to him, losse to her) graunted him to pitch his tent for three dayes, not farre from the lodge, and to proclayme his chalenge, that what Arcadian Knight (for none els but vpon his perill was licensed to come) woulde defende what he honored against Phalantus, should haue the like freedome of accesse and returne.
4 This obteyned and published, Zelmane being desirous to learne what this Phalantus was, hauing neuer knowne him further then by report of his owne good, in somuch as he was commonly called, The faire man of armes, Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to knowe in parte the discourse of his life, which was, that he was bastard-brother to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth, and deerly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being honorablie courteous, and wronglesly valiaunt, considerately pleasant in conuersation, & an excellent courtier without vn-faithfulnes; who (finding his sisters vnperswadeable melancholy, thorow the loue of Amphialus) had for a time left her court, and gone into Laconia: where in the warre against the Helots, he had gotte[n] the reputatio[n] of one, that both durst & knew. But as it was rather choise the[n] nature, that led him to matters of armes, so as soon as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delightes, being beloued in all copanies for his louely qualities, & (as a ma[n] may terme it) cunning cherefulnes, wherby to the Prince & Court of Laconia, none was more agreable the[n] Phalantus: and he not giuen greatly to struggle with his owne disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, hauing a fortune sufficient to content, & he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defendes, became her seruant, said him selfe, and perchaunce thought him selfe her louer. But certainly, (said Basilius) many times it falles out, that these young companies make themselues beleeue they loue at the first liking of a likely beautie; louing, because they will loue for want of other businesse, not because they feele indeed that diuine power, which makes the heart finde a reason in passion: and so (God knowes) as inconstantly leane vpon the next chaunce that beautie castes before them. So therefore taking loue vppon him like a fashion, he courted this Ladie Artesia, who was as fit to paie him in his owne monie as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beautie if she were not prowde of it, called her disdaine of him chastitie, and placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her: determining neuer to marrie, but him, whome she thought worthie of her: and that was one, in whome all worthinesse were harboured. And to this conceipt not onely nature had bent her, but the bringing vp she receaued at my sister in lawe Cecropia, had confirmed her: who hauing in her widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge; because her Father had bene a deare friend of her dead husbandes, and taught her to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including heauen & earth in ones self: and that loue, courtesie, gratefulnesse, friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then taken in ones selfe: And so good discipline she found of her, that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was co[n]tent (if so her sonne could haue liked of it) to haue wished her in marriage to my Nephew Amphialus. But I thinke that desire hath lost some of his heate, since she hath knowne, that such a Queene as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a kingdome, to buie his fauour; for if I be not deceaued in my good sister Cecropia, shee thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes vnder a crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Nephew Amphialus; for I ca[n] neuer deeme that loue, which in hauty harts proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock themselves; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that way, I thinke, because all her desires be veheme[n]t, in so much that she hath both placed her onely brother (a fine youth called Ismenus) to be his squire, and her selfe is content to waite vpon my sister, till she may see the vttermost what she may worke in Amphialus: who being of a melancholic (though I must needes saye courteous and noble) mind, seems to loue nothing lesse then Loue: & of late hauing through some adventure, or inwarde miscontentment, withdrawne him selfe fro[m] any bodies knowledge, where he is: Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the court of Laconia, whether she was sent for by the Kinges wife, to whome she is somewhat allied.
And there after the war of the Helots, this Knight Phalantus, (at least for tongue-delight) made him selfe her servaunt, and she so little caring, as not to showe mislike thereof, was content onely to be noted to haue a notable servaunt. For truely one in my court neerely acquainted with him, within these few dayes made me a pleasaunt description of their loue, while he with cheerefull lookes would speake sorowfull words, vsing the phrase of his affection in so high a stile, that Mercurie would not haue wooed Venus with more magnificent Eloquence: but els neyther in behauiour, nor action, accusing in him selfe anie great trouble in minde, whether he sped or no. And she of the other side, well finding howe little it was, and not caring for more, yet taught him, that often it falleth out but a foolishe wittinesse, to speake more then one thinkes.
5
For she made earnest benefite of his iest, forcing him in respect of his promise, to doo her suche service, as were both cumbersome and costly vnto him, while he stil thought he went beyond her, because his harte did not commit the idolatrie. So that lastlie, she (I thinke) hauing in minde to make the fame of her beautie an oratour for her to Amphialus, (perswading her selfe perhaps, that it might fall out in him, as it dothe in some that haue delightfull meate before them, and haue no stomacke to it, before other folkes prayse it) she tooke the advauntage one daye vppon Phalantus vnconscionable praysinges of her, and certaine cast-awaie vowes, howe much he would doo for her sake, to arrest his woord assoone as it was out of his mouth, and by the vertue thereof to charge him to goe with her thorow all the courts of Greece, & with the chalenge now made, to giue her beauty the principality ouer all other. Phalantus was entrapped, and saw round about him, but could not get out. Exceedinglie perplexed he was (as he confest to him that tolde mee the tale) not for doubt hee had of him selfe (for indeede he had litle cause, being accounted, with his Launce especially (whereupon the challenge is to be tryed) as perfect as any that Greece knoweth; but because he feared to offend his sister Helen, and with all (as he said) he could not so much beleeue his loue, but that he might thinke in his hart (whatsoeuer his mouth affirmed) that both she, my daughters, and the faire Parthenia (wife to a most noble Gentleman, my wiues neere kinsman) might far better put in their clayme for that prerogatiue. But his promise had bound him prentice, and therfore it was now better with willingnes to purchase thankes, then with a discontented doing to haue the paine, and not the reward: and therefore went on, as his faith, rather then loue, did lead him.
6
And now hath he already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis, Argos and Corinth: and (as many times it happes) that a good pleader makes a bad cause to preuaile; so hath his Lawnce brought captiues to the triumph of Artesias beauty, such, as though Artesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were to haue the preheminence: for in those courts many knights (that had bene in other far countries) defe[n]ded such as they had seene, and liked in their trauaile: but their defence had bene such; as they had forfayted the picture of their Ladies, to giue a forced false testimonie to Artesias excellencie. And now lastly is he come hether, where he hath leaue to trye his fortune. But I assure you, if I thought it not in dew & true cosideratio[n] an iniurious service & churlish curtesie, to put the danger of so noble a title in the deciding of such a da[n]gerles co[m]bat, I would make yong master Phalantus know, that your eyes can sharpe a blu[n]t Launce, and that age, which my graye haires (onely gotten by the louing care of others) make seeme more then it is, hath not diminished in me the power to protect an vndeniable verity. With that he bustled vp himselfe, as though his harte would faine haue walked abroad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling gaue him outward thanks, desiring him to reserve his force for worthier causes.
CHAP. 16.
1 Phalantus and Artesias pompous entraunce. 2 The pain-
ted muster of an eleuen conquered beauties.So passing their time according to their woont, they wayted for the coming of Phalantus who the next morning hauing alredy caused his tents to be pitched, neere to a faire tree hard by the Lodge, had vppon the tree made a shield to bee hanged vp, which the defendant should strike, that woulde call him to the mainteyning his challendge. The Impresa in the shield; was a heauen full of starres, with a speech signifying, that it was the beauty which gaue it the praise.
Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnatio[n] velvet inriched with purle & pearle, wherein Artesia sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phœbus. Before her marched, two after two, certaine footeme[n] pleasantly attired, who betweene them held one picture after another of them that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of beauty, and at euery pace they stayed, turning the pictures to each side, so leasurely, that with perfect iudgement they might be discerned.
1
The first that came in (folowing the order of the time wherein they had bene wonne) was the picture of Andromana, Queene of Iberia; whom a Laconian Knight hauing sometime (and with speciall fauour) served, (though some yeares since retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte; for indeede she was not co[m]parable to Artesia; not because she was a good deale elder (for time had not yet beene able to impouerish her store thereof) but an exceeding red haire with small eyes, did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assembly of most commendable beauties.
2
Next after her was borne the counterfaite of the princesse of Elis, a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this, that as lyking is, not alwaies the child of beauty, so whatsoeuer liketh; is beautyfull; for in that visage there was nether Maiestic, grace, fauour, nor fairenesse; yet she wanted not a servaunt that woulde haue made her fairer then the faire Artesia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her picture to be as true a witnes of his ouerthrow, as his running was of her beauty.
3
After her was the goodly Artaxia, great Q. of Armenia, a Lady vpon whom nature bestowed, & wel placed her delightful colours; & withal, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly to be discouered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not to make vp that harmony, that Cupid delights in; the reaso[n] wherof might seem a mannish countenance, which ouerthrew that louely sweetnes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre fitter to preuaile by parley, then by battell.
4
Of a farre contrary consideratio[n] was the representation of her that next followed, which was Erona Queene of Licia, who though of so browne a haire, as no man should haue iniuried it to haue called it blacke, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much ouercome the redde (though what was, was very pure) that it came neare to palenes,and that her face was a thought longer then the exacte Symmetrians perhaps would allow; yet loue plaid his part so well, in euerie part, that it caught holde of the iudgement, before it could iudge, making it first loue, & after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine delicacie, which in yeelding, conquered; & with a pitiful looke made one find cause to craue helpe himselfe.
5
After her came two Ladies, of noble, but not of royall birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very faire, and of a fatness rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her brests ouer-familiarly laide open, with a mad countenaunce about her mouth, betweene simpring & smyling, her head bowed somwhat down, seemed to la[n]guish with ouer-much idlenes, with an inviting look cast vpward, disswading with too much perswading, while hope might seem to ouercome desire.
6
7
8
The other (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine daintines of beauty, her face carying in it a sober simplicitie; like one that could do much good, & ment no hurt, her eyes hauing in them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed that prety demurenes which the more one markes, the more one woulde iudge the poore soule apt to beleue; & therfore the more pitie to deceiue her.
Next came the Queene of Laconia, one that seemed borne in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineame[n]ts were neither perfect possessions thereof, nor absent strangers thereto: but she was a Queene, and therefore beautyfull.
But she that followed, conquered indeed with being conquered; & might well haue made all the beholders waite vpo[n] her triumph, while her selfe were led captiue. It was the excelle[n]tly-faire Queene Helen, whose lacinth haire curled by nature, & intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through golde sa[n]ds) had a rope of faire pearles, which now hiding, now hidden by the haire, did as it were play at fast or loose, each with other, mutually giuing & receiuing riches. In her face so much beautie & fauour expressed, as if Helen had not bene knowe, some would rather haue iudged it the painters exercise, to shew what he could do, the cou[n]terfaiting of any liuing patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could haue fou[n]d, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little: but that little was such a sparke of beauty, as was able to enflame a world of loue. For euery thing was full of a choyce finenes, that if it wa[n]ted any thing in maiestic, it supplied it with increase of pleasure; & if at the first it strake not admiration, it rauished with delight. And no indiffere[n]t soule there was, which if it could resist fro[m] subiecting it self to make it his princesse, that would not lo[n]g to haue such a playfelow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (fixt with more sadnes the[n] it seemed nature had bestowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as she vsed those orname[n]ts, not for her self, but to preuaile with another, so she feared, that all would not serve.
9
Of a farre differing (though esteemed equall) beautie, was the faire Parthenia who next wayted on Artesias triumph, though farre better she might haue sitte in the throne. For in her euery thing was goodly, and stately; yet so, that it might seeme that great-mindednes was but the auncient-bearer to humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seem full of her owne beauties, a large, and exceedingly faire forhead, with all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Noblenes; was yet so attired, as might shew, the mistres thought it either not to deserve, or not to need any exquisite decking, hauing no adorning but cleanlines; and so farre from all arte, that it was full of carelesnesse: vnlesse that carelesnesse it selfe (in spite of it selfe) grew artificiall. But Basilius could not abstaine from praising Parthenia, as the perfect picture of a womanly vertue, and wiuely faithfulnes: telling withall Zelmane, how he had vnderstoode, that when in the court of Laconia, her picture (maintained by a certaine Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorow want, rather of valour, then iustice: her husband (the famous Argalus) would in a chafe haue gone and redeemed it with a new triall. But she (more sporting then sorrowing for her vndeserved champion) tolde her husbande, she desired to be beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that she would rather marre her face as euill as euer it was, then that it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Then would Basilius haue tolde Zelmane, that which she alredie knew, of the rare triall of their coupled affection: but the next picture made the mouth giue place to their eyes.
It was of a young mayd, which sate pulling out a thorne out of a Lambs foote, with her looke so attentiue vppon it, as if that little foote coulde haue bene the circle of her thoughts; her apparell so poore, as it had nothing but the inside to adorne it; a shephooke lying by her with a bottle vpon it. But with al that pouertie, beauty plaid the prince, and commanded as many harts as the greatest Queene there did. Her beautie and her estate made her quicklie to be knowne to be the faire shepheardesse, Vrania, whom a rich knight called Lacemon, farre in loue with her, had vnluckely defended.
11
The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being captiue, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus: who at the first sight seemed to haue some resembling of Philoclea, but with more marking (co[m]paring it to the present Philoclea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might see, it was but such a likenesse, as an vnperfect glasse doth giue; aunswerable enough in some feitures, & colors, but erring in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the to[m]bes of their Mistresses, then the triumphe of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (saide Basilius) some of them be dead, and some other captiue: But that hath happened so late, as it may be the Knightes that defended their beauty, knew not so much: without we will say (as in some harts I know it would fall out) that death it selfe could not blot out the image which loue hath engraue in the. But diuers besides these (said Basilius) hath Phalantus woon, but he leaues the rest, carying onely such, who either for greatnes of estate, or of beauty, may iustly glorifie the glory of Artesias triumph.
CHAP. 17.
1 The ouerthrow of fiue Arcadian knights. 2 The young shep-
heards prettie challenge. 3 What passions the sixth knights
foyle bredde in Zelmane. 4 Clitophon hardly ouerma-
tched by Phalantus. 8 The ill arayed, & the black knights
contention for prioritie against Phalantus. 5 The halting
knights complaint against the black knight. 7 Phalantus
fall by the ill furnisht knight. 8 The crosse-parting of Pha-
lantus with Artesia, 9 and who the victor was.Thus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter subiect to
1
speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus in this pompous manner, brought Artesia with her getlewome[n], into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both wayted who would first strike vpon the shielde, while Basilius the Judge appointed sticklers, and trumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till already it had consumed halfe his allowance of light; but then there came in a knight, protesting himselfe as contrarie to him in minde, as he was in apparrell. For Phalantus was all in white, hauing in his bases, and caparison imbroidered a wauing water: at each side whereof he had nettings cast ouer, in which were diuers fishes naturally made, & so pretily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to striue, and leape in the nette.
But the other knight, by name Nestor, by birth an Arcadian, & in affection vowed to the faire Shepherdesse, was all in black, with fire burning both vpo[n] his armour, and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of Juniper, with this word, More easie, and more sweete. But this hote knight was cooled with a fall, which at the third course he receiued of Phalantus, leauing his picture to keepe companie with the other of the same stampe; he going away remedilesly chafing at his rebuke. The next was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia, for deedes he had done in armes: and much spoken of for the honourable loue he had long borne to Gynecia; which Basilius himselfe was content, not onely to suffer, but to be delighted with; he carried it in so honorable and open plainnes, setting to his loue no other marke, then to do her faithfull service. But neither her faire picture, nor his faire running, could warrant him from ouerthrow, and her from becomming as then the last of Artesias victories: a thing Gynecias vertues would little haue recked at another time, nor then, if Zelmane had not seene it. But her champion went away as much discomforted, as discomfited. Then Telamon for Polixena, & Eurimelo for Elpine, and Lean for Zoana; all braue Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going down, lifted vp the ballance of his praise for actiuitie, and hers for fairenes.
2
Vpon whose losse as the beholders were talking, there comes into the place where they ranne, a shepheard stripling (for his height made him more then a boy, & his face would not allow him a ma[n]) brown of co[m]plexio[n] (whether by nature, or by the Suns familiaritie) but very louely withall; for the rest so perfectly proportioned, that Nature shewed, she dooth not like men who slubber vp matters of meane account. And well might his proportion be iudged; for he had nothing vpon him but a paire of sloppes, and vpon his bodie a Gote-skinne, which he cast ouer his shoulder, doing all things with so pretie grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amisse, because he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long staffe, & so coming with a looke ful of amiable fiercenes, as in whom choller could not take away the sweetnes, he came towards the king, and making a reuerence (which in him was comely because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you heare a few words; for my hart wil break if I say not my minde to you. I see here the picture of Vrania, which (I cannot tell how, nor why) these men when they fall downe, they say is not so faire as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may neuer see my olde mother aliue, if I think she be any more match to Vrania, then a Goate is to a fine Lambe; or then the Dog that keepes our flock at home, is like your white Greihounde, that pulled down the Stagge last day.
[ ]And therefore I pray you let me be drest as they be, and my hart giues me, I shall tumble him on the earth for indeede he might aswell say, that a Couslip is as white as a Lillie: or els I care not let him come with his great staffe, and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what I can doo to him. Basilius sawe it was the fine shepheard Lalus, whom once he had afore him in Pastorall sportes, and had greatly delighted in his wit full of prety simplicitie, and therefore laughing at his earnestnesse, he bad him be content, since he sawe the pictures of so great Queenes, were faine to follow their champions fortune. But Lalus (euen weeping ripe) went among the rest, longing to see some bodie that would reuenge Vranias wronge; and praying hartely for euery bodie that ran against Phalantus, then began to feele pouerty, that he could not set him selfe to that triall. But by and by, euen when the Sunne (like a noble harte) began to shew his greatest countenaunce in his lowest estate, there came in a Knight, called Phebilus, a Gentleman of that cou[n]try, for whom hatefull fortune had borrowed the dart of Loue, to make him miserable by the sight of Philoclea. For he had euen from her infancie loued her, and was striken by her, before she was able to knowe what quiuer of arrowes her eyes caried; but he loued and dispaired; and the more he dispaired, the more he loued. He sawe his owne vnworthines, and thereby made her excellencie haue more terrible aspect vpon him: he was so secrete therein, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he euer spake of it, but his hart made such silent complaints within it selfe, that while all his senses were attentiue thereto, cunning iudges might perceaue his minde: so that he was knowne to loue though he denied, or rather was the better knowne, because he denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea couler, his Impresa, the fishe called Sepia, which being in the nette castes a blacke inke about it selfe, that in the darkenesse thereof it may escape: his worde was, Not so. Philocleas picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence was borne in by him. But streight ielousie was a harbinger for disdaine in Zelmanes harte, when she sawe any (but her selfe) should be auowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch that she wisht his shame, till she sawe him shamed: for at the second course he was striken quite from out of the saddle, so full of grief, and rage withall, that he would faine with the sworde haue reuenged it: but that being contrary to the order set downe, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing him selfe in the bottome of the earth, he went his way, leauing Zelmane no lesse angry with his los, the[n] she would haue beene with his victory. For if she thought before a riuals prayse woulde haue angred her, her Ladies disgrace did make her much more forget what she then thought, while that passion raigned so much the more, as she saw a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded truce for those sportes, & Phalantus (though intreated) would not leaue Artesia, who in no case would come into the house, hauing (as it were) suckle of Cecropias breath a mortall mislike against Basilius.
But the night measured by the short ell of sleepe, was soone past ouer, and
4
the next morning had giuen the watchful stars leaue to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his iudges parte: which he did, taking his wife & daughters with him; Zelmane hauing lockt her doore, so as they would not trouble her for that time: for already there was a Knight in the fielde, readie to proue Helen of Corinth had receaued great iniury, both by the erring iudgement of the challenger, and the vnlucky weakenesse of her former defender. The new Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon (Kala[n]ders sonne of Easilius-his sister) by his armour, which al guilt, was so well ha[n]dled, that it shewed like a glittering sande and grauell, interlaced with silver riuers: his deuice he had put in the picture of Helen which hee defended. It was the Ermion, with a speach that signified, Rather dead then spotted. But in that armour since he had parted fro[m] Helen (who would no longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of affection,) he had performed so honourable actio[n]s, (stil seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daipha[n]tus,) that though his face were couered, his being was discouered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him vp in his court) would not seeme to do; but glad to see triall of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commaunded the trumpets to sound; to which the two braue knights obeying, they performed their courses, breaking their six staues, with so good, both skill in the hitting, & grace in the maner, that it bred some difficulty in the iudgement. But Basilius in the ende gaue sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staues vpo[n]the head, & that once Clitophon had receiued such a blowe, that he had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie touching the crooper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the iudgeme[n]t, (wherin he thought he had receiued wro[n]g) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, & vncle; and sodainly went his way, still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking: & so yeelded the field to the next commer.
5
Who comming in about two houres after, was no lesse marked then al the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had neither picture, nor deuice, his armour of as old a fashion (besides the rustic poorenesse,) that it might better seeme a monument of his graundfathe[r]s courage: about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloake of silke, which as vnhandsomely, as it needes must, became the wearer: so that all that lookt on, measured his length on the earth alreadie, since he had to meete one who had bene victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towardes the shielde, and with a sober grace strake it; but as he let his sworde fall vpon it, another Knight, all in blacke came rustling in, who strake the shield almost assoone as he, and so strongly, that he brake the shield in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the beholders called him) angrie with that, (as he accounted,) insolent iniurie to himselfe, hit him such a sound blowe, that they that looked on saide, it well became a rude arme. The other aunswered him againe in the same case, so that Launces were put to silence, the swordes were so busie.
But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, came vpon the blacke Knight, and with the pommell of his sworde set fire to his eyes, which presently was reuenged, not onely by the Blacke, but the ill apparelled Knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrell, so as, who euer sawe a matachin daunce to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, euerie one had adversaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and reuenging perhaps that of him, which he had receaued of the other. But Basilius rising himselfe to parte them, the sticklers authoritie scarslie able to perswade cholerike hearers; and parte them he did.
But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, halting on foote, who complained to Basilius, demaunding iustice on the blacke Knight, for hauing by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, whiche in little forme he ware in a Tablet, and couered with silke had fastened it to his Helmet, purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesias length, not doubting but in that little quantitie, the excellencie of that would shine thorow the weakenesse of the other: as the smallest starre dothe thorow the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight, who had (as he said) robbed him of it. The iniurie seemed grieuous, but when it came fully to be examined, it was found, that the halting Knight meeting the other, asking the cause of his going thetherward, and finding it was to defend Pamelas diuine beautie against Artesias, with a prowde iollitie commaunded him to leaue that quarrell onely for him, who was onely worthy to enter into it. But the blacke Knight obeying no such comandements, they fell to such a bickering, that he gat a halting, & lost his picture. This vnderstood by Basilius, he told him he was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then an others picture: & so (uncomforted therein) sent him away to learn of Æsculapius that he was not fit for Venus.
But then the question arising who should be the former against Phalantus,
5
of the blacke, or the ill apparelled Knight (who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy loute, he had so well defended himselfe) of the one side, was alleged the hauing a picture which the other wanted: of the other side, the first striking the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill apparelled Knight should haue the precedence, if he deliuered the figure of his mistresse to Phalantus; who asking him for it, Certainely (said he) her liueliest picture, (if you could see it) is in my hart, & the best co[m]parison I could make of her, is of the Sunne & of all other the heauenly beauties. But because perhappes all eyes cannot taste the Diuinitie of her beautie, and would rather be dazeled, then taught by the light, if it bee not clowded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I defend that same Ladie, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and in steede of an other (if you ouercome mee) you shall haue me your slaue to carrie that image in your mistresse triumphe. Phalantus easilie agreed to the bargaine, which alreadie he made his owne.
7
But when it came to the triall, the ill apparelled Knight choosing out the greatest staues in all the store, at the first course gaue his head such a remembraunce, that he lost almost his remembraunce, he him selfe receyving the incounter of Phalantus without any extraordinarie motion. And at the seconde gaue him such a counterbuffe, that because Phalantus was so perfite a horseman, as not to be driuen from the saddle, the saddle with broken girthes was driuen from the horse: Phalantus remaining angrie and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had neuer before knowne.
8
But the victorie being by the iudges giuen, and the trumpets witnessed to the ill apparelled Knight; Phalantus disgrace was ingrieued in lieu of comforte by Artesia; who telling him she neuer lookt for other, bad him seeke some other mistresse. He excusing himselfe, and turning ouer the fault to Fortune, Then let that be your ill Fortune too (saide she) that you haue lost me.
Nay truely Madame (saide Phalantus) it shall not be so: for I thinke the losse of such a Mistresse will prooue a great gaine: and so concluded; to the sporte of Basilius, to see young folkes loue, that came in maskt with so great pompe, goe out with so little constancie. But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his curteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whether she desired to goe: vowing in himselfe, that neither hart, nor mouth-loue, should euer any more intangle him. And with that resolution he left the company.
9
Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black knight we[n]t away repyning at his luck, that had kept him fro[m] winning the honor, as he knew he shuld haue don, to the picture of Pamela) the ill apparelled knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to shew him to Zelmane) puld of his Helmet, & then was knowe himselfe to be Zelmane: who that morning (as she told) while the others were busie, had stolne out to the Princes stable, which was a mile of fro[m] the Lodge, had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she should be obeyed) & borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come vpon the spur to redeem Philocleas picture, which she said, she could not beare, (being one of that little wildernesse-company) should be in captiuitie, if the cunning she had learned in her coutrye of the noble Amazons, could withsta[n]d it: & vnder that pretext faine she would haue giue a secret pasport to her affection. But this act painted at one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias, but broght forth no other coutena[n]ces but of admiratio[n], no speches but of com[m]ed[n]atio[n]s: al these few (besides loue) thinking they honoured them selves, in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane: whom dayly they sought with some or other sports to delight, for which purpose Basilius had in a house not farre of, servaunts, who though they came not vncalled, yet at call were redye.
CHAP. 18.
1 Musidorus disguised. 2 His song. 3 His loue, 4 the cause
thereof. 5 His course therein.
And so many daies were spent, and many waies vsed, while Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a good occasio[n] to shoot, & Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest deere from her. But the day being come, which according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to asse[m]ble, & make their pastorall sports afore Basilius: Zelmane (fearing, lest many eyes, and comming diuers waies, might hap to spy Musidorus) went out to warne him thereof.
1
But before she could come to the Arbour, she sawe walking from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparrel who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there. A lo[n]g cloke he had on, but that cast vnder his right arme, wherein he held a shephooke, so finely wrought, that it gaue a brauery to pouerty; & his rayments, though they were meane, yet receiued they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer; though he himselfe went but a kinde of languishing pace, with his eies somewhat cast vp to heauen, as though his fancyes straue to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the ground, as if the earth could not beare the burthens of his sorrowes; at length, with a lame[n]table tune, he songe these fewe verses.
2
Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde:
Yeld outward shew, what inward chance he tryes:
Nor be abasht, since such a guest you finde,
Whose strongest hope in your weake comfort lyes.
Come shepheards weedes, attend my woefull cryes :
Disuse your selves from sweete Menalcas voice:
For other be those tunes which sorrow tyes,
From those cleere notes which freely may reioyce.
Then power out plaint, and in one word say this:
Helples his plaint, who spoyles himselfe of blisse.
And hauing ended, he strake himselfe on the brest; saying, O miserable wretch, whether do thy destenies guide thee? The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to ouertake him: which hauing done, she plainly perceaued that it was her deare friend Musidorus, whereat marvailing not a little, she demaunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had such a powre to trasforme euery body, or whether, as in all enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in this newe alteration.
3
Alas, (said Musidorus) what shall I say, who am loth to say, and yet faine would haue said? I find indeed, that all is but lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now (woe is me) do try what loue can doo. O Zelmane, who will resist it, must either haue no witte, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation? certainely by loue we are made, and to loue we are made. Beasts onely cannot discerne beauty, and let them be in the role of Beasts that doo not honor it. The perfect friendship Zelmane bare him, and the great pitie she (by good triall) had of such cases, coulde not keepe her from smiling at him, remembring how vehemently he had cryed out against the folly of louers. And therefore a litle to punish him, Why how now deere cousin (said she) you that were last day so hie in Pulpit against louers, are you now become so meane an auditor? Remember that loue is a passion; and that a woorthie mans reason must euer haue the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cryed Musidorus,) and withall falling downe prostrate, O thou celestial, or infernal spirit of Loue, or what other heauely or hellish title thou list to haue (for effects of both I finde in my selfe) haue compassion of me, and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in conquering those that were rebellious. No, no saide Zelmane, I see you well enough: you make but an enterlude of my mishaps, and doo but counterfaite thus, to make me see the deformitie of my passions: but take heede, that this iest do not one day turne to earnest. Now I beseech thee (saide Musidorus taking her fast by the hand) euen for the truth of our friendship, of which (if I be not altogether an vnhappy man) thou hast some rememberaunce, & by those sacred flames which (I know) haue likewise neerely touched thee; make no iest of that, which hath so ernestly pearced me thorow, nor let that be light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able to beare it. Musidorus both in words & behauiour, did so liuely deliuer out his inward grief, that Zelmane found indeede, he was thorowly wou[n]ded: but there rose a new ielousy in her minde, lest it might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, in right all hartes and eyes should be inherited. And therefore desirous to be cleered of that doubt, Musidorus shortly (as in hast and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus recounted his case vnto her.
4
The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind to returne to a towne, from whence I came hether, my horse being before tired, would scarce beare me a mile hence: where being benighted, the light of a candle (I saw a good way of) guided me to a young shepheards house, by name Menalcas, who seing me to be a straying stra[n]ger, with the right honest hospitality which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian brests, & though not with curious costlines, yet with cleanly sufficiencie, entertained me: and hauing by talke with him, found the manner of the countrie, something more in particular, then I had by Kalanders report, I agreed to soiourne with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to observe. And so hether to your arbour diuers times repaired: & here by your meanes had the sight (O that it had neuer bene so, nay, O that it might euer be so) of a Goddesse, who in a definite compasse can set forth infinite beauty. All this while Zelmane was racked with iealousie. But he went on, For (saide he) I lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to my selfe, O sweet Pyrocles, how art thou bewitched? where is thy vertue? where is the vse of thy reason? how much am I inferior to thee in the state of the mind ? And yet know I, that all the heauens cannot bring me to such thraldome. Scarcely, thinke I, had I spoken this word, when the Ladies came foorth; at which sight, I thinke the very words returned back again to strike my soule; at least, an vnmeasurable sting I felt in my selfe, that I had spoken such words. At which sight? said Zelmane, not able to beare him any longer. O (sayd Musidorus) I know your suspition; No, no, banish all such feare, it was, it is, and must be Pamela. Then all is safe (sayd Zelmane) proceede, deare Musidorus. I will not (said he) impute it to my late solitarie life (which yet is prone to affections) nor, to the much thinking of you (though that cald the consideratio[n] of loue into my mind, which before I euer neglected) nor to the exaltation of Venus; nor reuenge of Cupid; but euen to her, who is the Planet, nay, the Goddesse, against which, the onely shielde must be my Sepulchre. When I first saw her, I was presently striken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any thing hits him, wil strike himselfe again vpon it) would needs looke againe as though I would perswade mine eyes, that they were deceiued. But alas, well haue I found, that Loue to a yeelding hart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had planted in the grounde of my harte, the deeper still it sanke into it. But what meane I to speake of the causes of my loue, which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the backside of heauen? Let this word suffice, I loue.
And that you may know I doo so, it was I that came in black armour to defende her picture, where I was both prevented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you service, haue now my self most need of succor. But wherupon got you your self this aparrel? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tel you (said Musidorus) though that were one principall matter of my speech; so much am I now master of my owne minde. But thus it happened: being returned to Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while faynting vnder the weight, my courage stird vp my wit to seeke for some releefe, before I yeelded to perish. At last this came into my head, that very euening, that I had to no purpose last vsed my horse and armour. I tolde Menalcas, that I was a Thessalian Gentleman, who by mischaunce hauing killed a great fauorit of the Prince of that cou[n]try, was pursued so cruelly, that in no place, but either by fauour, or corruption, they would obtaine my destruction; and that therefore I was determined (till the fury of my persecutions might be asswaged) to disguise my selfe among the shephards of Arcadia, & (if it were possible) to be one of them that were allowed the Princes presence; Because if the woorst should fall, that I were discouered, yet hauing gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it might happen to moue his hart to protect me. Menalcas (being of an honest dispositio[n]) pittied my case, which my face through my inward torment made credible; and so (I giuing him largely for it) let me haue this rayment, instructing me in all the particularities, touching himselfe, or my selfe, which I desired to know: yet not trusting so much to his constancie, as that I would lay my life, and life of my life, vpon it, I hired him to goe into Thessalia to a friend of mine, & to deliuer him a letter fro[m] me; coniuring him to bring me as speedy an answeere as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whether certaine of my friendes did yet possesse any fauour, whose intercessio[n]s I might vse for my restitution. He willingly tooke my letter, which being well sealed, indeed conteyned other matter. For I wrote to my trustie servant Calodoulus (whom you know) that assoone as he had deliuered the letter, he should keep him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to haue conference with any body, till he knewe my further pleasure: in all other respects that he should vse him as my brother. And thus is Menalcas gone, and I here a poore shepheard; more proud of this estate, the[n] of any kingdom: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one vnto, is the contentme[n]t of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now haue I chosen this day, because (as Menalcas tolde me) the other shepheards are called to make their sports, and hope that you wil with your credite, finde meanes to get me allowed among them. You neede not doubt (answered Zelmane) but that I will be your good mistresse: marrie the best way of dealing must be by Dametas, who since his blunt braine hath perceiued some fauour the Prince dooth beare vnto me (as without doubt the most servile flatterie is lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie; for their ordinarie conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then haue they not witte to learne the right degrees of duetie) is much more serviceable vnto me, then I can finde any cause to wish him. And therefore dispaire not to winne him: for euery present occasion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his sillie mind; onely reuerence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him. O heauen and earth (said Musidorus) to what a passe are our mindes brought, that from the right line of vertue, are wryed to these crooked shifts ? But ô Loue, it is thou that doost it: thou changest name vpo[n] name; thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest our mindes. But in deed thou hast reason, for though the wayes be foule, the iourneys end is most faire and honourable.
CHAP. 19.
1 The meanes of Musidorus his apprentisage vnto Dametas.
2 The preparation and place of the Pastorals. 3 The Lyons
assault on Philoclea, and death by Zelmane. 4 The shee
beares on Pamela, and death by Dorus. 5 The Io Pæan
of Dametas, 6 and his scape from the beare. 7 The victors
praises. 8 Whence those beasts were sent.
No more sweete Musidorus (said Zelmane) of these philosophies; for here
1
comes the very person of Dametas. And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill on his neck, and a chopping-knife vnder his girdle: in which prouided sorte he had euer gone, since the feare Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner sawe her, but with head and armes he laid his reuerence afore her; inough to haue made any man forsweare all courtesie. And then in Basilius name, he did invite her to walke downe to the place, where that day they were to haue the Pastoralles.
But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shepheards allowed in that place, he would faine haue perswaded himselfe to vtter some anger, but that he durste not; yet muttering, and champing, as though his cudde troubled him; he gaue occasion to Musidorus to come neare him, and feine this tale of his owne life: That he was a younger brother of the shepheard Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in his tender age to Athens, there to learne some cunning more then ordinarie, that he might be the better liked of the Prince: and that after his fathers death, his brother Menalcas (latelie gone thether to fetch him home) was also deceased: where (upon his death) he had charged him to seek the service of Dametas, and to be wholy, and euer guyded by him; as one in whose iudgement and integritie, the Prince had singular confidence. For token whereof, he gaue to Dametas a good summe of golde in redy coine, which Menalcas had bequeathed vnto him, vpon condition he should receiue this poore Dorus into his service, that his mind and manner might grow the better by his dayly example. Dametas, that of all manners of stile could best conceiue of golden eloquence, being withall tickled by Musidorus prayses, had his brayne so turned, that he became slaue to that, which he, that shewed to be his servant, offered to giue him: yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish, in respect of the charge he had of the Princesse Pamela. But such was the secrete operation of the golde, helped with the perswasion of the Amazon Zelmane, (who sayde it was pittie so handsome a young man should be any where els, then with so good a master) that in the ende he agreed (if that day he behaued himselfe so to the lyking of Basilius, as he might be co[n]tented) that then he would receiue him into his service.
2
And thus went they to the Lodge, where they fou[n]d Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselves there a while, vntill the shepheards comming: whether also taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired he might be accepted there that day, in steed of his brother Menalcas. As for Basilius, he staied behind to bring the shepherds, with whom he meant to co[n]fer, to breed the better Zelmanes liking (which he onely regarded) while the other beautifull band came to the faire field, appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight; for thorow the middest of it, there ran a sweete brooke, which did both hold the eye open with her azure streams, & yet seeke to close the eie with the purling noise it made vpon the pibble stones it ran ouer: the field it self being set in some places with roses, & in al the rest constantly preserving a florishing greene; the Roses added such a ruddy shew vnto it, as though the field were bashfull at his owne beautie: about it (as if it had bene to inclose a Theater) grew such a sort of trees, as eyther excellency of fruit, statelines of grouth, continuall greennes, or poeticall fancies haue made at any time famous. In most part of which there had bene framed by art such pleasant arbors, that (one tree to tree, answering another) they became a gallery aloft from almost round about, which below gaue a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the cholericke looke of Phœbus.
3
In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carying many vnquiet co[n]tentions about her, the Ladies sate them downe, inquiring many questio[n]s of the shepheard Dorus; who (keeping his eie still vpon Pamela) answered with such a trembling voice, & abashed cou[n]tenance, & oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies, thinking it want of education, which made him so discountenaunced with vnwoonted presence. But Zelmane that saw in him the glasse of her owne miserie, taking the hande of Philoclea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stande there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these wordes. O Loue, since thou art so changeable in mens estates, how art thou so consta[n]t in their torments? when sodainly there came out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Beare not far from him, of litle lesse fiercenes, which (as they ghest) hauing bene hu[n]ted in Forests far of, were by chau[n]ce come thether, where before such beastes had neuer bene seene. Then care, not feare; or feare, not for themselves, altered some thing the cou[n]tenances of the two Louers, but so, as any man might perceiue, was rather an assembling of powers, then dismaiednes of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Lio[n], but that obeying the com[m]andement of feare, she lept vp, & ran to the lodge-ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carrie her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the Partridge, on which the Hawke is eue[n] ready to seaze. But the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, & was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when Zelmane (to whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the co[m]positions of her elemets being nothing but fierie) with swiftnesse of desire crost him, and with force of affection strake him such a blow vpon his chine, that she opened al his body: wherwith the valiant beast turning vpo[n]her with open iawes, she gaue him such a thrust thorow his brest, that al the Lio[n] could do, was with his paw to teare of the mantle and sleeue of Zelmane, with a little scratch, rather then a wound; his death-blow hauing take away the effect of his force. But there withall he fell downe, & gaue Zelmane leasure to take of his head, to carrie it for a present to her Ladie Philoclea: who all this while (not knowing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like Arethusa when she ran from Alpheus; her light apparell being carried vp with the winde, that much of those beauties she would at another time haue willingly hidden, was present to the sight of the twise wounded Zelmane. Which made Zelmane not folow her ouer hastily, lest she should too soone depriue her selfe of that pleasure: But carying the Lions head in her hand, did not fully ouertake her, till they came to the presence of Basilius. Nether were they lo[n]g there, but that Gynecia came thether also: who had bene in such a traunce of musing, that Zelmane was fighting with the Lion, before she knew of any Lions coming: but then affection resisting, and the soone ending of the fight preuenting all extremitie of feare, she marked Zelmanes fighting. And when the Lions head was of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea so she could not find in her hart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight, Fortune had prepared to those woods, to see these great personages thus runne one after the other: each carried forward with an inwarde violence: Philoclea with such feare, that she thought she was still in the Lions mouth: Zelmane with an eager and impatient delight, Gynecia with wings of Loue, flying they neither knew, nor cared to know whether. But now, being all come before Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare hauing such possessio[n] in the faire Philoclea, that her bloud durst not yet to come to her face, to take away the name of palenesse from her most pure whitenes, Zelmane kneeled down, and presented the Lions head vnto her. Only Ladie (said she) here see you the punishment of that vnnatural beast, which co[n]trary to her owne kind wold haue wronged Princes bloud, guided with such traiterous eies, as durst rebell against your beauty. Happy am I, and my beautie both (answered the sweete Philoclea then blushing, for feare had bequeathed his roome to his kinsman bashfulnes) that you excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners. And euen thankes to that beautie (answered Zelmane) which can giue an edge to the bluntest swordes? There Philoclea told her father, how it had hapned: but as she had turned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane, she perceiued some bloud vpo[n] Zelmanes shoulder, so that starting with the louely grace of pitty, she shewed it to her Father and mother: who, as the nurse sometimes with ouer-much kissing may forget to giue the babe sucke, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and praysing Zelmane, left of to marke whether she needed succour. But then they ran both vnto her, like a father and mother to an onely childe, and (though Zelmane assured them, it was nothing) would needes see it; Gynecia hauing skill in surgery, an arte in those daies much esteemed, because it served to vertuous courage, which eue[n] Ladies would (eue[n] with the conte[m]pt of courage) seeme to cherish. But looking vpon it (which gaue more inward bleeding wou[n]ds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feele Philocleas touch, whiles she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no great importance: yet applied she a pretious baulme vnto it, of power to heale a greater griefe.
4
But euen then, & not before, they reme[m]bred Pamela, therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running back to be satisfied, whe[n] they might all see Pamela coming between Dorus & Dametas, hauing in her ha[n]d the paw of a Beare, which the shepheard Dorus had newly presented vnto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserved death for her presumption, yet was her will to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dametas for his part came piping and dauncing, the meriest man in a parish. But whe[n] he came so neere, as he might be heard of Basilius, he would needs breake thorow his eares with this ioyfull song of their good successe.
5
NOw thanked be the great God Pan,
which thus preserves my loued life:
Thanked lie I that keepe a man,
who ended hath this fearefull strife:
For if my man must praises haue,
what then must I that keepe the knaue?
For as the Moone the eies doth please,
with gentle beames not hurting sight:
Yet hath sir Sunne the greatest praise,
because from him doth come her light:
So if my man must praises haue,
what then must I that keepe the knaue?
Being al now come together, & all desirous to know each others
4
adve[n]tures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully make knowne the valia[n]t mean of her safety: which (directing her speach to her mother) she did in this ma[n]ner. As soone (said she) as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in safetie, there came out of the same woods a foule horrible Beare, which (fearing belike to deale while the Lion was present, as soone as he was gone) came furiously towardes the place where I was, and this young shepheard left alone by me; I truly (not guilty of any wisedome, which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but eue[n] pure feare bringing forth that effect of wisedome) fell downe flat of my face, needing not cou[n]terfait being dead, for indeed I was litle better. But this shepheard hauing no other weapon, but that knife you see, standing before the place where I lay, so behaued him selfe, that the first sight I had (when I thought my selfe nearer Charons ferry,) was the shepheard shewing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray you (saide Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was carefull to haue manifested) in what sorte, so ill weaponed, could you atchiue this enterprise? Noble Ladie (saide Dorus) the manner of these beastes fighting with any man, is to stande vp vpon their hinder feete: and so this did, & being ready to giue me a shrewd imbracement, I thinke, the God Pan, (euer carefull of the chiefe blessings of Arcadia) guided my hand so iust to the hart of the beast, that neither she could once touch me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy reme[m]bra[n]ce) breed any da[n]ger to the Princesse. For my part, I am rather (withall subiected humblenes) to thanke her excellencies, since the duety thereunto gaue me harte to saue my selfe, then to receiue thankes for a deede, which was her onely inspiring. And this Dorus spake, keeping affection as much as he could, backe from coming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discerne it, and therefore to keepe him the longer in speach, desired to vnderstand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest Dametas was escaped.
6
Nay (said Pamela) none shall take that office from my selfe, being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And with that word (scorne borrowing the countenance of myrth) somewhat she smiled, and thus spake on? When (said she) Dorus made me assuredly perceiue, that all cause of feare was passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to finde my selfe alone with this shepheard: and therefore looking about me, if I could see any bodie; at length we both perceiued the gentle Dametas, lying with his breast and head as farre as he could thrust himselfe into a bush: drawing vp his legges as close vnto him as hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kind nature, soone to take pittie of himselfe, he was full resolved not to see his owne death. And when this shepheard pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheere; it was a good while, ere we could perswade him, that Dorus was not the beare: so that he was faine to pull him out by the heeles, & shew him the beast, as deade as he could wish it: which you may beleeue me, was a very ioyful sight vnto him. But then he forgate al curtesie, for he fel vpon the beast, giuing it many a manfull wound: swearing by much, it was not wel such beasts shuld be suffered in a com[m]o[n]welth. And then my gouernour, as full of ioy, as before of feare, came dauncing and singing before vs as euen now you saw him. Well wel (said Basilius) I haue not chosen Dametas for his fighting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainenesse and honestie and therein I know he will not deceaue me.
7
But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderfull act Zelmane had perfourmed, which Gynecia likewise spake [of], both in such extremitie of praising, as was easie to be seene, the constructions of their speach might best be made by the Grammer rules of affection. Basilius told with what a gallant grace shee ranne with the Lyons head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoiles of Gorgon. Gynecia sware, shee sawe the face of the young Hercules killing the Nemean Lion, & all with a grateful assent confirmed the same praises: onely poore Dorus (though of equall desert, yet not proceeding of equall estate) should haue bene left forgotten, had not Zelmane againe with great admiration, begun to speake of him; asking, whether it were the fashion or no, in Arcadia, that sheepherds should performe such valorous enterprises. This Basilius (hauing the quicke sense of a louer) tooke, as though his Mistres had giuen a secret reprehension, that he had not shewed more gratefulnesse to Dorus; and therefore (as nymblie as he could) enquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards: among the rest, offering to him, if he would exercise his courage in souldierie, he would commit some charge vnto him vnder his Lieutenant Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition clymed by another stayre) hauing first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepheard Menalcas; who among other, was wont to resort to the Princes presence, & excused his going to souldierie, by the vnaptnesse he found in himselfe that way: he told Basilius, that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve Dametas; and therefore (for due obedience thereunto) he would thinke his service greatly rewarded, if he might obtaine by that meane to liue in the sight of his Prince, and yet practise his owne chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dametas to receiue him like a sonne into his house: saying, that his valour, and Dametas truth would be good bulwarkes against such mischiefes, as (he slicked not to say) were threatned to his daughter Pamela.
2
Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had bene said (because he had no worse to fal into then his owne) accepted Dorus: and with all, telling Basilius, that some of the shepheards were come; demaunded in what place he would see their sports: who first curious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmanes hurt to rest, then sit vp at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to haue Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should be at the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being (according to the auncient manner) he made Zelmane sit betweene him & his wife therin, who thought her selfe betweene drowning and burning: and the two young Ladies of either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and eares to bee delighted by the shepheards.
8
But before al of them were assembled to begin their sports, there came a fellow, who being out of breath (or seeming so to be for haste) with humble hastines told Basilius, that his Mistres, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beastes ranging in that dagerous sort, being happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himself able to rule them, had caried them abroad, & so was deceiued: whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was readie to deliuer. Basilius made no other answere, but that his Mistres if shee had any more such beastes, should cause them to be killed: and then he told his wife & Zelmane of it, because they should not feare those woods; as though they harbored such beasts, where the like had neuer bene seene. But Gynecia tooke a further conceit of it, mistrusting Cecropia, because shee had heard much of the diuellish wickednesse of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring vp her sonne Amphialus (being brothers sonne to Basilius) to aspire to the crowne, as next heire male after Basilius; and therefore saw no reason, but that she might coniecture, it proceeded rather of some mischieuous practise, than of misfortune. Yet did she onely vtter her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, shee would attend a further occasion, least ouer much haste might seeme to proceede of the ordinarie mislike betweene sisters in Lawe: onely they marvelled, that Basilius looked no further into it; who (good man) thought so much of his late conceiued common wealth, that all other matters were but digressions vnto him. But the shepheards were ready, and with wel handling themselves, called their senses to attend their pastimes.
The first Eclogues
B A S I L I V S, because Zelmane so would haue it, vsed the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sports their inve[n]tions could minister. And yet because many more shepheards were newly come, then at the first; he did in a gentle manner chastise the cowardise of the fugitiue shepheards: with making them (for that night) the Torch-bearers, and the others later come, he willed with all freedome of speech and behauiour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdained (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his servant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of the[m]; & himselfe stood like a directer ouer the[m], with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping shewing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not vnderstand. The first sports the shepheards shewed, were full of such leapes & gambols, as being accorded to the Pipe (which they bare in their mouthes, euen as they daunced) made a right picture of their chiefe god Pan, and his companions the Satyres. Then would they cast away their Pipes; and holding hand in hand, daunce as it were in a braule, by the onely cadence of their voices, which they would vse in singing some short coplets, whereto the one halfe beginning, the other halfe should answere. As the one halfe saying,
We loue, and haue our loues rewarded.
The others would aunswere.
We loue, and are no whit regarded.
The first againe.
We finde most sweete affections snare,
With like tune it should be as in quire sent back againe.
That sweete, but sower despairefull care.
A third time likewise thus:
Who can despaire, whom hope doth beare ?
The aunswere.
And who can hope, that feeles despaire?
Then all ioyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such words:
As without breath, no pipe doth moue,
No musike kindly without loue.Hauing thus varied both their songs and daunces into diuers sorts of inventions; their last sport was one of them to prouoke another to a more large expressing of his passions: which Lalus (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) hauing marked in Dorus dauncing, no lesse good grace & hansome behauiour, then extreame tokens of a trauelled minde; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the vnderwritten sort.
Lalus and Dorus.
COme Dorus, come, let songs thy sorowes signifie:
And if for want of vse thy minde ashamed is,
That verie shame with Loues high title dignifie.
No stile is held for base, where Loue well named is:
Ech eare suckes vp the words, a true loue scattereth,
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase, better framed is.
Dorus.
Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth:
The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be,
Deadly wounds inward bleed, ech sleight sore mattereth.
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away;
Nor true loue loues those loues with others mingled be.
Lalus
If thou wilt not be scene, thy face goe hide away, .
Be none of vs, or els maintaine our fashion:
Who frownes at others feastes, dooth better bide away,
But if thou hast a Loue, in that Loues passion,
I challenge thee by shew of her perfection,
Which of vs two deserveth most compassion.
Dorus.
Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.
No, though the heau'ns for high attempts haue blamed me,
Yet high is my attempt, O Muse historifie
Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me.
Lalus.
Muse hold your peace: but thou, my God Pan, glorifie
My Kalas giftes: who with all good gifts filled is.
Thy pipe, ô Pan, shall helpe, though I sing sorilie.
A heape of sweetes she is, where nothing spilled is;
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of home is:
A Lillie field, with plowe of Rose which tilled is.
Milde as a Lambe, more daintie then a Conie is:
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conversation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is.
What coye account she makes of estimation?
How nice to touch[,] how all her speeches peized be ?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.
Dorus.
Such Kala is: but ah, my fancies raysed be
In one, whose name to name were high presumption,
Since vertues all, to make her title, pleased be.
O happie Gods, which by inward assumption
Enioy her soule, in bodies faire possession,
And keep it ioynde, fearing your seates consumption.
How oft with raine of teares skies make confession,
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heau'nly throne to her heau'n vse digression?
Of best things then what world can yeeld confection
To liken her? Decke yours with your comparison:
She is her selfe, of best things the collection.
Lalus.
How oft my dolefull Sire cried to me, tarrie sonne
When first he spied my loue ? how oft he said to me,
Thou art no souldier fitte for Cupids garrison?
My sonne, keepe this, that my long toyle hath laide to me:
Loue well thine owne: me thinkes, woolles whitenes passeth all,
I neuer found long loue such wealth hath paide to me.
This winde he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes, I then assure my selfe,
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.
Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?
Dorus.
How oft, when reason saw, loue of her harnised
With armour of my hart, he cried, O vanitie,
To set a pearle in steele so meanely varnished ?
Looke to thy selfe; reach not beyond humanitie:
Her minde, beames, state farre from thy weake wings banished:
And Loue, which louer hurts is inhumanitie.
Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such obiection
Seemde but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished.
Her peereles height my minde to high erection
Drawes vp; and if hope-fayling ende liues pleasure,
Of fayrer death how can I make election?
Lalus.
Once my well-waiting eyes espied my treasure,
With sleeues turnde vp, loose haire, and brest enlarged,
Her fathers corne (mouing her faire limmes) measure.
O cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seede of woes my hart brimme-full is charged.
Thy father bids thee saue, and chides for spilling.
Saue then my soule, spill not my thoughts well heaped,
No louely praise was euer got by killing.
These bolde words she did heare, this fruite I reaped,
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed,
Did smile on me, and then away she leaped.
Dorus.
Once, ô sweete once, I saw with dread oppressed
Her whom I dread; so that with prostrate lying
Her length the earth in Loues chiefe clothing dressed.
I saw that riches fall, and fell a crying;
Let not dead earth enioy so deare a couer,
But deck therewith my soule for your sake dying.
Lay all your feare vpon your fearefull louer:
Shine eyes on me, that both our liues be guarded;
So I your sight, you shall your selves recouer.
I cried, and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledde, summond by cruell honor,
Honor, the cause, desart is not regarded.
Lalus.
This mayde, thus made for ioyes, ô Pan bemone her,
That without loue she spends her yeares of loue:
So faire a fielde would well become an owner.
And if enchantment can a harde hart moue,
Teach me what circle may acquaint her sprite,
Affections charmes in my behalfe to proue.
The circle is my (round about her) sight:
The power I will invoke dwelles in her eyes:
My charme should be, she haunt me day and night.
Dorus.
Farre other care, ô Muse, my sorrow tries,
Bent to such one, in whom, my selfe must say,
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.
What circle then in so rare force beares swaye?
Whose sprite all sprites can spoile, raise, damne, or saue:
No charme holdes her, but well possesse she may;
Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slaue:
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thralles like them that inward bondage haue.
Lalus.
Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte:
Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heire of many hundred sheep
Doth beauties keep, which neuer Sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne: fairenes serves oft to wealth.
Yet all my health I place in your good-will.
Which if you, will (& doo) bestow on me,
Such as you see, such still you shall me finde.
Constant and kind: my sheep your foode shall breed,
Their wooll your weede, I will you Musique yeeld
In flowrie fielde; and as the day begins
With twenty ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as Nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meet of mirtle bowes,
Then Loue allowes, our pleasures to enrich,
The thought of which doth passe all worldly pelfe.
Dorus.
Lady your selfe, whom nether name I dare,
And titles are but spots to such a worthe,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my minde.
The noblest kinde reiects not others woes.
I haue no shewes of wealth: my wealth is you,
My beauties hewe your beames, my health your deeds;
My minde for weeds your vertues liuerie weares.
My foode is teares; my tunes waymenting yeeld:
Despaire my fielde; the flowers spirits warrs :
My day newe cares; my ginnes my daily sight,
In which do light small birds of thoughts orethrowne:
My pastimes none: time passeth on my fall:
Nature made all, but me of dolours made:
I finde no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne:
No place to turne; without, within it fryes :
Nor helpe by life or death who liuing dyes.
Lalus.
But if my Kala this my suite denies,
Which so much reason beares,
Let crowes picke out mine eyes, which saw too much:
If still her minde be such,
My earthy moulds will melte in watrie teares.
Dorus.
My earthy moulde doth melte in watrie teares,
And they againe resolue
To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne,
Which doth to ashes burne:
So doth my life within it selfe dissolue.
Lalus
So doth my life within it selfe dissolue, .
That I am like a flower
New plucked from the place where it did breed,
Life showing, dead indeed:
Such force hath Loue aboue poore Natures power.
Dorus.
Such force hath Loue aboue poore Natures power,
That I growe like a shade,
Which being nought seems somewhat to the eyen,
While that one body shine.
Oh he is mard that is for others made.
Lalus.
Oh he is mard that is for others made.
Which thought doth marre my piping declaration,
Thinking how it hath mard my shepheards trade.
Now my hoarse voice doth faile this occupation,
And others long to tell their loues condition :
Of singing take to thee the reputation.
Dorus.
Of singing take to thee the reputation
New friend of mine; I yeeld to thy habilitie:
My soule doth seeke another estimation.
But ah my Muse would thou hadst agilitie,
To worke my Goddesse so by thy invention,
On me to cast those eyes, where shine nobilitie.
Seen, and vnknowne; heard, but without attention.THis Eclogue betwixt Lalus & Dorus, of euery one of the beholders receiued great commendations. When Basilius called to a yong shepheard, who nether had daunced nor song with the[m], but layne al this while vpo[n] the ground at the foot of a cypresse tree, in so deep a melancholy, as though his mind were banished from the place he loued, to be in prison in his body: & desired him he would begin some Eclogue, with some other of the shepheards, according to the accustomed guise: or els declare the discourse of his owne fortune, vnknowne to him; as being a straunger in that cou[n]try. But he praied the King to pardon him, the time being far too ioyful to suffer the rehersall of his miseries. Yet, to satisfy Basilius some way, he sange this songe, he had learned before he had subiected his thoughts to acknowledge no maister, but a mistresse.
AS I my little flocke on Ister banke
(A little flocke; but well my pipe they couthe)
Did piping leade, the Sunne already sanke
Beyond our worlde, and ere I got my boothe.
Each thing with mantle black the night doth scathe;
Sauing the glowe worme, which would curteous be
Of that small light oft watching shepheards see.
The welkin had full niggardly enclosed
In cofer of dimme clowdes his silver groates,
Icleped starres ; each thing to rest disposed:
The caues were full, the mountaines voide of goates :
The birds eyes closde closed their chirping notes.
As for the Nightingale woodmusiques King,
It August was, he daynde not then to sing.
Amid my sheepe, though I sawe nought to feare
Yet (for I nothing sawe) I feared sore;
Then fonde I which thing is a charge to heart
As for my sheepe I dradded mickle more
Then euer for my selfe since I was bore:
I sate me downe: for see to goe ne could,
And sange vnto my sheepe lest stray they should.
The songe I sange old Lanquet had me taught,
Lanquet, the shepheard best swift Ister knewe,
For clerkly reed, and hating what is naught,
For faithfull hart, cleane hands, and mouth as true:
With his sweet skill my skillesse youth he drewe,
To haue a feeling fast of him that sitts
Beyond the heauen, far more beyond your witts.
He said, the Musique best thilke powers pleasd
Was iumpe Concorde betweene our wit and will;
Where highest notes to godlines are raisd,
And lowest sinke not downe to iote of ill:
With old true tales he woont mine eares to fill,
How sheepheards did of yore, how now they thriue,
Spoiling their flock, or while twixt the[m] they striue.
He liked me, but pitied lustfull youth:
His good strong staffe my slippry yeares vpbore:
He still hop'd well, because he loued truth;
Till forste to parte, with harte and eyes euen sore,
To worthy Coriden he gaue me ore.
But thus in okes true shade recounted he
Which now in nights deepe shade sheep heard of me.
Such maner time there was (what time I n'ot)
When all this Earth, this damme or mould of ours
Was onely won'd with such as beastes begot:
Vnknowne as then were they that builded towers:
The cattell wild, or tame, in natures bowers
Might freely rome, or rest, as seemed them:
Man was not man their dwellings in to hem.
The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie:
For nothing can endure where order n'is.
For once the Lion by the Lam.be did lie;
The fearefull Hinde the Leopard did kisse :
Hurtles was Tygers pawe and Serpents hisse.
This thinke I well, the beasts with courage clad
Like Senators a harmeles empire had.
At which whether the others did repine,
(For envie harbreth most in feeblest hartes)
Or that they all to chaunging did encline,
(As euen in beasts their dames leaue chaunging parts)
The multitude to Ioue a suite empartes,
With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking,
Raring, and howling for to haue a King.
A King, in language theirs they said they would:
(For then their language was a perfect speech)
The birdes likewise with chirpes, and puing could
Cackling, and chattring, that of Ioue beseech.
Onely the owle still warnde them not to seech
So hastily that which they would repent:
But sawe they would, and he to deserts went.
Ioue wisely said (for wisedome wisely sayes)
O beasts, take heed what you of me desire.
Rulers will thinke all things made them to please,
And soone forget the swincke due to their hire.
But since you will, part of my heau'nly fire
I will you lende; the rest your selves must giue,
That it both seene and felte may with you liue.
Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite,
Which streight the Earth yclothed in his claye:
The Lion, harte; the Ounce gaue actiue might;
The Horse, good shape; the Sparrow, lust to playe;
Nightingale, voice, entising songes to saye.
Elephant gaue a perfect memorie:
And Paroty ready tongue, that to applie.
The Foxe gaue crafte; the Dog gaue flatterie;
Asse, patience; the Mole, a working thought;
Eagle, high looke; Wolfe secrete crueltie:
Monkie, sweet breath; the Cow, her faire eyes brought;
The Ermion, whitest skinne, spotted with nought;
The sheep, mild-seeming face; climing, the Beare;
The Stagge did giue the harme eschewing feare.
The Hare, her sleights; the Cat, his melancholie;
Ante, Industrie; and Connie, skill to builde;
Cranes, order; Storkes, to be appearing holie;
Camasleon, ease to chaunge; Ducke, ease to yelde;
Crocodile, teares, which might be falsely spilde :
Ape great thing gaue, though he did mowing stand.
The instrument of instruments, the hand.
Ech other beast likewise his present brings:
And (but they drad their Prince they ought should want)
They all consented were to giue him wings:
And aye more awe towards him for to plant,
To their owne worke this priuiledge they graunt,
That from thenceforth to all eternitie,
No beast should freely speake, but onely he.
Thus Man was made; thus Man their Lord became:
Who at. the first, wanting, or hiding pride,
He did to beastes best vse his cunning frame;
With water drinke, herbes meate, and naked hide,
And fellow-like let his dominion slide;
Not in his sayings saying I, but we:
As if he meant his lordship common be.
But when his state so rooted he had found,
That they now skilld not, how from him to wend;
Then gan in guiltlesse earth full many a wound,
Iron to seeke, which gainst it selfe should bend,
To teare the bowels, that good corne should send.
But yet the common Damme none did bemone;
Because (though hurt) they neuer heard her grone.
Then gan the factions in the beastes to breed;
Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beastes,
(As Tygers, leopards, hearts, and Lions seed)
Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes;
Where famine rauine taught their hungrie chestes,
That craftily he first them to do ill,
Which being done he afterwards would kill.
For murthers done, which neuer erst was seene,
By those great beastes, as for the weakers good,
He chose themselves his guarders for to bene,
Gainst those of might, of whom in feare they stood,
As horse and dogge, not great, but gentle blood:
Blith were the commons cattell of the fielde,
Tho when they saw their foen of greatnes kilde.
But they or spent, or made of slender might,
Then quickly did the meaner cattell finde,
The great beames gone, the house on shoulders light:
For by and by the horse faire bitts did binde:
The dogge was in a coller taught his kinde.
As for the gentle birds like case might reiue
When falcon they, and gossehauke saw in mewe.
Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard,
Whom now his owne, full like his owne he vsed.
Yet first but wooll, or fethers off he teard:
And when they were well vs'de to be abused,
For hungrie teeth their flesh with teeth he brused:
At length for glutton taste he did them kill:
At last for sport their sillie liues did spill.
But yet o man, rage not beyond thy neede :
Deeme it no gloire to swell in tyrannie.
Thou art of blood; ioy not to see things bleede :
Thou fearest death; thinke they are loth to die.
A plaint of guiltlesse hurt doth pierce the skie.
And you poore beastes, in patience bide your hell,
Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.
Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sullen houres
To sheepe, whom loue, not knowledge, made to heare,
Now fancies fits, now fortunes balefull stowers:
But then I homewards call'd my lambkins deare:
For to my dimmed eyes beganne t'appeare
The night growne old, her blacke head waxen gray,
Sure shepherds signe, that morne should soone fetch day.ACcording to the nature of diuerse eares, diuerse iudgements straight followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, others the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he shuld meane by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge euer since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him vp ouer-bitterly) tooke hold of this occasion to make his reuenge, and said, He neuer saw thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knew not what beastes at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of loue, or matter for ioyfull melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceipt of young men, who thinke, then they speake wiseliest, when they cannot vnderstand themselves. But little did the melancholike shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there; where he was most despised. And therefore he returning againe to the traine of his desolate pensiuenesse, Geron invited Histor to answere him in Eclogue-wise; who indeed hauing bene long in loue with the faire Kala, and now by Lalus ouergone; was growne into a detestation of marriage. But thus it was.
Geron. Histor.
Geron. IN faith, good Histor, long is your delay,
From holy marriage sweete and surest meane:
Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay.
I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane:
Thou seest, how friske, and iolly now he is,
That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane.
Beleeue me man, then is no greater blisse,
Then is the quiet ioy of louing wife;
Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse.
Friend without change, playfellow without strife,
Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride,
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.
Histor.
No doubt to whom so good chance did betide,
As for to finde a pasture strawed with guide,
He were a foole, if there he did not bide.
Who would not haue a Phœnix if he could?
The humming Waspe, if it had not a stinge,
Before all flies the Waspe accept I would.
But this bad world, few golden fieldes doth bring,
Phoenix but one, of Crowes we millions haue:
The Waspe seemes gay, but is a combrous thing.
If many Kalaes our Arcadia gaue,
Lalus example I would soone ensue,
And thinke, I did my selfe from sorrow saue.
But of such wiues we finde a slender crew;
Shrewdnes so stirres, pride so puffes vp the hart,
They seldome ponder what to them is due.
With meager lookes, as if they still did smart;
Puiling, and whimpring, or else scolding flat,
Make home more paine then following of the cart.
Ether dull silence, or eternall chat;
Still contrarie to what her husband sayes;
If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat.
Austere she is, when he would honest playes;
And gamesome then, when he thinkes on his sheepe;
She bids him goe, and yet from iorney stayes.
She warre doth euer with his kinsfolke keepe,
And makes them fremb'd, who frinds by nature are,
Envying shallow toyes with malice deepe.
And if forsooth there come some new found ware,
The little coine his sweating browes haue got,
Must goe for that, if for her lowres he care:
Or els; Nay faith, mine is the luckiest lot,
That euer fell to honest woman yet:
No wife but I hath such a man, God wot.
Such is their speech, who be of sober wit;
But who doo let their tongues shew well their rage,
Lord, what bywords they speake, what spite they spit?
The house is made a very lothsome cage,
Wherein the birde doth neuer sing but cry ;
With such a will as nothing can asswage.
Dearely the servants doo their wages buy,
ReuiI'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none:
They better liue that in a gaile doo lie.
Let other fowler spots away be blowne;
For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes,
A better life it is to lye alone.
Geron.
Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes
Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing:
No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes.
The heau'ns doo not good haps in handfuls bring,
But let vs pike our good from out much bad:
That still our little world may know his king.
But certainly so long we may be glad,
While that we doo what nature doth require,
And for th''euent we neuer ought be sad.
Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire,
In water dround, in earth his buriall is;
And shall we not therefore their vse desire ?
Nature aboue, all things requireth this,
That we our kind doo labour to maintaine;
Which drawne-out line doth hold all humane blisse.
Thy father iustly may of thee complaine,
If thou doo not repay his deeds for thee,
In granting vnto him a grandsires gaine.
Thy common-wealth may rightly grieued be,
Which must by this immortall be preserved
If thus thou murther thy posteritie.
His very being he hath not deserved,
Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare,
Whereby that being aye must be conserved.
And God forbid, women such cattell were,
As you paint them: but well in you I finde,
No man doth speake aright, who speakes in feare.
Who onely sees the ill is worse then blind.
These fiftie winters maried haue I beene;
And yet finde no such faults in womankind.
I haue a wife worthie to be a Queene,
So well she can command, and yet obay;
In ruling of a house so well shee's seene.
And yet in all this time, betwixt vs tway,
We beare our double yoke with such consent,
That neuer past foule word, I dare well say.
But these be your loue-toyes, which still are spent
In lawlesse games, and loue not as you should,
But with much studie learne late to repent.
How well last day before our Prince you could
Blinde Cupids workes with wonder testifie?
Yet now the roote of him abase you would.
Goe to, goe to, and Cupid now applie
To that where thou thy Cupid maist auowe,
And thou shalt finde, in women vertues lie.
Sweete supple mindes which soone to wisdome bowe
Where they by wisdomes rule directed are,
And are not forst fonde thraldome to allow.
As we to get are framed, so they to spare:
We made for paine, our paines they made to cherish:
We care abroad, and they of home haue care.
O Histor, seeke within thy selfe to flourish:
Thy house by thee must liue, or els be gone:
And then who shall the name of Histor nourish?
Riches of children passe a Princes throne;
Which touch the fathers hart with secret ioy,
When without shame he saith, these be mine owne.
Marrie therefore; for marriage will destroy
Those passions which to youthful head doo clime
Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.ALl the assemblie laught at the lustines of the old fellowe, and easilie perceiued in Histor, he liked Lalus fortune better, then he loued his person. But Basilius to entermixe with these light notes of libertie, some sadder tune, set to the key of his own passion, not seeing there Strephon or Klaius, (who called thence by Vranias letter, were both gone to continue their suite, like two true runners, both employing their best speed, but not one hindring the other) he called to one Lamo[n] of their acquaintance, and willed him to sing some one of their songs; which he redily performed in this doble Sestine.
Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon. YOu Gote-heard Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines,
You Nimphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies,
You Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forrests,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to playning musique,
Which to my woes giues still an early morning:
And drawes the dolor on till wery euening.
Klaius.
O Mercurie, foregoer to the euening,
O heauenlie huntresse of the sauage mountaines,
O louelie starre, entitled of the morning,
While that my voice doth fill these wofull vallies,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which oft hath Echo tir'd in secrete forrests.
Strephon.
I that was once free-burges of the forrests,
Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at euening,
I that was once esteem'd for pleasant musique,
Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines
Of huge despaire, and fault afflictions vallies,
Am growne a shrich-owle to my selfe each morning.
Klaius.
I that was once delighted euery morning,
Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests,
I that was once the musique of these vallies,
So darkened am, that all my day is euening,
Hart-broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines,
And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.
Strephon.
Long since alas, my deadly Swannish musique
Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning,
And hath with wailing stre[n]gth clim'd highest mountaines:
Long since my thoughts more desert be then forrests:
Long since I see my ioyes come to their euening,
And state throwen downe to ouer-troden vallies.
Klaius.
Long since the happie dwellers of these vallies,
Haue praide me leaue my strange exclaiming musique,
Which troubles their dayes worke, and ioyes of euening:
Long since I hate the night, more bate the morning:
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forrests,
And make me wish my selfe layd vnder mountaines.
Strephon.
Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines,
Transforme themselves to lowe deiected vallies;
Me seemes I heare in these ill-changed forrests,
The Nightingales doo learne of Owles their musique:
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an euening.
Klaius.
Me seemes I see a filthie clowdie euening,
As soon as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweete musique,
The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.
Strephon.
I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests;
I giue the Sunne a last farewell each euening;
I curse the fidling finders out of Musicke:
With envie I doo hate the loftie mountaines;
And with despite despise the humble vallies:
I doo detest night, euening, day, and morning.
Klaius.
Curse to my selfe my prayer is, the morning:
My fire is more, then can be made with forrests;
My state more base, then are the basest vallies:
I wish no euenings more to see, each euening;
Shamed I haue my selfe in sight of mountaines,
And stoppe mine eares, lest I growe mad with Musicke.
Strephon.
For she, whose parts maintainde a perfect musique,
Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning,
Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines,
In straightnes past the Cedars of the forrests,
Hath cast me wretch into eternal euening,
By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.
Klaius.
For she, to whom compar'd, the Alpes are vallies,
She, whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique,
At whose approach the Sunne rose in the euening,
Who, where she went, bare in her forhead morning,
Is gone, is gone from these our spoyled forrests,
Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines.
Strephon.
Klaius.
These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies,
These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique,
Our morning hymne is this, and song at euening.ZElmane seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrained conceits had new burst out of prison, she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing but Philocleas eares, laying fast holde on her face with her eyes, she sange these Sapphiques, speaking as it were to her owne Hope.
IF mine eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet.
But if eyes faile then, when I most doo need them,
Or if eyes language be not vnto her knowne,
So that eyes message doo returne reiected,
Hope we doo both dye.
Yet dying, and dead, doo we sing her honour;
So become our tombes monuments of her praise;
So becomes our losse the triumph of her gayne;
Hers be the glory.
If the spheares senselesse doo yet hold a musique,
If the Swannes sweet voice be not heard, but at death,
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,
Yeldeth a lutes tune.
Are then humane mindes priuiledg'd so meanly,
As that hateful death can abridge them of powre,
With the vowe of truth to recorde to all worldes,
That we be her spoiles?
Thus not ending, endes the due praise of her praise;
Fleshly vaile consumes; but a soule hath his life,
Which is helde in loue, loue it is, that hath ioynde
Life to this our soule.
But if eyes can speake to doo harty errande,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we doo liue yet.
WHat exclaiming praises Basilius gaue to Zelmanes songe, any man may ghesse, that knowes loue is better then a paire of spectacles to make euery thing seeme greater, which is seene through it: and then is it neuer tongue-tied, where fit commendation (whereof womankind is so licorous) is offered vnto it. Yea, he fel prostrate on the ground, and thanked the Gods, they had preserved his life so long, as to heare the very musique they themselves vsed, in an earthly body. But the wasting of the torches served as a watch vnto them, to make them see the time waste; and therefore the King (though vnwilling) rose from the seate, which he thought excellently setled on the one side: and considering Zelmanes late hurte, perswaded her to take that farre-spent nights rest. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselves to the elder brother of death.
The end of the first Booke.
the countess of pembroke's arcadia (1590) - book ii
CHAP. I.
The loue-complaintes l of Gynecia, 2 Zelmane, 3 and Ba-
silius. 4 Her, 5 and his wooing of Zelmane, and her
shifting of both, 6 to bemone her selfe.
In these pastorall pastimes a great number of dayes were sent to follow their flying predecessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous worke, till once, that the night (parting away angerly, that she could distill no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no sooner giuen place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vpon the tops of the mountaines, but that the wofull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going vp and downe with such vnquiet motions, as a grieued & hopeles mind is wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudgement the euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them: she felt the terrou[r]s of her owne conscience: she was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortall wound to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her cou[n]tenaunce ghastly about her (as if she had called all the powers of the worlde to witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heauen, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continually keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so lo[n]g embraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? or what hideous thing is this which doth eclips thee? or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence? O imperfect proportio[n] of reason, which ca[n] too much forsee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, & my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolutio[n] to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the winds deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that only I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue me without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answere my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretake[n] co[n]ceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where cast thou find any smal grou[n]d-plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is set vpon: it is my daughter I haue borne to supplant me. But if it be so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngratefull Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there is no co[m]fort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame.
Hauing spoke[n] thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro[m] her)
2 an extremely doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) she drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some co[m]panio[n] of her misery. And as she passed on, she was stopped with a nu[m]ber of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraid she should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which she was so desirous to vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softly as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellently well played vpon, and then the same dolefull voice accompanying it with these verses.
IN vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende
With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight:
Since to my hart her shape you so did sends;
That her I see, though you did lose your light.
In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire.
Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte:
Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte,
That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte.
Then since in vaine I find were all my strife,
To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.
The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthe of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in al sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to a ioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The euill is inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost doth serue but to make me thinke more freely off, and the more I thinke, the more cause I finde of thinking, but lesse of hoping. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since he is not afraide to forsake himselfe.
And thus much spoke[n] (in steed of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not
4 refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowfull musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained confused with a sodaine astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least shee had heard some part of those complaints, which shee had risen vp that morning of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stoode still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe, shee began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow (wherof her heart could not abide the viole[n]t issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hands ouer her face, crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her: and beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, and offring her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, and the torments of her owne conscience: O Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my onely poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredie brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke she shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellent Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfortunate guest) earnest to draw me fro[m] my selfe; blessed had I beene, and no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; and make thee iudge of my cause, who art the onely author of my mischiefe. Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her, Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynecia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.
Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as shee was thinking what to
3 answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: complayning likewise of loue verie freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and voyce.
LEt not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood inflam'de, doth yeeld the brauest fire,
When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend.
Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow,
Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe:
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show,
Which makes all eyes doo honour vnto you.
Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth:
Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
And to old age since you your selfe aspire,
Let not old age disgrace my high desire.
Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, sometimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had said, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gynecia, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to be vsed. If my seruice may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of me. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know ful little, how percing the eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able discerne a greater cloud then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe further from me, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that way thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most louely countenance he could, he came straightway towards them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her she would now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kings commaundement; full of raging agonies, and determinatly bent, that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she would stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then faile of her entent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly an ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sicknesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.
But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues presence, falling downe on his knees, O Lady (said he) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layn deade in me; see in me the power of your beautie; which can make old age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince vnco[n]quered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And whe[n] you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shal neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuere [n]ce to receiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himself that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, & making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.
But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-loued company, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one,
6 but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I would? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most secreat. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Wel, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I haue receiued by you.
CHAP. 2.
1 Dametas-his enstructing of Dorus. 2 Zelmanes discourse
to Dorus of her difficulties; 3 & his to her of his successe in
loue. 4 His loue-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela:
with their answeres.
Bvt t as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieue them, & yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius, then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen, with a goats skin cast vpon him, & a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, & with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of co[m]panie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas hold his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, & swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: & that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vnfeatlie fellowes, then great clearks were.
But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of
2 his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her harte would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill dooth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are paste ouer vs since our laste talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it of) earnestly intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little worlde, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hotte rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a fewe Palme trees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune.
Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throwe vs to such an estate, as the onely entercourse
3 of our true friendshippe, must be a bartring of miseries. For my parte, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde him selfe vtterly ignorant.
But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the seruice I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whom indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songes. For my parte, my harte woulde not suffer me to omitte any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I founde, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) draw foorth such a sworde of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to beholde that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shewe him selfe wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way. Which suspition Miso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeakeable beautie) were very gladde to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no fuller of desire, then voyde of comfort how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speak, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that coulde beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how? with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom witte (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherite her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, euen as foundlinges to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogitatio[n]s haue I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feete began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my harte to reme[m]ber, that nothing is atchieued before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth neuer goe forward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble al my conceites, one after the other; how to manifest both my minde and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will think was a way rather to hide it.
I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed
4 within me, (although to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrations of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I saw my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I coulde gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnesse) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my ouer-throwe; she the sweetnesse of my harte, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpon me. In summe, what soeuer I thought of Pamela, that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse be better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therefore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Whereupon one day determining to find some means to tel (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and songe this songe.
SInce so mine eyes are subiect to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed haue my braine:
Since so my harte is filled with that light,
That onely light doth all my life maintaine;
Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne,
That where you are no wished good can want;
Since so your liuing image liues in me,
That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
How can you him vnworthy then decree,
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?
The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sange, I let fall my harpe fro[m] me; & casting my eie sometime vpon Mopsa, but setting my sight principally vpon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtiful Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune should be measure of his mind? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subiect, and the heauenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet vniting of al beauties, which remaineth & dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that al these are but orname[n]ts of that diuine sparke within you, which being dese[n]ded from heauen could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde of mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towardes me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most com[m]only with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the wordes I could get of her, was, wringing her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her parte) was co[n]tent to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words, in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that harte, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne wherby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, and to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, using this fit occasion of Pameleas wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therfore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene co[n]demned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputatio[n] I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in who so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it self to the best part of my life, as the one can[n]ot depart, but that th'other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tu[m]bled with ouer much kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance the[n] before (finding how apt I was to fall into dispaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfectio[n]s had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be cou[n]ted wisdome, in vs wil be taken for a light-grounded affectio[n]: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great contentme[n]t in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronouced words; & newly, & more viole[n]tly againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speach, with no lesse wel graced silence. But reme[m]bring in my self that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: & seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face wel witnessing how deeply my soule was possessed, & with the most submissiue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, eue[n]as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at le[n]gth spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) & do not then your owne sweet words sufficie[n]tly testifie, that there was neuer ma[n] could haue a iuster actio[n] against filthy fortune, the I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauely God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches haue not already cloied you, & that the verie presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes; let me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vpon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.
CHAP. 3.
Dorus-his tale of his owne 1 education, 2 trauaile, 3 enamoring,
4 meta-morphosing, 5 sauing from sea, 6 and being Musido-
rus. 7 His octaue. 8 Pamelas and Mopsas answere to his suit.
9 His present to them; 10 and perplexitie in himselfe.
In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, who bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sounde? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last dueties, leauing his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the foresight-full care hee had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destinies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heed-full loue of his dolefull mother, and the florishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.
But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I thinke
2 there was a conspiracy in all heauenly & earthly things, to frame fit occasion to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all forraine matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, experience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And here-to did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can be a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit all this togither, was his vncle the king of Macedon; who hauing lately before gotte[n] such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp togither, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; and thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, till Pamela shewing by countenance that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; where at that time his court was. But when the conspired heauens had gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpon so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous windes some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of all his Nauie, he onely with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vnconsiderate rages, why either beganne you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull torments. To tel you what pittiful mishaps fell to the young Prince of Macedon his cosen, I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpon those laborsome adue[n]tures, nor loathsome misaduentures, to which, & through which his fortune and courage conducted him; My speach hastneth it self to come to the ful-point of Musidorus his infortunes. For as we finde the most pestile[n]t diseases do gather into themselues al the infirmitie, with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it self all his former mischiefes.
Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouerthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I
3 say it is) the charmed circle, where all his spirits for euer should be enchaunted. For here (and no where els) did his infected eyes make his minde know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it downe to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleeue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they ca[n] be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such was as then the state of the King, as it was no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such was the state of his captiued wil, as he could delay no time of seeking her.
In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards weede, that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at
4 lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes with that, which should at length eate vp his hart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alwayes to be reiected, since vnder that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might with taking on a shepherds look cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine need no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to help, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therfore, most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue said enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befall to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne workemanship.
Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge that he ment himselfe, who
5 spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? she hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much deceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historic) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ô blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can neuer hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue neither heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, whe[n] he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therfore that Plangus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where he was taken vp by a couple of shepheards, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet remained constant friends; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Mantinea, whose sonne had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by another name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I merit; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.
And therfore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who
6 knew not of anies taking vp againe: that he that was so preserued, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie: which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, he must needes be one of them, although (as I said) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he could neuer defend with lesse the[n] a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that she may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thessalia, secretely to be aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with this Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled countenance, not accusing any kind of inwarde motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withal, to shew what kind of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.
MY sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue:
7 Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I waile their Iotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue,
In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.
And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her hart of that steely resistace against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular orname[n]t; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that she woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.
8 Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecling what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and acttion, as might shewe she spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide she) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully prooue himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and heire, I know no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) she were euen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, she would keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the highe way of matrimony, she would steppe neuer a foote further, till my maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no she would not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, she threwe such a prospect vpon me, as might well haue giuen a surfet to any weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because she was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a ful knowledge, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.
9 Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a iewell, made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable vnto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (sayd I) as the earth was turned vp, the plow-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, & so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.
Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Princesse I could finde no apprehension of
10 what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs) which kind of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestic, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned me, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heauen; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if she hated me, yet I should know what passion to deale with; and either with infinitenes of desert I would take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I would giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one maner; all her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties; euer keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spare or stoppe his horses. This (I say) heauenlines of hers, (for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannic of despaire, not knowing any way of perswasio[n], where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on a certaine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparell I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dametas got one by friendship out of the Princes stable. But how soeuer I show, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.
CHAP. 4.
1 Basilius his hauking. 2 Gynecias hurte by Dametas ouer-
turning her coache. 3 Her ielousie ouer Zelmane. Philo-
cleas 4 loue-passions, 5 vowe of chastitie, 6 reuocation;
7 lamentation.
Bvt as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, & counting vpon his fingers, how
1 many loade of hay his seuenteen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (said Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may wel find you haue beate your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may wel make your sorrow stro[n]ger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas, I shall grow (said she) skilfull in country matters, if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue wel enough, if he ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will beare away that he heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find she might haue spe[n]t her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne ouerall the art of husbandrie: especially imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gynecia, who atte[n]ded for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch wherof though it were barred by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though put in an iuorie boxe, will thorow the boxe send forth his imbraced vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Philoclea. But Dametas, euen then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to be doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, draue the coach (the couer whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered & open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lords, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, would beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Faulcons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp on his wagling winges with paine, till he was come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth were not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) was now growen to diminish the sight of himself, & to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should show: whe[n] a ierfaulcon was cast of after her, who streight spying where the pray was, fixing her eie with desire, & guiding her wing by her eie, vsed no more stre[n]gth then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower will not make his stayre vpright, but winding almost the ful co[m]passe about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so she, seing the towring of her pursued chase, went circkling, & co[m]passing about, rising so with the lesse sence of rising; & yet finding that way scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious body wil go far out of the direct way, to win to a point of height which he desires; so would she (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, & flie quite out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitche; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since flight would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouerpartiall beholders.
2 Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a vine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane & Gynecia sat, yet for Zelmanes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that she feared she might receaue some hurt. But indeede neither she did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinct; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a feuer with him) draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.
3 But neither was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie she conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time of her sicknesse might giue apt occasion to Zelmane whom she misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commaunded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speake, and she lie with her sister Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kepte Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torche-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions bare a minde, which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne till now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.
4 The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of well doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cuningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet & simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to be altered, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaued nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; which fro[m] the tender youth had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing out of her own wil the fore-chosing of any thing) whe[n] now she came to appoint, wherin her iudgeme[n]t was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first toke[n]s, she was like a yong faune, who coming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to be eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while liued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heed-full attention; her coming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conuersatio[n]; her wit & behauiour, a liking & silent admiration; at length the excellency of her natural gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person the only two ba[n]ds of good will, louelines & louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most frie[n]dly affectio[n]; which when it had gotten so ful possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message fro[m] her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; the[n] streight grew an exceeding delight stil to be with her, with an vn-measurable liking of al that Zelmane did: maters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-wil, now good-wil became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. The followed that most natural effect of co[n]forming ones self to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all thinges, but to ground an imitation vpon so much an esteemed authentic: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into herselfe, as a patterne of worthy proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it self (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; & as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to bee mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; whe[n] Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes la[n]guishing cou[n]tenace with crost armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenace: til at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the band, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in co[n]tinuace did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, hauing more the[n] ordinarie limits, & therfore shee was content to second Zelmane, though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues togither, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. The[n] would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a natural band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night beganne to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day, whereout making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld of his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitenesse ascended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent, so) greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous her mother was, the more she thought the iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so far, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were utter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood ; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set togither, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banish all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phœbus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.
5 But the principall cause that inuited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Silvan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.
YOu liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine
Of growing trees; you rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine;
My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.
Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempred hart; by thee my promise sent
Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know.
No fancy mine, nor others wronge suspect
Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.
O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye,
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.
But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare
6 testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes togither, as they might seeme a little chappell: and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.
MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde,
This marble chase, as of like temper knowne:
But loe, my words defaste, my fancies blinde,
Blots to the stone, shame to my selfe I finde:
And witnesse am, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand with constant marble stone.
My words full weake, the marble full of might;
My words in store, the marble all alone;
My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white
My words vnseene, the marble still in sight,
May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand, with constant marble stone.
But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as the this recantation to the former vow, (laying all her faire length vnder
7 one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My pare[n]ts (said she) haue told me, that in these faire heauenly bodies, there are great hidde[n] deities, which haue their working in the ebbing & flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, & if I haue with wicked inte[n]t made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my harte fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name bee made odious to womankind. But if extreame and vnresistable violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you cannot helpe me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enioying; but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a grou[n]d which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wittes to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler sette such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for me ? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelmane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I think impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very grounde whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me; for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.
CHAP. 5.
1 The bedfellow communication of Philoclea and Pamela. 2 Pamelas
narration of her shepheardes making loue, 3 of Dorus and
Dametas horsemanshippe, 4 of his hote pursuite, and her colde
acceptance. 5 His letter. 6 Her relenting, 7 and Philocleas
sole complaint.
In this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she haue rauingly remained, but that
1 Dametas and Miso (who were rounde about to seeke her, vnderstanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his parte, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foote, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she woulde giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, & looking vpon a wax-ca[n]dle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronk vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorowes) she earnestlie intreated to knowe the cause thereof, that either she might comforte, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had perceiued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our cou[n]trey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sadde Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnwoorthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? These wordes wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talke better as they lay together, they impouerished their cloathes to inriche their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refreshe himselfe betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtain, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: & tell me whether you did euer see any thing so ameded as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excelle[n]cies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: onely I marvaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to vse the goade, & when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardma[n], though he prete[n]ded to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constantnes of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could haue thoght those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke vertue itself is no armour of proofe against affection. Therfore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheeres come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away.
But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her Loue, went away a maine withall, telling her how his noble
2 qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, & so held continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, & euer kept from it (as wel because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, & saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shal know my teares come not, neither of repe[n]tance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? euen the Prince Musidorus, famous ouer all Asia, for his heroical enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me deare sister (for the gods are my witnesses I desire to doo vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far exceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow belief? That co[n]sideratio[n] did not want in me, for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground belief. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assuraunce: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of comon sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poor soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea & detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth him selfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.
A few daies since, he & Dametas had furnished theselues very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it
3 was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he presented him selfe before me on horseback, making maiestic wait vpon humblenes? how at the first, standing stil with his eies bent vpo[n] me, as though his motio[n]s were chained to my looke, he so staide till I caused Mopsa bid him doo something vpon his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of viole[n]ce) you might see him come towards me, beating the grou[n]d in so due time, as no daunce can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, whe[n] the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Ce[n]taurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legges: and in effect so did he command him, as his owne limmes, for though he had both spurres and wande, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hand and legge (with most pleasing grace) comma[n]ding without threatning, & rather reme[m]bring then chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stolen, as neyther our eyes could discerne it, nor the horse with any chaunce did co[m]plaine of it, he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hand somthing gently stir, but indeed so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him self (which me thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines & nimblenes; somtimes making him turne close to the grou[n]d, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bound ouer the hillocks: and all so done, as neither the lustie kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, euer concluding ech thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if thence came not onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sporte was to see Dametas, how he was tost from the sadle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before he had euer said, he wanted but horse & apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was fayne alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanish eyes could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the[n] descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the point fall, and taking the ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were diuers motions) they did so stealingly slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eye could discerne the former was ended. Indeed Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleernes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull.
But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to
4
doo him any comfort. But how much more I found reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of mind to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, as some Physitions haue tolde me, that when one is cold outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truly the colde ashes layed vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eyes, turned backe to drowne my harte. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eyes (being his diligent intelligencers) coulde carrie vnto him no other newes, but discomfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexteritie?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bene brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. Thinke (sweet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truely, my Paris was a Paris, and more then a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, and legges, he made loue to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenance, and true teares, that he felte the parte he playde. Tell me (sweet Philoclea) did you euer see such a shepheard? tell me, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered me. Truely I would hate my life, if I thought vanitie led me. But since my parents deale so cruelly with me, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my lookes bene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruitles trials, haue wrought such change in him, as I tell you true (with that worde she laid her hand vpon her quaking side) I doo not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drewe she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to daie (with an afflicted humblenesse) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.
MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that had, where to al blessednes is in nature a serua[n]t, do not yet disdain to cary
5 with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraid to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shal that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to most hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vpo[n] you, your blacknes wil shine: crie out boldly my Lametatio[n]; for while she reads you, your cries wil be musicke. Say then (O happy messenger of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eyes and voice doo exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fit, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudgement: O you, the onely, the onely honour to women, to men the onely admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue placed me, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how meane so euer it be) it is reaso[n] you haue an account of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased ? But he dyeth: it is most true, he dyeth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dyes, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinyed Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it suffiseth her wisedome to know, that her heauenly will shalbe accomplished.
O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these words? and are these words lightly to be regarded? But if you had
6 seene, when with trembling hand he had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eyes; but both times the former resolution stopt the entrie of it: so that he departed without obtaining any further kindnesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindly; and truely the feare of him euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to stitch vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with self-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.
Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeed the onely subiect of the destinies
5 displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfortunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because she would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow from pittie, mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: onely I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.
CHAP. 6.
1 The Ladies vprising, 2 and interrogatories to Dorus con-
cerning Pyrocles and Euarchus. 3 His historiologie of E-
uarchus kingly excellencies, 4 his entry on a most corrupt
estate, 5 and reformation thereof by royall arts and actions.
6 His, and Dorilaus crosse-mariage to ech others sister, ha-
uing by ech a sonne; their mutuall defence, with Dorilaus
death.
Bvt the darkenesse of sorrow ouershadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked fro[m] dreames, which flattered them with more comfort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate co[n]ferece, but that she should be present to heare what passed. But Miso hauing now her authentic encreased, came with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: & that, when she was of their age, she trowed, she would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time of the day. The two sweete Princes with a smiling silence answered her entertainement, and obeying her direction, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (& sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprinted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) she would take further iudgement of him, before she would moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweete-meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some part of his life past; which although fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom she was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, and his vertuous father: which thus she did.
Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was
2 drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of who[m] al me expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, & yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus) no expectatio[n] in others, nor hope in himself could aspire to a higher mark, the[n] to be thought worthy to be praised by your iudgement, & made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no meanes get so sweete & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so could not you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the world a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of royall ancestors, famous, and famous of victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of mind more louely; valiant, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequethed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue found some more gratious acceptation? with that he imprisoned his looke for a while vpon Mopsa, who thereupon fell into a verie wide smiling. Truely (said Pamela) Dorus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the mid-day Sunne, though he be sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure he is, he shall shoote higher, then who aymes but at a bush. But I pray you Dorus (said she) tell me (since I perceaue you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly royall vertues, or by what wayes he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going togither, the story of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.
Incomparable Lady (said he) your commandement doth not onely giue me the wil, but the power to obey you, such
3 influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon, a kingdome, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that eue[n]the particular kings therin did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kind of fealty thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, whe[n] he came to his crowne, finding by his later ancestors either negligece, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those duties had bin intermitted, would neuer stirre vp old titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) should be broken; but contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherein the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of kingdomes: for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who[m] as he was most wise to see what was best, and most iust in the perfourming what he saw, & temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrary: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater harte to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make any wrongfull threatning vpon him. A Prince, that indeed especially measured his greatnesse by his goodnesse: and if for any thing he loued greatnesse, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of body, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fiftie yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepherdish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.
This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose father & grandfather likewise had dyed yong) he found his
4 estate, when he came to age (which allowed his authentic) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouernmet, that the name of a King was growne eue[n]odious to the people, his autority hauing bin abused by those great Lords, & litle kings: who[m] in those betweene-times of raigning (by vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, & oppressing them that woulde defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchic; that is, whe[n] men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe be, to whom they should obey. For they hauing the power of kinges, but not the nature of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal goe out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenance serue to vndermine the Royall soueraintie. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faults, then to preuent faultes: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as a biding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlings, glad indeede to be vnderlings to them they hated lest, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining should discouer the others filthines; and at length vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be directed; olde men long nusled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reformation; yong men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new-fanglenes both of manners, apparrell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchandise abused, and so townes decayed for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defences neglected; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended.
In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withal, did the King Euarchus finde his
5 estate, when he tooke vpon him the regiment: which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seueritie, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which he rather sought to preuent then to punish) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, should now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundred a duetie into the subiects hartes, he soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuie, could any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely; his first & principall care being to appeare vnto hi people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his lawes, as it were, his actions arising out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular loue in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue the[m]? He euen in reason disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, should loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make themselues (as it were) another thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they can get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: he contrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof him-selfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their liberty, without it stretched to licenciousncs, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight to their welfare, broght that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte he flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an action of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before he had done of iustice.
He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly said,
6 that she was no vnfit bra[n]ch to the noble stock wherof she came. Her he had giuen in manage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a fre[n]dship, as to co[n]firm the fre[n]dship betwixt their posteritie, which betwene them, by the likenes of vertue, had been long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valia[n]t, wise, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares fro[m] vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to speak of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable friendshippe (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betwene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) goe on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing maried his sister, had his manage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus: of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange & incredible things should be performed by that childe; whether the heauens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankind, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnes of their affirmation accompanie the greatnes of what they did affirme (euen descending to particularities, what kingdomes he should ouercome) that the King of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought him selfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: because a skilful man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish ma[n], either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering, that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, & by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded Thessalia, & brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend & brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his sister, & shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, & his brother, King of Pannonia, had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his frie[n]ds helpe) in a great battaile depriued of his life, his obsequies being no more sole[m]nised by the teares of his partakers, the[n] the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although al the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles; both Heauens & Earth giuing toke[n]s of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time to set, for the decreeing of perfectio[n] in a man, as at that time all folkes skilful therin did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death to Musidorus.
CHAP. 7.
1 The education of Pyrocles & Musidorus. 2 Their friend-
ship, 3 nauigation, 4 and first shipwracke. 5 The straunge
gratitude of two brothers to them, vpon their libera-
litie to those two brothers.
Bvt the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended
1 the care of his only son to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him & those euil neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (per-chaunce because among his subiectes) exceedingly beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in the[m], were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of all that knew the[m]. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue co[n]ceits not vnworthy of the best speakers: excellent deuises being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of battailes, & fortificatio[n]s being then deliuered to their memory, which after, their stronger iudgeme[n]ts might dispens, the delight of tales being co[n]uerted to the knowledge of al the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, & teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, & that taught them with far more diligent care, then Gramatical rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, & their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers; & in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no seruile feare vsed towardes them, nor any other violent restraint, but stil as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannic: Nature hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.
Among which I nothing so much delight to recount, as the memorable friendship that grewe betwixt the two Princes,
2 such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neer one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reuere[n]ce ful of loue to Musidorus, & Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus: till Pyrocles, being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and al things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or become the deliuery more gracefully, or employ al more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull, but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.
At which time vnderstanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia,
3 and almost Thrace, had now brought the co[n]clusion of al to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to the[m] both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake of all delayes; which Musidorus for his parte thought already had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntil he might go with him: which hauing fast bou[n]d his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now finding him able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not onely bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus, they recommended themselues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes: and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a seruaunt, wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moouing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, where with they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary purpose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power & noble effects of Loue, whereby the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the heauenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their co[n]ceats with co[n]firming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from Land-seruice, they had for a day & almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.
But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a
4 vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked ouer all the face of heauen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on. For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselves fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they coulde almost bethinke themselves of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vnder which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, ouer which the tossed and tottring ship shoulde clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so disseuered the louing companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them neuer met againe, but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizantium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune fails them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a darkenesse, as if it would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, & the shrouds of the ship with a ghastful noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those flowing kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terriblenesse of the continuall motion, the dissolutio[n] of the fare being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striking sailes to yeelde to be gouerned by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to shew it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in their countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what might be done (putting their handes to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet not to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannic of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vpon a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruel mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to haue her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the toppe of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roaring vowes, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason.
But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill, and desiring to escape, onely to serue the rule of vertue, not to
5 abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the shippe, which broken from his fellowes, rioted with more likelyhood to doo seruice, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the shippe. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) shewed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia, in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and hauing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, & euen when they went to dye, themselues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that louing part, farre from glorie, hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.
CHAP. 8.
1 Pyrocles cast on the shore of Phrygia led prisoner to the
King. 3 That suspicious tyrant naturalized. His intent
to kill Pyrocles. 5 Musidorus--his escape from sea, and
offer to dye for his friend. 6 Their contention for death.
7 Preparation for Musidorus execution. 8 His straunge de-
liuerie by Pyrocles, 9 and a sodaine mutinie. 10 Their kil-
ling the bad King, 11 and creating a better.
Bvt now of all the royal Nauie they had left but one peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchaunged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceedingly swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vpon the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.
For being cast on land much brused & beaten both with the seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and euen
2 almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to discouer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came straight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wette and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busines then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) beganne in captious manner to put interrogatories vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither.
But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iourney off, with letters from that officer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in discouering so great a personage; adding with all more then was true of his coniectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.
This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whom he was sent, a Prince of a
3 melancholy constitution both of bodie and mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, because of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares beganne to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destinie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subiectes did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gaue he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, espetially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccessings proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking him selfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharpe punishment: & when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no honor, to which impudent pouertie cannot make it selfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those desperate ambitious, who would builde their houses vpon others ruines, which after shoulde fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of the[m]: while suspitio[n] bred the mind of crueltie, and the effectes of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (ful of watch-full fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning theselues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.
But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared)
4 were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because euer thinking the worst) that those forces were prouided against him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite loste the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, thought, he woulde make him away, for being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyrany in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuincible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragious wrong, carrying himselfe in all his demeanure so consta[n]tly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.
But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendshippe in Musidorus: who being almost
5 drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyrocles was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, he founde meanes to acquaint him selfe with a nobl-man of that Countrie, to whom largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fitte instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subiect) he euen profeste himselfe his seruaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstande, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus woulde willingly put him selfe into his handes: knowing well, that how thirstie so euer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he woulde rather drinke that of Musidorus. The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euarchus, so preuayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.
And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte that worke of friendshippe in
6 Pyrocles, who both in speache and cou[n]tenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not releeued by him: asking him, what he had euer seene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man? and why he shoulde enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome prize to the vniuste King, that wisht none well, to them worse then others, and to him worste of all: and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly from-warde his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be.
Yet because he would in one acte, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie
7
8
was fallen) and withal cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannic. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a mind comforted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.
The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, born to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, & hauing his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, & putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer ma[n] betweene ioy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after co[n]sidering his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles, so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking of him selfe to vse the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this sorte: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place of defence) but making that a preseruation in not hoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst the all (for all were enimies) & had quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffolde to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, iust rage & desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sorte of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effectes beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the worlde should behold him a beholder) co[m]maunded his garde, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.
But as they were stil fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (co[m]mauded
9 to go vp after his fellowes against the Princes) hauing receiued a light hurt, more woud[n]ed in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so accompanied, he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight reuenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such thinges often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherwith certaine yong men of the brauest minds, cried with lowde voice, Libertie ; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sorte set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wisest (seeing that a popular licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defende them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.
But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his,
10 neere had, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: & with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus, after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obteined, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a gouernment, as they promised theselues of him.
But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a kingdome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the
11 bloud Roiall, & next to the successio[n], an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger fro[m] him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest secrecy, & asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-ma[n]: but with such conditions, & cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurace as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom indeed they looked for al good, but the nature of the gouernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyrany.
CHAP. 9.
1 The two brothers escape to the shore of Pontus. 2 Incostancy,
3 and enuie purtraied in the King & his Counsellor. 4 The
aduancement & ouerthrow by them of those two brothers.
5 The reuenge thereof by the two Princes. 6 The cruelties of
two reuengefull Gyants, and their death by the Princes,
7 Their honours, and their honourable mindes.
This dooing set foorth no lesse his magnifice[n]ce, then the other act did his magnanimitie: so that greatly
1 praysed of al, and iustly beloued of the newe King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, or Liegeman, they were drawne thence to reuenge those two serua[n]ts of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excelle[n]t Princesse) in willingly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: fro[m] whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought to the maine lande of Pontus; the same cou[n]try vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.
For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or vnreue[n]gefulnes,
2
3
4
as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant of his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a frie[n]d, but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himself, the[n] by killing the[m]: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.
He chau[n]ced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a ma[n] of the most enuious dispositio[n], that (I think) euer infected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie ma[n], nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: co[n]trary to the natures of al other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good newes the argume[n]t of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour no man could winne, but by being miserable.
And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnderstanding of their aduenture, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when advauncement (the most mortall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Coucellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reue[n]ging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (til that time one of his own subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did euer take heed of. But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into war, desiring their seruants liberty. But he swelling in thier hu[m]blenes, (like a bubble swollen vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw the happines in hauing such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with vnroyall reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen.
But that iniurie went beyond al degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at
5 their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more enclined to pitie) he was slaine vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their deade liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the honour done to the deade carcasses? There might Pyrocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers afts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, & monstrous men: all which in short time by priuate combats they deliuered the countries of.
Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse & force, therefore commonly called giants, who kept
6 the[m]selues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path, where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, wherunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vnco[n]quered courage, so a rude faithfulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impatient of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euident to them; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of fauor, which (many examples hauing taught them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they full of rage, retyred themselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster the[n] reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) ful of inward brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it self faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, growing more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleasing themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a seruiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secreatly vndertooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make the suffer death by their hands: So as they were manifoldly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.
It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor
7 is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares to the world; so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one action beget another; whereby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirite. And therefore hauing well established those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, & to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and therefore would themselues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie (like Ulysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the co[n]fines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an aduenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vnused examples therein, as well of true natural goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse.
CHAP. 10.
1 The pitifull state, and storie of the Paph[la]gonian vnkinde
King, and his kind sonne, 2 first related by the son, 3 then by
the blind father. 4 The three Princes assaulted by Plexirtus
and his traine: 5 assisted by their King of Pontus and his
troupes. 6 Plexirtus succoured and saued by two brothers,
that vertuously loued a most vicious man. 7 Beseeged by the
new King, 8 he submitteth, & is pardoned. 9 The two Prin-
ces depart to aide the Queene of Lycia.
It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then
1 sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place within a certaine hollow rocke offering it vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both these seemed to appeare a kind of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to lead me to that which should end my griefe, & thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, & nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.
This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted
2
vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature grau[n]ts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, & by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thece to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me intreate you to conuey this afflicted Prince to some place of rest & securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.
But before they could make him answere, his father began to speake, Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are
3 you, that leaue out the chiefe knotte of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my eares, (the onely sense nowe left me proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou dost mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp his blinde eyes, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I do wish my selfe, which is as euill as may be, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whom from my harte I wish that it may not proue ominous foretoke[n] of misfortune to haue mette with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my sonne (ô God, that trueth binds me to reproch him with the name of my sonne) hath said, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawful manage, of a mother fitte to beare royall children, this sonne (such one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my shorte declaration) and so enioyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growe[n] to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastarde sonne of mine (if at least I be bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies he vsed to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much poysonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smoothe malice, hidden ambition, & smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not, no remembrance, (no, of naughtines) delights me, but mine own; & me thinks, the accusing his traines might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruants of mine, whom I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to leade him out into a forrest, & there to kill him.
But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorely: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a priuate souldier, in a countrie here by. But as he was redy to be greatly aduaunced for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he hearde newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my self so to be gouerned by him, that all fauors and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauourites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my self nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with many indignities (if any thing may be called an indignity, which was laid vpon me) threw me out of my seat, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tyrannie) let me goe, nether imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie indeed, if euer there were any; full of wretchednes, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of stranger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tyranny, & murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himself a wel-willer of mine: to say the trueth (I think) few of the being so (considering my cruell follie to my good sonne, and foolish kindnes to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who fell to pitie of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnstained duety lefte in them towardes me, yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing me almes at their doores; which yet was the onelie sustenaunce of my distressed life, no bodie daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende me a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthie of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wrongs, not recking danger, & neglecting the present good way he was in doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kind office you see him performe towards me, to my vnspeakable griefe; not onely because his kindnes is a glasse eue[n]to my blind eyes, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatly aduenture the losse of his soul-deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if he would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, how much soeuer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade me to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since he was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto me. And now Gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may be the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully folowes his owne ruine.
The matter in it self lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the
4 gestures of pitie, since his face could not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which could not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufiicient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came him selfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as he came, not regarding the weake (as he thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) how falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but brauely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assaulted him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did behaue them among that co[m]panie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.
Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuailed, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come
5
6
vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger, presently to follow those two Princes whom he most deerely loued) was come in all hast, following as well as he could their tracke with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fit place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.
But then the match had ben so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, & worse gotten honour should haue tumbled together to destructio[n]; had there not come in Tydeus & Telenor, with fortie or fiftie in their suit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vp fro[m] their infancie with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to know feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that should deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismayed, and euer fortunate; and truely no more setled in their valure, then disposed to goodnesse and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a child, and not the father of vertue. But bringing vp (rather then choise) hauing first knit their minds vnto him, (indeed craftie inough, eyther to hide his faultes, or neuer to shew them, but when they might pay home) they willingly held out the course, rather to satisfie him, then al the world; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill he did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a country full of euil-wishing minds toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they found him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truly I may iustly say, Pyrocles & Musidorus had neuer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of securitie; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the co[n]trary. But this matter being thus far begun, it became not the consta[n]cie of the Princes so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia, they had in fewe dayes, lefte him but only that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing bene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had bene broken.
In which season the blind King (hauing in the chief cittie of his Realme, set the crowne vpo[n] his sonne Leonatus head)
7 with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault & his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his newe-become subiect) eue[n] in a moment died, as it should seeme: his hart broken with vnkindnes & affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of co[m]fort, as it was able no longer to keep safe his roial spirits. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all duties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnnatural brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whom the Princes neuer found in all their trauell two men of greater habilitie to performe, nor of habler skill for conduct.
But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing els, famin would at last bring him to destructio[n], thought better by hu[m]blenes to
8 creepe, where by pride he could not march. For certainely so had nature formed him, & the exercise of craft conformed him to all turnings of sleights, that though no ma[n] had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence argume[n]ts might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no ma[n] more impude[n]t to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting maner of aggrauating his owne euil, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way, that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus aliue into his hads) to speak with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission he vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne co[n]science, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; & anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not only gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an opinion of a future amedment: while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author therof,) were deliuered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, he had rather come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already co[m]mitted, then that they had done it at first by his consent.
In such sort the Princes left these reco[n]ciled brothers (Plexirtus in all his behauiour carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) & taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs acco[m]panie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her succour, both because the weaker (& weaker as being a Ladie,) & partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men liuing, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetened by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like both hugenes and force: in which two especially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two yong Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned the[m]selues with them that faithfully serued the poore Queene, at that time besieged: and ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their strength by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hoodwinking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliuerie of the Queene Erona.
CHAP. 11.
1 Dorus his suite to Pamela interrupted by Mopsas waking.
2 The sisters going with Zelmane to wash themselues.
3 The pleasantnes of the riuer. 4 The pleasure Zelmane
had in seeing them, vttered 5 in speach, 6 and song. 7 She
led by a spaniel, to know, and hurte her noble riuall. 8 The
parting of that fraye.
I haue heard (said Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus whe[n] he passed through this country:
1 therfore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeed sat swallowing of sleepe with ope mouth, making such a noise withal, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, & harty earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this drago[n] sleepes, that keepes the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may be the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternal powers, that the words I speak may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which can[n]ot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she sodainly start vp, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling: and therefore now (said she) Dorus go on.
But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, &
2 by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus depart. But Pamela (delighted eue[n] to preserue in her memory, the words of so wel a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues something, (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselues (such being the maner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale downe after them: which she might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basilius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his deuotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea: but not a word could she beginne, but that Miso would be one of the audience; so that she was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side; which of all the riuers of Greece had the
3 price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse, in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accou[n]ted exceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one could not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauel did purifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine would embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would stirre from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouermuch pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her greene lockes, by that running Riuer. There the Princesses determining to bath themselues, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpon paine of death, as no bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer, shewing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force coulde not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting vp againe: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) in-weeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse: and inuiting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, and she excusing her selfe with hauing taken a late cold, they began by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparell.
Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she was taken with such a quiuering, that she thought it more wisedome to leane her selfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Philoclea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dyamond taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace, and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, & leaue Philoclea, who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moued her feete, vnwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come ouer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the deepest that there-about she could be: and when cold Ladon had once fully imbraced them, himselfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.
Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not stay thy course to haue more full tast of thy
5 happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embracing, that the nether (though lothly) must needs giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom she is, vpon whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happie Ladon, which art now an vnperfect mirror of al perfection, canst thou euer forget the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds & mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fal into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then cal thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twentie bubbles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large vpon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.
But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a
6 great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that nowe all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more homage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In somuch that taking vp the Lute, her wit began to be with a diuine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated ; her soule the Queene which shoulde be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.
WHat toong can her perfections tell
In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her haire fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed ; more white then snow,
Which on cold winters face doth grow.
That doth present those euen browes,
Whose equall line their angles bowes,
Like to the Moone when after chaunge
Her horned head abroad doth raunge:
And arches be to heauenly lids,
Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.
For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,
The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine.
No lampe, whose light by Art is got,
No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not,
Can liken them without all peere,
Saue one as much as other cleere:
Which onely thus vnhappie be,
Because themselues they cannot see.
Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed,
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,
Blushing at sight of Phœbus pride.
Her nose, her chinne pure iuorie weares:
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood,
Like wine and milke that mingled stood
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,
Your eyes may tread a Louers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray,
No talke vntaught can finde the way.
The tippe no iewell needes to weare:
The tippe is iewell of the eare.
But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselues doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,
In worth, in taste, in perfitte hewe:
Which neuer part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe,
The second sweetly-fenced warde,
Pier heau'nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe.
Faire vnder these doth stately growe,
The handle of this pretious worke,
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.
Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say inuites the eye,
A little downward to espie,
The liuelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests: Like
pomels round of Marble cleere:
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.
Betwixt these two a way doth lie,
A way more worthie beauties fame,
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the ioyous field,
Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld:
But Lillies such whose natiue smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde, for it doth waste
Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste.
There may one see, and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face,
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.
In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought,
But that her nauel doth vnite,
In curious circle, busie sight:
A daintie scale of virgin-waxe,
Where nothing but impression lackes.
Her bellie then gladde sight doth fill,
Iustly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master,
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke,
But soft and supple satten like.
In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport:
Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort.
For such a vse the world hath gotten,
"
"
The best things still must be forgotten.
Yet neuer shall my song omitte
Thighes, for Ouids song more fitte;
Which flanked with two sugred flankes.
Lift vp their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion diues in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.
But bow all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie sees.
The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue.
Whose motion makes all graces moue.
Whose bought incau'd doth yeeld such sight,
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her braue calues, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,
More white then whitest bone of all.
Thereout steales out that round cleane foott
This noble Cedars pretious roote:
In shewe and sent pale violets,
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.
But back vnto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes,
Along whose ridge such bones are met,
Like comfits round in marchpane set.
Her shoulders be like two white Doues,
Pearching within square royall rooues,
Which leaded are with siluer skinne,
Passing the hate-sport Ermelin.
And thence those armes deriued are;
The Phœnix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe,
Ah woe is me, my woes renewe;
Now course doth leade me to her hand,
Of my first loue the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte:
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compact dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes,
Which conduit-like with curious crookes,
Sweete Hands make in that sweete land.
As for the fingers of the hand.
The bludy shaftes of Cupids warre,
With amatists they headed are.
Thus hath each part his beauties part.
But how the Graces duo impart
To all her limmes a spetiall grace,
Becomming euery time and place.
Which doth euen beautie beautifie,
And most bewitch the wretched eye.
How all this is but a faire Inne
Of fairer guestes, which dwell within.
Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse,
Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is.
The inke immortall fame dooth lends:
As I began, so must I ende.
No tongue can her perfections tell,
In whose each part all tongues may dwell.
But as Zelmane was com[m]ing to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had hu[n]ted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues ; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by & by he came againe, & amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of foure or fiue leaues of paper, & was bearing that away to. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importace it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Ge[n]tleman rose vp, & with a courteous (though sad) countenance presented himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her mind to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a ma[n] of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being indeed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue & paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let the[m] know of his close lying in that prohibited place, while they were bathing the[m]selues; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my self the punishme[n]t. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnesse, not my presumption. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart can[n]ot persuade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct: my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soul (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drewe out her sworde, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentlema[n] retired himself into an open place fro[m] among the bushes; & the drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sworde against you, since (if I be not deceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, & saued her life in killing the Lion: therfore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowledging my selfe bou[n]d to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sworde that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it self to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane harkening to no more wordes, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes & thrusts, that Nature & vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet stil courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart,would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defensiue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning auoidings of his body; and sometimes faining some blowes, which himself puld backe before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow out of her owne sweet dispositio[n], determining to kill him if he fought no better; & so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respectes, who standes onely vpon defence, stands vpon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to deliuer the gloue, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could haue done. But (saide shee) because I perceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue & admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.
But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to who[m] Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed & seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, & the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should parte from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reuerence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hiding the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, & Zelmane careful of his wound. But whe[n] they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, especially while themselues were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacifie with sleepe his ouer-watched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, & withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her self for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue lo[n]g desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: & at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon co[n]dition you shal hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene vs. Amphialus answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, & prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far of (who knew & wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherwith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that fauour.
CHAP. 12.
How Basilius found Plangus: 2 His lamentation. 3 Philoclea
entreated by Zelmane to relate the storie of Erona.
He being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene the[m]
1 returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake of so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cu[m]bersome obedience, Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela hauing a while made the lute in his la[n]guage, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphlalus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day (somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that euer I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. He lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme trauaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that he forced to take any rest; so hasty he was vpon his iourney: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was painted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and passionate talking to him selfe, moued my Father to fall in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.
Plangus. Basilius.
Plang
ALas how long this pilgrimage doth last ?
What greater ills haue now the heauens in store,
To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore,
With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,
But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found,
To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde,
Where it should be to selfe-destruclion bound?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?
Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine,
But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne;
Turnd from themselues, infecfed with their cage,
Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage,
Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes.
And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage.
The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes,
With cries first borne, the presage of his life,
Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife
This bodie is: this bodie so composed,
As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife.
So diuers be the Elements disposed
In this weake worke, that it can neuer be
Made vniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see
(Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues)
This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues:
For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine,
Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.
Basilius
Plangus
How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine
The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?
Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build
Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire
For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire
Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow
With losse of purest blood themselues to teare?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow,
Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease,
And saw those eyes (those Sonnes} such shoures to shew,
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,
Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,
Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no: Despaire my dayly lesson saith,
And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,
Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death.
Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie
Though in despaire, so Loue enforceth me;
Plangus doth liue, and must Erona dye? Erona dye?
O heauen (if heauen there be)
Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?
Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect
To those high powers, which idly sit aboue,
And vertue do in greatest need neglect.
Basilius
O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue
To irefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.
Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue.
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist
Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue)
We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme vs wormes should that high iustice leaue
His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is.
What glorie from our losse can he receaue?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,
While that we do at his sweete scourge repine,
The kindly way to beate vs to our blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line
Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone,
That doost so well their miseries define?
But such we are with inward tempest blowne
Of mindes quite contrarie in waues of will:
We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.
Plan
And shall shee dye? shall cruell fier spill
Those beames that set so many harts on fire?
Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill?
Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire
Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall.
Will spoils the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all,
And hopes with foule embracements her to get,
In whose decay vertues faire shrine must fall.
O Virtue weake, shall death his triumph set
Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste?
Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?
What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower?
What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower
That sweetens all the place; she is the guest
Of rarest price, both heau'n and earth her bower.
And shall (ô me) all this in ashes rest ?
Alas, if you a Phœnix new will haue
Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue
Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might
In him, the thoughts of Phëtons damme to graue.
Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight,
Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe
Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe?
To let that wit-old beast consume in flame
Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes?
O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames,
In thy high rninde) get her thy husbands grace.
Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes.
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face,
Her face which was more liuely in my hart;
O braine, where thought of her hath onely place ;
O hand, which toucht her hand when she did part;
O lippes, that kist her hand with my teares sprent;
O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart;
O soule, whose loue in her is onely spent,
What ere you see, thinke, touch, kisse, speake, or loue,
Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.
Basilius.
Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue,
They vttred are in such a feeling fashion,
That sorrowes worke against my will I proue.
Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,
And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie:
Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion.
Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie,
To hold these worldly things in such proportion,
As let them come or go with euen facilitie.
But our Desires tyrannicall extortion
Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes,
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.
But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes,
Seeke we to tame the childish superfluities:
Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes.
For what can breed more peeuish incongruities,
Then man to yeeld to female lamentations?
Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.
Plangus
If through mine eares pearce any consolation
By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction;
If ought I cease these hideous exclamations,
While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction;
Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
To wretched me, the last worst malediction.
Can I, that know her sacred parts restrained be,
For any ioy, know fortunes vile displacing her,
In morall rules let raging woes contained be?
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,
With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes
She lay for dead, till I helpt with vnlasing her ?
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
With Diamond in window-glasse she graued,
Erona dye, and end thy ougly painefulnes?
Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued
That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother.
As if by death she onely might be saued?
Then let me eke forget one hand from other:
Let me forget that Plangus I am called:
Let me forget I am sonne to my mother,
But if my memory must thus be thralled
To that strange stroke which conquer'd all my senses,
Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?
Basilius.
Who still doth seeks against himselfe offences,
What pardon can auaile? or who employes him
To hurt himselfe, what shields can be defenses?
Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him
In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled,
He heapes in inward griefe, which most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled:
Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow:
Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow:
And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided,
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided,
We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is:
So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse
Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.
The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.
When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie much of the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to
3 know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (said she) one may be little the wiser for reading the Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to find by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that after he knew my father to be Prince of this countrie, while he hoped to preuaile something with him in a great request he made vnto him, he was content to open fully vnto him the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to spende about it) he recounted.
CHAP. 13.
Erona 1 irreligious gainst Loue, 2 must loue the base Anti-
philus, 3 is loued, pursued, and beleaguered by the great Ti-
ridates. 4 The two Greeke Princes ayde her. 5 They com-
batte with two Kings; Antiphilus with Plangus; they
conquerors, he prisoner. 6 Eronas hard-choice to redeeme
him. 7 Tiridates slaine, Antiphilus deliuered, Artaxia
chased by the two Princes, 8 and her hate to them.
Of late there raigned a King in Lycia, who had for the blessing of his manage, this onely daughter of his,
1 Erona, a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be praise-worthy. This Princesse Erona, being 19. yeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lycia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pictures & images were superstitiously adored (ether moued theruto, by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which could breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface all those statues and pictures. Which how terriblie he punished (for to that the Lycians impute it) quickly after appeared.
For she had not liued a yeare longer, when she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a yong man but of mean
2
parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that he was but the sonne of her Nurse, & by that meanes (without other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the manage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) she for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, & giuing her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as by knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) he shortly after died. Then foorthwith Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authentic) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.
But before she could acco[m]plish all the sole[m]nities, she was ouertake[n] with a war the King Tiridates made vpon
3 her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell & tyrannous: for (being far too stro[n]g in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, & tuned the[m] in the cries of her subiects; although his fair sister Artaxia (who would acco[m]pany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; whe[n] there came thether (following the course which vertue & Fortune led the[m]) two excellent you[n]g Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedo[n] , the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Pla[n]gus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes & teares) the most accomplished both in body & mind, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to her self) which are not onely a praise to me, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.
[ ]These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswel to help the weaker (especially being a Ladie) as to saue a Greeke people
4 from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering together such of the honestest Lycians, as woulde venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secreat message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with all force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tiridates campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the foot-men, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie.
Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his felow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then him selfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: & against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his own cousin germain, & sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, & Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Pla[n]gus tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equal, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: & to bring Erona to a co[m]pelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike of Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affectio[n]) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should be layed vpon Antiphilus.
Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our own thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was,
6 then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effectes: she being drawne to two contraries by one cause. For the loue of him comaunded her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him comaunded him to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, ô Erona, and shal Tiridates enioy thy bodie? with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neuer haue more part of Antiphilus the[n] if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affectio[n] shalbe gnawing, & the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shall die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Loue had well kindled that parte of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona, and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no ? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head of. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tiridates: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpo[n] him afterward; this is but feare of shame, & loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe: he shalbe married ; if he be well, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these wordes if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Antiphilus saw her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times calling for a seruaunt to carry message of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting, she was pale, whe[n] she reme[m]bred the fruits of denial. As for weeping, sighing, wringing her ha[n]ds, & tearing her haire, were indiffere[n]t of both sides. Easily she wold haue agreed to haue broken al disputatio[n]s with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At levgth, eue[n] the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determinatio[n] of yeelding preuailed, especially, growing vpo[n] a message of Antiphilus; who with all the coniuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any co[n]dition. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired the[m] to trie some way for her deliuerance; shewing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.
They that knew not what she had done in priuate, prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what
7
8
is inco[n]stancy, seemes cu[n]ning; so did this cha[n]ge indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulatio[n]. For it made the King as reckles, as them dilige[n]t: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne, with who[m] she would needs go, either to die her self, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, co[n]ueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with true lame[n]tations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way co[m]fort her in respect of her brothers losse, who she studied all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasioners, hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any priuate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an other aduenture) left them.
CHAP. 14.
1 Philocleas narration broken of by Miso. 2 Her old-wiues
tale, 3 and ballad against Cupid. 4 Their drawing cuts
for tales. 5 Mopsas tale of the old cut: 6 cut of by the La-
dies to returne to their stories.
Bvt now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when I they inte[n]d to tell some horrible matter,
1 they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares fro[m] me, yet may I well desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withall wish you al, that fro[m] al mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vpon another. (And as she spake that worde, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue helde the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; & so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I wil none of that, I promise you, as lo[n]g as I haue the gouernme[n]t, I will first haue my tale, & the[n] my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned fro[m] Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you wil haue first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she looked, hauing threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: & Miso (sitting on the grou[n]d with her knees vp, & her hands vpon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto the[m]. I tel you true (said she) whatsoeuer you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father
2 had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husba[n]d, the[n] Dametas. But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are ful of your tittle tattling of Cupid: here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woma[n] told me, what an old wise ma[n] told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in writing; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young me[n] talke; O the pretie little eies of Miso; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, & the other cast daiseys at me: I must co[n]fesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set vp my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woma[n] perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woma[n]) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now a daies, and in that good worlde was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a nu[m]ber of lads that loue you; Wel (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Loue is? With that she broght me into a corner, where ther was painted a foule fie[n]d I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This mo[n]ster sat like a ha[n]gman vpo[n] a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurell, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth honge a lace of two faire pictures, of a ma[n] & a woma[n], & such a cou[n]tenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those alureme[n]ts to come thither & be hanged. I, like a te[n]der harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (sayd she) this same is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellowes, one after another; & it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secreat; but vpon my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come fro[m] the belly of the faire Fenus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had tolde me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therewith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Argus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, & there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.
POore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne,
To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits:
One brings the stuiffe, the other stamps the coine,
Which breeds nought else but gloses of deceits.
Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do
A naked god, young blind, with arrowes two.
Is he a God, that euer flies the light?
Or naked he, disguis'd in all vntruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tamde old Phœbus youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade:
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.
No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury kill'd his false sire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardon'd beastly fact.
With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame,
With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed,
The wretch compelled a runnagate became,
And learn'd what ill a miser state doth breed,
To lye, faine, gloze, to steale, pry, and accuse,
Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse.
Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts,
A horned head, clouen foote, and thousand eyes,
Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes,
With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes.
His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight:
His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright.
Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts,
Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceaue:
Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants,
In those weake harts that his aduice receaue.
He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt,
Sucking ones ill, another to infect.
To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine:
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire:
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.
But for that Loues desire most rules the eyes,
Therein his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues;
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:
Till now at length that Ioue him office giues,
(At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue)
In this our world a hang-man for to be,
Of all those fooles that will haue all they see.
These Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies
4 (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will thinke (answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishnes going vp & downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a
5 King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that euery body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpo[n] a goodly horse, one haire of gold, & the other of siluer; and so the Knight casting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away togither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest co[m]plaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard them, vanisht quite away: & she lay down, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, and burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, & fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hil, & many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, & cried to her for helpe: and she for pittie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, til she was come to the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, & she went, & neuer rested the euening, wher she we[n]t in the morning; til she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.
Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, & I
6 promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it shuld grow a festiual Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these Ladies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter reme[m]bra[n]ce, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.
CHAP. 15.
1 Plangus-his parentage. 2 His trick of youth, 3 espied, 4 & tu-
rned ouer by, and to his old father. 5 An inueagling-womans
arts. 6 A guilty stepmothers diuellish practises against Plan-
gus. 7 Her ministers false informations. 8 Plangus perplexi-
ties. 9 His fathers ielousies. The Queenes complots 10 to feede
the ones suspicion, 11 & work the others ouerthrow. 12 Plan-
gus taken; 13 deliuered flieth: 14 is pursued with old hate, &
new treason. 15 Yet must he serue abroad, while a new heire
is made at home. 16 This story broken off by Basilius.
The father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this son, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned again vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp al thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.
This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused: by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault vpon it selfe) loued a priuate mans wife of the principal Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called loue, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly, then by which he was take[n] forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong man perswaded himself he loued her: she being a woman beautiful enough, if it be possible, that the outside onely can iustly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince broght his affectio[n] with her to that point, which ought to engraue remorse in her harte, & to paint shame vpon her face. And so possest he his desire without any interruption; he constantly fauouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I haue seene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde (vnworthie so to be loste) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe accident.
It fell out, that his many-times leauing of the court (in vndue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be
3
4
manifolde) from one to another came vnto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessarie euill seruauntes to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights so diuerted.
Whereupon, the King (to giue his fault the greater blow), vsed such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threatnings vpon her, and vpon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceiued with that young opinion, that if it be euer lawfull to lie, it is for ones Louer,) employed all his witte to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked conceit of her, he wrested him, as much as he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with prodigall protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempts, but thereby the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie preuayled, his father beleeued; and so beleeued, that ere long (though he were alredy stept into the winter of his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gaue himselfe ouer vnto it; and (because he would auoide the odious comparison of a yong riuall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Prouince lately rebelled against him, which he knewe could not be a lesse worke, the of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaued him so worthilie, as euen to this country the fame therof came, long before his own coming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far vnnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age & affectio[n]) folowed his suite with all meanes of vnhonest seruants, large promises, and each thing els that might help to counteruaile his owne vnlouelines.
And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus, or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so
5 aspiring a purpose, lefte no arte vnused, which might keepe the line from breaking, wherat the fishe was alredy taken; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himself vpon the hooke, which he had greedely swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning with a dolefull countenaunce, yet neither forgetting hansomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were euer seasoned with sighes; and any fauour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilfull in his humors, she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors: neuer suffering his feare to fall to a despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: she was content he should thinke that she loued him; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon he grewe bolde, he straight was encountred with a maske of vertue. And that which seemeth most impossible vnto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not onely sigh when she would, as all can doo; & weep when she would, as (they say) some can doo; but (being most impudent in her hart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing, and make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In summe, to leaue out many particularities which he recited, she did not onely vse so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on, eue[n] in such a careere as she would haue it; that within a while, the king, seeing with no other eyes but such as she gaue him, & thinking no other thoghts but such as she taught him; hauing at the first liberall measure of fauors then shortned of the[m], when most his Desire was inflamed; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her mind (as he thought) louing, but chastly louing. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he fou[n]d his father, not only maried, but alredy a father of a sonne & a daughter by this woma[n]. Which though Pla[n]gus (as he had euery way iust cause) was grieued at; yet did his grief neuer bring forth ether co[n]temning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who besides she was growen a mother, and
6 a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his presence caried her condemnation: so much the more, as that she (vnchastly attempting his wo[n]ted fa[n]cies) fou[n]d (for the reuere[n]ce of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall: which breeding rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a reuenge, but (as fearing harm from him) endeuoured to doo harme vnto him. Therefore did she trie the vttermost of her wicked wit, how to ouerthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the fauour of his father: which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cu[n]ning [h]ow to vndermine it. And therfore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) she made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her advauncing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excelle[n]cies, the goodlines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular loue towardes him: nay, she shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of ielousie in him. Thus hauing gotten an opinion in his father, that she was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell she to praise him with no lesse vehemencie of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular loue the Subiects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in winning their fauors, or his courage in employing their fauours: that he was not borne to liue a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Maiestie, such a Kingly entertainement, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially re-membring those vertues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subiects, then suspected of the Princes. Then would she by putting-of obiectio[n]s, bring in obiectio[n]s to her husbands head, alredy infected with suspitio[n]. Nay (would she say) I dare take it vpon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might haue bene, who loued greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes vpon their fathers ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Loue, can abide no lingring, & euer urgeth on his own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop the[m]. But the Gods forbid, we should euer once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you & the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he wil not hurt. Then euer remembring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with priuate ielousie of her loue, doing him excessiue honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if he preuailed, they should increase his glory: which she made a weapon to wou[n]d him, vntill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies prying into euery accident.
Then tooke she help to her of a seruant neere about her husband, whom she knew to be of a hasty ambitio[n], and
7 such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him she vseth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of iealousie, making him know the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with diuers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing diuers parts, make one musicke. He sometime with fearefull countenaunce would desire the King to looke to himselfe; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperings, and expectation of some suddaine change, vpon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time he would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his fauour, for that it was too late now to keepe him vnder. Now seeming to feare himselfe, because (he said) Plangus loued none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, & an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he fou[n]d, not only souldiery, but people weary of his gouernment, & al their affections bent vpon Plangus. Both he and the Queene concurring in strange dreames, & each thing else, that in a mind (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition.
Which though Plangus fou[n]d, yet could he not auoid, euen co[n]traries being driuen to draw one yoke of argume[n]t:
8
9
if he were magnificat, he spent much with an aspiring intent: if he spared, he heaped much with an aspiring intent: if he spake curteously, he angled the peoples harts: if he were silent, he mused vpon some daungerous plot. In summe, if he could haue turned himself to as many formes as Proteus, euery forme should haue bene made tedious.
But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gaue the occasion of further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay a long the hill where his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I make the sonne binde the father. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspitio[n]) amazed him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres, as while they straue, straue to be ouercome. But euen while the doubtes most boiled, she thus nourished them.
10 She vnder-hand dealt with the principall me[n] of that cou[n]try, that at the great Parliame[n]t (which was then to be held) they should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his associate in gouernme[n]t with him: assuring the[m], that not only she would ioine with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly; chargeing the[m] not to acquaint Plangus withal; for that perhaps it might be harmeful vnto him, if the King should find, that he wer a party. They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because they loued him, & truly, because such indeed was the minde of the people, but safely, because she who ruled the King was agreed therto) accomplished her cou[n]sell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she & they did, the more she knew her husba[n]d would fear, & hate the cause of his feare. Plangus fou[n]d this, & hu[m]bly protested against such desire, or wil to accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought he disse[m]bled, accenting his integritie to be but a cu[n]ning face of falshood: and therfore delaying the desire of his subiects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands vpon his sonne: which his wife thus brought to passe.
She caused that same minister of hers to go vnto Pla[n]gus, & (enabling his words with great shew of faith, &
11 endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noble men of that cou[n]try, the King himselfe giuing his consent, and that few daies should passe, before the putting it in practize: with all discouering the very truth indeed, with what cunning his stepmother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opinio[n], made him giue him the better credit: yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to see further. Wherupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night, about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to haue his wife, & those noble me[n] together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: & therfore offered him, that if himselfe would agree, he would bring him into a place where he should heare all that passed; & so haue the more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Pla[n]gus (being subiect to that only disaduantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him: & arming himself (because of his late going) was closely conueied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother making all her gestures cunningly counterfait a miserable afflictio[n], she lay almost groueling on the flower of her cha[m]ber, not suffering any body to comfort her; vntill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she told him (euen almost crying out euery word) that she was wery of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to conceale her husba[n]ds murther, or accuse her sonne, who had euer bene more deare, then a sonne vnto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she told him, that her sonne Plangus (solliciting her in the old affection betweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.
She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifull digressios, whe[n] in comes the same fellow, that brought Pla[n]gus:
12 & run[n]ing himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseeching him to saue himself, for that there was a man with sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, we[n]t out, & called his gard, who entring the place, fou[n]d indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but sta[n]ding suspiciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking he had put vp his sworde because of the noise) neuer tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.
But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his: friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them,
13 who came, and by force deliuered him; although nu[m]bers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) tooke armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might haue vsed the force of his friends to reuenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall loue of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme iust, caused him rather to choose a volu[n]tarie exile, the[n] to make his fathers death the purchase of his life: & therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his fathers sister, liuing in his Court eleuen or twelue yeares, euer hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recouer his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed vnto you.
But his father had so deeply engraued the suspicion in his hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull
14 guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; & therfore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did euer hate his Nephew Tiridates, and afterwards his neece Artaxia, because in their Court he receiued countenance, leauing no meanes vnatte[m]pted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked seruant of his, who vndertooke to empoyson him. But his cu[n]ning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful serua[n]ts of Pla[n]gus did discouer him. Wherupo[n] the wretch was taken, & (before his wel-deserued execution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I haue told you.
Which co[n]fession autentically set downe (though Tiridates with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no
15 effect. For the King hauing put the reines of the gouernment into his wiues hande, neuer did so much as reade it; but sent it streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred vpon Plangus, for the death of their seruaunt. And now finding, that his absence, and their reportes had much diminished the wauering peoples affection towardes Plangus, with aduauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the commons, they preuailed so farre, as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driuen to continue his seruing Tiridates, as he did in the warre against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius (not able longer to abide their absence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelmane he was affraid she had stollen away his daughters) inuited them to follow the Sunnes counsel in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to vnderstand the storie of Antiphilus treason, and Eronas daunger, whose case she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could vtter it, she set forth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobilitie of her courage preuailed ouer it, and she desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he gouerned himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius giuing the infinite tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.
CHAP. 16.
1 The cumber of Zelmanes loue and louers. 2 Gynecias loue-
lamentations. 3 Zelmanes passions 4 & sonet. 5 Basilius-his
wooing, and Zelmanes answeres. 6 Philoclea feed attur-
ney to plead her fathers cause.
So brought he them vp to visite his wife, where betweene her, & him, the poore Zelmane receaued a
1 tedious entertainemet; oppressed with being loued, almost as much, as with louing. Basilius not so wise in couering his passion, could make his toong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Louer thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heauens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes vse the aduantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane, as she sate vpon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast vpon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed: Once Zelmane could not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely vpon her pleasure) Basilius with seruiceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynecia well knew, and could haue found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could haue borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from iealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeue it is for loue; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine he profers, is of a good taste) their loue was hatefull, their courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, where not onely her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) deare Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny & mine? For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shepherdish folkes, who trouble thee with a little enuious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I haue now Miso, the worst of thy diuels, let loose vpon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Loue and iealousie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou euer seest me, but dost neuer see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to heare. Alas who euer but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished being still present? To whom but me haue louers bene iailours, and honour a captiuitie?
But the night comming on with her silent steps vpon the[m], they parted ech from other (if at lest they could be parted,
2
of whom euery one did liue in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liberally vpon such eies which by their will would euer be looking: and in lest measure vpon Gynecia, who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful comfort of the lights remoued from her) kneeling vp in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & the[n] in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which neuer heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receaue this desastred changeling? Happie, happie be they onely which be not: and thy blessednes onely in this respect thou maist feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here ô forgotten vertue (said she) this miserable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie, that was a comely ornament: now why should nature crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would haue said, but that Basilius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, & bega[n] to co[m]fort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a iealous loue of him: which humor if she would a litle haue maintained, perchance it might haue weakned his new conceaued fancies. But he finding her answeres wandring fro[m] the purpose, left her to her selfe (glad the next morning to take the adua[n]tage of a sleepe, which a little before day, ouerwatched with sorow, her teares had as it were sealed vp in her eyes) to haue the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two louers, & euer kept from any meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her violent desires; like a riuer the more swelling, the more his current is stopped.
The chiefe recreation she could find in her anguish, was somtime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her vnhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & do dutifull reuerence to euery thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne again to her inward thoughts; somtimes despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the actiue passion of Loue cheering and cleering her inuention, how to vnbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched louers. But this morning Basilius himself gaue her good occasion to go beyond them. For hauing combd and trickt himself more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her giuen ouer to her musicall muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did vtter these passionate verses.
4
LOued I am, and yet complaine of Loue:
As louing not, accused, in Loue I die.
When pittie most I craue, I cruell proue:
Still seeking Loue, loue found as much I flie.
Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I haue beyond desire:
I waile for want, and yet am chokte with store.
This is thy worke, thou God for euer blinde:
Though thousands old, a Boy entitled still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde,
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
Yet thus much Loue, O Loue, I craue of thee:
Let me be lou'd, or els not loued be.
Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he perceaued she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to
5 loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe vnto her, falling downe vpon both his knees, and holding vp his hands, as the old goueniesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly saw the golde[n] shoure, O heauely woma[n], or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious vnto you, nor my humble suit seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe your eies to descend vpon this miserable old-ma[n], whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serue as an encrease of your beautiful triumphs. You only haue ouer throwne me, & in my bondage co[n]sists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke to be despised of you: but looke vpon him with pittie, whose life serues for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a cou[n]tena[n]ce ascanses she vnderstood him not) told him, It became her euil to suffer such excessiue reuerence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselues sounded so, as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enioying those your excellencies, wherein my life is vpheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lifting vp her face as if she had receaued a mortall iniurie of him, And is this the deuotion your ceremonies haue bene bent vnto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that haue emboldned such base fancies towards me? enioying quoth you? now little ioy come to them that yeeld to such enioying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges bowed vnder him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himself; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all ouer his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth; he was about to giue a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes head by this deuise to make her profile of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said vnto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were vnfit either for me to heare, or you to speake: but yet the large testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) might haue had a better grace; and perchance haue found a gentler receipt.
Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and conceipt was by Loue quickned) heard scarcely halfe her
6 answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might saue his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towardes his daughter Philoclea: whom he found at that time duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watching her; hauing left Mopsa to doo the like seruice to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the coniuring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie vtter) besought her she would preserue his life, in who[m] her life was begonne; she would saue his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth ouer-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoeuer he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts: and that she needed not disdaine any seruice (though neuer so meane) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then euer she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enioy the priuate conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast ouer her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed nether promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her vttermost for her fathers seruice. That for Zelmanes fauour, she would in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she woulde not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doinges to be accomplished in goodnes: and therfore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he woulde not imparte it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had euer beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to take that, since he could haue no more (thinking it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse vnto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, & took her proffer tha[n]kfully, desiring onely a speedy returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso streight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set vpon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in ouer-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was com[m]anded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whitte from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did euill to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gaue her a stoppe for that while.
CHAP. 17.
1 Zelmanes teares, 2 and tearefull dittie. 3 Philoclea enters
conference with her. 4 She shues, and shewes her selfe Prince
Pyrocles. 5 Philoclea feares much, but loues more. 6 Their
conclusion, 7 with reentrie to their intermitted historio-
logie.
So away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her trauayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her aduerse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she must fauour her Riuall; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe her.
But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying vpon a banke, with her face so bent ouer
1 Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might haue thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the vnder-running riuer. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she liued, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to represent vnto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares vnto you, procure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all thinges of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these fewe wordes, and let the vttermost ends of the world know them. A Loue more cleer then your selues, dedicated to a Loue (I feare) more cold then your selues, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow vpon me; and with the coldenes en-flames a worlde of fire within me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses.
OVer these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes,
2 (Mine eyes euen great in labour with their teares)
I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes
Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne euer cleares.
In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be.
My thoughts imprisonde in my secreat woes,
With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound:
The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes,
But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound.
And make me heare the plaints I would refraine:
Thus outward helps my inward griefes maintaine.
Now in this sande I would discharge my minde,
And cast from me part of my burdnous cares:
But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde,
And see therein how well the writer fares.
Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire:
What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire?
And assoon as she had written them (a new swarme of thoughts stinging her mind) she was ready with her foot to giue
3 the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But Philoclea (to whom delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her) gaue her self to be seen vnto her, with such a lightning of Beauty vpo[n] Zelmane, that nether she could looke on, nor would looke of. At last Philoclea (hauing a little mused how to cut the threede euen, betweene her owne hopelesse affection, and her fathers vnbridled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lippes, (whereof each sange their pane, to make vp the harmonic of bashulnesse) began to say, My Father to whom I owe my self, & therefore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giuing vp her life to the lippes of Philoclea, and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers erra[n]d, who should soon receiue a sufficient answere. But now she demaunded leaue not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to ease her harte thus farre, that if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke the situation, and the riuer the prospect of the most beautiful buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the vnworthinesse of euery worde that should be presented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner.
Most beloued Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your selfe, (waited-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the
4 importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the vttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of enuious occasion (by the malicious eie hateful Loue doth cast vpon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in wordes, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by respects due vnto you, in respect of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or neuer to be preserued. I doo therefore vowe vnto you, hereafter neuer more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If euer the sound of Loue haue come to your eares, or if euer you haue vnderstood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest hartes, and change the most setled estates: receiue here an example of those straunge Tragedies; one, that in him selfe conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from hencefoorth beleeue that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a liuing image, and a present storie of what Loue can doo, when he is bent to ruine. But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my harte consent to aduenture the reuealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou commest too late, when already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whome you onely haue brought to this game of Fortune, and vnused Metamorphosis: whome you onely haue made neglect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me in a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will neuer leaue till they haue drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the Goddesse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from you be powred vpon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my wordes: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no wordes can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of Honour, and let vertue hold them. For if the highest Loue in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pittie. If otherwise you be (alas but let it neuer be so) resolued, yet shall not my death be comfortles, receiuing it by your sentence.
The ioy which wrought into Pygmalions mind, while he found his beloued image was softer, & warmer in his folded
5 armes, till at length it acco[m]plished his gladnes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was euen such, as by each degree of Zeltnanes wordes creepingly entred into Philoclea: till her pleasure was fully made vp with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did ouer-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine haue playd his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Loue streight stood vp & deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain sparke of honour, which rose in her well-disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whom alone she desired to be (with all the other co[n]tradictions growing in those minds, which nether absolutly clime the rocke of vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gaue place, or at lest gaue no more light in her mind, then a ca[n]dle doth in the Sunnes presence. But euen sicke with a surfet of ioy, and fearefull of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubtes whether he sleepe or no; or like a fearfull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gaue these affectionate wordes for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing it is to a deuided minde to make a wel-ioyned answere? how harde it is to bring inwarde shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be obserued in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom? Shall I say ô Zelmane? Alas your wordes be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had either neuer bene, or euer bene Zelmane: you had either neuer attempted this change, set on with hope, or neuer discouered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behauiour ill gouerned, gaue you the first comfort: I feare me, my affection ill hid, hath giue you this last assurance: I feare indeed, the weakenesse of my gouernment before, made you thinke such a maske would be gratefull vnto me: & my weaker gouernment since, makes you to pull of the visar. What shall I doo then? shal I seeke far-fetched inuentions? shall I labour to lay marble coulours ouer my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, ô Zelmane (for so I loue to call thee, since in that name my loue first began, and in the shade of that name my loue shall best lie hidden,) that euen while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my loue must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the victorie: vse it with vertue. Thy vertue wan me; with vertue preserue me. Doost thou loue me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloued.
Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of
6 the bow of her affectio[n], a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to haue done. But Pyrocles so caried vp with ioy, that he did not enuy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some iewels of right princely value, as some litle tokens of his loue, & qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, vnto him, which euen in the Sea had amongst his iewels bene preserued. But little needed those proofes to one, who would haue fallen out with her selfe, rather then make any contrarie coniectures to Zelmanes speeches; so that with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyrocles would haue sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire, but Philoclea commaunded the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage.
7 And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to purloine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane, she tolde her the storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona, for the rest she had already vnderstood of her sister. For (saide she) I haue vnderstood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of diuers aduentures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona; and the ende of that warre (you might perceiue by my selfe) I had vnderstood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, vntil you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the fame thereof hauing rather shewed it by pieces; then deliuered any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall vnto me of those things which haue made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I haue you here out of them, euen the remembraunce of them is pleasaunt. Pyrocles easily perceiued she was content with kindnesse, to put of occasion of further kindnesse; wherein Loue shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Loue prooued him selfe valiant, that durst with the sworde of reuerent dutie gaine-stand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of the entertainement which she allotted vnto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histories may euer make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to giue it hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and selling Erona in her gouernement; for setled we left her, howsoeuer since (as I perceiued by your speech the last day) the vngrateful treason of her ill-chosen husband ouerthrew her (a thing in trueth neuer till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke without hauing such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not haue held his affection? so great goodnes could not haue bound gratefulnesse? and so high aduancement could not haue satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to giue ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, vpon this cause we parted from Erona.
CHAP. 18.
1 Anaxius surcuidrie; 2 and challenge to Pyrocles, accep-
ted. 3 The execution of Ladies done on a Light-of-loue.
4 Pyrocles-his intercession in the cause. 5 The lewd parts
of that light lecher. 6 His scoffing excuses. 7 Didos reuenge
on him stopped, 8 and his reuenge on her stayed by Pyro-
cles.
Evardes (the braue & mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the co[m]bat for Erona) had three
1 Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the foremost racks of Fame for great minds to atte[m]pt, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom al men would willingly haue yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to bestow it vpon himselfe, before any could giue it. For of so vnsupportable a pride he was, that where his deede might well stirre enuie, his demeanor did rather breed disdain. And if it be true that the Gyants euer made war against heauen, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing vniust, while his liking was his iustice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the worthy Prince Pla[n]gus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword & speare in iudging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe before Plangus in that, so much would he haue had his allowance in his seruice.
But now that he vnderstood that his vncle was slaine by me, I thinke rather scorne that any should kil his vncle, then
2 any kindnesse (an vnused guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his reuenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge to me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia; where he would proue vpon me, that I had by some trecherie ouercome his vncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not haue withstood. Youth & successe made me willing enough to accept any such bargaine; especially, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath vniuersally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had diuers times fought with him, & neuer bene able to master him; but so had left him, that euery man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in al other his match; Anaxius stil deeming himselfe for his superiour. Therefore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I vnderstood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desirous to do something without the company of the incomparable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my self, whatsoeuer before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as receiued, what euer there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giuing me in him so liuely an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist ouer mine eyes, as not to see, and to loue it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (ô heauens) how ca[n] my life euer requite vnto him? which made me indeed find in my selfe such a kind of depending vpon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mis-trustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiuing to ouer-rule me, I straue against it; not that I was vnwilling to depend vpon him in iudgeme[n]t, but by weakenesse I would not; which though it held me to him, made me vnworthy of him. Therfore I desired his leaue, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tendernesse; and so priuately went from him, he determining (as after I knew) in secreat maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to preuent any foule play that might be offered vnto me. Full loth was Erona to let vs depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after fell to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kindnesse, and halfe a dayes iourney in my way toward Anaxius) met an aduenture, (though in it selfe of small importance) I will tell you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape.
3 As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within the wood of the right hand, made me well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a verie vnmanlike voice, so to crie. But making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behind me, before I saw at the bottome of one of them a gentleman bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he could. Vpo[n] him (like so many Eagles vpon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women; truely such, as one might well enough say, they were hansome. Each of them helde bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, hauing bene before-hand vnarmed of any defence from the wast vpward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cryed and prayed, while they sported themselues in his paine, and delighted in his prayers, as the arguments of their victorie.
4
I was moued to compassion, and so much the more that he straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliuer him from those tormenters. But before my-self could resolue, much lesse any other tell what I would resolue, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seue[n]or eight knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, and not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due reuenge, but with so ouer-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my hart could not brooke it: & therfore (answering them, that how I would haue defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combate first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse good maners) ioyntly. But such was the end of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie victorie would bring forth) ranne away; sauing onely one; who was so flesht in malice, that neither during, nor after the fight, she gaue any truce to her crueltie, but still vsed the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the impatient patient: and was now about to put out his eies, which all this while were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of seeing who preuailed ouer him. When I came in, and after much ado, brought her to some conference, (for some time it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; & most, before she would in her speech leaue off" that remembrance of her bodkin) but at length whe[n] I puld off my head-peece, and humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) the[n] with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gaue her griefe vnto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the executing of my iust reuege vpon this naughtie creature, a man in nothing, but in deceauing women; But because I see you are young, and like enough to haue the power (if you would haue the mind) to do much more mischiefe, then he, I am content vpon this bad subiect to reade a lecture to your vertue.
This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his deade
5 auncestors to haue left such an off[s]pring?) in shape as you see not vncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conuersation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merie simplicitie, his words of hartie companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not think so stayed, as to thinke mischieuously: delighted in al such things, which by imparting their delight to others, makes the vser therof welcome; as, Musicke, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, & such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes ende, neede neuer wish a better co[m]panio[n]. But vnder these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I will tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the fauour of poore sillie women, that I would be too much ashamed to confesse, if I had not reuenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted in deceiuing vs, we could neuer be warned, but rather, one bird caught, serued for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gaue away to his new mistresse, whe[n] he betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making vs now iealous, now enuious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giuing one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subiect to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde, which indeede could neuer be had: neuer ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked vs in some such disaduantage, as we could not return dry-shod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would he vse his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare, and an awe which made vs loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it) I must confesse, euen in the greatest tempest of my iudgeme[n]t was I neuer driuen to think him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to gette and keepe him, as though therein had laien my felicitie: like them I haue seene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who shoulde haue the ball, and yet euery one knew it was but a ball. But in the end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that we had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for euer lost, partly by our owne faults, but principally by his faultie vsing of our faults. For neuer was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more vnmanlike brauerie vse his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I maruell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long vnited. For so hath he dealt with vs (vnhappie fooles,) as we could neuer tell, whether he made greater haste after he once liked, to enioy, or after he once enioyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his own shame, it delighted him to be challenged of vnkindnesse: it was a triumph vnto him to haue his mercie called for: and he thought the fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Louers: yet so farre had we engaged our selues, (vnfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaintes could not but carrie the greatest accusation to our selues. But euerie of vs (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recouer him, while he rather daily sent vs companions of our deceipt, then euer returned in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so vnworthie a changeablenesse; leauing vs nothing but remorse for what was past, and despaire of what might followe. Then indeede, the common iniurie made vs all ioyne in friendshippe, who till that time, had employed our endeuours one against the other. For, we thought nothing was a more condemning of vs, then the iustifying of his loue to her by manage: then Despaire made Feare valiant, and Reuenge gaue Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here) deuised how to get him among vs alone: which he (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easilie gaue us opportunitie to doo.
And a man may see, euen in this, how soone Rulers growe proude, and in their pride foolish: he came with such an
6 authoritie among us, as if the Planets had done inough for us, that by us once he had beene delighted. And when we began in courteous manner, one after the other, to lay his unkindnesse unto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to iustifie his cruell falshoode, and all with such iestes, and disdainfull passages, that if the iniurie could not be made greater, yet were our conceiptes made the apter to apprehende it.
Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall neuer forgette, how he woulde prooue it was no inconstancie to chaunge from one Loue to an other, but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most changeable. For (said he) I euer loued my Delight, & delighted alwayes in what was Lovely: and where-soever I founde occasion to obtaine that, I constantly folowed it. But these constant fooles you speak of, though their Mistres grow by sicknes foule, or by fortune miserable, yet stil will loue her, and so committe the absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their loue from fairenes to foulenesse, and from louelines to his contrarie; like one not content to leaue a friend, but will streight giue ouer himself to his mortall enemie: where I (whom you call inconstant) am euer constant; to Beautie, in others; and Delight in my self. And so in this iollie scoffing brauerie he went over us all, saying, He left one, because she was over-waiwarde; another, because she was too soone woon; a third, because she was not merie inough; a fourth, because she was ouer-gamesome; the fifth, because she was growen with griefe subiect to sicknesse; the sixt, because she was so foolish, as to be ielous of him; the seuenth, because she had refused to carie a letter for him, to another that he loued; the eight, because she was not secrete; the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede have mette with a false Æneas) to me, I say, (ô the ungratefull villaine) he could finde no other fault to obiect, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer.
But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we hauing those seruants of ours in readines, whom you lately so
7 manfully ouercame) laide holde of him; beginning at first but that trifling reuenge, in which you found vs busie; but meaning afterwardes to haue mangled him so, as should haue lost his credit for euer abusing more. But as you haue made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong ouershadowes in my iudgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not inough for him, to haue deceiued me, & through the deceipt abused me, & after the abuse forsaken me, but that he must now, of al the company, & before all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow eue[n]in your iudgeme[n]t, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; & I know (whosoeuer saies the co[n]trary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receiue this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how soeuer my fellowes pardon his iniuries, for my parte I will euer remember, & remember to reuenge this scorne of al scornes. With that she to him afresh; & surely would haue put out his eies (who lay muet for shame, if he did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, & mingling force with intreaty, staied her furie.
But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they
8 should kill that woma[n], that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; vnder which I had before serued, and to spend my uttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie; which so well preuailed for her, that in the ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sides. And so I leauing her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my iourney towards Anaxius, for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.
CHAP. 19.
1The monomachie betweene Anaxius and Pyrocles; 2 ad-
iourned by Pyrocles to resuccour Dido. 3 The course of
Didos daunger. 4 The miserablenesse of her father. 5 His
carlish entertainement to Pyrocles; 6 and his treason a-
gainst him. 7 Pyrocles hard bestead. 8 succoured by Mu-
sidorus: 9 both saued by the King of Iberia. 10 The exe-
cution of the traitors, and death of Dido.
I did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that space of time he came (indeede, according to
1 promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime ouer any daunger. soone as euer he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran vpon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, hauing kept my selfe ready for him, because I had vnderstood, that he obserued but few complements in matters of armes, but such as a proud anger did indite vnto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit ech other vpon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe; for my parte (I must confesse) I neuer receiued the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my minde forced them to quicken themselues, because I had learned of him, how little fauour he is woont to show in any matter of aduantage. And indeede he was turned, and comming vpon me with his sworde drawne, both our staues hauing bene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him, that truely I know not who gaue the first blowe. But whosoeuer gaue the first, it was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truely, for a time it was well fought betweene vs; he vndoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, winning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come vpon the point of the broken speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand vpward; so as it lighting vpon his hart, the horse died. He driuen to dismount, threatned, if I did not the like, to doo as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the victorie, I descended.
So began our foote-fight in such sort, that we were well entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that
2 vnconstant Pamphilus, whom I had deliuered (easie to be knowne, for he was bare faced) with a dozen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding vpon a palfrey, he following her with most vnmanlike crueltie; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of payne, or hope of succour: which was so pittifull a sight vnto me, that it mooued me to require Anaxius to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to perfourme the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Ladie. But he that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which he cals his mind) bad me leaue of that thought; but when he had killed me, he would then (perhaps) go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long betweene vs (longing in my hart to deliuer the poore Dido) giuing him so great a blowe, as somewhat staied him, (to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him toward my horse, who trotting after the co[m]panie, in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that vse made me nimble vnto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me: but his prowde harte did so disdaine that exercise, that I had quickly ouer-run him, & ouertaken my horse; being (I must co[n]fesse) ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to passe thereby, who hallowed & howted after me as at the arrantest coward, that euer shewed his shoulders to his enemie. But when I had leapt on my horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, (see how feare giues him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised him to returne thether again, as soone as I had relieued the iniuried Ladie. But he railing at me, with all the base wordes angry contempt could endite; I said no more, but, Anaxius, assure thy self, I nether feare thy force, nor thy opinion. And so vsing no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurres, I ranne in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in al their conceipts from Anaxius, which as far as I could heare, I might well heare testified with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moued to turne backe againe.
But the Ladies misery ouer-balanced my reputation so that after her I went, & with six houres hard riding (through so
3 wild places, as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes, then of my selfe, so rightly to hit the way) I ouergat the[m] a little before night, neere to an old il-fauoured castle, the place where I perceiued they meant to perfourme their vnknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clothes, when I came in among them, & running through the first with a lau[n]ce, the iustnesse of the cause so enhabled me against the rest (falsharted in their owne wrong doing) that I had, in as short time almost as I had bene fighting with only Anaxius, deliuered her from those iniurious wretches: most of whom carried newes to the other world, that amongst men secret wronges are not alwaies left vnpunished. As for Pamphilus, he hauing once seene, & (as it should seeme) remembred me, euen from the beginning began to be in the rereward, and before they had left fighting, he was too far of to giue them thanks for their paines. But when I had deliuered to the Ladie a ful libertie, both in effect, & in opinion, (for some time it was before she could assure her selfe she was out of their handes, who had layd so vehement apprehension of death vpon her) she then tolde me, how as she was returning toward her fathers, weakely accompanied (as too soone trusting to the falshood of reconcilement) Pamphilus had set vpon her, and killing those that were with her, carried her selfe by such force, and with such maner as I had seene, to this place, where he meant in cruell and shamefull manner to kill her, in the sight of her owne Father; to whom he had already sent worde of it, that out of his castle windowe (for this castle, she said, was his) he might haue the prospect of his onely childes destruction, if my comming, whom (she said) he feared (as soone as he knew me by the armour) had not warraunted her from that neere approching crueltie. I was glad I had done so good a deede for a Gentlewoman not vnhandsome, whome before I had in like sorte helped. But the night beginning to perswade some retiring place, the Gentlewoman, euen out of countenaunce before she began her speach, much after this manner inuited me to lodge that night with her father.
Sir (said she) how much I owe you, can be but abased by wordes, since the life I haue, I holde it now the second time
4 of you: and therefore neede not offer seruice vnto you, but onely to remember you, that I am your seruaunt: and I would, my being so, might any way yeeld any small contentment vnto you. Now onely I can but desire you to harbour your selfe this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in truth this countrie is very daungerous for murthering theeues, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confesse, that as the loue I beare you makes me thus inuite you, so the same loue makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where you shalbe so (not spoke by ceremonie but by truth) miserably entertained. With that she tolde me, that though she spake of her father (whom she named Chremes) she would hide no truth from me, which was in summe, that as he was of all that region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he either by nature, or an euill receiued opinion, giuen to sparing, in so vnmeasurable a sorte, that he did not onely barre him selfe from the delightfull, but almost from the necessarie vse thereof; scarsely allowing him selfe fitte sustenaunce of life, rather then he would spende of those goods, for whose sake onely he seemed to ioye in life. Which extreame dealing (descending from himselfe vpon her) had driuen her to put her selfe with a great Lady of that countrie, by which occasion she had stumbled vpon such mischance, as were little for the honour either of her, or her familie. But so wise had he shewed himselfe therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his cost, he was content to be deafe to any noise of infamie: which though it had wronged her much more then she deserued, yet she could not denie, but she was driuen thereby to receaue more then decent fauours. She concluded, that there at lest I should be free from iniuries, & should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should want of the effects thereof.
I, who had acquainted my selfe to measure the delicacie of foode and rest, by hunger and wearinesse, at that time well
5 stored of both, did not abide long entreatie; but went with her to the Castle: which I found of good strength, hauing a great mote rounde about it; the worke of a noble Gentleman, of whose vnthriftie sonne he had bought it. The bridge drawne vp, where we were faine to crie a good while before we coulde haue answeare, and to dispute a good while before answeare would bee brought to acceptance. At length a willingnesse, rather then a ioy to receaue his daughter, whome hee had lately seene so neere death, and an opinion rather brought into his heade by course, because he heard himselfe called a father; rather then any kindnesse that hee found in his owne harte, made him take vs in; for my part by that time growne so wearie of such entertainement, that no regard of my selfe, but onely the importunitie of his daughter made me enter. Where I was met with this Chremes, a driueling old fellow, leane, shaking both of head and hands, alredie halfe earth, and yet then most greedie of Earth: who scarcely would giue me thankes for that I had done, for feare I suppose, that thankefulnesse might haue an introduction of reward. But with a hollow voice, giuing me a false welcome, I might perceaue in his eye to his daughter, that it was hard to say, whether the displeasure of her company did not ouer-way the pleasure of her owne comming. But on he brought me, into so bare a house, that it was the picture of miserable happinesse, and rich beggerie (serued onely by a company of rusticall villaines, full of sweate and dust, not one of them other, then a labourer) in summe (as he counted it) profitable drudgerie: and all preparations both for foode and lodging such, as would make one detest nigardnesse, it is so sluttish a vice. His talke nothing but of his pouertie, for feare belike lest I should haue proued a young borrower. In summe, such a man, as any enemy could not wish him worse, then to be himselfe. But there that night bidde I the burthen of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host; ouer-hearing him sometimes bitterly warne his daughter of bringing such costly mates vnder his roofe: which she grieuing at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partly of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partly because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make euen his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Loue had not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceaue by some ill-fauoured cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face.
But the causes of their ioyes were farre different; for as the shepheard and the butcher both may looke vpon one sheepe
6 with pleasing conceipts, but the shepheard with minde to profile himselfe by preseruing, the butcher with killing him: So she reioyced to finde that mine owne benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and louingly reioyced: but his ioy grew, (as I to my danger after perceiued) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias setting my head to sale, for hauing slaine her brother Tiridates; which being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to whosoeuer brought me aliue into her hands) that old wretch, (who had ouer-liued all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet aboue all things louing money, for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deseruing of him, for to haue that which he was determined neuer to vse. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolued to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sett in all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison hard by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending; as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not, that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would play his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs accompanie me some myles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apte to suspect; since a churles curtesie rathely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst vpon such cart-iades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my friends or subiectes euer to thriue. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.
So we went on togither: he so old in wickednes, that he could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life
7 he had alreadie contracted for: till comming into the falling of a way which ledde vs into a place, of each-side whereof men might easily keepe themselues vndiscouered, I was encompassed sodainly by a great troupe of enimies, both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they coulde not haue vsed worse eloquence to haue perswaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and iustice my best sword and shield, I vsed the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more then to their valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray.
But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent
8 Musidorus came to my succour; who hauing followed my trace as well as he could, after he had found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that couetous man, and now tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leaue monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeach, came vpon the spurre after me (because with one voice many told him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant vnto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine, me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victorie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number, then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well delight me to speake off, but I should so holde you too long in euery particular. But in trueth, there if euer, and euer, if euer any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour.
Yet what the vnmeasurable excesse of their number woulde haue done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof
9 was cutte off by the chaunceable comming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of that worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you somtimes to mention: who, (not yeelding ouer to old age his country delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this iniurie offred vnto vs: and hauing great numbers of Courtiers waiting vpon him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted vs, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselues.
He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne constrained confession, what was the motiue of this mischieuous
10 practise; misliking much such viole[n]ce should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke; but chiefely disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrongfully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plangus against him, caused the Captaines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who (alas the poore Gentlewoman) was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she ouer-boldly for her weake sex sought to hold the[m] from me, nor yet his owne shamefull ende was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pittifull exclamations vpon.
CHAP. 20.
1 The two Princes passage to the Iberian Court. 2 Andro-
manas omniregencie. 3 Her parti-loue to them both. 4 Her
faire and foule meanes to inueigle them. 5 Palladius loue
to Zelmane. 6 Zelmanes loue to Pyrocles, and practise
with her Louer to release her beloued.
.
This iustice thus done, and we deliuered, the King indeede in royall sorte inuited vs to his Court, not farre
1 thence: in all points entertaining vs so, as truely I must euer acknowledge a beholdingnesse vnto him: although the streame of it fell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some dayes being there (curing our selues of such wounds as we had receiued, while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learne nothing, but that he was gone out of the countrie, boasting in euerie place, how he had made me run away) we were brought to receiue the fauour of acquainta[n]ce with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pamela did in so liuely colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure therof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the knowledge my selfe had.
And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with the
2 rarenes of affection, and after with the very vse of directing, she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her husbands minde, that a-while he would not, and after, he could not tell how to gouern, without being gouerned by her: but finding an ease in not vnderstanding, let loose his thoughtes wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Ladie. But in him it was nether guided by wisdome, nor followed by Fortune, but thereby was slipte insensiblie into such an estate, that he liued at her vndiscreete discretion: all his subiectes hauing by some yeares learned, so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely fro[m] her, that it should haue neded a stronger vertue the[n] his, to haue vnwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striuing (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not striue) he scarcelie knewe what was done in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instrumentes to frame the relation.
3
"
"
Now we being brought knowen vnto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selues expected) she continuallie almost haunted vs, till (and it was not long a doing) we discouered a most violent bent of affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an euill minde in authoritie, dooth not onely folow the sway of the desires alreadie within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affected vs both: and so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (hauing many times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a laste delight, that she delighted in infamy: which often she had vsed to her husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with reproch; while he (hoodwinkt with kindnes) lest of al me[n] knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting foorth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much adua[n]ced to the eye, as abased to the iudgeme[n]t by arte) thereby to bring vs (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite. And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certain badly-dilige[n]t ministers, who ofte[n] cloyed our eares with her praises, & would needs teach vs a way of felicitie by seeking her fauor. But when she found, that we were as deaf to the[m], as dumb to her; then she listed no lo[n]ger stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but directly entred vpo[n] the[m]; making her self an impudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with making vs see that all fauor & power in that realm, so depe[n]ded vpon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretio[n]; which yet she so te[m]pred, as that we might rather suspect, the[n] she threate[n]. But whe[n] our wou[n]ds grew so, as that they gaue us leaue to trauell, & that she found we were purposed to vse all meanes we could to depart thence, she (with more & more importunatnes) craued that, which in all good maners was ether of vs to be desired, or not granted. Truely (most faire & euery way excelle[n]t Lady) you would haue wondred to haue seene, how before vs she would confes the contentio[n] in her own mind, between that louely (indeed most louely) brounes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the deceiuable stile of affection) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandered (like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her wordes would beginne halfe of the sentence to Musidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friend-shippe betweene vs) to desire either of vs to be a mediator to the other; as if we should haue played a request at Tennis betweene vs: and often wishing, that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendshippe might meet; and be the knotte which might tie our hartes together. Which proceeding of hers I doo the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) that by the foyle therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, & the warrantablenes of your fauour to me.
At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (saide Pyrocles) when she perceiued no hope by suite to preuaile, then
4 (perswaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to haue vs accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to ouerthrowe him in his owne estate. Which, because of the straunge successes we had in the kingdomes of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not vnlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leaue the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused vs to be put in prison, hauing (while we slept) depriued vs of our armour: a prison, indeede iniurious, because a prison, but els well testifying affection, because in all respectes as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres, (not seene by many, though she cared not much how many had seene her) come vnto vs. Then fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great perplexitie, restrained to so vnworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by Loue, which (I cannot tell how) in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that loue might mooue vs, so much, and more that faultines of her mind remoued vs; her beautie being balanced by her shamelesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie vs in captiuitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly iniurious to him, that saued our liues: and to accuse a Ladie that loued vs, of her loue vnto vs, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: & but by one of those waies we sawe no likelihood of going out of that place, where the words would be iniurious to your eares, which should expresse the manner of her suite: while yet many times earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eies the downe-cast looke of modestie. But we in the meane time far from louing her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her husbandes sauing of our liues; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him sende vs worde, that vpon our liues, we should doo whatsoeuer she commaunded vs: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures bent to the preseruation of his estate. But when that made vs rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fel she to seruile entreating vs, as though force could haue bene the schoole of Loue, or that an honest courage would not rather striue against, then yeelde to iniurie. All which yet could not make vs accuse her, though it made vs almost pine awaie for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an idlenesse.
But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was past, and doubt of what was to follow, Loue (that I thinke in the
5 course of my life hath a sporte sometimes to poison me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy vnto vs: which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the co[n]clusion was such, as I must euer while I liue, think it worse then a wracke, so to haue bene preserued. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great expectation, brought vp in the hope of themselues, & already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of his fathers crowne: whereof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as vnworthie, in respect of the wrong was therby done against the most worthy Plangus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or vngratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the fauourable winde, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely not in their mouths, now giuing Plangus (who some yeares before was their only cha[m]pion) the poore co[m]fort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that regiov, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection loue a young Ladie, brought vp in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischieuously vnhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I haue, and sometimes must make, but neuer honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Loue (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fel it out that this Zelmane, (though truely reason there was inough to loue Palladius) yet could not euer perswade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Palladius, as they feele, that feele an vnloued loue. Yet louing indeede, and therefore constant, he vsed still the intercession of diligece and faith, euer hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: vntill the time of our being come, and captiued there, brought foorth this ende, whiche truely deserues of me a further degree of sorrow then teares.
Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladie Zelmane (like some vnwisely liberall, that more delight to giue
6 presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her loue (so much vndeserued, as not desired) vpon me, then to reco[m]pence him, whose loue (besides many other things) might seeme (euen in the court of Honour) iustly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it came to passe, that (as nothing doth more naturally follow his cause, then care to preserue, and benefite doth follow vnfained affection) she felt with me, what I felte of my captiuitie, and streight laboured to redresse my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by using the helpe therein of Palladius: who (true Louer) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which she intituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploy his vttermost credite to relieue vs: which though as great, as a beloued son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not preuaile to procure vs libertie. Wherefore he sought to haue that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visit vs (for indeed our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit, or intermission) he vsed the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliuer vs.
CHAP. 21.
1 The cause of the Iberian yearely iustes. 2 Queene Helens
prayses. 3 The prize borne by her Knights, which Pal-
ladius and the Princes set them to reuerse.4 The inuen-
tions and actions of seuen tilters. 5 Palladius and the
Princes entry into the field, honour in it, and flight from
it. 6 Andromanas pursuite of them 7 to the death of
her sonne 8 and her selfe.
The time of the maryinge that Queene was euery year, by the extreame loue of her husband, & the
1 seruiceable loue of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike honours, which indeede (as it were) proclaymed to the worlde, how deare she was to the people. Among other, none was either more gratefull to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then iusts, both with sword and launce, mainteined for a seuen-night together: wherein that Nation dooth so excell, bothe for comelines and hablenes, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come, some to striue, some to learne, and some to behold.
This day it happened that diuers famous Knights came thither fro[m] the court of Helen, Queene of Corinth; a Ladie,
2 whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to ioyne with the sounde of her Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are farre beyond all conceipt of comparison) so hath her gouernment bene such, as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens iudgements, then her beautie to the eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to gouerne a people, in nature mutinously prowde, and alwaies before so vsed to hard gouernours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admiration, not of co[n]tempt: & which was notable, euen in the time that many countries were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought still would conclude there) yet so ha[n]dled she the matter, that the threatens euer smarted in the threatners; she vsing so stra[n]ge, and yet so well-succeeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her Ladies by Loue, chast. For by continuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as caried riches of Knowledge vpo[n] the streame of Delight: & such the behauiour both of her selfe, and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie, not vpon waywardnes, but by choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to haue bene the manage place of Loue and vertue, & that her selfe was a Diana apparelled in the garments of Venus. And this which Fame onely deliuered vnto me, (for yet I haue neuer seene her) I am the willinger to speake of to you, who (I knowe) knowe her better, being your neere neighbour, because you may see by her example (in her selfe wise, and of others beloued) that neither follie is the cause of vehement Loue, nor reproch the effect. For neuer (I thinke) was there any woman, that with more vnremoueable determinatio[n] gaue her selfe to the cou[n]cell of Loue, after she had once set before her mind the worthines of your cousin Amphialus; & yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honour blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisdome, then to discerne, what is worthy the louing? what more agreable to goodnes, then to loue it so discerned? and what to greatnesse of hart, then to be constant in it once loued? But at that time, that Loue of hers was not so publikely knowne, as the death of Philoxenus, and her search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to haue such leasure to sende thither diuerse choyse Knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchaunce the honour, of that Triumph.
Wherein so they behaued themselues as for three daies they caried the prize; which being come from so farre a place to
3 disgrace her seruaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had neuer vsed armes) persuaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer vs two to haue our horse and armour, that he with vs might vndertake the recouerie of their lost honour: which she graunted; taking our oth to go no further then her sonne, and neuer to abandon him. Which she did not more for sauing him, then keeping vs: and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to haue eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loued vs. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the fielde: where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in a broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or that countrie Knights wan the field.
The first that ran was a braue Knight, whose deuise was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his
4 Impresa was Against him came forth an Iberian whose manner of entring was, with bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dosen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuffe, who caried his launces, which though strong to giue a launcely blow indeed, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretily represe[n]ted shephooks. His own furniture was drest ouer with wooll, so enriched with iewels artificially placed, that one would haue thought it a manage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a sheepe marked with pitch, with this word Spotted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among them there was one (they say) that was the Star, wherby his course was only directed. The shepherds attending vpo[n] PHILISIDES went amo[n]g the, & sa[n]g an eclogue; one of the[m] answering another, while the other shepheards pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musick to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I onely remember sixe verses, while hauing questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards sodaine growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.
ME thought some staues he mist: if so, not much amisse:
For where he most would hit, he euer yet did misse.
One said he brake acrosse; full well it so might be:
For neuer was there man more crossely crost then he.
But most cryed, O well broke: O foole full gaily blest;
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.
Thus I haue digrest, because his maner liked me wel: But when he began to run against Lelius, it had neere growne (though great loue had euer bene betwixt them) to a quarrell. For Philisides breaking his staues with great commendation, Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that Art) ranne euer ouer his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might well see, he shewed more knowledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallant a grace his staffe came swimming close ouer the crest of the Helmet, as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moued with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend) made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellency, and whose iniuries he could neuer otherwise returne, then honours.
But so by Lelius willing-missing was the odds of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent run[n]ing of a Knight, though fostred so by the Muses, as many times the verie rustick people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs; yet could he so well perfourme all armed sports, as if he had neuer had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wild man; but such a wildnes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaues, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthian Knights absolutely preuailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth; whose deuise was to come without any deuise, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, with such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a liue bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure liuely representing the Phœnix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consumed the birde, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire ; but his armor so naturally representing Ice, and all his furniture so liuely answering therto, as yet did I neuer see any thing that pleased me better.
But the delight of those pleasing sights haue carried me too farre in an vnnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most
5 excellent Ladie) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the dayes before) had the better; Palladius neither suffring vs, nor himselfe to take in hand that partie till the afternoone; when we were to fight in troopes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Palladius (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truely behauing himselfe nothing like a beginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night of the Iberian side: And the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept by our party, He (that saw the time fitte for that deliuerie he intended) called vnto vs to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and willing by good-wil, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt vs (he commanding passage) we went after him vpon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we might go further from his mothers fury, whereat he was no lesse angry, & ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.
But his mother (as I learned since) vnderstanding by the gard her sonnes conuaying vs away (forgetting her greatnes, &
6 resining modesty to more quiet thoughts) flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow vs. But what she did (being rather with vehemency of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her owne confusion hinder her owne desires. For so impatiently she commanded, as a good while no body knew what she com[m]anded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredy past the confines of her kingdome before she ouer-tooke vs: and ouertake vs she did in the kingdome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or daunger of hauing entred into anothers dominions: but (hauing with her about a three score hors-men) streight commaunded to take vs aliue, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therein: which they attempted to do, first by speach, & then by force. But neither liking their eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few swordes in a iust defence, able to resist any vniust assaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to ouercome weake wrong.
And now had the victorie in effect without bloud, when Palladium (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers
7 fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of Andromanas, and hated vs for hauing dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of vs, with a traiterous blow slew his you[n]g Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had deliuered, iudge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called iustice in such a case: once, so it wroght in us, that many of his subiects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.
All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a furious loue, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: &
8 whe[n] she saw vs light down, to see what help we might do to the helplesse Palladius, she came run[n]ing madly vnto vs, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceiued it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that alredy his life had loste the vse of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse vpon his faulte, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especiallie, finding in vs rather detestation then pittie (considering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presently to depart, which stil she laboured to stay. But depriued of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else could haue stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her loue, though not her person, awaked pittie in vs, and I went to her, while Musidorus labored about Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I could but receaue some few of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing vnto me many crosses & mischances in my loue, whe[n]soeuer I should loue, wherin I feare, and only feare that her prayer is from aboue granted. But the noise of this fight, & issue thereof being blazed by the country people to some noble-me[n] there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered vs, let us go on our iourney, we hauing recommended those royal bodies vnto the[m] to be conueyed to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea, seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remembrance of Palladius, but much more of that which therupon grew, she would needs drinke a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another from her lippes; whereat she blushed, & yet kissed him againe to hide her blushing. Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a rigor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great war to keepe that peace, but was faine to go on his storie: for so she absolutely badde him, and he durst not know how to disobey.
CHAP. 22.
1 A new complaint of Pamphilus new change, 2 to a grace-
lesse curtisan. 3 Zelmane loues, and as a Page serues Py-
rocles. 4 The two Princes policie to reconcile two warring
brothers. 5 The vnbrotherly braue combat of Tydeus and
Telenor. 6 Plexirtus his viperine vnkindnes to the kind-
est Leonatus. 7 His conquest by the two brothers, 8 and
his dogtrick to destroy them by themselues. 9 The regreete
of the dying brothers.
So (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we
1 sawe sitting vpon the drie sandes (which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, & euery way shewed she cared not what paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide vnder so much agonie: and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet she not perceiue the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might vnderstand her at times, say, Thou doost kill me with thy vnkind falshood: and, It greeues me not to die, but it greeues me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine owne paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slaine for thee, but much it torme[n]ts me to be slain by thee. Thou art vntrue Pamphilus, thou art vntrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou sweare vnto me, that the Sun should loose his light, and the rocks runne vp and down like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, & rockes runne mad for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darkned; the rockes stand still, though thou change like the wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I coulde graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well haue knowe[n] thee by others, but I would not; & rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my loue helped thy wordes to deceiue me. Well, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise, when thou didst forsake thy vnfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) will reuenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus liue happie, though I die.
And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus)
2 slept to comfort her: & though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whom the vnconstante Pa[m]philus had betrothed himselfe, which had moued the other Ladies to such indignation as I tolde you: nether her woorthinesse (which in truthe was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare affection) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-day appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whom she complayned; one, that in diuers places I had heard before blazed, as the most impudentlie vnchaste woman of all Asia; and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she would not stick to employ them (whom she made vnhappie with her fauour) to draw more companions of their follie: in the multitude of whom she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by braue souldiers: waiwardly proud; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie: and yet hauing no good thing to redeeme both these, and other vnlouely parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and vnwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withall, left his faith: Leucippe, of whom one looke (in a cleere iudgement) would haue bene more acceptable, then all her kindenesses so prodigallie bestowed. For myselfe, the remembrance of his crueltie to Dido, ioyned to this, stirred me to seeke some reuenge vpon him, but that I thought, it shoulde be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched: and therefore (leauing him to be punished by his owne election) we conueyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to vestall Nunnes, where she resolued to spende all her yeares (which her youth promised shoulde be many) in bewayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-dooer.
But the next morning, we (hauing striuen with the Sunnes earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets
3 of that building, when there ouertoke vs a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to vs, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom vnconsulting affection (vnfortunately borne to me-wards) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to leaue her more-decent rayments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing vs, had apparrelled her selfe like a Page, with a pittifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leauing nothing, but the short curles, to couer that noble head, but that she ware vpon it a faire head-peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparrell of white, wrought vpon with broken knots, her horse, faire & lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo: and the sweetnes of her countenance did giue such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome the vnhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeue, that there was a praise in that vnskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe words (which borowed the help of her countenance to make themselues vnderstood) she desired me to accept her in my seruice; telling me, she was a noble-mans sonne of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who hauing seene what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I vnderstood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me: who well shewed, there is no seruice like his, that serues because he loues. For, though borne of Princes bloud, brought vp with tenderest education, vnapt to seruice (because a woman) & full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Loue enioyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslaue could euer be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her eyes say vnto me, that they loued? and yet, I (not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to vnderstand them. How ofte would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, & feare to offend me? Truly I remember, that then I marvailing, to see her receiue my comandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheere-fulnes: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought childish in experie[n]ce: but since returning to my reme[m]brance, they haue come more neere vnto my knowledge: & pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I vse many words: for her affection to me deserues of me an affectionate speach.
In such sort did she serue me in that kingdom of Bythinia, for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good
4 end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the King of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (diuiding our selues to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of our selues) to get such credite with them, as we brought them to as great peace betweene the[m]selues, as loue towards vs, for hauing made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia, towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke; and then with the other daungers we dayly past, should haue litle rest in their thoughts, till they saw vs.
But we were not entred into that Kingdome, whe[n] by the noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasaunt valey,
5 which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities somewhere doth giue a pleasant spectacle of run[n]ing horses; so of either side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemd in by wooddy hilles; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest fights betweene two Knights, that euer hath adorned the martial storie. So as I must co[n]fesse, a while we stood wondring, another while delighted with the rare brauery therof; till seing such streames of bloud, as threatned a drowning of life, we galloped towarde them to part them. But we were preuented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who using this time of their extreame feeblenesse, all together set vpon them. But common daunger brake of particular discorde, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a liuely courage they resisted, and by our help draue away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we hapt to take aliue the principall. But going to disarme those two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to vs, then astonishment to themselues, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor; whose aduenture (as afterwarde we made that vngratious wretch confesse) had thus fallen out.
After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (forgetting all
6 former iniuries) had receiued that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour, his goodnesse being as apt to be deceiued, as the others crafte was to deceiue. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the vngratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be ouercome, not by iustice it selfe: but calling him to him, vsed wordes to this purpose. Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine haue bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou arte. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puls thee from thine owne iudgement, I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde; which, with the territorie about it, aunciently pertained vnto this crowne, now vniustly possessed, and as vniustly abused by those, who haue neither title to holde it, nor vertue to vse it. To the conquest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and giue thee my right. Go therfore, and with lesse vnnaturalnesse glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.
7 Plexirtus, mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant promises, gladly embraced the offer: and hastilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with vs succouring the gratious Queen Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if not onely) obteyned the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gaue them such an authentic, that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they onely deserued honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound vnto them: while they likewise (with a certaine sincere boldenesse of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all openly and plainely, thinking nothing should euer by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.
But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could co[n]strue no other end of me[n]s doings, but self seking) sode[n]ly
8 feared what they could doo; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainely hated them, as hauing both might, and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, & others affection, he durst not take open way against them; and as harde it was to take a secrete, they being so continually followed by the best, & euery way hablest of that region: and therfore vsed this diuelish sleight (which I wil tel you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friedship toward him to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they wel knew, there was no friendship betweene him and the new King of Pontus, neuer since he succoured Leonatus and vs, to his ouerthrow) gaue them to vnderstand that of late there had passed secrete defiance betweene them, to meete priuately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himself weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead; making either of the sweare, to keep the matter secret, euer ech fro[m] other, deliuering the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blew armour; & Telenor, that it was a black armour: & with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, & Telenor a blew; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, til they came to the place appointed, where each had promised to keep silence, lest the King should discouer it was not Plexirtus: and there in await had he laied these murtherers, that who ouerliued the other, should by them be dispatched: he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselues by themselues were weakened.
This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beaters, after the death of those worthie brothers, whose loue was
9 no lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo vnto them) striuing who should runne fastest to the goale of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe: cursing their owne hands for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their vnfortunately-spent time in hauing serued so vngrateful a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in hauing beleeued, he could faithfully loue, who did not loue faithfulnes: wishing vs to take heed, how we placed our good wil vpon any other ground, then proofe of vertue: since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor height of benefits could binde a sauage harte ; no man being good to other, that is not good in himself. Then (while any hope was) beseeching vs to leaue the cure of him that besought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by themselues, and vs, no possibilitie, they desired to be ioined; and so embracing and crauing that pardon each of other, which they denied to themselues, they gaue vs a most sorrowfull spectacle of their death; leauing fewe in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the ground and limits of friendship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conueyed to the nexte towne of Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I haue tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to co[n]clude his history, with his owne well-deserued death.
CHAP. 23.
1 Zelmanes griefe for Plexirtus fault. 2 Otaues, and his
Gyants warre on Pontus. 3 Plexirtus endaungered,
needes helpe of the dead brothers. 4 Zelmane thought-
sicke, vnmaskes her selfe. 5 Her dying teares 6 and last
requestes. 7 Musidorus to Pontus, Pyrocles hardly
partes to saue Plexirtus. 8 The sourse and course of his
deaths-doome, 9 stayed by Pyrocles. 10 The combat of
Pontus well ended. 11 The Asian Princes meeting, to
honour the two Greekes.
Bvt then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances; in Daiphantus, that I could not but much
1 marvaile (finding them continew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the cause of strangers (for further I did not conceiue) could so deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame & sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I co[n]ceiued against him, would vtterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoeuer I should know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied; and dayly, and hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorowfulnesse: which oft I sought to learne, & helpe. But she, as fearefull as louing, still concealed it; and so decaying still more and more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoeuer weakenesse took away, pitie seemed to adde: yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Loue.
While we returning againe to embarke our selues for Greece, vnderstood that the mighty Otaues (brother to Barzanes
2 slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred vpo[n] the kingdome of Pontus, partly vpon the pretences he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would reuenge vpon him (whom he knew we loued) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoeuer we were, hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieue him; in spite whereof he doubted not to preuaile, not onely vpon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his co[m]pany two mighty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we slue in the same realme: they hauing bene absent at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his seruice, hating (more then he) both vs, and that King of Pontus. We therefore withall speede went thetherwarde, but by the way this fell out, which whensoeuer I remember without sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie.
Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to
3 waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus & Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne vnto the messenger; who (being their seruaunt and knowing how deerely they loued Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in pre[se]nt daunger of a cruel death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed: we enquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse finde what an vnprofitable treason it had bene vnto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friendes) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.
But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so ouerwhelmed the little
4
remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into deadly soundings; neuer comming to her selfe, but that withall she returned to make most pittifull lamentations; most straunge vnto vs, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as beganne to print death in her eyes, we made al hast possible to conuey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, & she might find in herselfe, that the harbinger of ouer-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she vndoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed co[m]fort therin; and then desiring vs both to come neere her, & that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (euen in palenes) louely lippes, Now or neuer, and neuer indeed, but now it is time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which gaue me leaue to discouer that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles that your page Daiphantus is the vnfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as vnfortunate) louer, and cosen, Palladius, to leaue his fathers court, and co[n]sequently, both him & my Aunt his mother, to loose their liues. For your sake my selfe haue become, of a Princesse a Page: and for your sake haue put off the apparell of a woman, & (if you iudge not more mercifully) modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and the[n] had (as it were) new eyes giue vs to perceue that which before had bene a present stra[n]ger to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, who before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pittie laying her paine vpon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her recouery.
But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyra[n]t that should shortly oppresse her. No, my deere master (said
5 she) I neither hope nor desire to liue. I know you would neuer haue loued me (& with that she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my vnworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I haue take[n], shall to your remembrance, witnesse my loue: and yet this breaking of my harte, before I would discouer my paine, will make you (I hope) think I was not altogether vnmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Master, and that thought shal be my life: and with that, languishingly looking vpon me; And I pray you (said she) euen by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curles, the testimonie of my seruitude) and by the seruice I haue done you (which God knowes hath beene full of loue) thinke of me after my death with kindnes, though ye cannot with loue. And whensoeuer ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your placed affectio[n], if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pitie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manners, with the liuely consideration of her loue, so pearced me, that I, though I had diuerse griefes before, yet me thought I neuer felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I coulde not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time haue chaunged liues with her.
But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) howe largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I
6 may take boldnesse to make some requests vnto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price therof. She shewed great ioy: The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you haue iustly conceiued against him, and for this once succour, him out of the daunger wherin he is: I hope he will amende: and I pray you, whensoeuer you remember him to be the faultie Plexirtus, remember withall that he is Zelmanes father. The second is, that when you come into Greece, you will take vnto your selfe this name (though vnlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shal I be sure, you shall haue cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name may yet liue vpon the earth in so excellent a person: and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your vnluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned. Lstly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to knowe my fortune, till (when you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conueied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitions for such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craued, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, & often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in mine armes she deliuered her pure soule to the purest place: leauing me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could make an honest harte. For I must confesse for true, that if my starres had not wholy reserued me for you, there els perhaps I might haue loued, & (which had bene most strange) begun my loue after death: whereof let it be the lesse marvaile, because somwhat shee did resemble you: though as farre short of your perfectio[n], as her selfe dying, was of her flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her figure into my reme[m]brance, and made my harte as apte to receiue the wounde, as the power of your beauty with vnresistable force to pearce.
But we in wofull (& yet priuat) manner burying her, performed her commandement: & then enquiring of her fathers
7 estate, certainly learned that he was presentlie to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therfore we determined to diuide our selues; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need then immediate succour, and euen readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found vs, giuing vs to vnderstand, that he trusting vpon vs two, had apointed the combat betweene him & vs, against Otaues, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, & be there, where my honour was not onely gaged so far, but (by the straunge working of vniust fortune) I was to leaue the[m] standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I loued, to go saue him whom for iust causes I hated. But my promise giuen, & giuen to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, preuailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus: though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heauy mindes (more careful each of others successe, the[n] of our owne) we parted; I towarde the place, where I vnderstood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Knight, absolutely gouerning a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other soueraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, who he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he fou[n]d him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for reuenge, vsed (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was comming to winne fauour) he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he pursued, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers king-dome; and then neglected his former loue: till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by again placed in Trebisonde, vnderstanding that Artaxia by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then euer, in that pursuit, which being vnderstood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very priuie) repaire thether, giuing him faithfull promise of presente mariage: a thing farre from her thought, hauing faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would neuer marrie any, but some such Prince who woulde giue sure proofe, that by his meanes we were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to iudge hopes) bitte hastely at the baite, and in priuate maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid holde of him, & condemned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and iust. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliuer him to be deuoured by a monstrous beast, of most vgly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre; whom he hauing kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well loued him, as to venture their liues against this beast, for him, if they ouercame, he should be saued: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in the monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrappe therby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power.
I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should haue passed, she would rather haue let her father perishe,
9
"
then me to haue bidden that aduenture. But my word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, as a spurre vnto me; knowing well, that the iorney of high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be deliuered if I were victorious, I vndertooke the combatte: and (to make shorte, excellent Ladie, and not trouble your eares with recounting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from aboue, that without dangerous wounds I slewe that monster, which hundreds durste not attempt: to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order giuen, to haue the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde nobleman so well liked me, that he loued me; onely bewayling, my vertue had beene imployed to saue a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith giuen) he deliuered, and accompanied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if perchance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished.
10 The vertuous Leonatus vnderstanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truthe is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musldorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otaues prisoner. To whom as he gaue his life, so he gotte a noble friend: for so he gaue his worde to be, and he is well knowen to thinke him selfe greater in being subiect to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie.
But thither (vnderstanding of our being there) flocked great multitudes of many great persons, and euen of Princes;
11 especially those, whom we had made beholding vnto vs: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus and Galatia, and Otaues the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawen ether by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge them selues obliged vnto vs, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the world, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not seene so royall an assemblie: where nothing was let passe to doo vs the highest honors, which such persons (who might commaund both purses and inuentions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing vnto vs right royall presents (which we to auoide both vnkindnes, and im-portunitie, liberally receiued,) & not content therewith, would needes accept, as from vs, their crownes, and acknowledge to hold them of vs: with many other excessiue honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe vnto you.
CHAP. 24.
1 The causes and prouisions of the Princes embarking for Ar-
cadia, 2 Plexirtus his treason against them disclosed by
one, 3 attempted by another of his ministers. 4 Sedition and
slaughter in the shippe about it. 5 Their shipwrack by fire.
6 Pyrocles fight with the Captaine, and escape from sea.
7 The amarous concluding the olde, and beginning a newe
storie, both broken of by Miso.
Bvt wee quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Greece-ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I vnderstoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke mee, and was nowe come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to aucthorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore suffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renowmed ouer the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor begger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the hauing in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent iudges, that speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed mouing vs to come by this land, we embarked our selues in the next porte, whether all those Princes (sauing Antiphilus) who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry long from Erona) conueied vs. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who made all thinges so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repe[n]tance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, & vertue in his mouth: so that we who had promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely forgaue, but began to fauour; perswading our selues with a youthfull credulitie, that perchance things were not so euil as we tooke them, & as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truly not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Po[n]tus, would haue come with vs, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, & both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they haue sent whole fleets to guard vs: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leaue that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing vnto us. But so co[m]mitting our selues to the vncertaine discretio[n] of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come vnknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who euen vpon their knees, recommended our safeties to the deuotion of their chiefe desires: among whom none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his vnfaithfulncs) as Plexirtus.
So hauing sailed almost two daies, looking for nothing but when we might looke vpon the land, a graue man (whom we
2 had seene of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as our principall guide) came vnto us, and with a certaine kinde manner, mixt with shame, and repentaunce, began to tell vs, that he had taken such a loue vnto vs (considering our youth and fame) that though he were a seruaunt, and a seruaunt of such trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed vnto him euen those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reueale at this time a most pernitious counsell, then by concealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde vs, that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to haue Artaxia, endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had giuen him order, when we were neere Greece, to frnde some opportunitie to murder vs, bidding him to take vs a sleepe, because he had seene what we could do waking. Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then haue my remembrance (while I liued) poysoned with such a mischiefe: and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safetie. But to one more (said he) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think, laying the cause rather vpon old grudge, then his hope of Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawne loue and pittie into minde) imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand vpon your garde, assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shall see (if it come to the pushe) by me perfourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserued, and from that time would no more disarme our selues, nor the one sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him: so that it delaied the going forwarde of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then prouidence, which made vs so behaue our selues.
But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the shore, soone they saw it was speedily, or not at all to be done.