T H E
COV NT E SS E
O F P E
M B
R O K E S
A R C A D I A,
W R I T T E
N
B Y S I R P H I L I P P E
S I D N E I.
L O N D O N
Printed for
William
Ponsonbie.
Anno Domini, 1590.
T O M
Y
D E AR E LAD I E
A N D S
I S
T E R, T H E C O V N-
T E S S E O F P E
M
B R O K E.
Ere
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.
He
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.
T H
E C
O V N T E S S E OF
P E M B R O K
E S
A R C A D I A W R I T-
T E N B
Y
S I R P H I L I P
S I D N E I.
T H E
F I R S
T B O O K E.
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.
T
was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new apparel
against
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.
Ow
sir (saide they) thus for our selues it is. Wee are in profession but
shepheards,
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
(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
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
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.
Vt 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
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
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,
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
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
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
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.
Hus
much now that I haue tolde you, is nothing more then in effect any
Arcadian
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
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
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
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.
Vt
beeing come to the supping place, one of Kalanders seruaunts
rounded
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
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
alladius
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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.
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.
He 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.
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.
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].
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.
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.
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.
Vt
no waie he sawe he could so much pleasure them, as by leauing the two
friends
alone, who being
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.
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.
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.
Vt
such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if
cheerefulnesse
had bene tediousnesse, and good
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
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.
Hen
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
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.
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,
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
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
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
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,
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
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.
Now 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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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
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.
O
directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots as
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.
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.
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?
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,
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.
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.
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.
Ousin
(saide hee) then began the fatall ouerthrowe of all my libertie, when
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.
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, &
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.
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.
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.
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.
O Gynecia her
selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after
I was
inuited
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.
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
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
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.
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.
Elmane returned
to the Lodge, where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched
by
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
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;
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.
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.
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.
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.
O
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Hus
talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter
subiect to
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.
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
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.
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,
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.
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.
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.
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.
Nd
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
O
more sweete Musidorus (said Zelmane) of these
philosophies; for here
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.
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.
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.
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.
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
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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?
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?
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.