The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia

The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight. Now since the first edition augmented and ended
Arcadia
Sidney, Philip, Sir, 1554-1586.
1593
Approx. 1774 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 244 1-bit group-IV TIFF page images.
Text Creation Partnership,
Ann Arbor, MI ; Oxford (UK) :
2003-01 (EEBO-TCP Phase 1).
A12231
STC 22540
ESTC S111872
99847133
99847133
12151
This keyboarded and encoded edition of the
work described above is co-owned by the institutions
providing financial support to the Early English Books
Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is
available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative
Commons 0 1.0 Universal. The text can be copied,
modified, distributed and performed, even for
commercial purposes, all without asking permission.
Early English books online.
(EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. A12231)
Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 12151)
Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books, 1475-1640 ; 470:9)
The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia. Written by Sir Philip Sidney Knight. Now since the first edition augmented and ended
Arcadia
Sidney, Philip, Sir, 1554-1586.
Sanford, Hugh, d. 1607.
[4], 243 leaves
Printed [by John Windet] for William Ponsonbie,
London :
Anno Domini. 1593.
Editor's note "To the reader" signed: H.S., i.e. Hugh Sanford.
Partly in verse.
Printer's name from STC.
The first leaf is blank.
Reproduction of the original in the Henry E. Huntington Library and Art Gallery.
Created by converting TCP files to TEI P5 using tcp2tei.xsl,
TEI @ Oxford.
EEBO-TCP is a partnership between the Universities of Michigan and Oxford and the publisher ProQuest to create accurately transcribed and encoded texts based on the image sets published by ProQuest via their Early English Books Online (EEBO) database (http://eebo.chadwyck.com). The general aim of EEBO-TCP is to encode one copy (usually the first edition) of every monographic English-language title published between 1473 and 1700 available in EEBO.
EEBO-TCP aimed to produce large quantities of textual data within the usual project restraints of time and funding, and therefore chose to create diplomatic transcriptions (as opposed to critical editions) with light-touch, mainly structural encoding based on the Text Encoding Initiative (http://www.tei-c.org).
The EEBO-TCP project was divided into two phases. The 25,363 texts created during Phase 1 of the project have been released into the public domain as of 1 January 2015. Anyone can now take and use these texts for their own purposes, but we respectfully request that due credit and attribution is given to their original source.
Users should be aware of the process of creating the TCP texts, and therefore of any assumptions that can be made about the data.
Text selection was based on the New Cambridge Bibliography of English Literature (NCBEL). If an author (or for an anonymous work, the title) appears in NCBEL, then their works are eligible for inclusion. Selection was intended to range over a wide variety of subject areas, to reflect the true nature of the print record of the period. In general, first editions of a works in English were prioritized, although there are a number of works in other languages, notably Latin and Welsh, included and sometimes a second or later edition of a work was chosen if there was a compelling reason to do so.
Image sets were sent to external keying companies for transcription and basic encoding. Quality assurance was then carried out by editorial teams in Oxford and Michigan. 5% (or 5 pages, whichever is the greater) of each text was proofread for accuracy and those which did not meet QA standards were returned to the keyers to be redone. After proofreading, the encoding was enhanced and/or corrected and characters marked as illegible were corrected where possible up to a limit of 100 instances per text. Any remaining illegibles were encoded as s. Understanding these processes should make clear that, while the overall quality of TCP data is very good, some errors will remain and some readable characters will be marked as illegible. Users should bear in mind that in all likelihood such instances will never have been looked at by a TCP editor.
The texts were encoded and linked to page images in accordance with level 4 of the TEI in Libraries guidelines.
Copies of the texts have been issued variously as SGML (TCP schema; ASCII text with mnemonic sdata character entities); displayable XML (TCP schema; characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or text strings within braces); or lossless XML (TEI P5, characters represented either as UTF-8 Unicode or TEI g elements).
Keying and markup guidelines are available at the Text Creation Partnership web site.
eng
2000-00
TCPAssigned for keying and markup
2001-00
SPi GlobalKeyed and coded from ProQuest page images
2001-00
TCP Staff (Michigan)Sampled and proofread
2001-09
SPi GlobalRekeyed and resubmitted
2002-08
John LattaSampled and proofread
2002-08
John LattaText and markup reviewed and edited
2002-10
pfsBatch review (QC) and XML conversion
THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
WRITTEN BY SIR Philip Sidney Knight.
NOW SINCE THE FIRST EDItion augmented and ended.
LONDON. Printed for William Ponsonbie. Anno Domini. 1593.
TO MY DEARE LADY AND SISTER, THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKE.
HEre now haue you (most deare, and most worthye to bee most deare Lady) this idle worke of mine: which I feare (like the Spiders webbe) will be thought fitter to be swept away, then worne to any other purpose. For my part, in very trueth (as the cruell fathers among the Greekes, were woont to doe to the babes they would not foster) I could well finde in my heart, to cast out in some desert of forgetfulnesse this childe, which I am loath to father. But you desired me to doe it, and your desire, to my heart is an absolute commaundement. Now, it is done onely for you, only to you: if you keepe it to your selfe, or to such friends, who will weigh errors in the ballance 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 indeed, for seuerer eies it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflingly handled. Your deare selfe can best witnes the manner,
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 wel staied as I would it were, (and shall be when God will) hauing many many fancies begotten in it, if it had not beene in some way deliuered, woulde haue growen a monster, and more sorie might I be that they came in, then that they gat out. But his chiefe safety, shall bee the not walking abroade; and his chiefe protection, the bearing the liuery of your name; which (if much much good will doe not deceiue me) is worthie to be a sanctuarie for a greater offender. This say I, because I know the vertue so; and this say I, because it may be euer so, or to say better, because it will be euer so. Reade it then at your idle times, and the follies your good iudgement will finde in it, blame not, but laugh at. And so, looking for no better stuffe, then, as in a Haberdashers shoppe, glasses, or feathers, you will continue to loue the writer, who doth exceedingly loue you, and moste moste heartilie praies you may long liue, to be a principall ornament to the family of the Sidneis.
Your louing brother. Philip Sidney.
To the Reader.
THE disfigured face, gentle Reader, wherewith this worke not long since appeared to the common view, moued that noble Lady, to whose Honour consecrated, to whose protection it was committed, to take in hand the wiping away those spottes wherewith the beauties therof were vnworthely blemished. But as often in repairing a ruinous house, the mending of some olde part occasioneth the making of some new: so here her honourable labour begonne in correcting the faults, ended in supplying the defectes; by the view of what was ill done guided to the consideration of what was not done. Which part with what aduise entred into, with what successe it hath beene passed through, most by her doing, all by her directing, if they may be entreated not to define, which are vnfurnisht of meanes to discerne, the rest (it is hoped) will fauourably censure. But this they shall, for theyr better satisfaction, vnderstand, that though they finde not here what might be expected, they may finde neuerthelesse as much as was intended, the conclusion, not the perfection of Arcadia: and that no further then the Authours own writings, or knowen determinations could direct. Whereof who sees not the reason, must consider there may be reason which hee sees not. Albeit I
dare affirme hee either sees, or from wiser iudgements then his owne may heare, that Sir Philip Sidneies writings can no more be perfected without Sir Philip Sidney, then Apelles pictures without Apelles. There are that thinke the contrary: and no wonder. Neuer was Arcadia free from the comber of such Cattell. To vs, say they, the pastures are not pleasaunt: and as for the flowers, such as we light on we take no delight in, but the greater part growe not within our reach. Poore soules! what talke they of flowers? They are Roses, not flowers, must doe them good, which if they finde not here, they shall doe well to go feed elswhere: Any place will better like them: For without Arcadia nothing growes in more plenty, then Lettuce sutable to their Lippes, If it be true that likenes is a great cause of liking, and that contraries, inferre contrary consequences: then is it true, that the wortheles Reader can neuer worthely esteeme of so worthye a writing: and as true, that the noble, the wise, the vertuous, the curteous, as many as haue had any acquaintaunce with true learning and knowledge, will with all loue and dearenesse entertaine it, as well for affinity with themselues, as being child to such a father. Whom albeit it do not exactly and in euery lineament represent; yet considering the fathers vntimely death preuented the timely birth of the childe, it may happily seeme a thanke-woorthy labour, that the defects being so few, so small, and in no principall part, yet the greatest vnlikenes is rather in defect then in deformity. But howsoeuer it is, it is now by more then one interest The Countesse of Pembrokes Arcadia: done, as it was, for her: as it is, by her. Neither shall these pains be the last (if no vnexpected accident cut off her determination) which the euerlasting loue of her excellent brother, will make her consecrate to his memory.
H. S.
THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA VVRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEI. THE FIRST BOOKE.
IT was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new aparrel against the approch of her louer, and that the Sun running a most euen 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, & setting first down in his darkened countenance a dolefull copie of what he would speake: O my Claius, saide hee, hether we are now come to pay the rent, for which we are so called vnto by ouer-busie Remembrance, Remembrance, restlesse Remembrance, which claymes not only this dutie of vs, but for it will haue vs forget our selues. I pray you when we were amid our flocke, and that of other shepheardes some were running after their sheep strayed beyond their boundes, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble vpon the short and sweete grasse, some medicining their sicke ewes, some setting a bell for an ensigne of a sheepish squadron, some with more leasure inuenting new games of exercising their bodies and sporting their wits: did Remembrance graunt 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 vpon this place, where wee last (alas that the word last should so long last) did graze our eyes vpon her euer florishing 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 wool 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? Well then, Remembraunce commaunded, we obeyed, and here we find, that as our remembrance
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 disburdned: and as for thee, poore Claius, when thou wentst to helpe 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, warre readie to fal down thy selfe. There she sate, vouchsafing my cloake (then most gorgeous) vnder her: at yonder rising of the ground shee turned her selfe, looking backe toward her woonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much sorrow in her eyes, the lightsomnes wherof had yet so natural a cherefulnesse, as it made euen sorrow seeme to smile; at that turning shee spake to vs all, opening the cherrie of her lips, and 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 shee put her foote into the boate, at that instant as it were diuiding her heauenly beautie, betweene the Earth and the Sea. But when she was imbarked, did you not marke how the windes whistled, and the seas daunst for ioy, how the sailes did swell with pride, and all because they had Vrania? O Vrania, blessed be thou Vrania, the sweetest fairnesse and fairest sweetnesse: with that word 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 cal our thoughtes to appeare at the court of affection, held by that racking steward, Remembrance? Aswell may sheepe forget to feare when they spie woolues, as we can misse such fancies, when we 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 lowe 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 praysed 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 coms 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 be matched with the flocke of vnspeakeable vertues laid vp delightfully in that best builded folde. But in deede as we can better consider the sunnes beautie, by marking how he guildes these waters, and mountaines then 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 (beeing silly ignorant shepheards) raise
vp our thoughts aboue the ordinary leuell of the worlde, so as great clearkes doe 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 two 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 frindship between riuals, and beautie taught the beholders chastitie? He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bad him stay, and looke: and so they both perceaued a thinge 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 bee; till it was cast vp euen hard before them: 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 frendes 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 be but a beere to carrie him a land to his Sepulchre. So drew they vp a young man of so goodly shape, and well pleasing fauour, that one would thinke death had in him a louely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakednes was to him an apparrell. 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 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, and warmth the companion of liuing. At length opening his eyes, he gaue a great groane, (a dolefull note but a pleasaunt dittie) for by that, they founde not onely life, but strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their charitable office, vntill (his spirits being well returned,) he (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 destruction? therewithall hee offered wilfully to cast himselfe againe into the sea: a strange sight to the shepheards, to whom it seemed, that beefore being in apparance dead had yet saued his life, and now comming to his life, should be a cause to procure his death; but they ranne vnto him, and pulling him backe, (then to feeble for them) by force stickled that vnnaturall fray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what such right haue you in me, as not to suffer me to doe with my selfe what I list? and what pollicie haue you to bestowe a benefite where it is counted an iniury? They hearing him speake in Greeke (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 sorrow; tolde him 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 cōforted by his own proof, who had lately escaped as apparant danger as any might be. No, no (said he) it is not for me to attend so high a blissefullnes: but since you take care of me I pray you find meās that some Bark may be prouided, that will go out of the hauen, that if it be possible wee maye find the bodie farre farre too precious a food for fishes: and for the hire (said he) I haue within this casket, of value sufficient to content them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, and hauing agreeed with him, and prouided some apparrell 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 driuen both him and his friend rather to committe themselues to the cold mercie of the sea, than 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 bee met withall. They steared therefore as neere thether-ward as they cold: but when they came so neere as their eies were ful masters of the obiect, they saw a sight ful 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 than 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 thinges were a number of dead bodies, which likewise did not only testifie both elements violence, but that the chiefe violence was growen of humane inhumanitie: for their bodies were full of grisly wounds, and their bloud had (as it were) filled the wrinckles of the seas visage: which it seemed the sea woulde not wash away, that it might witnes it is not alwaies his fault, when wee condemne his cruletie. 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 the water.
But a litle way off they saw the mast, who
•
e proude height now lay along; like a widdow hauing lost her make of whom she held her honor: but vpon the mast they saw a yong man (at least if hee were a man) bearing shew of about 18. yeares of age, who sate (as on horseback) hauing nothing vpon him but his shirt, which beeing wrought with blew silke and golde; had a kinde of resemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then neare his Westerne home) did shote some of his beames. His haire (which the young men of Greece vsed to weare very long) was stirred vp and downe with the wind, which seemed to haue a sporte 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 and 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, and their amasement such superstition, 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 saw, though he were almost as much rauished with ioy, as they with astonishment, he lept to the Mariner, and tooke the corde 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 do 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 alreadie come vpon the staies; when one of the saylers discried a Galley which came with sayles and oares directlie in the chase of them; and
streight perceaued it was a wel knowne Pirate, who hunted not only for goodes but for bodies of men, which he imployed eyther to be his Galley slaues, or to sell at the best market. Which when the Maister vnderstoode, he commaunded forthwith to set on al the canuasse they could, and flie homeward, leauing in that sort poore
Pyrocles so neere to be reskewed. But what did not Musidorus saye? what did hee not offer to perswade them to venture the fight? But feare stāding at the gates of their eares, put backe all perswasions: so that he had nothing wherewith to accompanie Pyrocles, but his eyes; nor to succour him, but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long looke that way, he saw the Galley leaue the pursuite of them, and turne to take vp the spoiles of the other wracke: and lastly he might well see them lift vp the yong man; and alas (saide hee to himselfe) deere Pyrocles shall that bodie of thine be enchained? shal those victorious hāds of thine be cōmaunded to base offices? shal vertue becōe a slaue to those that be slaues to viciousnes? Alas, better had it bene thou hadst ended nobly thy noble daies: what death is so euil as vnworthy seruitude? But that opinion soone ceased when he sawe the gallie setting vpon an other shippe, 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 he 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 being as ful of sorrow for beyng vnable to doe any thing, as voide of counsel how to doe anything, besides, that sicknesse grew something vpon him, the honest shepheards Strephon and Claius (who being themselues true friends, 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 he knew not where to finde them.
Now sir (saide they) thus for our selues it is. We are in profession but shepheards, and in this countrie of Laconia little better then straungers, and therefore neither in skill, nor abilitie of power greatly to stead you. But what wee can present vnto you is this: Arcadia, of which countrie we 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 onely in his owne Arcadia but in all these countries of Peloponnesus: & (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 sweete to his eare as deserued thanks. To him we wil bring you, and there you may recouer againe your health, without which you cannot bee able to make any diligent search for your friend: and therefore you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort of curtesie, and ease of wise counsell shall not be wanting.
Musidorus (who besides he w
•
s meerly vnacquainted in the countrie had his wits astonished with sorrow) gaue easie consent to that, from which hee savve no reason to disagree: and therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestovved vpon
them) they tooke their iourney together through Laconia; Claius and Strephon by course carying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his countenance euident markes of a sorovvful-mind supported vvith a vveake bodie, vvhich they perceiuing, and knovving that the violence of sorovv is not at the first to be striuen vvithall: (being like a mighty beast, soner tamed vvith follovving, than ouerthrovven by vvithstanding) they gaue vvay vnto it for that day and the next; neuer troubling him, either vvith asking questions, or finding fault vvith his melancholie, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their ovvne and other folks misfortunes. Which speeches, though they had not a liuely entrāce to his sences shut vp in sorow, yet like one halfe a sleepe he tooke hold of much of the matters spoken vnto him, so as a man may say, ere sorow was a ware
•
they made his thoughts beare away somthing els besid his own sorow, which wrought so in him, that at lēgth he grew content to marke their speeches, then to maruell at such wit in shepheardes, after to like their company, and lastly to vouchsafe conference: so that the third day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses and violets in the heauenly floore against the comming of the Sun, the nightingales (striuing one with the other which coulde in most dainty variety recount their wrong caused sorow) made them put of their sleep, and rising from vnder a tree (which that night had bine their pauilion) they went on their iorney, which by and by welcomed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soile of Laconia) with delightfull prospects. There were hilles which garnished their proud heights with stately trees: humble valleis, whose base estate seemed comforted with refreshing of siluer riuers: medowes, enameld with all sortes of eypleasing floures: thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so too by the cheerefull disposition of many wel-tuned birds: ech pasture stored with sheep feeding with sober security, while the prety lambes with bleting oratory craued the dams comfort: here a shepheards boy piping, as though he should neuer be olde: there a yong shepherdesse knitting, and withall singing, and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to worke, and her hands kept time to her voices musick. As for the houses of the country (for many houses came vnder their eye) they were all scattered, no two being one by th'other, and yet not so far off as that it barred mutuall succour: a shew, as it were, of an accompanable solitarines, & of a ciuil wildnes. I pray you (said Musidorus, then first vnsealing his long silent lips) what countreyes be these we passe through, which are so diuers in shewe, the one wanting no store, th'other hauing no store but of want.
The country (answered Claius) where you were cast a shore, and 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 and 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 founde 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 foot) is Arcadia: & euen hard by is the house of Kalander whether we lead you: this country being thus decked with peace, & (the child 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 saide Musidorus, made you venter to leaue this sweet life, and put your selfe in yonder vnpleasant and dangerous realme? Guarded with pouertie (answered Strephon) and 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 knowledge is darkenes: geue vs leaue to know somthing of you, and of the yong man you so much lament, that at least we may be the better instructed to enforme Kalander, and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agrement betwene Pyrocles & him to alter their names) answered, that he called himselfe Palladius, and his friend Daiphantus; but till I haue him againe (saide 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, & the nature of the ground) all such necessarie additions to a greate house, as might well shewe, Kalander knewe that prouision is the foundation of hospitalitie, and thrift the fewel of magnificence. The house it selfe was built of faire and strong stone, not affecting so much any extraordinarie 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 cheefly heeded, so the other not neglected; eache place handsome without curiositie, and homely without lothsomnes: not so dainty as not to be trode on, nor yet slubbered vp with good felowshippe: all more lasting than 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 apparel, & seruiceable in behauiour, testifiing euen in their countenaunces, that their maister tooke aswell care to be serued, as of them that did serue. One of them was forth-with readie to wellcome the shepheards, as men, who though they were poore, their maister greatly fauoured: & vnderstanding by them, that the young man with thē was to be much accounted of, for that they had sene tokens of more than commō greatnes, hovv so euer novv eclipsed vvith fortune: He ranne to his maister vvho came presentlie foorth, and pleasantly vvelcomming the shepheardes but especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon priuately tolde him all vvhat he knevv of him, and particularly that he found this stranger vvas loath to be knovven.
Noe saide Kalander (speaking alowd) I am no herald to enquire of mens pedegrees, it sufficeth me if I know their vertues: which (if this young mans face bee not a false witnes) doe better apparrell his minde, then you haue done his body. While he was thus speaking, there came a boy in shew like a Marchants 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 guest and smiled at the matter) & 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, and obligation he accounted himself tied in vnto them: and therfore, they deliuering his chest vnto him, he opened it, and would haue presented them with two very rich Iewels, but they absolutelie refused thē, telling him that they were more then enough rewarded
in the knowing of him, and without harkening vnto a replie (like men whose hartes 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, hee deliuered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most precious stones, gorgeously and cunningly set in diuerse manners, desiring him hee would keep those trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was needfull, to finde out and redeeme a yong 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 commodious lodging in his house: where beeing possest with an extreeme burning feuer, he continued some while with no great hope of life: but youth at length got the victorie of sicknesse, so that in sixe weeks 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 he omit nothing which hee thought might eyther profite or gratifie Palladius.
For hauing found in him (besides his bodily giftes beyond the degree of Admiration) by daily discourses which he delighted him selfe to haue with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a pearcing wit quite voide of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a hart of courtesie, an eloquence as sweet in the vttering, as slowe to come to the vttering, a behauiour so noble, as gaue a maiestie to aduersitie: and all in a man whose age could not be aboue one and twenty yeares) the good olde man was euē enamoured with a fatherly loue towards him; or rather became his seruaunt by the bondes such vertue laid vpon him; once he acknowledged him selfe so to be, by the badge of diligent attendance.
But Palladius hauing gotten his health, and onely staying there to bee in place, vvhere he might heare answere of the shippes set foorth, Kalander one after noone led him abroad to a well arayed ground he had behind his house, which hee thought to shew him before his going, as the place himself more thē in any other delighted. the backside of the house was neither field, gardē, nor orchard; or rather it was both field garden, and orchard: for as soone as the descending of the stayres had deliuered them downe, they came into a place cunningly 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, and behinde the thickets againe newe beddes of flowers, which beeing vnder the trees, the trees were to them a Pauilion, and they to the trees a mosaicall 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 afaire 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 blewe veines of the marble were framed in fitte places, to set foorth the beautifull veines of her bodie. At her brest shee had her babe
AEneas, who seemed (hauing begun to sucke) to leaue that, to looke vpon her fayre eyes, which smiled at the babes follie, meane while the breast runing. Hard by was a house of pleasure built for a Sommer retiring place, whether Kalander leading him, he found a square roome full of delightfull pictures, made by the moste excellent workeman of Greece. There was Diana when Acteon sawe her bathing, in whose cheekes the painter had set such a colour, as was mixt betweene shame and disdaine: and one of her foolish Nymphes, who weeping, and with all 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 onely 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 excellent beautie; and more excellent would haue bene deemed, but that there stood betwene them a yong maid, whose wonderfulnesse tooke away all beautie from her, but that which it might seeme shee gaue her backe againe by her very shadow. And such difference (being knowne that it did in deed counterfeit a person liuing) was there betweene her and all 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 inquisitiuenes an vncomely guest, he could not choose but aske who shee was, that bearing shewe of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of inuention. Kalander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the yonger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were contained in that Table: the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the young Ladie, vvho stood vvatched by an ouer-curious eye of her parents: and that he vvould also haue dravvne her eldest sister, esteemed her match for beautie, in her shepheardish attire; but that the rude clovvne her gardian vvould not suffer it: nether durst he aske leaue of the Prince for feare of suspition. Palladius perceaued that the matter vvas vvrapt vp in some secresie, and therfore vvould for modestie demaund no further: but yet his countenance could not but vvith dumme Eloquence desire it: Which Kalander perceauing, vvell said he, my deere guest, I knovv your minde, and I vvill satisfie it: neither vvill I doo it like a niggardly ansvverer, going no further than the boundes of the question, but I vvill discouer vnto you, asvvell that vvherein my knovvledge is common vvith others, as that vvhich by extraordinarie meanes is deliuered vnto me: knovving so much in you (though not long acquainted) that I shal find your eares faithfull treasurers. So then sitting downe in tvvo chaires, and sometimes casting his eye to the picture, hee thus spake.
This countrie Arcadia among all the prouinces of Greece, hath euer beene had in singular reputation: partly for the svveetnesse of the ayre, and other naturall benefites, but principally for the vvell tempered minds of the people, vvho (finding that the shining title of glorie so much affected by other natiōs, doth in deed helpe little to the happinesse of life) are the onely people, vvhich as by their Iustice and prouidence geue neither cause nor hope to their neighbours to annoy them, so are they not sturred vvith false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small revvard for the vvasting of their ovvne liuès in rauening, that their posteritie should long after saie, they had done so. Euen the Muses seeme to approue their good determination, by chosing this countrie for their cheife repairing place, and by bestovving their perfecons
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 mindes of the former princes had set downe good lawes, and the well bringing vp of the people doth serue as a most sure bond to hold them. But to be plaine with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous loue of his people, wherein he doth not onely passe all his owne fore-goers, but as I thinke all 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 he notable in those which stirre affection, as trueth of word, 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 reasōable creatures, that we may think they were borne to shewe, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, howe 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 receiue the worde of more) more sweetnesse in Philoclea, but more maiestie in Pamela: mee thought loue plaide in Philocleas eyes, and threatned in Pamelas: mee 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 semes 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 hope good manners. Pamela of high thoughts, who auoides not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to bee 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 bee 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 short space he brake vp his court, and retired himselfe, his wife, and children into a certaine Forrest hereby, which he calleth his desert, wherein (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certaine persons of meane calling, who do all houshold seruices,) he hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them him selfe 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 bee straunge, yet not so straunge, as the course hee hath taken
with the princesse Pamela, whom he 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 of Mopsa, in whom no witt can deuise anie thing wherein they may 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 apparrel, euen as I would wish him: Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that onely her face and her splay-foote haue made her accused for a witch; only one good point she hath, that she obserues
decorum, hauing a froward minde in a wretched body. Betweene these two personages (who neuer agreed in any humor, but in disagreeing) is issued foorth mistresse Mopsa, a fitte woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set foorth her praises in verse, I wil onely repeate them, and spare mine owne tongue, since she goes for a woman. The 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 shew?
Whose vertues strange, & beauties such, as no mā them may know
Thus shrewdly burdned thē, how cā my Muse escape?
The gods must helpe, and pretious things must serue to shew her shape.
Like great God Saturn faíre, and like faire Venus chaste:
As smooth as Pan, as Iuno milde, like goddesse Iris faste.
With Cupid she fore-sees, and goes god Vulcans pace:
And for a tast of all these gif
•
s, she steales god Momus grace,
Her forhead iacinth like, her cheekes of opall hue,
Her twinkling eies bedeckt with pearle, her lips as Saphir blew:
Her haire like Crapal-stone; her mouth O heauenly wide;
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 thinks you should imagine that I rather faine some pleasant deuise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his owne wits) could possibly make so vnworthie a choise. 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 hee hunted, where meeting this fellow, and asking him the way; and so falling into other questions, he found some of his answeres (as a dog sure if he could speake, had wit enough to describe his kennell) not vnsensible, and all vttered with such rudenes, which he interpreted 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 taken the Princes minde, but that there were straight reasons to confirme the Princes doing, and shadowes of vertues found for Dametas. His silence grew wit, his bluntnesse integritie, his beastly ignorance vertuous simplicitie: and 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, hee liked him more and more, and thus hauing first giuen him the office of principall heardman, lastly, since he tooke this strange determination, hee 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 weare a good foole in a chamber, he might bee allowed it now in a comedie: So as I doubt mee (I feare me in deede) my master will in the end (with his cost) finde, that his office is not 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 greefe I conceue to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestowe more words, then I confesse so base a subiect deserueth.
Thus much now that I haue tolde you, is nothing more then in effect any Arcadian knows. But what moued him to this strange solitarines hath bin imparted (as I thinke) but to one person liuing. My selfe can coniecture and in deede more then 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 coppie which hee had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a windowe, 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 breake his dutie 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 worthy so to be: for, there liues no man, whose excellent witte more simplye imbraseth integritie, beesides 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 all appetites, or with an obstinate austeritie looking to that they fansie good, in effect neglect the Princes person. This then being the man, whome 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 hee had there receaued: whereunto he wrote this answere.
Philanax his letter to Basilius.
Most redouted and 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 preuailed) should haue been at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in quietnes; I would then haue saide, that wisdome and vertue be the only destinies appointed to man to follow, whence wee ought to seeke all our knowledge, since they be such guides as cannot faile; which, besides their inwarde comfort, do lead so direct
a way of proceeding, as either prosperitie must ensue; or, if the wickednes of the world should oppresse, it can neuer be said, that euil happeneth to him, who falles accompanied with vertue: I would then haue said, the heauenly powers to be reuerenced, and not serched into; & their mercies rather by praiers to be sought, then their hidden councels by curiositie. These kinds of soothsayings (since they haue left vs in ourselues 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 weakenes too much to remember what should haue beene done. and that your commandemēt stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most deare Lord) with humble boldnes say, that the manner of your determination doth in no sorte better please me, then the cause of your going. These thirtie yeares you haue so gouerned this Region, that nether your Subiectes haue wanted iustice in you, nor you obedience in them; & your neighbours haue found you so hurtlesly strong, that they though it better to rest in your friendshippe, then make new trial 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 encōber your happines: vvhy should you novv seeke nevve courses, since your ovvne ensample comforts you to continue, and that it is to me most certaine (though it please you not to tell me the very vvords of the Oracle) that yet no destinie, nor inflvence vvhatsoeuer, can bring mans vvit to a higher point, then vvisdome and goodnes? vvhy should you depriue your selfe of gouernment, for feare of loosing your gouernmēt? like one that should kil him selfe
•
or feare of death? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accoūted of, arm vp your courage yt more against it: for vvho vvil sticke to him that abandones him selfe; let your subiects 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. Nowe 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 keepe them both vnmaried; &, as it weare. to kil the ioy of posteritie, which in your time you may inioye: moued perchance by a misunderstoode Oracle: what shall I saye, if the affection of a father to his owne children, cannot plead sufficiently against such fancies? once certaine it is, the God which is 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 hetherto such, as hath beene most fit to restraine all euil: geuing there minds vertuous delightes, and not greeuing them for want of wel-ruled libertie. Now to fal to a sodain straightning them, what can it do 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 please a bird? or whether a dogge growe not fiercer with tying? what doth ielousie, but stirre vp the minde to thinke, what it is from which they are restrayned? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men vse to hide, for the aptnesse they haue to cach mans fancies: and the thoughtes once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keepe those thoughts from accomplishment, then it had beene beefore to haue kept the minde (which beeing the cheefe parte by this meanes is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending
so principall 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 selfe 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 vnassaied: 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 drawen me; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hills, or like a poore passenger that may spie a rock, so humbly submit to your gratious consideration, beseeching you againe, to stand wholy vpon your owne vertue, as the surest way to maintaine you in that you are, and to auoid 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 mansiōn 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 pointes the oracle was, in faith I know not: nether (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he him selfe distinctly knew. But this experience shewes vs, that Basilius iudgement, corrupted with a princes fortune, hath rather hard then followed the wise (as I take it) councell of Philanax. For hauing left the sterne of his gouernment, with much amazement to the people, among whom many strange bruits are receiued for currant, and with some apparance of danger in respect of the valiant Amphialus his nephew, & much enuy in the ambitious number of the Nobilitie against Philanax, to see Philanax so aduanced, though (to speake simply) he deserue more then as many of vs as there be in Arcadia: the prince him selfe hath hidden his head, in such sort as I tolde you, not sticking plainly to confesse, that he meanes not (while he breathes) that his daughters shall haue any husbād, but keepe thē thus solitary with him: weher he gius no other body leaue to visit him at anytime but a certaine priest, who being excellent in poetrie, he makes him write out such thinges as he best likes, he being no les delightfull in conuersation, then needfull for deuotiō. &, about twēty specified shepheards, in whō some (for exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreation.
And now you know as much as my selfe: 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 knowledge being the onely thing whereof we poore olde 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 onely by the children that come of him, but by speaches and writings recommended to the memorie of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I will 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 faile not) doo I see in you, which makes me both loue and trust you. Neuer may he be olde, answered Palladius, that doth not reuerence that age, whose heauines, if it waie doune 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 wisedome makes them willing to profite others. And that haue I receiued of you, neuer to be forgotten, but with vngratefulnes.
But among many strange conceits you told mee, which haue shewed effectes 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, & 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 shepheardes as Homer speakes of, that be gouernors of peoples, then such senatours who hold their councell in a sheepecoate: for them two (said Kalander) especially Claius, they are beeyond 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, which hath indewed their thoughtes (saie they) with such a strength.
But certainely, all the people of this countrie from high to lowe, is giuen to those sportes of the vvitte, so as you would vvonder to heare hovv soone euen children vvill begin to versifie. Once ordinary it is among the meanest sorte, to make Songes and Dialogues in meeter, either loue vvhetting their braine, or longe peace hauing begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but the Clowne Dametas will stumble sometimes vpon some songes that might become a better braine: but no sorte of people so excellent in that kind as the pastors; for their liuing standing but vppon 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 either them selues looke, or their children giue dayly attendance. And then truly, 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 pretily it will deliuer out, sometimes ioyes, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalenginges one of the other, sometimes vnder hidden formes vttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deale with. Then haue they most commonly one, who iudgeth the Price to the best doer, of which they are no lesse glad, 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 rudnesse of an vnthought-on songe. Nowe the choise of all (as you may well thinke) either for goodnes of voice, or plesantnes of wit, the Prince hath: among whome also there are two or three strangers, whom inwarde melancholies hauing made weery of the worldes eyes, haue come to spend their liues among the countrie people of Arcadia; & their conuersation being wel approued, the Prince vouchsafeth them his presence, and not onely by looking on, but by great curtesie 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 sometimes hearing them; the blame-worthinesse is, that to heare them, he rather goes to solitarinesse, then makes them come to companie. Nether doe I accuse my maister for aduancing a countriman, as Dametas is, since God forbid, but where worthynesse is (as truely it is among diuers of that fellowship) any outward lownesse should hinder the hiest raysing, but that he would needs make election of one, the basenesse of whose minde is such, that it sinckes a thousand degrees lower, then the basest bodie coulde carrie the most base fortune: which although it might be answered for the prince, that it is rather a trust he hath in his simple plainnesse, then any great aduancement, being but chiefe heardman:
yet all honest hartes feele, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond al aduancement. But I am euer too long vppon him, when he crosseth the waye of my speache, and by the shadovve of yonder tovver, I see it is a fitter time, vvith our supper to pay the duties we owe to our stomacks, then to break the aire with my idle discourses: And more witte I might haue learned of Homer (whom 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 already been more fed to his liking, thē he could be by the skillfullest trenchermen of Media.
But being come to the supping place, one of Kalāders seruants roūded in his eare; at which (his colour chaunging) he retired himselfe into his chamber; commaunding his men diligently to waite vpon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some necessary busines he had presently to dispatch. Which they accordingly did, for some fewe daies forcing thēselues to let no change appeare, but though they framed their countenaunces neuer so cunningly, Palladius perceaued there was some ill-pleasing accident fallen out. Wherupon, 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 bee at a battaile, which was to bee fought betweene the Gentlemenne of Lacedaemon and the Helots: who winning the victorie, he was there made prisoner, going to deliuer a friend of his taken prisoner by the Helots; that the poore young Gentleman had offered great raunsome for his life: but that the hate those paysaunts conceaued agaynst all Gentlemen was such, that euerye houre hee was to looke for nothinge, but some cruell death: which hether-vnto had onelye 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 abundance of teares did not seeme sufficiently to witnesse it, hee was alone retyred, tearing his bearde and hayre, and cursing his olde age, that had not made his graue to stoppe his eares from such aduertisementes: but that his faithfull seruantes had written in his name to all his friendes followers, and tennants (Philanax the gonernour refusing to deale in it as a priuate cause, but yet geuing leaue to seeke their best redresse, so as they, wronged not the state of Lacedaemon) of whom there were nowe gathered vpon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spende their liues by any way, to redeeme or reuenge Clitophon. Now sir (saide hee) this is my maysters nature, though his grief be such, as to liue is a griefe vnto him, & that euen his reason is darkned with sorrow; yet the lawes of hospitalitie (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 heart torne in peeces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalanders noble behauiour, kindenesse for his respect to him-warde, and desire to finde some remedie, beesides the image of his deerest friend Daiphantus, whom he iudged to suffer eyther alike or a worse fortune. Therefore rising from the boorde, hee desired the stewarde to tell
him particularly, the ground and euent of this accident, because by knowledge of many circumstances, there might perhaps some waie of helpe be opened. Whereunto the Steward easilie in this sorte condiscended.
My Lorde (said he) when our good king Basilius, with better successe then expectation, tooke to wife (euen in his more then decaing yeares) the faire younge Princes Gynccia; there came with her a young Lord, cousin german to her selfe, named Argalus, led hether, partly with the loue and honour of his noble kinswoman, partlie with the humour of youth, which euer thinkes that good, whose goodnes hee sees not: & in this court he receiued so good increase of knowledge, that after some years spēt, 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 glorie: friendly, without factiousnes: valiaunt, soe as for my part I thincke the earth hath no manne that hath done more heroicall actes then hee; howsoeuer now of late the same flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long doone of our noble prince Amphialus: who indeed, in our partes is onely accounted likely to match him: but I say for my parte, I thinke no man for valour of minde, and habilitie of bodie to be preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant as he neuer durst doe 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 draughte 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 hard wrested constructions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that worke in him, which hath made both him, and it selfe in him, ouer all this countrie famous. My maisters sonne Chlitophon (whose losse giues the cause to this discourse, and yet giues me cause to beginne with Argalus.
since his losse proceedes from Argalus) being 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 likeing and friendlines, as hath brought foorth the effectes which you shall heare. About two years 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 fairer, if it be not Helena queene of Corinth and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairenesse much the fairer, was, that it was but a faire embassadour of a most faire minde, full of wit, and a wit which deliteth more to iudge it selfe, then to shew it selfe: herspeech being as rare as pretious; her silence without fullennesle; her modestie without affectation; her shamefastnes without ignorance: in summe, one, that to praise well, one must first set downe with himselfe, what it is to be excellent: for so shee 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 alwayes crosse with reason: to beshorte, it did so in deed. They loued, though for a while the fire therof (hopes wings being cut of) were blowē by the bellows of dispaire vpō this ocasiō.
There had beene a good while before, and so continued, a suter to this same lady, a great noble man, though of Laconia, yet neere nieghbour 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 guilded ouer all his other imperfections, that the olde Ladie (though contrarie to my Lord her brothers minde) had giuen her consent; and vsing a mothers authoritie vppon her faire daughter, had made her yeeld therunto, not because shee liked her choice but because her obedient minde had not yet taken vpon it to make choice; and the daie of their assurance drew neere, when my yonge lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchaunce 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 short time, hasted so him selfe, that before her word coulde tie her to Demagoras, her hart had vowed her to Argalus, with so gratefull a receipte in mutuall affection, that if shee desired above all thinges to haue Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to misse Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned bothe lyking 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 (ful of proude ioye) though to receaue the gift of her own self, shee with woordes of resolute refusal (though
•
with teares shewing she was sorie shee must refuse) assured her mother, shee woulde first be bedded in her graue, then wedded to Demagoras. The chaunge was no more strange, then vnpleasant to the mother: who beeyng determynatelye (least I shoulde saye of a greate Ladie wilfully) bent to mary her to Demagoras, tryed all waies which a wittie and hard harted mother coulde vse, vppon 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 shee made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at the length finding, that Argalus standing betweene them, was it that moste eclipsed her affection from shining vpon Demagoras, she sought al means how to remoue him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an vnremoueable suiter to her daughter: first, by employing him in as many dangerous enterprises, as euer the euil stepmother Iuno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his vertue was tryed, the more pure it grewe, while all the things she did to ouerthrowe him, did set him vp vpon the hight of honour; inough to haue mooued her harte, especially to a man euery way so worthy as Argalus: but she strugling against all reason, because she would haue her wil and shew her authoritie in matching her with Demagoras, the more vertuous Argalus was, the more shee hated him: thinking her self conquered in his conquestes, and therfore stil imploying him in more & more dangerous attempts: in the meane while, shee vsed all extremities possible vpon her faire daughter, to make her giue ouer herselfe to her directiō. But it was hard to iudge, whether he in doeing, or she in suffering, shewed greater constancie of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occasions, then he valour to goe thorow them; so to Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, then
her vnchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would haue made away Argalus: but he with prouidence and courage so past ouer all, that the mother tooke such a spitefull greefe at it, that her hart brake withall, and she died.
But then, Demagoras assuring him selfe, that now Parthenia was her owne, shee would neuer be hit, and receiuing as much by her owne determinate answere, not more desiring his owne happines, then enuying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, euen ready to enioy the perfection of his desires; strengthning his conceite with all the mischieuous counsels which disdained 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 then shee did: which done, hauing his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her seruants, as ready to reuenge as they could be, in such an vnexpected mischiefe. But the abhominablenes of this fact being come to my L
•
Kalander, he made such meanes, both by our kings intercession, and his owne, that by the king, & Senat of Lacedaemon, Demagoras was vpon paine of death, banished the countrie: who hating the punishment, where hee should haue hated the fault, ioynde himselfe, with all 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 them) made him their general: and 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 alredy promising his eies the vttermost of his felicitie, when they (no bodie els daring to tell it him) weare the first messengers to themselues of their owne misfortune. I meane not to mooue passions with telling you the greefe of both, when hee knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first knowledge 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 skilfull 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 giuen, 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, hee lauboured but to driue the extremitie of sorow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their mariage: wherunto he vnfainedly shewed himselfe no lesse cherefully earnest, then if she had neuer beene disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally bequeathed vnto her: and for that cause deferred his intended reuenge vpon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her presence; shewing moe humble seruiceablenes, and ioy to content her, then euer before.
But as he gaue this rare ensample, not to be hoped for of any other, but of an other 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 shee ouerthrow both her owne desire
•
and his, and in no sorte would yeeld to marry him; with a strange encounter of loues a
•
fects, and effects, that he by an affection sprong from excessiue beautie, should delight in horrible foulnesse; & she, of a vehement desire to haue him, should
kindely buyld 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 fayre fielde to vse eloquence in, if he did but onely repeate the lamentable, & truely affectionated speeches, while he coniured her by remembrance of her affection, & true oathes of his owne affection, not to make him so vnhappie, as to thinke hee had not onely lost her face, but her hart; that her face, when it was fayrest, had beene but as a marshal, 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 knowe, 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 bee 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 her loue towarde him: protesting vnto her, that hee 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) shee (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, all the blessings that euer the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay my selfe, and them vnder your feete: or if I had continued but
•
s I was, though (I must confesse) 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, and with faith and obedience would haue supplied all other defects. But first let me bee much more miserable then I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia: Liue happy, deare Argalus, I geue you ful libertie, 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, & 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 minde to auoid further intreatie, and 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 deed 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 bee reuenged of Demagoras, he went alone disguysed into the cheefe towne held by the Helots: where comming into his presence, garded about by many of his souldiers, he could delay his fury no longer for a fitter time: but setting vpon him, in despight of a great many that helped him, gaue him diuers mortall wounds, and him selfe (no question) had been there presently murthered, but that Demagoras himselfe desired he might bee 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 yong man, not long before deliuered out of the prison of the King of Lacedaemon, where he should haue suffered death for hauing slaine the kings Nephew: but him hee named, who at that time was absent, making roades vpon the Lacedaemonians, but Being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceiued of that yongman, especially because they had none among themselues to whom the others
would yeeld) were content to follow Demagoras apppointment. And wel hath it succeded with thē, he hauing since done things beyond the hope of the yongest heads of whom I speake the rather, because he hath hetherto pre
•
erued Argalus aliue, vnder pretence to haue him publiquelie, 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 redeeme his friend) went with certaine other noble-men of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but hee issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noble-men, and tooke Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a doo he keepeth aliue: the Helots being villanously cruel; but he tempereth them so sometimes by following 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 litle of their safeties, while they are in the Helots handes, I haue deliuered all I vnderstande touching the losse of my Lords sonne, and the cause thereof: which, though it was not necessarie to Clitophons case, to be so particularly told, yet the strangenes of it, made mee think it would not be vnplesant vnto you.
Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being euen passionatly delighted with hearing so straunge an accident of a knight so famous ouer the world, as Argalus, with whome he had him selfe a long desire to meete: so had fame poured a noble emulation in him, towardes him.
But thē (well bethinking himselfe) he called for armour, desiring them to prouide him of horse & guide, and armed all sauing the head, he wēt vp to Kalāder, whom he found lying vpō the groūd, hauing euersince 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 knowe my selfe misse one, who though he be not my sonne, I would disdayne the fauour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weaknes of sorrow, make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good successe wil follow. And with those wordes, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted victorie. Once, Kallanders spirits were so reuiued withall, that (receiuing some sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himselfe, & those few of his seruants
•
hee had left vnsent, and so himselfe guided Palladius to the place vpon the frontiers: where alredy there were assembled betwene three and four thousand men, all wel 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 knewe; but neither cunning vse of their weapons, nor arte shewed in their marching, or in cāping. Which Palladius soone perceiuing, he desired to vnderstand (as much as could bee 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 beene of olde, freemen and possessioners,
the Lacedaemonians had conquered them, and layd, not onely tribute, but bondage vpon them: which they had long borne: till of late the Lacedaemonians through greedinesse growing more heauie then they could beare, and through contempt lesse carefull howe 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 resolution vpon despaire, they had proceeded with vnlooked-for succes: hauing alredy taken diuers Towns & Castels, with the slaughter of many of the gē
trie; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly furie, then any souldierly discipline, practise had now made them comparable to the best of the Lacedaemonians and more of late then euer; by reason, first of Demagoras a great Lorde, who had made him selfe 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 wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great conflicts: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedaemon had sent vnto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honorable conditions. Palladius hauing gotten this generall knowledge of the partie against whom, as he had already of the partie for whom hee was to fight, he went to Kalander, and tolde him plainlie, that by playne force there was small apparaunce of helping Clitophon: but some deuice was to bee taken in hande, wherein no lesse discretion then valour was to bee vsed.
Whereupon, the counsel of the cheefe 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 shoulde aswell as might bee, couer, or at least make them looke so rustilie, and ill-fauouredly as might wel become such wearers; and this the whole number shoulde 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 towardes the towne of Cardamila where Clitophon was captiue; and beeing come two houres beefore Sunne-set within viewe 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 hee could maske it vnder rudenes) who with such a kinde 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, and no lesse desirous of liberty then they, and therfore had put themselues in the field, & had alreadie (besides a great number slain) taken nine or ten skore Gentlemē prisoners whō they had there well and 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 succour; knowing, that daily more & more of their qualitie would flock vnto them. but that in the mean time, lest their Prince should pursue
them, or the Lacedaemonian King and Nobilitie (for the likenes of the cause) fall vpon them, they desired that if there were not roome enough for them in the town, that yet they might encampe vnder the walles, and for surety haue their prisoners (who were such men as were euer able to make their peace) kept within the towne.
The Helots made but a short cōsultatiō, being glad that their contagiō 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 partes of Greece; besides their greedinesse to haue so many Gentlemen in their handes, in whose raunsomes they alreadie meant to haue a share; to which hast of concluding, two thinges well 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 Lacedaemon: the second, that ouer-many good fortunes began to breede a proude recklesnesse in them: therefore sending to view the campe, and finding that by their speach they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no warre, neuer suspecting a priuate mans credite could haue gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to bee 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 seeing fit time, hee gaue the signe, and shaking of their chaynes, (which were made with such arte, that though they seemed most stronge and fast, hee that ware them might easily loose them) drew their swordes hidden in the cartes, and so setting vpon the warde, made them to flie eyther from the place, or from their bodies, and so gaue 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 as they coulde) together in the market place, and thence woulde haue giuen a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slowe, hartning them 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, euerie particular bodie recommended the protection of his life to his feete, Then Kalander cried to goe 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 bee accomplished, the Helots had gotten new heart, and with diuers sortes of shot from corners of streates, and house windowes, galled them; which courage was come vnto them by the returne of their Captaine; who though he brought not many with him (hauing disperst most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great number running out of the gate, not yet possest by the
Arcadians, he made them turne face, and with banners displayed, his Trumpet gaue the lowdest testimonie he could of his returne, which once heard the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bent thetherwarde, with a newe life of resolution: as if their Captaine had beene a roote, out of which (as into braunches) their courage had sprong. Then beganne 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 hands; the Helots, as in their own place
fighting for their liuings, wiues & children. There was victorie and courage against reuenge and dispaire: safety of both sides being no otherwise to bee 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 them, with such an ouerflowing of valour, that the Captaine of the Helots (whose eies soone iudged of that wherewith themselues were gouerned) sawe 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 all the other handes. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to trie each others fortune: and 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 it in brauery of fighting, and (as it were) delightfull 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 bee ouercome; yet doubtefull by their present feeling, and respectfull by what they had already seene. Their feete stedy, their hands diligent, their eyes watchfull, and 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 againe: till both sides beginning to wax faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopefull to liue victorious, the Captaine of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of furie, not of strength, or ofstrength proceeding of furie, strake Palladius vpon the side of the head, that hee reelde astonied: and with all the helmet fell off, he remayning bare headed: but other of the Arcadians were redie to shield him from any harme might rise 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 vpon himselfe, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captaine) wauering betweene looking for some stratageme, or fearing treason, What, saide the captaine, hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?
By that watche worde Palladius knew that it was his onely friende Pyrocles, whom he had lost vpon the Sea, and therefore both most full of wonder, so to bee mett, if they had not bene fuller of ioye then wonder, caused the retraite to bee sounded,
Daiphantus by authoritie and Palladius by persuasion; to which helped well the little aduantage 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 then his old age could atchiue, 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 hee caused the retreit to bee sounded: looking for no other deliuerie from that captiuitie, but by the painefull taking away of all paine: when whome should hee see nexte to the Captaine (with good tokens how valiantly hee had fought that daie against the Arcadians) but his sonne Clitophon? But now the Captaine had caused all the principall Helots to bee assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receiue a message from the Arcadians; Among whom Palladius vertue (besides the loue Kalander bare him) hauing gotten principall authoritie, hee had persuaded them to seeke rather by parley to recouer the Father and the Sonne, then by the sworde: since the goodnes of the Captaine assured him that way to speede, and his value (wherewith hee was of old acquainted) made him thinke any other way dangerous. This therefore 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, and 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, it is like to stirre Arcadia vppon vs, which nowe, by vsing these persons wel, maie bee brought to some amitie. Lastly but especially, least the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom now wee haue made a perfect peace) should hope by occasiō of this quarrell to ioyne the Arcadians with them, and so breake of the profitable agreement alreadie concluded. In summe, as in all deliberations (waying the profit of the good successe with the harme of the euill successe) you shall finde this way most safe and honorable.
The Helots asmuch moued by his authoritie, as perswaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon, Palladius tooke order that the Arcadians shoulde presently march out of the towne, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutuall 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 quarell might engender. 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 feete of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himselfe) had preserued him from the furious malice of the Helots: and 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 parte of the Helots; which he had in his fight perfourmed, little knowing that it was against his father: but (saide
Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saued me from many deathes, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with teares of ioy acknowledged (besides his owne deliuerance) onely his benefite. But Daiphanius, 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, and what his present estate was whereof receiuing a brief declaratiō 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 mindes, that hee
would aduenture him in their power, who was so welknowen with an vnfriendly acquaintce, but that he desired him to returne with Kalander, whether also he within fewe dayes (hauing dispatched himselfe of the Helots) would repaire. Kalander would needes kisse his hand againe for that promise, protesting he would esteeme his house more blessed then a temple of the gods, if it had once receiued him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus. Daiphantus assured them that hee would dye but hee would bring him, (though till then kept in close prison, indeede for his safetie, the Helots being so animated against him as els he 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 sorte molest the Helots,
they straight way marched out of the towne, carying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were already within the limits of Arcadia.
The Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gaue thēselus to burye their dead to cure their wounds, and rest their wearied bodies: til (the next day bestowing the cheerefull vse of the light vpon them) Daiphan
•
us making a generall conuocation spake vnto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thank the Gods, that (further then wee had either cause to hope; or reason to imagine) haue deliuered vs out of this gulfe of daunger, wherein we were alredie swallowed. For all being lost, (had they not directed, my return so iust as they did) it had beene too late to recouer that, which being had, we could not keepe. And had I not happened to know one of the principal 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 fruits of wisdom grow out of this occasion) we should haue had our power turned to ruine, our pride to repentance and sorrow. But now the storme, as it fell, so it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly then his age or quarrell 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 Lacedaemon, and you; which is in all points as your selues desired: aswell for that you would haue graunted, as for the assurance of 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 doo: Your selues are made by publique decree, freemen, and so capable both to giue and receiue voice in election of Magistrates. The distinction of names betweene Helots and Lacedaemonians 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 the Spartane discipline: & so you (framing your selues to be good members of that estate) to bee hereafter fellowes, and no longer seruants.
Which conditions you see, cary in themselues no more contentation then assurance. 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 forgetfulnesse decreed of all what is past, they shewing them 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 of their 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 stoode vpon, which in the end I with your commissioners haue agreed vnto, that I shoulde no more tarry heere, mistaking perchance my humor, and thinking me as seditious as I am young, or els it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my ill hap to kill his nephew Eurileon; but how so euer it be; I haue condiscended. But so will not we cried almost the whole assemblie, councelling one an other, rather to try the vttermost euent, then to loose him by whom 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 preferre such an opportunity before a vaine affection; but yet could not preuaile, till openly he sware, that he would (if at any time the Lacedaemonians brake this treatie) come back againe, and be their captaine.
So then after a few daies, setting them in perfect order, he tooke his leaue of them, whose eyes bad him farwell with teares, and mouthes with kissing the places where he stept, and after 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 dreadfull terror proceed from so excellent beautie. But he for his sake obtained free pardon for Argalus, whom also (vpon 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 countenance 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 them all to lament his departure, he by enquirie gotte to the well-knowne house of Kalander: There was he receiued with louing ioye of Kalander, with ioyefull loue of Palladius, with humble (though dolefull) 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 b
•
shfull kinde of modestie, as if he 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 Cupids bodie: All that beheld him (and all that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quicke messengers to their minds, that there they had 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
•
icle impression of eye-sight. But while all men (sauing poore Argalus) made the ioy of their eyes speake for their harts towardes Daiphantus: Fortune (that belike was bid to that banket, and ment then to playe the good fellow) brought a pleasant aduenture among them. It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a yong noble Lady, neere kinswoman to the faire Helen Queene of Corinth; was come thither, 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 Parthen
•
a. But when they met this Lady; Kalander streight thought hee sawe his neece Parthenea, and was about in such familiar
sorte to haue spoken vnto her: But shee in graue aud honorable manner giuing him to vnderstande that he was mistaken, he halfe ashamed excused himselfe with the exceeding likenes was between them, though in deede it seemed that this Lady was of the more pure and daintie complexion; shee saide, it might very well bee, hauing beene many times taken one for another. But assoon as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publickly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came hastilie, and as hastilie thought as Kalander had done, with sodaine chaunges of ioye into sorrow. But she when she had staide their thoughts with telling them her name, and qualitie in this sorte 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 vpon some occasion gone thence) there came vnto me the Lady Parthenia. so disfigured, as I think Greece hath nothing so ougly to behold. For my part, it was many daies, before with vehement oathes, and some good proofes, she could make me think that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certainlye it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had euer tolde me (as now you doo) of the great likenes between 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 himself to be a hater of vertue, and vnworthy to liue in the societie of mankind. But no outwarde cherishing could salue the inwarde sore of her minde, but a few dayes since she died: before her death earnestly desiring, and perswading me, to thinke of no husbande but of you; as of the onely man in the worlde worthie to be loued, with-al she gaue me this Ring to deliuer you; desiring you, & by the authoritie of loue commanding 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. Nowe my L. though this office be not (perchance) sutable to my estate nor sex, who should rather looke to be desired; yet, an extraordinarie desert requires an extraordinarie proceeding: and therefore I am come (with faithfull loue built vppon your worthines) to offer my selfe and to beseech you to accept the offer: & if these noble gentlemen present will say it is great folly, let thē withall, 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) infinitly am I bound 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 vnfortunate 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 faile you. But this great matter you propose vnto me, wherin I am not so blinde as not to se what happines it should be vnto me; Excellent Ladie, know, that if my hart were mine to giue, you before all 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 longe tarry after her, with whose beautie if I had onely beene in loue, I should be so with you, who haue the same beautie: but it was Parthenias selfe Lloued, and loue; which no likenes can make one; no commandemēt dissolue, no foulnes defile, nor no death finish. And shall I receiue (said shee) such disgrace, as to be refused? Noble Ladie
(saide he) let not that harde word be vsed; who know your exceeding worthinesse farre beyond my desert: but it is onely happines I refufe, since of the onely happines I could and can desire, I am refused.
He had scarce spoken those words, when shee ranne to him, and imbracing him, Why then Argalus (said she) take thy Parthenia; and Parthenia it was in deede. 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 Queene Helen of Corinth, (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking also alone in that lonely place, hearde her and neuer lefte, till she had knowen the whole discourse. Which the noble Queene greatly pitying, she sent her to a Phisition of hers the most excellent man in the world, in hope he could helpe her: which in such sort as they saw he had perfourmed, and shee taking with her of the Queenes seruants, 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 councell, 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 holde his deare guestes, towardes whom he was now (besides his owne habite of hospitallitie) carried with loue and dutie: & therefore omitted no seruice that his wit could inuent, and his power minister.
But no way 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 btahbādōed the burnīg ship (& either of them taken some thing vnder him the better to support him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with ouer-labouring in the fight and soddaine colde, or the to much receiuing of salt water, he was past him selfe: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to do) the chest that was vnder him, he was cast on the sandes, where he was taken vp by a couple of shepeheards, and by them brought to life againe, and kept from drowning himselfe, when he despaired of his safetie. How after hauing failed to take him into the fisher boate, he had by the shepherds perswasion come to this Gentlemans house; where being daungerouslie sicke, he had yeelded to seeke the recouerie of health, onely for that he might the sooner goe seeke the deliuerie of Pyrocles: to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messena, had alreadie set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophons taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he setfoorth vnto him the noble intertainment and carefull cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so vpon occasion of the pictures present deliuered with the franknes of a friendes tongue, as neere as he could, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange storie (with all the particularities belonging) of Arcadia,
which did in many sortes so delight Pyrocles to heare; that he would needes haue much of it againe repeated, and was not contented till Kalander himselfe had answered him diuers questions.
But first at Musidorus request, though in briefe manner, his mind much running vpon the strange storie of Arcadia, he did declare by what course of aduentures he was com to make vp their mutuall happines in meeting. When (cosin said he) we had stript our selues, and were both leapt into the Sea, and swom a litle 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 most of the shippe, where you found me, assuring my selfe, that if you came aliue to shore, you woulde 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 bee found with that in my hande, and withall wauing it about my head, that saylers by might haue the better glimpse of me. There you missing mee, I was taken vp by Pyrates, who putting me vnder boorde prisoner, presentlie sett vppon another shippe, and mainteyning 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 bee you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till the time I sawe you, it trueth I sought nothing more then a noble ende, which perchaunce made me more hardie then otherwise I would haue beene. Tryall whereof came within two dayes after: for the Kinges of Lacedaemon hauing sett out some Galleys, vnder the charge of one of their Nephewes 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 beeing boorded by the Admirall, it was my fortune to kill Euryleon the Kinges nephew: but in the end they preuailed, & we were all taken 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 laide in the iayle of Tenarïa, with speciall hate to me for the death of Euryleon, the popular sorte 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 with in few dayes, that they barbarouslie thinking vnsensible wonders of mee, and with all so much the better trusting mee, as they heard I was hated of the Kinge of Lacedaemon, their chiefe Captayne beyng slaine as you knowe by the noble Argalus, who helped thereunto by his perswasion) hauing borne a great affection vnto mee, and to auoyde the daungerous emulation whiche grewe among the chiefe, who shoulde haue the place, and also affected, as rather to haue a straunger then a competitour, they elected mee, (God worte little prowde of that dignitie;) restoring vnto mee such thinges of mine as beeing taken first by the Pyrates, and they by the Lacedaemonians, 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 daye that you deliuered Clitophon, whom I with much a doo had preserued. And in my peace the Kinge Amiclas of Lacedaemon 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 heere (my deere Musidorus) you haue mee. And with that (embracing and kissinge eche other) they called Kalander,
of whom Daiphantus desired to heare the ful storie, which before he 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 bee 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 beautyfie, nor all the daintye deuises so much delight, as the fairenesse of Parthenia, the pearle of all the maydes of
Mantinaea: who as shee went to the Temple to bee maried, her eyes themselues seemed a temple, wherein loue and beautie were married: her lippes though 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 withall when shee was spoken vnto, a little smilyng, were like roses
•
when their leaues are with a little breath stirred: her hayre beeyng layed at the full length down her backe, bare shew as if the voward fayled, yet that woulde cō
nquer. Daiphantus marking her, to Iupiter (said hee speaking to Palladius) how happens it, that beautie is only confined to Arcadia? But Palladius not greatly attending his speach, som daies were continued in the solemnising the marriage, with al conceipts that might deliuer delight to mens fancies.
But such a chaunge was growen in Daiphantus, that (as if cheerefulnesse had bene tediousnesse, & good entertainement were turnd to discourtesie) he would euer get himself alone, though almost whē he was in company, he was alone, so little attentiō he gaue to any that spake vnto him: euen the colour & figure of his face began to receaue some alteration; which hee shewed little to heede: but euerie morning earlie going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the desert, it seemed his onely comfort was to be without a comforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true loue made redy to marke, & long knowledge able to marke; & therefore being now growen weary of his abode in Arcadia, hauing informed him selfe fully of the strength and riches of the coūtry, of the nature of the people, and manner of their lawes: & seeing the courte coulde not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certaine sheapheardish people, hee greatly desired a speedy returne to his owne countrie, after the many mazes of fortune hee had troden. But perceauing this great alteration in his friend, hee thought first to breake with him thereof, and then to hasten his returne
•
; whereto hee 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 minde well trained and long exercised in vertue (my sweete and worthy cosin) doth not easily chaunge any course it once vndertakes, but vpon well grounded and 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 bee altered. Euen the very countenaunce and behauiour of such a man doth shewe foorth Images of the same constancie, by maintaining a right harmonie 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 friende Pyrocles) the excellencie of whose minde and well chosen course in vertue, if I doo not sufficiently know, hauing
seene such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakenes, and not your vnworthynes, But as in deede I know it, and knowing it most dearely loue both it, and him that hath it; so must I needes saye, that since our late comming into this countrie, I haue marked in you, I will not saye an alteration, but a relenting truely, and a slacking of the maine career, you had so notablye begon and almost performed; and that in such sorte, as I cannot finde sufficient reason in my great loue toward you howe to allowe it; for (to leaue of other secreter argumentes which my acquaintaunce with you makes mee easilie finde) this in effect to any man may bee manifest, that whereas you weere 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 practise both by continuall wise proceedinge, and worthie enterprises, as occasion fell for them; you now leaue all these thinges vndone: you let your minde fall 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 doinge. Pyrocles minde was all this while so fixed vpon another deuotion, that hee no more attentiuely marked his friendes discourse, then the childe that hath leaue to playe, markes the last parte of his lesson; or the diligent Pilot in a daungerous tempest doth attende the vnskilfull wordes of a passinger: yet the very sound hauing imprinted the generall pointe of his speech in his hart, pierced with any mislike of so deerelie an esteemed friende, 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 mee in the beginning of your speech, 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 intirelie, if you had not beene apt to make so great (though vndeserued) iudgementes of me; and euen so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I haue euer through weaknes beene subiect, yet you by the daily mending 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 bettering. And yet vnder the leaue of your better iudgement, I must needes say thus much, my deere cosin, that I finde not my selfe wholie to bee condemned, because I do not with continuall vehemency follow 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? Truelie as I know not all the particularities, so yet I see the boundes of all these knowledges: but the workinges of the minde I finde much more infinite, then can bee 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 wee see flye alone; and they are but sheepe, which alwayes
waies heard together; condemne not therefore my minde sometime 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 well haue serued to haue satisfied another. And so looking with a countenaunce, as though hee desired hee shoulde know his minde without hearring him speake, and yet desirous to speake, to breath out some part of his inwarde euil, sending againe new blood to his face, hee continued his speach in this manner. And Lord (dear cousin: 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 country 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 equall 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 sweete consent of their voyces? Is not euery Eccho thereof a perfect Musicke? & these fresh and delightfull brookes how slowly they slide away, as loth to leaue the company of so many thinges vnited in perfection? and with how sweete a murmur they lament their forced departure? Certainely, certainely, cosin, it must needs be that som Goddesse enhabiteth this Region, who is the soule of this soyle: for neither is any lesse then a Goddesse, worthie to bee shrined in such a heape of pleasures: nor any lesse then a Goddesse coulde 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 then pleading. But Musidorus had all this while helde his looke fixed vpon Pyrocles countenance; and with no lesse louing attention marked howe his wordes proceeded from him: but in both these he perceiued such strange diuersities, that they rather increased new doubtes, then gaue him ground to settle anie iudgement: for, besides his eyes sometimes euen great with teares, the oft changing of his colour, with a kinde of shaking vnstayednes ouer all his bodie, he might see in his countenance some great determination mixed with feare; and might perceiue in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested; his wordes interrupted continually with sighes (which serued as a burthen to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his wonted phrase) not knit together to one constant 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 defended his solitarines, framed in his minde a replie against it, in the praise of honourable action, in shewing that such a kind of contemplatiō is but a glorious title to idlenes; that in action a man did not onely better himselfe but benefit others; that the gods would not haue deliuered a soule into the bodie, which hath armes and legges, onely instrumentes of doeing, but that it were intended the minde shoulde imploy them, and that the minde should best knowe his owne good or euill, by practise
•
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 hee found Pyrocles leaue that, and fall into such an affected praising of the place, he left it likewise, and ioyned with him therein: because hee found him in that humor vtter more store of passion; and euen thus kindely embrasing him, he said: Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitarinesse, as they would make mee 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 wordes, then by such wordes to bee perswaded to follow solitarines. And euen so doo I geue you leaue (sweete Pyrocles
euer to defende solitarines, so long as to defende it, you euer keep companie. But I maruell at the excessiue praises you giue to this countrie; in truth it is not vnplesant: but yet if you would returne into Macedon you should either se many heauens or find this no more then earthlie. And euen Tempe in my Thessalia (where you and I to my great happynesse were brought vp together) is nothing inferiour vnto it. But I thinke 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 well disposed men, set vp euery thing to the highest note; especially, when they put such wordes in the mouths of one of these fantasticall mind-infected people, that children & Musitiās cal Louers. This word, Louer, did no lesse pearce poore Pyrocles, then the right tune of musicke toucheth him that is sicke of the Tarantula. There was not one parte 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 conntenance 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 bee 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 care should be poysoned with so euil news of you. O let me neuer know that any base affectiō should get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was speaking more, Kalander came, and brake of their discourse, with inuiting them to the hunting of a goodly stagge, which being harbored in a wood thereby, he hoped vvould make them good sporte, and driue avvay some parte of Daiphantus melancholy. They condiscended, and so going to their lodgings, furnished them selues as liked them Daiphantus writing a fewe words which he left sealed in a letter against their returne.
Then wēt they together abroad, the good Kalāder entertaining thē with pleasaunt discoursing, howe well he loued the sporte of hunting when hee was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof hee 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 couutenance) disswade him from watching till midnight for the deeres feeding. O, saide he, you will neuer liue to my age, without you keepe your selues in breath vvith exercise, and in hart vvith ioifullnes: too much thinking doth consume the spirits and oft it falles out, that vvhile
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 and good fellowship being nothing in the price, it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, stil worse and worse. Then would he tell them stories of such gallaunts as he had knowē: 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 hounds were in couples staying their comming, but with a whining Accent crauing libertie: many of them in colour and markes 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 handes 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 erelong the Stagge thought it better to trust to 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 viewe of (their faithfull councellors) the huntsmen, with open mouthes then denounced warre, when the warre was alreadie begun. Their crie beeing composed of so well sorted mouthes, that any man would perceiue therein some kinde of proportion, but the skilfull woodmen did finde a musicke. Then delight and varietie of opinion drew the horsmen sundrie wayes; yet cheering their houndes with voyce & horne, 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) hee was driuen to make courage of dispaire; and so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testifie that he was at a 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 besieged Deere; whom when some of the younger sorte 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 vnkindnes he tooke of mans crueltie.
But by the time that the vvhole companie vvas assembled, & that the Sagge had bestovved himfelfe liberally among them that had killed him, Daiphantus vvas mist, for vvhom Palladius carefully enquiring, no nevves could bee giuen him, but by one that saide, he thought hee was returned home; for that hee markt him, in the chiefe of the hunting, take a by way, which might lead to Kalanders house. That answere for the time satisfying, and they hauing perfourmed all dueties, as well for the Stagges funerall, 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: till comming home (about the time that the candles begin to inherit the Suns office) they found Daiphantus was not to bee found. Whereat Palladius greatly maruailing, and a day or tvvo passing, vvhile neither search nor inquirie could help him to knovvledge, at last he lighted vpō the letter, vvhich Pyrocles had vvritten before he vvent a hunting, and left in his studie among other of his vvritings. The letter vvas directed to Palladius himselfe, and conteyned
these wordes.
My onely friend, violence of loue leades me into such a course, whereof your knowledge may much more vexe you, then helpe me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since: if I wrong you, it is in the respect I beare you. Return 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 hee) Pyrocles, what meanes this alteration? what haue I deserued of thee, to bee thus banished of thy counsels? Heretofore I haue accused the sea, condemned the Pyrats, and hated my euil fortune, that depriued me of thee; But now thy self is the sea, which drounes my comfort, thy selfe is the Pirat that robbes thy selfe of me: Thy owne wil becomes my euill fortune. Then turned he his thoughts to all formes of ghesses that might light vpon the purpose and course of Pyrocles: for hee was not so sure by his wordes, that it was loue, as hee was doubtfull where the loue was. One time he thought, some beautie in Laconia had layed hold of his eyes; an other time hee feared, that it might be Parthenias excellencie, which had broken the bands of al 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 bee either by meeting accomplished, or by death ended. Therfore (for all the vnkindnesse bearing tender respect, that his friends secrete determinatiō 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 sort fit for him, to follow him, but in such priuate wise, as not to bee knowne, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell: arming himselfe in a blacke armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his minde: and taking onely with him good store of monie, and a fewe choise iewels, leauing the greatest number of them, and most of his apparell with Kalander: which he did partly to giue the more cause to Kalander
to expect their returne, and so to be the lesse curiously inquisitiue after them
•
and partly to leaue those honorable thankes vnto him, for his charge and kindenes, which hee knewe hee woulde no other way receaue. The good old man hauing neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, receaued the things, with minde 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 saide, he had euer till then delaid, fearing to be any way importune: but now he could not be so much an enemy to his desires as any longer to imprison them in silence, Palladius tolde him that the matter was not so secrete, but that so worthie a friend deserued the knowledge, and should haue it as soone as he might speake with his friend: 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 finde that they which bare the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, would giue him and his cause to thinke his noble courtesie well imploied. Kalander would presse him no further: but desiring that he might haue leaue to goe, or at least to sende his sonne and seruauntes 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 bee more cumber then curtesie, to st
•
iue, abstained from further vrging him, but not from hartie mourning the losse of so sweete a conuersation.
Onely Clitophon by vehement importunitie obteyned to go with him, to come againe to Daiphantus, whom he named and accounted his Lord. And in such priuate guise departed Palladius, though hauing a companion to talke withall, yet talking much more with vnkindnes. And first they went to Mantinaea; wherof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no newes of him he went to Tegaea, Ripa, Enispae, Stimpahlus, 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, many times encountring strange aduentures, 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 heigh hills 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 wearienes of themselues, inuited to light from their horses; & pulling of their bits, that they might somthing refresh their mouthes vppon the grasse (which plentifully grewe, brought vp vnder the care of those well shading trees,) they them selues laid them downe hard by the murmuring musicke of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hills, & in the bottome of the vallie made of many springs a pretie brooke, like a common-wealth of many famylies: but when they had a while harkened to the perswasion of sleepe, they rose, and walkt onward in that shadie place
•
till Clitophon 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 and shield, by the deuice whereof, which was
〈…〉
he straight knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Whereupō (fearing some inconuenience hapned vnto him) he told both his doubte and cause of doubte to Palladius, who (considering thereof) thought best to make no longer stay, but to follow on: least perchaunce some violence were offered to so worthie a Knight, whō the fame of the world semed to sett in ballance with any Knight liuing. Yet with a soddaine cōceipt, 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 helpe of Clitophon quickly put on that armour, whereof there was no one piece wāting, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was some-thing to great, but yet serued well enough. And so getting on their horses, they trauailed but a litle way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a faire field, they met with a coach drawen with foure milke white-horses, furnished al in blacke, with a blacke a more boye vpon euerie horse, they all apparelled in white, the coach it selfe very richly furnished in blacke and white. But before they coulde come so neere as to discerne what was within, there came running vppon them aboue a dosen horsmen, who cried to them to yeelde them selues prisoners, or els they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to graunt ouer the possession of him selfe vppon so vniust titles, with sworde drawne gaue them so rude an answer, that diuers of them neuer had breath to reply again: for being well
backt by Clitophon, & hauing an excellent horse vnder him, when he was ouerprest by some, he auoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellows faults: and so either 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 blacke boies they should haue no hurt, who were els readie to haue run away, and looking into the coach, he found in the one end a Lady of great beautie, & such a beautie, as shewed forth the beames both of wisdome & good nature, but all as much darkned, as might be, with sorrow. 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 Gentleman (whom he knew not) painted, hauing in their faces a certaine waiting sorrow, their eies being infected with their mistres weeping. But, the cheife Ladie hauing not so much as once heard the noise of this cōflict (so had sorrow closed vp all the entries of her mind, & loue tied her sēces to that beloued picture (now the shadow of him falling vpon the picture made her cast vp her eie, and seing the armour which too well knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (bloud comming more freely into her cheekes, as though it would be bolde, & yet there growing new again pale for feare) with a pitiful looke (like on vniustly condemned) My Lord Amphialus saide she you haue enough punished me: it is time for crueltie to leaue you, and euill fortune me; if not I praie 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 oftē staying speeches, poured it self so fast in teares, that Palladius could not hold her longer in errour, but pulling of his helmet, Madam (said he) I perceaue you mistake me: I am a stranger in these parts, set vpon (without any cause giuē 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 finde greater cause, why I should craue pardon of you. When she saw his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, & seing her men, some slaine, some lying vnder their dead horses, & striuing to get from vnder them, without making more account of the matter, Truly (said she) they are wel 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 howe hee found it. It is like enough (said shee) 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 company: 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 bee fayre Ladie (saide hee) 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 mee 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 (saide 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 will 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. Know you then that my name is Helen, Queene by birth: & hetherto possession of the faire citie and territorie of Corinth. I can say no more of my selfe, but beloued of my people: & may iustly say, beloued, since they are content to beare with my absēce, & folly. But I being left by my fathers death, & accepted by my people, in the highest degre, that coūtry could receiue; assone, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it; my court quickely swarmed full of suiters; some perchance louing my state, other
•
my person, but once I know all of them, howsoeuer my possessions were in their harts, my beautie (such as it is) was in their mouthes; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of mine owne countrie, to whom either birth or vertue gaue courage to avowe so high a desire.
Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lorde 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 vnworthye of such a father, bending himselfe by all meanes of seruiseablenes to mee, and setting forth of himselfe to win my fauour, wan thus farre of mee, that in truth I les
•
e misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenaunce deliuered vnto him. Though I must protest it was a very 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 perchance 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 vpō the picture before her, and straight sighed, & straight teares followed, as if the Idol of dutie ought to be honoured with such oblations, and then her speach staied the tale, hauing brought her to that looke, 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, & honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so longe vnto her moning, till she had recounted the rest of this story. Why saide 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 followes deeds of armes, but euery where findes monumēts of Amphialus? who is courteous, noble, liberall, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus? where are al heroical 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, till he againe solliciting the conclusion of her story: Then must you (saide shee) know the story of Amphialus: for his wil is my life, his life my history: and indeed in what can I better emploie my lippes thē in speaking of Amphialus?
This Knight then whose figure you see, but whose minde 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 yeares marrying a yonge and a faire Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection in beautie: which put by their yong cosin from that expectation.
Wherevppon his mother (a woman of a hauti
•
heart, 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 (betweene whome and her dead husband there 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 trained on with as good education, as any Princes sonne in the worlde 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 harde, 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 manhood, yet, as though therin he excelled him selfe, he was cōmonly 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 conquests of countries some times vsing policy, some times force, but alwaies vertue well folowed, and but followed by Philoxenus: betweene whom, and him, so fast a frindship by educatiō was knit, that at last Philoxenus hauing no greater matter to imploye his frindshipp in, then to winne me, therein desired, and had his vttermost furtheraunce: to that purpose brought he him to my court, where truely I may iustly witnes with him, that what his wit coulde conceiue (and his wit can conceiue 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 mee to haue such a husband: with many arguments, which God knowes, I cannot well remember because I did not much beleue. For why should I vse many circumstances to come to that where alreadye I am, and euer while I liue must continue? in fewe wordes, while he pleaded for another, 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 beautie, sweetnes, and noble cōuersation, had entred there before he vouchsafed to call for the keyes. O Lorde, 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 lippes! when he would with daintiest eloquence stirre pittie in me towarde Philoxenus, vvhy sure (said I to my selfe) Helen, be not afraid, this hart cannot vvant pittie: and vvhen he vvould extoll the deeds of Philoxenus, vvho indeede had but vvaited of him therin, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus hovv euil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? vvhat should I saie? nay, vvhat should I not say (noble Knight) vvho am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to expresse mine ovvne passions?
Dayes paste; his eagernes for his friend neuer decreased, my affection to him euer increased. At length, in vvay of ordinarie curtesie, I obteined of him (vvho suspected no such matter) this his picture, the onely Amphialus, I feare that I shall euer enioy: and grovven bolder, or madder, or bould vvith madnes, I discouered my affection vnto him. But, Lord, I shall neuer forget, how anger and curtesie, at one instant apeared in his eyes, vvhen he harde that motion: hovv vvith his blush he taught me shame. In summe, he left nothing vnassayed, vvhich might disgrace himselfe, to grace his friēd; in svveet termes making me receiue a most resolute
refusall of himselfe. But when he found that his presence did far more perswade for himselfe, then his speeche could doo for his frend, hee left my court: hoping, that forgetfulnesse (which commonly waits vpon absence) woulde make roome for his friende: to whome hee woulde not vtter thus much (I thinke) for a kinde feare not to grieue him, or perchance (though he cares litle for me) of a certain honorable gratefulnes, nor yet to discouer so much of my secrets: but as it should seeme, meant to trauell into farre countryes, vntill his friends affectiō either ceased, or preuailed. 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 countenance, but I am sure with a most affectionate mind. I straight found ielousie and disdaine tooke holde of him: and yet the froward paine of mine owne harte made mee 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 hee woulde speake for Amphialus, as well as Amphialus had done for him: he neuer answered me, but pale & 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 thinges 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 will 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 hee had trauailed scarsea dayes iorney out of my Countrey, but that (not farre from this place) he ouer-tooke 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 them 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 towarde him, which he (refusing to fight with him) woulde 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 hee leauing wordes 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 iniury mee, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy vertuous fathers sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee goe awaye, and conquer thy owne passions, and thou shalt make mee 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, and vnhappye
occasion made Amphialus passe himselfe in sorrow: for Philoxenus was but newelie dead, when there comes to thesame 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 coulde; but alas not so speedily, but that hee founde him dead before hee coulde ouertake him. Though my heart bee 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 sorrowe, what amasement, what shame was in Amphialus, when hee sawe his deere foster father, finde him the killer of his onely sonne? In my heart I knowe, hee wished mountaines had laine vpon him, to keepe him from that meeting. As for Timotheus, sorrow of his sonne and (I thinke principally) vnkindenesse of Amphialus so deuoured his vitall spirites that able to say no more but Amphialus, Amphialus, haue I? he sancke to the earth, and presently died.
But not my tongue though daily vsed to complaints; no nor if my heart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to tongues, 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 vppon you, which at the first sight I vainely hoped, hee had put on againe; and then (as ashamed of the light) hee ranne into thickest of the woods, lamenting, and euen crying out so pitifully, that my seruant, (though of a fortune not vsed to much tendernes) could not refraine weeping when he told it me. He once ouertooke him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the onely part of his armes (God knowes to what purpose) he carried about him, threatned to kil him if he followed him, and withal, bad him deliuer this bitter message, that he wel inough found, I was the cause of all this mischiefe: and that if I were a man, he would go ouer the world to kill me: but bad me assure myselfe, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated mee. Ah sir Knight (whose eares I think by this time are tired with the rugged waies of these misfortunes) now weigh my case, if at least you know what loue is. For this cause haue I left my countrie, putting in hazard how my people will in time deale by me, aduenturing what perilles or dishonors might ensue, onely to follow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my necke vnto him, if that may redeeme my trespasse and asswage his fury. And now sir (saide she) you haue your request, I pray you take paines to guide me to the next towne, that there I may gather such of my company againe, as your valor hath left me. Palladius willingly condiscended: but ere they began to go, there came Clitophon, who hauing bene something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way: at length ouertaking him, and ready to kill him, vnderstoode they were seruants to the faire Queene Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, whō they knew their mistresse sought; for she concealed her sorrow, nor cause of her sorrow frō no body.
But Clitophon (very sory for this accident) came backe to comfort the Queene, helping such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, and framing friendly constructions of this rashly vnder-taken enmitie, when in comes an other (till that time vnseene) all armed, with his beuer downe, who first looking round about vpon the cōpany, as soone as he spied Palladius, he drew his sword, & making no other prologue, let flie at him. But Palladius (sorie for so much harme as had already happened) sought rather to retire, and warde, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the faire Queene, whose case in his heart he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stept
betweene them, asking the new come knight the cause of his quarrel; who answered him, that hee 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 hee of the other side had Palladius owne armour vpon him: truely (saide 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 and 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 shall 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, then by being vnkind to so excellēt 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 duetie to the Queene, whom in al these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoone as she saw Ismenus (looking to her picture) Ismenus (saide shee) 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 vpon paine of death to follow him. Yet diuers daies I followed his steppes; till lastly I found him, hauing newly met with an excellent Spaniell, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenns. The dog straight fawned on my master for old knowledge: but neuer was there thinge more pittifull then to heare my maister blame the dog for louing his maisters murtherer, renewing a fresh his complaints, with the dumbe counceller, as if they might comfort 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 commaundement 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 steede thereof, and (disdaining I must confesse that any should beare the armour of the best Knight liuing) armed my selfe therein to play the foole, as euen now I did. Faire Ismenus (said the Queene) a fitter messenger could hardly be to vnfold my Tragedie: I see the end, I see my end.
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: and therefore changing armours againe with Ismenus (who went withall to a castle belonging to his master) he continued his quest for his friend Daiphantus.
So directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots, as Spartans. There indeede hee found his fame flourishing, his monuments engraued in Marble, and yet more durably 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 louelinesse, 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 were possible to know of his passage. But finding euerie place more dombe then other to his demaundes, and remembring that it was late-taken loue, which had wrought this new course, he returned againe (after two moneths trauaile in vaine) to make a freshe searche in Arcadia; so much the more, as then first he bethought him selfe of the picture of Philoclea (which resembling her he had once loued) might perhaps awake againe that sleeping passion
•
and hauing alreadie past ouer the greatest part of Arcadia, one daie comming vnder the side of the pleasant mountaine Maenalus, his horse (nothing guiltie of his inquisitiuenes) with flat-tyring 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 there by. 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 obteined 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 coulde 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 perceiue the hanging of her haire in fairest quantitie, in locks, some curled, and some as it were forgotten, with such a carelesse care, & an arte so hiding arte, that shee seemed she would lay them for a paterne, whether nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be the more excellent: the rest whereof was drawne into a coronet of golde richly set with pearle, and so ioyned all ouer with golde wiers, & couered with feathers of diuers coulours, that it was not vnlike to an helmet, such, a glittering shew, it bare, & so brauely it was held vp from the head. Vpon her bodie she ware a doublet of Skie colour sattin, couerd with plates of golde & as it were nailed with pretious stones, that in it she might seeme armed; the nether part 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 small of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a shorte 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 her right arme, and couering most of that side, it had no fastning of the left side, but onley vpon the top of the shoulder: where the two endes met, and were closed together with a very riche iewell: the deuise whereof as he after saw was this: a Hercules made in litle fourme, but set with a distaffe in 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 she ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needlesse 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 strongest violence of eye-sight; but shee went into it by a doore
she opened; which moued him as warely as he could to follow her, and by & 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
•
aintly yeeld;
Both these conspir'd poore Reasons ouerthrowe;
False in my selfe, thus haue I lost the fielde,
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, hee 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 hee saw Daphne sodainelie 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 blushing, 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 indeede 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 outward face might haue bene disguised, then that the face of so excellent a mind could 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 fitte 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 thoughtes 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 will be men, the reasonable parte of our soule, is to haue absolute commaundement; against which if any sensuall weaknes arise, wee are to yeelde all our sounde forces to the ouerthrowing of so vnnaturall a rebellion, wherein howe can we wante courage, since wee are to deale against so weake an aduersary, that in it selfe is nothinge but weakenesse? Nay wee 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 way you endaunger your minde; for to take this womanish habit (without you frame your behauiour accordinglie) is wholie 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 plaie your parte to anie purpose, whatsoeuer peeuish imperfections are in that sexe, to soften your hart to receiue them, the verie first downe-steppe to all wickednesse: for doo not deceiue your selfe, my deere cosin, there is no man sodainelie either excellentlie good, or extremelie euill but growes either as hee holdes himselfe vp in vertue, or lettes himselfe 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 of them generallie haue power towardes some good by the direction of Reason. But this bastarde Loue (for indeede 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 bee vnquietnes, longings fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, ielousies, vngrounded rages, causlesse yeeldings; so is the highest end it aspires vnto, a litle pleasure with much paine before, and great repentaunce after. But that ende how endlesse it runes 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 bee seene, that (besides your breaking lawes of hospitallitie with Kalander and of friendship with me) it vtterly subuerts the course of nature, in making reason giue place to sense, and 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 transforme the verie essence of the louer into the thing loued, vniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret and inwarde working. And herein do these kinde of loues 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 wōman, doth so womanize a man, that (if hee 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 can imagin and their weake hands performe. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but louiug wordes) if either you remember what you are, what you haue bene, or what you must be: if you cōsider 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 bee driuē by the other, that I doubt not I shal quicklie haue occasion rather to praise you
for hauing conquered it, then to giue you further counsell, howe to doo it. But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but that hee, who before hee was espied, was afraide; after, being perceiued, was ashamed, now being hardly rubd vpon, left both feare and shame, and was moued to anger. But the exceeding good will he bare to Musidorus striuing with it, hee thus, partly to satisfie him, but principally to loofe the reines to his owne motions, made him answere. Cosin, whatsoeuer good disposition nature hath bestowed vpon me, or howsoeuer that disposition hath bene by bringing vp confirmed, this must I confesse, that I am not yet come to that degree of wisedome, to thinke light of the sexe, of whom I haue my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, then I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a womā, & nursed of a womā. And certēly (for this point of your speach doth neerest touch me) it is strāg to see the vnman-like cruelty of mā
kind; who not content with their tyrānous ābition, to haue brought the others vertuous patience vnder them (like childish maisters) thinke their masterhood nothing, without doing iniury to them, who (if wee will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same partes of the minde for the exercise of vertue, as we are. And for example, euen this estate of Amazons, (which I know for my greatest honor do seek to counterfait) doth well witnes, that if generally the sweetnes of their disposition did not make them see the vainnesse of these thinges, which wee accōpt 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 wee haue such excellēcies, it is reason to thinke them excellent creatures, of whom wee are: since a Kite neuer brought foorth a good flying Hauke. But to tell you true, as I thinke it superfluous to vse any wordes of such a subiect, which is so praysed 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 to them I so inwardly honor. Let this suffice, that they are capable of vertue and vertue (ye your selues say) is to be loued, & I too truly: but this I willingly confesse, 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 coulde 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 now handling of me giues me reason to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breath himselfe, hauing beene 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 minde 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 mē 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 weake harte, shoulde bee, as it were, the matter and forme of loue) rather touch me, deare Musidorus, then loue: But I am good witnesse of mine owne imperfections, and therefore will not defende
myselfe: but herein I must say, you deale contrary to your selfe: for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason stir me vp as ye did, by remembrance of my owne vertue: or if indeed I be vertuous, then must ye confesse, that loue hath his working in a vertuous hart: and so no dout hath it, whatsoeuer I be: for if we loue vertue, in whom shall wee loue it but in a vertuous creature? without your meaning bee, I should loue this word vertue, where I see it written in a booke. Those troblesome effectes you say it breedes, be not the faults of loue, but of him that loues; as an vnable vessell to beare such a licour: like euill eyes, not able to looke on the Sun; or like a weake braine, soonest ouerthrowen with the best wine. Euen that heauenly loue you speake of, is accompanied in some harts with hopes, griefes, longinges, and dispaires. And in that heauenly loue, since there are two parts, the one the loue itselfe, th'other the excellencie 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 selfe; which when I haue a while practised in this sorte, then you shall see me turne it to greater matters. And thus gentlie you may (if it please you) thinke 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 saide 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 art bent rather in deeds to performe, then in wordes to defende the noble desire that 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 (saide 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 (saide 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 ende. Enioying, answered Pyrocles, with a deepe sigh. O (saide 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 (aunswered Pyrocles) I spake of the ende to which it is directed; which end ends not, no sooner then the life. Alas, let your owne braine disenchaunt you (saide Musidorus.) My hart is too farre possessed (saide 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 lift 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 doo now beseech you euen for the loue betwixt vs (if this other loue haue left any in you tovvards me) and for the remembrance of your olde careful father (if you can remēber him that forget your selfe) lastly for Pyrocles ovvn sake (who is novv vpon the point of falling or rising) to purge your selfe of this vile infection; other vvise giue me leaue, to leaue of this name of freindship, as an idle title of a thing vvhich cannot be, vvhere vertue is abolished. The length of these speaches before had not so much cloied Pyrocles, though he vvere very impatient of long deliberations, as this last farevvell of him he loued as his ovvne life, did vvound his soule for thinking him selfe afflicted, he vvas the apter to conceiue vnkindnesse deepely: insomuch, that shaking his head, and deliuering some shevve of teares, he thus vttered his greifes. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, hovv cruelly you deale with me; if you seeke the victorie, take it and if ye list, the 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 blacke fethers. But truely you deale with me like a Phisition, that seeing his patient in a pestilēt feuer, should chide him, in steed of ministring helpe, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a friēd, that visiting his friend condemned to perpetuall prison; and loaden with greeuous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he would leaue him. I am sick, and sick to the death; I am prisoner, neither is there any redresse, but by her to whom I am slaue. Now if you list, 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 extremitie.
And herewith the deepe wound of his loue being rubbed a fresh with this new vnkindnes, began (as it were to bleed againe, in such sort that he was vnable to beare it any longer, but gushing out aboundance of teares, and crossing his armes ouer his woefull hart, he suncke downe
•
to the ground which sodaine trance went so to the hart of Musidorus, that falling downe by him and kissing the weping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speach; which if it had beene 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 sorte, as the nature of it required. But euen this kindnes made Pyrocles the more melte in the former vnkindenes, which his manlike teares well shewed, with a silent look vpon 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 greefe being notable 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 vnkindenes to be neuer aright, but betwixt them that most dearely loue.
And thus remained 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 (sayde 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 man. And that authoritie will I begin to take vpon me, with three absolute cōmandemēts: The first, that you increase not your euill with further
griefes: the second, that you loue her with all the powers of your mind: and the last commandement shalbe, ye command me to do what seruice I can, towardes the attaining of your desires. Pyrocles hart was not so oppressed with the two mighty passions of loue and vnkindnes, but that it yeelded to some mirth at his commaundement of Musidorus; that he should loue: so that some thing cleering his face from his former shewes of griefe; Well (said he) deare cousin, I see by the well choosing of your commandementes, that you are farre fitter to be a Prince, then a Counseller: & therfore I am resolued to imploy all my endeuour to obey you; with this condition that the commandementes ye commaund me to lay vpon you, shall onely bee, that you continue to loue me, and looke vpon my imperfections, with more affection then iudgement. Loue you? (said hee) 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 therefore receiue a cleere vnderstanding, which many times we misse, while those things we account small, as a speech, or a looke 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 chance any should come, say that you are a seruant sent from the Queene of the Amazons to seeke mee and then let mee, alone for the rest. So sate they downe, and Pyrocles thus said.
Cousin (said he) then began the fatall ouerthrow of all my libertie when walking among the pictures in Kalāders house, you your selfe deliuerd vnto me what you had vnderstood of Philoclea, who much resembling (though I must say much surpassing) the Ladie Zelmane, whom so well I loued: there were mine eyes infected, and at your mouth did I drinke my poison. Yet alas so sweete was it vnto me, that I could not be contented, till Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaration. 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 wonderfull passion 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 kinde of desire, to see rare sights; and my pitie to be no other, but the fruits of a gentle nature. But euen this arguing with my selfe came of further thoughts; and 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 beene much for my learning; but more desirous to see her selfe, to be iudge, for sooth, of the painters cunning. For thus at the first did I flatter my self, as though my wound had bene no deeper: but when within short time I came to the degree of vncertaine wishes, and that those wishes grew to vnquiet longinges, when I could fix my thoughts vpon nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philoclea:
when each thing I saw, seemed to figure out some parte of my passions; when 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 sounde of Philocleas name: then indeed, then I did yeeld to the burthen, finding my selfe prisoner, before I had leasure to arme my selfe; and that I might well, like the spaniell, 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 to my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say corrupted) I must confesse, conquered; and that me thought euen reason did assure me, that all eyes did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beautie? Nothing in trueth coulde holde any plea with it, but the reuerent friendship I beare vnto you. For as it went against my harte to breake any way from you, so did I feare more then any assault to breake it to you: finding (as it is indeed) that to a hart fully resolute, counsaile is tedious, but reprehension is lothsome: and that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty hart, then the eie of a respected friend. This made me determine with my selfe, (thinking it a lesse fault in frendship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your will) to take this secret course: Which conceit was most builded vp in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; whē vpō your speach with me, & my but naming loue, (whē els perchaūce I would haue gone further) I saw your voice and countenance so chaunge, as it assured me, my reuealing it should but purchase your griefe with my cumber: & therfore (deere Musidorus) euen ran away from thy wel knowne chiding: for hauing writtē a letter, which I know not whether you found or no, and taken my chiefe iewels with mee, while you were in the middest of your sport, I got a time (as I thinke) vnmarked by any, 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 remēbring by Philanax his letter, & Kalāders speech, how obstinately Basilius
was determined not to mary his daughters, & therefore fearing, lest any publike dealing should rather increase her captiuitie, then further my loue; Loue (the refiner of inuentiō) had put in my head thus to disguise my selfe, that vnder that maske I might (if it were possible,) get accesse, and what accesse could bring foorth, commit to fortune & industry: determining to beare the countenance of an Amazon.
Therefore 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 heard at hand, by night, thus dressed my selfe, resting till occasion might make me to be 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 knowe 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 cope being plesure, wil not so much as vtter his griefes, but in some form of pleasure.
But I had song very little, when (as I thinke displeased with my bad musicke) comes master Dametas with a hedging bill in his hand, chasing, and swearing by the pantable of Pallas, & such other othes as his rusticall brauery could imagine; & when he saw me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him then my harmony;
for leaning his hands vpon his bil, and his chin vpon his hands, 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? hee needed not name himselfe: for Kalanders description had set such a note vpon him, as made him very notable vpon 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, and therefore the apter to thinke himselfe contemned) tooke in so hainous manner, that standing vpon his tip-toes, and staring as if he would haue had a mote pulled out of his eie, Why (said he) thou woman, or boy, or both, whatsoeuer thou bee, 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 manner, 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 howe 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 (saide 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 Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sworde, the basenesse of the villaine yet made me stay my hande, and he (who, as Kalander tolde mee, from his childehood euer feared the blade of a sworde) ran backe, backward (with his handes 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, findinge himselfe without the compasse of blowes, hee fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerlie manner, as might well shewe hee had passed through the discipline of a Tauerne. But seeing mee 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 deede shewes in his countenaunce of an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesie as Dametas with rudenesse saluting mee, Faire Lady (saide hee) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receiue solitary persons; but much doe I maruaile howe 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) cannot in this your lonelines neither warrant you from suspition in others, nor defende you from melancholy in your selfe. I then shewing a mislike that he pressed me so farre, I seeke no better warrant (saide I) then my owne conscience, nor no greater pleasure, then mine owne contentation. Yet vertue seekes to satisfie others, (saide Basilius.) Those that bee good (saide I,) and they will bee satisfied as long as they see no euill. Yet will the best in this country, (saide Basilius) suspect so excellent 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 euerye 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 country, that I must needes desire to knowe 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 country: the rest, either fame hath alreadie 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 reuerence vnto him, Mightye Prince (said I) let my not knowing you serue for the excuse of my boldenes, and the little reuerence I doe you, impute it to the manner of my country, which is the inuincible Land of the Amazons; My selfe neece to Senicia, Queene thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slaine by the bloudie 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 countries, till the vnmercifull Sea depriued me of my company: so that shipwrack casting me not farre hence, vncertaine wandring brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to tast of 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 passengers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned alredye so much, that it was against my womanhood to be forward in my owne wishes. And therefore he (to prooue whether intercessions in fitter mouths might better preuaile) commaunded Dametas to bring forth with 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 fairenes (being in the strength 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 worthye 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 shewe an obedience, taken on shepeardish apparell, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a straight body, open brested, the nether parte full 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 shew how farre her haire doth excell in colour: betwixt her breasts (which sweetlye rase vp like two faire Mountainettes in the pleasaunt vale of Tempe) there honge a verie riche Diamond set but in a blacke horne, the worde I haue since read is this; yet still my selfe. And thus particularlie 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 Triumph of Nature, the life of
beauty the Queene of Loue, young Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like apparell, so neare nakednes, as one might well discerne part of her per
••
ctions; and yet so apparelled, as did shew she kept best store of her beauty to her selfe: her haire (alas too poore a word, why should I not rather call thē her beames) drawē vp into a net, able to haue caught Iupiter when he was in the forme of an Egle; 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 imagination 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 wonderfull shining, or that she, (goddesse like) would work this miracle with her selse, 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, and the apples me thought, fell downe from the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast; Then the cloudes gaue place, that the heauens might more freely smile vpon 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 obi
•
ct made meere-couer my sences: so that I coulde with reasonable good manner receiue the salutation of her, and of the princesse Pamela, doing them yet no further reuerence then one Princesse 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, (said I) let not the world, nor these great princesses 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 May) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (saide she) it is no maruaile to see your iudgemēt much mistaken in my beauty, since you beginne with so great an errour, as to do more honour vnto me then to them, to 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 shee 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 to do, Well (said she) I must needes confesse I haue heard that it is a great happines to bee praised of th
•
m that are most praise worthie; And well I finde that you are an inuincibl
•
Amazon, since you will ouercome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty bee any thing, then let it obtaine thus much of you, that you will remaine some while in this companie, 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 solitarines
•
e 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 countrey, being diuersified betwene hills and dales, woods and playnes, one place more cleere, an 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.
So Gynecia her selfe bringing me to my Lodging, anone after I was inuited and brought downe to sup with them in the gardein, a place not fairer in naturall ornaments, then artificiall inuentions: where, in 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 proofe 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 round, 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 mee, and that onely my eyes did ouertake her? which when the table was stayed, and wee began 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, sometimes cloze vp with admiration, as if with a contrary fancie, they would preserue the riches of that fight they had gotten, or cast my liddes as curtaines ouer the image of beautie, her pre
•
ence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now growen a seruant to passion) did yet often tell 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 Counseller: so that my senses delights being too strong 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 reueale my selfe 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 priuate 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 thinke Cupid hauing headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was striken (taking me to be such as I professe) with great affection towards me, which since is growen to such a doting loue, that (till I was faine to get 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 apparell, 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 thinke 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 showers of affection to Philoclea (which loue forced me vnwisely to vtter, while hope of my maske foolishly incouraged me) or that she hath takē some other marke of me, that I am not a woman: or what deuill it is hath reuealed it vnto her, I know not; but so it is, that all her countenances, words and gestures, are euen 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: and Basilius as busie about me as a Bee, and indeed as cumbersome; making such vehement suits to me, who neither 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 ielious is she of my loue to her daughter, that I could neuer yet beginne to opē my mouth to the vneuitable Philoclea, but that her vnwished presence gaue my tale a conclusion, 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, hee 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 bee knowen by her, that keepes her from bewraying mee 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 with he ended, making a full point of a hartie sigh.
Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricatenesse, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze; yet perceauing his affection so groūded, 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 cannot see wherein I can be seruisable vnto you. I desire no greater seruice of you (answered Pyrocles) thē 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 shall haue my key to enter, bicause as my fortune, eyther amends or empaires. I may declare it vnto you, and haue your counsell and furtheraunce: and hereby I will of purpose leade 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 will come vnto you; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge; it is harde at hande. But now, (sayd she) it is time for me to leaue you, and towardes euening we 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 sort, 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.
Zelmane 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 raind, 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 sorrow. Their affection increased their conuersation; and their conuersation increased their affection. The respect borne bred due ceremonies; but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmanes eyes were (like children before 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 led 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 sit downe, and pretie wagers be made betweene
Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the fit 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 himselfe of what was so caught, and Gynecia sit still, but with no still 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, caused all the Kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the world is deceaued) thinking her prosperous, when indeede she was wounded, made the poore Kite find, that opinion of riches may well 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 Gentleman desired leaue to do a message from his Lord vnto him. Basilius granted; whereupon the Gentleman came, and after the dutifull ceremonies obserued, in his maisters name tolde him, that he was sent from Phalantus 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 sixe 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 himselfe 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 thinke 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) would 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 good iusting, 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 part 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, and an excellent courtier without vnfaithfulnes; 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 gotten the reputation of one, that both durst and knew. But as it was rather choise then nature, that led him to matters of armes, so as soone as the spur of honor ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delightes, being beloued in all companies for his louely qualities, and (as a man may terme it) winning cherefulnes, whereby to the Prince and Court of Laconia, none was more agreable then Phalantus: and he not giuen greatly to struggle with his owne disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, hauing a fortune sufficient to content, and he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he sawe, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beautie he now defends, became her seruant, sayd himselfe, and perchaunce thought himselfe her louer. But certainly, said Basilius) many times it falles out, that these young companions 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 leaue 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 only 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, had taught her to thinke that there is no wisdome but in including both heauen and earth in ones selfe: and that loue, courtesie, gratefulnesse, friendship, and all other vertues are rather to be taken on, then taken in ones selfe: And so good a disciple she found of her, that liking the fruits of her owne planting, she was content (if so her sonne could haue liked of it) to haue wished her in mariage 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 Cecr
•
pia, she thinks no face so beautifull, as that which lookes vnder a Crowne. But Artesia indeede liked well of my Nephew Amphialus; for I can neuer deeme that loue, which in hauty harts proceeds of a desire onely to please, and as it were, peacock themselues; but yet she hath shewed vehemencie of desire that way, I thinke, because all her desires be vehement, in so much that she hath both placed her only 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 melancholie (though I must say truly courteous and noble) mind, seemes to loue nothing lesse then Loue: and of late hauing through some aduenture, or inward miscontentment, withdrawne himselfe from any bodies knowledge, where he is: Artesia the easier condiscended to goe to the court of Laconia, whether she was sent for by the Kings 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 seruaunt, and she so little caring, as not to showe mislike thereof, was content onely to be noted to haue a notable seruaunt. 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 himselfe anie great trouble in minde, whether he sped or no. And she of the other side, well finding how little it was, and not caring for more, yet taught him, that often it falleth out but a foolish wittinesse, to speake more then one thinkes.
For she made earnest benefite of his iest, forcing him in respect of his profession, to doo her such seruice, as were both cumbersome and costly vnto him, while he still 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 doth in some that haue delightfull meate before them, and haue no stomacke to it, before other folkes prayse it) shee tooke the aduauntage one daye vppon Phalantus vnconscionable praysinges of her, and certaine cast-awaie vowes, howe much hee 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, and 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. Exceedingly 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 little 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 withall (as he said) he could not so much beleeue his loue, but that he must thinke in his hart (whatsoeuer his mouth affirmed) that both she, my daughters, & 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 therefore 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 & Corinth: and (as many times it happens) that a good pleader maks a bad cause to preuaile; so hath his Lawnce brought captiues to the triumph of Artesias beautie, such, as though Artesia be amōg the fairest, yet in that cōpany were to haue the preheminēce: for in those courts many knights (that had bene in other far countries) defended such as they had sene, & liked in their trauaile: but their defēce had ben such; as they had forfaited the pictures 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 and true consideration an iniurious seruice and churlish curtesie, to put the danger of so noble a title in the deciding of such a dangerles combat, I would make yong master Phalantus know, that your eyes can sharpen a blunt Launce, and that age, which my gray 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 hee bustled vp himselfe, as though his heart would faine haue walked abroad. Zelmane with an inwarde smiling gaue him outward thanks, desiring him to reserue his force for worthier causes. So passing their time according to their woont, they wayted for the comming 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 be 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 signifiyng, that it was the beauty which gaue it the praise.
Himselfe came in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnation veluet inriched with purle and pearle, wherein Artesia sat, drawne by foure winged horses with artificiall flaming mouths, and fiery winges, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phoebus. Before her marched, two after two, certaine footemen 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 (following 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) serued, (though some yeares since retourned home) with more gratefulnes then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed witte; for indeede she was not comparable 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 neither Maiestie, grace, fauour, nor fairenesse; yet she wanted not a seruaunt 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, and well placed her most delightfull coulours; and withall, 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 reason whereof might seeme a mannish countenance, which ouerthrew that louely sweetenes, the noblest power of womankinde, farre fitter to preuaile by parley, then by battell.
Of a farre contrary consideration 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, and after acknowledge it faire, for there was a certaine delicacie, which in yeelding, conquered; and with a pitifull looke made one finde 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 fatnes rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her brests ouer-familiarly laide open, with a made countenaunce about her mouth, betweene simpring and smyling, her head bowed somewhat downe seemed to languish with ouer-much idlenes, and with an inuiting look cast vpwarde; disswaded with too much perswading, while hope might seem to ouerrunne 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, and ment no hurt, her eyes hauing in them such a cheerefulnes, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheekes obeyed to that prety demurenes which the more one markte, the more one woulde iudge the poore soule apte to beleue; and therefore the more pitie to deceiue her.
Next came the Queene of Laconia, one that semed borne in the confines of beauties kingdome: for all her lineaments were neither perfect possessioners thereof, nor absolute strangers thereto
•
but she was a Queene, and therefore beautifull.
But she that followed, conquered indeed with being conquered; and might wel haue made all the beholders waite vpō her triumph, while her selfe were led captiue. It was the excellētly-faire Queene Helen, whose Iacinth haire courled by nature, but intercurled by arte (like a fine brooke through goldē sādes) had a rope of faire pearle which now hiding, now hidden by the haire, did as it were play at fast and loose, each with other, mutually giuing & receiuing richnes. In her face so much beauty & fauour expressed, as if Helen had not bene knowen, some would rather haue iudged it the painters exercise, to shew what he could do, thē the conterfaiting of any liuing patterne: for no fault the most fault finding wit could haue found, 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 wanted any thing in maiestie, it supplied it, with increase, in pleasure; and if at the first it strake not admiration, it rauished with delight. And no indifferent soule there was, which if it could resist frō subiecting it selfe to make it his princesse, that would not lōg to haue such a playfellow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (sixt with more sadnes then it semed nature had bestowed to any that knew her fortune) bewraied, that as she vsed those ornaments, not for herselfe, but to preuaile with another so she feared, that all would not serue. 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 the humblenes. For her great graie eye, which might seeme full of her own beautie:, 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 deserue, or not to neede 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) grewe artificiall. But Basilius coulde 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 shee (more sporting then sorrowing for her vndeserued champion) tolde her husbande, shee desired to bee beautifull in no bodies eye but his; and that shee 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 woulde Basilius haue tolde Zelmane that which she already knew, of the rare triall of that coupled affection: but the next picture made their mouthes giue place to their eyes.
It was of a young mayd, which sate pulling out a thorne out of a Lambes 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 all 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 (comparing 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 and colors, but erring in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the tombes of their Mistresses, thē the triumphe of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (saide Basilius) some of them bee dead, and some other captiue: But that hath happened so late, as it may bee 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 engrauen in them. 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.
Thus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter subiect to speake of, with his mistresse, while Phalantus in this pompous maner, brought Artesia with her gentlewomen, into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both wayted who would first strike vpon the shielde, while Basilius the Iudge appointed sticklers and troumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till all ready 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 hee had nettings cast ouer, in which were diuers fishes naturally made, and 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 vpō his armour and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of Iuniper, 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; hee 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 seruice. 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 asmuch discomforted, as discomfited. Then Telamon for Polexena and Eurileon for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana; all braue Knights, all faire Ladies, with their going downe, 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, and his face would not allow him a man) brown of complexion (whether by nature or by the Suns familiaritie) but very louely with all; for the rest so perfectly proportioned, that Nature shewed, shee 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 hee cast ouer his shoulder doing all things with so pretie a grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do a misse, because he had a hart to do well, holding in his right hand a long staffe, & so cōming with a looke ful of amiable fiercenes as in whō choller could not take away the sweetnes, hee 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 heart wil break if I say not my mind 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 downe 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 hee 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 hee 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 beginning 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 country, 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 in fancie loued her, and was striken by her, before shee was able to knowe what quiuer of arrowes her eyes caried; but he loued and dispaired; and the more hee dispaired, the more hee 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 complaintes within it selfe, that while all his senses were attentiue thereto, cunning iudges might perceaue his minde: so that hee was knowne to loue though hee denied, or rather was the better knowne, because hee denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea couler, his Impresa, the fish 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 straight ielousie was a harbinger for disdaine in Zelmanes harte, when shee sawe any (but her selfe) shoulde bee auowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch that she wisht his shame, till shee sawe him shamed: for at the second course he was striken quite from out of the saddle, so full of griefe, 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, hee went his way, leauing Zelmane no lesse angry with his losse, then shee would haue bene with his victory. For if she thought before a riuals prayse would 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 shee sawe a pretie blush in Philocleas cheekes bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commaunded truce for those sportes, and Phalantus (though intreated) would not leaue Artesia, who in no case would come into the house, hauing (as it were) suckte 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 watchfull stars leaue to take their rest, when a trumpet
summoned Basilius to play his iudges parte: which he did, taking his wife and 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 newe Knight was quickly knowne to be Clitophon (Kalanders sonne of Basilius his sister) by his armour, which all guilt, was so well handled, that it shewed like a glittering sande and grauell, enterlaced with siluer riuers: his deuice hee 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 hee had parted from Helen (who woulde no longer his companie, finding him to enter into termes of affection,) hee had performed so honourable actions, (still seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphantus,) that though his face were couered, his being was discouered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him vp in his court) woulde 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, and 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 vpon the head and that once Clitophon had receiued such a blowe, that hee had lost the raines of his horse, with his head well nie touching the croper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the iudgemēt, (where in he thought he had receiued wrong) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, and vncle; and sodainly went his way still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking: and so yeelded the field to the next commer.
who comming in about two houres after, was no lesse marked then all 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 rustie poorenesse,) that it might better seeme a monument of his graundfathers courage: about his middle he had in steede of bases, a long cloak 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 hee had to meete one who had beene victorious of so many gallants. But hee 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 shielde almost assoone as hee, and so strongly, that hee brake the shielde in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the beholders called him) angrie with that, (as hee 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 swords 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 two aduersaries, striking him, who strooke the third, and reuenging perhaps that of him, which he had receaued of the other.
But Basilius rising himselfe came 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 hee 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 euen in that little quantitie, the excellencie of that would shine thorowe the weakenesse of the other: as the smallest starre doth thorow the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this blacke Knight, who had (as hee saide) 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 defende 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 commandements, they fell to such a bickering, that hee gat a halting, and lost his picture. This vnderstoode by Basilius, he told him hee was now fitter to looke to his owne bodie, then an others picture: and so (vncomforted therein) sent him away to learne of AEsculapius 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, hee 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, and the best comparison I could make of her, is of the Sunne and of all the other 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 mee 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 himselfe receyuing 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 bee 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 by apparelled Knight; Phalantus disgrace was ingrieued in lieu of cōfort of 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 (said 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 sport 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 seruice 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 went away repining at his luck, that had kept him from winning the honor, as he knew he should haue done, to the picture of Pamela) the ill apparelled Knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to shew him to Zelmane) puld off his Helmet, and then was knowen 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 off from the Lodge, had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she should be obeyed) and borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come vpon the spur to redeeme 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 countrye of the noble Amazons, could withstand it: and vnder that pretext faine she would haue giuen a secret pasport to her affection. But this act painted at one instant rednesse in Philocleas face, and palenesse in Gynecias, but brought forth no other countenances but of admiration, no speeches but of commendations: all these few (besides loue) thinking they honoured themselues, 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 off
•
seruants, who though they came not vncalled, yet at call were redye.
And so many daies were spent, and many waies vsed, while Zelmane was like one that stoode in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, and Gynecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest deere from her. But the day being come, on which according to an apointed course, the sheapheards were to assemble, and 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 apparrell who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seeme he was allowed there. A long cloke he had on, but that cast vnder his right arme, wherein he held a sheephooke, so finely wrought, that it gaue a brauery to pouerty; and 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 sometimes cast vp to heauen, as though his fancies straue to mount higher; sometimes throwne downe to the ground, as if the earth could not beare the burthen of his sorrowes; at length, with a lamentable tune, he song these fewe verses.
Come shepheards weedes, become your masters minde:
Yeld outward shew, what inward change 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 selues 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 oneword 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 maruailing not a little, she demaunded of him, whether the Goddesse of those woods had such a powre to transforme 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 wit, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation? certainely by loue we are made, and to loue we are made. Beasts only 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, could 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 the Pulpit against louers, are you now become so meane an auditor? Remember that loue is a passion; and that a worthie mans reason must euer haue the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cryed Musidorus,) and withall falling downe prostrate, O thou celestiall, or infernall spirit of Loue, or what other heauenly 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 (said Musidorus taking her
•
ast by the hand) euen for the truth of our friendship, of which (if I be not altogether an vnhappy man) thou hast some rememberance, and by those secret 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 and behauiour, did so liuely deliuer out his inward griefe, that Zelmane found indeede, he was thorowly wounded: but there rose a new ielousy in her minde, lest it might be with Philoclea, by whome, 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 off) guided me to a young shepheards house, by name Menalcas, who seing me to be a straying
stranger, with the right honest hospitalitie which seemes to be harboured in the Arcadian brests, and 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 obserue. And so hether to your arbour diuers times repaired: and here by your meanes had the sight (O that it had neuer bene so, nay, O that it might euer be so) of the 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, whē the Ladies came foorth; at which sight, I thinke the very words returned backe againe to strike my soule; at least, an vnmeasurable sting I felt in my selfe, that I had spokē such words. At which sight? said Zelmane, not able to beare him any longer. O (said 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 consideration 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 shield 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, will strike himselfe againe 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 ground 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 back-side 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 preuented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you seruice, haue now my selfe most need of succor. But whereupon got you your selfe this aparrell? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tell 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 Gentle-man, who by mischaunce hauing killed a great fauorit of the Prince of that country, 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 persecutors might be asswaged) to disguise my selfe among the shephards of Arcadia, and (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 disposition)
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, and to deliuer him a letter from me; coniuring him to bring me as speedy an answere as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whether certaine of my friends did yet possesse any fauour, whose intercessions 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 seruant Calodoulus (whome you know) that assoone as he had deliuered the letter, he should keepe him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to haue conference with any body, till he knew 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, then of any kingdome: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one vnto, is the contentment of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now haue I chosen this day, because (as Menalcas told me) the other shepheards are called to make their sports, and hope that you will with your credite, finde meanes to get me allowed among them. You need 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 seruile flatterie is lodged most easilie in the grossest capacitie; for their ordinarie conceite draweth a yeelding to their greaters, and then haue they not wit to discerne the right degrees of duetie) is much more seruiceable 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
•
arth (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 vpon 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.
No 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 well prouided sort 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 inuite 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 durst 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 M
•
nalcas (latelie gone thether to fetch him home) was also deceased: where (vpon his death) he had charged him to seeke the seruice 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 seruice, that his mind and manners 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 flaue to that, which he, that sued to be his seruant, 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 contented) that then he would receiue him into his seruice.
And thus went they to the Lodge, where they found Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselues 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 whome he meant to confer, 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 streames, and yet feeke to close the eie with the purling noise it made vpon the pibble stones it ran ouer: the field it selfe being set in
•
ome places with roses, and in all the rest constantly preseruing 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 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 answering another) they became a gallery aloft from tree to tree almost round about, which below gaue a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the cholericke looke of Phoebus.
In this place while Gynecia walked hard by them, carying many vnquiet contentions about her, the Ladies sate them downe, inquiring diuerse questions of the shepheard Dorus; who (keeping his eie still vpon Pamela) answered with such a trembling voice, and abashed countenance, and 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 hand of Philoclea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stand there like a hand in the margine of a Booke, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speake these words. O Loue, since thou art so changeable in mens estates, how art thou so constant 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 hunted in Forests far off, were by chaunce come thether, where before such beastes had neuer bene seene. Then care, not feare; or feare, not for themselues, altered some thing the countenances 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 Lion, but that obeying the commandement of feare, she lept vp, and 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 euen ready to seaze. But the Lion (seing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, and was ready to seaze him selfe on the pray, when
Zelmane (to whome daunger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the composition of her elements 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 all his body: wherewith the valiant beast turning vpon her with open iawes, she gaue him such a thrust thorow his brest, that all the Lion 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 taken away the effect of his force. But there withall he fell downe, and 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 presented 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. Neither were they long 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 comming: 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 inward 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 she neither knew, nor cared to know whether. But now, being all come before
Basilius amazed with this sight, and feare hauing such possession 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 downe, and presenting the Lions head vnto her. Only Ladie (said she) here see you the punishment of that vnnaturall beast, which contrary to his owne kind would 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 swords. 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 vpō
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 & 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 serued to vertuous courage, which euen Ladies would (euer with the contempt of cowardes) seeme to cherish. But looking vpon it (which gaue more inward bleeding wounds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feele Philocleas touch, whiles she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no importance: yet applied shee a pretious baulme vnto it, of power to heale a greater griefe.
But euen then, and not before, they remembred Pamela, and therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running back to be satisfied, when they might all see Pamela comming between Dorus and Dametas, hauing in her hand the paw of a Beare, which the shepheard Dorus had newly presented vnto her, de
•
iring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserued death for her presumption, yet was her witt 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 when he came so neere, as he might be heard of Basilius, hee would needs breake thorow his eares with this ioyfnll song of their good successe,
NOw thanked be the great God Pan,
which thus preserues my loued life:
Thanked be I that keepe a man,
who ended hath this bloodie strife:
For if my man must praises haue,
what then must I that keepe the knaue?
For as the Moone the eie 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 all now come together, and all desirous to know each others aduētures, Pamelas noble hart would needs gratefully make known the valiāt mean of her safety which (directing her speach to her mother) she did in this māner. As soone (said she) as ye were all runne away, and that I hoped to bee 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 wisedom which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but euen pure feare bringing forth that effect of wisedome) fell downe flat of my face, needing not counterfait being dead for indeed I was litle better. But this yong shepheard with a wonderfull courage hauing no other weapon, but that knife you see standing before the place where I lay, so behaued himselfe that the first
sight I had (when I thought my selfe already neare Charons ferry,) was the shepheard shewing me his bloudy knife in token of victory. I pray you (said 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, and 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 remembrance) breed any danger 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 comming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discipher 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 (sayd 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 shee 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 wee both perceiued the gentle Dametas, lying with his head and breast as farre as hee could thrust himselfe into a bush, drawing vp his legges as close vnto him as hee coulde: for, like a man of a very kinde nature, soone to take pittie of himselfe, hee was full resolued not to see his owne death. And when this sheephearde pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheere; it was a great while, ere we coulde perswade him, that Dorus was not the beare: so that he was faine to pull him out by the heeles, and shew him the beast, as deade as he could wish it: which you may beleeue me, was a very ioyfull sight vnto him. But then he forgate all courtesie, for he fell vpon the beast, giuing it many a manfull wound: swearing by much, it was not well such beasts should be suffered in a common welth. And then my gouernour, as full of ioy, as before of feare came dauncing and singing before 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 plainnesse & honestie, & therin I know he wil 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 off, both in such extremitie of praising, as was easie to be se
•
ne, the construction of their speach might best be made by the Grammer rules of affectiō. 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 very face of the young
Hercules killing the Nemean Liō, & al with a grateful assent cōfirmed the same praises: only poore Dorus (though of equal desert, yet not proceeding of equal estate) should haue bene left forgottē, had not Zelmane again with great admiratiō begun to speake of him; asking, whether it were the fa
•
hion or no, in Arcadia, that shepherds shoulde performe such valorous enterprises.
This Basilius (hauing the quicke sence of a louer) tooke, as though his Mistres had giuen him 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 hee 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, and excused his going to souldierie, by the vnaptnesse he found in himselfe that way: he tolde Basilius, that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serue Dametas; and therefore (for due obedience thereunto) he would thinke his seruice greatly rewarded, if hee 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 (hee sticked 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 fall into then his owne) accepted Dorus: and withall telling Basilius, that some of the shepheards were come; demaunded in what place hee would see their sports: who first curious to know whether it were not more requisite for Zelmanes hurte to rest, then sit vp at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to haue the Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should bee at the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being (according to the auncient manner) he made Zelmane sit betweene him and his wife therein, who thought her selfe betweene drowning and burning: & the two young Ladies of either side the throne and so prepared their eyes and eares to be delighted by the shepheards.
But before all 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 tolde Basilius, that his Mistres, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beastes ranging in that dangerous sort, being happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himselfe able to rule them, had caried them abroad, and 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 she had any more such beastes, should cause them to be killed: and then hee told his wife and 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 greatly
Cecropia, because she 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 shee 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 maruelled, 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 well handling themselues, called their senses to attend their pastimes,
The first Ecloges.
BAsilius, because Zelmane so would haue it, vsed the artificiall day of torches, to lighten the sportes their inuentions could minister. And because many of the shepheardes were but newlie come, hee did in a gentle manner chastise their negligence with making them (for that night) the Torchbearers; and the others, he willed with all freedome of speech and behauiour, to keepe their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdayned (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his seruant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them; and himself stood like a directer ouer them, 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, wearful of such leapes and 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 only 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 answere.
We loue, and are no whit regarded,
The first againe.
We finde moste sweete affections snare.
With like tune it should be as in a quire sent backe againe,
That sweete, but sower dispairefull care.
A third time likewise thus:
Who can dispaire, whom hope doth beare?
The answere:
And who can hope that feeles despaire?
Then all ioyning their voyces, and dauncing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such wordes:
As without breath, no pipe doth mone:
No musicke kindlye without loue.
Hauing thus varied both their songs and daunces into diuers sorts of inuentions; their last sport was one of them to prouoke an other to a more large expressing of his passions: which Thyrsis (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) hauing marked in Dorus dauncing no lesse good grace & hansome behauiour, then extreame tokens of a troubled mind; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to chalenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the vnder-written sorte.
Thyrsis and Dorus.
Thyrsis.
Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorrowes signifie
And if for want of vse thy minde ashamed is,
That very shame with loues high title dignifie.
No stile is held for base, where loue well named is:
Each eare suckes vp the words, a true loue scattereth,
And plaine speach oft, then quaint phrase better framed is.
Dorus.
Nightingales seldome sing, the Pie still chattereth
The wood cries most, before it throughly kindled be
•
Deadly wounds inward bleed, each sleight sore mattereth.
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.
Shallow brookes murmure most, deep silent slide away,
Nor true loue loues his loues with others mingled be.
Thyrsis.
If thou wilt not be seene, thy face goe hide away,
Be none of vs, or els maintaine our fashion:
Who frownes at others feastes, doth 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 deserueth most compassion.
Dorus.
Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)
Thy health too meane a match for my infection.
No though the heau'ns for high attempts haue blamed me,
Yet high is my attempt. O Muse historifie
Her praise, whose praise to learne your skill hath framed me.
Thyrsis.
Muse holde your peace: but thou my God Pan glorifie
My Kalas giftes: who with all good gifts filled.
Thy pipe, ô Pan, shall help, though I sing sorilie
A heape of sweetes she is, where nothing spilled is;
Who though she be no Bee, yet full of honie 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 conuersation
More gladde to me, then to a miser monie is.
What coye account she makes of estimation?
How nice to touch? how all her speeches peized be?
A Nimph thus turnde, but mended in translation.
Dorus.
Such Kala is: but ah my fancies raised 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 keepe it ioynde, fearing your seates consumption.
How oft with rayne of teares skies make confession,
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection
From heau'enly 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.
Thyrsis.
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 fitt 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 wind he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all
My sight in her faire limmes I then assure my selfe,
Not rotten sheepe, but high crownes she surpasseth all.
Can I be poore, that her golde haire procure my selfe?
Want I white wooll, whose eyes her white skinne garnished?
Till I get her, shall I to keepe enure my selfe?
Dorus.
How oft, when reason saw, loue of her harnised
With armour of my hart he cried, O vanitie
To set a pearle in steele so meanly 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 in humanitie
Thus Reason said: but she came, Reason vanished;
Her eyes so maistering me, that such obiection
Seem'd but to spoyle the foode of thoughts long famished,
Her peereles height my minde to high erection
Drawes vp; and if hope fayling end liues pleasure,
Of fayrer death how can I make election?
Thyrsis.
Once my well waiting eyes espied my treasure,
With sleeues turnde vp, loose hair, and brest enlarged,
Her fathers corne (mouing her fair limmes) measure.
O cried I, of so meane worke be discharged:
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling
With seed 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 beare, this fruite I reaped,
That she, whose looke alone might make me blessed,
Did smile on me and then away she leaped.
Dorus.
Once, O 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 therwith 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 selues recouer.
I cried and was with open rayes rewarded:
But straight they fledd, summond by cruell honor,
Honor, the cause desart is not regarded.
Thyrsis.
This mayde, thus made for ioyes, ô Pan bemone her,
That without loue she spends her yeares of loue:
So faire a field would well become an owner.
And if enchantment can a hard hart moue,
Teach me what circle may acquiant her sprite,
Affections charmes in my behalfe to proue.
The circle is my (round about her) sight,
The power I will inuoke dwelles in her eyes:
My charme should be she haunt me day and night.
Dorus.
Farre other case, ô Muse, my sorrow tries,
Bent to such one in whome my selfe must say,
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.
What circle then in so rare force beares sway?
Whose sprite all sprites can foile, raise, damne, or saue:
No charme holdes hir but well possesse she may,
Possesse she doth, and makes my soule her slaue:
My eyes the bandes, my thoughts the fatall knot.
No thrall like them that inward bondage haue.
Thyrsis.
Kala at length conclude my lingring lotte:
Disdaine me not, although I be not faire.
Who is an heir of many hundreth sheep
Doth beawties keep which neuer sunne can burne,
Nor stormes doo turne: fairnes serues oft to wealth.
Yet all my health I place in your good will.
Which if you will (ô 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 field, and as the day begins
With twentie ginnes we will the small birds take,
And pastimes make, as nature things hath made.
But when in shade we meete of mirtle bowes,
Then loue allowes, our pleasures to enrich,
The thought of which doth passe all worldlie pelfe.
Dorus.
Lady your selfe whome neither name I dare,
And titles are but spots to such a worth,
Heare plaints come forth from dungeon of my mind.
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 wamenting yeeld:
Dispaire my fielde; the flowers spirits warrs:
My day new cares; my ginnes my daily sight,
In which doe light small birds of thoughts orethrowne:
My pastimes none: time passeth on my fall.
Nature made all but me of dolours made
I find no shade, but where my Sunne doth burne:
No place to turne; without, within it fries:
Nor helpe by life or death who liuing dyes.
Thyrsis.
But if my Kala thus my sute denyes,
Which so much reason beares:
Let crowes pick out mine eyes which too much sawe.
If shee still hate loues lawe,
My earthy mould, doth melt in watrye teares.
Dorus.
My earthy mould doth melt in watrye teares,
And they againe resolue,
To aire of sighes, sighes to the hartes fire turne
Which doth to ashes burne.
Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue.
Thyrsis.
Thus doth my life within it selfe dissolue
That I growe like the beaste,
Which beares the bytt a weaker force doth guide,
Yet patient must abide.
Such weight it hath which once is full possest.
Dorus.
Such weight it hath which once is full possest
That I become a vision,
Which hath in others head his only being
And liues in fancie seing.
O wretched state of man in selfe diuision!
Thyrsis.
O wretched state of man in selfe diuision
O well thou saiest! a feeling declaration
Thy toong hath made of Cupids deepe incision.
But now hoarse voyce, doth faile this occupation,
And others long to tell their loues condicion.
Of singing thou hast got the reputation.
Dorus.
Of singing thou hast got the reputation
Good Thyrsis mine, I yeld to thy abilitie;
My hart doth seek an other estimation.
But ah my Muse, I would thou hadst facilitie
To worke my goddesse, so by thy inuention,
On me to cast those eyes where shine nobilitie:
Seene and vnknowne, hearde, but without attention.
Dorus did so well in answering Thyrsis, that euery one desired to heare him sing something alone. Seing therfore a Lute lying vnder the Princesse Pamelas feete glad to haue such an errand to approch her, he came, but came with a dismaied grace, all his bloud stirred betwixt feare and desire. And playing vpon it with such sweetenes, as euery bodie wondered to see such skill in a shepeheard, he sang vnto it with a sorrowing voice these Elegiake verses:
Dorus.
— Fortune, Nature, Loue, long haue contended about me,
Which should most miseries, cast on a worme that I am.
— Fortune thus gan say; misery and misfortune is all one,
And of misfortune, fortune hath only the gift.
— With strong foes on land, on seas with contrary tempests
Still doo I crosse this wretch, what so he taketh in hand.
— Tush, tush, said nature, this is all but a trifle, a mans selfe
Giues happs or mishapps, eu'n as he ordreth his hearte.
— But so his humor I frame, in a mould of choller adusted,
That the delights of life shall be to him dolorouse.
— Loue smiled, and thus said; Want ioynd to desire is vnhappy.
But if he nought do desire, what can Heraclitus aile?
— None but I, workes by desire: by desire haue I kindled in his soule
Infernall agonies vnto a bewtye diuine,
— Where thou poore nature left'st all thy due glory, to fortune
Her vertue is soueraine, fortune a vassal of hers.
— Nature abasht went back: fortune blusht: yet she replide thus:
And eu'n in that loue, shall I reserue him a spite.
— Thus, thus, alas! wofull in nature, vnhappy by fortune,
But most wretched I am, now loue awakes my desire.
Dorus when he had soong this, hauing had all the while a free beholding of the faire Pamela (who could well haue spared such honor, and defended the assault he gaue vnto hir face with bringing a faire staine of shamefastnes vnto it) let fall his armes, and remained so fastened in his thoughts, as if Pamela had graffed him there to growe in continuall imagination. But Zelmane espying it, and fearing he should too much forget himselfe, she came to him, and tooke out of his hand the Lute, and laying fast hold of Philocleas face with her eyes, she soong these Sapphikes speaking as it were to hir 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,
H
•
pe 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 gaine;
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 hatefull death can abridge them of powre
With the vowe of truth to record to all worlds
That we be her spoiles?
Thus not ending, ends the due praise of her praise:
Fleshly vaile consumes; but a soule hath his life,
Which is held in loue; loue it is, that hath ioynd
Life to this our soule.
But if eyes can speake to doo harty errand,
Or mine eyes language she doo hap to iudge of,
So that eyes message be of her receaued,
Hope we do liue yet.
Great was the pleasure of Basilius, and greater would haue bene Gynaecias, but that she found too well it was intended to her daughter, As for Philoclea she was swetely rauished withall. When Dorus desiring in a secret maner to speake of their cases, as perchance the parties intended might take some light of it, making lowe reuerence to Zelmane, began this prouoking song in hexameter verse vnto her. Wherevnto she soone finding whither his words were directed (in like tune and verse) answered as foloweth:
Dorus. Zelmane.
Dorus.
Lady reserud by the heau'ns to do pastors company honnor,
Ioyning your sweete voice to the rurall muse of a deserte,
Here you fully do finde this strange operation of loue,
How to the woods loue runnes as well as rydes to the Pallace,
Neither he beares reuerence to a Prince nor pittie to begger,
But (like a point in midst of a circle) is still of a neernesse,
All to a lesson he draw's, nether hills nor caues can auoide him.
Zelmane.
Worthy shepeheard by my song to my selfe all fauor is happned,
That to the sacred Muse my anoyes somewhat be reuealed,
Sacred Muse, who in one contaynes what nine do in all them.
But ô happy be you, which safe from fyry reflection
Of Phoebus violence in shade of sweet Cyparissus,
Or pleasant mirtell, may teach th'vnfortunate Echo
In these woods to resounde the renowmed name of a goddesse.
Happy be you that may to the saint, your onely Idea,
(Although simply atyrde) your manly affection vtter.
Happy be those mishapps which iustly proportion holding
Giue right sound to the eares, and enter aright to the iudgement,
But wretched be the soules, which vaild in a contrary subiect:
How much more we do loue, so the lesse our loues be beleeued.
What skill salueth a soare of a wrong infirmity iudged?
What can iustice auaile, to a man that tells not his owne case?
You though feares do abash, in you still possible hopes be:
Nature against we do seeme to rebell, seeme fooles in a vaine sute.
But so vnheard, condemn'd, kept thence we do seeke to abide in,
Selfe-lost in wandring, banished that place we doe come from,
What meane is there, alas, we can hope our losse to recouer?
What place is there left, we may hope our woes to recomfort?
Vnto the heau'ns? our wings be too short: earth thinks vs a burden.
Aire we do still with sighes encrease, to the fire? we do want none.
And yet his outward heate our teares would quench, but an inward
Fire no liquor can coole: Neptunes realme would not auaile vs.
Happy shepheard, with thanks to the Gods, still thinke to be thankfull,
That to thy aduauncement their wisdomes haue thee abased.
Dorus.
Vnto the Gods with a thanckfull heart all thankes I do render,
That to my aduauncement their wisdomes haue me abased.
But yet, alas! O but yet alas! our happs be but hard happs,
Which must frame contempt to the fittest purchase of honnour.
Well may a Pastor plaine, but alas his plaints be not esteem'de
Silly shepheards poore pype, when his harsh sound testifi's anguish,
Into the faire looker on, pastime, not passion, enters.
And to the woods or brookes, who do make such dreery recitall
What be the pangs they beare, and whence those pangs be deriued,
Pleasd to receaue that name by rebounding answere of Echo,
May hope therby to ease their inward horrible anguish,
When trees daunce to the pype, and swift streames stay by the musicke,
Or when an Echo begins vnmou'd to sing them a loue song.
Say then what vantage do we get, by the trade of a Pastor?
(Since no estates be so base, but loue vouchsafeth his arrow,
Since no refuge doth serue from woundes we do carry about vs,
Since outward pleasures be but halting helpes to decayd soules)
Saue that dayly we may discerne what fire we do burne in.
Farre more happy be you, whose greatnes gets a free accesse,
Whose faire bodily gifts are fram'd most louely to each ey.
Vertue you haue, of vertue you haue left proofe to the whole world.
And vertue is gratefull with bewty and richnes adorned,
Neither doubt you awhit, time will your passion vtter.
Hardly remains fyer hid, where skill is bent to the hiding,
But in a minde that would his flames should not be repressed,
Nature worketh enough with a small help for the reuealing.
Giue therefore to the Muse great praise in whose very likenes
You doo approch to the fruite your onely desir's be to gather.
Zelmane.
First shall fertill grounds not yeeld increase of a good seed:
First the riuers shall ceasse to repay their fludds to the Occean:
First may a trusty Greyhounde transforme himselfe to a Tigre:
First shall vertue be vice, and bewty be counted a blemishe,
Ere that I leaue with song of praise her praise to solemnize,
Her praise, whence to the world all praise hath his only beginning:
But yet well I doo finde each man most wise in his owne case.
None can speake of a wound with skill, if he haue not a wound felt.
Great to thee my state seemes, thy state is blest by my iudgement:
And yet neither of vs great or blest deemeth his owne selfe.
For yet (weigh this alas!) great is not great to the greater.
What iudge you doth a hillocke shew, by the lofty Olympus?
Such my minute greatnes, doth seeme compar'd to the greatest.
When Cedars to the ground fall downe by the weight of an emmott,
Or when a rich rubies iust price be the worth of a walnut,
Or to the Sun for wonders seeme small sparks of a candle:
Then by my high Cedar, rich Ruby, and only shining Sunne,
Vertue, richesse, beawties of mine shall great be reputed.
Oh no, no, worthy shepeheard, worth can neuer enter a title,
Where proofes iustly do teach, thus matcht, such worth to be nought worth,
Let not a puppet abuse thy sprite, Kings Crownes do not helpe them
From the cruell headache, nor shooes of golde doo the gowt heale,
And preciouse couches full oft are shak't with a feauer.
If then a boddily euill in a boddily gloze be not hidden,
Shall such morning deaws be an ease to the heate of a loues fire?
Dorus.
O glittring miseries of man, if this be the fortune
Of those fortune lulls? so small rest rests in a kingdome?
What maruaile tho a Prince transforme himselfe to a Pastor?
Come from marble bowres many times the gay harbor of anguish,
Vnto a silly caban, though weake, yet stronger against woes.
Now by thy words I begin, most famous Lady, to gather
Comfort into my soule I do finde, I do find what a blessing
Is chaunced to my life, that from such muddy abundance
Of carking agonies (to states which still be adherent)
Desteny keepes me aloofe, for if all this state to thy vertue
Ioyn'd, by thy beauty adorn'd be no meanes these greefes to abolish:
If neither by that helpe, thou canst clime vp to thy fancie,
Nor yet fancy so drest do receiue more plausible hearing:
Then do I thinke in deed, that better it is to be priuate
In sorrows torments, then, tyed to the pompes of a pallace,
Nurse inwarde maladyes, which haue not scope to be breath'd out
•
But perforce disgest, all bitter ioyces of horror
In silence, from a mans owne selfe with company robbed.
Better yet do I liue, that though by my thoughts I be plunged
Into my liues bondage, yet m
•
y disburden a passion
(Opprest with ruinouse conceites) by the helpe of an outcrye:
Not limited to a whispringe note, the Lament of a Courtier.
But sometimes to the woods somtimes to the heau'n do decyphire
With bolde clamor vnheard, vnmarckt, what I seeke what I suffer:
And when I mee
•
e these trees, in the earths faire liuory clothed,
Ease I do feele (such ease as falls to one wholy diseased)
For that I finde in them parte of my state represented.
Lawrell shew's what I seeke, by the Mirre is show'd how I seeke it,
Oliue paintes me the peace that I must aspire to by the conquest:
Mirtle makes my request, my request is crown'd with a willowe?
Cyprus promiseth helpe, but a helpe where comes no recomforte
Sweete Iuniper, saith this, thoh I burne, yet I burne in a sweete fire.
Evve doth make me thinke what kind of bow the boy holdeth
Which shootes strongly with out any noyse and deadly without smarte
•
Firr trees great and greene, sixt on a hye hill but a barrein,
Lyke to my noble thoughtes, still new, well plac'd, to me fruteles.
Figge that yeeldes most pleasante fru'te, his shaddow is hurtefull
Thus be her giftes most sweet, thus more danger to be neere her,
Now in a palme when I marke, how he doth rise vnder a burden,
And may I not (say I then) gett vp though griefs be so weightie?
Pine is a maste to a shippe, to my shippe shall hope for a maste serue,
Pine is hye, hope is as hie, sharpe leau'd, sharpe yet be my hopes budds
•
Elme embraste by a vine, embracing fancy reuiueth
Popler changeth his hew from a rising sunne to a setting:
Thus to my sonne do I yeeld, such lookes her beames do aforde me
Olde aged oke cutt downe, of newe works serues to the building:
So my desires by my feare, cutt downe, be the frames of her honour.
Ashe makes speares which shieldes do resist, her force no repulse takes:
Palmes do reioyce to be ioynd by the match of a male to a female,
And shall sensiue things be so sencelesse as to resist sence?
Thus be my thoughts disperst, thus thinking nurseth a thinking,
Thus both trees and each thing ells, be the bookes of a fancy.
But to the Cedar Queene of woods when I lifte my beteard eyes,
Then do I shape to my selfe that forme which raign's so with
•
in me,
And thinke ther she do dwell & heare what plants I do vtter:
When that noble toppe doth nodd, I beleeue she salutes me;
When by the winde it maketh a noyse, I do thinke she doth answer:
Then kneling to the ground, oft thus do I speake to that Image:
Onely Iuell, O only Iuell, which only deseruest
That mens harts be thy seate and endlesse fame be thy seruant,
O descende for a while, from this greate height to behold me,
But nought els do, behold (else is nought worth the beholding)
Saue what a worke, by thy selfe is wrought: & since I am altred
Thus by thy worke, disdaine not that which is by thy selfe done.
In meane caues oft treasure abides, to an hostry a king comes.
And so behinde foule clowdes full oft faire starres do ly hidden.
Zelmane.
Hardy shephearde, such as thy meritts, such may be her insight
Iustely to graunt thee rewarde, such e
•
uie I beare to thy fortune.
But to my selfe what wish can I make for a salue to my sorrowes,
Whom both nature seemes to debarr from meanes to be helped,
And if a meane were found, fortune th'whole course of it hinders.
This plag'de how can I frame to my soare any hope of amendemente?
Whence may I show to my minde any light of possible escape?
Bownd & bownd by so noble bandes, as loth to be vnbownd,
Iaylor I am to my selfe, prison & prisoner to myne owne selfe.
Yet be my hopes thus plast, here fix'd liues all my recomforte,
That that deare Dyamond, where wisdome holdeth a sure seate,
Whose force had such force so to transforme, nay to reforme me,
Will at length perceaue these flames by her beames to be kindled,
And will pitty the wound festred so strangely within me.
O be it so, graunte such an euent, O Gods, that euent giue.
And for a sure sacrifice I do dayly oblation offer
Of mine owne harte, where thoughts be the temple, sighte is a aultar.
But ceasse worthy shepheard, nowe ceasse we to weery the hearers
With monefull melodies, for enough our greefes be reuealed,
If by the parties ment our meanings rightly be marked,
And sorrow's do require some respitt vnto the sences.
What exclaming praises Basilius gaue to this Ecloge any man may ghesse, that knowes loue is better then a paire of spectacles to make euery thing seeme greater which is sene through it: and then is neuer tongue tied where fitt commendation (whereof womankinde is so likerouse) is offered vnto it. But before any other came in to supplie the place, Zelmane hauing heard some of the shepheards by chaunce name Strephon and Klaius, supposing thereby they had bene present, was desirous both to heare them for the fame of their frindly loue, and to know them, for their kindenesse towardes her best loued frinde. Much grieued was Basilius, that any desire of his mistresse should bee vnsatisfied, and therefore to represent them vnto hir (aswell as in their absence it might be) he commaunded on Lamon, who had at large sett down their country pastimes and first loue to Vrania to sing the whole discourse which he did in this manner.
A Shepheards tale no height of stile desires
To raise in words what in effect is lowe:
A plaining songe plaine-singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from inward chearing flow.
I then, whose burd'ned brest but thus aspires
Of shepheards two the seely case to show,
Nede not the stately Muses helpe inuoke
For creeping rimes, which often sighings choke.
But you, ô you, that thinke not teares to deare
To spend for harms, although they touch you not:
And deigne to deeme your neighbors mischefe neare,
Although they be of meaner parents gott:
You I inuite with easie eares to heare
The poore-clad truth of loues wrong-ordred lot.
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such:
Who share in woe, weygh others haue as much.
Ther was (ô seldome blessed word of was!)
A paire of frends, or rather one cal'd two,
Train'd in the life which on short-bitten grasse
In shine or storme must sett the doubted shoe:
He, that the other in some yeares did passe,
And in those gifts that years distribute doe,
Was Klaius cald, (ah Klaius, wofull wight!)
The later borne, yet too soone, Strephon hight.
Epeirus high, was honest Klaius nest,
To Strephon AEoles land first breathing lent:
But East & West were ioin'd by frendships hest.
As Strephons eare & heart to Klaius bent:
So Klaius soule did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking togither went,
As if they would of owners humour be,
And eke their pipes did well, as frends agree.
Klaius for skill of hearb's & shepheards art
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise, as of vnstained harte:
Strephon was yonge, yet markt with humble eies
How elder rul'd their flocks, & cur'd their smart,
So that the graue did not his words despise.
Both free of minde, both did clear-dealing loue,
And both had skill in verse their voice to moue.
Their chearfull minds, till pois'ned was their cheare,
The honest sports of earthy lodging proue;
Now for a clod-like hare in fourm they peere,
Now bolt & cudgill squirrels leape do moue.
Now the ambitiouse Larke with mirror cleare
They catch, while he (foole!) to himself makes loue:
And now at keels they trie a harmles chaunce,
And now their curr they teach to fetch & daunce.
When mery May first early calls the morne,
With mery maids a mayeng they do go,
Then do they pull from sharpe & niggard thorne
The plenteous sweets, (can sweets so sharply grow?)
Then some grene gowns are by the lasses worne
In chastest plaies, till home they walke a rowe,
While daunce about the may-pole is begun,
When, if nede were, they could at quintain run:
While thus they ran a low, but leaueld race,
While thus they liu'd, (this was indede a life)
With nature pleas'd, content with present case.
Free of proud feares, braue begg'ry, smiling strife
Of clime-fall Court, the enuy-hatching place:
While those restles desires in great men rife
To visite so low folkes did much disdaine,
This while, though poore, they in themselues did raigne.
One day (ô day, that shin'de to make them darke!)
While they did ward sun-beames with shady bay,
And Klaius taking for his yongling carke,
(Lest greedy eies to them might challenge lay)
Busy with oker did their shoulders marke,
(His marke a Piller was deuoid of stay,
As bragging that free of all passions mone
Well might he others beare, but leane to none)
Strephon with leauy twiggs of Laurell tree
A garland made on temples for to weare,
For he then chosen was the dignitie
Of village-Lord that whitsontide to beare:
And full, poore foole of boyish brauery
With triumphs shews would shew he nought did feare.
But fore-accounting oft makes builders misse,
They found, they felt, they had no lease of blisse.
For ere that either had his purpose done,
Behold (beholding well it doth deserue)
They saw a maid who thitherward did runne,
To catch hir sparrow which from hir did swerue,
As she a black-silke cap on him begunne
To sett, for foile of his milke-white to serue.
She chirping ran, he peeping flew away,
Till hard by them both he & she did stay.
Well for to see they kept themselues vnsene,
And saw this fairest maid of fairer minde,
By, fortune meare, in Nature borne a Queene,
How well apaid she was hir birde to finde:
How tenderly hir tender hands betweene
In iuory cage she did the micher binde:
How rosy moist'ned lipps about his beake
Mouing, she seem'd at once to kisse, & speake.
Chastned but thus, & thus his lesson tought
The happy wretch she putt into hir breast,
Which to their eies the bowles of Venus brought,
For they seem'd made euen of skie-mettall best,
And that the bias of hir bloud was wrought.
Betwixt them two the peeper tooke his nest,
Where snugging well he well appear'd content
So to haue done amisse, so to be shent.
This done, but done with captiue-killing grace,
Each motion seeming shott from beauties bow,
With length laid downe she deckt the lonely place.
Proud grew the grasse that vnder hir did growe,
The trees spred out their armes to shade hir face,
But she on elbow lean'd with sigh's did show
No grasse, no trees, nor yet hir sparrow might
To long-perplexed minde breed long delight.
She troubled was (alas that it mought be!)
With tedious brawlings of her parents deare,
Who would haue hir in will & worde agree
To wedd Antaxius their neighbour neare.
A heardman rich of much account was he
In whome no euill did raigne, nor good appeare.
In some such one she lik'd not his desire,
Faine would be free, but dreadeth parents ire.
Kindly, sweete soule, she did vnkindnes take
That bagged baggage of a misers mudd,
Should price of hir, as in a market, make.
But golde can guild a rotten piece of wood,
To yeeld she found hir noble heart did ake:
To striue she fear'd how it with vertue stoode.
This doubting clouds ore-casting heau'nly braine,
At length in rowes of Kisse-cheeke teares they raine.
Cupid the wagg, that lately conquer'd had
Wise Counsellors, stout Captaines puissant Kings,
And ti'de them fast to leade his triumph badd,
Glutted with them now plaies with meanest things.
So oft in feasts with costly chaunges cladd
To crammed mawes a spratt new Stomake brings.
So Lords with sport of Stagg & Hearon full
Sometimes we vse small birds from nests do pull.
So now for pray these shepheards two he tooke
Whose mettall stiff he knew he could not bende
With hear-say, pictures, or a window looke,
With one good dawnce, or letter finely pend,
That were in Court a well proportion'd hooke,
Where piercing witts do quickly apprehend,
Their sences rude plaine obiects only moue,
And so must see great cause before they loue.
Therfore Loue arm'd in hir now takes the fielde,
Making hir beames his brauery & might:
Hir hands which pierc'd the soules seau'n-double shield,
Were now his darts leauing his wonted fight.
Braue crest to him hir scorn-gold haire did yeeld,
His compleat harneis was hir purest white.
But fearing lest all white might seeme too good,
In cheeks & lipps the Tyran threatens bloud.
Besides this force within hir eies he kept
A fire, to burne the prisoners he gaines,
Whose boiling heat encreased as she wept:
For eu'n in forge colde water fire maintaines.
Thus proud & fierce vnto the hearts he stept
Of them poore soules: & cutting Reasons raines,
Made them his owne before they had it wist.
But if they had, could shephookes this resist?
Klaius streight felt, & groned at the blowe,
And cal'd, now wounded, purpose to his aide:
Strephon, fond boy, delighted did not knowe,
That it was Loue that shin'de in shining maid:
But lickrous, Poison'd, faine to her would goe,
If him new-learned manners had not stai'd.
For then Vrania homeward did arise,
Leauing in paine their wel-fed hungry eies.
She went, they staid; or rightly for to say,
She staid in them, they went in thought with hyr:
Klaius in deede would faine haue puld a way
This mote from out his eye, this inward burre,
And now, proud Rebell gan for to gainsay
The lesson which but late he learn'd too furre:
Meaning with absence to refresh the thought
To which hir presence such a feauer brought.
Strephon did leape with ioy & iolitie,
Thinking it iust more therein to delight
Then in good Dog, faire field, or shading tree.
So haue I sene trim bookes in veluet dight
With golden leaues, & painted babery
Of seely boies please vnacquainted sight:
But when the rod began to play his part,
Faine would, but could not fly from golden smart.
He quickly learn'd Vrania was her name,
And streight for failing, grau'd it in his heart:
He knew hir haunt, & haunted in the same,
And taught his shepe hir shepe in food to thwart.
Which soone as it did batefull question frame,
He might on knees confesse his faulty part,
And yeeld himselfe vnto hir punishment,
While nought but game, the selfe-hurt wanton ment.
Nay eu'n vnto hir home he oft would go,
Where bold and hurtles many play he tries,
Her parents liking well it should be so,
For simple goodnes shined in his eyes.
There did he make hir laugh in spite of woe,
So as good thoughts of him in all arise,
While into none doubt of his loue did sinke,
For not himselfe to be in loue did thinke.
But glad Desire, his late embosom'd guest,
Yet but a babe, with milke of Sight he nurst:
Desire the more he suckt, more sought the brest,
Like dropsy folke still drinke to be a thyrst.
Till one faire eau'n an howr ere Sun did rest,
Who then in Lions caue did enter fyrst,
By neighbors prai'd she went abroad therby.
At Barly brake hir swete swift foot to trie.
Neuer the earth on his round shoulders bare
A maid train'd vp from high or low degree,
That in her doings better could compare
Mirth with respect, few words with curtesy,
A careles comelines with comely care,
Self-gard with mildnes, Sport with Maiesty:
Which made hir yeeld to deck this shepheards band,
And still, beleue me, Strephon was at hand.
A field they goe, where many lookers be,
And thou seke-sorow Klaius them among:
In dede thou said'st it was thy frend to see
Strephon, whose absence seem'd vnto thee long,
While most with hir he lesse did kepe with thee.
No, no, it was in spite of wisdomes song
Which absence wisht: loue plai'd a victors part:
The heau'n-loue lodestone drew thy iron hart.
Then couples three be streight allotted there,
They of both ends the middle two doe flie,
The two that in mid place, Hell called were,
Must striue with waiting foot, and watching eye
To catch of them, and them to hell to beare,
That they, aswell as they, Hell may supplie:
Like some which seeke to salue their blotted name
With others blott, till all do tast of shame.
There may you see, soone as the middle two
Do coupled towards either couple make,
They false and fearfull do their hands vndoe,
Brother his brother, frend doth frend forsake,
Heeding himselfe, cares not how fellow doe,
But of a straunger mutuall help doth take:
As periur'd cowards in aduersity
With sight of feare from frends to fremb'd do flie.
These sports shepheards deuiz'd such faults to show.
Geron, though olde yet gamesome, kept one ende
With Cosma, for whose loue Pas past in woe.
Faire Nous with Pas the lott to hell did sende:
Pas thought it hell, while he was Cosma fro.
At other end Vran did Strephon lend
Her happy-making hand, of whome one looke
From Nous and Cosma all their beauty tooke.
The play began: Pas durst not Cosma chace,
But did entend next bout with her to meete,
So he with Nous to Geron turn'd their race,
With whome to ioyne fast ran Vrania sweet:
But light-legd Pas had gott the middle space.
Geron straue hard, but aged were his feet,
And therfore finding force now faint to be,
He thought gray haires afforded subtletie.
And so when Pas hand-reached him to take,
The fox on knees and elbowes tombled downe:
Pas could not stay, but ouer him did rake,
And crown'd the earth with his first touching crowne:
His heels grow'n proud did seme at heau'n to shake.
But Nous that slipt from Pas, did catch the clowne.
So laughing all, yet Pas to ease some dell
Geron with Vran were condemn'd to hell.
Cosma this while to Strephon safely came,
And all to second barly-brake are bent:
The two in hell did toward Cosma frame,
Who should to Pas, but they would her preuent.
Pas mad with fall, and madder with the shame,
Most mad with beames which he thought Cosma sent,
With such mad haste he did to Cosma goe,
That to hir breast he gaue a noysome blowe.
She quick, and proud, and who did Pas despise,
Vp with hir fist, and tooke him on the face,
Another time; quoth she, become more wise.
Thus Pas did kisse hir hand with little grace,
And each way luckles, yet in humble guise
Did hold hir fast for feare of more disgrace,
While Strephon might with preatie Nous haue met,
But all this while another course he fet.
For as Vrania after Cosma ran,
He rauished with sight how gracefully
She mou'd hir lims, and drew the aged man,
Left Nous to coast the loued beauty ny.
Nous cri'de, and chaf'd, but he no other can.
Till Vran seing Pas to Cosma fly,
And Strephon single, turned after him.
Strephon so chas'd did seme in milke to swimme.
He ran, but ran with eye ore shoulder cast,
More marking hir, then how himselfe did goe,
Like Numid Lions by the hunters chas'd,
Though they do fly, yet backwardly do glowe
With proud aspect, disdaining greater hast.
What rage in them, that loue in him did show.
But God giues them instinct the man to shun,
And he by law of Barly-brake must run.
But as his heate with running did augment,
Much more his sight encreast his hote desire:
So is in her the best of Nature spent,
The aire hir swete race mou'd doth blow the fire.
Hir feet be Purseuants from Cupid sent,
With whose fine stepps all loues and ioyes conspire.
The hidden beauties seem'd in waite to lye,
To downe proud hearts that would not willing dye.
Thus, fast he fled from her he follow'd sore,
Still shunning Nous to lengthen pleasing race,
Till that he spied old Geron could no more,
Then did he slack his loue-enstructed pace.
So that Vrán, whose arme old Geron bore,
Laid hold on him with most lay-holding grace.
So caught, him seem'd he caught of ioyes the bel
•
,
And thought it heau'n so to be drawn to hell.
To hell he goes, and Nous with him must dwell.
Nous sware it was no right; for his default
Who would be caught, that she should go to hell:
But so she must. And now the third assault
Of Barly-brake among the six befell.
Pas Cosma matcht, yet angry with his fault,
The other end Geron with Vrán garde.
I thinke you thinke Strephon bent thitherward.
Nous counseld Strephon Geron to pursue,
For he was olde, and easly would be cought:
But he drew hir as loue his fancy drew,
And so to take the gemme Vrania sought.
While Geron olde came safe to Cosma true,
Though him to meete at all she sturred nought.
For Pas, whither it were for feare, or loue,
Mou'd not himselfe, nor suffred hir to moue.
So they three did togither idly stay,
While deare Vrán, whose course was Pas to meet,
(He staying thus) was faine abroad to stray
With larger round, to shun the folowing feet.
Strephon, whose eies on hir back-parts did play,
With loue drawne on, so fast with pace vnmeet
Drew dainty Nous, that she not able so
To runne, brake from his hands, and let him goe.
He single thus, hop'd soone with hir to be,
Who nothing earthly, but of fire and aire,
Though with soft leggs, did run as fast as he.
He thrise reacht, thrise deceiu'd, when hir to beare
He hopes, with dainty turns she doth him flee.
So on the down's we see, neere Wilton faire,
A hast'ned Hare from greedy Grayhound goe,
And past all hope his chapps to frustrate so.
But this straunge race more straunge conceits did yeeld:
Who victor seem'd, was to his ruine brought:
Who seem'd orethrown was mistresse of the field:
She fled, and tooke: he folow'd, and was cought.
So haue I heard to pierce pursuing shield
By Parents train'd the Tartars wilde are tought,
With shafts shott out from their back-turned bow.
But, ah! hir darts did farre more depely goe.
As Venus bird the white, swift, louely Doue
(O happy Doue that art compar'd to hir!)
Doth on hir wings hir vtmost swiftnes proue,
Finding the gripe of Falcon fierce not furr:
So did Vran, the narr the swifter moue,
(Yet beauty still as fast as she did sturre)
Till with long race deare she was breathles brought,
And then the Phoenix feared to be cought.
Among the rest that there did take delight
To see the sportes of double-shining day,
And did the tribute of their wondring sight
To Natures heir, the faire Vrania, pay,
I tolde you Klaius was the haples wight
Who earnest found what they accounted play.
He did not there doe homage of his eies,
But on his eies his heart did sacrifise.
With gazing looks, short sighs, vnsettled feet,
He stood, but turn'd, as Girosol, to Sun:
His fancies still did hir in half-way meet,
His soule did fly as she was seen to run.
In sum proud Boreas neuer ruled fleet
(Who Neptunes webb on daungers distaff spun)
With greater powr, then she did make them wend
Each way, as she, that ages praise, did bend.
Till spieng well she welnigh weary was,
And surely taught by his loue-open eye,
His eye, that eu'n did marke hir troden grasse,
That she would faine the catch of Strephon flie,
Giuing his reason pasport for to passe
Whither it would, so it would let him dy,
He that before shund hir to shun such harmes,
Now runnes, and takes hir in his clipping armes.
For with pretence from Strephon hir to garde,
He met hir full, but full of warefulnes,
With inbow'd bosome well for hir prepar'd,
When Strephon cursing his owne backwardnes
Came to hir back, and so with double warde
Emprison hir, who both them did possesse
As heart-bound slaues: and happy then embrace
Vertues proofe, fortunes victor, beauties place.
Hir race did not hir beauties beames augment,
For they were euer in the best degree,
But yet a setting foorth it some way lent:
As rubies lustre, when they rubbed be.
The dainty dew on face and body went
As on sweet flowrs when mornings drops we see.
Her breath then short seem'd loth from home to pas,
Which more it mou'd, the more it sweeter was.
Happy, ô happy! if they so might bide,
To see hir eies, with how true humblenes
They looked down to triumph ouer pride:
With how sweet sawes she blam'd their sawcines:
To feele the panting heart, which through hir syde
Did beate their hands, which durst so neere to presse.
To see, to feele, to heare, to tast, to know
More then, besides hir, all the earth could show.
But neuer did Medeas golden weed
On Creons child his poison sooner throw,
Then those delights through all their sinews breed
A creeping serpentlike of mortall woe.
Till she brake from their armes (although in deed
Going from them, from them she could not go)
And fare-welling the flocke did homeward wend,
And so that euen the barly-brake did end.
It ended, but the others woe began,
Began at least to be conceiu'd as woe,
For then wise Klaius found no absence can
Help him, who can no more hir sight foregoe.
He found mans vertue is but part of man,
And part must folowe where whole man doth goe.
He found that Reasons self now reasons found
To fasten knotts, which fancy first had bound.
So doth he yeeld, so takes he on his yoke,
Not knowing who did draw with him therin;
Strephon, poore youth, because he saw no smoke
Did not conceiue what fire he had within.
But after this to greater rage it broke;
Till of his life it did full conquest win,
First killing mirth, then banishing all rest,
Filling his eies with teares, with sighs his brest.
Then sports grew paines, all talking tediouse,
On thoughts he feeds, his lookes their figure chaunge,
The day seemes long, but night is odious,
No sleeps, but dream's, no dream's, but visions straunge,
Till finding still his euill encreasing thus,
One day he with his flock abroad did raunge:
And comming where he hop'd to be alone,
Thus on a hillock set, he made his mone.
Alas! what weights are these that lode my heart!
I am as dull as winter-sterued sheep,
Tir'de as a iade in ouerloden carte,
Yet thoughts do flie, though I can scarcely creep.
All visions seeme, at euery bush I start:
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely slepe.
Sure I bewitched am, it is euen that:
Late neere a crosse I met an ougly Cat.
For, but by charms, how fall these things on me,
That from those eies where heau'nly apples bene,
Those eies, which nothing like themselues can see,
Of faire Vrania, fairer then a greene,
Proudly bedeckt in Aprills liuory,
A shot vnheard gaue me a wound vnseene?
He was inuisible that hurt me so,
And none vnuisible, but Spirites, can goe.
When I see her, my sinewes shake for feare,
And yet, deare soule, I know she hurteth none:
Amid my flock with woe my voice I teare,
And, but bewitch'd, who to his flock would mone?
Her chery lipps, milke hands, and golden haire
I still do see, though I be still alone.
Now make me thinke that there is not a fende,
Who hid in Angels shape my lîfe would ende.
The sportes wherin I wonted to do well,
Come she, and sweet the aire with open brest,
Then so I faile, when most I would do well,
That at me so amaz'd my fellowes iest:
Sometimes to her newes of my selfe to tell
I go about, but then is all my best
Wry words, and stam'ring, or els doltish dombe,
Say then, can this but of enchantment come?
Nay each thing is bewitcht to know my case:
The Nightingales for woe their songs refraine:
In riuer as I look'd my pining face,
As pin'd a face as mine I saw againe.
The courteous mountaines grieu'd at my disgrace
Their snowy haire teare of in melting paine.
And now the dropping trees do wepe for me,
And now faire euenings blush my shame to see.
But you my pipe, whilome my chief delight,
Till straunge delight, delight to nothing ware;
And you my flock, care of my carefull sight,
While I was I, & so had cause to care;
And thou my dogg, whose truth & valiant might
Made wolues (not inward wolues) my ewes to spare;
Go you not from your master in his woe:
Let it suffise that he himselfe forgoe.
For though like waxe, this magique makes me waste,
Or like a lambe whose dam away is fet,
(Stolne from her yoong by theeues vnchoosing hast)
He treble beas for helpe, but none can get:
Though thus, and worse, though now I am at last,
Of all the games that here ere now I met:
Do you remember still you once were mine,
Till my eies had their curse from blessed
•
ine.
Be you with me while I vnheard do cry,
While I do score my losses on the winde,
While I in heart my will write ere I die.
In which by will, my will and wits I binde:
Still to be hers, about her aye to flie,
As this same sprite about my fancies blinde,
Doth daily ha
•
nt: but so, that mine become
As much more louing, as lesse combersome.
Alas! a cloud hath ouercast mine eies:
And yet I see her shine amid the cloud.
Alas! of ghostes I heare the gastly cries:
Yet there, me seemes, I heare her singing loud.
This song she singes in most commaunding wise:
Come shepheards boy, let now thy heart be bowd
To make it selfe to my least looke a slaue:
Leaue sheepe, leaue all, I will no piecing haue.
I will, I will, alas! alas! I will:
Wilt thou haue more? more haue, if more I be.
Away ragg'd rams, care I what murraine kill?
Out shreaking pipe made of
•
ome witched tree.
Go bawling curre, thy hungry maw go fill,
On yond foule flocke belonging not to me.
With that his dogge he henst his flocke he curst:
With that (yet kissed first) his pipe he burst.
This said, this done, he rase euen tir'd with rest,
With heart as carefull, as with carelesse grace,
With shrinking legges, but with a swelling brest,
With eyes which threatned they would drowne his face,
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best,
And giuing to his sight a wandring race,
He saw behind a bush where Klaius sate:
His well know'ne friend, but yet his vnknowne mate,
Klaius the wretch, who lately yelden was
To beare the bondes which Time nor wit could breake,
(With blushing soule at sight of iudgements glasse,
While guilty thoughts accus'd his Reason weake)
This morne alone to lonely walke did passe,
With in himselfe of hir deare self
•
to speake,
Till Strephons planing voice him nearer drew,
Where by his words his self-like cause he knew.
For hearing him so oft with wordes of woe
Vrania name, whose force he knew so well,
He quickly knew what witchcraft gaue the blow
Which made his Strephon think himselfe in hell.
Which when he did in perfect image show,
To his owne witt, thought vpon thought did swell,
Breeding huge stormes with in his inward parte,
Which thus breath'd out with earthquake of his hart.
As Lamon would haue proceded, Basilius knowing, by the wasting of the torches that the night also was farre wasted, and withall remembring Zelmanes hurt, asked hir whither she thought it not better to reserue the complaint of Klaius till an other day. Which she, perceiuing the song had alreadie worne out much time, and not knowing when Lamon would ende, being euen now stepping ouer to a new matter, though much delig
•
ted with what was spoken, willingly agreed vnto. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselues to the elder brother of death.
The end of the first Booke.
THE SECOND BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
IN these pastorall pastimes a great number of daies were sent to follow their flying predecessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous work, til once, that the night (parting away angry, that she could distill no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no sooner giuen place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vpon the tops of the mountaines, but that the woefull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going vp and downe with such vnquiet motions, as a grieued and hopeles minde is wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudgement the euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them: shee felt the terrors of her owne conscience: shee was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortal woūd to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her countenaunce ghastly about her (as if shee had called all the powers of the world to be witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heauē, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continually keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so long imbraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fita guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? What hideous thinge is this which doeth Eclips thee? Or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence?
O imperfect proportiō of reason, which can too much foresee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, and my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolution to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the windes deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that onely I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue mee without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answer my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretaken cōceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where canst thou find any small ground plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is sett vpō: it is my daughter I haue borne to supplant me. But if it bee so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngratefull
Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there is no comfort, but to bee beyond all bounds of shame.
Hauing spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far frō her) an extremely dolefull voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) shee drewe thether heere-away, in hope to find some companiō of her misery. And as she paced on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraide shee should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which shee was so desirous to vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softlie as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellentlie well played vppon, and then the same dolefull voyce accompanyinge it with these verses.
IN vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende
With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight:
Since to my hart her shape you so did sende;
That her I see, though you did lose your light.
In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire.
Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte:
Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte,
That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte.
Then since in vaine I find were all my strife,
To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.
The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthē of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in all sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu'd to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to a ioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The evill is inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost, doth serue but to make me thinke more freely off. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since hee is not afraide to forsake himselfe.
And thus much spoke (in steede of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowful musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained cōfused with a sodaine astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had risen vp that morning early of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stood still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe, she began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood-gate of sorrow (whereof her heart could not abide the violēt issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hāds ouer her face crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her: & beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, & offering her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, & the torments of her owne conscience; O Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my only poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredy brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke shee shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellēt Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better
•
ay passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfortunate guest) camest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I bene, & no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; & make thee iudge of my cause, who art the only author of my mischiefe Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her; Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynecia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.
Zelmane was much troubled with that worde, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as she was thinking what to answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: complayning likewise of loue very
freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and voyce.
LEt not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood in flam'de, doth yeeld the brauest fire,
When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend.
Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow,
Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe:
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show,
Which makes all eyes doo homage vnto you.
Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth:
Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
And to old age since you your selfe aspire,
Let not old age disgrace my high desire.
Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, somtimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had saide, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten some leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gynecya, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to bee vsed. If my seruice may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of mee. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know full little, howe percing the eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able to discerne a greater cloude then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe further from mee, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that waye thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most louely countenance hee could, hee came straightway towardes them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her shee woulde now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kinges commaundement; full of raging agonies and determinately bent, that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she woulde stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then faile of her intent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly
•
an ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sickenesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.
But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues presence, falling downe on his
knees, O Lady (saide hee) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layne deade in mee; see in mee the power of your beautie, which can make olde age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince vnconquered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And when you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shall neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuerence to receiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himselfe that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, and making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.
But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-loued company, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one, but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most secret. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Well, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I haue receiued by you.
But as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieue them, and yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius,
then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus, apparelled in flanen, with a Goats skin cast vpon him, and a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, and how with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of companie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas holding his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, and swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: and that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vnfeatie fellowes, then great clearks were.
But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her hart would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill doth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are past ouer vs since our last talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it off) earnestly intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little world, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hot rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a few Palme trees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus
thus entred to the description of his fortune. Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throw vs to such an estate, as the onely entercourse of our true friendship, must be a bartring of miseries. For my part, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a light-somnes, but) to a certaine dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde himselfe vtterly ignorant. But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the seruice I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whome indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songs. For my part, my hart would not suffer me to omit any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I found, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) drawe foorth such a sword of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to behold that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shew himselfe wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way.
Which suspition Miso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeakeable beautie) were very glad to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no fuller of desire, then voyd of counsell how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speake, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that it could beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how? with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom wit (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, euen as foundlings to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not at their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogi
•
ations haue I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my hart to remember, that nothing is atchieued before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth neuer goe forward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble all my conceites, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will thinke was a way rather to hide it. I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed within me, (although to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrations of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I sawe my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I could gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that
Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnes) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my ouerthrowe; she the sweetnesse of my hart, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpō me. In summe, what soeuer I thought of Pamela, that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse the better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therfore
being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Whereupon one day determining to finde some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and soong this song.
SInce so mine eyes are subiect to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed haue my braine;
Since so my harte is filled with that light,
That onely light doth all my life maintaine;
Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne,
That where you are no wished good can want;
Since so your liuing image liues in me,
That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
How can you him vnworthy then decree,
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?
The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sang, I let fall my harpe from me; and casting my eye sometime vpon Mopsa, but setling my sight principally vpon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtifull Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune must be the measure of his mind? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa,
consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subiect, and the heauenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet vniting of all beauties, which remaineth and dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that all these are but ornaments of that diuine sparke within you, which being descended from heauen, could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towards me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most commonly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the words I could get of her, was, wrieng her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her part) was content to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her
words, in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much confideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that hart, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne whereby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, & to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, vsing this fit occasion of Pamelaes wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therefore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene condemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputation I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in whom so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it selfe to the best part of my life, as the one can not depart, but that th'other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tumbled with ouermuch kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance then before (finding how apt I was to fall into despaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfections had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be
so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be counted wisdome, in vs will be taken for a light-grounded affection: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great contentment in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronounced words; and newly, and more violently againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speech, with no lesse well graced silence. But remembring in my selfe that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: and seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face well witnessing how deeply my soule was possessed, and with the most submissiue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, euen as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at length spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) and do not then your owne sweet words sufficiently testifie, that there was neuer man could haue a iuster action against filthy fortune, then I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauenly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches haue not already cloied you, and that the verie presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes: let me reply thus much further against my mortall "sentence, by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vpon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.
In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia
(I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, whome bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sound? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last duties, leauing his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the foresight-full care he had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destenies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heedfull loue of his dolefull mother, and the f
•
orishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.
But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to knowe misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heauenly and earthly things, to frame fit occasions to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all
matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, experience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And hereto did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can bee a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit al this together, was his vncle the king of Macedon; who hauing lately before gotten such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp together, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; & thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, til Pamela shewing by countenāce that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; wher at that time his court was. But whē the cōspired heauens had gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpō so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous winds some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of al his Nauie, he only with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vnconsiderate rages, why either began you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull tormēts. To tell you what pittiful mishaps fel to the young Prince of Macedon his cosē I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpō those laborsome aduentures, nor loathsome misaduentures to which, and through which his fortune & courage cōducted him; My speach hastneth it selfe to come to the fulpoint of Musidorus infortunes. For as wee find the most pestilent diseases do gather into themselues all the infirmities with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it selfe all his former mischiefes.
Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouer-throw. Arcadia was, (alas wel might I say it is) the charmed circle, wher all his spirits for euer should be enchaūted. For here (& no where els) did his infected eyes make his mind know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it down to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they cā be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such vvas as then the state of the King, as it vvas no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such vvas the state of his captiued vvill, as he could delay no time of seeking her.
In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards vveede, that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes vvith that, vvhich should at length eate vp his hart. In vvhich doing, thus much vvithout doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alvvayes to be reiected, since vnder that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might vvith
taking on a shepherds looke cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine neede no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to helpe, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therefore most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue saide enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befal to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are too monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne workemanship.
Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge that hee ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? shee hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant Prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much deceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historie) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ô blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can neuer hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being here, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue either heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, when he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therefore that Plangus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where hee was taken vp by a couple of shepheardes, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet remained constant frinds; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Mantinea, whose sonne had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by an other name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.
And therefore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was thus to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking vp againe that hee that was so preserued, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie: which two since Plangus
knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, hee must needes bee one of them, although (as I saide) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the
Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he conld neuer defend with lesse then a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (saide he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that shee may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thssalia, secretly to bee aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with their Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled countenance, not accusing any kind of inward motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withall, to shew what kinde of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.
MY sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue:
Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I waile their lotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
What wooll my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue,
In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.
And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her noble hart of that steely resistance against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornament; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that shee woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.
Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and action, as might shewe shee spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide shee) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully proue himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother
•
and heire I knowe no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) shee were euen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, shee woulde keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the way of matrimony, shee woulde steppe neuer a foote further, till my Maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no shee woulde not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, shee threwe such a prospect vpon mee, as might well haue giuen a surfet to any
weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because shee was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a full knowledge, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.
Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a Iewell made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable vnto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (said I) as the earth was turned vp, the plowe-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, and so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.
Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Princesse I could finde no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, (who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs) which kinde of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestie, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned mee, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heauen; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if shee hated me, yet I shoulde know what passion to deale with; and either with infinitenes of desert I woulde take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I vvould giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike nor proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one manner; all her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties (euer keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spurre or stoppe his horses). This (I say) heauenlynes of hers
•
(for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie of despaire, not knowing any way of perswasion, where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on certaine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas
house, and Dametas got one by friendship out of the Princes stable. But how soeuer I showe, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.
But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, and counting vpō his fingers, how many loade of hay his seuenteen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (saide Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may well finde you haue beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may well make your sorrow stronger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas, I shall grow (saide shee) skilfull in country matters, if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue well enough, if hee ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will
beare away that hee heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find shee might haue spent her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne ouer all the art of husbandrie: especially imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane
yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gynecia, who attended for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius, and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch whereof though it were barred by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though but in an iuorie boxe will thorow the boxe sende foorth his imbracing vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Philoclea.
But Dametas, euen then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to bee doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, draue the coach (the couer whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered and open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lordes, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, woulde beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Falcons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp on his wagling winges vvith paine, till he vvas come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth vvere not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) vvas now growen to diminish the sight of himselfe, and to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should shovv: vvhen a Ierfaulcon vvas cast of after her, vvho streight spying vvhere the pray vvas, fixing her eie vvith desire, and guiding her vving by her eie, vsed no more strength then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower vvill not make his stayre vpright, but vvinding almost the full compasse about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so shee, seeing the tovvring of her pursued chase, vvent circkling, and compassing about, rising so vvith the lesse sence of rising; and yet finding that vvay scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious bodie vvill go far out of the direct vvay, to vvin to a point of height vvhich he desires; so would shee (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, and flie quite out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitch; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since
•
light would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouer-partiall beholders.
Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a wine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane and Gynecia sat, yet for Zel
•
anes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that shee feared shee might receaue some hurt. But indeede neither shee did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinct; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a feuer with him draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.
But neither was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie shee conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time of her sicknesse might giue apt occasion to Zelmane, whom shee misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commaūded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speak, and shee lie with her sister Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torch-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions beare a mind which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne til now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.
The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of wel doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cunningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet and simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to bee altered, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaued nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; whose tender youth had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing out of her owne will the fore-chosing of any thing) when now shee came to appoint, wherein her iudgement was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first tokens, she was like a yong faune, who comming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to bee eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while liued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heedfull attention; her comming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conuersation; her wit & behauiour, a liking and silent admiration; at length the excellency of her naturall gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person
the only two bands of good will, louelines and louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friendly affection; which when it had gotten so full possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message from her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; then streight grew an exceeding delight still to be with her, with an vnmeasurable liking of all that Zelmane did: matters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-will, now good-will became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. Then followed that most naturall effect of conforming ones selfe to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all things, but to ground an imitation vpon so much an esteemed authoritie: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into her selfe, as a patterne of worthie proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it selfe (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; and as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane. If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to be mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; when Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes languishing countenance with crost armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance: till at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the badge, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in continuance did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, hauing more then ordinarie limits, and therfore she was content to second Zelmane, though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues together, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. Then would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a naturall band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night began to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day,
where-out making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld off his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitnesse descended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knewe not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent) so greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous her mother was, the more she thought the Iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so farre, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were vtter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set together, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banished all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.
But the principall cause that inuited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Siluan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.
YOu liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine
Of growing trees: you rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine;
My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine.
Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempred hart; by thee my promise sent
Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know.
No fancy mine, nor others wrong suspect
Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect.
O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye,
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.
But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes together, as they might seeme a little chappell: and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.
MY words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde,
This marble chose, as of like temper knowne:
But lo
•
, my words defaste, my fancies blinde,
Blots to the stone, shames to my selfe I finde:
And witnesse am, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand with constant marble stone.
My words full weake, the marble
•
ull of might;
My words in store, the marble all alone;
My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white;
My words vnseene, the marble still in sight,
May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand, with constant marble stone.
But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as then this recantation to the former vowe, (laying all her faire length vnder one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden her selfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene
her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My parents (said she) haue told me, that in these faire heauenly bodies, there are great hidden deities, which haue their working in the ebbing and flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, and if I haue with wicked intent made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my hart fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But if extreame and vnresistable violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you can not help me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enioying; but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a ground which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wits to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, ô Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler set such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for mee? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelmane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I thinke impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very ground whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me: for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.
In this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she rauingly haue remained, but that Dametas and Miso (who were round about to seeke her, vnderstanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his part, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foot, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she would giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well
as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, and looking vpon a wax-candle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronke vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorow) she earnestlie intreated to know the cause thereof, that either she might comfort, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had perceiued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our countrey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sad Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnworthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? These words wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talke better as they lay together, they impouerished their cloathes to inrich their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refresh himselfe betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtaine, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: and tell me whether you did euer see any thing so amended as our Pastorall sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excellencies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: onely I maruaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to vse the goade, and when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardman, though he pretend to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constancy of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse
adoo should, if my hart could haue thought those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke Vertue it selfe is no armour of proofe against affection. Therefore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheares come too late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away. But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her loue, went away amaine withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, and so held continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, and euer kept from it (as well because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, and saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleeue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shall know my teares come not, neither of repentance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? euen the Prince Musidorus, famous ouer all Asia, for his heroicall enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me dear sister (for the Gods are my witnesses I desire to do vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far exceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow beliefe? That consideration did not want in me: for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground beliefe. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assurance: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poore soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea and detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth himselfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.
A few daies since, he and Dametas had furnished themselues very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe-skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace hee presented himselfe before me on horseback, making maiestie wait vpon humblenes? how at the first, standing still with his eies bent vpon me, as though his motions were chained to my looke, he so staid till I caused Mopsa bid him do something vpō his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of violence) you might see him come towards me, beating the ground in so due time, as no dancer can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, when the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Centaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legs: and in effect so did he command him, as
his owne limmes: for though he had both spurres and wand, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hande and legge (with most pleasing grace) commanding without threatning, and rather remembring thē chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stollen, as neither our eies could discerne it, nor the horse with any change did complaine of it: he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hande something gently stirre, but indeede so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him selfe (which mee thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines and nimblenes; sometimes making him turne close to the grounde, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: somtimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bounde ouer the hillockes: and all so done, as neither the lusty kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, euer concluding each thing hee did with his face to me-wardes, as if thence came not onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sport was to se Dametas, how he was tost from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the grounde, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before hee had euer saide, he wanted but horse and apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was faine alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanishe eies could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the pointe fall, and taking the Ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were diuers motions) they did so stealinglie slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eie coulde discerne the former was ended. Indeede Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleenes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull.
But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much more I founde reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of minde to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, that as some Phisitions haue tolde me, that when one is colde outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truely the colde ashes laid vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire frō it. Ful often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eies, turned backe to drown my hart. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eies (being his diligent intelligencers) could carrie vnto him no other newes, but discōfortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexterity?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bin brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris.
Think (swet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truly, my Paris was a Paris, & more thē a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, & legs, he made loue to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenaunce, and true teares,
that he felte the parte he playde. Tell mee (sweete Philoclea,) did you euer see such a shephearde? tell mee, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered mee. Truely I woulde hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But since my parentes deale so cruelly with mee, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my lookes beene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruiteles trials, haue wrought such change in him, as I tel you true (with that word she laid her hād vpon her quaking side) I do not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drew she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to day (with an afflicted humblenes) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.
MOst blessed paper, which shalt kisse that hād, where to all blessednes is in nature a seruant, do not yet disdaine to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraide to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to moste hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vppon you, your blackenes will shine: cry out boldly my Lamentation; for while she reads you, your cries will be musicke. Say then (O happie messenger of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, and too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eies and voice doe exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fitte, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudgement: O you, the onely honour to women, to men the onelie admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue placed mee, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how mean so euer he be) it is reason you haue an accoūt of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased? But he dieth: it is most true, he dieth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Wherof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dies, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinied Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it sufficeth her wisedom to know, that her heauenlie will shalbe accomplished.
O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these wordes? and are these words lightly to bee regarded? But if you had seene, when with trembling hande hee had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eies; but both times the former resolution stopte the entrie of it: so that hee departed without obtaining any further kindenesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindely; and
truely the feare of him euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (saide Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to stich vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with selfe-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.
Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeede the onely subiect of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfortunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because shee would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow form pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: only I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.
But the darkenesse of sorrow ouershadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked frō dreames which flattered them with more cōfort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate conferēce, but that she should be present to heare what passed. Miso hauing now her authoritie encreased, But cāe with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: and that, when shee was of their age, shee trowed, shee would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time a day. The two sweete Princes with a smilinge silence answered her entertainement, and obeiyng her direction, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (and sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprinted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) shee woulde take further iudgement of him, before shee woulde moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweet-meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some parte of his life past; which although fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom shee was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, & his vertuous father: which thus she did.
Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a gr
•
at losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of whom all men expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, and yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus) no expectation in others, nor hope in himselfe could aspire to a higher mark, then to bee thought worthy to be praised by
your iudgement, and made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so sweet & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so coulde not you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the worlde a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of roiall ancestors, famous, and famous for victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of minde more louely; valiaunt, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequeathed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue founde some more gratious acceptation? with that hee imprisoned his looke for a while vppon
Mopsa, who thereuppon fell into a very wide smiling. Truely (saide Pamela) Dorus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the midde day Sunne, though he bee sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure hee is, he shall shoote higher, then who aimes but at a bushe. But I pray you Dorus
(saide shee) tell me (since I perceiue you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly roiall vertues, or by what waies he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going together, the storie of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.
Incomparable Lady (said he) your commaundement doth not onely giue mee the wil, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon,
a kingdom, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that euen the particular kings therein did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kinde of fealtie thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, when hee came to his crowne, finding by his latter ancestors either negligence, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those dueties had beene intermitted, woulde neuer stirre vp olde titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) shoulde be broken; but contenting himself
•
to guide that shippe, wherin the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of kingdomes: for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and moste iust in the perfourming what he saw, and temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrarie: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make anie wrongfull threatning vppon him. A Prince, that indeede especiallie measured his greatnesse by his goodnes: & if for any thing he loued greatnes, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of bodie, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age so as he was about fisty yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepheardish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.
This King left Orphan both of father & mother, (whose father and grandfather likewise had died yong) he found his estate, when he came to the age (which allowed his authoritie) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouernment, that the name of a King was growne euen odious to the people, his authorytie hauing bin abused by those great Lords, and litle kings: who in those betweene times of raigning (by vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, and oppressing them that would defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchie; that is when men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe, be, to whom they should obey.
For they hauing the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal go out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated; the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenaunce serue to vndermine the Royall souerainty. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faultes, then to preuent faults: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as the abiding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlinges, glad in deede to be vnderlinges to them they hated lest, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining shuld discouer the others filthines; and at lēgth vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be directed; olde men long
•
usled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reformation; young men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new fanglenesse both of manners, apparell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchaundise abused, and so townes decaied for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defences neglected; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended.
In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withall, did the King Euarchus finde his estate, when he tooke vppon him the regiment: which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seuerity, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which hee rather sought to preuent then to punishe) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, shoulde now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundered a duety into the subiectes hearts, hee soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuy, coulde any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely: his first and principal care being to appear vnto his people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his lawes, and his lawes as it were, his axioms arising out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular
loue in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue them? He euen in reason disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, shoulde loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make themselues (as it were) an other thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: He cōtrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their libertie, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight in their wellfare, brought that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte hee flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an accasion of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before hee had done of iustice.
He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly saide, that she was no vnfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was come. Her he had giuen in mariage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frendship, as to confirm the frendship betweene their posteritie, which betweene them, by the likenes of vertue, had beene long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus, could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valiant, wise, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares from vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to speake of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable fri
•
ndship (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betweene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) go on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing married his sister, had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus: of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange and incredible thinges should be performed by that childe; whether the heauens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankinde, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borrow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnesse of their affirmation accompanie the greatnesse of what they did affirm (euen descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should ouercome) that the king of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought himselfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: because a skilfull man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish man, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering that if it
were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, and by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded Thessalia, and brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his sister, and shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, and his brother, King of Pannonia,
had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friends helpe) in a great battaile depriued of life, his obsequies being no more solemnised by the teares of his partakers, then the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus,
that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles, both Heauens and Earth giuing tokens of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time so set, for the decreeing of perfection in a man, as at that time all folkes skilfull therein did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death of Musidorus.
But the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that
Euarchus recommended the care of his only sonne to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him and those euill neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (perchaunce because among his subiects) exceedingly beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in them, were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue conceits not vnworthy of the best speakers: excellent deuises being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of battailes, and fortifications being then deliuered to their memory, which after, their stronger iudgements might dispense, the delight of tales being conuerted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, and teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, and that taught them with far more diligent care, then Grammaticall rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, and their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers; and in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no seruile feare vsed towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannie: Nature hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.
Among which nothing I so much delight to recount, as the memorable friendship
that grew betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neere one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reuerence full of loue to Musidorus, and Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus:
till Pyrocles, being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, that not Musidorus, no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or become the deliuery more gracefully, or employ all more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull: but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.
At which time vnderstanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to them both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake off all delayes; which Musidorus for his part thought already had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntill he might go with him: which hauing fast bound his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now being both sent for by Euarchus, & finding Pyrocles able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not only bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus, they recommended themselues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a seruaunt, wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moouing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, wherewith they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary purpose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power and noble effects of Loue, whereby
the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the heauenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their conceats with confirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from Land-seruice, they had for a day and almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.
But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked ouer all the face of heauen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on-For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselues fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they could almost bethinke themselues of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vnder which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, our which the tossed and tottring ship should clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so disseuered the louing companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them neuer met againe, but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizantium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune failes them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a d
•
rkenesse, as if it would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, and the shrouds of the ship with a ghastfull noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those floting kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terriblenesse of the continuall motion, the desolation of the far-being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striken sailes to yeeld to be gouerned by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to
•
hewe it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in theyr countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what
might be done (putting their hands to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vpon a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruell mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to haue her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the top of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roaring voices, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason.
But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill, and desiring to escape, only to serue the rule of vertue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the ship, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo seruice, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the ship. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) shewed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia, in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and hauing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the Iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, and euen when they mente to dye, themselues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that louing part, farre from glorie, hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.
But now of all the royall Nauie they lately had, they had left but one little peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchanged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceeding swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vpon the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.
For being cast on land much brused and beaten both with the Seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and euen almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to discouer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wet and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busines then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) began in captious manner to put interrogatories vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iourney off, with letters from that officer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in discouering so great a personage; adding withall more then was true of his coniectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.
This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whome he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie & mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, because of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares began to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destenie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subiects did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then
gaue he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, especially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccesse proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking himselfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharp punishment: and when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no humour, to which impudent pouertie cannot make itselfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those of desperate ambition, who would build their houses vpon others ruines, which after should fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of them: while suspition bred the mind of crueltie, and the effects of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (full of watchfull fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning themselues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.
But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because euer thinking the worst) that those forces were prouided against him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite lost the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, he thought, he woulde take him away, from being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyranny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuincible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragious wrong, carrying himself in all his demeanure so constantly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.
But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendship in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyrocles
was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, hee found meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whome largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subiect) he euer profest himselfe his seruaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstand, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put him selfe into his hands: knowing well, that how thirstie so euer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he would rather drinke that of Musidorus.
The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to
ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euarchus, so preuayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.
And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte the worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and countenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not releeued by him: asking him, what he had euer seene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man? and why he should enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome praie to the vniust King, and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromward his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be.
Yet because he would in one acte, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withall cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilfull crueltie, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a minde comforted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.
The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, borne to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, and hauing his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (separa
•
ed somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, and putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer man betweene ioy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after considering his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles, so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and
Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking of him selfe to vse the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts
from his cheekes to his tongue in this sort: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place of defence) but making it a preseruation in not hoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst them all (for all were enimies) and had quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffold to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, iust rage and desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sort of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the world should behold him a beholder) commaunded his gard, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.
But as they were still fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (commaunded to go vp after his fellowes against the Princes) hauing receiued a light hurt, more wounded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so accompanied, he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight reuenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such things often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherewith certaine yong men of the brauest mindes, cried with lowde voice, Libertie; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sort set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser (seeing that a popular licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defend them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.
But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere hand, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces
were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: and with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus,
after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obteined, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a gouernment, as they promised themselues of him.
But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a kingdome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, and next to the succession, an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger from him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest secrecy, and asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-man: but with such conditions, and cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurance as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom indeed they looked for all good, but the nature of the gouernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyranny.
This dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificence, then the other act did his magnanimitie: so that greatly praysed of all, and iustly beloued of the new King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, and Liegeman, they were drawne thence to reuenge those who seruants of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellent Princesse) in willingly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: from whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought to the maine land of Pontus; the same country vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.
For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or reuengefulnes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant in his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a friend, but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himselfe, then by killing them: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.
He chanced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a man of the most enuious disposition, that (I think) euer infected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie man, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: contrary to the natures of all other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good news the argumēt of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour
no man could winne, but by being miserable. And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnderstanding of their aduenture, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when aduauncement (the most mortall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late death of the King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Councellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reuenging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (till that time one of his owne subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did euer take heed of. But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into warre, desiring their seruants liberty. But he swelling in their humblenes, (like a bubble blowne vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw their happines in hauing such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with vnroyall reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen.
But that iniurie went beyond all degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more enclining to pitie) he was slaine vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their dead liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the honour done to their dead carcasses. There might Pyrocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers acts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, and monstrous men: all which in short time by priuate combats they deliuered the countries of.
Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse and force, therefore commonly called Giants, who kept themselues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path,
where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, whereunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vnconquered courage, so a rude faithfulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impatient of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euidēt to thē; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of fauor, which (many examples hauing taught them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they ful of rage, retyred thēselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster thē reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) full of inward brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it selfe faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, growing more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleased themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a seruiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secretly vndertooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make them suffer death by their hands: and so they were manifoldly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.
It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares to the world: so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one occasion beget another; wherby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirit. And therefore hauing well established those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, and to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and therefore would themselues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to Heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie, (like
Vlysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth
of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an aduenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vn-vsed examples therein, as well of true naturall goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse.
It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place which a certaine hollow rocke offering vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kinde of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade mee to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.
This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of
Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either
of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me entreate you to conuay this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.
But before they coulde make him aunswere, his father began to speake. Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my ears, (the onely sense now left mee proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp his blinde eies, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I doe wish my selfe, which is as euill as may bee, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whome from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my sonne (ô God, that truth bindes me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath saide, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mariage, of a mother fitte to beare roiall children, this sonne (such a one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growen to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I bee bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies be vsed to bring me to it, if I shoulde tell you, I shoulde tediouslie trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not; no remembraunce, of naughtinesse delightes me, but mine owne; and me thinkes, the accusing his trappes might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainelie I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruauntes of mine, whome I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.
But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorelie: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a priuate souldier, in a countrey here by. But as hee was ready to be greatlie aduaunced for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my selfe so to be gouerned by him, that all fauours and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauorites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my selfe nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with manie indignities (if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laide vppon me) threw me out of my seate, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tirannie) let me goe, neither imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie in deede, if euer there were any; full of wretchednesse, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tirannie, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himselfe a well-willer of mine; to say the truth (I thinke) few of
them being so (considering my cruell folly to my good sonne, and foolish kindnesse to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who felt a pitty of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine duety lefte in them towardes me; yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing mee almes at their doores; which yet was the onely sustenaunce of my distressed life, no body daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende mee a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthy of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wronges, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kinde office you see him performe towardes me, to my vnspeakeable griefe; not only because his kindnes is a glasse euen to my blind eies, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatlie aduenture the losse of his well deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if hee would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, howe much so euer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet hee will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade mee to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto mee. And now gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may bee the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully followes his owne ruine.
The matter in it selfe lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face coulde not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which coulde not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came himselfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as hee came, not regarding the weake (as hee thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) howe falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but brauely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assayled him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did behaue them among that companie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.
Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuailed, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger
presently to follow those two Princes whom hee most dearely loued) was come in al hast, following as wel as he could their track with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fitte place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.
But then the match had beene so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse gotten honour should haue tumbled together to destruction; had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor, with forty or fifty in their suite, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vppe from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to knowe feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that shoulde deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismaied, and euer fortunate; and truely no more setled in valure, then disposed to goodnes and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a childe, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing vp (rather then choise) hauing first knit their mindes vnto him, (indeede crafty inough, either to hide his faultes, or neuer to shewe them, but when they might pay home) they willingly helde out the course, rather to satisfie him, then all the worlde; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill hee did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a countrey full of euill-wishing mindes toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they founde him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truely I may iustly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had neuer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of security; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus farre begun, it became not the constancy of the Princes so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrigia, they had in fewe daies, lefte him but onely that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing beene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had beene broken.
In which season the blinde King (hauing in the chiefe cittie of his Realme, set the crown vppon his son Leonatus head) with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his new-become subiect) euen in a moment died, as it should seeme: his heart broken with vnkindenes and affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort, as it was able no longer to keepe safe his vitall spirites. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all dueties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnnaturall brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truely I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whome the Princes neuer found in all their trauaile two of greater hability to performe, nor of habler skil for conduct.
But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humblenes to creepe, where by pride he coulde not
marche. For certainely so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft con
•
ormed him to all turningnes of of sleights, that though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no man more impudent to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting manner of aggrauating his owne euill, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he woulde put Plexirtus aliue into his hands) to speake with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission hee vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; and anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the faulte past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author thereof,) were deliuered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.
In such sort the Princes left these reconciled brothers (Plexirtus in all his behauiour carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) and taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompanie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her succour, both because the weaker (and weaker as being a Ladie,) and partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men liuing, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetned by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like bothe hugenes and force: in which two especially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those brothers
Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned themselues with thē that faithfully serued the poore Queene, at that time besieged: & ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their strēgth by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their
old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliuerie of the Queene Erona.
I haue heard (saide Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus when hee passed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeede sat swallowing of sleepe with open mouth, making such a noise withall, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, and hardy earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this dragon sleepes, that keeps the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may bee the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternall powers, that the words I speake may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which cannot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she sodainly start vp, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling and: therfore now (said she Dorus go on.
But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, and by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus departe. But Pamela (delighted euen to preserue in her memory, the words of so well a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues something, (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselues (such being the manner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale down after them: which shee might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basilius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his deuotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea: but not a word could shee beginne, but that Miso would bee one of the audience; so that shee was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side which of all the riuers of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse,
in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accounted exceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one coulde not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauell did purifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine woulde embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would slippe from it; either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouer-much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the
〈…〉
But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, & dressed her greene lockes, by that rūning Riuer. There the Princesses dete
•
mining to bathe thēselus, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpō pain of death, as on bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer
•
sh
•
wing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes g
•
tting vp a gaine: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) inweeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse: & inuiting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, & she
•
xcusing her selfe with hauing takē a late cold, they begā by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparel.
Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she was taken with such a quiuering, that shee thought it more wisedome to leane herselfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Phil
•
clea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dya
•
on taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch,
•
mbrace and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, and leaue Philoclea, who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnes
•
e pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moued her feete, vnwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come ouer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the deepest that there-about shee could be: & when cold Ladon had once fully imbraced th
•
m, himselfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.
Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not s
•
ay thy course to haue more full tast of thy happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embracing, that the nether (though lothly) must needes giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom shee is, vpō whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happy Ladon, which
art now an vnperfect mirror of all perfection, canst thou euer forget the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds and mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fall into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh
Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty bubbles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large vpon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.
But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that now all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more homage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In so much that taking vp the Lute, her wit began to be with a diuine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated; her soule the Queene which should be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.
WHat toong can her perfections tell
In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her haire fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed; more white then snow,
Which on cold winters face doth grow.
That doth present those euen browes,
Whose equall line their angles bowes,
Like to the Moone when after chaunge
Her horned head abroad doth raunge:
And arches be to heauenly lids,
Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.
For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,
The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine.
No lampe, whose light by Art is got,
No Sunne, which shines, and seeth not,
Can liken them without all peere,
Saue one as much as other cleere:
Which onely thus vnhappie be,
Because themselues they cannot see.
Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed,
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.
Her nose, her chinne pure iuorie weares:
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood,
Like wine and milke that mingled stood.
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,
Your eyes may tread a Louers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray,
No talke vntaught can finde the way.
The tippe no iewell needes to weare:
The tippe is iewell of the eare.
But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselues doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,
In worth, in taste, in perfit hewe:
Which neuer part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe,
The second sweetly-fenced warde,
Her heau'nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe.
Faire vnder these doth stately growe,
The handle of this pretious worke,
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.
Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say inuites the eye,
A little downward to espie,
The liuelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests:
Like pomels round of Marble cleere:
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.
Betwixt these two a way doth lie,
Away more worthie beauties fame,
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the ioyous field,
Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld:
But Lillies such who
•
e natiue smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde, for it doth waste
Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste.
There may one see, and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face,
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.
In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought,
But that her nauel doth vnite,
In curious circle, busie sight:
A daintie seale of virgin-waxe,
Where nothing but impression lackes.
Her bellie then glad sight doth fill,
Iustly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master,
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke,
But soft and supple satten like.
In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport:
Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort.
"For such a vse the world hath gotten,
"The best things still must be forgotten.
Yet neuer shall my song omitte
Hir thighes, for Ouids song more fitte;
Which flanked with two sugred flankes,
Lift vp their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion cliues in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.
But bow all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie sees.
The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue,
Whose motion makes all graces moue.
Whose bought incau'd doth yeeld such sight,
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her braue calues, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,
More white then whitest bone of all.
Thereout steales out that round cleane foote
This noble Cedars pretious roote:
In shewe and sent pale violets,
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.
But back vnto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes,
Along whose ridge such bones are met,
Like comfits round in marchpane set.
Her shoulders be like two white Doues,
Pearching within square royall rooues,
Which leaded are with siluer skinne,
Passing the hate-spott Ermelin.
And thence those armes deriued are;
The Phoenix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe,
Ah woe is me, my woes renewe;
Now course doth leade me to her hand,
Of my first loue the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte:
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compact dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes,
Which conduit-like with curious crookes,
Sweete Ilands make in that sweete land.
As for the fingers of the hand,
The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre,
With amatists they headed are.
Thus hath each part his beauties part,
But how the Graces doo impart
To all her limmes a speciall grace,
Becomming euery time and place.
Which doth euen beautie beautifie,
And most bewitch the wretched eye.
How all this is but a faire Inne
Of fairer guests, which dwell within.
Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse,
Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is.
The inke immortall fame dooth lende:
As I began, so must I ende.
No tongue can her perfections tell,
In whose each part all tongues may dwell.
But as Zelmane was comming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had hunted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by and by he came againe, and amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of four or fiue leaues of paper, and was bearing that away too. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importance it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily cōming in, the Gentleman rose vp, and with a courteous (though sad) countenāce presented himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her minde to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being indeed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine
make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue and paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let them know of his close lying in in that prohibited place, while they were bathing themselues; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my selfe the punishment. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnes, not my presumption. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart cannot persuade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soule (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drew out her sword, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentleman retired himself into an open place frō among the bushes; and then drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sword against you, since (if I be not deceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, and saued her life in killing the Lion: therefore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowledging my selfe bound to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sword that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it selfe to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane
harkening to no more words, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes and thrusts, that Nature and Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet still courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defensiue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning auoidings of his body; and somtimes faining some blows, which himself puld back before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow out of her owne sweet dsposition, determining to kill him if he fought no better; and so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respects, who stands onely vpon defence, stands vpon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found
could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to deliuer the gloue, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could haue done. But (saide shee) because I perceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a year come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue and admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.
But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to whom Mopsa curious in any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed and seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, and the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should part from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reuerence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hiding the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, and Zelmane carefull of his wound. But whē they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, especially while themselues were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacifie with sleepe his ouerwatched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, and withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her selfe for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue long desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: and at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon condition you shall hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene vs. Amphialus answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, and prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far off (who knew and wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherewith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that fauour.
He being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene them) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake off so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cumbersome obedience, Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela hauing a while made the lute in his language, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers,
Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that euer I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. Hee lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme trauaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that hee forced to take any rest; so hasty hee was vpon his iourney: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was painted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and possionate talking to him self, moued my Father to fal in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.
Plangus. Basilius.
Plangus.
ALas how long this pilgrimage doth last?
What greater ills haue now the heauens in store,
To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore,
With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,
But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found,
To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde,
Where it should be to selfe-destruction bound?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?
Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine,
But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne;
Turnd from themselues, infected with their cage,
Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pla'st to fill a filthy stage,
Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes,
And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage,
The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes,
With cries first borne, the presage of his life,
Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife
This bodie is: this bodie so composed,
As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife,
So diuers be the Elements disposed
In this weake worke, that it can neuer be
Made vniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see
(Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues)
This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues:
For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine,
Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.
Basilius.
How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine
The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?
Plangus.
Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build
Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire
For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire
Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow
With losse of purest blood themselues to teare?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow,
Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease,
And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew,
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,
Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,
Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no: Despaire my dayly lesson saith,
And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,
Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death,
Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie
(Though in despaire) for Loue so forceth me;
Plangus doth liue, and shall Erona dye?
Erona dye? O heauen (if heauen there be)
Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?
Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect
To those high powers, which idly sit aboue,
And vertue do in greatest need neglect.
Basilius.
O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue
To causefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.
Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue.
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist
Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue)
We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme vs wormes should that high Iustice leaue
His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is.
What glorie from our losse can he receaue?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,
While that we do at his sweete scourge repine,
The kindly way to beate vs on to blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line
Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone,
That doost so well their miseries define?
But such we are with inward tempest blowne
Of windes quite contrarie in waues of will:
We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.
Plangus.
And shall she dye? shall cruell fier spill
Those beames that set so many harts on fire?
Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill?
Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire
Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall,
Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all,
And hopes with foule embracements her to get,
In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall.
O Vertue weake, shall death his triumph set
Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste?
Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?
What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower?
What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra'st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower
That sweetens all the place; she is the guest
Of rarest price, both heau'n and earth her bower.
And shall (ô me) all this in ashes rest?
Alas, if you a Phoenix new will haue
Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue
Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might
In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons damme to graue.
Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight,
Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe
Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe?
To let that wit-old beast consume in flames
Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes?
O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames,
In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace.
"Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes.
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face,
Her face which was more liuely in my hart;
O braine, where thought of her hath onely place;
O hand, which toucht her hand when we did part;
O lippes, that kist that hand with my teares sprent;
O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart;
O soule whose loue in her is onely spent,
What ere you see, think, touch, kisse, speake, or loue,
Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.
Basilius.
Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue,
They vttred are in such a feeling fashion,
That sorrowes worke against my will I proue.
Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,
And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie:
Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion.
Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie,
To hold these wordly things in such proportion,
As let them come or go with euen facilitie.
But our Desires tyrannicall extortion
Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes,
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.
But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes,
Seeke we to tame these childish superfluities:
Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes.
For what can breed more peeuish incongruities,
Then man to yeeld to female lamentations?
Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.
Plangus.
If through mine eares pearce any consolation
By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction;
If ought I cease these hideous exclamations,
While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction;
Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
To wretched me, the last worst malediction.
Can I, that know her sacred parts, restrained be
From any ioy? know fortunes vile displacing her,
In morall rules let raging woes contained be?
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,
With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes
She lay for dead, till I helpt with vnlasing her?
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
With Diamond in window-glasse she graued,
Erona dye, and end this ougly painefulnes?
Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued
That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother,
As if by death she onely might be saued?
Then let me eke forget one hand from other:
Let me forget that Plangus I am called:
Let me forget I am sonne to my mother,
But if my memory must thus be thralled
To that strange stroke which conquer'd all my senses,
Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?
Basilius.
Who still doth seeke against him selfe offences,
What pardon can auaile? or who imployes him
To hurt himselfe, what shields can be desenses?
Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him
In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled,
He heapes in outward griefe, that most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled:
Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow:
Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow:
And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided,
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided,
We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is:
So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse
Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.
The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.
When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie much of the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (saide she) one may be little the wiser for reading this Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to finde by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that after hee knew my father to bee Prince of this countrie, while hee hoped to preuaile something with him in a great request hee made vnto him, hee was content to open fully the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I liste to spende about it) hee recounted. Of late there raigned a King in Lydia, who had for the blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be prayse-worthy. This princesse Erona, being 19. yeeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lydia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pictures and images were superstitiously adored (ether moued thereunto by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which coulde breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface al those statues & pictures. Which how terribly he punished (for to that the Lydians impute it) quickly after appeared.
For she had not liued a yeare longer, whē she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a young man but of meane parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that hee was but the sonne of her Nurse, and by that meanes (without
other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) shee for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to with drawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, and giuing her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) hee shortly after died. Then foorth with Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.
But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she was ouertaken with a war the King Tiridates made vpon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell and tyrannous: for (being far too strong in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, and tuned them in the cries of her subiects; although his faire sister Artaxia (who would accompany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; when there came thether (following the course which Vertue and Fortune led them) two excellent young Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedon, the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Plangus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes and teares) the most accomplished both in body & minde, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to herselfe) which are not onely a praise to mee, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.
These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswell to help the weaker (especially being a Ladie) as ta saue a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering to gether such of the honestest Lycians, as would venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secret message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with al force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tiridates
campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the footmē, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie.
Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his fellow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Antiphilus
(though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had
no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then himselfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyrocles
was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: and against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his owne cousin germain, and sonne to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Plangus
tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equall, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: and to bring Erona to a compelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike off Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affection) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should be layed vpon Antiphilus.
Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our owne thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effectes: she being drawne to two cōtraries by one cause. For the loue of him commaunded her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him commaunded her to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, ô Erona? and shall Tiridates enioy thy bodie? with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he shall know that an other possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neuer haue more part of Antiphilus then if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affection shalbe still gnawing, and the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shal die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Loue had well kindled that partie of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona, and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head off. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tiridates: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpon him afterward; this is but feare of shame, and loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe? he shalbe married; if he be well, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these words if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Antiphilus sawe her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times calling for a seruaunt to carry
message of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, when she remembred the fruits of denying. For weeping, sighing, wringing her hands, and tearing her haire, were indifferent of both sides. Easily she would haue agreed to haue broken all disputations with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At length, euen the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determination of yeelding preuailed, especially, growing vpon a message of Antiphilus; who with all the coniuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired them to try some way for her deliuerance; shewing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.
They that knew not what she had done in priuate, prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what is inconstancy, seemes cunning; so did this change indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulation. For it made the King as reckles, as them diligent: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne; with whom she would needs go, either to die her selfe, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, conueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with true lamentations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way comfort her in respect of her brothers losse, whom she studied all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasioners, hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abhominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any priuate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an other aduenture) left them.
But now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when they intend to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares from me, yet may I wel desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withall wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vpon another. (And as she spake that word, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue held the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; and so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I will none of that, I promise you, as long as I haue the gouernmēt, I wil first haue my tale, & then my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned from Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you will haue first, and last word of your husbands.
The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she looked, hauing threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: and Miso (sitting on the ground with her knees vp, and her hands vpon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto them. I tell you true (said she) whatsoeuer you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husband, then Dametas. But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are full in your tittle tattlings of Cupid: here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old womā told me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in writing; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young men talke; O the pretie little eies of Miso; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, and the other cast daiseys at me: I must confesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set vp my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woman perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woman) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now adaies, and in that good world was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a number of lads that loue you; Well (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Loue is? With that she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foule fiend I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This monster sat like a hangman vpon a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurel, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth hong a lace of two faire pictures, of a man and a woman, and such a countenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those aluremēts to come thither & be hanged. I, like a tender harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (said she) this same is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellows, one after another; and it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secret; but vpō my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come frō the belly of the faire Venus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had told me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therwith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false
Argus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, and there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there.
But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.
POore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne,
To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits:
One brings the stuffe, the other stamps the coine,
Which breedes nought else but gloses of deceits.
Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do
A naked God, blinde young, with arrowes two.
Is he a God, that euer flies the light?
Or naked he, disguis'd in all vntruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tam'd old Phoebus youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade?
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.
No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury kill'd his false sire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardon'd beastly fact.
With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame,
With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed,
The wretch compell'd a runnagate became,
And learn'd what ill a miser state doth breed,
To lye, to steale, to pry, and to accuse,
Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse.
Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts,
A horned head, clouen feete, and thousand eyes,
Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes,
With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes.
His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight:
His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright.
Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts,
Cloth'd in the shape which soonest may deceaue:
Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants,
In those weake harts that his aduice receaue.
He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt,
Sucking ones ill, another to infect.
To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine:
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire:
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.
But for that Loue is worst which rules the eyes,
Thereon his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues;
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:
Till now at length that Ioue him office giues,
(At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue)
In this our world a hang-man for to be,
Of all those fooles that will haue all they see.
The Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will thinke (answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishnes going vp and downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that euery body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpon a goodly horse, one haire of gold, and the other of siluer; and so the Knight casting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away togither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest complaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard them, vanisht quite away: and she lay downe, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, & burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, and fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hill, and many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, and cried to her for helpe: and she for pittie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, till she was come to the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, and she went, and neuer rested the euening, where she went in the morning; till she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.
Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, and I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it should grow a festiuall Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these Ladies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.
The father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this sonne, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned againe vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp all thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after; recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.
This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused by the greenenes of his youth, which tooke all the fault vpon it selfe) loued a priuate mans wife of the principall Citie of that Kingdome, if that may be called loue, which he rather did take into himselfe willingly, then by which he was taken forcibly. It sufficeth, that the yong mā perswaded himself he loued her: she being a womā beautifull enough, if it be possible, that the onely outside can iustly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as onely fledde to be caught, the young Prince brought his affection with her to that point, which ought to engraue remorse in her hart, & to paint shame vpō her face. And so possest he his desire without any interruption; he constantly fauouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I haue seene one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinfull sleepe his minde (vnworthie so to be lost) was not to be cald to it selfe, but by a sharpe accident. It fell out, that his many-times leauing of the court (in vndue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes eares be manifolde) from one to another came vnto the King; who (carefull of his onely sonne) sought, and found by his spies (the necessarie euill seruaunts to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights so diuerted. Whereupon, the King (to giue his fault the greater blow) vsed such meanes, by disguising himselfe, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he tooke, laying threatnings vpon her, and vpon him reproaches. But the poore young Prince (deceiued with that young opinion, that if it be euer lawful to lie, it is for ones Louer,) employed all his wit to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bende him from that (as he counted it) crooked
conceit of her he wrested him, as much as he coulde possiblie, to the other side: not sticking with prodigal protestations to set foorth her chastitie; not denying his own attempt, but thereby the more extolling her vertue. His Sophistrie preuayled, his father beleeued; and so beleeued, that ere long (though he were already stept into the winter of his age) he founde himselfe warme in those desires, which were in his sonne farre more excusable. To be short, he gaue himselfe ouer vnto it; and (because he would auoide the odious comparison of a yong riuall) sent away his sonne with an armie, to the subduing of a Prouince lately rebelled against him, which he knew could not be a lesse worke, then of three or foure yeares. Wherein he behaued him so worthilie, as euen to this country the fame thereof came, long before his owne comming: while yet his father had a speedier succes, but in a far vnnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing onely in age and affection) followed his suite with all meanes of vnhonest seruants, large promises, and each thing els that might help to counteruaile his owne vnlouelines.
And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus, or at lest not hoping of him to obtaine so aspiring a purpose, lefte no art vnused, which might keepe the line from breaking, whereat the fishe was alredy taken; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himselfe vpon the hooke, which he had so greedily swalowed. For, accompanying her mourning garments with a dolefull countenaunce, yet neither forgetting handsomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetenes in her dolefull countenance; her wordes were euer seasoned with sighes; and any fauour she shewed, bathed in teares, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might perswade cause of affection. And being growen skilful in his humors she was no lesse skilfull in applying his humors: neuer suffering his feare to fall to a despaire, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: shee was content he should thinke that she loued him; and a certaine stolne looke should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon hee grewe bolde, hee straight was encoūtered with a maske of vertue. And that which seemeth most impossible vnto me, (for as neere as I can I repeate it as Plangus tolde it) she could not only sigh when she would, as all can doo; & weep whē she would, as (they
•
ay) some can doo; but (being most impudent in her heart) she could, when she would, teach her chekes blushing, & make shamefastnes the cloake of shamelesnes. In sum, to leaue out many particularities which he recited, she did not only vse so the spurre, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on euen in such a careere as she would haue it; that within a while the king, seing with no other eys but such as she gaue him, & thinking on other thoughts, but such as she taught him; hauing at the first liberal measure of fauors, thē shortned of thē, whē most his Desire was inflam'd; he saw no other way but mariage to satisfie his longing, and her minde (as he thought) louing, but chastly louing. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he found his father, not onely maried, but alredy a father of a sonne and a da
•
ghter by this woman. Which though Plangus (as he had euery way iust cause) was grieued at; yet did his griefe neuer bring foorth ether contemning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who besides she was growen a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eies her owne fault, and made his conscience her guiltines) thought still that his presence caried her condemnation: so much the more, as that she (vnchastly attempting his wonted fancie
•
) found (for the reuerence of his fathers bed) a bitter refusall
•
which breeding rather spite then shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not
of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not onely (as hating him) thirst for a reuenge, but (as fearing harm form him) endeuoured to doo harme vnto him. Therefore did she trie the vttermost of her wicked wit, how to ouerthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the fauour of his father: which because she saw strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cunning how to vndermine it. And therefore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) shee made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her aduancing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (neerer admiration then liking) she would extoll his excellencies, the goodlines of his shape, the power of his witte, the valiantnes of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might finde in her a singular loue towards him: nay, shee shunned not to kindle some fewe sparkes of ielousie in him. Thus hauing gotten an opinion in his father, that shee was farre from meaning mischiefe to the sonne, then fell shee to praise him with no lesse vehemencie of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For then she sets foorth the liberty of his mind the high flying of his thoughts, the fitnesse in him to beare rule, the singular loue the Subiects bare him; that it was doubtfull, whether his wit were greater in winning their fauours, or his courage in imploying their fauours: that he was not borne to liue a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Maiestie, such a Kingly entertainement, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly harte for enterprises: especially remembring those vertues, which in successor are no more honoured by the subiects, then suspected of the Princes. Then would shee by putting-off obiections, bring in obiectiōs to her husbands head, already infected with suspitiō. Nay (would she say) I dare take it vpon my death, that he is no such sonne, as many of like might haue bene, who loued greatnes so well, as to build their greatnes vpon their fathers ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Loue, can abide no lingring, and euer vrgeth on his owne successes; hating no thing, but what may stop them. But the Gods forbid, we should euer once dreame of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you and the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurte, the more admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt. Then euer remembring to strengthen the suspition of his estate with priuate ielousie of her loue, doing him excessiue honour whē he was in presence, & repeating his pretie speaches and graces in his absence; besides, causing him to be imployed in all such dangerous matters, as ether he should perish in them, or if hee preuailed, they should increase his glorie: which she made a weapon to wound him, vntill she found that suspition began already to speake for it selfe, and that her husbands eares were growne hungry of rumours, and his eies prying into euery accident.
Then tooke she help to her of a seruant neere about her husband, whō she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiencie to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischiefe. Him shee vseth to deale more plainely in alleaging causes of iealousie, making him knowe the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with diuers wayes, nourished one humour, like Musitians, that singing diuers parts, make one musicke. He sometime with fearefull countenaunce would desire the King to looke to himselfe; for that all the court and Cittie were full of whisperinges, and expectation of some soddaine change, vpon what ground himselfe knew not. Another time hee would counsell the King to make much of his sonne, and holde his fauour, for that it was too late now to keepe him vnder. Now seeming to feare himselfe, because
(he said) Plangus loued none of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, and an humble gesture beare false witnesse for his true meaning) that he found, not onely souldiery, but people weary of his gouernment, and all their affections bent vpon Plangus. Both he and the Queene concurring in strange dreames, and each thing else, that in a minde (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspition.
Which though Pl
•
ngus found, yet could he not auoid, euen contraries being driuen to draw one yoke of argument: if he were magnificent, he spent much with an aspiring intent: if he spared, hee heaped much with an aspiring intent: if hee spake curteously, he angled the peoples harts: if he were silent he mused vpon some daungerous plot. In summe, if hee could haue turned himselfe to as many formes as Proteus, euery forme should haue bene made hideous.
But so it fell out, that a meere trifle gaue them occasion of further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay a long the hill where vpon his castle stood, he saw a vine-labourer, that finding a bowe broken, tooke a branch of the same bowe for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King asking the fellow what he did, Marry (said he) I make the sonne binde the father. This word (finding the King alredy supersticious through suspition) amazed him streight, as a presage of his owne fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gaine-saying answeres as while they straue, straue to be ouercome. But euen while the doubtes most boiled, she thus nourished them.
She vnder-hand dealt with the principall men of that country, that at the great Parliament (which was then to bee held) they should in the name of all the estates perswade the King (being now stept deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his associate in gouernment with him: assuring them, that not onely she would ioine with them, but that the father himfelfe would take it kindly; charging them not to acquaint
Plangus withall; for that perhaps it might be harmefull vnto him, if the King should finde, that he were a party. They (who thought they might do it, not onely willingly, because they loued him, and truely, because such indeed was the mind of the people, but safely because she who ruled the King was agreed thereto) accomplished her counsell: she indeed keeping promise of vehement perswading the same: which the more she and they did, the more shee knew her husband woulde feare, and hate the cause of his feare. Plangus found this, and humbly protested against such desire, or will to accept. But the more hee protested, the more his father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a cūning face of falshood: and therefore delaying the desire of his subiects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands vpon his sonne: which his wife thus brought to passe.
She caused that same minister of hers to go vnto Plangus, and (enabling his words with great shew of faith, and endearing them with desire of secresie) to tell him, that he found his ruine conspired by his stepmother, with certaine of the noble men of that country, the King himselfe giuing his consent, and that few daies shoulde passe before the putting it in practize: with all discouering the very truth indeede, with what cunning his stepmother had proceeded. This agreing with Plangus his owne opinion, made him giue him the better credit: yet not so far, as to flie out of his country (according to the naughty fellowes persuasion) but to attend, and to
see further. Whereupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistresse) told him one day, that the same night about one of the clocke, the King had appointed to haue his wife, and those noble men together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: and therefore offered him, that if himselfe would agree, hee woulde bring him into a place where hee should heare all that passed; and so haue the more reason both to himselfe, and to the world, to seeke his safetie. The poore Plangus (being subiect to that onely disaduantage of honest harts, credulitie) was perswaded by him: and arming himselfe (because of his late going) was closely conueied into the place appointed. In the meane time his stepmother, making al her gestures cūningly counterfait a miserable affliction, she lay almost groueling on the flower of her chā
ber, not suffering any body to comfort her; vntill they calling for her husband, and he held of with long enquiry, at length, she tolde him (euen almost crying out euery word) that she was wery of her life, since shee was brought to that plunge, either to conceale her husbands murther, or accuse her sonne, who had euer beene more deare, then a sonne vnto her. Then with many interruptions and exclamations she tolde him, that her sonne Plangus (solliciting her in the olde affection betweene them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the lawes in the world were against it, he would marrie her when he were King.
She had not fully said thus much, with many pitifull digressiōs, when in comes the same fellow, that brought Plāgus: & rūning himself out of breath, fell at the Kings feet, beseeching him to saue himself; for that there was a man with a sword drawen in the next roome. The King affrighted, wēt out, & called his gard, who entring the place, foūd indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but standing suspiciously inough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking hee had put vp his sworde because of the noise) neuer tooke leasure to heare his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.
But the day had no sooner opened the eies & eares of his friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them, who came, & by force deliuered him; although numbers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) took armes for the King. But Plangus, though he might haue vsed the force of his friends to reuenge his wrong, and get the crowne; yet the naturall loue of his father, and hate to make their suspition seeme iust, caused him rather to choose a voluntarie exile, then to make his fathers death the purchase of his life: and therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his fathers sister, liuing in his Court eleuen or twelue yeares, euer hoping by his intercession, and his owne desert, to recouer his fathers grace. At the end of which time, the warre of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed vnto you.
But his father had so deeply engraued the suspition in his hart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearefull guiltines, then of an humble faithfulnes; and therefore continued his hate, with such vehemencie, that he did euen hate his Nephew Tiridates, and afterwardes his neece Artaxia, because in their Court hee receiued countenance, leauing no meanes vnattempted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked seruant of his, who vndertooke to empoyson him. But his cunning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful seruants of Plangus did discouer him. Whereupon the wretch was taken, & (before his well deserued execution) by torture forced to confesse the particularities of this, which in generall I
haue told you.
Which confession autentically set downe (though Tiridates with solemne Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King hauing put the reines of the gouernment into his wiues hande, neuer did so much as reade it; but sent it streight by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred vpon Plangus, for the death of their seruaunt. And now finding, that his absence, and their reports had much diminished the wauering peoples affection towardes Plangus, with aduauncing fit persons for faction, and graunting great immunities to the commons, they preuailed so farre; as to cause the sonne of the second wife, called Palladius,
to be proclaymed successour, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driuen to continue his seruing Tiridates, as hee did in the warre against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister tolde you; when Erona by the treason of Antiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius (not able longer to abide their absence) came sodainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelmane
hee was affraid shee had stollen away his daughters) inuited them to follow the Sunnes counsell in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was readie to set. They yeelded, Zelmane meaning some other time to vnderstand the storie of Antiphilus treason, and Eronas daunger, whose cause she greatly tendred. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could vtter it, she set foorth the sawcinesse of Amphialus. But Basilius onely attended what Zelmanes opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobilitie of her courage preuailed ouer it, and shee desired he might be pardoned that youthfull error; considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he gouerned himselfe, as one remembring his fault. Basilius giuing the infinite tearmes of praises to Zelmanes both valour in conquering, and pittifulnesse in pardoning, commanded no more wordes to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.
So brought he them vp to visite his wife, where betweene her, and him, the poore Zelmane receaued a tedious entertainement; oppressed with being loued, almost as much, as with louing. Basilius not so wise in couering his passion, coulde make his tong go almost no other pace, but to runne into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Louer thinkes short of his Mistres, though they reach farre beyond the heauens. But Gynecia (whome womanly modestie did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes vse the aduantage of her sexe in kissing Zelmane, as shee sate vpon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweete incense, to cast vpon the fire wherein her harte was sacrificed: Once Zelmane coulde not stirre, but that, (as if they had bene poppets, whose motion stoode onely vpon her pleasure) Basilius with seruiceable steppes, Gynecia with greedie eyes would follow her. Basilius mind Gynecia well knew, and could haue found in her hart to laugh at, if mirth could haue borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynecias actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from iealousie of his amorousnesse. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poore childe, whose father while he beates him, will make him beleeue it is for loue; or like the sicke man, to whom the Phisition sweares, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine he profers, is of a good taste) their loue was hatefull, their courtesie troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, were not only her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to her selfe) Deare Dorus, what ods is there betweene thy destiny and mine? For thou hast to doo in thy pursuite but with shepherdish
folkes, who trouble thee with a little enuious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I haue now Miso the worst of thy diuels, let loose vpon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakefull eyes of Loue and Iealousie. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou euer seest me, but dost neuer see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to heare. Alas who euer but I was imprisoned in libertie, and banished being still present? To whom but me haue louers bene iaylours, & honour a captiuitie?
But the night comming on with her silent steps vpon them, they parted each frō other (if at lest they could bee parted, of whom euery one did liue in another) and went about to flatter sleepe with their beds, that disdained to bestow it selfe liberally vpon such eies which by their will would euer be looking: and in lest measure vpon Gynecia. who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleepe, and the cheereful cōfort of the lights remoued her) kneeling vp in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swolne hart, to renue the curses of her birth; & then in a maner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of mine (said she) which neuer heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receaue this desastred chāgling? Happie, happie be they onely which bee not: and thy blessednes onely in this respect thou maiest feele, that thou hast no feeling. With that she furiously tare off great part of her faire haire: Take here ô forgotten vertue (saide shee) this miserable sacrifice; while my soule was clothed with modestie, that was a comely ornament: now why should nature crowne that head, which is so wicked, as her onely despaire is, she cannot be enough wicked? More she would haue said, but that Basilius (awaked with the noise) tooke her in his armes, and began to comfort her; the good-man thinking, it was all for a iealous loue of him: which humor if she would a little haue maintained, perchance it might haue weakned his new conceaued fancies. But hee finding her answers wandring from the purpose, left her to herselfe (glad the next morning to take the aduantage of a sleepe, which a little before day, ouer-watched with sorrow, her teares had as it were sealed vp in her eyes) to haue the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two louers, and euer kept for many meane to declare herselfe, found in her selfe a dayly encrease of her violent desires; like a riuer the more swelling, the more his current is stopped.
The chiefe recreation she could finde in her anguish, was sometime to visite that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her vnhap. There would she kisse the ground, and thanke the trees, blisse the aier, & doo dutifull reuerence to euery thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then returne againe to her inward thoughts; sometimes despaire darkning all her imaginations, sometimes the actiue passion of Loue cheering and cleering her inuention, how to vnbar that combersome hinderance of her two ill-matched louers, But this mourning Basilius himself gaue her good occasion to go beyond them. For hauing combd and trickt himselfe more curiously, then any time fortie winters before, comming where Zelmane was, he found her giuen ouer to her musical muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basilius, who retired himselfe behinde a tree, while she with a most sweete voice did vtter these passionate verses.
LOued I am, and yet complaine of Loue:
As louing not, accus'd in Loue I die.
When pittie most I craue, I cruell proue:
Still seeking Loue, loue found as much I flie.
Burnt in my selfe, I muse at others fire:
What I call wrong, I doo the same, and more:
Bard of my will, I haue beyond desire:
I waile for want, and yet am chokt with store.
This is thy worke, thou God for euer blinde:
Though thousands old, a Boy entit'led still.
Thus children doo the silly birds they finde,
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.
Yet thus much Loue, O Loue, I craue of thee:
Let me be lou'd, or els not loued bee.
Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till he perceaued she had fully ended her musick. But then loth to loose the pretious fruite of time, he presented himselfe vnto her, falling downe vpon both his knees, and holding vp his hands, as the old gouernesse of Danae is painted, when she sodainly saw the golden shoure, O heauenly woman, or earthly Goddesse (said he) let not my presence be odious vnto you, nor my humble suite seeme of small weight in your eares. Vouchsafe your eies to descend vpon this miserable old-man, whose life hath hitherto bene maintained but to serue as an encrease of your beautifull triumphs. You only haue ouerthrowne me, and in my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your owne worke to be despised of you: but looke vpon him with pittie, whose life serues for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a countenance ascanses she vnderstood him not) told him, It became her euill to suffer such excessiue reuerence of him, but that it worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duetie: that the opinion she had of his wisedome was such, as made her esteeme greatly of his words; but that the words themselues sounded so
•
as she could not imagine what they might intend. Intend? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intend, but a refreshing of my soule, and a swaging of my heat, and enioying those your excellencies, wherein my life is vpheld, and my death threatned? Zelmane lifting vp her face as if she had receaued a mortall iniurie of him. And is this the deuotion your ceremonies haue bene bent vnto? said she: Is it the disdaine of my estate, or the opinion of my lightnesse, that haue emboldned such base fancies towards me? enioying quoth you? now little ioy come to them that yeeld to such enioying. Poore Basilius was so appalled, that his legges bowed vnder him; his eyes lookt as though he would gladly hide himselfe; and his old blood going to his hart, a generall shaking all ouer his bodie possessed him. At length with a wanne mouth; he was about to giue a stammering answere, when it came into Zelmanes
head by this deuise to make her profite of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said vnto him. Your words (mightie Prince) were vnfit either for me to heare, or you to speake: but yet the large testimonie I see of your affection makes me willing to suppresse a great number of errors. Onely thus much I thinke good to say, that the same words in my Ladie Philocleas mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other bodie by) might haue had a better grace; and perchance haue found a gentler receipt.
Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and conceipt was by Loue
quickned) heard scarcely halfe her answere out, but that (as if speedie flight might saue his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speede his bodie would suffer him, towards his daughter Philoclea: whom he found at that time duetifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiouslie watching her; hauing left Mopsa to doo the like seruice to Pamela. Basilius foorthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the coniuring words which Desire could endite, and authoritie vtter) besought her she would preserue his life, in whom her life was begonne; she would saue his graye haires from rebuke, and his aged mind from despaire; that if she were not cloyed with his companie, and that she thought not the earth ouer-burdened with him, she would coole his fierie griefe, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoeuer he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirite depending of her: that if she continued cruell, he could no more sustaine his life, then the earth remaine fruitefull in the Sunnes continuall absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requite all his deserts: and that she needed not disdaine any seruice (though neuer so meane) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad then euer she had knowen her selfe, that she might by this occasion, enioy the priuate conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweete a feeling of vertue in her minde, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast ouer her faire thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed neither promise nor perswasion to her, to make her doo her vttermost for her fathers seruice. That for Zelmanes fauour, she would in all vertuous sort seeke it towards him: and that as she would not pearce further into his meaning, then himselfe should declare, so would she interprete all his doings to be accomplished in goodnes: and therefore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he would not impart it to her, who then should be forced to beginne (by true obedience) a shew of disobedience: rather perfourming his generall commandement, which had euer beene, to embrace vertue, then any new particular, sprong out of passion, and contrarie to the former. Basilius content to take that, since he could haue no more (thinking it a great point, if by her meanes, he could get but a more free accesse vnto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, and tooke her proffer thankfully, desiring only a speedie returne of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso streight behind her, like Alecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a doo, she being sharp-set vpon the fulfilling of a shrewde office, in ouer-looking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was commanded, and could not answere it to Gynecia, if she were any whit from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did euill to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stird a foote to trouble his daughter) gaue her a stop for that while.
So away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her trauayling mind. For well she sawe, her father was growen her aduerse partie, and yet her fortune such, as she must fauour her Riuall; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrarie meane helpe her.
But she walkt but a little on, before she saw Zelmane lying vpon a banke, with her face so bent ouer Ladon, that (her teares falling into the water) one might haue thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the vnder-running riuer. But by and by, with speech she made knowen, as well that she liued, as that she sorrowed. Faire streames (said she) that do vouchsafe in your cleerenes to represent vnto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my teares vnto you,
procure your stay a while with me, that I may beginne yet at last, to finde some thing that pities me: and that all things of comfort and pleasure doo not flie away from me. But if the violence of your spring commaund you to haste away, to pay your dueties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carrie with you these few wordes, and let the vttermost ends of the world know them. A loue more cleere then your selues, dedicated to a Loue (I feare) more cold then your selues, with the cleerenes layes a night of sorow vpon me; and with the coldnes enflames a world of fire within me. With that she tooke a willowe stick, and wrote in a sandie banke these fewe verses.
OVer these brookes trusting to ease mine eyes,
(Mine eyes euen great in labour with their teares)
I layde my face; my face wherein there lyes
Clusters of clowdes, which no Sunne euer cleares.
In watry glasse my watrie eyes I see:
Sorrowes ill easde, where sorrowes painted be.
My thoughts imprisonde in my secret woes,
With flamie breathes doo issue oft in sound:
The sound to this strange aier no sooner goes,
But that it dooth with Echoes force rebound.
And make me heare the plaints I would refraine:
Thus outward helps my inward griefe maintaine.
Now in this sand I would discharge my minde,
And cast from me part of my burdnous cares:
But in the sand my tales foretolde I finde,
And see therein how well the writer fares.
Since streame, aier, sand, mine eyes and eares conspire:
What hope to quench, where each thing blowes the fire?
And assoone she had written them (a new swarme of thoughts stinging her minde) she was ready with her foot to giue the new-borne letters both death and buriall. But Philoclea (whose delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her) gaue her self to be seen vnto her, with such a lightning of Beauty vpon Zelmane, that neither she could looke on, nor would looke off. At last Philoclea (hauing a little mused how to cut the threede euen, betweene her owne hopelesse affection, and her fathers vnbrideled hope) with eyes, cheekes, and lips, (wherof each sang their part, to make vp the harmonie of bashfulnesse) began to say, My Father to whom I owe my self, and therfore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habite to be the Armour of her boldnesse, giuing vp her life to the lips of Philoclea, and taking it againe by the sweetenesse of those kisses) humbly besought her to keepe her speach for a while within the Paradise of her minde. For well she knew her fathers errand, who should soone receiue a sufficient answere. But now she demaunded leaue not to loose this long sought-for commoditie of time, to ease her hart thus farre, that if in her agonies her destinie was to be condemned by Philocleas mouth, at lest Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yeelded to graunt her owne desire: and so making the greene banke
the situation, and the riuer the prospect of the most beautifull buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to beginne, though her thoughts already had runne to the ende, with a minde fearing the vnworthinesse of euery word that should be presented to her eares, at length brought it forth in this manner.
Most beloued Ladie, the incomparable excellencies of your selfe, (waited-on by the greatnesse of your estate) and the importaunce of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstaunces in the vttering my speech, both bolde, and fearefull. But the small opportunitie of enuious occasion (by the malicious eie hatefull Loue doth cast vpon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will eyther breake out in words, or breake my harte) compell me, not onely to embrace the smallest time, but to passe by the respects due vnto you, in respect of your poore caitifes life, who is now, or neuer to be preserued. I doo therefore vowe vnto you, hereafter neuer more to omit all dutifull forme: doo you onely now vouchsafe to heare the matter of a minde most perplexed. If euer the sound of Loue haue come to your eares, or if euer you haue vnderstood, what force it hath had to conquere the strongest hartes, and change the most setled estates: receiue here an example of those straunge Tragedies; one, that in himselfe conteineth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from hencefoorth beleeue that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a liuing image, and a present storie of what Loue can doo, when he is bent to ruine.
But alas, whether goest thou my tongue? or how doth my harte consent to aduenture the reuealing his neerest touching secrete? But peace Feare, thou commest too late, when already the harme is taken. Therefore I say againe, O onely Princesse, attend here a miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whome you onely haue brought to this game of Fortune, and vnused Metamorphosis: whome you onely haue made neglect his countrie, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. O most true presage: for these traytors, my eyes, putting me into a shippe of Desire, which dayly burneth, those eyes (I say) which betraied me, will neuer leaue till they haue drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Load-starre of comfort, be not the Rocke of shipwracke: you whome vertue hath made the Princesse of felicitie, be not the minister of ruine: you, whom my choyse hath made the Goddesse of my safetie, O let not, let not, from you be powred vpon me destruction. Your faire face hath manie tokens in it of amazement at my words: thinke then what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no words can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be waied in the ballances of Honour, and let Vertue hold them. For if the highest Loue in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beautie will not be without pittie. If otherwise you be (alas but let it neuer be so) resolued, yet shall not my death be comfortles, receiuing it by your sentence.
The ioy which wrought into Pygmalions minde, while he found his beloued image was softer, and warmer in his folded armes, till at length it accomplished his gladnes with a perfect womans shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was euen such, as by each degree of Zelmanes words creepingly entred into Philoclea:
till her pleasure was fully made vp with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did ouer-come Hope. Yet Doubt would faine haue playd his parte in her minde, and cald in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Loue streight stood vp and deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane
•
Besides, a certaine sparke of honour, which rose in her well-disposed minde, made her feare to be alone with him, with whome alone she desired to be (with all the other contradictions growing in those minds, which neither absolutely clime the rocke of Vertue, nor freely sinke into the sea of Vanitie) but that sparke soone gaue place, or at lest gaue no more light in her minde, then a candle doth in the Sunnes presence. But euen sicke with a surfet of ioy, and fearefull of she knewe not what (as he that newly findes huge treasures, doubts whether he sleepe or no; or like a fearefull Deere, which then lookes most about, when he comes to the best feede) with a shrugging kinde of tremor through all her principall partes, she gaue these affectionate words for answere. Alas, how painefull a thing it is to a deuided minde to make a well-ioyned answere? how hard it is to bring inward shame to outward confession? and what handsomnes trow you can be obserued in that speeche, which is made one knowes not to whom? Shall I say ô Zelmane? Alas your words be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your shew is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had either neuer bene, or euer bene Zelmane: you had either neuer attempted this change, set on with hope, or neuer discouered it, stopt with despaire. But I feare me, my behauiour ill gouerned, gaue you the first comfort: I feare me, my affection ill hid, hath giuen you this last assurance: I feare indeed, the weakenesse of my gouernment before, made you thinke such a maske would be gratefull vnto me: and my weaker gouernment since, makes you to pull off the visar. What shall I doo then? shall I seeke far-fetched inuentions? shall I labour to lay marble coulours ouer my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the purenes of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keepe the true simplicitie of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, ô Zelmane (for so I loue to call thee, since in that name my loue first began, and in the shade of that name my loue shall best lie hidden,) that euen while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fitter to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sory, or that my loue must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that wel be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the despaire thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the victorie: vse it with vertue. Thy vertue wan me; with vertue preserue me. Doost thou loue me? keepe me then still worthy to be beloued.
Then held she her tongue, and cast downe a self-accusing looke, finding, that in her selfe she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affection, a more quick opening of her minde, then she minded to haue done. But Pyrocles so caried vp with ioy, that he did not enuy the Gods felicitie, presented her with some iewels of right princely value, as some little tokens of his loue, and qualitie: and withall shewed her letters from his father King Euarchus, vnto him, which euen in the Sea had amongst his iewels bene preserued. But little needed those proofes to one, who would haue fallen out with herselfe, rather then make any contrarie coniectures to
Zelmane speeches; so that with such imbracements, as it seemed their soules desired to meete, and their harts to kisse, as their mouthes did: which faine Pyrocles would haue sealed with the chiefe armes of his desire, but Philoclea commaunded
the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of mariage.
And then at Philocleas entreaty, who was willing to purloine all occasions of remayning with Zelmane, she told her the storie of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona, for the rest she had already vnderstood of her sister. For (saide she) I haue vnderstood, how you first in the companie of your Noble cousin Musidorus
parted from Thessalia, and of diuers aduentures, which with no more daunger then glory you passed through, till your comming to the succour of the Queene Erona; and the ende of that warre (you might perceiue by my selfe) I had vnderstood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, vntill you came, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poore me, that I know not, the fame thereof hauing rather shewed it by pieces; then deliuered any full forme of it. Therefore, deere Pyrocles (for what can mine eares be so sweetly fed with as to heare you of you) be liberall vnto me of those things which haue made you indeede pretious to the worlde, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I haue you here out of them, euen the remembrance of them is pleasaunt.
Pyrocles easily perceiued she was content with kindnesse, to put off occasion of further kindnesse; wherein Loue shewed himselfe a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for feare of offending. But rather Loue prooued himselfe valiant, that durst with the sworde of reuerent dutie gaine-stand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knewe this discourse was to entertaine him from a more streight parley, yet he durst not but kisse his rod, and gladly make much of that entertainement which she allotted vnto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastning his brest for too much desiring, Sweete Princesse of my life (said he) what Trophees, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histories might euer make my fame yeeld so sweete a Musicke to my eares, as that it pleaseth you to lend your minde to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, onely therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to thinke it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to giue it the hearing. Therefore (onely height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and setling Erona in her gouernment; for setled we left her, howsoeuer since (as I perceiued by your speech the last day) the vngratefull treason of her ill-chosen husband ouerthrew her (a thing in trueth neuer till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could thinke without hauing such a minde as Antiphilus, that so great a beautie as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not haue held his affection? so great goodnes could not haue bound gratefulnesse? and so high aduancement could not haue satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickednesse may well be compared to a bottomlesse pit, into which it is farre easier to keepe ones selfe from falling, then being fallen, to giue ones selfe any stay from falling infinitely. But for my Cosen, and me, vpon this cause we parted from Erona.
Euardes (the braue and mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the combat for Erona) had three Nephewes, sonnes to a sister of his; all three set among the foremost rancks of Fame for great minds to attempt, and great force to perfourme what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom all men would willingly haue yeelded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to bestow it vpon himselfe, before any could giue it. For of so vnsupportable a pride he was, that where his deeds might wel stir enuie, his demeanor
did rather breed disdaine. And if it bee true that the Gyants euer made war against heauen, he had bene a fit ensigne-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing vniust, while his liking was his iustice. Now he in these wars flatly refused his aid; because he could not brooke, that the worthy Prince Plangus was by his cosen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword and speare in iudging of desert, how-much he esteemed himselfe before Plangus in that, so much would he haue had his allowance in his seruice.
But now that he vnderstood that his vncle was slaine by me, I think rather scorne that any should kil his vncle, then any kindnesse (an vn-vsed guest to an arrogant soule) made him seeke his reuenge; I must confesse in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge vnto me to meete him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdome of Lycia; where he would proue vpon me, that I had by some trecherie ouercome his vncle, whom els many hundreds such as I, could not haue withstood. Youth and successe made mee willing enough to accept any such bargaine; especially, because I had heard that your cosen Amphialus (who for some yeares hath vniuersally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had diuers times fought with him, and neuer bene able to master him; but so had left him, that euery man thought Anaxius in that one vertue of curtesie far short of him, in all other his match; Anaxius still deeming himselfe for his superiour. Therefore to him I would goe, and I would needs goe alone, because so I vnderstood for certaine, he was; and (I must confesse) desirous to do something without the company of the incomparable Prince Musidorus, because in my hart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in my selfe, whatsoeuer before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as receiued, what euer there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giuing mee in him so liuely an Image of vertue, as ignorance could not cast such mist ouer mine eyes, as not to see, and to loue it, and all with such deare friendship and care, as (ô heauen) how can my life euer requite vnto him? which made me indeed finde in my selfe such a kind of depending vpon him, as without him I found a weakenesse, and a mistrustfulnes of my selfe, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I mist him. Which humour perceiuing to ouer-rule me, I straue against it; not that I was vnwilling to depend vpon him in iudgement, but by weakenesse I would not; which though it held me to him, made me vnworthy of him. Therefore I desired his leaue, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his owne tendernesse; and so priuately went from him, hee determining (as after I knew) in secret maner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meete, to preuent any foule play that might be offered vnto me. Full loth was Erona to let vs depart from her, (as it were) forefeeling the harmes which after fel to her. But I, (ridde fully from those combers of kindnesse, and halfe a dayes iorney in my way toward Anaxius) met an aduēture, which (though in it self of smal importance) I wil tel you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great comber and danger, as lightly any might escape.
As I past through a Laund (ech side whereof was so bordred both with high tymber trees, and copses of farre more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitarie minde to looke for no other companions then the wild burgesses of the forrest) I heard certaine cries, which comming by pawses to mine eares from within
the wood of the right hand, made mee well assured by the greatnesse of the crie, it was the voice of a man, though it were a verie vnmanlike voice, so to crie. But making mine eare my guide, I left not many trees behinde me, before I sawe at the bottome of one of them a gentle-man bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tomble and tosse, but neither runne nor resist he coulde. Vpon him (like so many Eagles vpon an Oxe) were nine Gentle-women; truely such, as one might wel enough say, they were hansome. Eche of them held bodkins in their handes, wherewith they continually pricked him, hauing bene before-hand vnarmed of any defence from the wast vpward, but onely of his shirte: so as the poore man wept and bled, cried and praied, while they sported themselues in his paine, and delighted in his praiers, as the argumentes of their victorie.
I was moued to compassion, and so much the more that hee straight cald to me for succour, desiring me at lest to kill him, to deliuer him from those tormenters. But before my-selfe could resolue, much lesse any other tell what I would resolue, there came in cholericke hast towards me about seuen or eight knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, & not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due reuenge, but with so ouer-mastring a maner of pride, as truly my heart could not brooke it: and therefore (answering them, that howe I woulde haue defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combat first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had lesse good maners) ioyntly. But such was the ende of it, that I kept the fielde with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angrie victorie would bring forth) ran all away; sauing onely one; who was so flesht in malice, that neyther during, nor after the fight, she gaue anie truce to her crueltie, but still vsed the little instrument of her great spight, to the well-witnest paine of the impatient patient: and was now about to put out his eyes, which all this while were spared, because they should doe him the discomfort of seeing who preuayled ouer him. When I came in, and after much adoe, brought her to some conference, (for sometime it was before she would harken, more before she would speake; and most, before shee would in her speeche leaue off the sharpe remembrance of her bodkin) but at length when I puld off my head-peece, and humbled entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruell; out of breath more with choller (which increased in his owne exercise) then with the paine she tooke, much to this purpose she gaue her griefe vnto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbeare any time the executing of my iust reuenge vpon t
•
is naughtie creature, a man in nothing, but in deceiuing women; But because I see you are yoong, and like enough to haue the power (if you would haue the mind) to do much more mischief, then he, I am content vpō this bad subiect to read a lecture to your vertue.
This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confesse is noble (but what is that to him, if it shalbe a staine to his dead auncestors to haue left such an offspring?) in shape as you see not vncomely (indeed the fit maske of his disguised falshood) in conuersation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merie simplicitie, his wordes of heartie companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not thinke so staied, as to thinke mischieuously: delighted in all such things, which by imparting the delight to thers, makes the vser therof welcome; as, Musick, Daunsing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, and such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keepe him at armes end, need neuer wish a better companion. But vnder
these qualities lies such a poysonous addar as I wil tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creepes, nay (to say truely) he flies so into the fauour of poore sillie womē, that I would be too much ashamed to confesse, if I had not reuenge in my hande, as well as shame in my cheekes. For his hart being wholy delighted in deceiuing vs, we could neuer be warned, but rather one bird caught, serued for a stale to bring in more. For the more he gat, the more still he shewed, that he (as it were) gaue away to his new mistresse, when hee betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flatterie, the readines of his teares, the infinitenes of his vowes, were but among the weakest threedes of his nette. But the stirring our owne passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himselfe Lord of our forces; there lay his Masters part of cunning, making vs now iealous, now enuious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giuing one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subiect to her; now with an estranged looke, making her feare the losse of that minde. which indeede could neuer be had: neuer ceasing humblenes and diligence, till he had imbarked vs in some such disaduantage, as wee could not returne dryshod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a craftie tyrant. For so would hee vse his imperiousnes, that we had a delightfull feare & an awe which made vs loath to lose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I thinke of it) I must confesse, euen in the greatest tempest of my iudgement was I neuer driuen to thinke him excellent, and yet so could set my minde, both to get and keepe him, as though therein had laien my felicitie: like them I haue seene play at the ball, growe extremely earnest, who should haue the ball, and yet euery one knew it was but a ball. But in end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that wee had ether our hartes broken with sorrow, or our estates spoyled with being at his direction, or our honours for euer lost, partly by her owne faults, but principally by his faultie vsing of our faults. For neuer was there man that could with more scornefull eyes beholde her, at whose feete he had lately laine, nor with a more vnmanlike brauerie vse his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I maruell his soule findes not some way to kill his bodie, whereto it had beene so long vnited. For so hath he dealt with vs (vnhappie fooles,) as we could neuer tell, whether hee made greater haste after he once liked, to enioy, or after he once enioyed, to forsake. But making a glorie of his owne shame, it delighted him to bee challenged of vnkindenesse: it was a triumph vnto him to haue his mercie called for: and hee thought the fresh colours of his beautie were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruines of his Louers: yet so farre had we engaged our selues, (vnfortunate soules) that we listed not complaine, since our complaints could not but carrie the greatest accusation to our selues. But euerie of vs (each for her selfe,) laboured all meanes how to recouer him, while he rather daily sent vs companions of our deceipt, then euer returned in any sound and faithfull manner. Till at length he concluded all his wronges with betrothing himselfe to one (I must confesse) worthie to be liked, if any worthinesse might excuse so vnworthie a changeablenesse; leauing vs nothing but remorse for what was past, and dispaire of what might followe. Then in deede the common iniurie made vs all ioyne in fellowshipp, who till that time, had employed our endeuours one against the other. For wee thought nothing was a more condemning of vs, then the iustifiing of his loue to her by mariage: then Despaire made Feare valiant, and Reuenge gaue Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you saw here)
deuised how to get him among vs alone: which hee (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easily gaue vs opportunitie to do.
And a man may see, euen in this, how soone Rulers grow proud, and in theyr pride foolish: he came with such an authoritie among vs, as if the Planets had done inough for vs, that by vs once he had beene delighted. And when wee began in courteous maner, one after the other, to lay his vnkindnes vnto him, he seeing himselfe confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to deniall, but to iustisie his cruell falshood, and al with such iestes, and disdainfull passages, that if the iniurie coulde not bee made greater, yet were our conceites made the apter to apprehend it.
Among other of his answeres (forsooth) I shall neuer forget, howe hee woulde proue it was no inconstancie to chaunge from one loue to another, but a great constancie; and contrarie, that which we call constancie, to be most chaungeable. For (said he) I euer loued my delight, and delighted alwaies in what was Louely: and where-soeuer I found occasion to obtaine that, I constantly followed it. But these constant fooles you speake of, though their Mistres growe by sicknesse foule, or by fortune miserable, yet still will loue her, and so commit the absurdest inconstancie that may be, in changing their loue from fairenesse to foulenesse, and from loulinesse to his contrarie; like one not content to leaue a friend, but will streight giue ouer himselfe to his mortall enemie: where I (whome you call inconstant) am euer constant; to Beautie, in others; and Delight in my selfe. And so in this iolly scoffing brauerie he went ouer vs all, saying, He left one, because she was ouerwaiward: another, because she was too soone wonne: a third, because she was not merrie inough: a fourth, because she was ouer-gamesome: the fifth, because shee was growne with griefe subiect to sicknesse: the sixt because she was so foolish, as to be ielous of him: the seuenth, because shee had refused to carrie a letter for him, to another that he loued: the eight, because she was not secret, the ninth, because she was not liberall: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeede haue mette with a false AEneas) to me, I say, (ô the vngratefull villanie) he could finde no other fault to obiect, but that (perdie) he met with many fayrer.
But when he had thus plaide the carelesse Prince, we (hauing those seruants of ours in readines, whom you lately so manfully ouercame) laide holde of him; beginning at first but that trifling reuenge, in which you foūd vs busie; but meaning afterwardes to haue mangled him so, as should haue lost his credit for euer abusing more. but as you haue made my fellowes flie away, so for my part the greatnesse of his wrong ouershadowes in my iudgement the greatnesse of any daunger. For was it not inough for him, to haue deceiued me, and through the deceipt abused mee, and after the abuse forsaken me, but that hee must now, of all the company, and before all the company lay want of beautie to my charge? Many fairer? I trow euen in your iudgement, Sir, (if your eies do not beguile me) not many fairer; and I know (whosoeuer saies the contrary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receiue this reproch, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore how-soeuer my fellowes pardon his iniuries, for my parte I will euer remember, and remember to reuenge this scorne of all scornes. With that she to him afresh; and surely would haue put out his eies (who lay mute for shame, if hee did not sometimes crie for feare) if I had not lept from my horse, and mingling
force with intreaty, staied her furie.
But, while I was perswading her to meekenes, comes a number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill that woman, that had thus betraied and disgraced him. But then I was faine to forsake the ensigne; vnder which I had before serued, and to spend my vttermost force in the protecting of the Ladie; which so well preuailed for her, that in ende there was a faithfull peace promised of all sids. And so I leauing her in a place of securitie (as she thought) went on my iourney towards Anaxius, for whom I was faine to stay two daies in the apointed place, he disdaining to waite for me, till he was sure I were there.
I did patientlie abide his angrie pleasure, till about that space of tyme he came (indeede, according to promise) alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to clime ouer any daunger. And assoone as euer he came neere me, in fit distaunce for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran vpon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, hauing kept my selfe ready for him, because I had vnderstood, that he obserued few complements in matter of armes, but such as a proud anger did indit
•
vnto him. And so putting our horses into a full careere, we hit each other vpon the head with our Launces: I think he felte my blowe, for my parte (I must confesse) I neuer receiued the like: but I thinke though my senses were astonished, my mind forced them to quicken themselues, because I had learned of him, how little fauour he is woont to show in any matter of aduantage. And indeede hee was turned, and comming vpon me with his sworde drawne, both our staues hauing beene broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answere him, that truely I knowe not who gaue the first blowe. But whosoeuer gaue the first, was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed (excellentest Ladie) I must say truly, for a time it was well fought betweene vs; he vndoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftinesse) but as by the occasion of the combate, winning and loosing ground, we chaunged places, his horse happened to come vpon the point of the brokē speare, which fallen to the ground chaunced to stand vpward so as it lighting vpon his hart, the horse died. He driuen to dismount, threatned, if I did not the like, to do as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whether for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the victorie, I descended. So began our foote-fight in such sort that we were well entred to bloud of both sides, when there comes by, that vnconstant Pamphilus, whom I had deliuered (easie to be knowne, for he was bare faced) with a dosen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Ladie, who had most sharpely punished him) riding vpon a palfery, he following her with most vnmanlike crueltie; beating her with wandes he had in his hande, she crying for sense of paine, or hope of succour: which was so pittifull a sight vnto me, that it mooued me to require Anaxius
to deferre our combate, till an other day, and now to performe the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Ladie. But hee that disdaines to obey any thing but his passion (which hee cals his minde) bad mee leaue of that thought; but when hee had killed mee, hee woulde then (perhaps) go too her succour. But I well finding the fight would bee long betweene vs (longing in my hart too deliuer the poore Dido) giuing him so great a blowe, as somwhat staied him, to terme it a right) I flatly ran away from him towarde my horse, who trotting after the companie, in in mine armour I was put to some paine, but that vse made mee nimble vnto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed mee: but his prowde harte did so dis
〈1 page missing〉
〈1 page missing〉
times bitterlye warne his daughter of bringing such costlye mates vnder his roofe: which she grieuing at, desired much to know my name, I thinke partlye of kindnesse to remember who had done some-thing for her, and partlye because she assured her selfe I was such a one as would make enen his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demaunded my name, and estate, with such earnestnesse, that I whom Loue had not as then so robbed me of my selfe, as to be another then I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more gladde then her father, as I might well perceaue by some ill fauoured cheerefulnesse, which then first began to wrinckle it selfe in his face.
But the causes of their ioyes were farre different; for as the shepheard and the butcher both may looke vpon one sheepe with pleasing conceipts, but the shepheard with minde to profit himselfe by preseruing, the butcher with killing him: So she reioyced to finde that mine own benefits had tyed me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatnesse, and louingly reioyced: but his ioye grew, (as I to my danger after perceiued) by the occasion of the Queene Artaxias setting my head to sale, for hauing slaine her brother Tiridates; which being the summe of an hundreth thousand crownes (to whosoeuer brought me aliue into her hands) that olde wretch, (who had ouer-liued all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet aboue all things louing money, for monies owne sake determined to betray me, so well deseruing of him to haue that which he was determined neuer to vse. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolued to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captaine of a Garrison neere by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the Captaines humor to delight so in riotous spending as he cared not how he came by the meanes to maintaine it) doubted not that to be halfe with him in the gaine, he would playe his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me the morning, the olde caitiffe was growne so ceremonious, as he would needs accompanie me some myles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apte to suspect; since a churles curtesie rarely comes but either for gaine, or falshood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he came out with all his clownes, horst vpon such cart-iades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with my selfe, if that were thrift, I wisht none of my freends or subiects euer to thriue. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a farre better minde) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.
And so we went on togither: he so old in wickednes, that he could looke me in the face, and freely talke with me, whose life he had alreadie contracted for: till comming into the falling of a way which ledde vs into a place, of each-side whereof men might easilye keepe themselues vndiscouered, I was encompassed sodainly by a great troupe of enemies both of horse and foote, who willed me to yeelde my selfe to the Queene Artaxia. But they could not haue vsed worse eloquence to haue perswaded my yeelding, then that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bare me. And therefore making necessitie and iustice my best sword and shielde, I vsed the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little ease of a good number, who trusting to their number more then to their
valure, and valewing money higher then equitie, felt, that guiltlesnesse is not alwayes with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himselfe, yet so guilding his wicked conceipts with his hope of gaine, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his pray.
But I was growne so wearie, that I supported my selfe more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musidorous came to my succour; who hauing followed my trace as well as he could, after he found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggards Castell, where he found all burnd and spoiled by the countrie people, who bare mortall hatred to that couetous man, and now tooke the time, when the castell was left almost without garde, to come in, and leaue monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeache, came vpon the spurre after me (because with one voice many tolde him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant vnto me) and in this extremitie found me. But when I saw that Cosen of mine, me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victorie. For who can feare that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not straunger for the number then for the straunge blowes wherwith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well delight me to speak off, but I should so holde you too long in euery particular. But in trueth, there if euer, and euer, if euer any man, did Musidorus shew himselfe second to none in able valour.
Yet what the vnmeasurable excesse of their number woulde haue done in the ende I knowe not, but the triall thereof was cutte off by the chaunceable comming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of the worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you sometimes to mention: who, (not yeelding ouer to olde age his countrie delights, especially of hauking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this iniurie offred vnto vs: and hauing great numbers of Courtiers waiting vpon him, was straight known by the souldiers that assaulted vs, to be their King, and so most of them with-drew themselues.
He by his authoritie knowing of the Captaines owne constrained confession what was the motiue of this mischieuous practise; misliking much such violence should be offred in his countrie to men of our ranke? but chiefelye disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confesse wrongfully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his sonne Plangus
against him, caused the Captaines head presently to be striken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truely for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither th
•
death of his daughter, who (alas poore Gentlewoman was by chaunce slaine among his clownes, while she ouerboldelye for her weake sex sought to hold them from me, nor yet his own shamefull end was so much in his mouth as he was ledde to execution, as the losse of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter then teares of the hearers, he made pittifull exclamations vpon.
This iustice thus done, and we deliuered, the King indeed in royall sorte inuited vs to his Court, not farre thence: in all pointes entertaining vs so, as truelye I must euer acknowledge a beholdingnes vnto him: although the streame of it fel out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some daies being there (curing our selues of
such wounds as we had receiued, while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learne thing, but that he was goneno out of the countrie, boasting in euerye place how he had made me run away) we were brought to receaue the fauour of acquaintance with this Queene Andromana, whom the Princesse Pamela did in so liuelye colours describe the last day, as still me thinkes the figure thereof possesseth mine eyes confirmed by the knowledge my selfe had.
And therefore I shall neede the lesse to make you know what kinde of woman she was; but this onely, that first with the raines of affection, and after with the very vse of directing, she had made her selfe so absolute a maister of her husbands minde, that a while he would not, and after, he could not tell how to gouern without being gouerned by her: but finding an ease in not vnderstanding, let loose his thoughts wholy to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royall affaires. A thing that may luckely fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroicall minded Lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdome, nor followed by Fortune, but therby was slipt insensiblie into such an estate, that he liued at her vndiscreete discretion: all his subiectes hauing by some yeares learned so to hope for good, and feare of harm, onely from her, that it should haue needed a stronger vertue then his, to haue vnwound so deeply an entred vice. So that either not striuing (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not striue) he scarcely knew what was done in his owne chamber, but as it pleased her Instruments to frame the relation.
Now we being brought knowen vnto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner then our selues expected) she continually almost haunted vs, till (and it was not long a dooing) we discouered a most violent bent of affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an euill minde in authoritie, dooth not onely follow the sway of the desires already within it, but frames to it selfe new desires, not before thought of. For, with equall ardour she affected vs both: & so did her greatnes disdaine shamefastnes, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (hauing many times torne the vaile of modestie) it seemed, for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy: which often she had vsed to her husbands shame, filling all mens eares (but his) with his reproch; while he hoodwinkt with kindenes) lest of all men knew who strake him. But her first degree was, by setting forth her beauties, (truely in nature not to be misliked, but as much aduanced to the eye, as abased to the iudgement by art) thereby to bring vs (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her baite. And thereto had she that scutchion of her desires supported by certaine badly-diligent ministers, who often cloyed our eares with her praises, and would needs teach vs a way of felicitie by seeking her fauour. But when she found, that we were as deafe to thē as dumb to her; thē she lifted no lōger stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but directly entred vpon thē; making her self an impudent suter, authorizing her selfe very much with making vs see that all fauor and power in that realm, so depēded vpon her, that now (being in her hands) we were ether to keep, or lose our liberty, at her discretion; which yet a while she so tempted, as that we might rather suspect, thē she threaten. But when our woundes grew so, as that they gaue vs leaue to trauell, and that she found we were purposed to vse all meanes we could to depart thence, she (with more and more importunatenes) craued, which in all good maners was either of vs to be desired, or not granted. Truely (most faire and euerye
way excellēt Lady) you would haue wōdred to haue seen, how before vs she would confes the contention in her own mind between that louely (indeed most louelye) broūnes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of mine, which she (in the deceiuable stile of affection) would intitle beautifull: how her eyes wandred like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her words would begin half of the sentēce to Musidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friendship betweene vs) to desire either of vs to be a mediator to the other; as if we should haue played one request at Tennis between vs: and often wishing that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendship might meet; and be the knot which might tie our harts together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set before you (most deare Lady) because by the foile therof, you may see the noblenes of my desire to you, and the warrantablenes of your fauour to me.
At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (said Pyrocles) when she perceiued no hope by suite to preuaile, then (perswaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to doo any thing) she founde meanes to haue vs accused to the King, as though we went about some practise to ouerthrowe him in his owne estate. Which because of the straunge successes we had had in the Kingdomes of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not vnlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that came before him) was disciplined to leaue the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who foorthwith caused vs to be put in prison, hauing (while we slept) depriued vs of our armes: a prison, indeede iniurious, because a prison, but els well testifying affection because in all respects as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeede so placed, as she might at all houres (not seene by many, though she cared not much how many had seen her) come vnto vs. Then fell she to sause her desires with threatnings, so that we were in a great perplexitie, restrained to so vnworthie a bondage, and yet restrained by loue, which I (I cannot tell how (in noble mindes, by a certain duety, claimes an answering. And how much that loue might moue vs, so much, and more that faultines of her minde remoued vs; her beauty being balanced by her shamelesnes. But that which did (as it were) tie vs in captiuitie, was, that to graunt, had ben wickedly iniurious to him, that had saued our liues: and to accuse a Lady that loued vs, of her loue vnto vs, we esteemed almost as dishonorable: and but by one of those waies we sawe no likelyhood of going out of that place, where the words would be iniurious to your eares, which should expres the manner of her suite: while yet many times earnestnes died her cheekes with the colour of shamefastnes; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the down-castlooke of modestie. But we in the mean time farre from louing her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompence her husbandes sauing of our liues; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him send vs worde, that vpon our liues, we should doo whatsoeuer she commaunded vs: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures were directed to the preseruation of his estate. But when that made vs rather pittie, then obey his folly, then fell she to seruile entreating vs, as though force could haue bene the schoole of Loue, or that an honest courage would not rather striue against, then yeeld to iniurie. All which yet could not make vs accuse her, though it made vs almost pine away for spight, to loose any of our time in so troublesome an idlenesse.
But while we were thus full of wearinesse of what was past, and doubt of what
was to follow, Loue (that I thinke in the course of my life hath a spot sometimes to poyson me with roses, sometimes to heale me with wormewood) brought forth a remedy vnto vs: which though it helped me out of that distres, alas the cō
clusion was such, as I must euer while I liue, think it worse then a wracke, so to haue bene preserued. This King by this Queene had a sonne of tender age, but of great expectation, brought vp in the hope of themselues, and already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successour of his fathers crowne: wherof he was as worthy, considering his partes, as vnworthie, in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most noble Plangus: whose great desertes now either forgotten, or vngratefully remembred, all men set their sayles with the fauourable winde, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchaunce not in their harts, but surely not in their mouths, now giuing Plangus (who some yeares before was their only champion) the poore comfort of calamitie, pittie. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection loue a yong Ladye, brought vp in his fathers court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischieuouslie vnhappie Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I haue, and sometimes must make, but neuer honorable mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate changeablenes of his estate; he by the motherside being halfe brother to this Queene Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Loue (alas) doth not alwaies reflect it selfe, so fell it out that this Zelmane,
(though truely reason there was enough to loue Palladius) yet could not euer perswade her harte to yeelde thereunto: with that paine to Palladius, as they feele, that feele an vnloued loue. Yet louing indeed, and therefore constant, hee vsed still the intercession of diligence and faith, euer hoping, because he would not put him selfe into that hell, to be hopelesse: vntill the time of our being come, and captiued there, brought foorth this ende, which truely deserues of me a further degree of sorrow then teares.
Such was therein my ill destinie, that this young Ladye Zelmane (like some vnwisely liberall, that more delight to giue presentes, then pay debtes) she chose (alas for the pittie) rather to bestowe her loue (so much vndeserued, as not desired) vpon me, then to recompence him, whose loue (besides many other thinges) might seeme (euen in the court of Honour) iustly to claime it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it came to passe (that as nothing doth more naturally follow his cause, then care to preserue, and benefite doth follow vnfained affection) she felt with me, what I felt of my captiuitie, and streight laboured to redresse my paine, which was her paine: which she could do by no better meanes, then by vsing the helpe therein of Palladius: who (true Louer) considering what, and not why, in all her commaundements; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which shee intituled compassion,) immediatly obeyed to imploye his vttermost credite to relieue vs: which though has great, as a beloued son with a mother, faultye otherwise, but not hard-harted toward him, yet it could not preuaile to procure vs libertie. Wherefore he sought to haue that by practise, which he could not by praier. And so being allowed often to visite vs (for indeede our restraints were more, or lesse, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission) he vsed the opportunitie of a fit time thus to deliuer vs.
The time of the marrying that Queene was euery year, by the extreme loue of her husband, and the seruiceable loue of the Courtiers, made notable by some publike
honours, which did (as it were) proclaime to the worlde, how deare shee was to that people. Among other, none was either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in it selfe, then iusts, both with sword & launce, mainteined for a seuen-night together: wherein that Nation doth so excel, both for comelines and hablenes, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarilye come, some to striue, some to learne, some to behold.
This day it happened that diuers famous Knights came thither from the Court of Helen, Queene of Corinth, a Lady, whome fame at that time was so desirous to honor, that she borrowed all mens mouthes to ioyne with the sounde of her Trumpet. For as her beautie hath wonne the prize from all women, that stande in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceipte of comparison) so hath her gouernment bene such as hath bene no lesse beautifull to mens iudgementes, then her beautie to the eiesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a yong woman, a faire woman, to gouern a people, in nature mutinously proud, and alwaies before so vsed to hard gouernours, as they knew not how to obey without the sworde were drawne. Yet could she for some yeares, so carry her selfe among them, that they found cause in the delicacie of her sex, of admiration, not of contempt: & which was notable, euen in the time that many countries about her were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought stil would conclude there) yet so handled she the matter, that the threatens euer smarted in the threatners; she vsing so strange, and yet so well-succeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her Ladies by Loue, chast. For by cōtinuall martiall exercises without bloud, she made them perfect in that bloudy art. Her sportes were such as carried riches of Knowledge vpon the stream of Delight: and such the behauiour both of her selfe and her Ladies, as builded their chastitie not vpon waiwardnes, but choice of worthines: So as it seemed, that court to haue bene the mariage place of Loue & Vertue, and that herself was a Diana apparrelled in the garmēts of Venus. And this which Fame only deliuered vnto me, (for yet I haue neuer seene her) I am the willinger to speake of to you, who (I know) know her better, being your neer neighbor, because you may see by her example (in her self wise, and of others beloued) that neither folly is the cause of vehement loue, nor reproch the effect. For neuer (I think) was there any woman, that with more vnremoueable determination gaue her selfe to the coūcell of loue, after she had once set before her minde the worthines of your cosin Amphialus; and yet is nether her wisedome doubted of, nor honor blemished. For (O God) what doth better become wisedome, then to discerne what is worthy the louing? what more agreable to goodnes, thē to loue it so discerned? and what to greatnes of hart, then to be constant in it once loued? But at that time, that loue of hers was not so publikely known, as the death of Philoxenus and search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to haue such leasure to send thither diuerse choise knights of her court, because they might bring her, at lest the knowledge, perchaūce the honor of, that triumph. Wherin so they behaued thēselues as for three daies they carried the prize; which being come from so far a place to disgrace her seruaunts, Palladius (who himselfe had neuer vsed armes) perswaded the Queene Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer vs two to haue our horse and armour, that he with vs might vndertake the recouerie of their lost honour: which she grā
ted; taking our oath to goe no further then her sonne, nor euer to abandon
him. Which she did not more for sauing him, then keeping vs: and yet not satisfied with our oth, appointed a band of horsemen to haue eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratifie the young Prince, who (we saw) loued vs. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we came into the field: where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoone they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoone in a broad field, in manner of a battell, till either the strangers, or that countrie Knights wan the field.
The first that ran was a braue Knight, whose deuise was to come in, all chayned with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was
Against him came forth an Iberian, whose manner of entring was, with Bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepheards boy before him for a Page, and by him a dozen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuffe, who caried his Launces, which though strong to giue a launcely blow indeede, yet so were they couloured with hooks neere the mourn, that they pretilye represented shephooks. His own furniture was drest ouer with wooll, so enriched with Iewels artificially placed, that one would haue thought it a mariage betweene the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a Sheepe marked with pitch, with this woord Spotted to be knowne. And because I may tell you out his conceipt (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windowes, among whom there was one (they say) that was the Star, whereby his course was onely directed. The Shepherds attending vpon PHILISIDES went among them, and sang an eclogue; one of them answering another, while the other shepherds pulling out recorders (which possest the place of pipes) accorded their musicke to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I onely remember sixe verses, while hauing questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards sodaine growing a man of armes, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.
ME thought some staues he mist: if so, not much amisse:
For where he most would hit, he euer yet did misse.
Once said he brake a crosse; full well it so might be:
For neuer was there man more crossely crost then he.
But most cryed, O well broke: O foole full gaily blest:
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.
Thus I haue digrest, because his maner liked me well: But when he began to run against LElius,, it had neere growne (though great loue had euer bene betwixt them) to a quarell. For Philisides breaking his staues with great commendation, Lelius (who was knowne to be second to none in the perfection of that art) ranne euer ouer his head, but so finely to the skilfull eyes, that one might wel see he shewed more knowledge in missing, then others did in hitting. For with so gallant a grace his staffe came swimming close ouer the crest of the Helmet as if he would represent the kisse, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moued with it, while he thought Lelius would shew a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfie him, because he was his friend (made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tyed by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellencye, and whose iniuries he could neuer otherwise returne, then honors.
But so by Lelius willing-missing was the oddes of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of a Knight, though fostred so by the Muses, as many times the very rusticke people left both their delights and profites to harken to his songs, yet could he so well performe all armed sports, as if he had neuer had any other pen, then a Launce in his hand. He came in like a wilde man; but such a wildenes, as shewed his eye-sight had tamed him, full of withered leaues, which though they fell not, still threatned falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to goe in one circle; with this word, Data fata sequutus. But after him the Corinthian knights absolutely preuailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth, whose deuise was to come without any deuise, all in white like a new Knight, as indeede he was; but so new, as his newnes shamed most of the others long exercise. Then another from whose tent I remember a birde was made flie, With such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a liue bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure liuely representing the Phoenix: the fire tooke so artificially, as it consumed the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frosen Knight, frosen in despaire; but his armor so naturallye representing Ice, and all his furniture so liuely answering therto, as yet did I neuer see any thing that pleased me better.
But the delight of those pleasing sightes, haue carried me too farre into an vnnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Ladye) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the daies before) had the better; Palladius neither suffring vs, nor himself to take in hand the partie til the after noone; when we were to fight in troupes, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpenesse of the weapons was taken away. But in the triall Pall
•
dius (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himselfe truelye behauing him selfe nothing like a beginner, brought the honor to rest it selfe that night on the Iberian side: and the next day, both morning, and after-noone being kept by our party, He (that sawe the time fitte for the deliuerie he intended, called vnto vs to follow him; which we both bound by oth, and willing by good-will, obeyed: and so the gard not daring to interrupt vs (he commaunding passage) we went after him vpon the spur to a little house in a forrest neere by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till wee might goe further from his mothers fury, wherat he shas no lesse angry, and ashamed, then desirous to obay Zelmane.
But his mother (as I learned since) vnderstanding by the gard her sonnes conuaying vs away (forgetting her greatnes, and resining modestye to more quiet thoughts (flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she her-selfe would follow vs. But what she did (being rather with vehemencie of passion, then conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her own confusion hinder her own desires. For so impatiently she commāded, as a good while no body knew what she cōmanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be alredye past the confines of her kingdome before she ouertook vs: and ouertake vs she did in the Kingdome of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or dāger of hauing entred into anothers dominions: but (hauing with her about a threescore hors-men) streight cōmanded to take vs aliue, and not to regard her sonnes threatening therin: which they attempted to doo, first by speach, and then by force. But neither liking their eloquēce, nor fearing their might, we esteemed fewe swordes in a iust defence, able to resist many
vniust assaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating downe all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to doo to ouercome weake wrong.
And now had the victorie in effect without bloud, when Palladius (heated with the fight, and angrie with his mothers fault) so pursued our assaylers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our comming bene a speciall minion of Andromanas, and hated vs for hauing dispossest him of her hart) taking him to be one of vs, with a traiterous blow slew his young Prince: who falling downe before our eyes, whom he specially had deliuered, iudge (sweetest Lady) whether anger might not be called iustice in such a case: once, so it wrought in vs, that many of his subiects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.
All this while disdaine, strengthened by the furie of a furious loue, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: and whē she saw vs light down, to see what help we might doo to the helplesse Palladius, she came running madly vnto vs, then no lesse threatning, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceiued it was her onely sonne that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the vse of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then onely did misfortune lay his owne ouglinesse vpon her fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especiallye, finding in vs rather detestation then pittie, (considering the losse of that young Prince) and resolution presentlye to departe, which still she laboured to stay. But depriued of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ranne to her sonnes dagger, and before we were aware of it (who else would haue stayed it) strake her selfe a mortall wound. But then her loue, though not her person, awaked pittie in vs, and I went to her, while Musidorus laboured obout Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon then my selfe, so as I could but receaue some fewe of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing vnto me many crosses and mischaunces in my loue, when soeuer I should loue, wherein I feare, and only feare that her praiers is from aboue granted. But the noise of this fight, and issue thereof being blazed by the countrye people to some noble-men there-abouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered vs, let vs go on our iourney, we hauing recōmended those royall bodies vnto them to be conueied to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea, seeing the teares stand in his eyes with remēbrance of Palladius, but much more of that which thervpon grew, she would needs drink a kisse from those eyes, and he sucke another frō her lippes; wherat she blushed, and yet kissed him again to hide her blushing, Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweete a rigor forbad him, that he durst not rebell, though he found it a great warre to keepe that peace, but was faine to goe on in his storie: for so she absolutely bad him, and he durst not know how to disobey.
So (said he) parting from that place before the Sunne had much abased himselfe of his greatest height, we sawe sitting vpon the drie sandes) which yeelded at that time a verie hotte reflection) a faire Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorow, and euery way shewed she cared notwhat paine she put her body to, since the better parte (her minde) was laide vnder so much agonie: and so was she dulled withall, that we could come so neare, as to heare her speeches, and yet she not perceiue the hearers of her lamentation. But wel we might vnderstand her
at times say. Thou dost kill me with thy vnkinde falshood: and, It greeues me not to die, but it greeues me that thou art the murtherer: neither doth mine own paine so much vexe me, as thy errour. For God knowes, it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torments me to be slaine by thee. Thou art vntrue, Pamphilus,
thou art vntrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft didst thou sweare vnto me, that the Sunne should loose his light, and the rocks runne vp and downe like little kiddes, before thou wouldst falsifie thy faith to me? Sunne therefore put out thy shining, and rockes runne madde for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keepes his light, though thy faith be darckned; the rockes stand still; though thou change like a wethercocke. O foole that I am, that thought I could graspe water, and binde the winde. I might well haue knowen thee by others, but I would not; and rather wished to learne poison by drinking it my selfe, while my loue helped thy words to deceiue me. Wel, yet I would thou hadst made a better choise when thou didst forsake thy vnfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistres) wil reuenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus liue happy though I dye.
And much more to such like phrase she spake, but that I (who had occasion to know some-thing of that Pamphilus) stept to comfort her: and though I could not doo that, yet I gotte thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whome the vnconstant Pamphilus had betrothed himselfe, which had moued the other Ladies to such indignation as I tolde you: neither her worthines (which in trueth was great) nor his owne suffering for her (which is woont to endeare affection) could fetter his ficklenes, but that before his mariage-daye appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whome she complained; one, that in diuers places I had heard before blazed, as the most impudently vnchaste woman of all Asia; and withall, of such an imperiousnes therein, that she would not stick to employe them (whome she made vnhappie with her fauour) to drawe more companions of their follie: in the multitude of whome she did no lesse glorie, then a Captaine would doo, of being followed by braue Souldiers: waiwardly proud; and therefore bold, because extreamely faultie: and yet hauing no good thing to redeeme both these, and other vnlouely parts, but a little beautie, disgraced with wandring eyes, and vnwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withal, left his faith: Leucippe, of whom one look (in a cleer iudgement) would haue bene more acceptable, then all her kindnesses so prodigallie bestowed. For my selfe, the remembrance of his cruell handling Dido, ioyned to this, stirred me to seeke some reuenge vpon him, but that I thought, it should be a gayne to him to lose his life, being so matched: and therefore (leauing him to be punished by his owne election) we conueyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestall Nunnes, where she resolued to spend all her yeares (which her youth promised should be many) in bewayling the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong doer.
But the next morning, we (hauing striuen with the Sunnes earlines) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there ouertoke vs a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to vs, but indeede (sweete Ladie) it was the faire Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom vnconsulting affection (vnfortunately borne to me-wardes) had made borrowe so much of her naturall modestie, as to leaue her more-decent rayments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing vs, had apparelled her selfe like a page, with a pitifull crueltie cutting of her golden haire, leauing nothing, but the short curles, to couer that noble heade,
but that she ware vpon it a faire head-peece, a shielde at her back, and a launce in her hand, els disarmed. Her apparell of white, wrought vpon with broken knots, her horse, faire and lustie, which she rid so, as might shew a fearefull boldnes, daring to doo that, which she knew that she knew not how to doo: and the sweetenes of her countenance did giue such a grace to what she did, that it did make hansome the vnhansomnes, and make the eye force the minde to beleeue, that there was a praise in that vnskilfulnesse. But she straight approached me, and with fewe woords (which borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselues vnderstoode) she desired me to accept her into my seruice; telling me she was a noblemans sonne of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who hauing seene what I had done in that court, had stolne from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the maner of Andromanas following me, which by her I vnderstood, she hiding nothing (but her sexe) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memorie: but liking very well the yong Gentleman, (such I tooke her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me, who well shewed there is no seruice like his, that serues because he loues. For though born of Princes bloud, brought vp with tēderest education, vnapt to seruice (because a woman) and full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Loue enioyned such diligence, that no apprentise, no, no bondslaue could euer be by feare more readie at all commaundementes, then that yong Princesse was. How often (alas) did her eyes say vnto me, that they loued? and yet, I not looking for such a matter) had not my conceipt open, to vnderstand them, how often would she come creeping to me, betweene gladnes to be neere me, and feare to offend me? Truely I remember, that then I meruailed to see her receiue my commandements with sighes, and yet do them with cheerefulnes: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought a childish inexperience: but since returning to my remēbrance they haue come more cleere vnto my knowledge: and pardon me (onely deare Lady) that I vse many words: for her affection to me deserues of me an affectionate speach.
But in such sort did she serue me in that kingdom of Bythinia, for two moneths space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruell warre long maintained betweene the king of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (diuiding our selues to either side) found meanes (after some triall we had made of our selues) to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great peace between themselues, as loue towards vs, for hauing made the peace. Which done, we intended to returne through the Kingdome of Galatia, towarde Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwracke; and then with the other dangers we dayly past, should haue little rest in their thoughts till they saw vs. But we were not entred into that kingdome, when by the noise of a great fight, we were guided to a pleasant valey, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities some-where doth giue a pleasant spectacle of running horses; so of either side stretching it selfe in a narrow length was it hemd in by wooddy hilles; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we behelde one of the cruellest fightes betweene two Knights, that euer hath adorned the most martiall storie. So as I must confesse, a while we stood bewondred, another while delighted with the rare brauery therof; til seeing such streames of bloud, as threatned a drowning of life, we gallopped toward them to part them. But we were preuented by a dosen armed Knights, or rather villains, who vsing this time of their
extreame feeblenesse, all together set vpon them. But common daunger brake off particular discord, so that (though with a dying weakenes) with a liuely courage they resisted, and by our help draue away, or slue those murdering attempters: among whom we hapt to take aliue the principall. But going to disarme those two excellent Knights, we found with no lesse wonder to vs, then astonishment to themselues, that they were the two valiaunt, and indeede famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor; whose aduenture (as afterward we made that vngratious wretch confesse) had thus fallen out.
After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his fathers death succeeded in the kingdome of Galatia, he (forgetting all former iniuries) had receiued that naughtie Plexirtus into a streight degree of fauour, his goodnesse being as apt to be deceiued, as the others craft was to deceiue. Till by plaine proofe finding, that the vngratefull man went about to poyson him, yet would not suffer his kindnesse to be ouercome, not by iustice it selfe: but calling him to him, vsed words to this purpose.
Plexirtus (said he) this wickednesse is founde by thee. No good deedes of mine haue bene able to keepe it downe in thee. All men counsell me to take away thy life, likely to bring foorth nothing, but as daungerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot finde it in my harte, remembring what fathers sonne thou art. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchaunce puls thee from thine owne iudgement,
I will see, whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirites. Not farre hence is the great cittie of Trebisonde; which, with the territorie about it, aunciently pertained vnto this crowne, now vniustly possessed, and as vniustly abused by those, who haue neither title to holde it, nor vertue to rule it. To the conquest of that for thy selfe I will lende thee force, and giue thee my right. Go therefore, and with lesse vnnaturalnesse glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learne vertue.
Plexirtus, mingling forsworne excuses with false-meant promises, gladly embraced the offer: and hastilie sending backe for those two Brothers (who at that time were with vs succouring the gratious Queene Erona) by their vertue chiefly (if not onely) obteined the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeede done by them, gaue them such an authoritie, that though he raigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they onely deserued honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound vnto them: while they likewise (with
•
certaine sincere boldnesse of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all openly and plainely, thinking nothing should euer by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.
But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could construe no other end of mens doings, but selfe seking) sodenly feared what they could doo; and as sodainely suspected, what they would doo, and as sodainly hated them, as hauing both might, and minde to doo. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their owne valour, and others affection, he durst not take open way against them: and as hard it was to take a secrete, they being so continually followed by the best, and euery way hablest of that region: and therefore vsed this diuelish sleight (which I will tell you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turne their owne friendship toward him to their owne destruction. He, (knowing that they well knew, there was no friendship betweene him and the new King of Pontus, neuer since he succoured Leonatus and vs, to his ouerthrow) gaue them to vnderstand that of late there had passed
secrete defiance betweene them, to meete priuately at a place apointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatnes, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go backe. Yet faining to find himselfe weake by some counterfait infirmitie, the day drawing neere, he requested each of them to go in his stead; making either of thē sweare, to keepe the matter secret, euen ech from other, deliuering the selfe same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blew armour; and Telenor, that it was a black armour: and with wicked subtiltie (as if it had bene so apointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a blew; appointing them waies how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, till they came to the place appointed, where each had promised to keepe silence, lest the King should discouer it was not Plexirtus: and there in a wait had he laied these murtherers, that who ouerliued the other, should by them be dispatched: he not daring trust more then those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselues by themselues were weakened.
This we learned chiefly, by the chiefe of those way-beaters, after the death of those two worthie brothers, whose loue was no lesse, then their valour: but well we might finde much thereof by their pitifull lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other (in despite of the Surgerie we could doo vnto them) striuing who should runne fastest to the goale of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himselfe: cursing their owne hands for doing, and their breastes for not sooner suffering: detesting their vnfortunately-spent time in hauing serued so vngratefull a Tyraunt: and accusing their folly in hauing beleeued, he could faithfully loue, who did not loue faithfulnes: wishing vs to take heed, how we placed our good will vpon any other ground, then proofe of vertue: since length of acquaintance, mutuall secrecies, nor height of benefits could binde a sauage harte; no man being good to other, that is not good in himselfe. Then (while any hope was) beseeching vs to leaue the care of him that besought, and onely looke to the other. But when they found by themselues, and vs, no possibilitie, they desired to be ioined; and so embracing and crauing that pardon each of other, which they denied to themselues, they gaue vs a most sorrowfull spectacle of their death; leauing
•
ew in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soone inough knowne the ground and limits of friendship. But with wofull hartes, we caused those bodies to be conueyed to the next towne of Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I haue tolde you) caused the wicked Historian to conclude his story, with his owne well-deserued death.
But then (I must tell you) I found such wofull countenances in Daiphantus, that I could not but much maruaile (finding them cōtinew beyond the first assault of pittie) how the case of strangers (for further I did not conceiue) could so deepely pearce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame and sorrow she tooke of her fathers faultinesse, partly with the feare, that the hate I conceiued against him, would vtterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoeuer I should know her, so vehemētly perplexed her, that her fayre colour decaied; and dayly, & hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorowfulnes: which oft I sought to learne, and helpe. But she, as fearefull as louing, still concealed it; and so decaying still more & more, in the excellencie of her fairenesse, but that whatsoeuer weakenesse tooke away, pitie seemed to adde: yet still she forced her selfe to waite on me, with such care and diligence, as might well shew had bene taught in no other schoole, but Loue.
While we returning againe to embarke our selues for Greece, vnderstood that the mighty Otanes (brother to Barzanes slaine by Musidorus, in the battaile of the six Princes) had entred vpon the kingdome of Pontus, partly vpon the pretences he had to the crowne, but principally, because he would reuenge vpon him (whom he knew we loued) the losse of his brother: thincking (as indeede he had cause) that wheresoeuer we were, hearing of his extremitie, we would come to relieue him; in spite whereof he doubted not to preuaile, not onely vpon the confidence of his owne vertue and power, but especially because he had in his company two mighty Giants, sonnes to a couple whom we slue in the same realme: they hauing bene absent at their fathers death, and now returned, willingly entered into his seruice, hating (more then he) both vs, and that King of Pontus. We therfore with all speede went thetherward, but by the way this fell out, which whensoeuer I remember without sorrow, I must forget withall, all humanitie.
Poore Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquere the delicacie of her constitution, and force her selfe to waite on me: till one day going towarde Pontus, we met one, who in great hast went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose death as yet was not knowne vnto the messenger; who (being their seruaunt, and knowing how deerely they loued Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in present daunger of a cruell death, if by the valiantnesse of one of the best Knightes of the world, he were not reskewed: we enquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his losse finde what an vnprofitable treason it had bene vnto him, to dismember himselfe of two such friends) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his masters destruction, by the falshood of Plexirtus.
But the griefe of that (finding a bodie alreadie brought to the last degree of weakenesse) so ouerwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell sodainely into deadly soundings; neuer comming to her selfe, but that withall she returned to make most pittifull lamentations; most straunge vnto vs, because we were farre from ghessing the ground thereof. But finding her sicknesse such, as began to print death in her eyes, we made all hast possible to conuey her to the next towne: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, and she might find in herselfe, that the harbingers of ouer-hastie death, had prepared his lodging in that daintie body, which she vndoubtedly feeling, with a weake chearefulnes, shewed comfort therein; and then desiring vs both to come neere her, and that no bodie els might be present; with pale, and yet (euen in palenes) louely lips, Now or neuer, and neuer indeed, but now is it time for me (said she) to speake: and I thanke death which giues me leaue to discouer that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath bene the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles, that your page
Daiphantus is the vnfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as vnfortunate) louer, and cosen, Palladius, to leaue his fathers court, and consequētly, both him and my Aunt his mother, to loose their liues. For your sake my selfe haue become, of a Princesse a Page: and for your sake haue put off the apparell of a woman, and (if you iudge not more mercifully) the modestie. We were amazed at her speach, and then had (as it were) new eies giuē vs to perceiue that which before had bene a present strāger to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, whō before we had knowen in the court of Iberia. And sorrow & pittie laying her
paine vpon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tendernes of good-will, pretending indeed better hope then I had of her recouery.
But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant that shortly would oppresse her, No, my deere master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to liue. I know you would neuer haue loued me (and with that word she wept) nor, alas, had it bene reason you should, considering manie wayes my vnworthines. It sufficeth me that the strange course I haue taken, shall to your remembrance, witnesse my loue: and yet this breaking of my hart, before I would discouer my paine, will make you (I hope) thinke that I was not altogether vnmodest. Thinke of me so, deare Master, and that thought shall be my life: and with that, languishingly looking vpon me; And I pray you (said she) euen by these dying eies of mine (which are onely sorrie to dye, because they shall lose your sight) and by these pouled lockes of mine (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curles, the testimonie of my seruitude) and by the seruice I haue done you (which God knowes hath beene full of loue) thinke of me after my death with kindnes, though ye cannot with loue. And whensoeuer ye shall make any other Ladie happie with your well placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speake of it, not with scorne, but with pittie. I assure you (deare Princesse of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manner, with the liuely consideration of her loue, so pearced me, that, though I had diuerse griefes before, yet me thought I neuer felt till then, how much sorow enfeebleth all resolution. For I could not chuse, but yeeld to the weakenes of abundant weeping; in trueth with such griefe, that I could willingly at that time haue chaunged liues with her.
But when she saw my teares, O God (said she) how largely am I recompenced for my losses? why then (said shee) I may take boldnesse to make some requests vnto you. I besought her to doo, vowing the performance, though my life were the price thereof. She shewed great ioy: The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you haue iustly conceiued against him, and for this once, succour him out of the daunger wherein he is: I hope he will amend: and I pray you, whensoeuer you remember him to be the faultie Plexirtus, remember withall that he is Zelmanes father. The second is, that when you come once into Greece, you will take vnto your selfe this name (though vnlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shall I be sure, you shall haue cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I doo that right to that poore Prince, that his name yet may liue vpon the earth in so excellent a person: and so betwene you, I trust sometimes your vnluckie page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mencioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to know my fortune, till (whē you are safely returned to your own countrie) you cause my bones to be conueied thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where your selfe vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitiōs for such a suter; which yet she so earnestly craued, that I was faine to sweare the accomplishment. And then kissing me, and often desiring me not to condemne her of lightnesse, in mine armes she deliuered her pure soule to the purest place: leauing me as full of agonie, as kindnes, pitie, and sorow could make an honest hart. For I must confesse
•
or true, that if my starres had not wholy reserued me for you, there els perhaps I might haue loued, and (which had bene most strange) begun my loue after death: wherof let it be the lesse maruaile, because somewhat she did resemble you: though
as farre short of your perfection, as her selfe dying, was of her selfe flourishing: yet somthing there was, which (when I saw a picture of yours) brought againe her figure into my remembrance, and made my hart as apt to receiue the wounde, as the power of your beauty with vnresistable force to pearce.
But we in wofull (and yet priuat) manner burying her, performed her commandement: and then enquiring of her fathers estate, certainly learned that he was presently to be succoured, or by death to passe the neede of succour. Therefore we determined to diuide our selues; I, according to my vowe, to helpe him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no lesse need then immediat succour, & euen readie to depart one from the other, there came a messenger from him, who after some enquirie found vs, giuing vs to vnderstand, that he trusting vpon vs two, had apointed the combat betweene him and vs, against Otanes, and the two Gyants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to succour Plexirtus, and be there, where my honour was not only so far engaged, but (by the straunge working of vniust fortune) I was to leaue the standing by Musidorus, whom better then my selfe I loued, to go saue him whom for iust causes I hated. But my promise giuen, and giuen to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, preuailed more with me, then my friendship to Musidorus: though certainely I may affirme, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts, as that. But my promise caried me the easier, because Musidorus
himselfe would not suffer me to breake it. And so with heauy mindes (more carefull each of others successe, then of our owne) we parted; I toward the place, where I vnderstood Plexirtus was prisoner to an auncient Lord, absolutely gouerning a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other soueraigne, but himselfe: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, whom he malitiously had murdered, because in the time that he raigned in Galatia, he foūd him apt to practise for the restoring of his vertuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for reuenge, vsed (as the way to it) a pollicie, which this occasion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had maried Zelmanes mother, who dying of that only child-birth, he a widdower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was cunning to winne fauour) he obteined great good liking of Artaxia, which he purs
•
ed, till (being called home by his father) he falsly got his fathers kingdome; and then neglected his former loue: till throwen out of that (by our meanes) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by againe placed in Trebisonde, vnderstanding that Artaxia by her brothers death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter then euer, in that pursuit, which being vnderstood by this olde Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very priuate) repaire thether, giuing him faithfull promise of present mariage: a thing farre from her thought, hauing faithfully, and publiquely protested, that she would neuer marrie any, but some such Prince who would giue sure proofe, that by his meanes we were destroyed. But he (no more wittie to frame, then blinde to iudge hopes) bit hastely at the baite, and in priuate maner poasted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid hold of him, and condemned him to death, cruell inough, if any thing may be both cruell and iust. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliuer him to be deuoured by a mōstrous beast of most vgly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a
Leopard, and as cruell as a Tigre: whom he hauing kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fitter match, then such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withall, that if any so well loued him, as to venture their liues against his beast, for him, if they ouercame, he should be saued: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in that monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrappe thereby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no lesse hated, because they had bene principall instruments of the others power.
I dare say, if Zelmane had knowen what daunger I should haue passed, she would rather haue let her father perish, then me to haue bidden that aduenture. But my word was past, and truely, the hardnes of the enterprise, was not so much a bitte, "as a spurre vnto me; knowing well, that the iorney of high honor lies not in plaine wayes. Therefore, going thether, and taking sufficient securitie, that Plexirtus should be deliuered if I were victorious, I vndertooke the combatte: and (to make short, excellent Ladie, and not to trouble your eares with recounting a terrible matter) so was my weakenes blessed from aboue, that without dangerous wounds I slew that monster, which hundreds durst not attempt: to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might looke on) that there was order giuen, to haue the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the olde noble-man so well liked me, that he loued me; onely bewayling, my vertue had beene imployed to saue a worse monster then I killed: whom yet (according to faith giuen) he deliuered, and accompanied me to the kingdome of Pontus, whether I would needes in all speede go, to see whether it were possible for me (if perchance the day had bene delaied) to come to the combat. But that (before I came) had bene thus finished.
The vertuous Leonatus vnderstanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him selfe: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truth is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otanes prisoner. To whom as he gaue his life, so he gotte a noble friend: for so he gaue his word to be, and he is well knowen to thinke himselfe greater in being subiect to that, then in the greatnes of his principalitie.
But thither (vnderstanding of our being there) flocked great multitudes of many great persons, and euen of Princes; especially those, whom we had made beholding vnto vs: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurte, of Pontus
and Galatia, and Otanes the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither came Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, then King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawen either by our reputation, or by willingnes to acknowledge themselues obliged vnto vs, for what we had done for the others. So as in those partes of the woild, I thinke, in many hundreds of yeares, there was not seene so royall an assemblie: where nothing was let passe to doo vs the highest honors, which such persons (who might commaund both purses and inuentions) could perfourme. All from all sides bringing vnto vs right toyall presents (which we to auoide both vnkindnes, and importunitie, liberally receiued,) and not content therewith, would needes accept, as from vs, their crownes, and acknowledge to hold them of vs: with many other excessiue honors, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe vnto you.
But we quickely aweary thereof, hasted to Greece
•
ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I vnderstoode that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had gone thither to seeke me, and was now come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himselfe so noble deedes, as might hap to aucthorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore suffred but short delayes, desiring to take this countrey in our way, so renowmed ouer the worlde, that no Prince coulde pretend height, nor bigger lownesse, to barre him from the sound thereof: renowmed indeede, not so much for the ancient prayses attributed thereunto, as for the hauing in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prowes, as we desired especially to know) and yet by farre, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beautie of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent iudges, that speake thereof, account this countrie as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed mouing vs to come by this land, wee embarked our selues in the next porte, whether all those Princes (sauing Antiphilus,
who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry longer from Erona) conueied vs. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who had made all thinges so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repentance in his eies, friendship in his gesture, and vertue in his mouth: so that we who had promised the sweete Zelmane to pardon him, now not onely forgaue, but began to fauour; perswading our selues with a youthfull credulitie, that pechance thinges were not so euill as wee tooke them and as it were desiring our owne memorie, that it might be so. But so were we licensed from those Princes, truely not without teares, especially of the vertuous Leonatus, who with the king of Pontus, would haue come with vs, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, and both their new settled kingdomes) would not suffer it. Then would they haue sent whole fleetes to to guard vs: but we, that desired to passe secretely into Greece, made them leaue that motion, when they found that more ships, then one, would be displeasing vnto vs. But so committing our selues to the vncertaine discretion of the wind, we (then determining as soone as we came to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus & Palladius as well for our owne promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come vnknowne into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who euen vpon their knees recommended our safeties to the deuotion of their chiefe desires: among whome none had bene so officious (though I dare affirme, all quite contrarie to his vnfaithfulnes) as Plexirtus.
And So hauing sailed almost two daies, looking for nothing but when we might looke vpon the land, a graue m
•
n (whom we had seene of great trust with Plexirtus and was sent as our principall guide) came vnto vs, and with a certaine kinde manner mixt with shame, & repentance, began to tel vs, that he had takē such a loue vnto vs (cōsidering our youth & fame) that though he were a seruant & a seruant of such, trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed vnto him euen those secretes of his hart, which abhorde all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reueale at this time a most pernitious counsel; then by councealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and tolde vs, that Plexirtus (in hope therby to haue Artaxia, endowed with the great Kingdome of Armenia, to his wife) had giuen him order when we were neere Greece, to finde some opportunitie to murder vs, bidding him to take vs a sleepe, because he had seene what we could do waking.
Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times loose my life, then haue my remembrance (while I liued) poysoned with such a mischiefe: and therefore if it were onely I, that knewe herein the Kings order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safetie. But to one more (said hee) namely the Captaine of the shippe, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think laying the cause rather vpon old grudge, then his hope o
•
Artaxia. And my selfe, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawn loue and pittie into mind imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischiefe. Therefore, I wishe you to stand vpon your garde assuring you, that what I can doo for your safetie, you shal see (if it come to the pushe) by me perfourmed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserued, and from that time would no more disarme our selues, nor the one "sleepe without his friendes eyes waked for him: so that it delaied the going forward of their bad enterprize, while they thought it rather chaunce, then prouidence, which made vs so behaue ourselues.
But when we came within halfe a daies sayling of the shore, so that they sawe it was speedily, or not at all to be done. Thē (& I remember it was about the first watch in the night) came the Captaine and whispered the Councellour in the eare: But he (as it should seem) disswading him from it, the Captaine (who had bene a pyrate from his youth, and o
•
ten blouded in it) with a lowde voice sware, that if Plexirtus bad him, he would not sticke to kill God him selfe. And therewith cald his mates, and in the Kings name willed them to take vs, aliue or dead; encouraging them with the spoile of vs, which he said, (and indeed was true) would yeeld many exceeding rich iewels. But the Councellour according to his promise) commanded them they should not commit such a villany, protesting that hee would stand betweene them and the Kings anger therein. Wherewith the Captaine enraged: Nay (said he) then we must begin with this traitor him selfe: and therewith gaue him a sore blow vpon the head, who honestly did the best he could to reuenge himselfe.
But then we knew it time rather to encounter, then waite for mischiefe. And so against the Captaine wee went, who straight was enuironned with most parte of the Souldiers and Mariners. And yet the trueth is, there were some, whom either the authoritie of the councellour, doubt of the Kinges minde, or liking of vs, made drawe their swords of our side: so that quickely it grewe a most confused fight. For the narrownesse of the place, the darkenesse of the time, and the vncertainty in such a tumult how to know friends from foes, made the rage of swordes rather guide, then be guided by their maisters. For my cousin and mee, truely I thinke wee neuer perfourmed lesse in any place, doing no other hurte, then the defence of our selues, and succouring them who came for it, draue vs too: for not discerning perfectly, who were for, or against vs, we thought it lesse euill to spare a foe, then spoile a freend. But from the highest to the lowest parte of the shippe there was no place lefte, without cryes of murdring, and murdred persons. The Captaine I hapt a while to fight withall, but was driuen to parte with him, by hearing the crie of the Councellour, who receiued a mortall wounde, mistaken of one of his owne side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, and wish peace, but while the words of peace were in their mouthes, some of their euill auditours gaue them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceiue hope of liuing, but by being last aliue: and therefore euery one was willing to make him selfe roome, by dispatching almost any other: so that the great number in the ship
was reduced to exceeding few, whē of those few the most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boate, which was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others came leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boate, and themselues.
But while euen in that little remnant (like the children of Cadmus) we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which (whether by the desperate malice of some, or intention to separate, or accidentally while all thinges were cast vp and downe) it should seeme had taken a good while before, but neuer heeded of vs, (who onely thought to preserue, or reuenge) now violently burst out in many places, and began to maister the principall partes of the ship. Then necessitie made vs see, that, a common enimy sets at one a ciuill warre: for that little all we were (as if wee had bene waged by one man to quench a fire) streight went to resist that furious enimie by all art and labour: but it was to late, for already it did embrace and deuoure from the sterne, to the wast of the ship: so as labouring in vaine, we were driuen to get vp to the prowe of the ship, by the worke of nature seeking to preserue life, as long as we could: while truely it was a straunge and ougly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light vs to death. And by and by it had burned off the maste, which all this while had prowdly borne the sayle (the winde, as might seeme, delighted to carrie fire & bloud in his mouth) but now it fell ouerboord, and the fire growing neerer vs, it was not onely terrible in respect of what we were to attend, but insupportable through the heat of it.
So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, but disarming and stripping our selues, and laying our selues vpon such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the lande (too far for our owne strength to beare vs) my cousin and I threw ourselues into the Sea. But I had swomme a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the trauaile, and therefore seeing the maste (whose tackling had bene burnt of) flote cleare from the ship, I swāme vnto it, and getting on it, I found mine owne sworde, which by chaunce, when I threw it away (caught by a peece of canuas) had honge to the maste. I was glad, because I loued it well; but gladder, when I saw at the other end, the Captaine of the ship and of all this mischiefe; who hauing a long pike, belike had borne himselfe vp with that, till he had set him selfe vpon the mast. But when I perceiued him. Villaine (said I) doost thou thinke to ouerliue so many honest men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to destruction? with that bestriding the mast, I gat by little and little towardes him, after such a manner as boies are wont (if euer you saw that sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiuing my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage then honestie, set him selfe to resist. But I had in short space gotten within him, and (giuing him a sound blowe) sent him to feede fishes. But there my selfe remainde, vntill by pyrates I was taken vp, & among them againe taken prisoner, and brought into Laconia.
But what (said Philoclea) became of your cousin Musidorus? Lost saide Pyrocles. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea, I am glad I haue taken you. I perceiue you loue
••
doo not alwaies say truely: as though I knew not your cousin Dorus, the sheepeheard? Life of my desires (said Pyrocles) what is mine, euen to my soule is you
••
but the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you know so much, then I may t
•••
ly say, he is lost, since he is no more his owne. But I perceiue, your noble sister and you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward
〈◊〉
Pyrocles, I long
to heare out till your meeting me: for there to me-ward is the best part of your storie. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you thinke I can thinke so precious leysure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit booke (thinke you) to reade a tale vpon? Is my loue quiet inough to be an historian? Deare Princesse, be gracious vnto me. And then he faine would haue remembred to haue forgot himselfe. But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired him that her desire (once for euer) might serue, that no spote might disgrace that loue which shortly she hoped should be to the world warrantable. Faine he would not haue heard, till shee threatned anger. And then the poore louer durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, deare Pyrocles (said she) let me haue my story. Sweet Princesse (said he) giue my thoughts a little respite: and if it please you, since this time must so bee spoiled, yet it shall suffer the lesse harme, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let mee know, how the good Queene Erona was betraied into such danger, and why Plangus sought me. For indeede, I should pitie greatly any mischance fallen to that Princesse. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you giue me your worde, your handes shall be quiet auditours. They shall, said he, because subiect. Then began shee to speake, but with so prettie and delightfull a maiestie, when she set her countenaunce to tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not chuse but rebell so far, as to kisse her. She would haue puld her head away, and speake, but while she spake he kist, & it seemed he fedde vpon her words: but she gate away. How will you haue your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone? Hee yeelded and tooke her hand. On this (saide hee) will I reuenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius backe was turned, came vnto them: and tolde Philoclea, she deserued she knew what, for leauing her mother, being euill at ease, to keepe companie with straungers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her fathers commandement, she went away muttering, that though her back, & her shoulders, & her necke were broken, yet as long as her tongue would wagge, it should do her errand to her mother. And so went vp to Gynecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dreame. It seemed vnto her to bee in a place full of thornes, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing still, nor tread safely going forward. In this case she thought Zelmane, being vpon a faire hill, delightfull to the eye, and easie in apparance, called her thither: whither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead bodie like vnto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smel to infect her, as she was redie likewise within a while to die, the dead bodie she thought tooke her in his armes, and said, Gynecia, leaue all; for here is thy onely rest.
With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. But remembring her selfe, and seeing Basilius by, (her guiltie conscience more suspecting, then being suspected she turned her cal, and called for Philoclea. Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basilins, as though she would speake though she died for it) tolde Gynecia,
that her daughter had bene a whole houre togither in secrete talke with Zelmane: And (sayes she) for my part I coulde not be heard (your daughters are brought vp in such awe) though I tolde her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynecia, as if shee had heard her last doome pronounced against her, with a side-looke & chaunged countenance, O my Lorde (said she) what meane you to suffer these yong folkes together
Basilius (that aymed nothing at the marke of her suspition) smilingly tooke her in his armes, sweete wife (said he) I thanke you for your care of your childe: but
they must be youthes of other mettall, then Zelmane, that can endaunger her. O but; cryed Gynecia, and therewith she stayed: for then indeede she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of loue, and rage of iealousie. Manie times was she about to satisfie the spite of her minde, and tell Basilius, how she knewe Zelmane to bee farre otherwise then the outwarde appearance. But those many times were all put backe by the manifolde obiections of her vehement loue. Faine shee would haue barde her daughters happe, but loth she was to cut off her owne hope. But now, as if her life had bene set vppon a wager of quicke rysing, as weake as shee was, shee gat vp; though Basilius, (with a kindnesse flowing onely from the fountaine of vnkindnesse, being indeed desirous to winne his daughter as much time as might bee) was loth to suffer it, swearing hee sawe sickenesse in her face, and therefore was loath shee should aduenture the ayre.
But the great and wretched Ladie Gynecia, possessed with those deuils of Loue and Iealousie, did rid herselfe from her tedious husbande: and taking no body with her going toward them; O Iealousie (said she) the phrensie of wise folkes, the well-wishing spite, and vnkinde carefulnesse, the selfe-punishment for others fault, and selfe-miserie in others happinesse, the cousin of enuie, daughter of loue, and mother of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seate in the vnquiet hart of Gynecia, Gynecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once vertuous? Alas it is thy breeders power which plantes thee there: it is the flaming agonie of affection, that works the chilling accesse of thy feuer, in such sort, that nature giues place; the growing of my daughter seemes the decay of my selfe; the blessings of a mother turne to the curses of a competitor; and the faire face of Philoclea, appeares more horrible in my sight, then the image of death. Then remembred she this song, which she thought tooke a right measure of her present minde,
VVYth two strange fires of equall heate possest,
The one of Loue, the other Iealousie,
Both still do worke, in neither finde I rest:
For both, alas, their strengthes together tie:
The one aloft doth holde, the other hie.
Loue wakes the the iealous eye least thence it moues:
The iealous eye, the more it lookes, it loues.
These fires increase: in these I dayly burne:
They feede on me, and with my wings do flie:
My louely ioyes to dolefull ashes turne:
Their flames mount vp, my powers prostrate lie:
They liue in force. I quite consumed die.
One wonder yet farre passeth my conceate:
The fuell small: how be the fires so great?
But her vnleasured thoughtes ran not ouer the ten first wordes; but going with a pace, not so much to fast for her bodie, as slowe for her minde, shee found them together, who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poore Philoclea, (whose conscience now began to know cause of blushing) for first salutation, receyuing an eye from her mother, full of the
same disdainefull scorne, which Pallas shewed to poore Arachne, that durst contend with her for the prize of well weauing: yet did the force of loue so much rule her, that though for Zelmanes sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmanes sake shee vsed no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitarie father.
Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when sodainly the confused rumor of a mutinous multitude gaue iust occasion to Zelmane to breake of any such conference, (for well shee found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conueniently they could towards the lodge. Yet before they coulde winne the lodge by twentie paces, they were ouertaken by an vnruly sort of clownes, and other rebels, which like a violent floud, were caried, they themselues knewe not whether. But assoone as they came within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beastes, without respect of their estates, or pitie of their sexe, they began too runne against them, as right villaines, thinking abilitie to doo hurt, to be a great aduancement: yet so many as they were, so many almost were their mindes, all knitte together only in madnes. Some cried, Take; some, Kill; some, Saue: but euen they that cried saue, ran for companie with them that meant to kill. Euerie one commaunded, none obeyed, he onely seemed chiefe Captaine, that was most ragefull.
Zelmane (whose vertuous courage was euer awake) drew out her sword, which vpon those il-armed churls giuing as many wounds as blowes and as many deathes almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart vpon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got themselues into the lodge: out of the which, Basilius (hauing put on an armour long vntried) came to proue his authoritie among his subiects, or at lest, to aduenture his life with his deare mistresse, to whō he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attēded the issue of this dangerous aduenture. But Zelmane made them perceiue the ods betweene an Eagle and a Kight, with such a nimble stayednes, and such an assured nimblenes, that while one was running backe feare, his fellow had her sword in his guts.
And by and by was both her harte and helpe well encreased by the comming of Dorus, who hauing beene making of hurdles for his masters sheepe, hearde the horrible cries of this madde multitude; and hauing streight represented before the eies of his carefull loue, the perill wherein the soule of his soule might bee, hee went to Pamelas lodge, but found her in a caue hard by, with Mopsa and Dametas, who at that time would not haue opened the entrie to his father. And therefore leauing them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and vnknowen) he ranne as the noise guyded him. But when hee sawe his friende in such danger among them, anger and contempt (asking no counsell but of courage) made him runne among them, with no other weapon but his sheephooke, and with that ouerthrowing one of the villaines, tooke away a two-hand sword from him, and withall, helpt him from euer being ashamed of loosing it. Then lifting vp his braue heade, and f
•
ashing terror into their faces, he made armes and legs goe complaine to the earth, how euill their maisters had kept them. Yet the multitude still growing, and the verie killing wearying them (fearing, lest in long fight they should bee conquered with conquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forwarde: like a valiant mastiffe, whom when his master pulles backe by the taile from the beare (with whom he hath alreadie interchanged a hatefull imbracement) though his pace be backwarde, his gesture is foreward, his teeth
and eyes threatning more in the retiring, then they did in the aduancing: so guided they themselues homeward, neuer stepping steppe backward, but that they proued themselues masters of the ground where they stept.
Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellowe, a tayler by occupation, who fetching his courage onelie from their going back, began to bow his knees, and very fencer-like to draw neere to Zelmane. But as he came within her distance, turning his swerd very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, strake off his nose. He (being a suiter to a seimsters daughter, and therefore not a little grieued for such a disgrace) stouped downe, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would cleaue on againe. But as his hand was on the ground to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That saw a butcher, a butcherlie chuffe indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) and lifted vp a great leauer, calling Zelmane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slippe the blowe of the leauer) hitte him so surely vpon the side of his face, that she left nothing but the nether iawe, where the tongue still wagged, as willing to say more, if his masters remembrance had serued. O (said a miller that was halfe dronke) see the lucke of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitch-forke at Dorus: but the nimblenes of the wine caried his head so fast, that it made it ouer-runne his feet, so that he fell withall, iust betwene the legs of Dorus: who setting his foote on his neck (though he offered two milche kine, and foure fat hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one eare to the other; which toke it very vnkindlie, to feele such newes before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leauing the miller to vomit his soule out in wine and bloud) with his two-hand sword strake off another quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamed he was growen a couple, and (interpreting it that he should be maried) had bragd of his dreame that morning among his neighbors. But that blow astonished quite a poore painter, who stood by with a pike in his hands. This painter was to counterfette the skirmish betwene the Centaures and Lapithes, and had bene very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more liuely to expresse them; and this morning (being caried by the streame of this companie) the foolish felow was euen delighted to see the effect of blowes. But this last (hapning neere him) so amazed him, that he stood stock still, while Dorus (with a turne of his sword) strake off both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with neuer a hand to performe his skill.
In this manner they recouered the lodge, & gaue the rebels a face of wood of the outside. But they then (though no more furious, yet more couragious whē they saw no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, & fire to the gate, to get themselues entrance. Then did the two Ladies mixe feare with loue, especially Philoclea, who euer caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the follie of loue) hindering the succour which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, nor time to deliberate (the number of t
•••
e villaines still encreasing, and their madnesse still encreasing with their number) thought it onely the meanes to goe beyond their expectation with an vnused boldenesse, and with danger to auoide danger: and therefore opened againe the
•
ate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing redie for her defence) she issued againe among them. The blowes she had dealt before (though all in generall were hastie) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them sodainly
•••
er-neere her, so that she had time to get vp to the iudgement-seate
of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that countrie) was before the court gate. There she paused a while, making signe with her hand vnto them, and withall, speaking aloud, that she had something to say vnto them, that would please them. But she was answered awhile with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a yong farmer (who might do most among the countrie sort, and was caught in a little affection towardes Zelmane) hoping by this kindenesse to haue some good of her, desired them, if they were honest men, to heare the woman speake. Fie fellowes, fie, (said he) what will all the maides in our towne say, if so many tall men shall be afraide to heare a faire wench? I sweare vnto you by no little ones, I had rather giue my teeme of oxen, then we should shewe our selues so vnciuill wights. Besides, I tell you true, I haue heard it of old men counted wisdome, to heare much, and say little. His sententious speech so preuailed, that the most part began to listen. Then she, with such efficacie of gracefulnes, and such a quiet magnanimitie represented in her face in this vttermost perill, as the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks vpon her, in this sort began vnto them.
It is no small comfort vnto me (said she) hauing to speake something vnto you for your owne behoofs, to finde that I haue to deale with such a people, who shew indeed in themselues the right nature of valure, which as it leaues no violence vnattempted, while the choller is nourished with resistance; so when the subiect of their wrath, doth of it self vnloked-for offer it selfe into their hands, it makes them at lest take a pause before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principall matter) haue I to say vnto you; that your Prince Basilius himselfe in person is within this Lodge, and was one of the three, whom a few of you went about to fight withall: (and this she said, not doubting but they knew it well inough; but because she would haue them imagine, that the Prince might thinke that they did not know it) by him am I sent vnto you, as from a Prince to his well approoued subiects, nay as from a father to beloued children, to know what it is that hath bred iust quarrell among you, or who they be that haue any way wronged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires: and indeed (for he knowes your faithfulnes) he commaunds you presently to set downe, and to choose among your selues some one, who may relate your griefes or demaundes vnto him.
This (being more then they hoped for from their Prince) asswaged well their furie, and many of them consented (especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demaunds that he might haue Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talke of their grieues, neuer Bees made such a confused humming: the towne dwellers demanding putting downe of imposts: the country fellowes laying out of commons: some would haue the Prince keepe his Co
•
rt in one place, some in another. All cried out to haue new councellors: but whe
••••
should thinke of any new, they liked them as well as any other, that they could
•
member, especially they would haue the tresure so looked vnto, as that he should
••
uer need to take any more subsidies. At length they fell to direct contrarieties.
〈◊〉
the Artisans, they would haue corne & wine set at a lower price, & bound to be
•
pt so still: the plowmē, vine-laborers, & farmers would none of that. The countri
•
ē demanded that euery man might be free in the chief townes: that could not th
•
Burgesses like of. The peasants would haue al the Gentlemē destroied, the Citizen
•
specially
such as Cookes, Barbers, and those other that liued most on Gentlemen) would but haue them refourmed. And of ech side were like diuisiōs, one neighbourhood beginning to finde fault with another. But no confusion was greater then of particular mens likings and dislikings: one dispraising such a one, whome another praised, and demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would haue exalted. No lesse ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokes-man. The finer sort of Burgesses, as Marchants, Prentises, and Clothworkers, because of their riches, disdaining the baser occupations, and they because of their number as much disdaining them: all they scorning the countrimens ignorance, and the countrymen suspecting as much their cunning: So that Zelmane (finding that their vnited rage was now growne, not only to a diuiding, but to a crossing one of another, and that the mislike growne among themselues did well allay the heate against her) made tokens againe vnto them (as though she tooke great care of their well doing, and were afraid of their falling out) that she would speake vnto them. They now growne iealous one of another (the stay hauing ingendred diuision, and diuision hauing manifested their weaknes) were willing inough to heare, the most part striuing to show themselues willinger then their fellowes: which Zelmane (by the acquaintaunce she had had with such kinde of humors) soone perceiuing, with an angerles brauery, and an vnabashed mildnes, in this manner spake vnto them.
An vnused thing it is, and I think not heretofore seene, ô Arcadians, that a woman should giue publike counsell to men, a stranger to the country people, and that lastly in such a presence by a priuate person, the regall throne should be possessed. But the strangenes of your action makes that vsed for vertue, which your violent necessitie imposeth. For certainely, a woman may well speake to such men, who haue forgotten all manlike gouernment: a straunger may with reason instruct such subiects, that neglect due points of subiection: and is it maruaile this place is entred into by another, since your owne Prince (after thirtie yeares gouernment) dare not shew his face vnto his faithfull people? Heare therefore ô Arcadians, and be ashamed: against whom hath this zealous rage bene stirred? whether haue bene bent these mā
ful weapōs of yours? In this quiet harmles lodge there be harbourd no Argians your ancient enimies, nor Laconians your now feared neighbours. Here be nether hard landlords, nor biting vsurers. Here lodge none, but such, as either you haue great cause to loue, or no cause to hate: here being none, besides your Prince, Princesse, & their childrē, but my self. Is it I then, ô Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? Am I the mark of your vehemēt quarell? if it be so, that innocencie shal not be a stop for furie; if it be so, that the law of hospitalitie (so long & holily obserued amōg you) may not defend a straunger fled to your armes for succour: if in fine it be so, that so many valiaunt mens courages can be enflamed to the mischiefe of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise in me your indignation, so it go no further, I am content to pay the great fauours I haue receiued among you, with my life, not ill deseruing I present it here vnto you, ô Arcadians, if that may satisfie you; rather then you (called ouer the world the wise and quiet Arcadians) should be so vaine, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your countrie will abhor; then you should shew your selues so vngratefull, as to forget the fruite of so many yeares peaceable gouernment; or so vnnaturall, as not to haue with the holy name of your naturall Prince, any furie ouer-maistred. For such a hellish madnes (I know) did neuer enter into your harts, as to attempt any thing against his
person; which no successor, though neuer so hatefull, will euer leaue (for his owne sake) vnreuenged. Neither can your wonted valour be turned to such a basenes, as in stead of a Prince, deliuered vnto you by so many royall ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your fellow subiect, in whome the innate meanes will bring forth rauenous couetousnes, and the newnes of his estate, suspectfull cruelty. Imagine, what could your enimies more wish vnto you, then to see your owne estate with your owne handes vndermined? O what would your fore-fathers say, if they liued at this time, and saw their of-spring defacing such an excellent principalitie, which they with much labour and bloud so wisely haue establisht? Do you thinke them fooles, that saw you should not enioy your vines, your cattell, no not your wiues and children, without gouernment; and that there could be no gouernment without a Magistrate, and no Magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where euery one vpon his owne priuate passion, may interprete the doings of the rulers? Let your wits make your present example a lesson to you. What sweetnes (in good faith) find you in your present condition? what choise of choise finde you, if you had lost Basilius? vnder whose ensigne would you go, if your enimies should inuade you? If you cannot agree vpon one to speake for you, how will you agree vpō one to fight for you? But with this feare of I cannot tell what, one is troubled, and with that passed wrong another is grieued. And I pray you did the Sunne euer bring you a fruitfull haruest, but that it was more hote then pleasant? Haue any of you children, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Haue any of you fathers, that be not sometime weerish? What, shall we curse the Sonne, hate our childrē, or disobey our fathers? But what need I vse these words, since I see in your countenances (now vertuously settled) nothing els but loue and dutie to him, by whom for your only sakes the gouernment is embraced. For all what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thanke you; iudging the action by the minds, & not the minds by the action. Your grieues, and desires, whatsoeuer, and whensoeuer you list, he will consider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to conclude; the vncertainty of his estate made you take armes; now you see him well, with the same loue lay them downe. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must confesse ouer-vehement affection: the only continuance might proue a wickednes. But it is not so, I see very well, you began with zeale, and will end with reuerence.
The action Zelmane vsed, being beautified by nature and apparelled with skill, her gestures being such, that as her words did paint out her minde, so they serued as a shadow, to make the picture more liuely and sensible, with the sweete cleernesse of her voice, rising and falling kindly as the nature of the worde, and efficacie of the matter required, altogether in such an admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felte, whose beautie did pearce through the thicke dulnes of their senses, gaue such a way vnto her speach through the rugged wildernesse of their imaginations, who (besides they were striken in admiration of her, as of more then a humane creature) were coold with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leasute, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a confused muttring, whether her saying were to be followed, betwixt feare to pursue, and lothnesse to leaue: most of them could haue bene content, it had neuer bene begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to loose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no euill way in
such mutinies, to giue the mutinous some occasion of such seruice, as they might thinke (in their owne iudgement) would counteruaile their trespasse, withall, to take the more assured possession of their mindes, which she feared might begin to wauer, Loiall Arcadians (said she) now do I offer vnto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that haue taken armes for the Princes safetie, let them turne their backs to the gate, with their weapōs bent against such as would hurt his sacred person. O weake trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancie onely doth guide to wel doing: who can set confidence there, where cōpany takes away shame, and ech may lay the fault on his fellow? So said a craftie felow among them, named
Clinias, to himselfe, when he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmanes mouth, but that there were some shouts of ioy, with, God saue Basilius, and diuers of them with much iollity growne to be his guard, that but litle before ment to be his murderers.
This Clinias in his youth had bene a scholler so farre, as to learne rather words then maners, and of words rather plentie then order; and oft had vsed to be an actor in Tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to beare the figure of them: long vsed to the eyes and eares of men, and to recken no fault, but shamefastnesse; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in priuie practises.
This fellowe was become of neere trust to Cecropia, Amphialus his mother, so that he was priuy to all the mischieuous deuises, wherewith she went about to ruine Basilius, and his children, for the aduauncing of her sonne: and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his loue to be doing, taught him in any euill to be secret; and had by his mistresse bene vsed (euer since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper rumors into the peoples eares: and this time (finding great aptnes in the multitude) was one of the chiefe that set them in the vprore (though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so haue aduentured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiuing the flood of their furie began to ebbe, he thought it policie to take the first of the tide, so that no man cried lowder then he, vpon Basilius. And some of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his commandement to lift him vp, & then as if he had had a prologue to vtter, he began with a nice grauitie to demaund audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would teare the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so lowde, that not onely Zelmane, but Basilius might heare him. O vnhappie men, more mad then the Giants that would haue plucked Iupiter out of heauen, how long shall this rage continue? why do you not all throw downe your weapons, and submit your selues to our good Prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, and Minos of all good gouernment? when will you begin to beleue me, and other honest and faithfull subiects, that haue done all we could to stop your furie?
The farmer that loued Zelmane could abide him no longer. For as at the first he was willing to speake of conditions, hoping to haue gotten great souerainties, and among the rest Zelmane: so now perceiuing, that the people, once anything downe the hill from their furie, would neuer stay till they came to the bottom of absolute yeelding, and so that he should be nearer feares of punishment, then hopes of such aduancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had bin one of
the chiefest make-bates, strake him a great wound vpon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell downe, crying for succour, and (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) gat to the throne, where Zelmane tooke him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for feare of more.
But as soone as that blow was giuen (as if AEolus had broke open the doore to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, ech one killing him that was next, for feare he should do as much to him. For being diuided in minds and not diuided in companies, they that would yeeld to Basilius were intermingled with them that would not yeeld. These men thinking their ruine stood vpon it; those men to get fauour of their Prince, conuerted their vngracious motion into their owne bowels, and by a true iudgement grew their owne punishers. None was sooner killed then those that had bene leaders in the disobedience: who by being so, had taught them, that they did leade disobediēce to the same leaders. And many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their owne faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then came downe Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and somtimes seeking to draw together those of their party, somtimes laying indifferētly among them, made such hauocke (among the rest Zelmane striking the farmer to the hart with her sword, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certaine woods vpon the frontiers; where feeding wildly, and drinking onely water, they were disciplined for their dronken riots; many of them being slaine in the chase, about a score onely escaping. But when these late rebels, now souldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them togither, partly for policy sake, but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it (which was to him more then a diuine ordinance) he pronounced their generall pardon, willing them to returne to their houses, and thereafter be more circumspect in their proceedings: which they did most of them with sharp marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chiefe that had bred this good alteration, he gaue him particular thanks, and withall willed him to make him know, how this frenzie had entred into the people.
Clinias purposing indeede to tell him the trueth of all, sauing what did touch himselfe, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his wound, Now by this blood (said he) which is more deare to me, then al the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety: this tong (perchance vnfortunate, but neuer false) shall not now begin to lie vnto my Prince, of me most beloued. Then stretching out his hād, and making vehement countenances the vshers to his speches, in such maner of tearms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birth-day, in the goodly greene two mile hence before the city of Enispus, to do honour to the day, were a four or fiue thousand people (of all conditiōs, as I think) gathered together, spending al the day in dancings & other exercises: and whē night came, vnder tents and bowes making great cheare, and meaning to obserue a wassaling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I thinke, that made him euer since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which sounded the first trūpet to this rude Alarū. For that barbarous opiniō being generally amōg thē, to think with vice to do honor, & with actiuitie in beastlines to shew abundāce of loue, made most of them seeke to shew the depth of their affection in the depth of their draught. But being once wel chafed with wine (hauing spent al the night, and some peece of the morning in such reuelling) & imboldned by your absented maner
of liuing, there was no matter their eares had euer heard of that gr
•
w not to be a subiect of their winie conference. I speake it by proofe: for I take witnes of the Gods (who neuer leaue periuries vnpunished) that I often cried out against their impudency, and (when that would not serue) stopt mine ea
•
es, because I woulde not be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to haue mine eares and eies defiled. Publike affairs were mingled with priuate grudges neither was any man thought of wit, that did not pretende some cause of mislike. Rayling was counted the fruite of freedome, and saying nothing had his vttermoste prayse in ignoraunce. At the length, your sacred person (alas) why did I liue to h
•
are it? alas howe do I breath to vtter it? But your commandement doth not onely enioine obedience, but giue me force: your sacred person (I say) fell to be their table-talke: a proud word swelling in their stomacks, & disdainful reproches against so great a greatnes, hauing put on the shew of greatnes in their little mindes: till at length the very vnbrideled vse of wordes hauing increased fire in their mindes (which God wott thought their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to condemne their owne want of knowledge) they descended (O neuer to be forgotten presumption) to a direct mislike of your liuing from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their far-fetched constructions. But the summe was, you disdained them: and what were the pompes of your estate, if their armes mainteyned you not? Who woulde call you a Prince, if you had not a people? When certaine of thē of wretched estates, & worse minds (whose fortunes change could not impaire) began to say, that your gouernment was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had leuied among them) had beene spent; why none but great men and gentlemen could be admitted into counsel, that the cōmons (forsooth) were too plain headed to say their opinnions: but yet their blood and sweat must maintaine all. Who could tell whether you were not betraied in this place, where you liued? nay whether you did liue or no? Therefore that it was time to come and see; and if you were here, to know (if Arcadia were growne lothsome in your sight) why you did not ridde your selfe of the trouble? There woulde not want those that woulde take so faire a cumber in good parte. Since the Countrie was theirs, and the gouernement an adherent to the countrie, why should they not consider of the one as well as inhabite the other? Nay rather (said they) let vs beginne that, which all Arcadia will followe. Let vs deliuer our Prince from daunger of practises, and our selues
•
rom want of a Prince. Let vs doo that, which all the rest think. Let it be said, that we onely are not astonished with vaine titles, which haue their
•
orce but in our force. Lastly, to haue saide and heard so much, was as dangerous, as to haue attempted: and to attempt they had the glorious name of liberty with them. These words being spokē (like a furious storme) presently carried away their wel inclined brains. What I, & some other of the honester sort could do, was no more thē if with a puffe of breath, one should goe about to make a saile goe against a mightie winde: or, with one hand, stay the ruine of a mighty wall. So generall grewe this madnes among them, there needed no drumme, where each man cried, each spake to other that spake as fast to him, and the disagreeing sounde of so many voices was the chiefe token of their vnmeete agreement. Thus was their banquette turned to a battaile, their winie mirthes to bloudie rages, and the happie praiers for your life to monstrous thre
•
tning of your estate; the solemnizing your birth-day, tended to haue been the cause of your funerals. But as a dronken rage hath (besides his wickednes)
that follie, that the more it seekes to hurt, the lesse it considers how to bee able to hurt: they neuer wayed how to arme themselues but tooke vp euery thinge for a weapon, that furie offered to their handes. Many swordes, pikes, and billes there were: others tooke pitchforkes and rakes, conuerting husbandrie to souldierie some caught holde of spittes (thinges seruiceable for life) to bee the instruments of death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to vse it (as he coulde) to your mischiefe. Thus armed, thus gouerned forcing the vnwilling, and hartening the willing, adding furie to furie, and encresing rage with running, they came headlong towarde this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolued in his owne hart, what was the vttermost he would doo when he came hether. But as mischiefe is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthning one euill by an other, and so multiplie in it selfe, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his owne weight: so to their mindes (once passed the boundes of obedience) more and more wickednes opened it selfe, so that they who first pretended to preserue you, then to reforme you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding hart) now thought no safetie for them, without murdering you, So as if the Goddes (who preserue you for the preseruation of Arcadia) had not shewed their miraculous power, and that they had not vsed for instruments, both your owne valour (not fit to be spoken of by so meane a mouth as mine) and some (I must confesse) honest minds, (whom alas why should I mention, since what wee did, reached not to the hundred part of our duetie?) our handes (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we haue cause to reioyce that we are Arcadians.
With that the fellow did wring his hands, and wrang out teares: so as Basilius, that was not the sharpest pearcer into masked minds, toke a good liking to him; and so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistres. And therefore pitying his wound willed him to get him home, and looke well vnto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were any further depth in this matter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepheards being come (for that day was appointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principall noble-men, and cities there abouts, to make through-inquirie of this vprore, and withall, to place such garrisons in all the townes and villages neere vnto him, that he might thereafter keepe his solitary lodge in more security, vpon the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, hauing them in a redines for him.
This, Clinias (hauing his eare one way when his eye was an other) had perceiued and therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedie resolution, or els it were daunger those examinations would both discouer, and ruine her: and so went his way, leauing that little companie with embracements, & praising of Zelmanes excellent proceeding, to shew, that no decking sets foorth any thing so much, as affection. For as, while she stoode at the discretion of those vndiscreete rebelles, euery angry countenance any of them made, seemed a knife layde vpon their owne throates; so vnspeakable was now their ioy, that they sawe (besides her safetie and their owne) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her meanes, in whom they had placed al their delightes. What examples Greece coulde euer alledge of witte and fortitude, were set in the ranke of trifles, being compared to this action.
But as they were in the midst of those vnfained ceremonies, a Gitterne, ill-played
on, accompanyed with a hoarce voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merie in spite Fortune) made them looke the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this.
A Hatefull cure with hate to heale:
A blooddy helpe with blood to saue:
A foolish thing with fooles to deale:
Let him be bob'd that bobs will haue.
But who by meanes of wisdome hie
Hath sau'd his charge? it is euen I.
Let others deck their pride with skarres,
And of their wounds make lame showes:
First let them die, then passe the starres,
When rotten Fame will tell their blowes.
But eye from blade, and eare from crie:
Who hath sau'd all? it is euen I.
They had soone found it was Dametas, who came with no lesse lifted vp countenance, then if hee had passed ouer the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point hee thought hee had perfourmed, in vsing the naturall strength of the caue. But neuer was it his dooing to come so soone thence, till the coast were more assuredly cleare: for it was a rule with him, that after a great storme there euer fall a fewe droppes before it bee fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how much care doth sollicite a Louers harte) vsed this occasion of going to her parentes and sister, indeed aswell for that cause, as being vnquiet, till her eye might bee assured how her shepheard had gone through the daunger. But Basilius with the sight of Pamela (of whom almost his heade otherwise occupied, had l
•
ft the wonted remembrance) was sodainly striken into a deuout kind of admiration, remembring the oracle, which (according to the fauning humour of false hope) hee interpreted now his owne to his owne best, and with the willing blindnesse of affection (because his minde ran wholly vpon Zelmane) he thought the Gods in their oracles did principally minde her.
But as he was deepely thinking of the matter, one of the shepheardes tolde him, that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For hauing by chaunce rid not farre of the little desert, he had heard of this vprore, and so was come vpon the spurre (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he coulde) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was glad of it; but not willing to haue him, nor any other of the Noble men, see his Mistresse) hee himselfe went out of the Lodge, and so giuing order vnto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnestnesse beginning to entreate him to leaue of this solitarie course (which already had bene so daungerous vnto him) Well (saide Basilius) it may be ere long I will condiscend vnto your desire. In the meane time, take you the best order you can to keepe me safe in my solitatinesse. But, (said he) do
•
you remember, how earnestly you wrote vnto me, that I should not bee moued by that Oracles authoritie, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answered Philanax) for though it pleased you not as then to let me knowe, what the Oracles
words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceipt) one degree of reputation, it suffised me to knowe, it was but an Oracle, which led you from your owne course. Well (said Basilius) I will now tell you the wordes; which before I thought not good to doo; because when all the euents fall out (as some already haue done) I may charge you with your incredulitie. So he repeated them in this sorte.
THy elder care shall from thy carefull face
By princely meane be stolne, and yet not lost.
Thy yonger shall with Natures blisse embrace
And vncouth loue, which Nature hateth most.
Both they themselues vnto such two shall wed,
Who at thy beer, as at a barre, shall plead;
Why thee (a liuing man) they had made dead.
In thy owne seate a forraine state shall fit.
And ere that all these blowes thy head doo hit,
Thou, with thy wife, adultry shall commit.
For you forsoth (said he) whn I told you, that some supernaturall cause sent mee strange visions, which being confirmed with presagious chaunces, I had gon to Delphos, & there receiued this answere, you replied to me, that the onely supernaturall causes were the humors of my body, which bred such melancholy dreames; and that both they framed a mind ful of conceipts, apt to make presages of things, which in themselues were meerly chaunceable: and with all as I say, you remember what you wrote vnto me, touching authoritie of the Oracle: but now I haue some notable triall of the truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largly communicate vnto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is alredy performed; I mean that a forraine state should possesse my throne. For that hath been done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruine, but to my preseruation. But when he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pully, to make the clocke of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite then the onely admiration of vertue breedeth: which his faithfull hart inwardly repining at, made him shrinke away as soone as he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which Basilius had enioyned vnto him.
Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by him selfe construing the oracle, that in that hee saide, his elder care should by Princely meane bee stolne away from him, and yet not lost, it was now perfourmed, since Zelmane had as it were robd from him the care of his first begotten childe, yet was it not lost, since in his harte the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Natures blisse embrace the loue of Zelmane, because he had so commaunded her for his sake to doo; yet shoulde it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hatefull an opposite to the iealousie hee thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his seate hee deemed by her already perfourmed: but that which most comforted him, was his interpretation of the adulterie, which hee thought hee shoulde commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should haue to his wife. The point of his daughters marriage, because it threatned his death withall, he determined to preuent with keeping them (while he liued) vnmaried. But hauing as hee thought, gotten thus much vnderstanding of the Oracle, hee determined for three daies after to perfourme certaine rites to Apollo:
and euen then began with his wife and daughters to singe this Hymne, by them yearely vsed.
APollo great, whose beames the greater world do light,
And in our little world do cleare our inward sight,
Which euer shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,
Whose lights do euer liue, but in our darkenesse fade;
Thou God, whose youth was deckt with spoile of Phythons skin:
(So humble knowledge can throw downe the snakish sinne)
Latonas sonne, whose birth in paine and trauaile long
Doth teach, to learne the good what trauailes do belong:
In trauaile of our life (a short but tedious space)
While brickle houreglas runnes, guide thou our panting pace:
Giue vs foresightfull mindes: giue vs minds to obaye
What fore sight tels; our thoughts vpon thy knowledge staye.
Let so our fruites grow vp that nature be maintainde:
But so our hartes keepe downe, with vice they be not stainde.
Let this assured holde our iudgemeuts ouertake,
That nothing winnes the heauen, but what doth earth forsake.
Assone as he had ended his deuotion (all the priuiledged shepheards being now come) knowing well inough he might lay all his care vpon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the tast of this passed tumult, with some rural pastimes. For which while the shepheards prepared themselues in their best manner, Basilius tooke his daughter
Philoclea aside, and with such hast, as if his eares hunted for wordes, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolution, as to heare him, whensoeuer he would speake; and further then that (she said) as Zelmane had not graunted, so she nether did, nor euer woulde desire. Basilius kist her with more then fatherly thankes, and straight (like a hard-kept warde new come to his lands) would faine haue vsed the benefite of that graunt, in laying his sicknes before his onely physition. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with her selfe, how to beare her selfe toward him) made him in a few words vnderstand, that the time in respect of the company was vnfit for such a parley, and therefore to keepe his braines the busier, letting him vnderstand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distresse (whom in her trauaile she had knowne, and bene greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Plangus had told him; Because she said (and she said truly) she was ful of care for that Ladie, whose desart (onely except an ouer-base choise) was nothing agreeable to misfortune. Basilius glad that she would commaund him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the vnfitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to graunt a fitter obeyed her in this manner.
Madam (said he) it is verie true, that since yeares enhabled mee to iudge what is, or is not to be pitied. I neuer saw any thing that more moued me to iustifie a vehement compassion in my selfe, then the estate of that Prince, whom strong against all his owne afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceaue you haue heard) yet true and noble loue had so pulled downe, as to lie vnder sorrow for another In so much
as I coulde not temper my long idle pen in that subiect, which I perceiue you haue seene. But then to leaue that vnrepeated, which I finde my daughters haue told you It may please you to vnderstand, since it pleaseth you to demaund, that Antiphilus being crowned, and so left by the famous Princes Musidorus and Pyrocles (led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these prouinces of Greece making a dishonorable enquirie after that excellent prince Pyrocles alreadie perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and deliuered from the presence of those two, whose vertues (while they were present
•
good schoolmasters) suppressed his vanities, hee had not strength of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discouering what maner of man hee was. But streight like one caried vp to so hie a place, that hee looseth the discerning of the ground ouer which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyond the leuell of his owne discourse, that remembring onely that himselfe was in the high seate of a King, he could not perceiue that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorne follies, and repine at iniuries. But imagining no so true propertie of souereigntie, as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoeuer pleased his fansie, he quickly made his kingdome a Teniscourt, where his subiects should be the balles; not in truth cruelly, but licenciously abusing them, presuming so far vpon himselfe, that what he did was liked of euery bodie: nay, that his disgraces w
•
re fauours, & all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceyue the boundes of great matters (suddenly borne into an vnknowne Ocean of absolute power) hee was swayed with all (hee knew not howe) as euery winde of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, then that poysonous sugar of flatterie: which some vsed, out of the innate basenesse of their hart, straight like dogges fawning vppon the greatest; others secretely hating him, and disdayning his great rising so suddenly, so vndeseruedly (finding his humour) bent their exalting him onely to his ouerthrow; like the bird that caries the shell-fish high, to breake him the easier with his fall. But his mind) being an apt matter to receaue what forme their amplifying speeches would lay vpon it) daunced so prettie a musicke to their false measure, that he thought himselfe the wysest, the woorthyest, and best beloued, that euer gaue honour to a royal tytle. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out vnblushing pedegrees, that made him not only of the blood royal, but true heyre though vniustly dispossest by Eronas auncestours, & like the foolish birde, that when it so hides the heade that it sees not it selfe, thinks no bodie else sees it: so did he imagine, that no bodie knew his basenesse, while he himselfe turned his eyes from it.
Then vainenesse (a meager friend to gratefulnesse) brought him so to despise Erona,
as of whome he had receiued no benefit, that within halfe a yeeres mariage he began to pretend barrennesse: & making first an vnlawfull law of hauing mo wiues then one, hee still keeping Erona, vnder-hand, by messages sought Artaxia, who no lesse hating him, then louing (as vnluckie a choise) the naughtie King Plexirtus, yet to bring to passe what shee purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till alreadie his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia, and had made that, but the foundation of more, and more monarchies; as if fortune had only gottē eies to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of all the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the neuer sufficiently praised Pyrocles & Musidorus, hee would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking to haue bene yong-mastered among those great estates, as he was amōg his abusin
•
vnderlings. But so many valorous Princes, in-deed farre neerer to disdain
him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing vpon no true ground, inwardly) out of countenance with himselfe, till his seldom-comfortlesse
•
latterers (perswading him, it was enuie and feare of his expected greatnes) made him hast away from that company, and without further delay appointed the meeting with Artaxia; so incredibly blinded with the ouer-bright shining of his roialty, that he could thinke such a Queene would be content to be ioined-patent with an other to haue such an husband. Poore Erona to all this obeied, either vehemency of affection making her stoop to so ouerbase a seruitude, or astonished with an vnlooked-for fortune, dull to any behoofefull resolution, or (as many times it falles out euen in great harts when they can accuse none but themselues) desperatly bent to maintaine it. For so went she on in that way of her loue, that (poore Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Artaxia, that she was content; for the publike good, to be a second wife, and yeeld the first place to her: nay to extoll him, and euen woo Artaxia for him.
But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brothers sake) was content to hide her hate, till she had time to shew it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of vertue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, euen met them halfe way in excusing her brothers murder, as not being principall actors; and of the otherside, driuen to what they did by the euer-pardonable necessitie: and so well handled the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himselfe all that she would haue him thinke. And so a solemne enteruiew was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she ouerran him in loue) when he came euen readie to embrace her, shewing rather a countenaunce of accepting then offering, they came forth, and (hauing much aduauntage both in number, valure, and fore-preparation) put all his companie to the sword; but such as could flie away. As for Antiphilus she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hasting backe toward her brothers tombe, vpon which she ment to sacrifice them; making the loue of her brother stand betwene her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated.
But great diuersitie in them two quickly discouered it selfe for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatnesse but outward, that taken away, was readie to fall faster then calamitie could thrust him; with fruitlesse begging of life (where reason might well assure him his death was resolued) and weake bemoning his fortune, to giue his enemies a most pleasing musique, with manie promises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little minde. But Erona sad indeede, yet like one rather vsed, then new fallen to sadnesse (as who had the ioyes of her hart alreadie broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shun that ende of miserie, speaking little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus, remembring his guiltlesnesse, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slue him: to the disgrace of men, shewing that there are women both more wise to iudge what is to be expected, and more constant to beare it when it is happened.
But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, and her sadnesse by her beautie, made this noble prince Plangus, who (neuer almost from his cousin
Artaxia) was now present at Eronaes taking, to perceyue the shape of louelinesse more perfectly in wo, then in ioyfulnesse (as in a picture which receiues greater life by the darkenesse of shadowes, then by more glittering colours) and
seeing to like; and liking to loue; and louing straight to feele the most incident effects of loue, to serue and preserue. So borne by the hastie tide of short leysure, he did hastily deliuer together his affection, and affectionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mencioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attend) desired him if he loued her, to shew it, in finding some way to saue Antiphilus.
For her, she found the world but a wearisome stage vnto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his loue in so vnfruitfull a place, as could not loue it selfe: but for a testimonie of constancie, and a sutablenes to his word, to do so much comfort to her minde, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saued. He tolde me how much he argued against her tende
•
ing him, who had so vngratefully betraied her, and foolishly cast away himselfe. But perceiuing she did not only bend her very good wits to speake for him against herselfe, but when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet loue would needes make it-selfe a cause, and barre her rather from hearing, then yeeld that she should yeeld to such arguments: he likewise in whom the power of Loue (as they say of spirits) was subiect to the loue in her, with griefe consented, & (though backwardly) was diligent to labor the help of Antiphilus: a man whom he not only hated, as a traitour to Erona, but enuied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Loue sware, his hart, in spite of his hart, should make him become a seruant to his riuall. And so did he, seeking all the meanes of perswading Artaxia, which the authority of so neere, and so vertuous a kinsman could giue vnto him. But she to whom the eloquēce of hatred had giuen reuenge the face of delight, reiected all such motions; but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chiefe citie, where she kept them with intention at the birth-day of Tiridates (which was very nere) to execute Antiphilus, and at the day of his death (which was about halfe a yeere after) to vse the same rigor towards Erona. Plangus much grieued (because much louing) attempted the humors of the Lycians, to see, whether they would come in with forces to succor their Princesse. But there the next inheritor to the crowne (with the true play that is vsed in the game of kingdōs) had no sooner his mistres in captiuity, but he had vsurped her place, and making her odious to her people, because of the vnfit electiō she had made, had so left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, perswading the iusticing her, because that vniustice might giue his title the name of iustice. Wāting that way, Plangus practised with some deere friends of his, to saue Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much neerer then Eronaes, and that he well found, she had twisted her life vpō the same threed with his, he determined first to get him out of prison: and to that end hauing prepared all matters as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old seruants to haue well-marking eyes, he cōferred with Antiphilus, as (by the aucthoritie he had) he found meanes to do; and agreed with him of the time & maner, how he should by the death of some of his iaylors escape. But all being well ordered, and Plangus willinglie putting himselfe into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, sweld redie to breake, while it was full of the winde of prosperitie, that being out, was so abiected, as apt to be trode on by euery bodie) whē it came to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparant likelihood to auoid the vttermost harme, his hart fainted, and (weake foole, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) gat a conceit, that with bewraying this practise, he might obtaine pardon: and therefore, euen a little before Plangus should haue come vnto him, opened the whole practise to him that had the
charge, with vnpittyed teares idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias commaundement, then against her will escape: yet begging life vpon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she would lay vpon him. His keeper prouided accordingly, so that when Plangus came, he was like, himselfe to haue bene entrapped: but that finding (with a luckie in-sight) that it was discouered, he retired; and (calling his friendes about him) stood vpon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most vngratefull, considering that her brother and she, had not only preserued him against the malice of his father, but euer vsed him much liker his birth, then his fortune) sent forces to apprehend him. But he among the martiall men had gotten so great loue, that he could not onely keep himselfe from her malice, but worke in their mindes a compassion of Eronas aduersitie.
But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get no bodie to ioyne with him, the contempt of him hauing not bene able to qualifie the hatred; so that Artaxia might easilie vpon him perfourme her will; which was (at the humble suite of all the women of that citie) to deliuer him to their censure, who mortally hating him for hauing made a lawe of Polygamie, after many tortures, forst him to throw himselfe from a high Pyramis, which was built ouer Tiridates tombe, and so to end his false-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be vnkinde.
But Plangus well perceiuing that Artaxia staied onely for the appointed day, that the faire Eronas bodie, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimonie, how deepely her brothers death was engrauen in her brest, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his vertue (though a stranger) had tied vnto him, by force to giue her libertie. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gaue more courage then her sexe did feare, vsed her regall authoritie (the most she could) to suppresse that sedition, and haue her will: which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeede (as all men witnes) is one of the best captaines (both for policie and valour) that are trained in the schoole of Mars, in a conflict ouerthrew Artaxias power, though of far greater number: and there toke prisoner a base sonne of her brothers, whom she deerly affected, and then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoeuer it was) that Erona did: and happy was that threatning for her; for els Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.
But now (some principall noble-men of that countrie interposing themselues) it was agreed, that all persons els fullie pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) deliuered, she should be put into the hands of a principall nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, vpon oath, that if by the day two yeare from Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, and ouercome two knights, whom she appointed to maintain her quarrell against Erona and them, of hauing by treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they came, and had the victorie, she should be deliuered; but vpon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all toke solemne oath, and so the peace was concluded; they of Plangus partie forcing him to agree, though he himselfe the sooner condiscended, knowing the courtesie of those two excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrell, and their power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to resist. But Artaxia was more, and vpon better ground, pleased with this action; for she had euen newly receiued newes frō
Plexirtus, that vpon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held her selfe sure of the match.
But poore Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his partie (as most times it falles out in like case) hungry of any conditions of peace, accepted them; and then obteined leaue of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visite Erona,
whom he found full of desperate sorow, not suffering, neither his vnworthinesse, nor his wrongs, nor his death (which is the naturall conclusion of all worldly acts) either to couer with forgetfulnes, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him: but euen glorying in affliction, and shunning all comfort, she seemed to haue no delight, but in making herselfe the picture of miserie. So that when Plangus came to her, she fell in deadlie traunces, as if in him she had seene the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her vertue striuing) she did at one time acknowledge her selfe bound, and professe her selfe iniured; in steede of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wisht her to doo) crauing nothing but some speedie death to follow, her (in spite of iust hate) beloued Antiphilus.
So that Plangus hauing nothing but a rauisht kisse from her hand at their parting, went away toward Greece, whetherward he vnderstoode the Princes were embarked. But by the way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had euer fauoured, so much the rather, as he had perfourmed the conditions of her mariage, in bringing to their deserued end, her greatest enemies: withall, thanking the sea, in such tearmes, as he might well perceiue, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus shippe. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he tooke shippe himselfe, and came into Laconia, enquiring, and by his enquirie finding, that such a shippe was indeede with fight, and fire, perished, none (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly determined that they were cast away: for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly els haue bene a large witnesse to the contrarie. Full of griefe with that, for the losse of such, who left the world poore of perfection: but more sorie for Eronas sake, who now by them could not be relieued. A new aduertisement from Armenia ouertooke him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message from the Noble-man who had Erona in ward, giuing him to vnderstand, that since his departure, Artaxia (vsing the benefite of time) had besieged him in his castell, demaunding present deliuery of her, whom yet for his faith giuen, he would not, before the day appointed, if possibly he could resist, which he foresaw, long he should not do for want of victuall, which he had not so wisely prouided, because he trusted vpon the generall oth taken for two yeares space: and therefore willed him to make hast to his succour, and come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Armenia, were consumed, and Artaxia had encreased her might by mariage of Plexirtus,
who now crowned King there, stickt not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus, as hauing iust cause thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her sonne his nephew, and his owne daughter Zelmane, all whose losse he vniustly charged them withall, and now openly stickt not to confesse, what a reuenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himselfe what to doo. For to returne to Armenia was vaine, since his friends there were vtterly ouerthrowne. Then thought he of going to his father; but he had already (euen since the
death of his stepmother, and brother) attempted the recouering his fauour, and all in vaine. For they, that had before ioined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for them if he returned, and therefore kept him still (with new forged suspicions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reseruing that for a worke of longer time, then the sauing of Erona could beare, determined to goe to the mighty and good King Euarchus: who lately hauing (to his eternall fame) fully, not onely conquered his enemies, but established good gouernment in their countries, he hoped he might haue present succour of him, both for the iustnes of the cause, & reuenge of his childrens death, by so hainous a treason murthered. Therefore with diligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to find him, the most ouerthrowne man with griefe, that euer I hope to see againe. For still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eies; such an apprehension he had taken of her daunger; which in despite of all the comfort I could giue him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was moued not to let him passe, till he had made full declaration, which by peeces my daughters and I haue deliuered vnto you. Faine he would haue had succour of my selfe, but the course of my life being otherwise bent, I onely accompanied him with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus: for my part hauing had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I told you) I set them downe Dialogue-wise, in such manner as you haue seene. And thus, excellent Ladie, I haue obeyed you in this storie; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the straunge power of Loue, and what is due to his authoritie, you shall exercise therein the true noblenesse of your iudgement, and doo the more right to the vnfortunate Historian. Zelmane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured her selfe, Euarchus would not spare to take in hand the iust deliuering of her, ioyned with the iust reuenge of his childrens losse) hauing now what she desired of Basilius, to auoide his further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepheards to begin, whom she saw allready ready for them.
The second Eclogues.
THE rude tumult of the Enispians gaue occasion to the honest shepheards to begin their Pastoralls this day with a daunce, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seuen shepheards (which were named the reasonable shepheards) ioined themselues; foure of them making a square, and the other two going a little wide of either side, like wings for the maine battell, and the seuenth man formost, like the forlorne hope, to begin the skirmish. In like order came out the seuen appassionated shepheards, all keeping the pase of their foot by their voice, and sundry consorted instruments they held in their armes. And first, the formost of the Reasonable side began to sing:
R.
Thou Rebell vile, come, to thy master yeeld.
And the other that met with him answered:
P.
No, Tyrant, no: mine, mine shall be the field,
Reason.
Can Reason then a Tyraunt counted bee?
Passion.
If Reason will, that Passions be not free.
R.
But Reason will, that Reason gouerne most.
P.
And Passion will, that Passion rule the rost.
R.
Your will is will, but Reason reason is.
P.
Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth misse.
R.
Whome Passion leades vnto his death is bent.
P.
And let him die, so that he die content.
R.
By nature you to Reason faith haue sworne.
P.
Not so, but fellow-like togither borne.
R.
Who Passion doth ensue, liues in annoy.
P.
Who Passion doth forsake, liues void of ioy.
R.
Passion is blinde, and treades an vnknowne trace.
P.
Reason hath eyes to see his owne ill case.
Then as they approched nearer, the two of Reasons side, as if they shot at the other, thus sang:
R.
Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light?
P.
And is not Reason dimme with Passions might?
R.
O foolish thing, which glory doth destroy.
P.
O glorious title of a foolish toy.
R.
Weakenes you are, dare you with our strength fight?
P.
Because our weaknes weakeneth all your might.
R.
O sacred Reason, helpe our vertuous toiles.
P.
O Passion, passe on feeble Reasons spoiles.
R.
We with our selues abide a daily strife.
P.
We gladly vse the sweetnesse of our life.
R.
But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breede.
P.
We now haue peace, your peace we doo not neede.
Then did the two square battailes meete, and in steed of fighting embrace one another, singing thus:
R.
We are too strong: but Reason seekes no blood.
P.
Who be too weake, do feigne they be too good.
R.
Though we cannot orecome, our cause is iust.
P.
Let vs orecome, and let vs be vniust.
R.
Yet Passions yeeld at length to Reasons stroke.
P.
What shall we winne by taking Reasons yoke.
R.
The ioyes you haue shall be made permanent.
P.
But so we shall with griefe learne to repent.
R.
Repent in deed, but that shall be your blisse.
P.
How know we that, since present ioyes we misse?
R.
You know it not: of Reason therefore know it.
P.
No Reason yet had euer skill to show it.
R.
Then let vs both to heauenly rules giue place.
P.
Which Passions kill, and Reason do deface.
Then embraced they one another, and came to the King, who framed his prayses of them according to Zelmanes liking; whose vnrestrained parts, the mind & eie
had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose looke was not short in well requiting it, although shee knew it was a hatefull sight to her iealouse mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus, for the good partes he foūd aboue his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruites of his wit, though in a subiect which he himselfe most of all other despised: & so entred to speach with him in the manner of this following Eclogue.
Dicus. Dorus.
Dicus.
Dorus, tell me, where is thy wonted motion,
To make these woods resound thy lamentation?
Thy sainte is dead, or dead is thy deuotion,
For who doth holde his loue in estimation,
To witnes that he thinkes his thoughts delicious,
Thinks to make each thing badge of his sweet passion.
Dorus.
But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious
Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable?
Who others vertue doubt, themselues are vicious,
Not so; although my mettals were most mutable,
Her beames haue wrought therein most faire impression,
To such a force some chaunge were nothing sutable.
Dicus.
The harte well set doth neuer shunne confession:
If noble be thy bandes, make them notorious:
Silence doth seeme the maske of base oppression.
Who glories in his loue, doth make Loue glorious:
But who doth feare, or bideth muet wilfully,
Shewes, guilty harte doth deeme his state opprobrious.
Thou then, that fram'st both wordes and voice most skilfully,
Yeeld to our eares a sweet and sound relation,
If Loue tooke thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.
Dorus.
If sunnie beames shame heau'nly habitation,
If three-leau'd grasse seeme to the sheepe vnsauorie,
Then base and sowre is Loues most high vocation.
Or if sheepes cries can helpe the Sunnes owne brauerie,
Then may I hope, my pipe may haue abilitie,
To helpe her praise, who decks me in her slauerie,
No, no: no words ennoble selfe nobilitie,
As for your doubts, her voice was it deceaued me,
Her eye the force beyond all possibilitie.
Dicus.
Thy words well voyc'd, well grac'de had almost heaued me,
Quite from my selfe to loue Loues contemplation;
Till of these thoughts thy sodaine ende bereaued me,
Goe on therefore, and tell vs by what fashion
In thy owne proofe he gets so straunge possession,
And how possest he strengthens his invasion.
Dorus.
Sight is his roote, in thought is his progression,
His child hood wonder, prentizeship attention,
His youth delight, his age the soules oppression
Doubt is his sleepe, he waketh in inuention,
Fancie his foode, his clothing is of carefulnes;
Beautie his booke, his play louers dissention:
His eyes are
•
urious search, but vailde with warefulnesse:
His wings desire oft clipt with desperation.
Largesse his hands could neuer skill of sparefulnesse
But how he doth by might, or by perswasion
To conquere, and his conquest how to ratifie,
Experience doubts, and schooles hold disputation.
Dicus.
But so thy sheepe may thy good wishes satisfie
With large encrease, and wooll of fine perfection,
So she thy loue, her eyes thy eyes may gratifie;
As thou wilt giue our soules a deare refection,
By telling how she was, how now she framed is
To helpe, or hurt in thee her owne infection.
Dorus.
Blest be the name, wherewith my mistres named is:
Whose wounds are salues, whose yokes please more then pleasure doth
Her staines are beames; vertue the fault she blamed is,
The hart, eye, eare here onely find his treasure doth.
All numbring artes her endlesse graces number not:
Time, place, life
•
witt, scarcely her rare gifts measure doth.
Is she in rage? so is the Sunne in sommer hot,
Yet haruest brings. Doth she, alas! absent her selfe?
The Sunne is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not.
But when to giue some grace she doth content herselfe,
O then it shines, then are the heau'ns distributed,
And Venus seemes, to make vp her, she spent herselfe.
Thus then (I say) my mischiefes haue contributed
A greater good by her diuine reflection,
My harmes to me, my blisse to her attributed.
Thus she is fram'd: her eyes are my direction,
Her loue my life, her anger my distruction,
Lastly what so she is, that's my protection.
Dicus.
Thy safetie sure is wrapped in destruction,
For that construction thine owne wordes do beare.
A man to feare a womans moodie eye,
Makes Reason lie a slaue to seruile sense,
A weake defence where weaknes is thy force:
So is remorse in follie dearly bought.
Dorus.
If I had thought to heare blasphemous wordes,
My brest to swords, my soule to hell haue solde
I rather would, then thus mine eares defile
With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed.
O heards take heed; for I a woolfe haue found,
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill,
His breast doth fill with earth of others woe,
And loden so pulls downe, pull'd downe destroyes.
O sheepheards boyes, eschue these tongues of venome,
Which do enuenome both the soule and senses.
Our best defenses are to flie these adders.
O tongues like ladders made to clime dishonour,
Who iudge that honour, which hath scope to slander!
Dicus.
Dorus you wander farre in great reproches,
So Loue encroches on your charmed reason,
But it is season for to end our singing.
Such anger (bringing: as for me, my fancie
In sicke-mans frenzie rather takes compassion,
Then rage for rage: rather my wish I send to thee,
Thou soone may haue some helpe, or change of passion,
She oft her lookes, the starres her fauour bend to thee,
Fortune store, Nature health, Loue grant perswasion.
A quiet mind none but thy selfe can lend to thee,
Thus I commend to thee all our former Loue.
Dorus
•
Well do I proue, errour lies oft in zeale,
Yet it is seale, though errour, of true hart.
Nought could impart such heates to friendly mind,
But for to find thy words did her disgrace,
Whose onely face the little heauen is,
Which who doth misse his eyes are but delusions,
Barr'd from their chiefest obiect of delightefulnesse
Throwne on this earth the Chaos of confusions;
As for thy wish, to my enraged spitefulnesse
The louely blow, with rare reward, my prayer is
Thou mayst loue her that I may see thy sightfulnesse.
The quiet mind (whereof my selfe empairer is,
As thou doest thinke) should most of all disquiet me
Without her loue, then any mind who fairer is,
Her onely cure from surfet woes can diet me:
She holdes the ballance of my contentation:
H
•
r cleared eyes, nought els, in stormes can quiet me,
Nay rather then my ease discontentation
Should breed to her
•
let me for aye deiected be
From any ioy, which might her griefe occasion.
With so sweet plagues my happie harmes infected be:
Paine willes me die
•
yet will of death I mortifie:
For though life irkes, in life my loues protected be,
Thus for each change my changelesse hart I fortifie.
When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especiallie of Zelmane, who neuer forgat to giue due cōmendatiōs to her friend Dorus, Basilius called for Lamon to end his discourse of Strephon & Klaius, wherwith the other day he marked Zelmane to haue bene exceedingly delighted. But him sicknes had staied from that assemblie
•
which gaue occasion to Histor and Damon two yonge shepheards, taking vpō them the two frendly riualles names, to present Basilius with some other of their complaints Ecloge-wise, and first with this double Sestine.
Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon.
Yee Goteheard Gods, that loue the grassie mountaines,
Ye nymphes that haunt the springs in pleasant vallies,
Ye Satyrs ioyde with free and quiet forrests,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which to my woes giue still an early morning.
And drawes the dolor on till weary euening.
Klaius.
O Mercurie, foregoer to the euening,
O heauenly huntresse, of the sauage mountaines,
O louelie starre, entit'led of the morning,
While that my voice doth fill these woefull vallies,
Vouchsafe your silent eares to plaining musique,
Which oft hath Echo tir'de in secrete forrests.
Strephon.
I that was once free burges of the forrests,
Where shade from Sunne, and sports I sought at euening,
I that was once esteem'd for pleasant, musique,
Am banisht now among the monstrous mountaines
Of huge despaire, and foule afflictions vallies,
Am growne a shrich owle to my selfe each morning.
Klaius.
I that was once delighted euery morning,
Hunting the wilde inhabiters of forrests,
I that was once the musique of these vallies,
So darkened am, that all my day is euening,
Hart broken so, that molehilles seeme high mountaines,
And fill the vales with cries in steed of musique.
Strephon.
Long since alas, my deadly swannish musique
Hath made it selfe a crier of the morning,
And hath with wailing strength clim'd highest mountaines:
Long since my thoughts more desert be then
•
orrests:
Long since I see my ioyes come to their euening,
And state throwne downe to ouertroden vallies.
Klaius.
Long since the happie dwellers of these vallies,
Haue praide me leaue my
•
trange exclaming musique,
Which troubles their dayes worke, & ioyes of euening,
Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning:
Long since my thoughts cha
•
e me like beasts in forrests,
And make me wish my selfe layd vnder mountaines.
Strephon.
Me seemes I see the high and stately mountaines,
Transforme themselues to lowe deiected vallies:
Me seemes I heare in these ill changed forrests,
The Nightingales doo le
•
rne of Owles their musique:
Me seemes I feele the comfort of the morning
Turnde to the mortall serene of an euening.
Klaius.
Me seemes I see a filthy clowdie euening,
As soone as Sunne begins to clime the mountaines:
Me seemes I feele a noysome sent, the morning
When I doo smell the flowers of these vallies:
Me seemes I heare, when I doo heare sweete musique,
The dreadfull cries of murdred men in forrests.
Strephon.
I wish to fire the trees of all these forrests,
I giue the Sunne a last farewell each euening,
I curse the fidling finders out of musicke:
With enuie I doo hate the loftie mountaines;
And with dispite despise the humble vallies:
I doo detest night, euening, day, and morning.
Klaius.
Curse to my selfe my praier 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 hate my selfe in sight of mountaines,
And stoppe mine eares, lest I grow mad with musicke.
Strephon.
For she whose parts maintainde a perfect musique
Whose beautie shin'de more then the blushing morning,
Who much did passe in state the stately mountaines,
In streightnes past the Cedars of the forrests,
Hath cast me wretch into eternall euening,
By taking her two Sunnes from these darke vallies.
Klaius.
For she, to whom compar'd, the Alpes are vallies,
She, whose lest word brings from the spheares their musique,
At whose approche the Sunne rose in the euening,
Who where she went bare in her forhead morning,
Is gone, is gone, from these our spoyled forrests,
Turning to desarts our best pastur'de mountaines.
Strephon.
These mountaines witnesse shall, so shall these vallies,
These forrests eke, made wretched by our musique,
Klaius.
Our morning hymne is this, and song at euening.
But, as though all this had bene but the taking of a taste of their wailings, Strephon againe begā this Dizaine, which was answered vnto him in that kind of verse which is called the crowne.
Strephon. Klaius.
Strephon.
I Ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes:
Despise delight am tyr'd with thought of ease:
I turne my minde to all formes of annoyes,
And with the chaunge of them my fancie please,
I studie that which may me most displease,
And in despite of that displeasures might,
Embrace that most, that most my soule destroyes.
Blinded with beames, fell darkenes is my sight:
Dwell in my ruines, feede with sucking smarte
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte.
Klaius.
I thinke from me, not from my woes to parte,
And loth this time, call'd life, nay thinke, that life
Nature to me for torment did emparte;
Thinke, my harde haps haue blunted deaths sharpe knife,
Not sparing me, in whom his workes be rife:
And thinking this, thinke nature, life, and death
Place Sorrowes triumph on my conquerd harte,
Whereto I yeeld, and seeke none other breath,
But from the sent of some infectious graue:
Nor of my fortune ought, but mischieue craue,
Strephon.
Nor of my fortune ought but mischieue craue,
And seeke to nourish that, which now containes
All what I am: if I my selfe will saue,
Then must I saue, what in me chiefely raignes,
Which is the hatefull web of sorrowes paines.
Sorrow, then cherish me, for I am sorrow:
No being now, but sorrowe I can haue:
Then decke me as thine owne; thy helpe I borrowe,
Since thou my riches art, and that thou haste
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste.
Klaius.
Enough to make a fertill minde lie waste,
Is that huge storme, which powres it selfe on me:
Hailestones of teares, of sighes a monstrous blast,
Thunders of cries; lightnings my wilde lookes be,
The darkned heau'n my soule, which nought can see.
The flying sprites which trees by rootes vp teare,
Be those despaires, which haue my hopes quite wast.
The difference is; all folkes those stormes forbeare
•
But I cannot; who then my selfe should flie.
So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie.
Strephon.
So close vnto my selfe my wrackes doo lie,
Both cause, effect, beginning, and the ende
Are all in me: what helpe then can I trie?
My ship, my selfe, whose course to loue doth bende,
Sore beaten doth her mast of comfort spend:
Her cable, Reason, breakes from anchor, Hope:
Fancie, her tackling, torne away doth flie:
Ruine, the winde, hath blowne her from her scope:
Brused with waues of Cares, but broken is
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse.
Klaius.
On rocke, Despaire, the buriall of my blisse,
I long do
•
plowe with plough of deepe desire:
The seed Fast meaning is, no truth to misse:
I harow it with Thoughts, which all conspire
Fauour to make my chiefe and onely hire.
But, woe is me, the yeare is gone about,
And now I faine would reape, I reape but this
Hatefully growne, Absence new sprongen out.
So that I see, although my sight empaire,
Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire.
Strephon.
Vaine is their paine, who labour in despaire.
For so did I, when with my angle Will,
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo faire.
Eu'n then Despaire did Hope already kill
•
Yet fancie would perforce employ his skill,
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught,
Lamde with the angle, which it selfe did beare,
And vnto death, quite drownde in dolours, brough
•
To death, as then disguisd in her faire face.
Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase.
Klaius.
Thus, Thus alas, I had my losse in chase,
When first that crowned Basiliske I knewe,
Wose footesteps I with kisses oft did trace,
Till by such hap, as I must euer rue,
Mine eyes did light vpon her shining hue,
And hers on me, astonisht with that sight.
Since then my hart did loose his wonted place,
Infected so with her sweet poysons might,
That, leauing me for dead, to her it went:
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent.
Strephon.
But ah her flight hath my dead reliques spent,
Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me,
Yet liuing still in her, while her beames lent
Such vitall sparke, that her mine eyes might see.
But now those liuing lights absented be,
Full dead before, I now to dust shall fall,
But that eternall paines my soule haue hent,
And keepe it still within this body thrall:
That thus I must, while in this death I dwell,
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell.
Klaius.
In earthly fetters feele a lasting hell
Alas I doo; from which to finde release,
I would the earth, I would the heauens sell.
But vaine it is to thinke these paines should cease,
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.
O faire, ô onely faire, from thee alas,
These foule, most foule, desastres to me fell;
Since thou from me (o me) ô Sunne didst passe.
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toyes
I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes.
Strephon.
I ioy in griefe, and doo detest all ioyes
But now an ende, (O Claius) now an ende:
For euen the hearbes our hatefull musique stroyes,
And from our burning breath the trees do bende.
So well were these wailefull complaints accorded to the passions of all the princely hearers, while euery one made what he heard of another the ballance of his owne fortune, that they stood a long while striken in a sad and silent consideration of them. Which the olde Geron no more marking then condemning in them, desirous to set foorth what counsailes the wisedome of age had layde vp in store against such fancies (as he thought) follies of youth (yet so as it might not apeare that his wordes respected them) bending himselfe to a young shepheard named Philisides, (who neither had daunced nor song with them, and had all this time layne vpon the ground at the foote of a Cypresse tree,
leaning vpon his elbowe with so deepe a melancoly that his sences caried to his minde no delight from any of their obiects) he strake him vpon the shoulder, with a right old mans grace, that will seeme liuelier then his age will afford him, And thus began vnto him his Ecloge.
Geron. Philisides.
Geron.
VP, vp Philisides, let sorrowes goe,
Who yelds to woe, doth but encrease his smart.
Do not thy hart, to plaintfull custome bring,
But let vs sing, sweet tunes do passions ease,
An olde man heare, who would thy fancies raise.
Philisides.
Who minds to please the minde drownd in annoyes
With outward ioyes, which inly cannot sincke,
As well may thincke with oyle to coole the fire:
Or with desire to make such foe a frend,
Who doth his soule to endlesse malice bend.
Geron.
Yet sure an end, to each thing time doth giue,
Though woes now liue, at length thy woes must dye.
Then vertue try, if she can worke in thee
That which we see in many time hath wrought,
And weakest harts to constant temper brought.
Philisides.
Who euer taught a skillesse man to teach,
Or stop a breach, that neuer Cannon sawe?
Sweet vertues lawe barres not a causefull mone.
Time shall in one my life and sorrowes end,
And me perchaunce your constant temper lend.
Geron.
What can amend where physick is refusde?
The witts abusde with will no counsayle take.
Yet for my sake discouer vs thy griefe.
Oft comes reliefe when most we seeme in trappe.
The starres thy state, fortune may change thy happe.
Philisides.
If fortunes lappe became my dwelling place,
And all the starres conspired to my good,
Still were I one, this still should be my case,
Ruines relique, cares web, and sorrowes foode:
Since she faire fierce to such a state me calls,
Whose wit the starres, whose fortune fortune thralls.
Geron.
Alas what falls are falne vnto thy minde?
That there where thou confest thy mischiefe lyes
Thy wit dost vse still still more harmes to finde.
Whome wit makes vaine, or blinded with his eyes,
What counsell can preuaile, or light giue light?
Since all his force against himselfe he tries.
Then each conceit that enters in his sight,
Is made, forsooth, a Iurate of his woes,
Earth, sea, ayre, fire, heau'n, hell, and gastly sprite.
Then cries to sencelesse things, which neither knowes
What ayleth thee, and if they knew thy minde
Would scorne in man (their king) such feeble show's.
Rebell, Rebell, in golden fetters binde
This tyran Loue; or rather do suppresse
Those rebell thoughts which are thy slaues by kinde.
Let not a glittring name thy fancie dresse
In painted clothes, because they call it loue.
There is no hate that can thee more oppresse.
Begin (and halfe the worke is done) to proue
By rising vp, vpon thy selfe to stand.
And thinck she is a she, that doth thee moue.
He water plowes, and soweth in the sand,
And hopes the flickring winde with net to holde,
Who hath his hopes laid vp in womans hand.
What man is he that hath his freedome solde?
Is he a manlike man, that doth not know man
Hath power that Sex with bridle to withhold?
A fickle Sex, and trew in trust to no man,
A seruant Sex, soone prowde if they be coi'de
And to conclude thy mistresse is a woman.
Philisides.
O gods, how long this old soole hath annoi'd
My wearied eares! O gods yet graunt me this,
That soone the world of his false tong be void.
O noble age who place their only blisse
In being heard vntill the hearer dye
Vttring a serpents minde with serpents hisse.
Then who will heare a well autoris'd lye,
(And pacience hath) let him goe learne of him
What swarmes of vertues did in his youth flye
Such hartes of brasse, wise heads, and garments trim
Were in his dayes: which heard, one nothing heares,
If from his words the falshood he do skim.
And herein most their folly vaine appeares
That since they still alledge, When they were yong:
It shews they fetch their wit from youthfull yeares
Like beast for sacrifice, where saue the tong
And belly nought is left, such sure is he,
This life-deadman in this old dungeon flong.
Olde houses are throwne downe for new we see:
The oldest Rammes are culled from the flocke:
No man doth wish his horse should aged bee.
The ancient oke well makes a fired blocke:
Old men themselues, doe loue young wiues to choose:
Only fond youth admires a rotten stocke.
Who once a white long beard, well handle does,
(As his beard him, not he his beard did beare)
Though cradle witted, must not honnor loose.
Oh when will men leaue off to iudge by haire,
And thinke them olde, that haue the oldest minde,
With vertue fraught and full of holy feare!
Geron.
If that thy face were hid, or I were blinde,
I yet should know a young man speaketh now,
Such wandring reason in thy speech I finde.
He is a beast, that beastes vse will allowe
For proofe of man, who sprong of heau'nly fire
Hath strongest soule, when most his raynes do bowe
•
But fondlings fonde, know not your owne desire
Loth to dye young, and then you must be olde,
Fondly blame that to which your selues aspire.
But this light choller that doth make you bolde,
Rather to wrong then vnto iust defence,
Is past with me, my bloud is waxen colde.
Thy words, though full of malapert offence,
I way them not, but still will thee aduize
How thou from foolish loue maist purge thy sense.
First thinke they erre, that thinke them gayly wise,
Who well can set a passion out to show:
Such sight haue they that see with goggling eyes.
Passion beares high when puffing wit doth blowe,
But is indeed a toy, if not a toy,
True cause of euils, and cause of causelesse woe.
If once thou maist that fancie glosse destroy
Within thy selfe, thou soone wilt be ashamed
To be a player of thine owne annoy.
Then let thy minde with better bookes be tamed,
Seeke to espie her faultes as well as praise,
And let thine eyes to other sports be framed.
In hunting fearefull beastes, do spend some dayes,
Or catch the birds with pitfalls, or with lyme,
Or trayne the fox that traines so crafty laies.
Ly but to sleepe, and in the earely prime
Seeke skill of hearbes in hills, haunt brookes neere night,
And try with bayt how fish will bite sometime.
Goe graft againe, and seeke to graft them right,
Those pleasant plants, those sweete and frutefull trees,
Which both the pallate, and the eyes delight.
Cherish the hiues of wisely painfull Bees:
Let speciall care vpon thy flock be staid,
Such actiue minde but seldome passion sees.
Philisides.
Hath any man heard what this old man said?
Truly not I, who did my thoughts engage,
Where all my paines one looke of her hath paid.
Geron was euen out of countenance, finding the words he thought were so wise, winne so little reputation at this young mans hands; and therefore sometimes looking vpon an old acquaintance of his called Mastix, one of the repiningest fellows in the world, and that beheld no body but with a minde of mislike (saying still the world was amisse, but how it should be amended, he knew not) sometimes casting his eyes to the ground, euen ashamed to see his gray haires despised, at last he spied his two dogges, whereof the elder was called Melampus, and the younger Laelaps (in deede the iewells he euer had with him) one brawling with another; which occasion he tooke to restore himselfe to his countenance, and rating Melampus, he began to speake to his doggs, as if in them a man should finde more obedience then in vnbridled young men.
Geron. Mastix.
Geron.
DOwne, downe Melampus; what? your fellow bite?
I set you ore the flock I dearly loue,
Them to defend, not with your selues to fight.
Do you not thincke this will the wolues remoue
From former feare, they had of your good mindes,
When they shall such deuided weakenesse proue?
What if Laelaps a better morsell finde?
Then you earst knew? rather take part with him
Then iarle: lo, lo, euen these how enuie blindes.
And then Laelaps let not pride make thee brim
Because thou hast thy fellow ouergone,
But thanke the cause, thou seest, where he is dim.
Here Laelaps, here, in deed against the foen
Of my good sheepe, thou neuer trew's time tooke:
Be as thou art, but be with mine at one.
For though Melampus like a wolfe doo looke,
(For age doth make him of a woluish hew)
Yet haue I seene when well a wolfe he shooke.
Foole that I am that with my dogges speake grewe.
Come neer
•
good Mastix, tis now full tway score
Of yeeres (alas) since I good Mastix knewe.
Thou heardst euen now a yong man snebb me sore,
Because I red him, as I would my son.
Youth will haue will: Age must to age therefore.
Masttix.
What maruaile is in youth such faults be done,
Since that we see our saddest Shepheards out
Who haue their lesson so long time begonne?
Quickly secure, and easilie in doubt,
Either a sleepe be all if nought assaile,
Or all abroade if but a Cubb start out.
We shepeheards are like them that vnder saile
Doe speake high wordes, when all the coaste is cleare,
Yet to a passenger will bonnet vaile.
I con thee thanke to whom thy dogges be deare,
But commonly like currs we them entreate,
Saue when great need of them perforce apeare.
Then him we kisse, whom before we beatt
With such intemperance, that each way grows
Hate of the firste, contempt of later feate:
And such discordtwixt greatest shepheards flowes,
That sport it is to see with howe greate art
By iustice worke they their owne faultes disclose:
Like busie boyes, to winne their tutors harte,
One saith, He mockes; the other saith, he playes;
The third his lesson mist, till all do smarte.
As for the rest, howe shepeheardes spend their daies,
At blowe point, hotcocles, or els at keeles
While, Let vs passe our time each shepeheard saies.
So small accompt of time the shepeheard feeles
And doth not feele, that life is nought but time
And when that time is paste, death holdes his heeles.
To age thus doe they draw there youthfull pryme,
Knowing no more, then what poore tryall showes,
As fishe tryall hath of muddy slyme.
This paterne good, vnto our children goes,
For what they see, their parents loue or hate
Their first caught sence prefers to teachers blowes.
These cocklinges cockred we be waile to late,
When that we see our ofspring gaily bent,
Wemen man-wood, & men effeminate.
Geron.
Fy man, fy man, what wordes hath thy tonge lent?
Yet thou art mickle warse then ere was I,
Thy too much zeale, I feare thy braine hath spent.
We ost are angrier, with the feeble flie
For busines, where it pertaines him not,
Then with the poisno'us todes that quiet lie.
I pray thee what hath ere the Parret gott,
And yet they say he talkes in greate mens bowers?
A Cage (guilded perchaunce) is all his lott.
Who of his tongue the lickowr gladly powrs,
A good foole call'd with paine, perhapps may be,
But euen for that shall suffer mightie Lowers.
Let swannes example siker serue for thee,
Who once all birdes, in sweetly-singing past,
But now to silence turn'd his minstralsie.
For he woulde sing, but others were defaste;
The peacockes pride, the pyes pild stattery,
Cormoraunts glutt, Kites spoile, king fishers waste.
The Falcons fercenes, Sparrows letchery
The Cockows shame, the Gooses good intent,
Euen turtle toutcht he with hypocrisie.
And worse of other more, till by assent
Of all the birdes, but namely those were grieued,
Of fowles there called was a parliament.
There was the swan of dignitie depriued,
And statute made he neuer shoulde haue voice,
Since when I thinke he hath in silence liued.
I warne thee therefore (since thou maist haue choice)
Let not thy tonge become a firy matche,
No sword soe bytes as that euill toole annoyes.
Lett our vnpartiall eyes a litle watche
Our owne demeane, and soone we wondre shall
That huntinge faultes, our selues we did not catch.
Into our mindes let vs a little fall,
And we shall find more spottes then Leopards skinne.
Then who makes vs such iudges ouer all?
But farewell nowe, thy fault is no great sinne,
Come, come my currs, tis late I will goe in.
And away with his doggs streight he went as if he would be sure to haue the laste worde: all the assemblie laughing at the lustines of the olde fellowe who departed muttering to himselfe he had sene more in his daies then twentie of them. But Basilius, who neuer before had heard Philisides (though hauing seldome failed to beat these metings) desired him hee woulde begin some Ecloge with some other of the shepheardes according to the accustomed guise. Philisides though very vnwilling, at the Kings cōmaundemēt of
•
red to sing with Thyrsis. But he directly refused him, seing, he should within few dayes be maried to the faire Kala; and since he had gotten his desire he would sing no more. Then the king willed Philisides to declare the discourse of his owne fortunes vnknowen to them as being a stranger in that countrie but hee praied the King to pardon him, the time being farre to ioyfull to suffer the rehearsall of his miseries. But to satisfie Basilius someway, hee began an Eclogue betwixt himselfe and the Echo, framing his voice so in those desert places as what wordes he would haue the Echo replie vnto, those he woulde sing higher then the rest; and so, kindelie framed a disputation betwixt himselfe and it, which with these hexam eters in the following order he vttered.
Philisides. Echo.
Faire Rocks, goodly riuers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? Peace,
Peace? what barrs me my tongue? who is it that comes me so ny? I.
Oh! I do know what guest I haue mett; it is Echo. 't is Echo.
Well mett Echo, aproche: then tell me thy will too. I will too.
Echo, what do I gett yelding my sprite to my grieues? Grieues.
What medecin may I finde for a griefe that draw's me to death? Death.
O poisonous medecin! what worse to me can be then it? It.
In what state was I then, when I tooke this deadly disease? Ease.
And what manner a mind which had to that humor a vaine? Vaine.
Hath not Reason enough vehemence the desire to reproue? Proue.
Oft proue I: but what salue, when Reason seeks to be gone? One
Oh! what is it? what is it that may be a salue to my Loue? Loue.
What do louers seeke for, long seeking for to enioy? Ioy.
What be the ioyes which for to enioy they went to the paines? Paines.
Then to an earnest Loue what doth best victorie lend? Ende.
End? but I can neuer end, loue will not giue me the leaue? Leaue.
How be the minds dispos'd that can not tast thy physick? Sick.
Yet say againe thy aduise forth' eu'lls that I told thee? I told thee.
Doth th'infected wretch, of his harme th' extremity know? No.
But if he know not his
•
arms what guides hath he whil'st he be blind? Blind.
What blinde guides can he haue that leanes to a fancy? A fancy.
Can fancies want eies, or he fall that steppeth aloft? Oft.
What causes first made these torments on me to light? Light.
Can then a cause be so light that forceth a man to go die? Yea.
Yet tell what light thinge I had in me to draw me to die? Eye.
Eysight made me to yeelde, but what first pierst to my eies? Eies.
Eies hurters, eies hurt but what from them to me fall's? Fall's.
But when I first did fal, what brought most fall to my hart? Arte.
Arte? what can be that art that thou dost meane by thy speche? Speche.
What be the fruites of speaking arte? what growes by the words? Words.
O much more then words: those words seru'd more me to blesse. Lesse.
Oh when shall I be knowne, wher most to be knowne I do longe? Long.
Long be thy woes for such newes, but how reck's she my thoughts? Oughts.
Then then what do I gaine, since vnto hir will I do winde? Winde.
Winde, tempests, & stormes, yet in ende what giues she desire? Ire,
Silly rewarde! yet among women hath she of vertu the most, Most.
What great name may I giue to so heau'nly a woman? A woe-man,
Woe, but seems to me ioy, that agrees to my thought so. I thought so.
Think so, for of my desired blisse it is only the course. Curse.
Curs'd be thy selfe for cursing that which leades me to ioies. Toies.
What be the sweet creatures wher lowly demaunds be not heard? Hard.
What makes them be vnkind? speake for th' hast narroly pride? Pride.
Whence can pride come there, since springs of beawty be thence? Thence,
Horrible is this blasphemy vnto the most holy. O lie.
Thou list false Echo, their minds as vertu be iust, Iust.
Mock'st thou those Diamonds which only be matcht by the gods? Ods.
Ods? what an ods is their since them to the heau'ns I prefer? erre.
Tell yet againe me the names of these faire form'd to do eu'lls. Deu'lls.
Deu'lls? if in hell such deu'lls do a bide, to the hells I do go. Go.
Philisides was commended for the placing of his Echo, but little did hee regarde their praises, who had sett the foundation of his honour there, where hee was most despisde: and therefore retorning againe to the traine of his desolate pensiuenes, Zelmanes seing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrayned conceates did now burst out of prison: she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing, but to Philocleas eares, threw downe the burden of her minde in Anacreous kinde of verses.
My muse what ail's this ardour
To blase my onely secretts?
Alas it is no glory
To sing my owne decaid state.
Alas it is no comfort,
To speake without an answere.
Alas it is no wisdome
To shew the wound without cure,
My muse what ail's this ardour?
Mine eys be dym, my lyms shake,
My voice is hoarse, my throte scerchte,
My tong to this my roofe cleaues,
My fancy amazde, my thought dull'd,
My harte doth ake, my life faints,
My sowle beginnes to take leaue.
So greate a passion all feele,
To think a soare so deadly
I should so rashly ripp vp.
My muse what ail's this ardour?
If that to sing thou arte bent
Go sing the fall of old, Thebes
The warres of ougly Centaurs,
The life, the death of Hector
So may the songe be famous,
Or if to loue thou art bent,
Rocount the rape of Europe,
Adonis end, Venus nett
The sleepy kisse the moone stale:
So may thy song be pleasant.
My muse what ail's this ardour
To blase my onely secretts?
Wherein do only flowrish
The sorry fruites of anguish.
The song thereof a last will,
The tunes be cryes, the words plaints,
The singer is the songs theame
When no eare can haue ioy,
Nor ey receaue due obiect
Ne pleasure here, ne fame gett.
My muse what ail's this ardour?
Alas she saith I am thine,
So are thy pains my pains too.
Thy heated harte my seat is
Wherein I burne thy breath is
My voice, too hott to keepe in,
Besides lo here the auther
Of all thy harmes: Lo here she,
That only can redresse thee,
Of her I will demaund helpe.
My muse I yeeld, my muse singe,
But all thy songe herein knitt,
The life we leade is all loue:
The loue we holde is all death,
Nor ought I craue to feede life,
Nor ought I seeke to shun death,
But onely that my goddesse
My life my death do counte hers.
Basilius when shee had fully ended her song, fell prostrate vpon the ground, and thanked the Gods they had preserued his life so longe, as to heare the very musicke they themselues vsed, in an earthly body. And then with like grace to Zelmane neuer
left intreating her till she had (taking a Lyra Basilius helde for her) song these Pha
•
e
•
ciakes
Reason, tell me thy mind, if here be reason
In this strange violence, to make resistance.
Where sweet graces erect the stately banner
Of vertues regiment, shining in harnesse
Of fortunes Diademes, by beauty mustred.
Say then Reason, I say what is thy counsell?
Her loose haire be the shott, the breaste the pykes be,
Skowts each motion is, the hands be horsmen,
Her lipps are the riches the warres to maintaine,
Where well couched abides a coffer of pearle,
Her legges carriage is of all the sweet campe:
Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell?
Her cannons be her eys, myne eys the walls be,
Which at firste voly gaue too open entry,
Nor ramper did abide; my braine was vp blowne,
Vndermin'd with a speech the pearcer of thoughts.
Thus weakned by my selfe, no helpe remaineth
Say then Reason; I say, what is thy counsell?
And now fame the herald of her true honour,
Doth proclaime with a sound made all by mens mouths
That nature souerayne of earthly dwellers,
Commands all creatures, to yeeld obeysance
Vnder this, this her owne, her only dearling.
Say then Reason I say what is thy counsell?
Reason sighes but in end he thus doth answere.
Nought can reason auaile in heau'nly matters.
Thus natures Diamond receaues thy conquest,
Thus pure pearle, I do yeeld, my senses and soule.
Thus sweete paine, I do yeeld, what ere I can yeelde,
Reason looke to thy selfe, I serue a goddesse.
Dorus had long he thought kept silence from saying, somwhat which might tend to the glorie of her in whom all glory to his seeming was included, but nowe hee brake it, singing these verses called Asclepiadikes.
O sweet woods the delight of solitarines!
O how much I do like your solitarines!
where mans mind hath afreed consideration
Of goodnes to receiue louely direction.
Where senses do behold th'order of heau'nly hoste,
And wise thoughts do behold what the creator is:
Contemplation here holdeth his only seate:
Bowndedwith no limitts, borne with a wing of hope
Clymes euen vnto the starres, Nature is vnder it.
Nought disturbs thy quiet, all to thy seruice yeelds,
Each sight draws on a thought, thought mother of science,
Sweet birds kindly do graunt harmony vnto thee,
Faire trees shade is enough fortification,
Nor danger to thy selfe if be not in thy selfe.
O sweete woods the delight of solitarines!
O how much I do like your solitarines!
Here nor treason is hidd, vailed in innocence,
Nor enuies snaky ey, finds any harbor here,
Nor flatterers venomous insinuations,
Nor comming humorists puddled opinions,
Nor courteous ruin of proffered vsury,
Nor time pratled away, cradle of ignorance,
Nor causelesse duty, nor comber of arrogance,
Nor trifling title of vanity dazleth vs,
Nor golden manacles, stand for a paradise,
Here wrongs name is vnheard: slander a monster is
Keepe thy sprite from abuse, here no abuse doth haunte.
What man grafts in a tree dissimulation?
O sweete woods the delight of solitarines!
O how well I do like your solitarines!
Yet deare soile, if a soule closedin a mansion
As sweete as violetts, faire as lilly is,
Streight as Cedar, a voice staines the Cannary birds,
Whose shade safely doth hold, danger auoideth her:
Such wisedome, that in her liues speculation:
Such goodnes that in her simplicitie triumphs:
Where enuies snaky ey, winketh or els dyeth,
Slander wants aprelext, flattery gone beyond:
Oh! if such a one haue bent, to a lonely life,
Her stepps gladd we receaue, gladd we receaue her eys.
And thinke not she doth hurt our solitarines,
For such company decks such solitarines.
The other Shepeheards were offring themselues to haue continued the sportes, but the night had so quietlie spent the most parte of herselfe among them that the king for that time licēsed thē. And so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would much rather haue done the same for Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfett a sleepe in their bedd, for a trewe one there agonies could not aforde them. Yet there they Lay (so might they be moste solitarie for the foode of their thoughts) til it was neere noone the next day, after which Basilius was to continue his Appollo deuotions, and the other to meditate vpon their priuate desires.
The end of the second Eclogues.
THE THIRDE BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
THis last dayes danger, hauing made Pamalaes loue discerne, what a losse it should haue suffered, if Dorus had bene destroied, bred such tendernesse of kindnes in her toward him: that she could no longer keep loue from loking out through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner she had to her hart onely committed; so as finding not only by his speeches and letters, but by the pitifull oration of a languishing behauiour, and the easily discyphered character of a sorowfull face, that Dispaire began now to threaten him destruction, she grewe content both to pittie him, and let him see she pityed him: as well by making her owne beautifull beames to thawe awaye the former icinesse of her behauiour, as by entertaining his discourses (whensoeuer he did vse them) in the third person of Musidorus; to so farre a degree, that in the ende she said, that if she had bene the Princes, whom that disguised Prince had vertuously loued, she would haue requited his faith with faithfull affectiō: finding in her hart, that nothing could so hartily loue as vertue: with many mo words to the same sence of noble fauour, and chast plainnesse. Which when at the first it made that expected blisse shine vpō
Dorus; he was like one frozen with extremitie of colde, ouer-hastilye brought to a great fire, rather oppressed, then relieued with such a lightning of felicitie. But after the strength of nature had made him able to feele the sweetnes of ioyfulnes, that againe being a childe of Passion, and neuer acquainted with mediocrity, could not set bounds vpon his happines, nor be content to giue Desire a kingdome, but that it must be an vnlimitted Monarchie. So that the ground he stoode vpon being ouer-high in happines, and slippery through affection, he could not holde himselfe from falling into such an error, which with sighs blew al comfort out of his brest, & washt away all cheerfulnes of his cheer, with teares. For this fauour filling him with hope, Hope encouraging his desire, and Desire considering nothing, but oportunitie: one
time (Mopsa being called away by her mother, and he left alone with Pamela) the sudden occasion called Loue, and that neuer staide to aske Reasons leaue; but made the too-much louing Dorus take her in his armes, offering to kisse her, and as it were, to establish a trophee of his victorie. But she, as if she had bin ready to drink a wine of excellent tast & colour, which suddenly she perceiued had poison in it, so did she put him away frō her: loking first vp to heauen, as amazed to finde herselfe so beguiled in him; then laying the cruell punishment vpon him of angry Loue, and lowring beautie, shewing disdain, & a despising disdain, Away (said she) vnworthy man to loue, or to be loued. Assure thy self, I hate my selfe for being so deceiued; iudge then what I doo thee, for deceiuing me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of my indgement, and staine of my conscience. With that she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other, but a flood of teares) which she seemed not to mark (much lesse to pity) & chid her for hauing so left her alone.
It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it was euen a death, which then laid hold of Dorus: which certainly at that instant would haue killed him, but that the feare to tarrie longer in her presence (contrarye to her commaundement) gaue him life to cary himself away from her sight, and to run into the woods, where throwing himselfe downe at the foot of a tree, he did not fall to lamentation, for that proceeded of pittying) or grieuing for himself (which he did no way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himselfe. For finding himselfe not onely vnhappy, but vnhappy after being falne from all happines: and to be falne from all happines, not by any misconceiuing, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but to Pamela: he did not tender his owne estate, but despised it; greedily drawing into his minde, all conceipts which might more and more torment him. And so remained he two daies in the woods, disdaining to giue his bodie food, or his mind comfort, louing in himselfe nothing, but the loue of her. And indeede that loue onelye straue with the fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Dorus, it should also destroy the image of her that liued in Dorus: and whē the thought of that was crept in vnto him, it begā to win of him some compassion to the shrine of that image, & to bewaile not for himself (whō he hated, but that so notable a loue should perish. Thē
began he onely so far to wish his owne good, as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, though not the punishmēt: and the vttermost height he aspired vnto, was, that after his death she might yet pitie his error, & know that it proceeded of loue, & not of boldnes. That cōceipt found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yelded since he was banished her presēce, to seek some means by writing to shew his sorow and testifie his repētance. Therfore getting him the necessary instrumēts of writing, he thought best to coūterfait his hād (fearing that as already she knew his, she would cast it away as soon as she saw it) & to put it in verse, hoping that would draw her on to read the more, chusing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning: but neuer pen did more quakingly perform his office; neuer was paper more double moistned with inke & teares; neuer words more slowly maried together, & neuer the Muses more tired thā now with changes & rechanges of his deuises: fearing how to end, before he had resolued how to begin, mistrusting ech word, condemning eche sentence. This word was not significant, that word was too plain: this would not be cōceiued, the other would be ill cōceiued. Here Sorow was not enough expressed; there he seemed too much for his own sake to be sory. This sentēce rather shewed art, thē passion; that sē
tence rather foolishly passionate, thē forcibly mouing. At last, marring with mēding
and putting out better, then he left, he made an end of it; and being ended, was diuerse times readie to teare it: till his reason assuring him, the more he studied, the worse it grew, he folded it vp, deuoutly inuoking good acceptation vnto it; and watching his time, when they were all gone one day to dinner (sauing Mopsa) to the other lodge, stale vp into Pamelaes chamber, and in her standish (which first he kissed; and craued of it a safe and friendly keeping) left it there, to be seene at her next vsing her inke (himselfe returning againe to be true prisoner to desperate sorrow) leauing her standish vpon her beds head, to giue her the more occasion to marke it: which also fell out.
For she finding it at her after noone-returne, in another place then she left it, opened it. But when she saw the letter, her hart gaue her from whence it came. And therefore clapping it to againe, she went away from it, as if it had bene a contagious garment of an infected person: and yet was not long away, but that she wished she had read it, though she were loth to read it. Shall I (said she) secōd his boldnes so far, as to read his presumptuous letters? And yet (said she) he sees me not now to grow the bolder therby: And how can I tel, whether they be presumptuous? The paper came from him & therfore not worthy to be receiued? and yet the paper (she thought was not guiltie. At last, she concluded, it were not much amisse to looke it ouer, that she might out of his words pick some further quarrell against him. The
•
she opened it, and threw it away, and took it vp againe, till (ere she were aware) he
•
eyes would needs read it, conteining this matter.
VNto a caitife wretch, whom long affliction holdeth,
and now fully beleeues helpe to be quite perished;
Grant yet, grant yet a looke, to the last monument of his anguishe,
O you (alas so I finde) cause of his onely ruine.
Dread not a whit (O goodly cruell) that pittie may enter
into thy hart by the sight of this Epistle I send
•
And so refuse to beholde of these strange wounds the recitall,
least it might th'allure home to thy selfe to returne,
(Vnto thy selfe I do meane those graces dwell so within thee,
gratefulnes, sweetnes, holy loue, hartie regard)
Such thing cannot I seeke (Despaire hath giu'n me my answere
Despaire most tragicall clause to a deadly request)
Such thing cannot he hope, that knowes thy determinat hardnes;
hard like a rich marbell: hard, but a faire Diamond.
Can those eyes that of eyes drownd in most harty flowing teares,
(teares and teares of a man) had no returne to remorse;
Can those eyes now yeeld to the kind conceit of a sorow,
which inke onely relates, but ne laments, ne replies?
Ah, that, that I do I not conceiue (though that to my blisse were)
more then Nestors yeares, more then a Kings diademe.
Ah, that, that do I not conceiue; to the heauen when a mouse climes
then may I hope t'atchieue grace of a heauenly tiger.
But, but alas, like a man condemn'd doth craue to be heard speak
not that he hopes for amends of the desaster he feeles,
But finding th'approch of death with an inly relenting,
giues an adieu to the world, as to his onely delight:
Right so my boiling hart, enflam'de with s
•
re of a faire eye,
bubling out doth breath signes of his hugie dolours:
Now that he findes to what end his life, and loue be reserued,
and that he thence must part where to liue only he liu'd.
O faire, O fairest, are such thy triumphs to thy fairenesse?
can death beautie become? must I be such monument?
Must I be onely the marke, shall proue that vertue is angrie?
shall proue that fiercenes can with a white doue abide?
Shall to the world appeare that faith and loue be rewarded
with mortall disdaine, bent to vnendly reuenge?
Vnto reuenge? O sweete, on a wretch wilt thou be reuenged?
shall such high Plannets tend to the losse of a worme?
And to reuenge who doo bend, would in that kinde be reuenged,
as th'offence was done, and goe beyond if he can.
All my'offence was Loue: with Loue then must I be chastned,
and with more, by the lawes that to reuenge doo belong.
If that loue be a fault, more fault in you to be louely:
Loue ne
•
er had me opprest, but that I saw to be lou'd.
You be the cause that I loud: what Reason blameth a shadowe,
that with a body 't goes? since by a body it is.
If that Loue you did hate, you should your beauty haue hidden:
you should those faire eyes haue with a veile couered.
But fooole, foole that I am, those eyes would shine from a darke caue.
what veiles then doo preuaile, but to a more miracle?
Or those golden lockes, those lockes which lock me to bondage,
torne you should disperse vnto the blasts of a winde.
But foole, foole that I am, tho I had but a haire of her head found,
eu'n as I am, so I should vnto that haire be a thrall.
Or with faire hands-nailes (ô hand which nailes me to this death)
you should haue your face (since Loue is ill) blemished.
O wretch, what do I say? should that faire face be defaced?
should my too-much sight cause so true a Sunne to be lost?
First let Cimmerian darknes be my onel'habitacion:
first be mine eyes pulde out, first be my braine perished;
Ere that I should consent to doo so excessiue a dammage
vnto the earth, by the hurt of this her heauenly iewell.
O not, but such loue you say you could haue afoorded,
as might learne Temp'rance voide of a rages euents.
O sweet simplicitie: from whence should Loue be so learned?
vnto Cupid that boy shall a Pedante be found?
Well: but faultie I was: Reason to my Passion yeelded,
Passion vnto my rage, Rage to a hastie reuenge.
But what's this for a fault, for which such faith be abolisht,
such saith, so staineles, inuiolate, violent?
Shall I not? ô may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance,
what sweete ioyes I had once, and
•
hat a place I did hold?
Shall I not once obiect, that you, you graunted a fauour
vnto the man, whom now such miseries you awarde?
Bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which then to me giu'n were:
thinke what a world is now, thinke who hath altred her hart.
What? was I then worthie such good, now worthie such euill?
now fled, then cherished? then so nie, now so remote?
Did not a rosed breath, from lips more rosie proceeding,
say, that I should well finde in what a care I was had?
With much more: now what doo I finde, but Care to abhor me,
Care that I sinke in griefe, Care that I liue banished?
And banished doo I liue, nor now will seeke a recou'rie,
since so she will, whose will is to me more then a lawe.
If then a man in most ill case may giue you a farewell;
farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.
What this would haue wrought in her, she her selfe could not tell: for, before her Reason could moderate the disputatiō betwene Fauour & Faultines, her sister, and Miso, called her downe to entertaine Zelmane, who was come to visite the two sisters; about whom, as about two Poles, the Skie of Beautie was turned: while Gynecia wearied her bed with her melancholie sicknes, and made Misos shrewdnesse (who like a sprite, set to keep a treasure, bard Zelmane from any further conference) to be the Lieutenant of her iealousie: Both she and her husband, driuing Zelmane to such a streight of resolution, either of impossible graunting, or dangerous refusing, as the best escape she had, was (as much as she could) to auoyde their companie. So as, this day, being the fourth day after the vprore, (Basilius being with his sicke wife, conferring vpon such examinations, as Philanax, and other of his noblemen had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia with vehement suspition of giuing either flame or fuell vnto it) Zelmane came with her bodie, to find her mind, which was gone long before her, and had gotten his seate in Philoclea: who now with a bashfull cheerefulnesse (as though she were ashamed, that she could not choose but be glad) ioyned with her sis
•
er, in making much of Zelmane.
And so as they sate deuising how to giue more feathers to the wings of Time, there came to the lodge dore, sixe maides, all in one liuerie of skarlet petticotes, which were tuckt vp almost to their knees, the petticotes them selues being in many places garnished with leaues, their legges naked, sauing that aboue the anckles they had little black silke laces, vpon which did hang a few siluer belles: like which they had a little aboue their elbowes, vpon their bare armes. Vpon their haire they ware garlands of roses and gilliflowers; and the haire was so drest, as that came againe aboue the garlandes; enterchaunging a mutuall couering: so as it was doubtfull, whether the haire drest the garlandes, or the garlands drest the haire. Their breasts liberall to the eye: the face of the formost of them, in excellencie faire; and of the rest louely, if not beautifull: and beautifull might haue bene, if they had not suffered greedy Phaebus, ouer-often, and harde, to kisse them. Their countenaunces full of a gracefull grauitie; so as the gesture matcht with the apparrell, it might seeme a wanton modestie, and an entising sobernes. Each of them had an instrument of musick in their hands, which consorting their wel-pleasing tunes, did charge each eare with vnsensiblenes, that did not lend it self vnto them. The Musick entring alone into the lodge, the Ladies were all desirous to see frō whence so pleasant a guest was come: and therfore went out together; where
before they could take the paines to doubt, much lesse to aske the question of their qualitie, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet discreete demeanour) in this sort spake vnto them. Most excellent Ladies, (whose excellencies haue power to make cities enuie these woods, and solitarines to be accounted the sweetest companie) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, which as it comes frō Loue, so comes it from louely persons. The maides of all this coast of Arcadia, vnderstanding the often accesse that certaine shepheards of these quarters, are allowed to haue in this forbidden place; and that their rurall sports are not disdained of you, haue ben stird with emulation to them, & affectiō to you, to bring forth some thing, which might as well breed your contentment: and therefore hoping that the goodnes of their intention, & the hurtlesnes of their sex shal excuse the breach of the commandemēt in comming to this place vnsent for, they chose out vs, to inuite both your princely parents, and your selues, to a place in the woods about halfe a mile hence: where they haue prouided some such sports, as they trust your gratious acceptations will interpret to be delightfull. We haue bene at the other lodge, but finding them there, busied in weightier affaires, our trust is, that you yet will not denie the shining of your eies vpon vs. The Ladies stood in some doubt, whether they should goe or not, lest Basilius might be angry withall. But Miso (that had bene at none of the pastorals, & had a great desire to lead her old senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plainly, they should nor will nor choose, but go thether, and make the honest countrie people know, that they were not so squeamish as folkes thought of them. The Ladies glad to be warranted by her authoritie; with a smiling humblenesse obeied her: Pamela only casting a seeking looke, whether she could see Dorus (who poore wretch wandred halfe mad for sorrow in the woods, crying for pardon of her, who could not heare him) but indeed was grieued for his absence, hauing giuen the wound to him through her owne harte. But so the three Ladies & Miso went with those six Nymphes, conquering the length of the way with the force of musique, leauing only Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her countenāce, because her mother would not suffer her to shew her newskoured face among thē. But the place apointed (as they thought) met them halfe in their way, so well were they pleased with the sweete tunes & prettie conuersation of their inuiters. There found they in the midst of the thickest part of the wood, a litle square place, not burdened with trees, but with a boord couered, & beautified with the pleasantest fruites, that Sunburnd Autumne could deliuer vnto thē. The maids besought the Ladies to sit down and tast of the swelling grapes, which seemed great with child of Bacchus: and of the diuers coloured plums, which gaue the eye a pleasant tast before they came to the mouth. The Ladies would not shew to scorne their prouision, but eat, & dranke a little of their coole wine, which seemed to laugh for ioy to come to such lips.
But after the collation was ended, and that they looked for the cōming foorth of such deuises, as were prepared for them, there rusht out of the woods twentie armed men, who round about enuironed them, and laying hold of Zelmane before she could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods ouer the heads of all fower, and so muffled, by force set them on horsebacke and carried them away; the sisters in vaine crying for succour, while Zelmanes harte was rent in peeces with rage of the iniurie, and disdaine of her fortune. But when they had caried them a foure or fiue mile further, they lefte Miso with a gagge in her mouth, and bound hande and foote, so to take her fortune: and brought the three Ladies
(by that time that the Night seemed with her silence to conspire to their treason) to a castle about ten mile frō the Lodges: where they were fain to take a boat which wayted for them. For the castle stood in the midst of a great lake vpon a high rocke, where partly by Arte, but principallie by Nature, it was by all men estemed impregnable. But at the Castle gate their faces were discouered, & there were mett with a great number of torches, after whom the sisters knew their aunt in law, Cecropia. But that sight increased the deadly terrour of the Princesses, looking for nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked Cecropia: who yet came vnto them, making courtesie the outside of mischiefe, and desiring them not to bee discomforted: for they were in a place dedicated to their seruice, Philoclea (with a looke where Loue shined through the miste of Feare) besought her to be good vnto thē, hauing neuer deserued euill of her. But Pamelas high harte disdayning humblenesse to iniurie, Aunt, (said she) what you haue determined of vs I pray you doo it speedily: for my part I looke for no seruice, where I finde violence.
But Cecropia (vsing no more words with them) conueyed them all three to seuerall lodgings (Zelmanes harte so swelling with spite, that she could not bring foorth a word) and so lefte them: first taking from them their kniues, because they should do themselues no hurte, before she had determined of them: and then giuing such order that they wanted nothing but libertie, & comfort, shee went to her sonne, who yet kept his bed, because of his wounde hee had receiued of Zelmane, & tolde him, whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was but euen then returned from far countries, where he had wonne immortal fame, both of courage & courtesie, when he met with the Princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so as hee was vtterly ignorant of all his mothers wicked deuises, to which he would neuer haue consented, being (like a rose out of a brier) an excellent sonne of an euill mother: and now when hee heard of this, was as much amazed, as if he had seen the Sunne fall to the earth. And therefore desired his mother that shee would tell him the whole discourse, howe all these matters had happened. Sonne (saide shee) I will doo it willingly, & since all is done for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoeuer I might be ashamed to tell it straungers, who would thinke it wickednes, yet what is done for your sake (how euill soeuer to others) to you is vertue. To begin then euen with the beginning, this doting foole Basilius that now raignes, hauing liued vnmaried till hee was nigh threescore yeares old (and in all his speaches affirming, and in all his dooinges assuring, that he neuer would marrie) made all the eyes of this country to bee bent vpon your father, his onely brother (but younger by thirty yeares) as vpon the vndoubted successour: being indeed a mā worthy to raigne, thinking nothing enough for himselfe: where this goose (you see) puts downe his head, before there be any thing neere to touch him. So that he holding place and estimation as heyre of Arcadia, obteyned me of my father the King of Argos, his brother helping to the conclusion, with protesting his bachelerly intention: for else you may be sure the King of Argos, nor his daughter would haue suffered their Royall bloud to bee stained with the base name of subiection. So that I came into this countrie as apparant Princesse thereof, and accordingly was courted, and followed of all the Ladies of this countrie. My porte and pompe did well become a King of Argos daughter: in my presence their tongues were turned into eares, and their eares were captiues vnto my tongue. Their eyes admired my Maiestie, & happy was he or she, on whom I would suffer the beames therof to fall. Did I goe to church? it seemed the very Goddes
wayted for me, their deuotions not being solemnized till I was ready. Did I walke abroad to see any delight? Nay, my walking was the delight it selfe: for to it was the concourse; one thrusting vpon another, who might shewe him selfe most diligent and seruiceable towardes me: my sleepes were inquired after, and my wakings neuer vnsaluted: the very gate of my house full of principall persons, who were glad, if their presents had receaued a gratefull acceptation. And in this felicitie wert thou borne, the very earth submitting it self vnto thee to be troden on as by his Prince; & to that passe had my husbands vertue (by my good help) within short time brought it, with a plot we laide, as wee should not haue needed to haue waited the tedious worke of a naturall end of Basilius; when the heauens (I thinke enuying my great felicity) then stopt thy fathers breath, when he breathed nothing but power and soueraigntie. Yet did not thy orphancie, or my widdowhood, depriue vs of the delightfull prospect, which the hill of honour dooth yeeld, while expectation of thy succession did bind dependencies vnto vs.
But before, (my sonne) thou wert come to the age to feele the sweetnesse of authoritie, this beast (whom I can neuer name with patience) falsely and foolishly married this Gynecia, then a young girle, and brought her to sit aboue me in al feasts to turne her shoulder to me-warde in all our solemnities. It is certaine, it is not so great a spite to bee surmounted by straungers, as by ones owne allies. Thinke then what my minde was, since withall there is no question: The fall is greater from the first to the second, then from the second to the vndermost. The rage did swell in my harte, so much the more as it was faine to bee suppressed in silence, and disguised with humblenes. But aboue all the rest, the griefe of grieues was, when with these two daughters (now thy prisoners (she cut of all hope of thy successiō. It was a tedious thing to me; that my eies should loke lower then any bodies, that (my self being by) anothers voice then mine, should be more respected. But it was in supportable vnto me, to think that not only I, but thou shouldst spend al thy time in such misery and that the Sun should see my eldest son lesse then a Prince. And though I had ben a sainct I could not choose, finding the chaunge this chaunge of fortune bred vnto me, for now from the multitude of followers, silēce grew to be at my gate, & absence in my presence. The guesse of my mind could preuaile more before; then now many of my earnest requests. And thou (my deare sonne) by the fickle multitude no more then an ordinary person (borne of the mud of the people) regarded. But I (remembring that in all miseries weeping becomes fooles, and practize wise folks) haue tried diuers meanes to pull vs out of the mire of subiection. And though many times Fortune failed me, yet did I neuer faile my selfe. Wild beastes I kept in a caue harde by the lodges, which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their pastorales, I as then liuing in my house hard by the place, and against the houre they were to meet (hauing kept the beastes without meate) then let them loose, knowing that they would seeke their food there, and deuoure what they founde. But blind Fortune hating sharpe-sighted inuentions, made them vnluckily to bee killed. After I vsed my seruant Clinias to stir a notable tumult of country people: but those loutes were too grosse instruments for delicate conceits. Nowe lastly, finding Philanax his examinations grow daungerous, I thought to play double or quit; and with a sleight I vsed of my fine-witted wench Artesia, with other maids of mine, woulde haue sent these goodly inheritrixes of Arcadia, to haue pleaded their cause before Pluto, but that ouer-fortunatly for thē, you made me know the last day how vehemētly this childish
passion of loue, doth torment you. Therfore I haue brought them vnto you, yet wishing rather hate then loue in you. For Hate often begetteth victory; Loue commonly is the instrument of subiection. It is true, that I would also by the same practise haue entrapped the parentes, but my maides failed of it, not daring to tary long about it. But this sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the vndoubted inheritor, and Basilius will not long ouer-liue this losse.
O mother (said Amphialus) speak not of doing them hurt, no more thē to mine eyes, or my hart, or if I haue any thing more deare then eyes, or hart vnto me. Let others finde what sweetnes they will in euer fearing, because they are euer feared: for my part, I will think my selfe highlye intitled, if I may be once by Philoclea accepted for a seruant. Well (said Cecropia) I would I had borne you of my minde, as wel as of my body: then should you not haue suncke vnder these base weaknesses. But since you haue tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happie my policy hath brought matters to such a passe, as you may both enioy affection, and vpon that builde your soueraigntie. Alas (said Amphialus) my hart would faine yeeld you thanks for setting me in the way of felicitie, but that feare killes thē in me, before they are fully borne. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can I be pleased? if she count it vnkindenes, shal I giue tokens of kindnes? perchance she condemnes me of this action, and shall I triumph? perchance she drownes now the beauties I loue with sorrowfull teares, and where is then my reioycing? You haue reason said (Cecropia with a fained grauitie) I will therefore send her away presently, that her contentment may be recou
•
red. No good mother (saide Amphialus) since she is here, I would not for my life constraine presence, but rather would I die then consent to absence. Pretie intricate follies (said Cecropia) but get you vp, and see how you can preuaile with her, while I go to the other sister. For after we shal haue our hands full to defend our selues, if Basilius hap to besiege vs. But remembring herselfe, she turned back and asked him what he would haue done with Zelmane, since now he might be reuenged of his hurt. Nothing but honorably, answered Amphialus, hauing deserued no other of me, especially being (as I hear) greatly cherished of Philoclea: and therfore I could wish they were lodged together. O no (said Cecropia) company confirmes resolutions, and lonelines breeds a werines of ones thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable profers.
But Amphialus (taking of his mother Philocleas kniues, which he kept as a relique, since she had worne thē) gat vp, and calling for his richest apparell, nothing seemed sumptuous inough for his mistresses eyes: and that which was costly, he feared were not dainty
•
and though the inuention were delicat, he misdoubted the making. As carefull he was too of the colour; lest if gay, he might seem to glory in his iniury, & her wrong; if mourning, it might strike some euil presage vnto her of her fortune. At length he took a garmēt more rich then glaring,
•
he ground being black veluet, richly embrodered with great pearle, & precious stones, but they set so among certaine tuffes of cipres, that the cipres was like black clowds, through which the stars might yeeld a dark luster. About his neck he ware a brode & gorgeous coller; whereof the pieces enterchāgeably answering; the one was of diamōds & pearle, set with a white enamell, so as by the cunning of the workman it seemed like a shining ice, and the other piece being of Rubies, and Opalles, had a fierie glistring, which he thought pictured the two passions of Feare & Desire, wherein he was enchained. His hurt (not yet fully well) made him a little halt, but he straue to giue the best grace he coulde vnto his halting.
And in that sorte hee went to Philocleas Chamber: whome he found (because her Chamber was ouer-lightsome) sitting of that side of her bedde which was from the windowe; which did cast such a shadowe vpon her, as a good Painter would bestowe vpon Venus, when vnder the trees she bewailed the murther of Adonis: her hands and fingers (as it were) indented one within the other: her shoulder leaning to her beds head, and ouer her head a scarfe, which did eclipse almost halfe her eyes, which vnder it fixed their beames vpon the wall by, with so steddie a maner, as if in that place they might well chaunge, but not mende their obiect: and so remayned they a good while after his comming in, he not daring to trouble her, nor she perceiuing him, till that (a little varying her thoughts something quickening her senses) she heard him as he happed to stirre his vpper garment: and perceiuing him, rose vp, with a demeanure, where in the booke of Beauty there was nothing to be read but Sorrow: for Kindenes was blotted out, & Anger was neuer there.
But Amphialus that had entrusted his memorie with long and forcible speeches, found it so locked vp in amazement, that he could pike nothing out of it, but the beseeching her to take what was don in good part, and to assure herselfe there was nothing but honour meant vnto her person. But she making no other aunswere, but letting her handes fall one from the other, which before were ioyned (with eyes something cast aside, and a silent sigh) gaue him to vnderstande, that considering his dooings, she thought his speeche as full of incongruitie, as her aunswere would be voyde of purpose: whereupon he kneeling downe, and kissing her hand, (which she suffered with a countenance witnessing captiuitie, but not kindnesse) he besought her to haue pitie of him, whose loue went beyond the boundes of conceite, much more of vttering: that in her hands the ballance of his life or death did stand; whereto the least motion of hers would serue to determine, she being indeed the mistres of his life, and he her eternall slaue; and with true vehemencie besought her that he might heare her speak, wherevpon she suffered her sweete breath to turne it selfe into these kinde of words.
Alas cousin, (saide she) what shall my tongue be able to doo, which is infourmed by the eares one way, and by the eyes another? You call for pittie, and vse crueltie; you say, you loue me, and yet do the effects of enmitie. You affirme your death is in my handes, but you haue brought me to so neere a degree to death, as when you will, you may lay death vpon me: so that while you saye I mistresse of your life, I am not mistresse of mine owne. You entitle your selfe my slaue, but I am
•
ure I am yours. If then violence, iniurie, terror, and depriuing of that which is more deare then life it selfe, libertie, be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I will be easily perswaded. But if the nearenesse of our kinred breede any remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you, which you call loue towarde me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the name of imprisonment: let not my hart waste it selfe by being vexed with feeling euill, and fearing worse. Let not me be a cause of my parents wofull destruction; but restore me to my selfe; and so doing I shall account I haue receiued my selfe of you. And what I say for my selfe, I say for my deare sister, and my friend Zelmane: for I desire no wel-being, without they may be partakers. With that her teares rayned downe from her heauenly eyes, and seemed to water the sweete and beautifull flowers of her face.
But Amphialus was like the poore woman, who louing a tame Doe she had, aboue all earthly things, hauing long played withall, and made it feed at her hand and lappe, is constrained at length by famine (all her flocke being spent, and she fallen into extreeme pouertie) to kill the Deare, to sustaine her life. Many a pitifull looke doth she cast vpon it, and many a time doth she drawe backe her hand before she can giue the stroke. For euen so Amphialus by a hunger-starued affection, was compelled to offer this iniurie, and yet the same affection made him with a tormenting griefe, thinke vnkindnesse in himselfe, that he coulde finde in his hart any way to restraine her freedome. But at length, neither able to graunt, nor denie, he thus answered her. Deare Lady (said he) I will not say vnto you (how iustly soeuer I may do it) that I am nether author, nor accessarie vnto this your with holding. For since I do not redres it, I am as faulty as if I had begun it. But this I protest vnto you (and this protestation of mine, let the heauens heare, and if I lye, let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) that in my soule I wish I had neuer seene the light, or rather, that I had neuer had a father to beget such a child, then that by my means those eyes should ouerflow their own beauties, then by my means the skie of your vertue should be ouerclowded with sorrow. But woe is me, most excellent Ladye, I finde my selfe most willing to obey you: neither truelye doo mine eares receaue the least word you speak, with any lesse reuerence, then as absolute, and vnresistable commaundements. But alas, that tirant Loue, (which now possesseth the holde of all my life and reason) will no way suffer it. It is Loue, it is Loue, not I, which disobey you. What then shall I say? but that I, who am redie to lye vnder your feete, to venture, nay to loose my life at your least commandement: I am not the staye of your freedome, but Loue, Loue, which tyes you in your owne knots. It is you your selfe, that imprison your selfe: it is your beauty which makes these castlewalles embrace you: it is your own eyes, which reflect vpon themselues this iniurye. Then is there no other remedie, but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfie this Loues vehemencie; which (since it grew in your selfe) without question you shall finde it (far more then I) tractable.
But with these wordes Philoclea fell to so extreame a quaking, and her liuelye whitenesse did degenerate to such a deadly palenesse, that Amphialus feared some daungerous traunce: so that taking her hande, and feelinge that it (which was woonte to be one of the chiefe firebrands of Cupid) had all the sence of it wrapt vp in coldnes, he began humblie to beseech her to put away all feare, and to assure herselfe vpon the vowe he made thereof vnto God, and her selfe, that the vttermost forces he would euer employ to conquere her affection, should be Desire, and Desert. That promise brought Philoclea againe to her selfe, so that slowly lifting vp her eyes vpon him, with a countenaunce euer courteous, but then languishing, she tolde him, that he should do well to do so, if indeed he had euer tasted what true loue was: for that where now she did beare him good will, she should (if he tooke any other way) hate, and abhor the very thought of him: assuring him withall, that though his mother had taken away her kniues, yet the house of Death had so many doores, as she would casilie flie into it, if euer she found her honor endaungered.
Amphialus hauing the colde ashes of Care cast vpon the coales of Desire, leauing some of his mothers Gentlewomen to waite vpon Philoclea, himselfe indeede a prisoner to his prisoner, and making all his authoritie to be but a footestoole
to Humblenes, went from her to his mother. To whome with words which Affection endited, but Amazement vttered, he deliuered what had passed between him and Philoclea: beseeching her to trie what her perswasions could doo with her, while he gaue order for all such things as were necessarie against such forces, as he looked dayly Basilius would bring before his castle. His mother bad him quiet him selfe, for she doubted not to take fit times. But that the best way was, first to let her owne Passion a little tire it selfe.
So they calling Clinias, and some other of their counsell, aduised vpon their present affaires. First, he dispatched priuat letters to all those principall Lords and gentlemen of the country, whom he thought ether alliance, or friendship to himselfe might drawe; with speciall motions from the generall consideration of duetie: not omitting all such, whom either youthfull age, or youthlike mindes did fill with vnlimited desires: besides such, whom any discontentment made hungry of change, or an ouer-spended want, made want a ciuill war: to each (according to the counsell of his mother) conforming himselfe after their humors. To his friends, friendlines; to the ambitious, great expectations; to the displeased, reuenge; to the greedie, spoile: wrapping their hopes with such cunning, as they rather seemed giuen ouer vnto them as partakers: then promises sprong of necessitie. Then sent he to his mothers brother, the king of Argos: but he was as then so ouer-laid with war himselfe, as from thence he could attend small succour.
But because he knew how violently rumors doo blow the sailes of popular iudgments, and how fewe there be that can discerne betweene truth and truthlikenes, betweene showes and substance; he caused a iustification of this his action to be written, wherof were sowed abroad many copies, which with some glosses of probabilitie, might hide in deede the foulenes of his treason; and from true commonplaces, fetch downe most false applications. For, beginning how much the duetie which is owed to the countrie, goes beyond all other dueties, since in it selfe it conteines them all, and that for the respect therof, not onely all tender respectes of kinred, or whatsoeuer other friendshippes, are to be laide aside, but that euen long-helde opinions (rather builded vpon a secret of gouernement, then any ground of truthe) are to be forsaken. He fell by degrees to shew, that since the ende whereto any thing is directed, is euer to be of more noble reckning, then the thing thereto directed: that therefore, the weale-publike was more to be regarded, then any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordained. The feeling consideration whereof, had moued him (though as nere of kinne to Basilius as could be, yet) to set principally before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands, ouer whom Basilius raigned: rather then so to hoodwinke himselfe with affection, as to suffer the realme to runne to manifest ruine. The care w
•
ereof, did kindly appertaine to those who being subalterne magistrates and officers of the crowne, were to be employed as from the Prince, so for the people; and of all other, especiallie himselfe, who being descended of the Royall race, and next heire male, Nature had no soner opened his eyes, but that the soyle where-upon they did looke, was to looke for at his hands a continuall carefulnes: which as from his childhood hee had euer caried; so now finding that his vncle had not only giuen ouer al care of gouernmēt, but had put it into the hands of Philanax, (a man neither in birth comparable to many, nor for his corrupt, prowde, and partiall dealing, liked of any) but beside, had set his daughters (in whom the whole estate, as next heires thereunto, had no lesse interest then
himselfe) in so vnfit and il-guarded a place, as it was not only dangerous for their persons, but (if they should be conueied to any forraine country) to the whole common-wealth pernicious: that therefore he had brought them into this strong castle of his, which way, if it might seem strange, they were to consider, that new necessities require new remedies: but there they should be serued and honored as belonged to their greatnes, vntill by the generall assembly of the estates, it should be determined how they should to their best (both priuate, and publique) aduantage be matched; vowing all faith & duty both to the father & children, neuer by him to be violated. But if in the meane time, before the estates could be assēbled, he should be assailed, he would thē for his own defence take armes: desiring al, that either tendred the dāgerous case of their country, or in their harts loued iustice, to defēd him in this iust actiō. And if the Prince should cōmaund them otherwise, yet to know, that therein he was no more to be obeied, then if he should call for poison to hurt himself withal: since all that was done, was done for his seruice, howsoeuer he might (seduced by Philanax) interprete of it: he protesting, that whatsoeuer he should do for his owne defence, should be against Philanax, and no way against Basilius.
To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, and painted with rhetoricall colours, did he sow abroad many discourses: which as they preuailed with some of more quicke then sounde conceipt, to runne his fortune with him; so in many did it breed a coolenesse, to deale violently against him, and a false-minded neutralitie to expect the issue. But besides the waies he vsed to weaken the aduerse partie, he omitted nothing for the strengthning of his owne. The chiefe trust whereof (because he wanted men to keepe the field) he reposed in the suretie of his castle; which at lest would winne him much time, the mother of many mutations. To that therfore he bent both his outward and inward eyes, striuing to make Art striue with Nature, to whether of them two that fortification should be most beholding. The seat Nature bestowed, but Arte gaue the building: which as his rocky hardnesse would not yeeld to vndermining force, so to open assaults he tooke counsell of skill, how to make all approches, if not impossible, yet difficult; as well at the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to giue vnquiet lodgings to them, whome onely enmitie would make neighbors. Then omitted he nothing of defence, as well simple defence, as that which did defend by offending, fitting instruments of mischiefe to places, whence the mischiefe might be most liberally bestowed. Nether was his smallest care for victuals, as well for the prouiding that which should suffice, both in store & goodnesse, as in well preseruing it, and wary distributing it, both in quantitie, and qualitie; spending that first which would keepe lest.
But wherein he sharpned his wits to the pearcingest point, was touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of weapons, & master-spring (as it were) which makes all the rest to stir; and that therfore in the Arte of man stood the quintessence, and ruling skill of all prosperous gouernment, either peaceable, or military) he chose in number as many as without pestring (and so daunger of infection) his victuall would serue for two yeare to maintaine; all of hable bodies, and some few of able mindes to direct, not seeking many commaunders, but contenting himselfe, that the multitude should haue obeying wittes, euery one knowing whom he should commaund, and whom he should obey, the place where, and the matter wherein; distributing each office as neere as he could, to the disposition of the person that should exercise it: knowing no loue, daunger, nor discipline can sodainly
alter an habite in nature. Therefore would he not employ the still man to a shifting practise, nor the liberall man to be a dispenser of his victuals, nor the kind-harted man to be a punisher: but would exercise their vertues in sorts, where they might be profitable, employing his chiefe care to know them all particularly, and throughly, regarding also the constitution of their bodies; some being able better to abide watching, some hunger, some labour, making his benefit of ech hability, and not forcing beyond power. Time to euery thing by iust proportion he allotted, and as wel in that, as in euery thing els, no small errour winckt at, lest greater should be animated. Euen of vices he made his profite, making the cowardly Clinias to haue care of the watch, which he knew his own feare would make him very wakefully performe. And before the siege began, he himselfe caused rumors to be sowed, and libels to be spread against himselfe, fuller of mallice, then witty persuasion: partly, to knowe those that would be apt to stumble at such motions, that he might cull them from the faithfuller band; but principally, because in necessitie they should not know when any such thing were in earnest attempted, whether it were, or not, of his owne inuention. But euen then (before the enemies face came neere to breed any terrour) did he exercise his men dayly in all their charges, as if Daunger had presently presented his most hideous presence: him selfe rather instructing by example, then precept; being neither more sparing in trauaile, nor spending in diet, then the meanest souldier: his hand and body disdaining no base matters, nor shrinking from the heauy.
The onely ods was, that when others tooke breath, he sighed; and when others rested, he crost his armes. For Loue passing thorow the pikes of Daunger, and tumbling it selfe in the dust of Labour, yet still made him remember his sweete desire, and beautifull image. Often when he had begun to commaund one, somewhat before halfe the sentence were ended, his inward guest did so entertaine him, that he would breake it off, and a prettie while after end it, when he had (to the maruaile of the standers by) sent himselfe in to talke with his own thoughts. Sometimes when his hand was lifted vp to do some thing, as if with the sight of Gorgons head he had bene sodainely turned into a stone, so would he there abide with his eyes planted, and hand lifted, till at length, comming to the vse of himselfe, he would looke about whether any had perceiued him; then would he accuse, and in himselfe condemne all those wits, that durst affirme Idlenesse to be the well-spring of Loue. O, would he say, all you that affect the title of wisdome, by vngratefull scorning the ornaments of Nature, am I now piping in a shaddow? or doo slouthfull feathers now enwrap me? Is not hate before me, and doubt behinde me? is not daunger of the one side, and shame of the other? And doo I not stande vpon paine, and trauaile, and yet ouer all, my affection triumphes? The more I stirre about vrgent affaires, the more me thinks the very stirring breedes a breath to blow the coales of my loue: the more I exercise my thoughts, the more they encrease the appetite of my desires. O sweet Philoclea (with that he would cast vp his eyes wherein some water did appeare, as if they would wash themselues against they should see her) thy heauenly face is my Astronomie; thy sweet vertue, my sweet Philosophie: let me profite therein, and farewell all other cogitations. But alas, my minde misgiues me, for your planets beare a contrarie aspect vnto me. Woe, woe is me, they threaten my destruction: and whom do they threaten this destruction? euen him that loues them; and by what meanes will they destroy, but by louing them? O deare
(though killing) eyes, shall death head his darte with the golde of Cupids arrowe? Shall death take his ayme from the rest of Beautie? O beloued (though hating Philoclea, how if thou beest mercifull, hath crueltie stolne into thee? Or how if thou beest cruell, doth crueltie looke more beautifull then euer Mercie did? Or alas, is it my destinie that makes Mercie cruell? Like an euill vessell which turnes sweete licour to sowernes; so when thy grace falls vpon me, my wretched constitution makes it become fiercenesse. Thus would he exercise his eloquence, when she could not heare him, and be dumbe-striken, when her presence gaue him fit occasion of speaking: so that his witte could finde out no other refuge, but the comfort and counsell of his mother, desiring her ( whose thoughts were vnperplexed) to vse for his sake the most preuailing manners of intercession.
She seing her sonnes safetie depende thereon, (though her pride much disdained the name of a desirer) tooke the charge vpon her, not doubting the easie conquest of an vnexpert virgin, who had alreadie with subtiltie and impudencie begun to vndermine a monarchy. Therefore, waighing Philocleas resolutions by the counterpease of her owne youthfull thoughts, which she then called to minde, she doubted not at least to make Philoclea receiue the poyson distilled in sweete liquour, which she with little disguising had drunke vp thirstily. Therefore she went softly to Philocleas chamber, and peeping through the side of the doore, then being a little open, she sawe Philoclea sitting lowe vpon a cushion, in such a giuen-ouer manner, that one would haue thought, silence, solitarinesse, and melancholie were come there, vnder the ensigne of mishap, to conquere delight, and driue him from his naturall seate of beautie: her teares came dropping downe like raine in Sunshine, and she not taking heede to wipe the teares, they hoong vpon her cheekes, and lips, as vpon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth. In the dressing of her haire and apparell, she might see neither a carefull arte, nor an arte of carelesnesse, but euen left to a neglected chaunce, which yet could no more vnperfect her perfections, then a Die anie way cast, could loose his squarenesse.
Cecropia (stirred with no other pitie, but for her sonne) came in, and haling kindnesse into her countenance, What ayles this sweet Ladie, (said she) will you marre so good eyes with weeping? shall teares take away the beautie of that complexion, which the women of Arcadia wish for, and the men long after? Fie of this peeuish sadnesse; in sooth it is vntimely for your age. Looke vpon your owne bodie, and see whether it deserue to pine away with sorrow: see whether you will haue these hands (with that she tooke one of her hands and kissing it, looked vppon it as if she were enamoured with it) fade from their whitenesse, which makes one desire to touch them; and their softnesse, which rebounds againe a desire to looke on them, and become drie, leane and yellow, and make euerie bodie woonder at the chaunge, and say, that sure you had vsed some arte before, which now you had left? for if the beauties had beene naturall, they would neuer so soone haue beene blemished. Take a glasse, and see whether these teares become your eies: although, I must confesse, those eies are able to make teares comely. Alas Madame (answered Philoclea) I know not whether my teares become mine eyes, but I am sure mine eies thus beteared, become my fortune. Your fortune (saide Cecropia) if she could see to attire herselfe, would put on her best raiments. For I see, and I see it with griefe, and (to tell you true) vnkindnes: you misconster euery thing, that only for your sake is attempted. You thinke you are offended and are indeed defended:
you esteeme your selfe a prisoner, and are in truth a mistres: you feare hate, and shall finde loue. And truely, I had a thing to say to you, but it is no matter, since I finde you are so obstinatly melancholy, as that you woo his felowship: I will spare my paines, and hold my peace: And so staied indeede, thinking Philoclea would haue had a female inquisitiuenesse of the matter. But she, who rather wished to vnknow what she knewe, then to burden her hart with more hopeles knowledge, only desired her to haue pity of her, and if indeed she did meane her no hurt, then to graunt her liberty: for else the very griefe and feare, would proue her vnappointed executioners. For that (said Cecropia) beleue me vpon the faith of a kings daughter, you shall be free, so soone as your freedome may be free of mortall danger, being brought hither for no other cause, but to preuent such mischiefes as you know not of. But if you thinke indeed to winne me to haue care of you, euen as of mine owne daughter, then lend your eares vnto me, and let not your mind arme it selfe with a wilfulnesse to be flexible to nothing. But if I speake reason, let Reason haue his due reward, persuasion. Then sweet neece (said she) I pray you presuppose, that now, euen in the midst of your agonies, which you paint vnto your selfe most horrible, wishing with sighes, and praying with vowes, for a soone and safe deliuerie. Imagin neece (I say) that some heauenly spirit should appeare vnto you, and bid you follow him through the doore, that goes into the garden, assuring you, that you should therby returne to your deare mother, and what other delights soeuer your minde esteemes delights: would you (sweet neece) would you refuse to folow him, and say, that if he led you not through the chiefe gate, you would not enioy your ouer-desired liberty? Would you not drink the wine you thirst for, without it were in such a glasse, as you especially fancied? tell me (deare neece:) but I will answer for you, because I know your reason & wit is such, as must needs cōclude, that such nicenesse can no more be in you, to disgrace such a mind, then disgracefulnesse can haue any place in so faultles a beauty. Your wisdom would assuredly determin, how the mark were hit, not whether the bow were of Ewe or no, wherein you shot. If this be so, & thus sure (my deare neece) it is, then (I pray you) imagin, that I am that same good Angel, who grieuing in your griefe, and in truth not able to suffer, that bitter sighs should be sent foorth with so sweet a breath, am come to lead you, not only to your desired, and imagined happines, but to a true and essentiall happines; not only to liberty, but to libertie with commandement. The way I will shew you (which if it be not the gate builded hitherto in your priuate choise, yet shall it be a doore to bring you through a garden of pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring foorth; nay rather, which makes this life to be a life: (My son,) let it be no blemish to him that I name him my son, who was your fathers own nephew: for you know I am no small kings daughter,) my sonne (I say) farre passing
•
he neernesse of his kinred, with neernesse of good-will, and striuing to match your matchlesse beautie with a matchlesse affection, doth by me present vnto you the full enioying of your liberty, so as with this gift you will accept a greater, which is, this castell, with all the rest which you knowe he hath, in honorable quantitie; and will cōfirme his gift, and your receipt of both, with accepting him to be yours. I might say much both for the person and the matter; but who will crie out the Sun shines? It is so manifest a profit vnto you, as the meanest iudgement must straight apprehend it: so farre is it from the sharpnesse of yours, therof to be ignorant. Therfore (sweet neece) let your gratefulnes be my intercession, and your gentlenesse my eloquence, and let me cary comfort to a hart
which greatly needs it. Philoclea looked vpon her, and cast downe her eie againe. Aunt (said she) I would I could be so much a mistres of my owne mind, as to yeeld to my cousins vertuous request: for so I construe of it. But my hart is already set (and staying a while on that word, she brought foorth afterwards) to leade a virgins life to my death: for such a vow I haue in my selfe deuoutly made. The heauens preuent such a mischiefe (said Cecropia.) A vowe, quoth you? no, no, my deere neece, Nature, whē you were first borne, vowed you a woman, and as she made you child of a mother, so to do your best to be mother of a child: she gaue you beautie to moue loue; she gaue you wit to know loue; she gaue you an excellent body to reward loue: which kind of liberall rewarding is crowned with an vnspeakable felicitie. For this, as it bindeth the receiuer, so it makes happy the bestower: this doth not impouerish, but enrich the giuer. O the sweet name of a mother: O the comfort of comforts, to see your children grow vp, in whom you are (as it were) eternized: if you could conceiue what a hart-tickling ioy it is to see your owne litle ones, with awfull loue come running to your lap, & like litle models of your selfe, still cary you about them, you would think vnkindnes in your owne thoughts, that euer they did rebel against the mean vnto it. But perchāce I set this blessednes before your eies, as Captains do victorie before their souldiers, to which they must come through many paines, grieues & dangers. No, I am cōtent you shrinke frō this my counsel, if the way to come vnto it, be not most of all pleasant. I know not (answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing least silence would offend for sullennes) what contentment you speake of: but I am sure the best you can make of it, (which is mariage) is a burdenous yoke. Ah, deere neece (said Cecropia) how much you are deceiued? A yoke indeed we all beare, laid vpō vs in our creation, which by mariage is not increased, but thus far eased, that you haue a yokefellow to help to draw through the cloddy cumbers of this world. O widow-nights, beare witnes with me of the difference. How often alas do I embrace the orfan-side of my bed, which was wont to be imprinted by the body of my deare husband, and with teares acknowledge, that I now enioy such a liberty as the banished mā hath; who may, if he list, wāder ouer the world, but is for euer restrained frō his most delightful home? that I haue now such a liberty as the seeled doue hath, which being first depriued of eies, is thē by th
•
falconer cast off? For beleue me, neece, beleue me, mans experiēce is womās best eie-sight. Haue you euer seene a pure Rosewater kept in a christal glas? how fine it lokes? how sweet it smels, while that beautifull glasse imprisons it? Breake the prison, and let the water take his owne course, doth it not imbrace dust, and loose all his former sweetnesse, & fairenesse? Truly so are we, if we haue not the stay, rather then the restraint of Cristalline mariage. My hart melts to thinke of the sweet comforts, I in that happy time receiued, when I had neuer cause to care, but the care was doubled: when I neuer reioiced, but that I saw my ioy shine in anothers eies. What shall I say of the free delight, which the hart might embrace, without the accusing of the inward conscicēe, or feare of outward shame? and is a solitary life as good as this? then can one string make as good musicke as a consort: then can one colour set forth a beautie. But it may be, the generall consideration of mariage doth not so much mislike you, as the applying of it to him. He is my sonne, I must confesse, I see him with a mothers eyes, which if they doo not much deceiue me, he is no such one, ouer whom Contempt may make any iust chalenge. He is comely, he is noble, he is rich; but that which in it selfe should carie all comelinesse, nobilitie, and riches, he loues you; and he loues
you, who is beloued of others. Driue not away his affection (sweete Ladie) and make no other Ladie hereafter proudly bragge, that she hath robbed you of so faithfull and notable a seruant. Philoclea heard some pieces of her speches, no otherwise then one doth when a tedious pratler combers the hearing of a delightfull musicke. For her thoughts had left her eares in that captiuitie, and conueied themselues to behold (with such eies as imagination could lend them) the estate of her Zelmane: for whome how well she thought many of those sayings might haue ben vsed with a farre more gratefull acceptation. Therfore listing not to dispute in a matter whereof her selfe was resolued, and desired not to enforme the other, she onely told her, that whilest she was so captiued, she could not conceiue of any such persuasions (though neuer so reasonable) any otherwise, then as constraints: and as constraints must needs euen in nature abhor them, which at her libertie, in their owne force of reason, might more preuaile with her: and so faine would haue returned the strength of Cecropias perswasions, to haue procured freedome.
But neither her wittie words in an enemie, nor those words, made more then eloquent with passing through such lips, could preuaile in Cecropia, no more then her perswasions could winne Philoclea to disauowe her former vowe, or to leaue the prisoner Zelmane, for the commaunding Amphialus. So that both sides being desirous, and neither graunters, they brake off conference. Cecropia sucking vp more and more spite out of her deniall, which yet for her sonnes sake, she disguised with a visarde of kindnes, leauing no office vnperfourmed, which might either witnes, or endeare her sonnes affection. Whatsoeuer could be imagined likely to please her, was with liberall diligence perfourmed: Musickes at her windowe, and especially such Musickes, as might (with dolefull embassage) call the mind to thinke of sorow, and thinke of it with sweetnes; with ditties so sensiblie expressing Amphialus
case, that euerie word seemed to be but a diuersifying of the name of Amphialus. Daily presents, as it were oblations, to pacifie an angrie Deitie, sent vnto her: wherein, if the workmanship of the forme, had striuen with the sumptuousnes of the matter, as much did the inuention in the application, contende to haue the chiefe excellencie: for they were as so many stories of his disgraces, and her perfections; whe
•
e the richnes did inuite the eyes, the fashion did entertaine the eyes, and the deuice did teach the eyes, the present miserie of the presenter himselfe awefully seruiceable: which was the more notable, as his authoritie was manifest. And for the bondage wherein she liued, all meanes vsed to make knowen, that if it were a bondage, it was a bondage onely knitte in loue-knots: but in harte alreadie vnderstanding no language but one. The Musicke wrought indeede a dolefulnes, but it was a dolefulnes to be in his power: the dittie intended for Amphialus, she translated to Zelmane: the presents seemed so many tedious clogs of a thralled obligation: and his seruice, the more diligent it was, the more it did exprobrate (as she thought) vnto her, her vnworthie estate: that euen he that did her seruice, had authoritie of commanding her, onely construing her seruitude in his owne nature, esteeming it a right, and a right bitter seruitude: so that all their shots (how well soeuer leuelled) being carried awrie from the marke, by the storme of her mislike, the Prince Amphialus affectionately languished, and Cecropia spitefullie cunning, disdained at the barrennes of their successe.
Which willingly Cecropia would haue reuenged, but that she saw, her hurt could not be diuided from her sonnes mischiefe: wherefore, she bethought her selfe
to attempt Pamela, whose beautie being equall, she hoped, if shee might bee woon
•
that her sonnes thoughtes would rather rest on a beautifull gratefulnes, then still be tormented with a disdaining beautie. Therefore, giuing new courage to her wicked inuentions, and vsing the more industry, because she had mist in this, and taking euen precepts of preuailing in Pamela, by her fayling in Philoclea, shee went to her chamber, and (according to her owne vngratious method of subtile proceeding) stood listning at the dore, because that out of the circumstance of her present behauiour, there might kindly arise a fitte beginning of her intended discourse.
And so shee might perceaue that Pamela did walke vp and downe, full of deepe (though patient) thoughts. For her look and countenance was setled, her pace soft and almost still of one measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion: till at length (as it were) awaking, and strengthning her selfe, Well (said she) yet this is, the best, and of this I am sure, that how soeuer they wrong me, they cannot ouer-master God. No darkenes blinds his eyes, no Iayle barres him out. To whom then else should I flie, but to him for succoure? And therewith kneeling downe, euen where she stood, she thus said. O all-seeing Light, and eternall Life of al things to whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small, that it is contemned: looke vpon my miserie with thine eye of mercie, and let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limite out some proportiō of deliuerance vnto me, as to thee shal seem most conuenient. Let not iniurie, ô Lord, triumphe ouer me, and let my faultes by thy hande be corrected, and make not mine vniuste enemie the minister of thy Iustice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdome, this be the aptest chastizement for my vnexcuseable follie; if this low bondage bee fittest for my ouer-hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble harte, bee thus to bee broken, O Lorde, I yeeld vnto thy will, and ioyfully embrace what sorrow thou wilt haue me suffer. Onely thus much let me craue of thee, (let my crauing, ô Lord, be accepted of thee, since euen that proceedes from thee) let mee craue, euen by the noblest title, which in my greatest affliction I may giue my selfe, that I am thy creature, and by thy goodnes (which is thy selfe) that thou wilt suffer some beame of thy Maiestie so to shine into my mind, that it may still depende confidently vpon thee. Let calamitie bee the exercise, but not the ouerthrowe of my vertue: let their power preuaile, but preuaile not to destruction: let my greatnes be their praie: let my paine bee the sweetnes of their reuenge: let them (if so it seem good vnto thee) vexe me with more and more punishment. But, ô Lord, let neuer their wickednes haue such a hand, but that I may carie a pure minde in a pure bodie. (And pausing a while) And ô most gracious Lorde (said she) what euer become of me, preserue the vertuous Musidorus.
The other parte Cecropia might well heare, but this latter prayer for Musidorus, her hart helde it, as so iewel-like a treasure, that it woulde scarce trust her owne lippes withall. But this prayer, sent to heauen, from so heauenly a creature, with such a feruent grace, as if Deuotion had borowed her bodie, to make of it selfe a most beautifull representation; with her eyes so lifted to the skie-ward, that one woulde haue thought they had begunne to flie thetherwarde, to take their place among their fellow starres; her naked hands raising vp their whole length, and as it were kissing one another, as if the right had ben the picture of Zeale, and the left, of Humblenesse, which both vnited themselues to make their suites more acceptable. Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens then instruments of her inwarde motions, altogether had so straunge a working power, that euen the harde-harted wickednesse of Cecropia, if it
founde not a loue of that goodnes, yet it felt an abashment at that goodnes; and if she had not a kindly remorse, yet had she an yrksome accusation of her own naughtines, so that she was put from the biasle of her fore-intended lesson. For well shee found there was no way at that time to take that mind, but with some, at lest, image of Vertue, and what the figure thereof was her hart knew not.
Yet did she prodigally spend her vttermost eloquence, leauing no argument vnproued, which might with any force inuade her excellent iudgement: the iustnes of the request being, but for marriage; the worthinesse of the suiter: then her owne present fortune, which shoulde not onely haue amendment, but felicitie: besides falsely making her belieue, that her sister would thinke her selfe happie, if now shee might haue his loue which before shee contemned: and obliquely touching, what daunger it should be for her, if her sonne should accept Philoclea in marriage, and so match the next heire apparant, shee being in his powre: yet plentifully periuring how extreamely her sonne loued her, and excusing the little shewes hee made of it, with the duetifull respect he bare vnto her, and taking vpon her selfe that she restrayned him, since shee found shee could set no limits to his passions. And as shee did to Philoclea, so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts, seeke to bring her mind into seruitude: and all other meanes, that might either establish a beholdingnesse, or at lest awake a kindnes; doing it so, as by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not how the other was wooed; but each might thinke, that onely shee was sought. But if Philoclea with sweet and humble dealing did auoid their assaults, she with the Maiestie of Vertue did beate them of.
But this day their speach was the sooner broken of, by reason that he, who stood as watche vpon the top of the keepe, did not onely see a great dust arise (which the earth sent vp, as if it would striue to haue clowdes as well as the aire) but might spie sometimes, especially when the dust (wherein the naked winde did apparaile, it selfe) was caried a side from them, the shining of armour; like flashing of lightning, wherewith the clowdes did seeme to bee with childe; which the Sunne guilding with his beames, it gaue a sight delightfull to any, but to them that were to abide the terrour. But the watch gaue a quicke Alarum to the souldiers within, whome practise already hauing prepared, began each, with vnabashed hartes or at lest countenaunces, to looke to their charge, or obedience, which was allotted vnto them.
Onely Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds of mediocrity: the one in his naturall coldnesse of cowardise, the other in heate of courage. For Clinias (who was bold onely in busie whisperings, and euen in that whisperingnes rather indeede confident in his cunning, that it should not bee bewraied, then any way bolde, if euer it should bee bewrayed) now that the enemy gaue a dreadfull aspect vnto the castle, his eyes saw no terror, nor eare heard any martiall sounde, but that they multiplied the hideousnesse of it to his mated minde. Before their comming he had many times felt a dreadfull expectation, but yet his minde (that was willing to ease it selfe of the burden offeare) did somtime
•
aine vnto it selfe possibilitie of let; as the death of Basilius, the discord of the nobilitie, and (when other cause fayled him) the nature of chaunce serued as a cause vnto him: and sometimes the hearing other men speake valiantly, and the quietnesse of his vnassailed senses, woulde make himselfe beleue, that hee durst doo something. But now, that present daunger did
display it selfe vnto his eye, and that a daungerous dooing must be the onely meane to preuent the danger of suffering, one that had marked him woulde haue iudged, that his eies would haue run into him, and his soule out of him; so vnkindly did either take a sent of daunger. He thought the lake was too shallow, and the walles too thin: he misdouted ech mans treason, and coniectured euery possibilitie of misfortune, not onely fore-casting likely perils, but such as all the planets together coulde scarcely haue conspired: and already began to arme him selfe, though it was determined he should tarrie within doores; and while he armed himselfe, imagined in what part of the vault he would hide himselfe, if the enimies wonne the castle. Desirous he was that euery body should do valiantly, but himselfe; and therefore was afraid to shew his feare, but for very feare would haue hid his feare; lest it shoulde discomfort others: but the more he sought to disguize it, the more the vnsutablenes of a weake broken voice to high braue wordes, and of a pale shaking countenance to a gesture of animating did discouer him.
But quite contrarily Amphialus, who before the enimies came was carefull, prouidently diligent, & not somtimes with out doubting of the issue; now the nearer danger approched (like the light of a glow-worme) the lesse still it seemed: and now his courage began to boile in choler, and with such impatience to desire to powre out both vpon the enimie, that he issued presently into certaine boates he had of purpose and carying with him some choise men, went to the fortresse he had vpon the edge of the lake, which hee thought would bee the first thing, that the enimy woulde attempt; because it was a passage, which commanding all that side of the country, and being lost would stop victuall, or other supply, that might be brought into the castle & in that fortresse hauing some force of horsemen, he issued out with two hundred horse, & fiue hundred footmen, embushed his footmen in the falling of a hill, which was ouer shadowed with a wood, he with his horsmen went a quarter of a mile further; aside hand of which he might perceaue the many troupes of the enimie, who came but to take view where best to encampe themselues.
But as if the sight of the enimie had bene a Magnes stone to his courage he could not containe himselfe, but shewing his face to the enimie, and his backe to his souldiers, vsed that action, as his onely oration, both of denouncing warre to the one and perswading help of the other. Who faithfully following an example of such authoritie, they made the earth to grone vnder their furious burden, and the enimies to begin to be angry with them, whom in particular they knew not. Among whom there was a young man, youngest brother to Philanax, whose face as yet did notbewray his sex, with so much as shew of haire; of a minde hauing no limits of hope, nor knowing why to feare; full of iollitie in conuersation, and lately growne a Louer. His name was Agenor, of all that armie the most beautifull: who hauing ridden in sportfull conuersation among the foremost, all armed sauing that his beauer was vp, to haue his breath in more freedome, seing Amphialus come a pretty way before his cōpany, neither staying the commaundement of the captaine, nor recking whether his face were armed, or no, set spurs to his horse, and with youthfull brauerie casting his staffe about his head, put it then in his rest, as carefull of comely carying it, as if the marke had beene but a ring, and the lookers on Ladies, But Amphialus
launce was already come to the last of his descending line, and began to make the ful point of death against the head of this young Gentleman, when Amphialus perceyuing his youth and beautie, Compassion so rebated the edge of Choller, that hee
spared that faire nakednesse, and let his staffe fal to Agenors vampalt: so as both with braue breaking should hurtleslie haue perfourmed that match, but that the pittilesse launce of Amphialus (angry with being broken) with an vnlucky counterbuffe ful of vnsparing splinters, lighted vpon that face farre fitter for the combats of Venus; geuing not onely a suddaine, but a fowle death, leauing scarsely any tokens of his former beautie: but his hands abandoning the reynes, and his thighes the saddle, hee fell sidewarde from the horse. Which sight comming to Leontius, a deere friende of his, who in vaine had lamentably cried vnto him to stay, when he saw him beginne his careere, it was harde to say, whether pittie of the one, or reuenge against the other, helde as then the soueraigntie in his passions. But while hee directed his eye to his friende, and his hinde to his enimie, so worngly-consorted a power coulde not resist the ready minded force of Amphialus: who perceyuing his il-directed direction against him, so paide him his debt before it was lent, that hee also fell to the earth onely happy that one place, and one time, did finish both their Loues and liues together.
But by this time there had bene a furious meeting of either side: where after the terrible salutation of warlike noyse, the shaking of handes was with sharpe weapons: some launces according to the mettall they mett, and skill of the guider, did staine themselues in bloud; some flew vp in pieces, as if they would threaten heauen, because they fayled on earth
•
But their office was quickly inherited, either by (the Prince of weapons) the sworde, or by some heauy mase, or biting axe; which hunting still the weakest chase, sought euer to light there, wher smallest resistance might worse preuent mischiefe. The clashing of armour, and crushing of staues; the iustling of bodies, the resounding of blowes, was the first parte of that ill-agreeing musicke, which was beautified with the griselinesse of woundes, the rising of dust; the hideous falles, and grones of the dying. The very horses angrie in their masters anger, with loue and obedience brought foorth the effects of hate and resistance, and with minds of seruitude, did as if they affected glorie. Some lay deade vnder their dead maisters, whome vnknightly wounds had vniustly punished for a faithfull dutie, Some lay vppon their Lordes by like accidents, and in death had the honour to be borne by them, whom in life they had borne. Some hauing lost their commaunding burthens, ranne scattered about the fielde, abashed with the madnesse of mankinde. The earth it selfe woont to be a buriall of men) was nowe (as it were) buried with men: so was the face thereof hidden with deade bodies, to whom Death hade come masked in diuerse manners. In one place lay disinherited heades, dispossessed of their naturall seignories: in an other, whole bodies to see to, but that their hartes wont to be bound all ouer so close, were nowe with deadly violence opened: in others, fowler deaths had ouglily displayed their trayling guttes. There lay armes, whose fingers yet mooued, as if they would feele for him that made them feele: and legges, which contrarie to common reason, by being discharged of their burden, were growne heauier. But no sword payed so large a tribute of soules to the eternall Kingdome, as that of Amphialus, who like a Tigre, from whome a companie of Woolues did seeke, to rauish a newe gotten pray; so he (remembring they came to take away Philoclea) did labour to make valure, strength, choller and hatred, to answere the proportion of his loue, which was infinit.
There died of his handes the olde knight AEschylus, who though by yeares might well haue beene allowed to vse rather the exercises of wisedome, then of courage;
yet hauing a lustie bodie and a merrie hart, he euer tooke the summons of Time in iest, or else it had so creepingly stollen vpon him, that he had heard scarcely the noise of his feete, and therefore was as fresh in apparell, and as forwarde in enterprises, as a farre yonger man: but nothing made him bolder, then a certaine prophecie had beene tolde him, that he shoulde die in the armes of his sonne, and therefore feared the lesse the arme of an enemie. But now when Amphialus sword was passed through his throate, he thought himselfe abused; but that before he died, his sonne, indeede seeing his father beginne to fall, helde him vp in his armes, till a pitilesse souldier of of the other side, with a mace brained him, making father & sonne become twinnes in the neuer againe dying birth. As for Drialus. Memnon, Nisus and Policrates; the first had his eyes cut out so, as he could not see to bid the neare following death welcome: the seconde had met with the same Prophet that olde AEschylus had, and hauing founde many of his speeches true, beleeued this to, that hee should neuer bee killed, but by his owne companions: and therefore no man was more valiant then he against an enimie, no man more suspicious of his friends: so as he seemed to sleep in securitie, when he went to a battell, and to enter into a battaile, when he began to sleepe, such guards he would set about his person; yet mistrusting those verie guards lest they would murther him. But now Amphialus helped to vnriddle his doubtes; for he ouerthrowing him from his horse, his owne companions comming with a fresh supplie, pressed him to death. Nisus grasping with Amphialus, was with a short dagger slaine. And for Policrates, while hee shunned as much as hee could, keeping onely his place for feare of punishment, Amphialus with a memorable blowe strake of his head, where, with the conuulsions of death setting his spurres to his horse, he gaue so braue a charge vpon the enemie, as it grewe a prouerbe, that Policrates was onely valiant, after his head was off. But no man escaped so well his handes as Phebilus did: for hee hauing long loued Philoclea, though for the meannesse of his estate he neuer durst reueale it, nowe knowing Amphialus, setting the edge of a riuall vpon the sworde of an enemie, he helde strong fight with him. But Amphialus had already in the daungerousest places disarmed him, and was lifting vp his sworde to send him away from himselfe, when he thinking indeede to die, O Philoclea (said he) yet this ioyes mee, that I die for thy sake. The name of Philoclea first staied his sworde, and when he heard him out, though heabhord him much worse then before, yet could he not vouchsafe him the honour of dying for Philoclea, but turned his sworde another way, doing him no hurt for ouer-much hatred. But what good did that to poore Phebilus, if escaping a valiant hand, hee was slaine by base souldiour, who seeing him so disarmed, thrust him through?
But thus with the well-followed valure of Amphialus were the other almost ouerthrowne, when Philanax (who was the marshall of the army) came in, with newe force renuing the almost decayed courage of his souldiers. For, crying to them (and asking them whether their backes or their armes were better fighters) hee himselfe thrust into the presse, and making force and furie waite vppon discretion and gouernement, he might seeme a braue Lion who taught his yong Lionets, how in taking of a pray, to ioine courage with cunning. Then Fortune (as if shee had made chases inow of the one side of that bloody Teniscourt) went of the other side the line, making as many fall downe of Amphialus followers, as before had done of Philanaxis, they loosing the ground, as fast as before they had woon it, onely leauing them to keepe it, who had lost themselues in keeping it. Then those that had killed,
inherited the lot of those that had bene killed; and cruel Deaths made them lie quietly to gether, who most in their liues had sought to disquiet ech other; and many of those first ouerthrowne, had the comfort to see the murtherers ouerrun them to Charons ferrie.
Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their liues vpon Philanax his sword: but no bodies case was more pitied, then of a yong esquire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who neuer abandoning his maister, and making his tender age aspire to actes of the strongest manhoode, in this time that his side was put to the worst, and that Amphialus-his valure was the onely stay of them from deliuering themselues ouer to a shamefull flight, hee sawe his masters horse killed vnder him. Whereupon, asking no aduise of no thought, but of faithfulnes and courage, he presently lighted from his owne horse, and with the helpe of some choise and faithfull seruants, gat his master vp. But in the multitude that came of either side, some to succour, some to saue Amphialus, hee came vnder the the hande of Philanax: and the youth perceyuing he was the man that did most hurt to his partie, (desirous euen to change his life sor glorie) strake at him, as hee rode by him, and gaue him a hurt vpon the legg, that made Philanax turn towards him; but seing him so yong, and of a most louely presence, he rather toke pity of him; meaning to make him prisoner, & then to giue him to his brother Agenor to be his companion, because they were not much vnlike, neither in yeeres, nor countenance. But as he loked down vpon him with that thought he spied wher his brother lay dead, & his friend Leontius by him, euen almost vnder the squiers feet. Then soroing not only his owne sorow, but the past-comfort sorow which he fore-knew his mother would take, (who with many teares, and misgiuing sighs had suffred him to go with his elder brother Philanax) blotted out all figures of pitie out of his minde, and putting foorth his horse (while Ismenus doubled two or three more valiant, then well set blowes) saying to himselfe, Let other mothers bewaile and vntimely death as well as mine; hee thrust him through. And the boy fearce though beautifull; & beautifull, though dying, not able to keepe his failinge feete, fell downe to the earth, which he bit for anger, repining at his Fortune, and as long as he could resisting Death, which might seeme vnwilling to; so long he was in taking away his yong struggling soule.
Philanax himselfe could haue wished the blow vngiuen, when hee saw him fall like a faire apple, which some vncourteous bodie (breaking his bowe) should throw downe before it were ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that, and himselfe: so as ouerhastily pressing vpon the retiring enemies, hee was (ere hee was aware) further engaged then his owne souldiers could relieue him; where being ouerthrowne by Amphialus, Amphialus glad of him, kept head aginst his enemies while some of his men caried away Philanax.
But Philanax-his men as if with the losse of Philanax they had lost the fountaine of their valure, had their courages so dried vp in feare; that they began to set honour at their backs, and to vse the vertue of pacience in an vntimely time: when into the presse comes (as hard as his horse, more afraied of the spurre, then the sworde coulde carie him) a Knight in armor as darke as blacknes coulde make it, followed by none, and adorned by nothing; so far without authoritie that hee was without knowledge, But vertue quickly made him knowne, and admiration bred him such authoritie, that though they of whose side he came knew him not, yet they all knew it was fitte to obey him: and while he was followed by the valiantest, hee made way
for the vilest. For, taking part with the besiegers, he made the Amphialians bloud serue for a caparison to his horse, and a decking to his armour. His arme no oftner gaue blowes, then the blowes gaue wounds, then the wounds gaue deathes: so terrible was his force, and yet was his quicknes more forcible then his force, and his iudgement more quick then his quicknes. For though his sword went faster then eyesight could follow it, yet his owne iudgement went still before it. There died of his hand, Sarpedon, Plistonax, Strophilus, and Hippolitus, men of great proofe in warres, and who had that day vndertaken the guard of Amphialus. But while they sought to saue him, they lost the fortresses that Nature had placed them in. Then slew he Megalus, who was a little before proude, to see himselfe stained in the bloud of his enemies: but when his owne bloud came to be married to theirs, he then felt, that Crueltie dooth neuer enioy a good cheape glorie. After him sent he Palemon, who had that daye vowed (with foolish brauerie) to be the death of tenne: and nine already he had killed, and was careful to performe his (almost performed) vowe, when the Blacke Knight helpt him to make vp the tenth himselfe.
And now the often-changing Fortune began also to chaunge the hewe of the battailes. For at the first, though it were terrible, yet Terror was deckt so brauelie with rich furniture, guilt swords, shining armours, pleasant pensils, that the eye with delight had scarce leasure to be afraide: But now all vniuersally defiled with dust, bloud, broken armours, mangled bodies, tooke away the maske, and sette foorth Horror in his owne horrible manner. But neither could danger be dreadfull to Amphialus his vndismayable courage, nor yet seeme o
•
gly to him, whose truely-affected minde, did still paint it ouer with the beautie of Philoclea. And therefore he, rather enflamed then troubled with the encrease of dangers, and glad to finde a woorthie subiect to exercise his courage, sought out this newe Knight, whom he might easilie finde: for he, like a wanton rich man, that throwes downe his neighbours houses, to make himselfe the better prospecte, so had his sworde made him so spatious a roome, that Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding, then labour for the seeking: which, if it stirred hate in him, to see how much harme he did to the one side, it prouoked as much emulation in him, to perceaue how much good he did to the other side. Therefore, they approaching one to the other, as in two beautifull folkes, Loue naturally stirres a desire of ioyning, so in their two courages Hate stirred a desire of triall. Then began there a combatte betweene them, worthy to haue had more large listes, and more quiet beholders: for with the spurre of Courage, and the bitte of Respect, each so guided himselfe, that one might well see, the desire to ouercome, made them not forget how to ouercome: in such time and proportion they did employ their blowes, that none of Ceres seruaunts could more cunningly place his flaile: while the left foote spurre set forward his owne horse, the right set backward the contrarie horse, euen sometimes by the aduauntage of the enemies legge, while the left hande (like him that helde the sterne) guyded the horses obedient courage: All done in such order, that it might seeme, the minde was a right Prince indeede, who sent wise and diligent Lieutenants into each of those well gouerned partes. But the more they fought, the more they desired to fight; and the more they smarted, the lesse they felte the smarte: and now were like to make a quicke proofe, to whome Fortune or Valour would seeme most friendly, when in comes an olde Gouernour of Amphialus, alwayes a good Knight, and carefull
of his charge; who giuing a sore wound to the blacke Knights thigh, while he thought not of him, with an other blowe slewe his horse vnder him. Amphialus cried to him, that he dishonoured him: You say well (answered the olde Knight) to stand now like a priuate souldier, setting your credite vpon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius with all his hoste, is getting betweene you and your towne. He looked that way, and found that true indeede, that the enemie was beginning to encompasse him about, and stoppe his returne: and therefore causing the retreite to be sounded, his Gouernour ledde his men homeward, while hee kept himselfe still hindmost, as if hee had stoode at the gate of a sluse, to let the streame goe, with such proportion, as should seeme good vnto him: and with so manfull discretion perfourmed it, that (though with losse of many of his men) he returned in him selfe safe, and content, that his enemies had felte, how sharpe the sworde could bite of Philocleas Louer. The other partie being sorie for the losse of Philanax, was yet sorrier when the blacke Knight could not be found. For he hauing gotten a horse, whom his dying master had bequeathed to the world, finding him selfe sore hurt, and not desirous to be knowen, had in the time of the enemies retiring, retired away also: his thigh not bleeding bloud so fast, as his harte bledde reuenge. But Basilius hauing attempted in vaine to barre the safe returne of Amphialus, encamped himselfe as strongly as he could, while he (to his griefe) might heare the ioy was made in the towne by his owne subiects, that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus (being well beloued of that people) when they saw him not vanquished, they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a flourishing shew vpon his worthinesse, and his great nobilitie ennobling his dangers.
But the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to visite Philoclea, and first presuming to cause his dreame to be song vnto her (which he had seen the night before he fell in loue with her) making a fine boy he had, accorde a prettie dolefulnes vnto it. The song was this.
NOw was our heau'nly vaulte depriued of the light
With Sunnes depart: and now the darkenes of the night
Did light those beamy stars which greater light did darke:
Now each thing that enioy'd that firie quickning sparke
(Which life is cald) were mou'd their spirits to repose,
And wanting vse of eyes their eyes began to close:
A silence sweet each where with one consent embraste
(A musique sweet to one in carefull musing plaste)
And mother Earth, now clad in mourning weeds, did breath
A dull desire to kisse the image of our death:
When I, disgraced wretch, not wretched then, did giue
My senses such reliefe, as they which quiet liue,
Whose braines broile not in woes, nor brests with beatings ake,
With natures praise are wont in safest home to take.
Far from my thoughts was ought, whereto their minds aspire,
Who vnder courtly pompes doo hatch a base desire.
Free all my powers were from those captiuing snares,
Which heau'nly purest gifts defile in muddy cares.
Ne could my soule it selfe accuse of such a faulte,
As tender conscience might with furious pangs assaulte
•
But like the feeble flower (whose stalke cannot sustaine
His weighty top) his top downeward doth drooping leane:
Or as the silly birde in well acquainted nest
Doth hide his head with cares but onely how to rest:
So I in simple course, and vnentangled minde
Did suffer drousie lids mine eyes then cleare to blinde;
And laying downe my head, did natures rule obserue,
Which senses vp doth shut the senses to preserue.
They first their vse forgot, then fancies lost their force;
Till deadly sleepe at length possest my liuing coarse.
A liuing coarse I lay: but ah, my wakefull minde
(Which made of heau'nly stuffe no mortall chaunge doth blind)
Flew vp with freer wings of fleshly bondage free;
And hauing plaste my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me.
Me thought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood
Of Samothea lande; a lande, which whilom stood
An honour to the world, while Honour was their ende,
And while their line of yeares they did in vertue spende.
But there I was, and there my calmie thoughts I fedd
On Natures sweet repast, as healthfull senses ledd.
Her giftes my study was, her beauties were my sporte:
My worke her workes to know, her dwelling my resorte.
Those lamps of heau'nly fire to fixed motion bound,
The euer-turning spheares, the neuer-mouing ground;
What essence dest'nie hath; if fortune be or no;
Whence our immortall soules to mortall earth doo flowe:
What life it is, and how that all these liues doo gather,
With outward makers force, or like an inward father.
Such thoughts, me thought, I thought, and straind my single mind
Then void of neerer cares, the depth of things to find.
When lo with hugest noise (such noise a tower makes
When it blowne downe with winde a fall of ruine takes)
(Or such a noise it was, as highest thunders sende,
Or canons thunder-like, all shot togither, lende)
The Moone a sunder rent; whereout with sodaine fall
(More swift then falcons stoope to feeding Falconers call)
There came a chariot faire by doues and sparrowes guided:
Whose stormelike course staid not till hard by me it bided.
I wretch astonisht was, and thought the deathfull doome
Of heauen, of earth, of hell, of time and place was come.
But streight there issued forth two Ladies (Ladies sure
They seemd to me) on whom did wait a Virgin pure,
Straunge were the Ladies weeds; yet more vnfit then strange.
The first with cloth's tuckt vp as Nymphes in woods do range;
Tuckt vp euen with the knees, with bowe and arrowes prest:
Her right arme naked was, discouered was her brest.
But heauy was her pace, and such a meagre cheere,
As little hunting minde (God knowes) did there appeere.
The other had with arte (more then our women knowe,
As stuffe meant for the sale set out to glaring showe)
A wanton womans face, and with curld knots had twinde
Her haire, which by the helpe of painters cunning, shinde.
When I such guests did see come out of such a house,
The mountaines great with childe I thought brought foorth a mouse.
But walking forth, the first thus to the second saide,
Venus come on: said she, Diane you are obaide.
Those names abasht me much, when those great names I hard:
Although their fame (me seemd) from truth had greatly iard.
As I thus musing stood, Diana cald to her
The waiting Nymphe, a Nymphe that did excell as farr
All things that earst I sawe, as orient pearles exceed,
That which their mother hight, or els their silly seed.
Indeed a perfect hewe, indeed a sweet consent
Of all those Graces giftes the heauens haue euer lent.
And so she was attirde, as one that did not prize
Too much her peerles parts, nor yet could them despise.
But cald, she came apace; a pace wherein did moue
The bande of beauties all, the little world of Loue.
And bending humbled eyes (ô eyes the Sunne of sight)
She waited mistresse will: who thus disclosd her spright.
Sweet Mira mine (quoth she) the pleasure of my minde,
In whom of all my rules the perfect proofe I finde,
To onely thee thou seest we graunt this speciall grace
Vs to attend, in this most priuate time and place.
Be silent therefore now, and so be silent still
Of that thou seest: close vp in secrete knot thy will.
She answer'd was with looke, and well perform'd behest:
And Mira I admirde: her shape sonke in my brest.
But thus with irefull eyes, and face that shooke with spite
Diana did begin. What moude me to inuite
Your presence (sister deare) first to my Moony spheare,
And hither now, vouchsafe to take with willing eare.
I know full well you know, what discord long hath raign'd
Betwixt vs two; how much that discord foule hath stain'd
Both our estates, while each the other did depraue,
Proofe speakes too much to vs that feeling triall haue.
Our names are quite forgot, our temples are defac'd:
Our offrings spoil'd, our priests from priesthood are displac'd.
Is this the fruite of strife? those thousand churches hie,
Those thousand altars faire now in the dust to lie?
In mortall mindes our mindes but planets names preserue:
No knees once bowed, forsooth, for them they say we serue.
Are we their seruants growne? no doubt a noble staye:
Celestiall powers to wormes, Ioues children serue to claye.
But such they say we be: this praise our discord bred,
While we for mutuall spight, a striuing passion fed.
But let vs wiser be; and what foule discorde brake,
So much more strong againe let fastest concorde make.
Our yeares doo it require: you see we both doo feele
The weakning worke of Times for euer-whirling wheele.
Although we be diuine, our grandsire Saturne is
With ages force decay'd, yet once the heauen was his.
And now before we seeke by wise Apollos skill
Our young yeares to renew (for so he saith he will)
Let vs a perfect peace betweene vs two resolue:
Which lest the ruinous want of gouernment dissolue,
Let one the Princesse be, to her the other yeeld:
For vaine equalitie is but contentions field.
And let her haue the giftes that should in both remaine:
In her let beautie both, and chastnesse fully raigne.
So as if I preuaile, you giue your giftes to me:
If you, on you I lay what in my office be.
Now resteth onely this, which of vs two is she,
To whom precedence shall of both accorded be.
For that (so that you like) hereby doth lie a youth
(She beckned vnto-me) as yet of spotlesse truth,
Who may this doubt discerne: for better, witt, then lot
Becommeth vs: in vs fortune determines not.
This crowne of amber faire (an amber crowne she held)
To worthiest let him giue, when both he hath beheld:
And be it as he saith. Venus was glad to heare
Such proffer made, which she well showd with smiling cheere.
As though she were the same, as when by Paris doome
She had chiefe Goddesses in beautie ouercome.
And smirkly thus gan say. I neuer sought debate
Diana deare; my minde to loue and not to hate
Was euer apt: but you my pastimes did despise.
I neuer spited you, but thought you ouerwise.
Now kindnesse profred is, none kinder is then I:
And so most ready am this meane of peace to trie.
And let him be our iudge: the lad doth please me well.
Thus both did come to me, and both began to tell
(For both togither spake, each loth to be behinde)
That they by solemne oth their Deities would binde
To stand vnto my will: their will they made me know.
I that was first agast, when first I saw their showe:
Now bolder waxt, waxt prowde, that I such sway must beare:
For neere acquaintance dooth diminish reuerent feare.
And hauing bound them fast by Styx, they should obaye
To all what I decreed, did thus my verdict saye.
How ill both you can rule, well hath your discord taught:
Ne yet for ought I see, your beauties merit ought.
To yonder Nymphe therefore (to Mira I did point)
The crowne aboue you both for euer I appoint.
I would haue spoken out: but out they both did crie;
Fie, fie, what haue we done? vngodly rebell fie.
But now we needs must yeelde, to that our othes require.
Yet thou shalt not go free (quoth Venus) such a fire
Her beautie kindle shall within thy foolish minde,
That thou full oft shalt wish thy iudging eyes were blinde.
Nay then (Diana said) the chastnesse I will giue
In ashes of despaire (though burnt) shall make thee liue.
Nay thou (said both) shalt see such beames shine in her face
That thou shalt neuer dare seeke helpe of wretched case.
And with that cursed curse away to heauen they fled,
First hauing all their giftes vpon faire Mira spred.
The rest I cannot tell, for therewithall I wak'd
And found with deadly feare that all my sinewes shak'd.
Was it a dreame? O dreame, how hast thou wrought in me,
That I things erst vnseene should first in dreaming see?
And thou ô traytour Sleepe, made for to be our rest,
How hast thou framde the paine wherewith I am opprest?
O cowarde Cupid thus doost thou thy honour keepe,
Vnarmde (alas) vnwarn'd to take a man asleepe?
Laying not onely the conquests, but the hart of the conquerour at her feet. *** But she receiuing him after her woonted sorrowfull (but otherwise vnmoued) mā
ner, it made him thinke, his good successe was but as a pleasant monumēt of a dolefull buriall: Ioy it selfe seeming bitter vnto him, since it agreed not to her taste.
Therefore, still crauing his mothers helpe to persuade her, he himselfe sent for
Philanax vnto him, whome he had not onely long hated, but now had his hate greatly encreased by the death of his Squire Ismenus. Besides he had made him as one of the chiefe causes that mooued him to this rebellion, and therefore was enclined (to colour the better his action, and the more to embrewe the handes of his accomplices by making them guiltie of such a trespasse) in some formall sort to cause him to be executed: being also greatly egged thereunto by his mother, and some other, who long had hated Philanax, onely because he was more worthy, then they to be loued.
But while that deliberation was handeled, according rather to the humour then the reason of ech speaker, Philoclea comming to knowledge of the hard plight wherein Philanax stood, she desired one of the gentlewomen appoynted to waite vpon her, to goe in her name, and beseech Amphialus, that if the loue of her had any power of perswasion in his minde, he would lay no further punishment, then imprisonment, vppon Philanax. This message was deliuered euen as Philanax was entring to the presence of Amphialus, comming (according to the warning was giuen him) to receyue a iudgement of death. But when he with manfull resolution attended the fruite of such a tyrannicall sentence, thinking it wrong, but
no harme to him that shoulde die in so good a cause; Amphialus turned quite the fourme of his pretended speech, & yeelded him humble thankes, that by his meanes he had come to that happinesse, as to receiue a commaundement of his Ladie: and therfore he willingly gaue him libertie to returne in safetye whether he would, quiting him, not onely of all former grudge, but assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friendshipp, and seruice: onely desiring thus much of him, that hee would let him know the discourse and intent of Basilius-his proceeding.
Truely my Lorde (answered Philanax) if there were any such knowne to mee, secrete in my maisters counsaile, as that the reuealing thereof might hinder his good successe, I should loath the keeping of my blood, with the losse of my faith; & would thinke the iust name of a traitour a hearde purchase of a fewe yeares liuing. But since it is so, that my maister hath indeede no way of priuie practise, but meanes openly & forcibly to deale against you, I will not sticke in few words to make your required declaration. Then told he him in what a maze of a mazemēt, both Basilius & Gynecia
were, when they mist their childrē & Zelmane. Somtimes apt to suspect some practise of Zelmane, because she was a straunger; somtimes doubting some reliques of the late mutinie, which doubt was rather encreased, thē any way satisfied, by Miso: who (being foūd, almost dead for hunger, by certaine Countrey-people) brought home word, with what cūning they were trayned out, & with what violence they were caried away. But that within a few dayes they came to knowledge wher they were, by Amphialus-his own letters sent abroad to procure cōfederates in his attemptes. That Basilius his purpose was neuer to leaue the sieg of this town, til he had takē it, & reuē
ged the iniurie done vnto him. That he meant rather to winne it by time, & famine, then by force of assault: knowing howe valiant men he had to deale withall in the towne: that he had sent order, that supplyes of souldiours, pioners, and all thinges else necessarie, should dayly be brought vnto him: so as, my Lord (sayde Philanax) let me nowe, hauing receyued my life by your grace. let me giue you your life and and honour by my counsaile; protesting vnto you, that I cannot choose but loue you, being my maister-his nephewe; and that I wish you well in all causes but this, You knowe his nature is as apte to forgiue, as his power is able to conquere. Your fault passed is excusable, in that Loue perswaded, and youth was perswaded. Doo not vrge the effects of angrie victorie, but rather seeke to obtaine that constantly by courtesie, which you can neuer assuredly enioy by violence. One might easily haue seene in the cheare of Amphialus, that disdainfull choller would faine haue made the aunswere for him, but the remembraunce of Philoclea serued for forcible barriers betweene Anger, and angry effects: so as he said no more, but that he woulde not put him to the trouble to giue him any further counsaile: But that hee might returne, if hee listed, presently. Philanax glad to receyue an vncorrupted libertie, humbly accepted his fauourable conuoy out of the towne; and so departed, not visitinge the Princesses, thinking it might be offensiue to Amphialus, and no way fruitfull to them who were no way but by force to be reskued.
The poore Ladies indeede, not suffered either to meet together, or to haue conference with any other, but such as Cecropia had alreadie framed to sing al their songs to her tune, she herselfe omitting no day, and catching holde of euerie occasion to mooue forwarde her sonnes desire, and remoue their owne resolutions: vsing the same arguments to the one sister, as to the other; determining that whom she could winne first, the other shoulde (without her sonnes knowledge) by poyson be made
away. But though the reasons were the same to both, yet the handling was diuerse, according as she saw their humours to prepare a more or lesse aptnesse of apprehension. This day hauing vsed long speech to Philoclea, amplifying not a little the great duetifulnesse her sonne had shewed in deliuering Philanax: of whom she could get no aunswere, but a silence sealed vp in vertue, & so sweetly graced, as that in one instant it caried with it both resistance, and humblenes: Cecropia threatning in her selfe to rūne a more rugged race with her, went to her sister Pamela: who that day hauing wearied her self with reading, & with the height of her hart disdaining to keep companie with any of the Gentlewomē appointed to attend her, whome she accounted her iaylours, was working vppō a purse certain Roses & Lillies, as by the finenesse of the worke, one might see she had borowed her wittes of the sorow that then owed them, & lent them wholy to that exercise. For the flowers shee had wrought, caried such life in thē, that the cūningest painter might haue learned of her needle: which with so prety a maner made his careers to & fro through the cloth, as if the needle it self wold haue ben loth to haue gone frōward such a mistres, but that it hoped to return thitherward very quickly againe: the cloth loking with many eies vpon her, & louingly embracing the wounds she gaue it: the sheares also were at hand to behead the silke, that was grown to short. And if at any time she put her mouth to bite it off it seemed, that where she had beene long in making of a Rose with her hands, shee would in an instāt make Roses with her lips; as the Lillies semed to haue their whitenesse, rather of the hand that made them, then of the matter wherof the were made; & that they grew therby the Sūnes of her eys, & were refreshed by the most indiscō
fort comfortable ayre, which an vnwares sigh might bestow vpon them. But the colours for the ground were so well chosen, neither sullenly darke, nor glaringly lightsome, & so wel proportioned, as that, though much cunning were in it, yet it was but to serue for an ornament of the principall woorke; that it was not without maruaile to see, how a mind which could cast a carelesse semblant vpon the greatest conflictes of Fortune, could commaund it selfe to take care for so small matters. Neither had she neglected the daintie dressing of her selfe: but as if it had been her mariage time to Affliction, she rather semed to remember her owne worthinesse, then the vnworthinesse of her husband. For wel one might perceyue she had not reiected the counsaile of a glasse, & that her hands had pleased themselues, in paying the tribute of vndeceyuing skill, to so high perfections of Nature.
The sight whereof so diuerse from her sister, (who rather suffered sorrowe to dresse it selfe in her beautie, then that she would bestow any intertainment of so vnwelcome a guest made Cecropia take a suddaine assurednesse of hope, that she should obtaine somewhat of Pamela: thinking (according to the squaring out of her owne good nature) that beautie, carefully set foorth, woulde soone proue a signe of an vnrefusing harborough. Animated wherewith, shee sate downe by Pamela: and taking the purse, and with affected curiositie looking vpon the worke, Full happie is he (saide she) at least if hee knew his owne happinesse, to whom a purse in this maner, and by this hand wrought, is dedicated. In faith he shall haue cause to account it, not as a purse for treasure, but as a treasure it selfe, worthie to bee pursed vp in the purse of his owne hart. And thinke you so indeede (saide Pamela halfe smiling) I promise you I wrought it, but to make some tedious houres beleeue, that I thought not of them: for else I valued it, but euen as a verie purse. It is the right nature (saide Cecropia) of Beauty, to worke vnwitting effectes of wonder. Truely (saide Pamela) I neuer thought till now, that this outward glasse, intitled Beautie, which it pleaseth
you to lay to my (as I thinke) vnguiltie charge, was but a pleasaunt mixture of naturall colours, delightfull to the eye, as musicke is to the eare, without any further consequence: since it is a thing, which not onely beastes haue; but euen stones and trees many of them doo greatly excell in it. That other thinges (answered Cecropia) haue some portion of it, takes not away the excellencie of it, where indeede it doth excell: since we see, that euen those beastes, trees, & stones, are in the name of Beauty onely highly praised. But that the beautie of humaine persons be beyond al other things there is great likelihood of reason, since to them onely is giuen the iudgement to discerne Beautie; and among reasonable wightes, as it seemes, that our sex hath the preheminence, so that in that preheminence, Nature counteruailes al other liberalities, wherein she may bee thought to haue dealte more fauourably towarde mankind. How doo men crowne (thinke you) themselues with glorie, for hauing either by force brought others to yeelde to their minde, or with long studie, and premeditated orations, perswaded what they would haue perswaded? and see, a faire woman shall not onely commaund without authoritie, but perswade without speaking. She shall not neede to procure attention, for their owne eyes will chaine their eares vnto it. Men venture liues to cōquere; she conqueres liues without venturing. She is serued, and obeyed, which is the most notable, not because the lawe: so commaund it, but because they become lawes themselues to obey her; not for her parents sake, but for her own sake. She need not dispute, whether to gouerne by Feare or Loue, since without her thinking thereof, their loue will bring foorth feare, and their feare will fortifie their loue: and shee neede not seeke offensiue, or defensiue force, since her onely lippes may stande for ten thousand shieldes, and tenne thousand vneuitable shot goe from her eyes. Beautie, Beautie (deere Neece) is the crowne of the feminine greatnes; which gifte, on whom soeuer the heauens (therein most nigardly) do bestowe, without question, she is bound to vse it to the noble purpose, for which it is created: not onely winning, but preseruing; since that indeede is the right happines, which is not onely in itselfe happie, but can also deriue the happines to another. Certainly Aunt (said Pamela) I feare me you will make me not only think my selfe fairer then euer I did, but think my fairenes a matter of greater valew then heretofore I could imagine it. For I euer (til now) conceaued these conquests you speake of, rather to proceed from the weakenes of the conquered, then from the strength of the conquering power: as they say, the Cranes ouerthrow whole battailes of Pygmees, not so much of their Cranish courage, as because the other are Pygmees, and that wee see, young babes thinke babies of woonderfull excellencie, and yet the babies are but babies. But since your elder yeares, & abler iudgement, finde Beautie to be worthy of so incomparable estimation, certainly me thinks it ought to be held in dearnes, according to the excellencie, and (no more then we would do of things which we account pretious) euer to suffer it to be defiled.
Defiled? (saide Cecropia) Mary God forbid that my speech shoulde tend to any such purpose, as should deserue so foul a title. My meaning is to ioyne your beauty to loue; your youth to delight. For truely, as coulours should be as good as nothing if there were no eyes to behold them: so is Beauty nothing, without the eye of Loue behold it: and therfore, so far is it from defiling it, that it is the onely honoring of it, the onely preseruing of it: for Beauty goes awaye, deuoured by Time, but where remaines it euer flourishing, but in the hart of a true louer? And such a one (if euer there were any) is my son: whose loue is so subiected vnto you, that rather thē breed
any offence vnto you, it will not delight it selfe in beholding you. There is no effect of his loue (answered Pamela) better pleaseth mee then that: but as I haue often answered you, so, resolutely I say vnto you, that he must get my parents consent, and then he shall know further of my minde; for, without that, I know I should offend God. O sweet youth (said Cecropia) how vntimely subiect it is to deuotion (No, no sweet neece, let vs old folks thinke of such precise considerations; do you enioy the heauen of your age, whereof you are sure: and like good housholders, which spend those thinges that will not bee kept, so do you pleasantly enioy that, which else will bring an ouer-late repentance, when your glas shall accuse you to your face, what a change there is in you. Do you see how the spring-time is full of flowers, decking it selfe with them, and not aspiring to the fruits of Autumn? what lesson is that vnto you, but that in the april of your age, you should be like April? Let not some of them for whom alredy the graue gapeth, and perhaps enuy the felicity in you, which thē
selues cannot enioy, perswade you to lose the holde of occasion; while it may not onely be taken, but offers, nay sues to bee taken: which if it bee not now taken, wil neuer hereafter be ouertaken. Your selfe know, how your father hath refused all offers made by the greatest Princes about you, & wil you suffer your beauty to be hidden in the wrinckles of his peuish thoughts? If hee be peuish (said Pamela) yet is he my father, and how beautifull so euer I be, I am his daughter: so as God claimes at my hands obedience, and makes me no iudge of his imperfections
•
These often replies vpon conscience in Pamela; made Cecropia thinke, that there was no righter waye for her, then as shee had (in her opinion) set her in liking of Beautie, with perswasion not to suffer it to be voide of purpose,
•
o if she could make her lesse feeling of those heauenly conceipts, that then shee might easilie winde her to her croked bias. Therefore, employing the vttermost of her mischieuous witte, and speaking the more earnestly, because she spake as shee thought, shee thus dealt with her. Deare neece, or rather, deare daughter, if my affection & wish might preuaile therein, how much dooth it increase (trowe you) the earnest desire I haue of this blessed match, to see these vertues of yours knit fast with such zeale of Deuotion (indeede the best bonde) which the most politicke wittes haue founde, to holde mans witte in well doing? For, as children must first by feare bee induced to knowe that, which after (when they doo know) they are most glad of: So are these bug-beares of opiniōs brought by great Clearks into the world, to serue as shewelles to to keepe them from those faults, whereto els the vanitie of the worlde, and weakenes of senses might pull them. But in you (Neece) whose excellencie is such, as it neede not to be helde vp by the staffe of vulgar opinions, I would not you shoulde loue Vertue seruillie, for feare of I know not what, which you see not: but euen for the good effects of vertue which you see. Feare, and indeede, foolish feare, & fearefull ignorance, was the first inuenter of those conceates. For, when they hearde it thunder, not knowing the naturall cause, they thought there was some angrie body aboue, that spake so lowde: and euer the lesse they did perceiue, the more they did conceiue. Whereof they knew no cause that grew streight a miracle: foolish folkes, not marking that the alterations be but vpon particular accidents, the vniuersalitie being alwaies one. Yesterday was but as to day, and to morrow will tread the same footsteps of his foregoers: so as it is manifest inough, that all thinges follow but the course of their owne nature, sauing onely Man, who while by the pregnancie of his imagination he striues to things supernaturall, meane-while hee looseth his owne
naturall felicitie. Be wise, and that wisedome shalbe a God vnto thee; be contented, and that is thy heauen: for els to thinke that those powers (if there bee any such) aboue are moued either by the eloquence of our prayers, or in a chafe at the folly of our actions; caries asmuch reason as if flies should thinke, that men take great care which of them hums sweetest, and which of them flies nimblest.
She woulde haue spoken further to haue enlarged and confirmed her discourse: when Pamela (whose cheeks were died in the beautifullest graine of vertuous anger, with eies which glistered foorth beames of disdaine) thus interrupted her. Peace (wicked womā) peace, vnworthy to breath, that doest not acknowledge the breath-giuer; most vnworthy to haue a tongue, which speakest against him, through whom thou speakest: keepe your affection to your selfe, which like a bemired dog, would defile with fauning. You say yesterday was as to day. O foolish woman, and most miserablely foolish, since wit makes you foolish. What dooth that argue, but that there is a constancie in the euerlasting gouernour? Woulde you haue an inconstant God, since wee count a man foolish that is inconstant? He is not seene you say, and woulde you thinke him a God, who might bee seene by so wicked eyes, as yours? which yet might see enough if they were not like such, who for sport-sake willingly hood-winke themselues to receaue blowes the easier. But though I speake to you without any hope of fruite in so rotten a harte, and there bee no bodie else here to iudge of my speeches, yet be thou my witnesse, O captiuitie, that my yeares shal not be willingly guiltie of my Creators blasphemie. You saie, because we know not the causes of things; therfore feare was the mother of superstitiō: nay, because we know that each effect hath a cause, that hath engendred a true & liuely deuotion. For this goodly work of which we are, & in which we liue, hath not his being by Chaūce; on which opiniō it is beyōd meruaile by what chaūce any braine could stumble. For if it be eternall (as you would seeme to conceiue of it) Eternity, and Chaunce are things vnsufferable together. For that is chaunceable which happeneth; and if it happen, there was a time before it happned, when it might haue not happened; or els it did not happen; and so if chaunceable, not eternall. And as absurd it is to thinke that if it had a beginning, his beginning was deriued from Chaunce: for Chaunce could neuer make all things of nothing: and if there were substaunces before, which by chaunce shoulde meete to make vp this worke, thereon followes another bottomlesse pitt of absurdities. For then those substaunces must needs haue bene from euer and so eternall: and that eternall causes should bring forth chaunceable effectes, is as sensible, as that the Sunne shoulde bee the author of darkenesse. Againe, if it were chaunceable, then was it not necessarie; whereby you take away all consequents. But we see in all thinges, in some respect or other, necessitie of consequence: therefore in reason we must needs know that the causes were necessarie.
Lastly Chaunce is variable, or els it is not to be called Chaunce: but wee see this worke is steady and permanent. If nothing but Chaunce had glewed those pieces of this All, the heauie partes would haue gone infinitely downward, the light infinitely vpwarde, and so neuer haue mett to haue made vp his goodly bodie. For before there was a heauen, or a earth, there was neyther a heauen to stay the height of the rising, nor an earth, which (in respect of the round walles of heauen) should become a centre. Lastly, perfect order, perfect beautie, perfect constancie, if these be the children of Chaunce, let wisedome be counted the roote of wickednesse. But you will say it is so by nature, as much as if you saide it is so, because it is so: if you meane of
many natures conspiring together, as in a popular gouernemēt to establish this faire estate; as if the Elementishe and ethereall partes shoulde in their towne-house set downe the bounds of each ones office; then consider what followes: that there must needes haue bene a wisedome which made them concurre: for their natures beyng absolute contrarie, in nature rather would haue sought each others ruine, then haue serued as well consorted partes to such an vnexpressable harmonie. For that contrary things should meete to make vp a perfection without a force and Wisedome aboue their powers, is absolutely impossible; vnles you will flie to that hissed-out opinion of Chaunce againe. But you may perhaps affirme, that one vniuersal Nature (which hath ben for euer) is the knitting together of these many partes to such an excellent vnitie. If you meane a Nature of wisdome, goodnes, & prouidence, which knowes what it doth, then say you that, which I seeke of you, and cannot conclude those blasphemies, whith which you defiled your mouth, & mine eares. But if you meane a Nature, as we speake of the fire, which goeth vpward, it knowes not why: and of the nature of the Sea which in ebbing and flowing semes to obserue so iust a daunce and yet vnderstands no musicke, it is but still the same absurditie superscribed with another title. For this worde, one, being attributed to that which is All, is but one mingling of many, and many ones; as in a lesse matter, when we say one kingdome which conteines many citties; or one cittie which conteines many persons, wherein the vnder ones (if there be not a superiour power and wisedome) cannot by nature regarde to any preseruation but of themselues: no more wee see they doo, since the water willingly quenches the fire, and drownes the earth; so farre are they from a conspired vnitie: but that a right heauenly Nature indeed, as it were vnnaturinge them, doth so bridle them.
Againe, it is as absurde in nature that from an vnitie many contraries should proceede still kept in a vnitie: as that from the number of contrarieties an vnitie should arise. I say still, if you banish both a singularitie, and pluralitie of iudgement from among them then (if so earthly a minde can lift it selfe vp so hie) doo but conceaue, how a thing whereto you giue the highest, and most excellent kind of being (which is eternitie) can be of a base & vilest degree of being, and next to a not-being; which is so to be, as not to enioy his owne being? I will not here call all your senses to witnes which can heare, nor see nothing, which yeeldes not most euident euidence of of the vnspeakeablenesse of that Wisedome: each thinge being directed to an ende, and an ende of preseruation: so proper effects of iudgement, as speaking, and laughing are of mankind.
But what madd furie can euer so enueagle any conceipte, as to see our mortal and corruptible selues to haue a reason, and that this vniuersalitie (whereof wee are but the lest pieces) shoulde bee vtterly deuoide thereof? as if one shoulde saie, that ones foote might be wise, and him selfe foolish. This hearde I once alledged against such a godlesse minde as yours, who being driuen to acknowledge this beastly absurditie that our bodies should be better then the whole worlde, if it had the knowledge, whereof the other were voide; he sought (not able to answere directly) to shifte it off in this sorte: that if that reason were true, then must it followe also, that the world must haue in it a spirite, that could write and read too, and be learned; since that was in vs commendable: wretched foole, not considering that Bookes bee but supplies of defects; and so are praysed, because they helpe our want, and therefore cannot be incident to the eternall intelligence, which needes no recording of opinions to confirme
his knowledge, no more then the Sunne wants waxe to be the fewell of his glorious lightfulnes. This world therfore cannot otherwise consist but by a minde of Wisedome, which gouernes it, which whether you will allow to be
•
the Creator thereof, as vndoubtedly he is, or the soule and gouernour thereof, most certaine it is that whether he gouerne all, or make all, his power is aboue either his creatures, or his gouernement. And if his power be aboue all thinges, then consequently it must needes be infinite, since there is nothing aboue it to limit it. For beyond which there is nothing, must needes be boundlesse, and infinite: if his power be infinite, then likewise must his knowledge be infinite: for else there should be an infinite proportion of power which he should not know how to vse; the vnsensiblenesse whereof I thinke euen you can conceaue: and if infinite, then must nothing, no not the estate of flies (which you with so vnsauerie skorne did iest at) be vnknowne vnto him. For if it were, then there were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite: if knowledge and power be infinite, then must needs his goodnesse and iustice march in the same rancke: for infinitenes of power, and knowledge, without like measure of goodnesse, must necessarily bring foorth destruction and ruine, and not ornament and preseruation. Since then there is a God, and an all-knowing God, so as he sees into the darkest of all naturall secretes, which is the hart of Man; and sees therein the deepest dissembled thoughts, nay sees the thoughts before they be thought: since he is iust to exercise his might, and mightie to performe his iustice, assure thy selfe, most wicked woman (that hast so plaguily a corrupted minde, as thou canst not keepe thy sickenesse to thy selfe, but must most wickedly infect others) assure thy selfe, I say, (for what I say dependes of euerlasting and vnremooueable causes) that the time will come, when thou shalt knowe that power by feeling it, when thou shalt see his wisedome in the manifesting thy ougly shamefulnes, and shalt onely perceiue him to haue bene a Creator in thy destruction.
Thus she saide, thus she ended, with so faire maiestie of vnconquered vertue, that captiuitie might seeme to haue authoritie ouer tyrannie: so fowly was the filthinesse of impietie discouered by the shining of her vnstayned goodnes, so farre, as either Cecropia saw indeed, or else the guilty amazement of a selfe-accusing conscience, made her eies vntrue iudges of their naturall obiect, that there was a light more then humaine, which gaue a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia, like a Batte (which though it haue eyes to discerne that there is a Sunne, yet hath so euill eyes, that it cannot delight in the Sunne) found a trueth, but could not loue it. But as great persons are woont to make the wrong they haue done, to be a cause to doo the more wrong, her knowledge rose to no higher point, but to enu
•
e a worthier, and her will was no otherwise bent, but the more to hate, the more she found her enemie prouided against her. Yet all the while she spake (though with eyes cast like a horse that would strike at the stirrop, and with colour which blushed through yellownesse) she sate rather still then quiet, and after her speech rather muttered, then replied: for the warre of wickednesse in her selfe, brought forth disdainefull pride to resist cunning dissimulation; so as, saying little more vnto her, but that she should haue leysure inough better to bethinke her selfe; she went away repining, but not repenting: condemning greatly (as she thought) her sonnes ouer-feeble humblenesse, and purposing to egge him forward to a course of violence. For her selfe, determining to deale wi
•
h neither of them both any more in
maner of a suter: for what maiestie of vertue did in the one, that did silent humblenesse in the other. But finding her sonne ouer-apt to lay both condemnation, and execution of sorrow vpon himselfe, she sought to mitigate his minde with feigned delayes of comfort, who (hauing this inward ouerthrow in himselfe) was the more vexed, that he could not vtter the rage thereof vpon his outward enemies.
For Basilius taught by the last dayes triall, what daungerous effectes chosen courages can bring forth, rather vsed the spade, then the sworde; or the sworde, but to defende the spade; girding about the whole towne with trenches; which beginning a good way off from the towne, with a number of well directed Pioners, he still caryed before him till they came to a neere distance, where he builded Fortes, one answering the other, in such sort, as it was a pretie consideration in the discipline of warre, to see building vsed for the instrument of ruine, and the assayler entrenched as if he were besieged. But many sallies did Amphialus make to hinder their working. But they (exercising more melancholie, then choller in their resolution) made him finde, that if by the aduauntage of place, fewe are able to defende themselues from manie, that manie must needes haue power, (making themselues strong in seate) to repell fewe; referring the reuenge rather to the ende, then a present requitall. Yet oftentimes they dealt some blowes in light skirmishes, eche side hauing a strong retyring place, and rather fighting with manie alarums, to vexe the enemie, then for anie hope of great successe.
Which euerie way was a tedious comber to the impacient courage of Amphialus: till the fame of this warre, bringing thither diuerse, both straungers, and subiects, as well of princely, as noble houses, the gallant Phalantus, who refrained his sportfull delightes as then, to serue Basilius, (whome he honoured for receyued honours) when he had spent some time in considering the Arcadian manner in marching, encamping, and fighting, and had learned in what points of gouernement, and obedience their discipline differed from others, and so had satisfied his minde in the knowledges, both for the cutting off the enemies helpes, and furnishing ones selfe, which Basilius orders could deliuer vnto him, his yong spirits (wearie of wanting cause to be wearie) desired to keepe his valure in knowledge, by some priuate acte, since the publique policie restrayned him; the rather, because his olde mistresse Artesia might see, whome she had so lightly forsaken: and therefore demaunding and obteyning leaue of Basilius; he caused a Heraulde to be furnished with apparell of his office, and tokens of a peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the towne to demaunde audience of Amphialus: who vnderstanding thereof, caused him both safely, and courteously to be brought into his presence: who making lowly reuerence vnto him, presented his Letters, desiring Amphialus that whatsoeuer they conteyned, he would consider that he was onely the bearer, and not the inditer.
Amphialus with noble gentlenesse assured him both, by honourable speeches, and a demeanure which aunswered for him, that his reuenge, whensoeuer, should sort vnto it selfe a higher subiect. But opening the Letters, he found them to speake in this maner.
PHalantus of Corinthe, to Amphialus of Arcadia, sendeth the greeting of a hatelesse enemie. The liking of martiall matters without anie mislike of your person,
hath brought me rather to the companie, then to the minde of your besiegers: where languishing in idlenesse, I desire to refresh my minde with some exercise of armes, which might make knowne the dooers, with delight of the beholders. Therefore, if there be any Gentleman in your Towne, that eyther for the loue of Honour, or honour of his Loue, will armed on horsebacke, with launce, and sworde, winne another, or loose himselfe, to be a prisoner at discretion of the conquerour, I will to morrowe morning by Sunne rising, with a trumpet and a Squire onely, attende him in like order furnished. The place I thinke fittest, the Iland within the Lake, because it standes so well in the view of your Castell, as that the Ladies may haue the pleasure of seeing the combate: which though it be within the commaundement of your Castell, I desire no better securitie, then the promise I make to my selfe of your vertue. I attende your aunswere, and wish you such successe as may be to your honour, rather in yeelding to that which is iust, then in mainteyning wrong by violence.
AMphialus read it with cheerefull countenance, and thinking but a little with himselfe, called for inke and paper, and wrote this aunswere.
AMphialus of Arcadia, to Phalantus of Corinthe, wisheth all his owne wishes, sauing those which may be hurtfull to another. The matter of your letters so fit for a worthy minde, and the maner so sutable to the noblenesse of the matter, giue me cause to thinke how happie I might accounte my selfe, if I coulde get such a friende, who esteeme it no small happinesse to haue mette with so noble an enemie. Your chalenge shall be aunswered, and both time, place, and weapon accepted. For your securitie from any treacherie (hauing no hostage woorthie to counteruaile you) take my woord, which I esteeme aboue all respectes. Prepare therefore your armes to fight, but not your hart to malice; since true valure needes no other whetstone, then desire of honour.
HAuing writte and sealed his letter, he deliuered it to the Heraulde, and withall tooke a faire chaine from off his owne necke, and gaue it him. And so with safe conuoy sent him away from out his Citie: and he being gone, Amphialus shewed vnto his mother, and some other of his chiefe Counsailours, what he had receyued, and howe he had aunswered: telling them withall, that he was determined to aunswere the chalenge in his owne person. His mother with prayers authorized by motherly commaundement; his olde gouernour with perswasions mingled with reprehensions, (that he would rather affect the glorie of a priuate fighter, then of a wise Generall) Clinias with falling downe at his feete, and beseeching him to remember, that all their liues depended vppon his safetie, sought all to dissuade him. But Amphialus (whose hart was enflamed with courage, and courage enflamed with affection) made an imperious resolution cutte off the tediousnesse of replyes, giuing them in charge, what they shoulde doo vppon all occasions, and particularly to deliuer the Ladies, if otherwise then well happened vnto him: onely desiring his mother, that she woulde bring Philoclea
to a window, whence she might with ease perfectly discerne the combat. And so, as soone as the morning beganne to draw dewe from the fairest greenes, to washe her face withall, against the approach of the burning Sunne, hee
went to his stable, where himselfe chose out a horse, whom (though he was neere twentie yeere olde) he preferred for a peece of sure seruice, before a great number of yonger. His colour was of a browne bay, dapled thick with black spots; his forhead marked with a white starre; to which, in all his bodie there was no part sutable, but the left foote before; his mane and taile black, and thick, of goodly, and well proportioned greatnes. He caused him to be trimmed with a sumptuous saddle of tawnie, and golde ennamell, enriched with pretious stones: his furniture was made into the fashion of the branches of a tree, from which the leaues were falling: and so artificiallie were the leaues made, that as the horse moued, it seemed indeed that the leaues wagged, as when the winde plaies with them; and being made of a pale cloath of gold, they did beare the straw-coloured liuerie of ruine. His armour was also of tawnie and golde, but formed into the figure of flames darckened, as when they newelie brake the prison of a smoakie furnace. In his shielde he had painted the Torpedo fish. And so appointed; he caused himselfe, with his trumpet and squire (whom he had taken since the death of Ismenus) to be ferried ouer into the Iland: a place well chosen for such a purpose. For, it was so plaine, as there was scarcely any bush, or hillock, either to vnleuell, or shadow it: of length and breadth enough, to trie the vttermost both of launce and sword, and the one end of it facing the castle, the other extending it selfe toward the campe, and no accesse to it, but by water: there could no secret trecherie be wrought, and for manifest violence, ether side might haue time inough to succour their party.
But there he found Phalantus, alredy waiting for him vpon a horse, milke white, but that vpon his shoulder and withers, he was freckned with red staines, as when a few strawberies are scattered into a dish of creame. He had caused his mane and taile to be died in carnation; his reines were vine branches, which ingendring one with the other, at the end, when it came to the bitte, there, for the bosse, brought foorth a cluster of grapes, by the workeman made so liuely, that it seemed, as the horse champed on his bitte, he chopped for them, and that it did make his mouth water, to see the grapes so neere him. His furniture behind was of vines, so artificially made, as it seemed the horse stood in the shadow of the vine, so pretily were clusters of rubie grapes dispersed among the trappers which embraced his sides. His armour was blew, like the heauen, which a Sun did with his rayes (proportionately deliuered) guild in most places. His shield was beautified with this deuice; A greyhound, which ouerrunning his fellow, and taking the hare, yet hurts it not when it takes it. The word was, The glorie, not the pray.
But as soone as Amphialus landed, he sent his squire to Phalantus, to tell him, that there was the Knight, redy to know whether he had any thing to say to him. Phalantus answered, that his answere now must be in the language of launces; and so each attended the warning of the trumpets, which were to sound at the appointment of foure iudges, who with cōsideration of the same, had deuided the ground.
Phalantus-his horse young, and feeling the youth of his master, stood coruetting; which being well gouerned by Phalantus, gaue such a glittering grace, as when the Sunne in a cleare day shines vpon a wauing water. Amphialus-horse stood panting vpon the ground, with his further foot before, as if he would for his masters cause begin to make himselfe angry: till the trumpet sounding together, Together they set spurres to their horses, together took their launces from their thighes, conueied them vp into their restes together, together let them sinke downward; so as it was a
delectable sight, in a dangerous effect; and a pleasant consideration, that there was so perfect agreement, in so mortall disagreement: like a musick, made of cunning discords. But their horses keeping an euen line their masters had skilfully allotted vnto them, passed one by another without encountring, although either might feel the angry breath of other. But the staues being come to a iust descent, but euen when the mark was ready to meet them, Amphialus was runne through the vamplate, and vnder the arme: so as the staffe appearing behind him, it semed to the beholders he had bene in danger. But he strake Phalantus iust vpon the gorget, so as he battred the lamms thereof, and made his head almost touch the back of his horse. But either side hauing staied the spur, & vsed the bit to stop their horses fury, casting away the troncheons of their staues, & drawing their swords, they attended the second summons of the death-threatning trumpet, which quickly folowed; and they assoone making their horses answer their hands, with a gentle galop, set one toward the other, till being come in the neernes of litle more then a staues length. Amphialus
trusting more to the strength, then to the nimblenes of his horse, put him foorth with speedie violence, and making his head ioyne to the others flanke, guiding his blow with discretion, and strengthning it with the course of his horse, strake Phalantus vpon the head, in such sort, that his feeling sense did both dazell his sight, and astonish his hearing. But Phalantus (not accustomed to be vngratefull to such benefites) strake him vpon the side of his face, with such force, that he thought his iawe had bene cut asunder: though the faithfulnes of his armour indeede garded him from further damage. And so remayned they awhile, rather angry with fighting, then fighting for anger, till Amphialus-his horse, leaning harde vpon the other, and winning grounde, the other horse feeling himselfe prest, began to rise a little before, as he was woont to doo in his coruette: which aduantage Amphialus taking, set forward his owne horse with the further spurre, so as Phalantus-his horse came ouer with his master vnder him. Which Amphialus seeing, lighted, with intention to helpe Phalantus. But his horse that had faulted, rather with vntimely arte, then want of force, gatte vp from burdning his burden, so as Phalantus (in the fall hauing gotten his feete free off the stirrop) could (though
•
omething bruised) arise, and seeing Amphialus neere him, he asked him, Whether he had giuen him any help in remouing his horse. Amphialus said No. Truely sayd Phalantus, I asked it, because I would not willingly haue fought with him, that had had my life in his mercie. But now (said Phalantus) before we proceed further, let me know who you are, because neuer yet did any man bring me to the like fortune. Amphialus listing to keepe himselfe vnknowne, told him he was a Gentlemen, to whom Amphialus that day had giuen armour and horse to trie his valour, hauing neuer before ben in any combat worthy remēbrance. Ah, (said Phalantus in a rage) And must I be the exercise of your prentis-age? and with that, choler tooke away either the bruse, or the feeling of the bruse, so as he entred a fresh into the cōbat, and boiling into his armes the disdaine of his hart, strake so thick vpon Amphialus, as if euery blow would faine haue ben foremost. But Amphialus (that many like trials had taught, great spending to leaue small remnants) let passe the storme with strong wards, and nimble auoidings: till seeing his time fit, both for distaunce & nakednes, he strake him so cruell a blow on the knee, that the poore Gentleman fell downe withall in a sowne.
But Amphialus, pittying approued valoure, made pretious by naturall curtesie, wēt to him, & taking off his head-piece to giue him aire, the young Knight (disdaining
to buy life with yeelding) bad him vse his fortune: for he was resolued neuer to yeeld. No more you shall (said Amphialus) if it be not to my request, that you will account your selfe to haue great interest in me. Phalantus more ouercome by his kindnes, then by his fortune, desired yet once againe to know his name, who in his first beginning had shewed such furie in his force, and yet such stay in his surie.
Amphialus, then named himselfe, telling him withall, he would think his name much bettred, if it might be honored by the title of his friend. But no Baulme could be more comfortable to his wound, then the knowledge thereof was to his minde, when he knew his mishap should be excused by the renowmed valour of the other. And so promising each to other assurednes of good will, Phalantus, (of whom Amphialus
would haue no other raunsome, but his word of friendship) was conueyed into the campe, where he would but litle remaine among the enimies of Amphialus: but went to seeke his aduentures other-where.
As for Amphialus he was receaued with triumph into the castle; although one might see by his eyes (humbly lifted vp to the window where Philoclea stood) that he was rather suppliaunt, then victorious: which occasion Cecropia taking, (who as then stood by Philoclea, and had lately lefte Pamela in another roome, whence also she might see the combate) Sweet Lady (said she) now you may see, whether you haue cause to loue my sonne, who then lies vnder your feete, when he standes vpon the necke of his brauest enemies. Alas said Philoclea, a simple seruice to me, me thinkes it is, to haue those, who come to succour me, destroied: If it be my dutie to call it loue, be it so: but the effects it brings foorth I confesse I account hatefull. Cecropia grew so angry with this vnkinde answere, that she could not abstayne from telling her, that she was like them that could not sleepe, when they were softly layed: but that if her sonne would follow her counsell, he should take another course with her: and so flang away from her.
Yet (knowing the desperate melancholy of Amphialus in like cases) framed to him a very thankefull message, poudring it with some hope-giuing phrases; which were of such ioy to Amphialus, that he (though against publike respect, and importunity of dissuaders) presently caused it to be made knowne to the campe, that whatsoeuer Knight would trie the like fortune as Phalantus did, he should in like sort be answered: so as diuers of the valiantest, partly of themselues, partly at the instigation of Basilius, attempted the combat with him: and according to euery ones humour, so were the causes of the challenge grounded: one laying treason to his charge; another preferring himselfe in the worthinesse to serue Philoclea; a third, exalting some Ladies beautie beyonde either of the sisters; a fourth, laying disgraces to Loue it selfe, naming it the bewitcher of the witte, the rebell to Reason, the betrayer of resolution, the defiler of thoughts, the vnderminer of magnanimitie, the flatterer of vice, the slaue to weakenes, the infection of youth, the madnes of age; the curse of life, and reproch of death; a fifth, disdayning to cast at lesse then at all, would make the cause of his quarrell the causers of loue, and proclayme his blasphemies against womankinde; that namely that sex was the ouersight of Nature, the disgrace of reasonablenes, the obstinate cowards, the slaue-borne tyrants, the shops of vanities, the guilded wethercocks; in whome cōscience is but peeuishnes, chastitie way wardnes, and gratefulnes a miracle. But all these challenges (how well so euer endited) were so well answered, that some by death taught others, though past learning themselues; and some by yeelding gaue
themselues the lie for hauing blasphemed; to the great griefe of Basilius, so to see his Rebell preuaile, and in his owne sight to crowne himselfe with deserued honour.
Whereupon thirsting for reuenge, and else not hoping to preuaile, the best of his campe being already ouerthrowne; he sent a messenger to Argalus, in whose approued courage and force, he had (and had cause) to haue great considence, with a letter; requiring him, to take this quarrell in hand, from which hee had hetherto spared him in respect of his late mariage. But now his honour, and (as he esteemed it) felicitie standing vpon it, hee coulde no longer forbeare to chalenge of him his faithfull seruice.
The messenger made speede, and found Argalus at a castle of his owne, sitting in a parler with the faire Parthenia, he reading in a booke the stories of Hercules, she by him, as to heare him reade; but while his eyes looked on the booke, shee looked on his eies, and sometimes staying him with some prety question, not so much to bee resolued of the doubte; as to giue him occasion to looke vpon her. A happy couple, he ioying in her, she ioying in her selfe, but in her selfe, because shee enioyed him: both encreasing their riches by giuing to
•
ach other; each making one life double, because they made a double life one; where desire neuer wanted satisfaction, nor satisfaction euer bred sacietie; he ruling, because she would obey: or rather because she would obey, she therein ruling.
But when the messenger came in with letters in his hand, and hast in his countenance, though she knew not what to feare, yet she feared, because she knew not; but she rose, and went aside, while hee deliuered his letters and message; yet a far off she looked, now at the messenger, and then at her husband: the same feare, which made her loth to haue cause of feare, yet making her seeke cause to nourish her feare. And well she found there was some serious matter; for her husbands countenance figured some resolution betweene lothnesse and necessitie: and once his eie cast vpon her, and finding hers vpon him, he blushed; and she blushed, because hee blushed; and yet streight grew pale, because she knew not why he had blushed. But when he had read, and heard, and dispatched away the messenger (like a man in whom Honour could not be rocked a sleepe by Affection) with promise quickly to follow; he came to Parthenia, and as sorie as might bee for parting, and yet more sorie for her sorrow, he gaue her the letter to reade. She with fearfull slownes tooke it, and with fearefull quicknesse read it; and hauing read it, Ah my Argalus (said she) and haue you made such hast to answere? and are you so soone resolued to leaue me? But hee discoursing vnto her, how much it imported his honour (which since it was deare to him, he knew it would be deare vnto her) her reason ouerclowded with sorrow, suffered her not presently to replie, but left the charge thereof to teares, and sighes; which he not able to beare, left her alone, and went to giue order for his present departure.
But by that time he was armde, & readie to go, she had recouered a little strength of spirite againe and comming out, and seing him armed, and wanting nothing
•
or his departure but her fearewell, she ran to him, tooke him by the arme, and kneeling downe without regard, who either heard her speach, or sawe her demeanour, My Argalus, my Argalus (said she) do not thus forsake me. Remēber, alas, Remēber that I haue interest in you, which I wil neuer yeeld shalbe thus aduētured. Your valour is already sufficiently knowne: sufficiently haue you already done for your country: ennow, ennow there are besides you to loose lesse worthie liues. Woe is me, what
shall become of me, if you thus abandon mee? Then was it time for you to followe these aduentures, when you aduentured no body but your self, and were no bodies but your owne. But now pardon me, that now, or neuer, I claime mine owne; mine you are, and without me you can vndertake no danger: and will you endanger Parthenia? Parthenia shalbe in the battle of your fight: Parthenia shal smart in your paine and your blood must bee bled by Parthenia. Deare Parthenia (said he) this is the first time, that euer you resisted my will: I thanke you for it; but perseuer not in it; and let not the teares of those most beloued eies be a presage vnto me of that, which you would not should happen. I shall liue, doubte not: for so great a blessing, as you are was not giuen vnto me, so soone to be depriued of it. Looke for me therefore shortly, and victorious; and prepare a ioyfull welcome, and I will wish for no other triumph. She answered not, but stood as it were thunder-striken with amazement:
•
or true Loue made obedience stand vp against al other passions. But when he tooke her in his armes, and sought to printe his harte in her sweete lippes, she fell in a sounde, so as he was faine to leaue her to her Gentlewomen: and caried away by the tyrannie of Honour, though with manie a backe-cast looke, and hartie grone, went to the campe. Where vnderstanding the notable victories of Amphialus, he thought to giue him some daies respite of rest, because he would not haue his victory disgraced by the others wearinesse. In which dayes, he sought by all meanes (hauing leaue to parley with him) to dissuade him from his enterprise: & then imparting his minde to Basilius, because he founde Amphialus was inflexible, wrote his defie vnto him in this maner.
RIght famous Amphialus, if my persuasion in reason, or prayer in good will, might preuaile with you, you should by better meanes be like to obtaine your desire. You shoulde make many braue enemies become your faithfull seruants, and and make your honor flie vp to heauen, being caried vp by both the wings of valure and iustice; whereof now it wants the latter. But since my suite, nor counsell can get no place in you, disdaine not to receiue a mortall chalenge, from a man so farre inferiour vnto you in vertue, as that I do not so much mislike of the deede, as I haue the doer in admiration. Prepare therefore your selfe, according to the noble maner you haue vsed and thinke not lightly of neuer so weake an arme, which strikes with the sworde of iustice,
To this he quickely receiued this answere.
MVch more famous Argalus, I whom neuer threatninges could make afraid, am now terrified by your noble courtesie. For well I knowe, from what height of vertue it doth proceed, and what cause I haue to doubt such vertue bent to my ruine: but Loue, which iustifieth the vniustice you lay vnto me, doth also animate me against all daungers, since I come full of him by whom your selfe haue beene (if I be not deceiued) sometimes conquered. I will therefore attend your appearaunce in the Ile, carying this aduantage with me, that as it shall be a singular honour if I get the victorie, so there can be no dishonour in being ouercome by Argalus.
The chalenge thus denounced, and accepted, Argalus was armed in a white armour, which was al guilded ouer with knots of womans haire, which came downe from the crest of his head-peece, & spred it selfe in rich quātitie ouer all his armour: his furniture was cut out into the fashion of an Egle, whereof the beake (made into
a rich iewell) was fastened to the saddle, the taile couered the crooper of the horse, and the wings serued for trappers; which falling of ech side, as the horse stirred, the bird seemed to flie. His petrell and raines, were embrodered with feathers sutable vnto it: vpō his right arme he ware a sleeue, which his deare Parthenia had made for him, to be worne in a iustes, in the time that successe was vngrateful to their well-deserued loue: it was full of bleeding hartes, though neuer intended to any blooddie enterprise. In his shield (as his owne deuice) he had two Palme trees, neere one another, with a word signifying, In that sort flourishing. His horse was of a firie sorrel, with blacke feete, & blacke list on his back, who with open nostrels breathed warre, before he could see an enemy: and now vp with one legge, and then with another, seemed to complaine of Nature, that she had made him any whit earthie.
But he had scarcely vewed the grounde of the Ilande, and considered the aduantages (if any were) thereof, before the Castel boate had deliuered Amphialus, in all pointes prouided to giue a hard entertainmen
•
. And then sending ech to other th
•
ir Squires in honourable maner, to knowe whether they should attende any further ceremony; the trumpets sounding, the horses with smooth running, the staues with vnshaked motion, obediently performed their cholericke commandementes. But when they drew nere, Argalus horse being hot, prest in with his head: which Amphialus perceiuing, knowing if he gaue him his side, it shoulde bee to his disaduauntage, prest in also with him, so as both the horses & men met shoulder to shoulder, so as the horses (hurt as much with the striking, as being striken) tumbled down to the earth, daungerously to their maisters, but that they by strength nimble, & by vse skilfull, in the falling shunned the harme of the fall, and without more respite, drewe out their swordes with a gallant brauerie, eche striuing to shewe himselfe the lesse endamaged, and to make knowne that they were glad, they had nowe nothing else to trust to, but their owne vertue. True it is, that Amphialus was the sooner vp; but Argalus had his sworde out the sooner: and then fell they to the cruellest combate, that any present eye had seene. Their swords first, like Canons, battering down the walles of their armour, making breaches almost in euerie place for troupes of wounds to enter. Amōg the rest, Argalus gaue a great wound to Amphialus disarmed face; though part of the force of it Amphialus warded vpon his shielde, and with-all (first casting his eie vp to Philocleas Window, as if he had fetched his courage thēce) feyning to entend the same sort of blow, turned his sworde, and with a mightie reuerse, gaue a cruell wounde to the right arme of Argalus, the vnfaythfull armour yeelding to the swords strong-guiuded sharpenesse. But though the blood accused the hurt of Argalus, yet would he in no action of his confesse it: but keeping himself in a lower warde, stoode watching with timely thrustes to repaire his losse; which quickly he did. For Amphialus (following his fawning fortune) laid on so thicke vpon Argalus, that his shield had almost fallen peece-meale to the earth, when Argalus
comming in with his right foot, and somthing stowping to come vnder his armour, thrust him into the belly daungerously, and mortally it woulde haue beene but that, with the blowe before, Amphialus had ouer striken himselfe so, as he fell side-ward downe, and with falling saued himselfe from ruine, The sworde by that meanes slipping aside, and not pearcing more deepely. Argalus seeing him fall, threatning with voice and sworde, bad him yeelde. But hee striuing without aunswere to rise, Argalus strake with all his might vpon his head. But his hurt arme not able to maister so sounde a force, let the swoorde fall so, as Amphialus, though astonished with
the blowe, could arispe: which Argalus considering, ranne in to grasp with him, & so closed together; falling so to the grounde, now one getting aboue, and then the other; at length, both wearie of so vnlouely embracements, with a dissending consent gate vp, and went to their swordes: but happened eche of his enemies: where Argalus finding his foes sworde garnished in his blood, his harte rase with the same swoord to reuenge it, and on that blade to allie their bloods together. But his mind was euil wayted-on by his lamed force, so as he receiued stil more & more wounds which made all his armour seeme to blush, that it had defended his master no better. But Amphialus perceiuing it, & waying the small hatefulnesse of their quarrell, with the worthinesse of the Knight, desired him to take pitie of himselfe. But Argalus,
the more repining, the more he founde himselfe in disaduauntage, filling his veynes with spite in steade of blood, and making courage arise against faintnesse, (like a Candle, which a little before it goes out, giues then the greatest blaze) so did he vnite all his force, that casting away the little remnaunt of his shielde, and taking his sword in both hands, he stroke such a notable blow, that he cleft his shield armour, and arme almost to the bone.
But then Amphialus forgat all ceremonies, & with cruell blowes made more of his best blood succeed the rest; til his hand being staied by his eare, his eare filled with a pitifull crie, the crie guided his sight to an excellent faire Ladie, who came running as fast as she could, and yet because she could not as fast as she would, shee sent her lamentable voyce before her: and being come, and being knowne to them both, to be the beautifull Parthenia, (who had that night dreamed shee saw her husbande in such estate, as shee then found him, which made her make such haste thither) they both maruailed. But Parthenia ranne between them (feare of loue making her
•
orget the feare of Nature) and then fel downe at their feete, determining so to part them, till shee coulde get breathe to sigh out her dolefull speeches: and when her breath (which running had spent, & dismayednesse made slowe to returne) had by sobbes; gotten into her sorow-closed breast, for a while she could say nothing, but, O wretched eyes of mine, O wailefull sight, O day of darkenesse: at length turning her eyes (where in sorrow swamme) to Amphialus, My Lorde (saide she) it is saide you loue; in the power of that loue, I beseech you to leaue of this combate, as euer your harte may finde comfort in his affection, euen for her sake, I craue it: or if you be mortally determined, be so pitifull vnto me, as first to kill me, that I may not see the death of Argalus. Amphialus was about to haue aunswered, when Argalus, vexed with his Fortune, but most vexed that she shoulde see him in that fortune, Ah Parthenia (said he) neuer till now vnwelcome vnto me, do you come to get my life by request? And cā
not Argalus liue but by request? Is that a life? With that he went aside, for fear of hurting her, & would haue begun the cōbate afresh. But Amphialus not only cōiured by that which held the Monarchie of his mind, but euen in his noble hart melting with cōpassion at so passionate a sight, desired him to withhold his hāds, for that he should strike one, who sought his fauour, & would not make resistaūce. A notable example of the wonderful effectes of Vertue, where the conquerour, sought for friendship of the conquered, & the conquered would not pardon the conquerour: both indeede being of that minde to loue eche other for accepting, but not for giuing mercie, & neyther af
•
ected to ouer-liue a dishonour: so that Argalus not so much striuing with
Amphialus (for if he had had him in the like sorte, in like sorte he woulde haue dealt with him) as labouring against his owne power (which he chiefly despised) set himselfe
forward, stretching his strength to the vttermost. But the fire of that strife, blowen with his inward rage, boyled out his bloud in such aboundance, that hee was driuen to rest him vpon the pommel of his sworde: and then each thing beginning to turne round in the daunce of Death before his eyes, his sight both dazled & dimmed, till (thinking to sit downe) he fel in a sowne, Parthenia, and Amphialus both hastely went vnto him: Amphialus tooke off his helmet, and Parthenia laid his head in her lap, tearing of her linnen sleues & partlet, to serue about his wounds to bind which, shee tooke of her hair-lace, and woulde haue cut of her faire haire herselfe, but that the squires and iudges came in with fitter things for the purpose: while she bewayled her selfe with so lamentable sweetnes, as was inough to haue taught sorrow to the gladdest thoughts, and haue engraued it in the mindes of hardest mettall.
O Parthenia, no more Parthenia (said she) What art thou? what seest thou? how is thy blisse in a moment fallen? how art thou, euen-now before all Ladies the example of perfect happines, and nowe the gasing-stocke of endles miserie? O God, what hath bene my desert to be thus punished? or if such haue bene my desert, why was I not in my selfe punished? O wandring life, to what wildernes wouldst thou lead me? But Sorow, I hope thou art sharp inough to saue my labour from other remedies. Argalus, Argalus, I will folow thee, I will follow thee.
But with that Argalus came out of his sowne, and lifting vp his languishing eyes (which a paineful rest, and iron sleep did seeke to lock vp) seeing her, in whom (euen dying) he liued, and him selfe seated in so beloued a place, it seemed a little cheerefull bloud came vp to his cheekes, like a burning cole, almost dead, if some breath a little reuiue it: and forcing vp (the best he coulde) his feeble voice, My deare, my better halfe (saide hee) I finde I must now leaue thee: and by that sweete hand, and faire eyes of thine I sweare, that Death bringes nothing with it to grieue me, but that I must leaue thee, and cannot remaine to answere part of thy infinit deserts, with being some comfort vnto thee. But since so it pleaseth him, whose wisedome and goodnesse guideth all, put thy confidence in him, and one day wee shall blessedly meet againe, neuer to depart: meane while liue happily, deare Parthenia, and I perswade my selfe, it will encrease the blessednes of my soule, so to see thee. Loue well the remembrance of thy louing, and truely louing, Argalus: and let not (with that word he sighed) this disgrace of mine, make thee one day thinke, thou hadst an vnwoorthie husband. They could scarcely vnderstand the last wordes: for Death began to seaze him selfe of his harte, neither coulde Parthenia make answere, so full was her breast of anguish. But while the other sought to stanch his remediles wounds, she with her kisses made him happie: for his last breath was deliuered into her mouth.
But when indeede she found his ghost was gone, then Sorrowe lost the witte of vtterance, and gro
•
e ragefull, and madde, so that shee tare her beautifull face, and rent her haire,
••••
o
•
gh they coulde serue for nothing, since Argalus was gone; till Amphialus (so
••
oued with pittie of that sight, as that hee honoured his aduersaries death with
•••
es) caused her (with the helpe of her women that came with her partelie by
••
rce, to be conueyed into the boat, with the dead body of Argalus, from which she
•
ould not depart. And being come of the other side, there she was receaued by Ba
••••
us him self, with all the funerall pompe of militarie discipline, trayling all their
•••
ignes vpon the ground, making these warlike instrumentes sound dolefull
notes, and Basilius (with comfort in his mouth, and woe in his face) sought to perswade some ease into Parthenias mind: but all was as easefull to her, as the handling of sore woundes: all the honour done, being to her but the triumph of her ruine, she finding no comfort, but in desperate yeelding to Sorrow: and rather determined to hate her selfe, if euer she shoulde finde ease thereof. And well might shee heare as she past through the Campe, the great prayses spoken of her husbande, which all were recordes of her losse. But the more excellent he was (being indeede accounted seconde to none in all Greece) the more did the breath of those praises, beare vp the winges of Amphialus-his fame: to whom yet (such was his case) that Trophe vpon Trophe, still did but builde vp the monument of his thraldome; hee euer finding himselfe in such fauour of Philoclea, that shee was most absent, when he was present with her; and euer sorriest, when he had best successe: which would haue made him renounce all comfort, but that his mother, with diuersity of deuises, kept vp his hart.
But while he allayed thus his outward glorie, with inward discomfort, hee was like to haue bene ouertaken with a notable treason, the beginning wherof (though meerely ridiculous) had like to haue brought forth vnto him a weeping effect.
Among other that attended Basilius in this expedition, Damaetas was one; whether to be present with him, or absent from Miso: once, certaine it was without any mind to make his sword cursed by any widow. Now being in the campe, while each talke semed iniurious, which did not acknowledge some duety to the fame of Amphialus, it fell out sometimes in communication, that as the speech of heauen doth often beget the mentiō of hel, so the admirable prowes of Amphialus (by a contrary) brought forth the remembrance of the cowardise of Clinias: in so much, as it grew almost to a prouerb, As very a cowarde, as Clinias. Describing him in such sort, that in the ende,
Damaetas began to thinke with himselfe, that if hee made a chalenge vnto him, hee would neuer answere it; and that then hee shoulde greatly encrease the fauourable conceite of B
•
silius. This fancie of his he vttered to a young Gentleman, that waited vpon Philanax, in whose friendship he had especiall confidence, because he haunted his company, laughing often merely at his speeches, and not a little extolling the goodly dotes of Mopsa. The young Gentleman as glad, as if hee had founde a Hare sitting, egd him on, breaking the matter with Philanax, and then (for feare the humour should quayle in him) wrote a challenge him selfe for Damaetas, and brought it to him. But when Damaetas read it, putting his head on his shoulder, and somwhat smiling; he said, it was prettie indeed; but that it had not a loftie stile enough: and so would needes indite it in this sort.
O Clinias, thou Clinias, the wickedest worme that euer went vpō two legges; the very fritter of fraude, and seething pot of iniquitie: I Damaetas, chiefe gouernour of all the royall cattel, & also of Pamela (whom thy Maister most perniciously
•
ath sug
••
sted out of my dominion) doo defie thee, in a mortall affray from the bodkin to the pike vpwarde. Which if thou doost presume to take in hande, I will out of that superfluous bodie of thine make t
••
soule to bee euacuated.
The young Gentleman seemed dumbe-striken with admiration, a
•
d presently tooke vpon him to bee the bearer thereof, while the heate of the fit la
•••
d, and hauing gotten leaue of Basilius (euery body helping on, to ease his mind o
••
rcharged
with melancholy) he went into the towne according to the manner before time vsed, and in the presence of Amphialus deliuered this letter to Clinias; desiring to haue an answere, which might be fit for his reputation. Clinias opened it, read it; and in the reading, his bloud not da
•
ing to be in so daungerous a place, went out of his face, and hid it selfe more inwardly: and his very wordes (as if they were afraide of blowes) came very slowly out of his mouth: but, aswell as his panting breath would vtter it, he bad him tell the lowte that sente him, that he disdained to haue any thing to doo with him. But Amphialus, perceauing the matter, tooke him aside, and very earnestly dealt with him not to shame himselfe; Amphialus
onely desirous to bring it to passe to make some sport to Philoclea, but not being able to perswade with him, Amphialus licenced the Gentleman, telling him, that by next morning he should haue answere.
The yong Gentleman (sory he had sped no better) returned to Damaetas, who had fetched many a sower-breathed sigh, for feare Clinias would accept the chalēge. But whē he perceiued by his trusty messenger, that this delay was in effect a denial, there being no disposition in him to accept it; then lo, Damaetas began to speake his lowd voice, to looke big, to march vp & down, & in his march to lift his legs higher then he was wont, swearing by no meane deuotions, that the wals should not keepe the coward frō him, but he would fetch him out of his connie-berrie: and then was hotter then euer to prouide himselfe of horse & armour, saying, he would go to the Iland brauely addoubed, & shew himself to his charge Pamela. To this purpose many willing hands were about him, letting him haue reynes, pettrell, with the rest of the furniture, and very braue bases; but all comming from diuers houses, nether in coulour nor fashion, shewing any kinred one with another; but that liked Damaetas
the better: for that he thought would argue, that he was maister of many braue furnitures. Then gaue he order to a painter for his deuice; which was, a plowe with the oxen lewsed from it, a sword with a great number of armes and legges cut off; and lastly a great armie of pen and inke-hornes, and bookes. Nether did he stick to tell the secrete of his intent, which was, that he had left off the plowe, to doo such bloudy deedes with his swoorde, as many inkehornes and bookes should be employed about the historifying of them: and being asked, why he set no word vnto it, he said, that was indeed like the painter, that sayeth in his picture, Here is the dog, and there is the Hare: & with that he laughed so perfectly, as was great consolation to the beholders. Yet remembring, that Miso would not take it well at his returne, if he forgat his dutie to her, he caused in a border about to be written:
Miso mine owne pigsnie, thou shalt heare news of Damaetas.
Thus all things being condignely ordered, with an ill fauoured impatiencie he waited, vntill the next morning, that he might make a muster of him selfe in the Iland; often asking them that very diligently wayted vpon him, whether it were not pittie, that such a coward, as Clinias, should fet his runaway feete vpon the face of the earth?
But as he was by diuers principall yong Gentlemen, to his no small glory, lifted vp on horsebacke, comes me a page of Amphialus, who with humble smiling reuerence deliuered a letter vnto him from Clinias: whom Amphialus had brought to this, first with perswasions (that for certaine, if he did accept the combat, Damaetas would neuer dare to appeare, and that then the honour should be his) but
〈1 page missing〉
〈1 page missing〉
and then willed him to lie downe vpon the earth as flat as he could. Clinias obeyed; and Damaetas (who neuer could thinke himselfe safe, till Clinias were dead) began to thinke with himselfe, that if he strake at him with his sworde, if he did not kill him at the first blowe, that then Clinias might happe to arise, and reuenge himselfe. Therefore he thought best to kneele downe vpon him, and with a great whittle he had (hauing disarmed his heade) to cut his throate, which he had vsed so with Calues, as he had no small dexteritie in it. But while he sought for his Knife, which vnder his armour he could not well finde out, and that Clinias lay with so sheepish a quietnes, as if he would haue beene glad to haue his throate cut for feare of more paine, the Iudges came in, and tooke Damaetas from off him, telling him he did against the lawe of Armes, hauing promised life, if hee threwe away his sworde. Damaetas was loath to consent, till they sware, they would not suffer him to fight any more, when he was vp: and then more forced, then perswaded, he let him rise, crowing ouer him, and warning him to take heede how he dealt any more with any that came of his fathers kinred. But thus this combate of cowardes being finished, Damaetas was with much mirth and melodie receiued into the campe as victorious, neuer a Page there failing to waite vpon this Triumph.
But Clinias, though he wanted hart to preuent shame, yet he wanted not wit to feele shame; not so much repining at it for the abhorring of shame, as for the discommodities, that to them that are shamed, ensue. For well he deemed, it would be a great barre to his practize, and a pulling on of iniuries, when men needed not care, how they vsed him. Insomuch, that Clinias (finding himselfe the scorning-stocke of euery companie) fell with repining to hate the cause thereof; and hate in a cowards hart, could set it selfe no other limites, but death. Which purpose was well egged on by representing vnto himselfe, what daunger he lately was in; which still kept no lesse ougly figure in his minde, then when it was present: and quickly (euen in his dissembling countenance) might be discerned a concealed grudge. For though he forced in himselfe a farre more diligent officiousnesse toward Amphialus, then euer before, yet a leering eye vpon the one side at him, a countenance still framed to smiling before him (how little cause soeuer there was of smiling) and grombling behind him, at any of his commandements, with an vncertaine manner of behauiour: his words comming out, though full of flatterie, yet slowly, and hoarcely pronounced, might well haue blazed, what armes his false hart bare. But despised, because of his cowardlinesse, and not marked, because despised, he had the freer scope of practize. Which he did the more desperately enter into, because the dayly dangers Amphialus did submit himselfe into, made Clinias assuredly looke for his ouerthrow, and for his owne consequently, if he did not redeme his former treason to Basilius, with a more treasonable falshood toward Amphialus. His chiefe care therefore was, to finde out among all sorts of the Amphialians, whom either like feare, tediousnes of the siege, or discontentment of some vnsatisfied ambition would make apt to dig in the same mine that he did: & some alredy of welthy weary folks, & vnconstāt youths (who had not found such sudden successe as they had promised thēselues) he had made stoupe to his lure. But of none he made so good account as of Artesia, sister to the late slain Ismenus, & the chiefe of the six maids, who had trained out the Princesses to their banket of miserie: so much did the sharpnes of her wit counteruaile (as he thought) any other defects of her sex: for she had vndertaken that dangerous practise by the persuasion of Cecropia;
who assured her that the two princesses should be made away; and then Amphialus wold marry her: which she was the apter to beleue, by some false persuasiō her glas had giuen her of her own incomparable excellēcies, & by the great fauor she knew he bare to her brother Ismenus, which (like a self-flattering womā) she cōceiued was done for her sake. But when she had atchieued her attempt, and that she found the Princesses were so far frō their intended death, as that the one of them was like to be her souereigne, & that neither her seruice had woon of Amphialus much more then ordinary fauor, nor her ouer-large offring herselfe to a mind otherwise owed, had obteined a loked-for acceptatiō; disdain to be disdained spite of a frustrat hope, & perchance vnquenched lust-growne rage, made her vnquiet thoughts find no other rest, but malice: which was increased by the death of her brother, whom she iudged neither succoured against Philanax, nor reuenged vpō
Philanax. But all these coles were wel blowne by the cōpany she especially kept with Zelmane, all this time of her imprisonment. For finding her presence vncheerfull to the mourning Philoclea,
and contemned of the hie harted Pamela, she spent her time most with Zelmane. Who though at the first hardly brooking the instrument of their miserie, learning cunning in the schoole of aduersitie, in time framed her self to yeeld her acceptable intertainment. For Zelmane, when she had by that vnexpected mischiefe her bodie imprisoned, her valure ouermastred, her wit beguiled, her desires barred, her loue eclipsed; assured of euill, fearing worse, able to know Philocleas misfortune, and not able to succour her, she was a great while, before the greatnes of her hart could descend to sorow, but rather rose boyling vp in spight and disdain; Reason hardly making Courage beleeue, that it was distressed: but as if the walles would be afraid of her, so would her lookes shoote out threatning vpon them. But the fetters of seruitude (growing heauier with wearing) made her feele her case, and the little preuailing of repining: and then griefe gat a seate in her softned mind, making sweetenesse of passed comforts by due title claime teares of present discomforts: and since her fortune made her able to helpe as litle as any bodie, yet to be able to waile as much as any bodie; solitarie Sorrow, with a continuall circle in herselfe, going out at her owne mouth, to come in againe at her owne eares. Then was the name of Philoclea graued in the glas windowes, and by the foolish idolatrie of affection, no sooner written, then adored; and no sooner adored, then pittied: all the wonted praises (she was wont to giue vnto her) being now but figures of rethorick to amplifie the iniuries of misfortune; against which being alone, she would often make inuectiue declamations, methodized only by raging sorow.
But when Artesia did insinuat herselfe into her acquaintance, she gaue the gouernment of her courage to wit, & was content to familiarize herselfe with her: so much the rather, as that she perceiued in her certaine flawes of il-concealed discontentmēt. Insomuch that whē
Zelmane would sweeten her mouth with the praises of the sisters, especially setting forth their noble gratefulnes, in neuer forgetting welintended seruices, & inuoking the iustice of the gods, not to suffer such treasures to be wrōgfully hidden, & somtimes with a kind vnkindnes, charging Artesia that she had ben abused to abuse so worthy persons: Artesia (though falsly) wold protest, that she had bin beguiled in it, neuer meaning other matter thē recreatiō: & yet withall (by alleaging how vngratefully she was dealt with) it was easie to be seene, it was the vnrewarding, and not the euill employing her seruice, which grieued her. But Zelmane (vsing her own bias to bowle neer the mistres of her own thoughts) was content to
〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉
lende her beleefe, and withall, to magnifie her desert, if willingly she would deliuer, whom vnwillingly she had imprisoned; leauing no argument which might tickle ambition, or flatter reuenge. So that Artesia, (pusht
•
orward by Clinias, & drawne on ward by Zelmane) bound her selfe to that practise; wherin Zelmane (for her part) desired no more, but to haue armour and weapons brought into her chamber, not doubting therwith to perfourme any thing, how impossible soeuer, which longing Loue can perswade, and inuincible Valour dare promise.
But Clinias (whose faith could neuer comprehende the misteries of Courage) perswaded Artesia, while he by corruption had drawne the guard of one gate, to open it (when he would appoint the time) to the enemie: that she should impoyson
Amphialus, which she might the easier do, because she her selfe had vsed to make the broaths, when Amphialus (either wearied or wounded) did vse such diet. And all things alredy were ready to be put in execution, whē they thought best to break the matter with the two excellent sisters, not doubting of their consent in a thing so behoofefull to thēselues: their reasons being, that the Princesses knowing their seruice, might be sure to preserue them from the fury of the entring souldiers: whereof Clinias (euen so) could scarcely be sufficiently certaine: and withall, making them priuie to their action, to binde them afterwardes to a promised gratefulnes towards them. They went therefore at one time, when they knew them to be alone, Clinias to Philoclea, and Artesia to Pamela: and Clinias, with no fewe words, did set forth what an exploite was intended for her seruice. But Philoclea (in whose cleere minde treason could finde no hiding place) told him, that she would be glad, if he could perswade her cosin to deliuer her, and that she would neuer forget his seruice therein: but that she desired him to lay downe any such way of mischiefe, for that (for her part) she would rather yeeld to perpetuall imprisonment, then consent to the destroying her cosin, who (she knewe) loued her, though wronged her. This vnlooked-for answere amazed Clinias, so that he had no other remedie in his minde, but to kneele downe to Philoclea, and beseech her to keepe it secret, considering that the intention was for her seruice: and vowing (since she misliked it) to proceed no further therein. She comforted him with promise of silence, which she perfourmed.
But that little auayled: for Artesia hauing in like sort opened this deuice to Pamela, she (in whose mind Vertue gouerned with the scepter of Knowledge) hating so horrible a wickednes, and streight iudging what was fitte to doo, Wicked woman (said she) whose vnrepenting harte can finde no way to amend treason, but by treason: now the time is come, that thy wretched wiles haue caught thy selfe in thine owne nette: as for me, let the Gods dispose of me as shall please them; but sure it shall be no such way, nor way-leader, by which I will come to libertie. This she spake something with a lowder voice then she was woont to vse, so as Cecropia heard the noise; who was (sooner then Artesia imagined she would) come vp, to bring Pamela to a window, where she might see a notable skirmish happened in the Campe, as she thought, among themselues: and being a cunning fisher in troubled waters, streight found by their voices and gestures, there was some matter of consequence, which she desired Pamela to tell her. Aske of her (said Pamela) and learne to know, that who do falshoode to their superiours, teach falshoode to their inferiours. More she would not say. But Cecropia taking away the each-way guiltie Artesia, with feare of torture, gat of her the whole practise: so as Zelmane was the
more closely imprisoned, and Clinias (with the rest of his corrupted mates, according to their merites) executed: For, as for Artesia, shee was but lockt vp in her chamber, Amphialus not consenting (for the loue hee bare to Ismenus) that further punishment should be laide vpon her.
But the noyse they heard in the campe, was occasiō of the famous Prince Anaxius, nephewe to the Giant Euardes whom Pyrocles slew: A Prince, of body exceedingly strong; in armes so skilfull and fortunate, as no man was thought to excell him; of courage that knew not howe to feare: partes worthie praise, if they had not beene guyded by pride, and followed by vniustice. For by a strange composition of mind, there was no man more tenderly sensible in any thing offered to himselfe, which in the farthest-fette construction, might be wrested to the name of wrong; no man, that in his owne actions could worse distinguish betweene Valour and Violence: So proud, as he could not abstaine from a Thraso-like boasting, and yet (so vnluckie a lodging his vertues had gotten) he would neuer boast more then he would accomplish: falsly accounting an vnflexible anger, a couragious constancie: esteeming feare, and astonishment, righter causes of admiration, then Loue and Honour. This man had foure sundrie times fought with Amphialus, but Mars had bene so vnpartiall an arbiter, that neither side gate aduauntage of the other. But in the end it hapned, that Anaxius found Amphialus (vnknowen) in a great danger, and saued his life: whereupon (louing his owne benefite) began to fauour him, so much the more as, thinking so well of himselfe, he coulde not choose but like him, whom he found a match for himselfe: which at last grewe to as much friendship towardes him, as could by a proud harte conceiued. So as in this trauaile (seeking Pyrocles to be reuenged of his vncles death) hearing of this siege, neuer taking paines to examine the quarrell (like a man whose will was his God, and his hand his lawe taking with him his two brothers (men accounted little inferiour to him selfe in martiall matters) and two hundred chosen horsemen (with whome hee thought him selfe able to conquere the world) yet commaunding the rest of his forces to follow, hee himselfe vpon such an vnexpected suddainnesse entred in vpon the backe of Basilius, that many with great vnkindnesse tooke their death, not knowing why, nor how they were so murdred. There, if euer, did he make knowne the wonderfulnes of his force. But the valiant, and faithfull Philanax, with well gouerned speed made such head against him, as would haue shewed, how soone Courage falles in the ditch which hath not the eie of Wisdome: but that Amphialus at the same time issued out, and winning with an abundaunce of courage one of the sconses, which Basilius had builded, made waie for his friend Anaxius with great losse of both sides, but especially of the Basilians; such notable monuments had those two swords especially lefte of their Maisters redoubted worthynesse.
There with the respect fit to his estate, the honour dewe to his worthinesse, and the kindnesse which accompanies friendship (made fast by enterchaunged benefits) did Amphialus enforce him selfe (as much as in a besieged towne he could) to make Anaxius know, that his succour was not so needefull, as his presence gratefull. For causing the streetes and houses of the towne to witnes his welcome (making both souldiers and Magistrates in their countenaunces to shewe their gladnesse of him) he led him to his mother, whom hee besought to entertaine him with no lesse loue and kindnesse, then as one, who once had saued her sonnes life, and now came to saue both life and honour. Tush (said Anaxius, speaking alowde, looking vpon his
brothers) I am onely sorie there are not halfe a dozen Kinges more about you: that what Anaxius can do, might be the better manifested. His brothers smiled, as though he had ouer-modestly spoken farre vnderneath the pitch of his power. Thē was he disarmed at the earnest request of Amphialus: for Anaxius boiled with desire to issue out vppon the enemies, perswading himself, that the Sun should not be sette, before he had ouerthrown them. And hauing reposed himselfe, Amphialus asked him, whether he would visite the yong Princesses. But Anaxius whispered him in the eare: In trueth (saide hee) deare friende Amphialus, though I am none of those, that loue to speake of themselues, I neuer came yet in companie of Ladies, but that they fell in loue with me. And I that in my hart scorne them as a peeuish paltrie sexe, not woorthie to communicate with my vertues, woulde not doo you the wrong: since (as I heare) you doo debase your selfe so much as to affect them. The curteous Amphialus could haue beene angrie with him for those wordes; but knowing his humour suffered him to daunce to his owne musicke: and gaue himselfe to entertaine both him and his brothers, with as cheerefull a maner, as coulde issue from a mind whom vnluckie loue had filled with melancholie. For to Anaxius he yeelded the directiō of all. He gaue the watchwoorde, and if any grace were graunted, the meanes were to be made to Anaxius. And that night when supper was ended, wherein Amphialus woulde needes himselfe waite vpon him, he caused in Boates vpon the Lake an excellent musicke to be ordered: which, though Anaxius might conceiue was for his honour, yet indeede he was but the Bricke-wall to conuey it to the eares of the beloued Philoclea.
The musicke was of Cornets, whereof one aunswering the other, with a sweete emulation, striuing for the glorie of musicke, and striking vpon the smooth face of the quiet Lake, was then deliuered vp to the castle walles, which with a proude re
•
erberation, spreading it into the aire; it seemed before the harmonie came to the eare, that it had enriched it selfe in trauaile, the nature of those places adding melodie to that melodious instrument. And when a while that instrument had made a braue proclamation to all vnpossessed mindes of attention, an excellent consort streight followed of fiue Violles, and as many voyces; which all being but Oratours of their maisters passions, bestowed this song vppon her, that thought vppon another matter.
THe Fire to see my wrongs for anger burneth:
The Aire in raine for my affliction weepeth:
The Sea to ebbe for griefe his flowing turneth:
The Earth with pittie dul his center keepeth
Fame is with wonder blazed:
Time runnes away for sorrow:
Place standeth still amazed,
To see my night of euils, which hath no morrowe.
Alas all onely she no pittie taketh
To know my miseries, but chaste and cruell
My fall her glory maketh;
Yet still her eyes giue to my flames their fuell.
Fire, burne me quite till sense of burning leaue me:
Aire, let me drawe thy breath no more in anguish:
Sea, drown'd in thee of tedious life bereaue me:
Earth, take this earth wherein my spirits languish.
Fame, say I was not borne:
Time, hast my dying hower:
Place, see my graue vptorne:
Fire, aire, sea, earth, fame, time, place show your power.
Alas from all their helpes I am exiled:
For hers am I, and Death feares her displeasure.
Fie Death thou art beguiled:
Though I be hers, she makes of me no treasure.
But Anaxius (seeming a weary before it was ended) tolde Amphialus, that for his part he liked no musick, but the neighing of horses, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of yeelding persons: and therefore desired, that the next morning they should issue vpō the same place, wher they had ētred that day, not doubting to make them quickely a wearie of being the besiegers of Anaxius. Amphialus, who had no whit lesse courage, though nothing blowne vp with pride, willingly condiscended and so the next morning (giuing false alarum to the other side of the campe) Amphialus at Anaxius earnest request, staying within the towne to see it garded, Anaxius and his brethren, Lycurgus, and Zoilus, sallied out with the best chosen men. But Basilius (hauing bene the last day some what vnprouided) now had better fortified the ouerthrowne sconse; and so well had prepared euery thing for defence, that it was impossible for any valour from within, to preuaile. Yet thinges were perfourmed by Anaxius beyonde the credite of the credulous. For thrife (valiantly followed by his brothers) did he set vp his banner vpon the rampire of the enemie: though thrise againe by the multitude, & aduauntage of the place, but especially by the comming of three valiant Knights, he were driuen downe againe. Numbers there were that day, whose deathes and ouerthrowes were excused by the well knowen sworde of Anaxius: but the rest, by the length of time & iniurie of Historians, haue bene wrapped vp in darke forgetfulnesse: onely Tressennius is spoken of, because when all abandoned the place, he onely made head to Anaxius; till hauing lost one of his legs, yet not lost the harte of fighting, Lycurgus (second brother to Anaxius) cruellie murthered him; Anaxius him selfe disdayning any further to deale with him.
But so farre had Anaxius at the third time preuayled, that now the Basilians began to let their courage descende to their feete, Basilius, & Philanax in vaine striuing with reuerence of authoritie to bridle the flight of astonishment, and to teach Feare discretion: so that Amphialus, seeing Victorie shewe such a flattering countenaunce to him, came out with all his force; hoping that day to end the siege.
But that fancie altered quicklie by the suddaine comming to the other side of three Knights, whereof the one was in white armour, the other in greene, and the third by his blacke armour; and deuice streight knowne to be the notable Knight, who the first day had giuen Fortune so short a stoppe with his notable deedes and fighting hand to hand the deemed inuincible Amphialus. Fonthe very cowardes no sooner saw him, but as borrowing some of his spirit, they went like yong Eagles to the pray, vnder the wing of their damme. For the three aduenturers, not content
〈1 page missing〉
〈1 page missing〉
on. For her exceeding faire eyes, hauing with continual weeping gotten a little rednesse about them; her roundy sweetly swelling lippes a little trembling, as though they kissed their neighbour death; in her cheekes the whitenesse striuing by little & little to get vpō the rosines of thē; her necke, a necke indeed of Alablaster, displaying the wound, which with most daintie blood laboured to drowne his owne beauties; so as here was a riuer of purest redde, there an Iland of perfittest white, each giuing lustre to the other; with the sweete countenance (God-knowes) full of an vnafected languishing: though these thinges to a grosly conceauing sense might seeme disgraces; yet
•
indeed were they but apparaling beautie in a new fashion, which all looked-vpon thorough the spectacles of pittie, did euen encrease the lynes of her naturall fairenes, so as Amphialus was astonished with griefe, compassion, and shame, detesting his fortune, that made him vnfortunate in victory.
Therefore, putting off his headpeece and gauntlet; kneeling downe vnto her, and with teares testifying his sorow, he offred his (by himselfe accursed) handes to helpe her: protesting his life and power to be readie to doo her honour. But Parthenia
(who had inward messingers of the desired deathes approch) looking vpon him and streight turning away her feeble sight, as from a delightlesse obiect, drawing out her words, which her breath (loath to departe from so sweet a bodie) did faintly deliuer, Sir (said she) I pray you (if prayers haue place in enemies) to let my maides take my body vntouched by you: the onely honour I now desire by your meanes, is, that I haue no honour of you. Argalus made no such bargaine with you, that the handes which killed him, shoulde helpe me. I haue of them (and I doo not onely pardon you, but thanke you for it) the seruice which I desired. There rests nothing now, but that I go liue with him, since whose death I haue done nothing but die. Then pawsing, and a little fainting, and againe comming to herselfe, O sweete life, wel come (saide she) nowe feele I the bandes vntied of the cruell death, which so long hath helde me. And O life, O death, aunswere for mee, that my thoughts haue not so much as in a dreame tasted any comfort; since they were depriued of Argalus. I come, my Argalus, I come: And, O God hide my faultes in thy mercies, and graunt (as I feele thou doost graunt) that in thy eternall loue, we may loue eche other eternally. And this O Lorde: But there Atropos cut off her sentence: for with that, casting vp both eyes and hands to the skies, the noble soule departed (one might well assure himselfe) to heauen, which left the bodie in so heauenly a demeanure.
But Amphialus (with a hart oppressed with griefe, because of her request) withdrewe himselfe, but the Iudges, as full of pitie, had bene al this while disarming her, and her gentelwomen with lamentable cries, laboring to stanch the remediles wounds: and a while she was dead before they perceiued it; death being able to diuide the soule, but not the beauty from that body. But when the infallible tokens of death assured them of their losse, one of the women would haue killed her selfe, but that the squire of Amphialus perceauing it, by force held her. Others that had as strong passion, though weaker resolution, fell to cast dust vppon their heads, to teare their garments: al falling vpon the earth & crying vpon their sweet mistres; as if their cries could perswade the soule to leaue the celestiall happines, to come againe into the elements of sorrow: one time calling to remembrance her vertue, chastnes, sweetnes, goodnes to them: another time accursing themselues, that they had obeyed her,
they hauing bene deceaued by her words, who as
•
ured thē, that it was reuealed vnto her, that she should haue her harts desire in the battaile against Amphialus, which they wrongly vnderstood. Then kissing her cold hands and feete, wearie of the world, since she was gone, who was their world. The very heauens seemed, with a cloudie countenance, to loure at the losse, and Fame it selfe (though by nature glad to tell such rare accidents, yet) could not choose but deliuer it in lamentable accents, and in such sort went it quickly all ouer the Campe: and, as if the aire had bene infected with sorow, no hart was so hard, but was subiect to that contagion; the rarenes of the accidēt, matching together (the rarely matched together) pittie with admiration, Basilius himselfe came foorth, and brought the faire Gynecia with him, who was come into the campe vnder colour of visiting her husband, and hearing of her daughters: but indeed Zelmane was the Sainct, to which her pilgrimage was entended: cursing, enuying, blessing, and in her hart kissing the walles which imprisoned her. But both they with Philanax, and the rest of the principall Nobilitie, went out, to make Honour triumph ouer Death, conueying that excellent body (whereto Basilius himselfe would needes lende his shoulder) to a Church a mile from the Campe, where the valiant Argalus lay intombed; recommending to that sepulchre, the blessed reliques of faithfull and vertuous Loue: giuing order for the making of marble images, to represent them, and each way enriching the tombe. Vpon which, Basilius himselfe caused this Epitaph to be written.
The Epitaph.
HIs being was in her alone:
And he not being, she was none.
They ioi'd one ioy, one griefe they grieu'd,
One loue they lou'd, one life they liu'd.
The hand was one, one was the sword
That did his death, hir death afford.
As all the rest, so now the stone
That tombes the two, is iustly one.
ARGALVS & PARTHENIA.
Then with eyes full of teares, and mouthes full of her prayses, returned they to the campe, with more and more hate against Amphialus: who (poore Gentleman) had therefore greater portion of woe, then any of them. For that courteous hearte, which would haue grieued but to haue heard the like aduenture, was rent with remembring himselfe to be the author: so that his wisdome could not so far temper his passion, but that he tooke his sword, counted the best in the world (which with much bloud he had once conquered of a mighty Giant) and brake it into many
peeces (which afterwards he had good cause to repent) saying, that neither it was worthy to serue the noble exercise of chiualrie, nor any other worthy to feele that sword, which had stroken so excellēt a Lady: and withall, banishing all cheerfulnes of his countenance, he returned home. Where he gate him to his bed, not so much to rest his restles mind, as to auoid all company, the sight wherof was tedious vnto him. And then melancholie (only rich in vnfortunate remembrances) brought before him all the mishaps, with which his life had wrestled: taking this, not only as a confirming of the former, but a presage of following miserie; and to his harte (alredy ouercome by sorrowfulnes) euen trifling misfortunes came, to fill vp the rolle of a grieued memorie, labouring only his wits to pearce farther &
•
arther into his owne wretchednes. So as all that night (in despite of darknes) he held his eyes open; and the morning when the light began to restore to each body his colour, then with curtaines bard he himselfe frō the enioying of it: neither willing to feele the comfort of the day, nor the ease of the night: vntil his mother (who neuer knew what loue meant, but only to himward) came to his bed side, and beginning with louing earnestnes to lay a kind chiding vpō him, because he would suffer the weaknes of sorow, to conquere the strength of his vertues; he did with a broken peecemeale speach (as if the tēpest of passion vnorderly blewe out his words) remember the mishaps of his youth, the euils he had ben cause of, his rebelling with Shame, & that shame increased with shamefull accidents, the deaths of Philoxenus & Parthenia,
wherein he found himselfe hated of the euer-ruling powers, but especially (and so especially, as the rest seemed nothing when he came to that) his fatall loue to Philoclea: to whom he had so gouerned himselfe, as one that could neither conquer, nor yeeld; being of the one side a slaue, & of the other a iaylor: and with all, almost vpbrayding vnto his mother the little successe of her large hoping promises, he in effect finding Philoclea nothing mollified, and now himselfe so cast downe, as hee thought him vnworthy of better. But his mother (as she had plentifull cause) making him see, that of his other griefes there was little or no fault in himself, and therfore there ought to be little or no griefe in him; when she came to the head of the sore, indeed seeing that she could no lōger patch vp her former promises (he taking a desperat deafnes to all delaying hopes) she confest plainly, that she could preuaile nothing: but the fault was his owne, who had marred the yong Girle by seeking to haue that by praier, which he should haue taken by authoritie. That as it were an absurd cunning to make hie ladders to go in a plaine way; so was it an vntimely and foolish flattery, there to beseech, where one might commaund, puffing them vp by being besought, with such a selfe-pride of superioritie, that it was not (forsooth) to be held out, but by a denial. O God (said Amphialus) how wel I thought my fortune would bring forth this end of your labors? assure yourself, mother, I wil sooner pull out these eies, then they shall looke vpō the heauenly Philoclea, but as vpō a heauen, whence they haue their light, & to which they are subiect, if they wil power downe any influēces of comfort, O happy I: but if by the sacrifice of a faithful hart, they wil not be called vnto me, let me languish, & wither with languishing, and grieue with withering, but neuer so much as repine with neuer so much grieuing. Mother, ô Mother, lust may wel be a tyrant, but true loue where it is indeed, it is a seruant. Accursed more then I am, may I be, if euer I did approch her, but that I friezed asmuch in a fearefull reuerēce, as I burned in a vehemēt desire. Did euer mās eye looke thorough loue vpō the maiesty of vertue, shining through beauty, but that he becam (as it wel becam him) a captiue, & is it the stile of a captiue to write, Our will and pleasure?
Tush, tush sonne (said Cecropia) if you say you loue, but withall you feare; you feare lest you should offend; offend? and how know you, that you should offend? because she doth denie: denie? Now by my truth, if your sadnes would let me laugh, I could laugh hartily, to see that yet you are ignorant, that No, is no negatiue in a womans mouth. My sonne, beleeue me, a woman, speaking of women: a louers" modesty among vs is much more praised, then liked: or if we like it, so well we like it, that for marring of his modestie, he shall neuer proceed further. Each vertue hath his time: if you command your souldier to march formost, and he for curtesie put others before him, would you praise his modesty? loue is your Generall: he bids you dare: and will Amphialus be a dastard? Let examples serue: doo you thinke Theseus should euer haue gotten Antiope with sighing, and crossing his armes? he rauished her, and rauished her that was an Amazon, and therfore had gotten a habite of stoutnes aboue the nature of a woman; but hauing rauished her, he got a child of her. And I say no more, but that (they say) is not gotten without consent of both sides. Iole had her owne father killed by Hercules, and her selfe rauished, by force rauished, and yet ere long this rauished, and vnfathered Lady could sportfully put on the Lions skin vpon her owne faire shoulders, and play with the clubbe with her owne delicate hands: so easily had she pardoned the rauisher, that she could not but delight in those weapons of rauishing. But aboue all, marke Helen daughter to Iupiter, who could neuer brooke her manerly-wooing Menclaus, but disdained his humblenes, and lothed his softnes. But so well she could like the force of enforcing Paris, that for him she could abide what might be abidden. But what? Menelaus takes hart, he recouers her by force, by force carries her home, by force inioies her; and she, who could neuer like him for seruiceablenesse, euer aft
•
r loued him for violence. For what can be more agreable, then vpon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one instant to ioyne a deare delight with a iust excuse? or rather the true cause is (pardon me ô woman-kinde for reuealing to mine owne sonne the truth of this mystery) we thinke there wants fire, where we finde no sparkles at lest of furie. Truly I haue knowen a great Lady, long sought by most great, most wise, most beautifull, most valiant persons; neuer wonne, because they did ouer-superstitiously sollicite her: the same Ladie brought vnder by an other, inferiour to all them in all those qualities, onely because he could vse that imperious maisterfulnesse, which nature giues to men aboue women. For indeede (sonne, I confesse vnto you) in our very creation we are seruants: and who prayseth his seruaunts shall neuer be well obeyed: but as a ready horse streight yeeldes, when he findes one that will haue him yeelde, the same fals to boundes when he feeles a fearefull horseman. Awake thy spirits (good Amphialus) and assure thy selfe, that though she refuseth, she refuseth but to endeere the obtaining. If she weepe, and chide, and protest, before it be gotten, she can but weepe, and chide, and protest, when it is gotten. Thinke, she would not striue, but that she meanes to trie thy force: and my Amphialus, knowe thy selfe a man, and shew thy selfe a man: and (beleeue me vpon my word) a woman is a woman.
Amphialus was about to answere her, when a Gentleman of his made him vnderstand, that there was a messenger come, who had brought a letter vnto him from out of the campe: whom he presently calling for, tooke, opened, and read the letter, importing this.
TO thee Amphialus of Arcadia, the forsaken Knight wisheth health, and courage, that by my hand thou maiest receyue punishment for thy treason, according to thine owne offer, which wickedly occasioned, thou hast proudly begun, and accursedly mainteyned. I will presently (if thy minde faint thee not for his owne guiltinesse) meete thee in thy Iland, in such order, as hath by the former beene vsed: or if thou likest not the time, place, or weapon, I am ready to take thine owne reasonable choise in any of them; so as thou doo perfourme the substaunce. Make me such answere as may shewe that thou hast some taste of honour: and so I leaue thee, to liue till I meete thee.
Amphialus read it, and with a deepe sigh (according to the humour of inward affliction) seemed euen to condemne him selfe, as though indeed his reproches were true. But howsoeuer the dulnes of Melancholy would haue languishingly yeelded thereunto, his Courage (vnused to such iniuries) desired helpe of Anger to make him this answere.
FOrsaken Knight, though your namelesse challenge might carry in it selfe excuse for a man of my birth and estate, yet herein set your harte at rest, you shall not be forsaken. I will without stay answere you in the woonted manner, and come both armed in your foolish threatnings, and yet the more fearelesse, expecting weake blowes, where I finde so s
•
rong words. You shall not therefore long attende me in the Iland, before proofe teach you, that of my life you haue made your selfe too large a promise. In the meane time, Farewell.
This being written, and deliuered, the messenger tolde him, that his Lord would (if he liked the same) bring two Knights with him to be his Patrons. Which Amphialus accepted, and withall shaking off (with resolution) his mothers importunate disswasions, he furnished him selfe for the fight: but not in his wonted furniture. For now (as if he would turne his inside outward) he would needes appeare all in blacke; his decking both for him selfe, and horse, being cut out into the fashion of very ragges: yet all so daintely ioyned together with pretious stones, as it was a braue raggednesse, and a riche pouertie: and so cunningly had a workeman followed his humour in his armour, that he had giuen it a rustie shewe, and yet so, as any man might perceiue was by arte, and not negligence; carying at one instant a disgraced handsomnesse, and a new oldnes. In his shield he bare for his deuise, a Night, by an excellent painter excellently painted, with a Sunne with a shadow, and vpon the shadow with a speech signifying, that it onely was barrd from inioying that, whereof it had his life: or, From whose I am, bannished. In his creste he caried Philocleas kniues, the onely token of her forced fauour.
So past he ouer into the Iland, taking with him the two brothers of Anaxius; where he founde the forsaken Knight, attired in his owne liuerie, as blacke, as sorrowe it selfe could see it selfe in the blackest glasse: his ornaments of the same hew, but formed into the figure of Rauens, which seemed to gape for carrion: onely his raynes were snakes, which finely wrapping themselues one within the other, their heads came together to the cheekes and bosses of the bit, where they might seeme to bite at the horse, and the horse (as he champte the bit) to bite at them; and that the white foame was ingendred by the poysonous furie of the combatt. His Impresa was a Catoblepta which so long lies dead, as the Moone (whereto it hath so naturall a sympathie) wants her light. The worde signified that
The Moone wanted not the light, but the poore beast wanted the Moones light. He had in his headpiece, a whippe, to witnesse a selfe-punishing repentaunce. Their very horses were cole-blacke too, not hauing so much as one starre to giue light to their night of blackenesse: so as one would haue thought they had bene the two sonnes of Sorrow, and were come thether to fight for their birth-right in that sorie inheritance.
Which aliance of passions so moued Amphialus (alredy tender-minded by the afflictions of Loue) that without staffe or sword drawne, he trotted fairely to the forsaken Knight, willing to haue put off this combat, to which his melancholy hart did (more then euer in like occasion) misgiue him: and therefore saluting him, Good Knight (said he) because we are men, and should know reason why we doo things; tell me the cause, that makes you thus eager to fight with me. Because I affirme (answered the forsaken Knight) that thou dost most rebellious iniurie to those Ladies, to whome all men owe seruice. You shall not fight with me (saide
Amphialus) vpon that quarrell: for I confesse the same too: but it proceeds from their owne beauty, to inforce Loue to offer this force. I maintaine then (said the forsaken Knight) that thou art not worthy so to loue. And that confesse I too (said Amphialus) since the world is not so richly blessed, as to bring forth any thing worthie thereof. But no more vnworthy then any other, since in none can be a more worthy loue. Yes, more vnworthy then my selfe (said the forsaken Knight) for though I deserue contempt, thou deseruest both contempt, and hatred.
But Amphialus by that thinking (though wrongly, each indeede mistaking other) that he was his riuall, forgat all minde of reconciliation, and hauing all his thoughts bound vp in choler, neuer staying either iudge, trumpet, or his owne launce, drew out his sword, and saying, Thou lyest false villaine, vnto him; his words & blowes came so quick together, as the one seemed a lightning of the others thunder. But he found no barren ground of such seede: for it yeelded him his owne with such encrease, that though Reason and Amazement go rarely togither, yet the most reasonable eies that saw it, found reason to be amazed at the fury of their combat. Neuer game of death better plaid; neuer fury set it selfe forth in greater brauerie. The curteous Vulcan, when he wrought at his more curteous wiues request, AEnaeas an armour, made not his hammer beget a greater sounde, then the swords of those noble Knights did, they needed no fire to their forge, for they made the fire to shine at the meeting of their swords, & armours, ech side fetching still new spirit from the castle window, and carefull of keeping their sight that way as a matter of greater consideration in their combat, then either the aduantage of Sun or winde: which Sunne & wind (if the astonished eies of the beholders were not by the astonishmēt deceiued) did both stand still to be beholders of this rare match. For neither could their amazed eies discerne motion in the Sunne, and no breath of winde stirred, as if either for feare it would not come among such blows, or with delight had his eies so busie, as it had forgot to open his mouth. This fight being the more cruell, since both Loue and Hatred conspired to sharpen their humours, that hard it was to say, whether Loue with one trumpet, or Hatred with another, gaue the lowder ala
•
um to their courages. Spite, rage, disdaine, shame, reuenge, came waighting vpon Hatred: of the other side came with loue-longing Desire, both inuincible Hope, and fearelesse Despaire, with riuallike Iealousie, which (although brought vp within doores in the schoole of Cupid) woulde shewe them-selues no lesse
forward, then the other dustie band of Mars, to make themselues notable in the notablenes of this combat. Of eyther side Confidence, vnacquainted with Losse, but assured trust to ouercome, and good experience how to ouercome: now seconding their terrible blowes with cunning labouring the horses, to winne ground of the enimie; now vnlooked-for parting one from the other, to win aduantage by an aduantageous retourne. But force against force, skill against skill, so enterchangeably encountred, that it was not easie to determine, whether enterprising, or preuenting came former: both, sometimes at one instant, doing and suffring wrong, and choller no lesse rising of the doing, then of the suffring. But as the fire, the more fuell is put to it, the more hungrie still it is to deuoure more: so the more they strake, the more vnsatisfied they were with striking. Their verie armour by piecemeale fell away from them: and yet their flesh abode the wounds constantly, as though it were lesse sensible of smart, then the senselesse armour: their blood in most places stayning their blacke couler, as if it would giue a more liuely coulour of mourning, then blacke can doo. And so a long space they fought, while neither vertue, nor fortune seemed partiall of either side: which so tormented the vnquiet hart of Amphialus, that he resolued to see a quicke ende: and therefore with the violence of courage, adding strength to his blow, he strake in such wise vpon the side of the others head, that his remembrance left that battered lodging: so as he was quite
•
rom himselfe, casting his armes abroade, and redie to fall downe; his sword likewise went out of his hand; but that being fast by a chaine to his arme, he could not loose. And Amphialus vsed the fauour of occasion, redoubling his blowes: but the horse (weary to be beaten, as well as the master) carried his master away, til he came vnto himself: But then who could haue seene him, might well haue discerned shame in his cheekes, and reuenge in his eyes: so as setting his teeth togither with rage, he came running vpon Amphialus, reaching out his arme, which had gathered vp the sword, meaning with that blow to haue cleaued Amphialus in two. But Amphialus seeing the blow comming, shunned it with nimble turning his horse aside; wherwith the forsaken Knight ouer-strake himselfe so, as almost he came downe with his owne strength. But the more hungrie of his purpose, the more he was bard the food of it: disdaining the resistance, both of force, and fortune, he returned vpon the spurre againe, and ranne with such violence vpon Amphialus, that his horse with the force of the shocke rose vp before, almost ouerturned: which Amphialus perceauing, with rayne and spurre put forth his horse; and withall gaue a mightie blow in the descent of his horse, vpon the shoulder of the forsaken Knight; from whence sliding, it fell vpon the necke of his horse, so as horse and man fell to the ground: but he was scarce downe before he was vp on his feete againe, with braue gesture shewing rising of corage, in the falling of fortune. But the curteous Amphialus excused himselfe, for hauing (against his will) kild his horse. Excuse thy selfe for viler faults (answered the forsaken Knight) and vse this poore aduantage the best thou canst; for thou shalt quickly finde thou hast neede of more. Thy folly (said Amphialus) shall not make me forget my selfe: and therewith (trotting a little aside) alighted from his horse, because he would not haue fortune come to claime any part of the victory. Which curteous act would haue mollified the noble harte of the forsaken Knight, if any other had done it, besides the Iaylor of his mistres: but that was a sufficient defeazaunce for the firmest bond of good nature; and therefore he was no sooner alighted, but that he
ranne vnto him, re-entring into as cruell a fight, as eye did euer see, or thought could reasonably imagine; farre beyond the reach of weak words to bee able to expresse it. For what they had done on horsebacke, was but as a morsell to keep their stomakes in appetite, in comparison of that, which now (being themselues) they did. Nor euer glutton by the change of daintie diet could be brought to fresh feeding (when he might haue bene satisfied before) with more earnestnes, then those (by the change of their maner of fight) fell cleane to a new fight, though any else would haue thought they had had their fil alredy. Amphialus being the taller mā, for the most part stood with his right legge before; his shield at the vtterm ost length of his arme; his sworde hie, but with the point toward his enemy. But when he strake, which came so thick, as if euery blow would striue to be foremost, his arme seemed still a postillion of death. The forsaken Knight shewed with like skill, vnlike gesture, keeping himselfe in continuall motion, proportioning the distance betweene them to any thing that Amphialus attempted: his eye guided his foote, and his foote conueighed his hand; and since nature had made him something the lower of the two, he made art follow, and not striue with nature: shunning rather then warding his blowes; like a cūning mastiffe, who knowes the sharpnes of the horne & strength of the Bull; fights low to get his proper aduantage; answering mightines with nimblenes, and yet at times imploying his wonderfull force, wherein he was second to none. In summe, the blowes were stronge, the thrusts thicke, and the auoydinges cunning. But the forsaken Knight (that thought it a degree of being conquered to belong in conquering) strake him so mightie a blowe, that he made Amphialus put knee to the grounde, without any humblenes. But when hee felt himselfe striken downe, and saw himselfe striken downe by his riuall, then shame seemed one arme, and disdaine another; fury in his eyes, and reuenge in his harte; skill and force gaue place, and they tooke the place of skill and force: with so vnweariable a manner, that the forsaken Knight also was driuen to leaue the sterne of cunning, & giue himselfe wholly to be guided by the storme of fury: there being in both (because hate would not suffer admiration) extreame disdaine to finde themselues so matched.
What (said Amphialus to himselfe) am I Amphialus, before whom so many monsters and Gyantes haue falne dead, when I onely sought causelesse aduentures? and can one Knight now withstand me in the presence of Philoclea, and fighting for Philoclea? or since I lost my liberty, haue I lost my courag? haue I gottē the hart of a slaue, as wel as the fortūe? If an armie were against me in the sight of Philoclea, could it resist me? O beast, on man resists thee: thy riual resists thee or am I indeed Amphialus? haue not passions kild him, and wretched I (I know not how) succeeded into his place? Of the other side the forsaken Knight with no lesse spite, fell out with himselfe; Hast thou broken (saide hee to himselfe) the commandement of thy onely Princesse to come now into her presence, and in her presence to proue thy selfe a coward? Doth
Asia and AEgypt set vp Trophes vnto thee, to be matched here by a traytor? O noble Barsanes, how shamed will thy soule be, that he that slew thee, should be resisted by this one man? O incomparable Pyrocles, more grieued wilt thou be with thy friends shame, then with thine own imprisonment, when thou shalt know how little I haue bene able to doo for the deliuerie of thee, and those heauenly Princesses. Am I worthie to be friend to the most valourous Prince that euer was entituled valorous, and shew my selfe so weake a wretch? No, shamed Musidorus, worthie for nothing, but to keepe sheepe, get thee a sheephooke againe, since thou canst vse a sworde no better.
So was the forsaken Knight (layed vpon clokes) carried home to the campe. But his two friends knowing his earnest desire not to be knowen, couering him from any bodies eyes, conueyed him to their owne tente: Basilius himselfe conquering his earnest desire to see him, with feare to displease him, who had fought so notably in his quarrell. But Fame set the honour vpon his backe, which he would not suffer to shine in his face: no mans mouth being barrein of prayses to the noble Knight, that had bettered the most esteemed Knight in the worlde: euery bodie praying for his life, and thinking that therein they prayed for themselues. But hee himselfe, when by the diligent care of friends, and well applied cunning of surgeons, he came to renewe againe the league betweene his minde and body; then fell he to a freshe warre with his owne thoughts, wrongfully condemning his manhood, laying cowardise to himselfe, whome the impudentest backbiter would not so haue wronged. For his courage (vsed to vse victory as an inheritaunce) coulde brooke no resistance at any time: but now that hee had promised him selfe not onely the conquest of him, but the scaling of the walles, and deliuery of Pamela, though he had done beyond all others expectation, yet so short was he of his owne; that hee hated to looke vpon the Sunne, that had seene him doo so weakely: and so much abhorred all visitation or honour, whereof he thought him selfe vnworthy, that hee besought his two noble friends to carrie him away to a castle not far of, where he might cure his woundes, and neuer bee knowne till he made successe excuse this (as he thought) want in him. They louingly obeyed him, leauing Basilius and all the campe very sorrie for the parting of these three vnknowne Knights, in whose prowesse they had reposed greatest trust of victory.
But they being gone, Basilius and Philanax gaue good order to the strengthning of the siege, fortifying themselues, so as they feared no more any such suddaine onset, as that of Anaxius. And they within (by reason of Anaxius hurt, but especially of Amphialus-is) gaue thēselues only to diligent watch & ward, making no sallies out, but committing the principall trust to Zoilus and Lycurgus. For Anaxius was yet forced to keepe his chamber. And as for Amphialus, his body had such wounds, and he gaue such wounds to his minde; as easily it coulde not bee determined, whether death or he made the greater haste one to the other: for when the diligent care of cū
ning surgeons had brought life to the possession of his owne right, Sorrowe and Shame (like two corrupted seruaunts) came waiting of it, perswading nothing but the giuing ouer of itselfe to destruction. They laide before his eyes his present case, painting euery piece of it in moste ougly colours: they shewed him his loue wrapped in dispaire, his fame blotted by ouerthrow; so that if before he languished, because he could not obtaine his desiring, hee now lamented because he durst not desire the obtaining. Recreant Amphialus, (would hee say to him selfe) how darest thou intitle thy selfe the louer of Philoclea, that hast neither shewed thy selfe a faithfull coward, nor a valiant rebell, but both rebellious and cowardly, which no lawe can quite, nor grace haue pittie of? Alas life, what little pleasure thou doost me, to giue me nothing but sense of reproach, and exercise of ruine? I would sweete Philoclea, I had died, before thy eyes had seene my weakenes: & then perchaunce with some sigh thou wouldest haue confessed, thou hadst lost a worthy seruant. But nowe, caitife that I am, what euer I haue donne, serues but to builde vp my riuals glory. To these speeches he would couple such gestures of vexation, and
would fortifie the gestures with such effects of furie, as sometimes offring to teare vp his wounds, sometimes to refuse the sustenance of meat, and counsell of phisitions, that his perplexed mother was driuen to make him by force to be tended, with extreame corsey to her selfe, and annoiance to him: till in the ende he was contented to promise her, he would attempt no violence vpon himselfe, vpon condition he might be troubled by no body, but onely his Phisitions: his melancholy detesting all company, so as not the very surgeons nor seruants durst speake vnto him in doing him seruice: only he had praied his mother, as she tendered his life, she would procure him grace; and that without that, she would neuer come at him more.
His mother, who had confined all her loue only vnto him, set only such about him, as were absolutely at her commandement, whome she forbad to let him knowe any thing that passed in the castle, till his woundes were cured, but as she from time to time should instruct them: she (for her selfe) being resolued, nowe she had the gouernment of all things in her owne handes, to satisfie her sonnes loue, by their yeelding, or satisfie her owne reuenge in their punishment. Yet first, because she would be the freer from outward force, she sent a messenger to the campe, to denounce vnto Basilius, that if he did not presently raise his siege, she would cause the heads of the three Ladies, prisoners, to be cut off before his eyes. And to make him the more feare a present performance, she caused his two daughters and Zelmane to be led vnto the walls, where she had made a scaffold, easie to be seene by Basilius: and there caused them to be kept, as ready for the slaughter, till answere came from Basilius. A sight full of pittie it was, to see those three (all excelling in all those excellencies, wherewith Nature can beautifie any body: Pamela giuing sweetnes to maiesty, Philoclea enriching noblenes with humblenes, Zelmane setting in womanly beautie manlike valour) to be thus subiected to the basest iniury of vniust Fortune. One might see in Pamela a willingnesse to dye, rather then to haue life at others discretion, though sometimes a princely disdaine would sparkle out of her Princely eyes, that it should be in others power to force her to dye. In Philoclea a pretie feare came vp, to endamaske her rosie cheekes: but it was such a feare, as rather seemed a kindly childe to her innate humblenes, then any other dismayednes: or if she were dismayed, it was more for Zelmane, then for her selfe; or if more for her selfe, it was because Zelmane should loose her. As for Zelmane, as she went with her hands bound (for they durst not aduenture on her well knowne valour, especially among a people which perchance might be moued by such a spectacle to some reuolte) she was the true image of ouermaistred courage, and of spite, that sees no remedie. For her breast swelled withall, the bloud burst out at her nose, and she looked paler then accustomed, with her eies cast on the ground, with such a grace, as if she were fallen out with the heauens, for suffering such an iniury. The lookers on were so moued withall, as they misliked what themselues did, and yet still did what themselues misliked. For some, glad to rid themselues of the dangerous annoyance of this siege, some willing to shorten the way to Amphialus-his succession (whereon they were dependents) some, and the greatest some, doing because others did, and suffring because none durst begin to hinder, did in this sort set their hands to this (in their owne conscience) wicked enterprise.
But when this message was brought to Basilius, and that this pittifull preparation
was a sufficient letter of credit for him to beleeue it, hee called vnto him his chiefe councelors: among which, those he chiefly trusted were Philanax & Kalander (lately come to the campe at Basilius cōmandement, and in him selfe wery of his solitary life, wanting his sons presence, & neuer hauing heard from his beloued guestes since they parted from him). Now in this doubt what he should do, he willed Kalander to giue him his aduise: who spake much to this purpose. You commaund me Sir (said he) to speake, rather because you will keepe your wonted graue, and noble manner, to do nothing of importance without coūcell, then that in this cause (which indeed hath but one way) your mind needs to haue any councell: so as my speech shall rather be to confirme what you haue alredy determined then to argue against any possibillitie of other determination. For what sophistical scholler can find any question in this, whether you will haue your incomparable daughters liue, or dye? whether since you be here to cause their deliuerance, you wil make your being here the cause of their destruction? for nothing can bee more vnsensible, then to thinke what one doth, and to forget the end why it is done. Do therfore as I am sure you meane to do, remoue the siege, and after seeke by practise, or other gentle meanes, to recouer that which by force you cannot: and therof is indeed (when it please you) more counsel to be taken. Once, in extremities the winning of time is the purchase of life, & worse by no meanes then their deaths can befal vnto you. A man might vse more words, if it were to any purpose to guild gold, or that I had any cause to doubt of your mind: But you are wise, and are a father. He said no more, for he durst not attempt to perswade the marrying of his daughter to Amphialus, but left that to bring in at another consultation. But Basilius made signe to Philanax, who standing a while in a maze as inwardly perplexed, at last thus deliuered his opinion.
If euer I could wish my faith vntried, & my counsell vntrusted, it should be at this time, whē in truth I must confesse I would be cōtent to purchase silence with discredit. But since you command, I obey: onely let me say thus much, that I obey not to these excellent Ladies father, but to my Prince: & a Prince it is to whō I giue coūsel. Therefore as to a Prince I say, that the graue & (I well know) true-minded counsell of my Lord Kalander had come in good time when you first tooke armes, before all your subiects gate notice of your intention, before so much blood was spent, and before they were driuen to seeke this shift for their last remedy. But if nowe, this force you away, why did you take armes? since you might be sure when euer they were in extremitie they would haue recourse to this threatning? and for a wise man to take in hand that which his enimy may with a word ouerthrow, hath in my conceit great incongruity, and as great not to forethinke what his enemy in reason will doo. But they threaten they wil kil your daughters. What if they promised you if you remoued your siege, they would honorably send home your daughters? would you bee angled by their promises? truly no more ought you be terrified by their threatnings. For yet of the two, promise binds faith more thē threatning. But indeed a Prince of iudgement ought not to consider what his enimies promise, or threaten, but what the promisers and threatners in reason wil do: and the neerest coniecture thereunto, is what is best for their owne behoofe to do. They threaten if you remoue not, they wil kil your daughters, and if you doo remoue, what surety haue you, but that they will kil them, since if the purpose be to cut off all impediments of Amphialus-his ambition, the same cause will continue when you are away; and so much the more encoraged, as the reuenging power is absent, and they haue the more oportunitie to
draw their factious friends about them: but if it be for their security onely, the same cause will bring forth the same effect: and for their security they will preserue them. But it may be said, no man knows what desperate folks wil do: it is true, and as true that no reason nor policie can preuent what desperate folks wil do: & therfore they are among those dangers, which wisdome is not to recken.
Only let it suffice to take away their despaire, which may be by granting pardon for what is past; so as the Ladies may be freely deliuered. And let them that are your subiects, trust you that are their Prince: doo not you subiect your selfe to trust them, who are so vntrusty as to be manifest traitors.
For if they finde you so base-minded, as by their threatning to remoue your force, what indignitie is it, that they would not bring you vnto, still by the same threatning? since then if Loue stir them, loue will keep them from murthering what they loue; and if Ambition prouoke them, ambitious they will be, when you are away, as well as while you are here: take not away your force, which bars not the one, and bridels the other. For as for their shewes and words they are but feare-babes, not worthy once to moue a worthy mans conceit; which must still consider what in reason they are like to do. Their despaire I grant you shall do well to preuent, which as it is the last of all resolutions, so no man fals" into it, while so good a way as you may offer, is open vnto them.
In sum, you are a Prince, and a father of a people, who ought with the eye of wisdome, the hand of fortitude, and the hart of iustice to set downe all priuate conceits, in comparison of what for the publike is profitable.
He would haue proceeded on, when Gynecia came running in amazed for her daughter Pamela, but mad for Zelmane: and falling at Basilius feet, besought him to make no delay: vsing such gestures of compassion in steed of stopped words, that
Basilius, otherwise enough tender minded, easily granted to raise the siege, which he saw dangerous to his daughters: but indeed more carefull for Zelmane, by whose besieged person, the poore old man was streightly besieged: so as to rid him of the famine of his mind, he went in speed away, discharging his souldiors: only leauing the authority, as before, in Philanaxis hands, he himselfe went with Gynecia to a strong Castle of his, where he tooke counsell how first to deliuer Zelmane, whom he called the poore stranger, as though onely Law of hospitalitie moued him, and for that purpose sent diuers messengers to trafficke with Cecropia.
But she by this meanes rid of the present daunger of the siege (desiring Zoilus and Lycurgus to take the care, till their brother recouered, of reuictualling, and furnishing the Citie, both with men and what els wanted, against any new occasion should vrge them, she her selfe disdaining to harken to Basilius, without he would grant his daughter in mariage to her son, which by no means he would be brought vnto) bent all the sharpenesse of her malicious wit, how to bring a comfortable graunt to her sonne, whereupon she well found no lesse then his life depended. Therfore for a while she attēpted all meanes of eloquent praying, & flattering perswasion, mingling sometimes gifts, somtimes threatnings, as she had cause to hope, that either open force, or vndermining, would best win the castle of their Resolution. And euer as much as she did to Philoclea, so much did she to Pamela, though in manner sometimes differing, as she found fit to leuell at the ones noble height, and the others sweet lowlinesse. For though she knew her sonnes harte had wholly giuen it selfe to Philoclea, yet seeing the equall gifts in Pamela, she hoped, a faire grant would recouer the sorrow of a faire refusall: cruelly entending the present
impoysoning the one, as soone as the others affection were purchased.
But in vaine was all her vaine oratory employed. Pamelaes determination was built vpon so braue a Rock, that no shot of hers could reach vnto it: and Philoclea (though humbly seated) was so inuironed with sweete riuers of cleere vertue, as could neither be battred, nor vndermined: her witty perswasiōs had wise answers; her eloquence recompenced with sweetnes; her threatnings repelled with disdaine in the one, and patience in the other; her gifts either not accepted, or accepted to obey, but not to binde. So as Cecropia in nature violent; cruell, because ambitious; hatefull, for old rooted grudge to their mother, and now spitefull because she could not preuaile with girles, as she counted them; lastly, drawne on by her loue to her son, and held vp by a tyrannicall authoritie, forthwith followed the byas of her own crooked disposition, and doubling and redoubling her threatnings, fell to confirme some of her threatned effects: first withdrawing all comfort, both of seruants, & seruice from them. But that those excellent Ladies had bene vsed vnto, euen at home, and then found in themselues how much good the hardnes of education doth to the resistance of misery. Then dishonorably vsing them both in dyet, and lodging, by a contempt to pull downe their thoughts to yeelding. But as before, the consideration of a prison had disgraced all ornaments, so now the same consideration made them attend al diseasefulnes. Then stil, as she found those not preuaile, would she go forward with giuing them terrors, sometimes with noices of horror, sometimes with suddaine frightings in the night, when the solitary darkenesse thereof might easier astonish the disarmed senses. But to all Vertue, and Loue resisted, strengthned one by the other, when each found itselfe ouer-vehemently assaulted. Cecropia still sweetning her fiercenesses with faire promises, if they would promise faire; that feeling euill, and seeing a way far better, their mindes might the sooner be mollified. But they that could not taste her behauiour, when it was pleasing indeed, could worse now, when they had lost all taste by her iniuries.
She resoluing all extremities, rather then faile of conquest, pursued on her rugged way: letting no day passe, without new and new perplexing the poore Ladies minds, and troubling their bodies: and still swelling, the more she was stopped, and growing hot with her owne doings, at length, abhominable rage carried her to absolute tyrannies, so that taking with her certaine olde women (of wicked dispositions, and apt for enuie-sake to be cruell to youth and beautie) with a countenance impoisoned with malice, flew to the sweet Philoclea, as if so many Kites should come about a white Doue, and matching violēt gestures with mischieuous threatnings, she hauing a rod in her hand (like a fury that should carry wood to the burning of Dianas temple) fell to scourge that most beautifull body: Loue in vaine holding the shield of Beautie against her blind cruelty. The Son drew clouds vp to hide his face frō so pitifull a sight; and the very stone walls did yeeld drops of sweate for agonie of such a mischiefe: each senselesse thing had sense of pittie; onely they that had sense, were senseles. Vertue rarely found her worldly weakenes more, then by the oppression of that day: and weeping Cupid told his weeping mother, that he was sorie he was not deafe, as well as blind, that he might neuer know so lamentable a worke. Philoclea, with tearefull eyes, and sobbing breast (as soone as her wearines rather then compassion, gaue her respite) kneeled down to Cecropia, & making pittie in her face honourable, and torment delightfull, besought her, since she hated her (for what cause she tooke God to witnesse she knew not) that she would at
once take away her life, and not please her selfe with the tormenting of a poore Gentlewoman. If (said she) the common course of humanitie cannot moue you, nor the hauing me in your owne walles, cannot claime pittie: nor womanlie mercie, nor neere alliance, nor remembrance (how miserable so euer now) that I am a Princes daughter; yet let the loue (you haue often tolde me) your sonne beares me, so much procure, that for his sake, one death may be thought inough for me; I haue not liued so many yeares, but that one death may be able to conclude them: neither haue my faults, I hope, bene so many, but that one death may satisfie them. It is no great suite to an enemie, when but death is desired. I craue but that, and as for the graunting your request, know for certaine you lose your labours, being euery day furtherof-minded from becomming his wife, who vseth me like a slaue. But that in stead of getting grace, renued againe Cecropias fury: so that (excellent creature) she was newly againe tormented by those hellish monsters: Cecropia vsing no other words, but that she was a proud and vngratefull wench: and that she would teach her to know her owne good, since of her selfe she would not conceaue it. So that with silence and patience (like a faire gorgeous armour, hammered vppon by an ilfauoured Smith) she abode their pittiles dealing with her: till, rather reseruing her for more, then meaning to end, they left her to an vncomfortable leysure, to consider with her selfe her fortune; both helplesse her selfe, being a prisoner, and hopelesse, since Zelmane was a prisoner: who therein onely was short of the bottome of miserie, that she knew not how vnworthilie her Angell, by these deuils was abused: but wanted (God wot) no stings of griefe, when those words did but strike vpon her hart, that Philoclea was a captiue, and she not able to succour her. For well she knew the confidence Philoclea had in her, and well she knew, Philoclea
had cause to haue confidence: and all troden vnder foot by the wheele of senselesse Fortune. Yet if there be that imperious power in the soule, as it can deliuer knowledge to another, without bodilie organs; so vehement were the workings of their spirites, as one mette with other, though themselues perceaued it not, but onely thought it to be the doubling of their owne louing fancies. And that was the onely worldly thing, whereon Philoclea rested her minde, that she knewe she should die beloued of Zelmane, and should die, rather then be false to Zelmane. And so this most daintie Nimphe, easing the paine of her minde with thinking of anothers paine; and almost forgetting the paine of her bodie, through the paine of her minde, she wasted, euen longing for the conclusion of her tedious tragedie.
But for a while she was vnuisited, Cecropia employing her time in vsing the like crueltie vpon Pamela, her harte growing not onely to desire the fruite of punishing them, but euen to delight in the punishing them. But if euer the beames of perfection shined through the clowdes of affliction, if euer Vertue tooke a bodie to shewe his (els vnconceaueable) beautie, it was in Pamela. For when Reason taught her there was no resistance, (for to iust resistance first her harte was enclined) then with so heauenly a quietnes, and so gracefull a calmenes, did she suffer the diuers kindes of torments they vsed to her, that while they vexed her faire bodie, it seemed, that she rather directed, then obeyed the vexation. And when Cecropia ended, and asked whether her harte woulde yeelde: she a little smiled, but such a smiling as shewed no loue, and yet could not but be louelie. And then, Beastlie woman (sayde shee) followe on, doo what thou wilte,
and canst vpon me: for I know thy power is not vnlimited. Thou maist well wracke this sillie bodie, but me thou canst neuer ouerthrowe. For my part, I will not doo the
•
the pleasure to desire death of thee: but assure thy selfe, both my life and death, shall triumph with honour, laying shame vpon thy detestable tyranny.
And so, in effect, conquering their doing with her suffering, while Cecropia tried as many sorts of paines, as might rather vexe them, then spoyle them (for that she would not do while she were in any hope to winne either of them for her sonne) Pamela remained almost as much content with triall in her selfe, what vertue could doo, as grieued with the miserie wherein she found her selfe plunged: only sometimes her thoughts softned in her, when with open wings they flew to Musidorus.
For then she would thinke with her selfe, how grieuously Musidorus would take this her miserie; and she, that wept not for herselfe, wept yet Musidorus teares, which he would weepe for her. For gentle Loue did easlier yeeld to lamentation, then the constancy of vertue would els admitte. Then would she remember the case wherein she had left her poore shepheard, and she that wished death for her selfe, feared death for him; and she that condemned in her selfe the feeblenes of sorrow, yet thought it great reason to be sory for his sorow: and she that long had prayed for the vertuous ioyning themselues together, now thinking to die herselfe, hartely prayed, that long time their fortunes might be seperated. Liue long my Musidorus (would she say) and let my name liue in thy mouth; in thy harte my memorie. Liue long, that thou mayst loue long the chast loue of thy dead Pamela. Then would she wish to her selfe, that no other woman might euer possesse his hart: and yet scarcely the wish was made a wish, when her selfe would finde fault with it, as being too vniust, that so excellent a man should be banished from the comfort of life. Then would she fortifie her resolution, with bethinking the worst, taking the counsell of vertue, and comfort of loue.
So these diamonds of the world whom Nature had made to be preciously set in the eyes of men, to be the chiefe workes of her workemanship, the chiefe ornaments of the worlde, and Princesses of felicitie, by rebellious iniury were brought to the vttermost distres that an enemies hart could wish, or a womans spite inuent:
Cecropia dayly in one or other sorte punishing them, still with her euill torments giuing them feare of worse, making the feare it selfe the sorest torment of all; that in the ende wearie of their bodies, they should be content to bestow them at her appointment. But as in labour, the more one doth exercise it, the more by the doing one is enhabled to doo; strength growing vpon the worke, so as what at first would haue seemed impossible, after growes easie: so these Princesses second to none, and far from any second, only to be matched by themselues, with the vse of suffering their minds gat the habit of suffring so, as all feares and terrors were to them but summons to a battaile, whereof they knew before hand they would be victorious, and which in the suffering was painfull, being suffered, was a trophe to it selfe: whereby Cecropia found her selfe still farder off: for where at first she might perchance haue perswaded them to haue visited her sonne, and haue giuen him some comforte in his sicknesse, drawing neere to the confines of Deaths kingdome, now they protested, that they would neuer otherwise speake to him, then as to the enemy, of most vniust cruelty towards them, that any time or place could euer make them knowe.
This made the poison swell in her cankred brest, perceiuing that (as in water)
the more she grasped the lesse she held: but yet now hauing run so long the way of rigour, it was too late in reason, and too contrary to her passion, to returne to a course of meekenesse. And therefore (taking counsell of one of her olde associates who so far excelled in wickednesse, as that she had not onely lost all feeling of conscience, but had gotten a very glory in euill) in the ende they determined, that beating, and other such sharp dealing did not so much pull downe a womans hart, as it bred anger, and that nothing was more enemy to yeelding, then anger; making their tender harts take on the armour of obstinacy: (for thus did their wicked mindes blinde to the light of vertue, and owly eied in the night of wickednes interpret of it) and that therefore that was no more to be tried. And for feare of death (which no question would doo most with them) they had bene so often threatned, as they began to be familiarly acquainted with it, and learned to esteeme threatning words to be but words. Therefore the last, but best way now was, that the one seeing indeede the others death, should perceiue, there was no dallying meant: and then there was no doubt, that a womans soule would do much, rather then leaue so beautifull a body.
This being concluded, Cecropia went to Philoclea, and tolde her, that now she was to come to the last part of the play: for her part, though she found her hard harted obstinacie such, that neither the sweetnesse of louing meanes, nor the force of hard meanes could preuaile with her, yet before she would passe to a further degree of extremity; she had sought to win her sister; in hope, that her sonne might be with time satisfied with the loue of so faire a Lady: but finding her also rather more then lesse wilfull, she was now minded that one of their deathes should serue for an example to the other, that despising worthy folks was more hurtfull to the despiser, then the despised: that yet because her sonne especially affected her, and that" in her owne selfe she was more inclinable to pittie her, then she had deserued, she would begin with her sister; who that afternoone should haue her head cut off before her face; if in the meane time one of them, did not pull out their il-wrought stiches of vnkindnes, she bad her looke for no other, nor longer time then she told her. There was no assault giuen to the sweet Philocleas minde, that entered so far, as this: for where to all paines and daungers of her selfe, foresight with (his Lieutenant Resolution) had made ready defence; now with the loue she bare her sister, she was driuen to a stay, before she determined: but long she staied not, before this reason did shine vnto her, that since in herselfe she preferred death before such a base seruitude, loue did teach her to wish the same to her sister. Therefore crossing her armes, and looking side-ward vpon the ground, Do what you will (said she) with vs: for my part, heauen shall melt before I be remoued. But if you will follow my counsell, for your owne sake (for as for praiers for my sake I haue felt how little they preuaile) let my death first serue for example to win her, who perchaunce is not so resolued against Amphialus, and so shall you not onely iustly punish mee (who indeede doo hate both you and your sonne) but, if that may mooue you, you shall doo more vertuously in preseruing one most worthy of life, and killing an other most desirous of death: lastly in winning her, in steed of a peeuish vnhappie creature, that I am, you shall blesse your sonne with the most excellent woman in all praise-worthy things, that the world holdeth. But Cecropia, (who had already set downe to her selfe what she would do) with bitter both termes, and countenaunce, told her, that she should not neede to woo death ouer-egerly:
•
or if her sister
going before her did not teach her wit, her selfe should quickly follow. For since they were not to be gotten, there was no way for her sonnes quiet, but to knowe, that they were past getting. And so since no intreating, nor threatning might preuayle, she bad her prepare her eies for a new play, which she should see within fewe houres in the hall of that castle.
A place indeed ouerfit for so vnfit a matter: for being so stately made that the bottome of it being euen with the ground, the roofe reached as hie as any part of the castle, at either ende it had conuenient lodgings. In the one ende was (one storie from the ground) Philocleas abode, in the other of euen height, Pamelas, and Zelmanes in a chamber aboue her: but all so vaulted of strong, and thickly built stone, as one could no way heare the other: each of these chambers had a litle windowe to looke into the hall, but because the sisters should not haue so much comforte, as to looke one to another, there was (of the outsides) curtaynes drawne, which they could not reach with their hands, so barring the reach of their sight. But when the houre came that the Tragedie should beginne, the curtaynes were withdrawen from before the windowes of Zelmane, and of Philoclea: a sufficient challenge to call their eyes to defende themselues in such an incounter. And by and by came in at one ende of the hall, with about a dozen armed souldiers a Ladie, led by a couple, with her handes bounde before her: from aboue her eyes to her lippes muffled with a faire kerchiefe, but from her mouth to the shoulders all bare: and so was led on to a scaffold raised a good deale from the floore, and all couered with crimsin veluet. But neither Zelmane, nor Philoclea needed to be tolde who she was: for the apparell she ware made them too well assured, that it was the admirable Pamela. Whereunto the rare whitenesse of her naked necke gaue sufficient testimonie to their astonnished senses. But the fayre Ladie being come to the scaffold, and then made to kneele downe, and so lefte by her vnkinde supporters, as it seemed that she was about to speake somewhat (whereunto Philoclea, poore soule, earnestly listned, according to her speach euen minding to frame her minde, her harte neuer till then almost wauering to saue her sisters life) before the vnfortunate Ladie could pronounce three wordes, the executioner cut off the ones speech, and the others attention, with making his sworde doo his cruell office vpon that beautifull necke. Yet the pittilesse sworde had such pittie of so pretious an obiect, that at first it did but hit flat long. But little auailed that, since the Ladie falling downe astonnished withall, the cruell villayne forced the sworde with another blowe to diuorce the faire marriage of the head and body.
And this was done so in an instant, that the very act did ouerrun Philocleas sorrow (sorrow not being able so quickly to thunderbolt her harte thorough her senses, but first onely opprest her with a storme of amazement) but when her eies sawe that they did see, as condemning themselues to haue seene it, they became weary of their owne power of seeing: and her soule then drinking vp woe with great draughts, she fell downe to deadly traunces: but her waiting iaylors with cruell pitty brought lothed life vnto her; which yet many times tooke his leaue as though he would indeed depart: but when he was staied by force, he kept with him deadly Sorrow, which thus exercised her mourning speech. Pamela my sister, my sister Pamela, woe is me for thee, I would I had died for thee. Pamela neuer more shall I see thee: neuer more shall I enioy thy sweet companie, and wise counsell. Alas, thou arte gone to beautifie heauen, and hast left me here, who haue nothing
good in me, but that I did euer loue thee, and euer will lament thee. Let this daye be noted of all vertuous folkes for most vnfortunate: let it neuer be mentioned, but among curses; and cursed bee they that did this mischiefe, and most accursed bee mine eyes that behelde it. Sweete Pamela; that head is striken of, where onely wisedome might be spoken withall; that bodie is destroyed, which was the liuing booke of vertue. Deare Pamela how haste thou lefte me to all wretchednesse, and miserie? Yet while thou liuedst, in thee I breathed, of thee I hoped. O Pamela, how much did I for thy excellencie honour thee, more then my mother, and loue thee more then my selfe? Neuer more shall I lie with thee: neuer more shall we bathe in the pleasant riuer together: neuer more shall I see thee in thy shephearde apparell. But thou arte gone, and where am I? Pamela is dead; and liue I? O my God, And with that she fell againe in a soune, so as it was a great while before they could bring her to her selfe againe; but being come to her-selfe, Alas (said she) vnkind women, since you haue giuen me so many deathes, torment me not now with life: for Gods sake let me goe, and excuse your hands of more blood. Let me follow my Pamela, whom euer I sought to follow. Alas Pamela, they will not let me come to thee. But if they keepe promise, I shall treade thine owne steppes after thee. For to what am I borne (miserable soule) but to be most vnhappie in my selfe, and yet more vnhappie in others? But ô that a thousand more miseries had chanced vnto me, so thou haddest not dyed: Pamela, my sister Pamela. And so, like lamentable Philomela complained she the horrible wrong done to her sister, which if it stird not in the wickedly closed minds of her tormentors, a pittie of her sorrow, yet bredde it a wearinesse of her sorrow: so as onely leauing one to preuent any harme
•
he should doo her selfe, the rest went away, consulting againe with Cecropia, how to make profite of this their late bloodie act.
In the ende, that woman that vsed most to keepe company with Zelmane, tolde Cecropia, that she founde by many most sensible proofes in Zelmane, that there was neuer woman so loued another, as she loued Philoclea: which was the cause that she (further then the commandement of Cecropia) had caused Zelmanes curtaines to bee also drawne: because hauing the same spectacle that Philoclea had, shee might stand in the greater feare for her, whom she loued so well: and that indeed she had hit the needle in that deuise: for neuer saw she creature so astonished as Zelmane, exceedingly sory for Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that exceedingnes in feare for Philoclea. Therefore her aduice was, shee
•
houlde cause Zelmane to come and speake with
Philoclea. For there being such vehemencie of friendship between them, it was most likely both to moue Zelmane to perswade, and Philoclea to be perswaded, Cecropia liked well of the counsell, and gaue order to the same woman to go deale therin with Zelmane, and to assure her with othe, that Cecropia was determined Philoclea should passe the same way that Pamela had done, without she did yeeld to satisfie the extremitie of her sonnes affection: which the woman did, adding thereunto many (as she thought) good reasons to make Zelmane thinke Amphialus a fit match for Philoclea.
But Zelmane (who had from time to time vnderstood the cruell dealing they had vsed to the sisters, and now had her own eies wounded with the sight of ones death) was so confused withall (her courage still rebelling against her wit, desiring stil with force to doo impossible matters) that as her desire was stopped with power, so her conceit was darkned with a mist of desire. For blinde Loue; and inuincible valure
still would cry out, that it could not bee, Philoclea should bee in so miserable estate, and she not relieue her: and so while shee haled her wit to her courage, shee drew it from his owne limits. But nowe Philocleas death (a worde able to marshall
•
ll his thoughts in order) being come to so short a point either with small delay to be suffred, or by the giuing her selfe to another to be preuented, she was driuen to thinke, and to desire some leasure of thinking: which the woman granted for that night vnto her. A night that was not halfe so blacke, as her minde; not halfe so silent, as was fit for her musing thoughts. At last, he that would faine haue desperatly lost a thousand liues for her sake, could not finde in his harte, that she should loose any life for her owne sake; and he that despised his owne death in respect of honour, yet could well nye dispense with honour it selfe in respect of Philocleas death: for once the thought could not enter into his harte, nor the breath issue out of his mouth, which could consent to Philocleas death for any bargaine. Then how to preuent the next degree to death (which was her being possest by another) was the point of his mindes labour: and in that he founde no other way, but that Philoclea shoulde pretend a yeelding vnto Cecropias request; and so by speaking with Amphialus, and making faire (but delaying) promises, procure libertie for Zelmane; who only wisht but to come by a sword, not doubting then to destroy them all, and deliuer Philoclea: so little did both the men, and their forces seeme in her eyes, looking down vpon them from the hye toppe of affections tower.
With that minde therefore (but first well bound) shee was brought to Philoclea, hauing already plotted out in her conceite, how she would deale with her: and so came she with hart and eyes, which did each sacrifice either to Loue vpon the aultar of Sorrow: and there had shee the pleasing displeasing sight of Philoclea: Philoclea, whō alredy the extreame sense of sorrow had brought to a dulnesse therein, her face not without tokens that beautie had bene by many miseries cruelly battered, and yet shewed it most the perfection of that beautie, which coulde remaine vnouerthrowne by such enimies. But when Zelmane was set downe by her, and the women gone away (because she might be the better perswaded when no body was by, that had heard her say she would not bee perswaded) then began first the eyes to speake, and the harts to crie out: Sorrow a while would nedees speake his owne language without vsing their tongues to be his interpreters. At last Zelmane brake silence, but spake with the onely eloquence of amazement: for all her long methodized oratione was inherited onely by such kinde of speeches. Deare Ladie, in extreame necessities we must not. But alas vnfortunate wretch that I am, that I liue to see this daye. And I take heauen and earth to witnesse, that nothing: and with that her brest swelled so with spite and griefe, that her breath had not leasure to turne it selfe into words. But the sweet Philoclea that had alredie dyed in Pamela, & of the other side had the heauines of her hart something quickned in the most beloued sight of Zelmane, ghessed somewhat at Zelmanes mind; and therefore spake vnto her in this sort. My Pyrocles (saide shee) I knowe this exceeding comfort of your presence, is not brought vnto mee for any good-will that is owned vnto mee: but (as I suppose to make you perswade me to saue my life with the ransome of mine honour: although no bodie shoulde bee so vnfit a pleader in that cause, as your selfe, yet perchance you woulde haue me liue. Your honour? God forbid (saide Zelmane) that euer, for any cause, I should yeeld to any touch of it. But a while to pretend some affection, til time, or my libertie might worke somthing for your seruice: this, if my astonished
senses would giue me leaue, I would faine haue perswaded you.
To what purpose my Pyrocles? (said Philoclea) of a miserable time what gaine is there? hath Pamelaes example wrought no more in mee? is a captiue life so much worth? can euer it goe out of these lips, that I loue any other but Pyrocles? shall my tongue bee so false a traitor to my hart, as to say I loue any other but Pyrocles? And why should I do all this? to liue? O Pamela, sister Pamela, why shoulde I liue? onely for thy sake Pyrocles I would liue: but to thee I know too well I shall not liue; and if not to thee, hath thy loue so base allay, my Pyrocles, as to wish mee to liue? sor dissimulation, my Pyrocles, my simplicitie is such, that I haue hardly bene able to keepe a straight way; what shall I doo in a crooked? But in this case there is no meane of dissimulation, not for the cunningest: present answere is required, and present performance vpon the answere. Art thou so terrible, ô Death? No my Pyrocles; and for that I doo thanke thee, and in my soule thanke thee; for I confesse the loue of thee is heerein my chiefest vertue. Trouble mee not therefore, deare Pyrocles, nor double not my death by tormenting my resolution: since I cannot liue with thee, I will dye for thee. Onely remember me deare Pyrocles; and loue the remembrance of mee: & if I may craue so much of thee, let me be thy last loue, for though I be not worthy of thee (who indeed art the worthiest creature liuing) yet remember that my loue was a worthy loue. But Pyrocles was so ouercome with sorrow (which wisdome and vertue made iust in so excellent a Ladies case, full of so excellent kindnes) that words were ashamed to come forth knowing how weak they were to expresse his mind, and her merit: and therefore so stayed in a deadly silence, forsaken of hope and forsaking comfort: till the appointed gardians came in, to see the fruits of Zelmanes labour: and then Zelmane warned by their presence, fell againe to perswade, though scarcely her selfe could tell what; but in sum, desirous of delayes. But Philoclea sweetly continuing constant, and in the end punishing her importunity with silence, Zelmane was faine to ende. Yet crauing an other times conference, shee obtained it, and diuers others; till at the last Cecropia founde it was to no purpose, and therefore determined to follow her owne way. Zelmane yet still desirous to win (by any meanes) respit, euen wasted with sorrow, and vncertaine, whether in worse case in her presence, or absence, being able to doo nothing for Philocleas succour, but by submitting the greatest corage of the earth to fall at the feete of Cecropia, and craue stay of their sentence til the vttermost was seene, what her perswasions might doo.
Cecropia seemed much to bee moued by her importunitie, so as diuers dayes were wonne of painefull life to the excellent Philoclea: while Zelmane suffred some hope to cherrish her minde, especially trusting vpon the helpe of Musidorus, who (shee knew) woulde not bee idle in this matter, till one morning a noise awaked Zelmane, from whose ouer-watchfull mind, the tired body had stolne a little sleep: & streight with the first opening of her eyes, Care taking his woonted place, she ranne to the window which looked into the hall (for that way the noise guided her,) and there might shee see (the curtaine being left open euer since the last execution) seuen or eight persons in a cluster vpon the scaffold: who by and by retiring themselues, nothinge was to bee seene thereupon, but a basan of golde, pittifully enameled with bloud, and in the midst of it, the head of the most beautifull Philoclea. The horriblenes of the mischiefe was such, as Pyrocles coulde not at first beleeue his owne senses, but bent his woefull eyes to discerne it better: where too well hee might see it was
Philocleas selfe, hauing no veile, but beautie, ouer the face, which still appeared to be aliue: so did those eyes shine, euen as they were woont, and they were woont more then any other: and sometimes as they moued, it might well make the beholder think, that death therein had borowed her beautie, and not they any way disgraced by death: so sweet and pearsing a grace they caried with them.
It was not a pitie, it was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow which then laid hold on Pyrocles, but a wilde furie of desperate agonie, so that hee cried out, O tyraunt heauen, traytor earth, blinde prouidence; no iustice, howe is this done? how is this suffered? hath this worlde a gouernment? If it haue, let it poure out all his mischiefes vpon mee, and see whether it haue power to make mee more wrecthed then I am. Did she excell for this? haue I prayed for this? abhominable hande that did it; detestable deuill that commaunded it; cursed light that beheld it: and if the light be cursed, what are then mine eyes that haue seene it? And haue I seene Philoclea dead, and doo I liue? and haue I liued, not to helpe her, but to talke of her? and stande I still talking? And with that (caried with the madnes of anguish, not hauing a redier waye to kill himselfe) hee ranne as hard as euer hee coulde, with his head against the wall, with intention to braine himselfe: but the haste to do it made the doing the slower. For, as hee came to giue the blow, his foot tript, so as it came not with the full force: yet forcible inough to strike him downe; and withall, to depriue him of his sense, so that he lay a while comforted by the hurt, in that hee felte not his discomfort.
And when he came againe to himselfe, he heard, or he thought he heard a voice which cried, Reuenge, Reuenge vnto him; whether indeede it were his good Angell, which vsed that voice to stay him from vnnaturall murdering of himselfe; or that his wandering spirites lighted vpon that conceite, and by their weakenes subiect to apprehensions) supposed they heard it. But that indeed, helped with Vertue, and her valiant seruant Anger, stopped him from present destroying himselfe: yeelding, in reason and manhoode, first to destroy, man, woman, and childe, that were any way of kinne to them that were accessarie to this crueltie; then to raze the Castle, and to builde a sumptuous monument for her sister; and a most sumptuous for her selfe, and then, himselfe to die vpon her tomb. This determining in himselfe to do, and to seek all meanes how (for that purpose) to get out of prison: he was content a while to beare the thirst of death: and yet went he againe to the windowe, to kisse the beloued heade with his eies, but there saw hee nothing but the scaffold, all couered ouer with skarlet, & nothing but solitarie silence, to mourn this mischiefe. But then, Sorrow hauing disperste it selfe from his harte, into all his noble partes, it proclaimed his authoritie, in cries, and teares, and with a more gentle dolefulnes, coulde poure out his inward euill.
Alas (saide he) and is that head taken away too, so soone from mine eyes? What, mine eyes, perhappes they enuie the excellencie of your sorrowe? Indeede, there is nothing now left to become the eyes of all mankinde, but teares: and woe bee to me, if any exceede me in wofulnes. I doo coniure you all, my senses, to accept no obiect, but of Sorrow: be ashamed, nay, abhor to thinke of comfort. Vnhappie eyes you haue seene too much, that euer the light shoulde bee welcome to you: vnhappie eares, you shall neuer heare the musicke of Musicke in her voice vnhappie hast, that haste liued to feele these pangues. Thou hast done thy worst, World, and cursed be thou, and cursed art thou, since to thine owne selfe thou hast done the worst
thou couldest doo. Exiled Beautie, let onely now thy beautie bee blubbered faces, Widowed Musicke, let now thy tunes be rorings, and lamentations. Orphane Vertue, get thee winges, and flie after her into heauen; heere is no dwelling place for thee. Why liued I, alas? Alas why loued I? to die wretched, and to be the example of the heauens hate? And hate, and spare not, for your worst blow is striken. Sweete Philoclea, thou art gone, and hast carried with thee my loue; and hast left thy loue in me, and I wretched man do liue; I liue, to die continually, till thy reuenge do giue me leaue to dy: & thē dy I wil, my Philoclea, my hart willinglie makes this promise to it selfe. Surely hee did not looke vpon thee, that gaue the cruell blow: for no eye could haue abidden to see such beautie ouerthrowen by such mischiefe. Alas, why should they diuide such a head from such a bodie? no other bodye is worthy of that head; no other head is worthie of that body: O yet, if I had taken my last leaue, if I might haue taken a holie kisse from that dying mouth. Where art thou Hope which promisest neuer to leaue a man while he liueth? Tell me, what canst thou hope for? nay tel me, what is ther which I would willingly hope after? Wishing power (which is accounted infinite) what now is left to wish for? She is gone, and gone with her all my hope, all my wishing. Loue, be ashamed to be called Loue: cruell Hate, vnspeakable Hate is victorious ouer thee. Who is there nowe left, that can iustifie thy tyrannie, and giue reason to thy passion? O cruell diuorce of thy sweetest mariage that euer was in Nature: Philoclea is dead, and dead is with her all goodnesse, all sweetnes al excellencie. Philoclea is dead, & yet Life is not ashamed to continue vpon the earth. Philoclea is dead: O deadly word; which cōtaineth in it selfe the vttermost of al misfortunes. But happie worde when thou shalt be said of me, and long it shall not be, before it be said.
Then stopping his wordes with sighes, drowning his sighes in teares, and drying againe his teares in rage, he would sitte a while in a wandring muse, which represented nothing but vexations vnto him: then throwing himselfe sometime vpon the floore, and sometimes vpon the bedde: then vp againe, till walking was wearisome and rest loathsome: and so neither suffering foode, nor sleepe to helpe his afflicted nature, all that day and night he did nothing, but weepe Philoclea, sigh Philoclea, and crie out Philaclea: till as it happened (at that time vpon his bed) towarde the dawning of the day, he heard one stirre in his chamber, by the motion of garments; and with an angry voice asked, Who was there? A poore Gentlewoman (answered the partie) that wish long life vnto you. And I soone death to you (said he) for the horrible curse you haue giuen me. Certainely (said she) an vnkind answere, and far vnworthy the excellencie of your minde; but not vnsutable to the rest of your behauiour. For most parte of this night I haue hearde you (being let into your chamber, you neuer perceiuing it, so was your minde estraunged from your senses) and haue hearde nothing of Zelmane, in Zelmane, nothing but weake waylings fitter, for some nurse of a village, then so famous a creature as you are. O God (cried out Pyrocles) that thou wert a man that vsest these wordes vnto me. I tell thee I am sorry: I tell thee I will be sory in despite of thee, and all them that woulde haue mee ioyful. And yet (replied she) perchance Philoclea is not dead, whom you so much bemone I would we were both dead of that condition, said Pyrocles. See the folly of your passion (said she) as though you should be neerer to her, you being dead, and she aliue; then shee being dead, and you aliue: and if shee be dead, was shee not borne to die? what then do you crie out for? not for her, who must haue died one time or other;
but for some fewe yeares: so as it is time, and this world that seeme so louely things, and not Philoclea vnto you. O noble Sisters (cried Pyrocles) now you be gone (who were the onely exalters of all womankind) what is left in that sex, but babling, and businesse? And truely (said she) I will yet a little longer trouble you. Nay, I praye you doo (said Pyrocles) for I wishe for nothing in my shorte life, but mischiefes, and combers: and I am content you shall be one of them. In truth (said she) you would thinke your selfe a greatly priuiledged person, if since the strongest building, and lastingest monarchies are subiect to ende, onely your Philoclea (because she is yours) should be exempted. But indeede you bemone your selfe, who haue lost a friende: you cannot her, who hath in one act both preserued her honour, and leste the miseries of this worlde. O womans philosophie, childish follie (said Pyrocles) as though if I do bemone my selfe, I haue not reason to doo so, hauing lost more then any Monarchie, nay then my life can be woorth vnto me. Alas (saide shee) comforte your selfe, Nature did not forget her skill, when she had made them: you shall find many their superiours, and perchaunce such, as (when your eyes shall looke abroad) your selfe will like better.
But that the speech put al good manners out of the conceit of Pyrocles; in so much, that leaping out of his bed, he ran to haue striken her: but comming neere her (the morning then winning the field of darkenesse) he saw, or hee thought hee sawe, indeed, the very face of Philoclea; the same sweetenesse, the same grace, the same beautie: with which carried into a diuine astonishment, he fell downe at her feete. Most blessed Angell (said he) well haste thou done to take that shape, since thou wouldest submit thy selfe to mortall sense; for a more Angelicall forme coulde not haue bene created for thee. Alas, euen by that excellent beautie, so beloued of me, let it be lawfull for me to aske of thee, what is the cause, that shee, that heauenly creature, whose forme you haue taken, shoulde by the heauens bee destined to so vnripe an ende? Why should vniustice so preuaile? Why was she seene to the world so soone to be rauished from vs? Why was shee not suffered to liue, to teach the worlde perfection? Doo not deceiue thy selfe (answered shee) I am no Angell; I am Philoclea, the same Philoclea, so truely louing you, so truely beloued of you. If it be so (said he) that you are indeede the soule of Philoclea, you haue done well to keepe your owne figure: for no heauen could haue giuen you a better. Then alas, why haue you taken the paines to leaue your blisfull seat to come to this place most wretched, to mee, who am wretchednes it selfe, & not rather obtaine for me, that I might come where you are, there eternally to behold, and eternally to loue your beauties? you knowe (I know) that I desire nothing but death, which I onely stay, to bee iustly reuenged of your vniust murtherers. Deare Pyrocles (said shee) I am thy Philoclea, and as yet liuing: not murdred, as you supposed, and therefore bee comforted. And with that gaue him her hand, But the sweet touch of that hand seemed, to his astraied powers so heauenly a thing, that it rather for a while confirmed him in his former beliefe: till she, with vehement protestations (and desire that it might be so, helping to perswade that it was so) brought him to yeeld; yet doubtfully to yeelde to this height of all comfort, that Philoclea liued: which witnessing with teares of ioy, Alas (saide he) how shall I beleeue mine eies any more? or doo you yet but appeare thus vnto me, to stay me from some desperate end? For alas I sawe the excellent Pamela beheaded: I sawe your head (the head indeede, and chiefe parte of all natures workes) standing in a dishe of golde, too meane a shrine (God wote) for such a relike. How
can this be, my onely deare, and you liue? or if this be not so, how can I beleeue mine owne senses? and if I can not beleeue them, why should I now beleeue these blessed tidings they bring me?
The truth is (said she) my Pyrocles, that neither I (as you finde) nor yet my deare sister is dead: although the mischieuously suttle Cecropia vsed slights to make either of vs thinke so of other. For, hauing in vaine attempted the fardest of her wicked eloquence, to make eyther of vs yeeld to her sonne, and seeing that neither it, accompanied with great flatteries, and riche presents, could get any ground of vs, nor yet the violent way she fell into of cruelly tormenting our bodies, could preuayle with vs; at last, she made either of vs thinke the other dead, and so hoped to haue wrested our mindes to the forgetting of vertue: and first she gaue to mine eyes the miserable spectacle of my sisters (as I thought) death: but indeede it was not my sister: it was onely Artesia, she who so cunningly brought vs to this misery. Truly I am sory for the poore Gentlewoman, though iustly she be punished for her double falshood: but Artesia muffled so, as you could not easily discerne her; and in my sisters apparell (which they had taken from her vnder colour of giuing her other) did they execute: And when I (for thy sake especially deare Pyrocles) could by no force, nor feare be won, they assayed the like with my sister, by bringing me downe vnder the scaffolde, and (making me thrust my head vp through a hole they had made therein) they did put about my poore necke a dishe of gold, whereout they had beaten the bottome, so as hauing set bloud in it, you sawe how I played the parte of death (God knowes euen willing to haue done it in earnest) and so had they set me, that I reached but on tiptoes to the grounde, so as scarcely I could breathe, much lesse speake: And truely if they had kept me there any whit longer, they had strangled me, in steed of beheading me: but then they tooke me away, and seeking to see their issue of this practise, they found my noble sister (for the deare loue she vouchsafeth to beare me) so grieued withall, that she willed them to doo their vttermost crueltie vnto her: for she vowed, neuer to receiue sustenaunce of them, that had bene the causers of my murther: and finding both of vs, euen giuen ouer, not like to liue many houres longer, and my sister Pamela, rather worse then my selfe, (the strength of her harte worse bearing those indignities) the good woman Cecropia (with the same pittie as folkes keepe foule, when they are not fatte inough for their eating) made vs knowe her deceipt, and let vs come one to another; with what ioye you can well imagine, who I know feele the like; sauing that we only thought our selues reserued to miseries, and therefore fitter for condoling, then congratulating. For my part, I am fully perswaded, it is but with a little respite, to haue a more feeling sense of the torments she prepares for vs. True it is, that one of my guardians would haue me to beleeue, that this proceedes of my gentle cousin Amphialus:
who hauing heard some inckling that we were euill entreated, had called his mother to his bedside, from whence he neuer rose since his last combat, and besought, and charged her vpon all the loue she bare him, to vse vs with all kindnesse: vowing, with all the imprecations he could imagine, that if euer he vnderstood for his sake, that I receiued further hurt then the want of my libertie, hee would not liue an houre longer. And the good woman sware to me that he would kill his mother, if hee knewe how I had bene dealt with; but that Cecropia keepes him from vnderstanding thinges howe they passe, onely hauing heard
a whispering, and my selfe named, he had (of aboundaunce, forsooth, of honorable loue) giuen this charge for vs. Whereupon this enlargement of mine was growne: for my parte I know too well their cunning (who leaue no mony vnoffered that may buy mine honour) to beleeue any word they say, but (my deare Pyrocles) euen looke for the worste, and prepare my selfe for the same. Yet I must confesse, I was content to robbe from death, and borrowe of my misery the sweet comfort of seeing my sweet sister, and most sweete comfort of thee my Pyrocles. And so hauing leaue, I came stealing into your chamber: where (O Lord) what a ioy it was vnto me, to heare you solemnise the funerals of the poore Philoclea? That I my selfe might liue to heare my death bewailed? and by whom? by my deere Pyrocles. That I saw death was not strong enough to diuide thy loue from me? O my Pyrocles, I am too well paide for my paines I haue suffred: ioyfull is my woe for so noble a cause; and welcome be all miseries, since to thee I am so welcome. Alas how I pittied to heare thy pittie of me; and yet a great while I could not finde in my hart to interrupt thee, but often had euen pleasure to weepe with thee: and so kindly came forth thy lamentations, that they inforced me to lament to, as if indeed I had beene a looker on, to see poore Philoclea dye. Till at last I spake with you, to try whether I could remoue thee from sorrow, till I had almost procured my selfe a beating. And with that she pretily smiled, which, mingled with her teares, one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure, or a delightfull sorrow: but like when a few Aprill drops are scattered by a gentle Zephyrus among fine coloured flowers. But Pyrocles, who had felt (with so small distance of time) in himselfe the ouerthrow both of hope and despaire, knew not to what key he should tune his mind, either of ioy, or sorrow. But finding perfite reason in neither, suffred himself to be caried by the tide of his imagination, and his imaginations to be raised euen by the sway, which hearing or seing, might giue vnto them: he saw her aliue, he was glad to see her aliue: he saw her weep, he was sory to see her weep: he heard her comfortable speches, nothing more gladsome: he hard her prognosticating her own destruction, nothing more dolefull. But when he had a little taken breath from the panting motion of such contrarietie in passions, he fell to consider with her of her present estate, both comforting her, that certainely the worst of this storme was past, since alreadie they had done the worst, which mans wit could imagine: and that if they had determined to haue killed her, now they would haue done it: and also earnestly counselling her, and inhabling his counsels with vehement prayers, that she would so far second the hopes of Amphialus, as that she might but procure him liberty; promising then as much to her, as the liberalitie of louing corage durst promise to himselfe.
But who would liuely describe the manner of these speeches, should paint out the lightsome coulours of affection, shaded with the deepest shadowes of sorrow, finding then betweene hope and feare, a kind of sweetenes in teares: till Philoclea
content to receaue a kisse, and but a kisse of Pyrocles, sealed vp his mouing lips, and closed them vp in comfort: and her-selfe (for the passage was left betweene them open) went to her sister: with whom she had stayed but a while, fortifying one another (while Philoclea tempered Pamelas iust disdaine, and Pamela ennobled Philocleas sweet humblenesse) when Amphialus cam vnto them: who neuer since he had heard Philoclea named, could bee quiet in himselfe, although none of them about him (fearing more his mothers violence then his power) would
discouer what had passed: and many messages he sent to know her estate, which brought answeres backe, according as it pleased Cecropia to indite them, till his hart full of vnfortunate affection, more and more misgiuing him, hauing impatiently borne the delay of the nights vnfitnesse, this morning he gat vp, and though full of woundes (which not without daunger could suffer such exercise) he apparelled himselfe, and with a countenance, that shewed strength in nothing but in griefe, he came where the sisters were; and weakely kneeling downe, he besought them to pardon him, if they had not bene vsed in that castle according to their worthines, and his duetie; beginning to excuse small matters, poore Gentleman, not knowing in what sort they had bene handled.
But Pamelaes hye hart (hauing conceiued mortall hate for the iniurie offred to her and her sister) could scarcely abide his sight, much lesse heare out his excuses; but interrupted him with these words. Traitor (said she) to thine owne blood, and false to the profession of so much loue as thou hast vowed, doo not defile our eares with thy excuses; but pursue on thy crueltie, that thou and thy godly mother haue vsed towards vs: for my part, assure thy selfe, and so do I answere for my sister (whose mind I know) I do not more desire mine owne safetie then thy destruction. Amazed with this speech, he turned his eye, full of humble sorrowfulnes, to Philoclea. And is this (most excellent Ladie) your doome of me also? She, sweete Ladie, sate weeping: for as her most noble kinsman she had euer fauoured him, and loued his loue, though she could not be in loue with his person; and now partly vnkindnes of his wrong, partly pittie of his case, made her sweete mind yeeld some teares, before she could answere; and her answere was no other, but that she had the same cause as her sister had. He replyed no further, but deliuering from his hart two or three (vntaught) sighes, rose, and with most low reuerence went out of their chamber: and streight by threatning torture, learned of one of the women, in what terrible manner those Princesses had bene vsed. But when he heard it, crying out, O God; and then not able to say any more (for his speech went backe to rebound woe vpon his hart) he needed no iudge to goe vpon him: for no man could euer thinke any other worthy of greater punishment, then he thought himselfe. Full therefore of the horriblest despaire, which a most guiltie conscience could breed, with wild lookes promising some terrible issue, vnderstanding his mother was vpon the top of the leades, he caught one of his seruants swords from him, and none of them daring to stay him, he went vp, carried by furie, in steede of strength; where she was at that time, musing how to goe thorough with this matter, and resoluing to make much of her Neeces in shew, and secreatly to impoison them; thinking since they were not to be wonne, her sonnes loue would no otherwise be mitigated.
But when she sawe him come in with a sworde drawne, and a looke more terrible then the sword, she streight was stricken with the guiltines of her owne conscience: yet the wel known humblenes of her sonne somwhat animated her, till he, comming nearer her, and crying to her, Thou damnable creature, onely fit to bring forth such a monster of vnhappines as I am; she fearing he would haue stricken her (though indeed he meant it not, but only intended to kill himselfe in her presence) went backe so farre, till ere she were aware, she ouerthrew her selfe from ouer the Leades, to receaue her deathes kisse at the ground: and yet was she not so happie as presentlie to dye, but that she had time with hellish agonie to see her sonnes
〈1 page missing〉
〈1 page missing〉
then knowen, whom she had in her Countrey, but so olde, as not able to trauaile: but had giuen her soueraigne annointments, to preserue his body withall, till he might be brought vnto him: and that Basilius had graunted leaue: either naturall kindnes preuailing ouer all the offences done, or rather glad to make any passage, which might leade him out of his countrie, and from his daughters. This discourse
Lycurgus vnderstanding of Helene, deliuered to his brother, with her vehement desire to see the body, and take her last farewell of him. Anaxius, though hee were fallen out with all womankind (in respect of the hate he bare the sisters, whom hee accounted murtherers of Amphialus) yet at his brothers request, graunted her leaue. And she (poore Lady) with grieuous expectation, and languishing desire, caried her faint legs to the place where he lay, either not breathing, or in all appearance breathing nothing but death.
In which pittious plight when she saw him, though Sorow had set before her minde the pittifullest conceit thereof that it could paint, yet the present sight went beyonde all former apprehensions: so that beginning to kneele by the bodie, her sight ranne from her seruice, rather then abide such a sight; and she fell in a soune vpon him, as if she could not choose but dye of his wounds. But when her breath (aweary to be closed vp in woe) broke the prison of her faire lippes, and brought memorie (with his seruaunt senses) to his naturall office, she yet made the breath conuey these dolefull wordes with it. Alas (said she) Amphialus, what strange disasters be these, that hauing sought thee so long, I should be now sorie to finde thee? that these eyes should looke vpon Amphialus, and be grieued withall? that I should haue thee in my power without glory, and embrace thee without comfort? How often haue I blest the meanes that might bring me neere thee? Now, woe worth the cause that brings me so neere thee. Often, alas, often hast thou disdained my teares: but now, my deare Amphialus, receiue them: these eyes can serue for nothing else, but to weepe for thee; since thou wouldest neuer vouchsafe them thy comfort, yet disdaine not them thy sorrow. I would they had bene more deare vnto thee; for then hadst thou liued. Woe is me that thy noble harte could loue who hated thee, and hate who loued thee. Alas, why should not my faith to thee couer my other defects, who only sought to make my Crowne thy foote-stoole, my selfe thy seruaunt? that was all my ambition; and alas thou disdainedst it to serue them, by whom thy incomparable selfe were disdained. Yet (ô Philoclea) wheresoeuer you are, pardon me, if I speake in the bitternes of my soule, excellent may you be in all other things (and excellent sure you are since he loued you) your want of pittie, where the fault onely was infinitenesse of desert, cannot be excused. I would, O God, I would that you had graunted his deserued suite of marrying you, and that I had bene your seruing-maide, to haue made my estate the foile of your felicitie, so he had liued. How many weary steps haue I trodden after thee, while my onely complaint was, that thou wert vnkinde? Alas I would now thou wert, to be vnkind. Alas why wouldest thou not commaund my seruice, in persuading Philoclea to loue thee? who could, or (if euery one could) who would haue recounted thy perfections so well, as I? who with such kindly passions could haue stirred pittie for thee as I? who should haue deliuered not only the wordes, but the teares I had of thee? and so shouldest thou haue exercised thy disdaine in me, and yet vsed my seruice for thee.
With that the body mouing somewhat, and giuing a groneful of deaths musick,
she fell vpon his face, and kist him, and with all cried out. O miserable I, that haue onely fauour by miserie: and then, woulde shee haue returned to a fresh careere of complaints, when an aged and wise Gentleman came to her, and besought her, to remember what was fit for her greatnesse, wisdome, and honour: and with all, that it was fitter to show her loue, in carying the body to her excellent Surgeon, first applying such excellent medicines as she had receiued of him for that purpose, rather then onely shew her selfe a woman-louer in fruitles lamentations. She was streight warned with the obedience of an ouerthrowen minde, and therefore leauing some surgeons of her owne to dresse the body, went herselfe to Anaxius, and humbling her selfe to him, as lowe as his owne pride could wish, besought him, that since the surgeons there had vtterly giuen him ouer, that he would let her carie him awaye in her litter with her, since the worst he could haue should bee to die, and to die in her armes that loued him aboue all things; and where he should haue such monuments erected ouer him, as were fit for her loue, and his worthines: beseeching him withall, since she was in a country of enemies (where shee trusted more to Anaxius valour, then Basilius promise) that he would conuey them safely out of those territories Her reasons something moued him, but nothinge thoroughly perswaded him, but the last request of his helpe: which he streight promised, warranting all securitie, as long as that sword had his master aliue. She as happy therein as vnhappines coulde be (hauing receiued as small comfort of her owne surgeons as of the others) caused yet the body to bee easily conueyed into the litter: all the people then beginning to roare and crie, as though neuer till then they had lost their Lord. And if the terrour of Anaxius had not kept them vnder, they would haue mutinied, rather then suffered his bodie to be caried away.
But Anaxius him selfe riding before the litter, with the choyce men of that place
•
they were affraid euen to crie, though they were ready to crie for feare: but (because that they might doo) euery bodie forced (euen with harming themselues) to doo honour to him: some throwing themselues vpon the grounde; some tearing their clothes, and casting duste vpon their heades, and some euen woundring themselues and sprinkling their owne bloud in the aire.
The generall consort of whose mourning, perfourmed so the naturall tunes of sorrow; that euen to them (if any such were) that felt not the losse, yet others griefe taught them grief; hauing before their compassionate sense so passionate a spectacle, of a young man, of great beautie, beautified with great honour, honoured by great valure, made of inestimable value, by the noble vsing of it, to lye there languishing, vnder the arrest of death, and a death, where the manner could be no comfort to the discomfortablenes of the matter. But when the bodie was carried through the gate, and the people (sauing such as were appointed) not suffred to goe further, then was such an vniuersall crie, as if they had all had but one life, and all receaued but one below.
Which so moued Anaxius to consider the losse of his friend, that (his mind apter to reuenge, then tendernesse) hee presently giuing order to his brother to keepe the prisoners safe, and vnuisited, till his retourne from conueying Helen hee sent a messenger to the sisters, to tell them this curteous message: that at his retourne with his owne handes; hee woulde cut off their heades, and sende them for tokens to their father.
This message was brought vnto the sisters, as they sate at that time together with
Zelmane, conferring how to carrie themselues, hauing heard of the death of Amphialus. And as no expectation of death is so paineful, as where the resolution is hindred by the intermixing of hopes, so did this new alarum, though not remoue, yet moue somwhat the constancy of their mindes, which were so vnconstantly dealt with. But within a while, the excellent Pamela had brought her minde againe to his olde acquaintance: and then, as carefull for her sister (whom most deerely she loued) Sister (saide shee) you see how many acts our Tragedy hath: Fortune is not yet a wearie of vexing vs: but what? A shippe is not counted strong for byding one storme? It is but the same trumpet of death, which now perhaps giues the last sounde: and let vs make that profite of our former miseries, that in them wee learned to dye willingly. Truely saide Philoclea, deare sister, I was so beaten with the euils of life, that though I had not vertue enough to despise the sweetnesse of it, yet my weaknesse bredde that strength, to be wearie of the paines of it: onely I must confesse, that little hope, which by these late accidents was awaked in me, was at the first angrie withall. But euen in the darkenesse of that horrour, I see a light of comfort appeare; and how can I treade amisse, that see Pamela steppes? I would onely (O that my wish might take place) that my schoole-Mistres might liue, to see mee say my lesson truely. Were that a life, my Philoclea? said Pamela. No, no, (saide shee) let it come, and put on his worst face: for at the worst it is but a bug-beare. Ioy is it to me to see you so well resolued; and since the world will not haue vs, let it lose vs. Onely (with that she stayed a little, and sighed) only my Philoclea, (then she bowed downe, and whispered in her eare) onely Musidorus, my shepheard, comes betwene me and death, and makes me thinke I should not dye, because I know he would not I shoulde dye. With that Philoclea sighed also, saying no more, but looking vpon Zelmane: who was walking vp and downe the chamber, hauing heard this message from Anaxius, and hauing in times past heard of his nature, thought him like enough to performe it, which winded her againe into the former maze of perplexitie. Yet debating with her selfe of the manner how to preuent it, she continued her musing humour, little saying, or indeede, little finding in her hart to say, in a case of such extremitie, where peremptorily death was threatned: and so stayed they; hauing yet that comfort, that they might tarrie togither. Pamela nobly, Philoclea sweetely, and Zelmane sadly, and desperately none of them entertaining sleep, which they thought should shortly begin neuer to awake.
But Anaxius came home, hauing safely conduct Helen and safely hee might well do it: For though many of Basilius Knights would haue attempted something vpon Anaxius, by that meanes to deliuer the Ladies; yet Philanax, hauing receaued his masters commandement, and knowing his word was giuen, would not consent vnto it. And the black-Knight (who by them was able to carry abroad his wounds) did not knowe thereof; but was bringing force, by force to deliuer his Lady. So as Anaxius, interpreting it rather feare, then faith, and making euen chance an argument of his vertue, returned: and as soone as hee was returned, with afelon hart calling his brothers vp with him, he went into the chamber, where they were all three togither; with full intention to kill the sisters with his owne handes, and sende their heads for tokens to their father: Though his brothers (who were otherwise enclined) disswaded him: but his reuerence stayed their perswasions. But when hee was come into the chamber, with the very wordes of cholerike threatning climing vp his throate, his eyes first lighted vpon Pamela; who hearing hee was comming, and
looking for death, thought she would keepe her owne maiestie in welcomming it; but the beames therof so strake his eyes, with such a counterbuffe vnto his pride, that if his anger could not so quickly loue, nor his pride so easily honor, yet both were forced to finde a worthinesse.
Which while it bred a pause in him, Zelmane (who had ready in her minde both what and how to say) stept out vnto him, and with a resolute stayednes (void either of anger, kindnes, disdaine, or humblenesse) speake in this sort. Anaxius (said she) if Fame haue not bene ouerpartiall to thee, thou art a man of exceeding valour. Therefore I doo call thee euen before that vertue, & will make it the iudge between vs. And now I doo affirme, that to the eternall blot of all the faire actes that thou hast done, thou doest weakely, in seeking without daunger to reuenge his death, whose life with daunger thou mightst perhapes haue preserued: thou doost cowardly, in going about by the death of these excellent Ladies, to preuent the iust punishment that hereafter they by the powers, which they better then their father, or any other could make, might lay vpon thee; and doost most basely, in once presenting thy selfe as an executioner; a vile office vpon men, and in a iust cause: beyond the degree of any vile worde, in so vniust a cause, and vpon Ladies, and such Ladies. And therefore, as a hangman. I say, thou art vnworthy to be counted a knight, or to be admitted into the companie of Knights. Neither for what, I say, will I alleadge other reasons, of wisdome, or iustice, to prooue my speech, because I knowe thou doost disdaine to be tied to their rules: but euen in thine own vertue (whereof thou so much gloriest) I will make my triall: and therfore defie thee, by the death of one of vs two to proue, or disproue these reproaches. Choose thee what armes thou likest, I onely demaund, that these Ladies (whome I defende) may in liberty see the combate.
When Zelmane began her speech, the excellency of her beautie, and grace, made him a little content to heare. Besides that, a new lesson he had read in Pamela had already taught him some regard. But when shee entered into brauerie of speech, hee thought at first, a mad, and railing humor possest her; till, finding the speeches hold well together, and at length come to flatte challenge of combat; hee stoode leaning backe with his bodie and head, sometimes with bent browes looking vpon the one side of her, sometimes of the other, beyonde maruell maruailing, that hee, who had neuer heard such speeches from any Knight, shoulde be thus rebuffed by a woman; and that maruell made him heare out her speech: which ended, he turned his head to his brother Zoilus, and said nothing, but onely lifting vp his eyes, smiled. But Zelmane
finding his minde, Anaxius (said she) perchaunce thou disdaynest to answere me because, as a woman, thou thinkest me not fitte to bee fought with all. But I tell thee, that I haue beene trayned vp in martiall matters, with so good successe, that I haue many times ouercome brauer Knightes then thy selfe: and am wel knowen to be equall in feates of armes, to the famous Pyrocles, who slewe thy valiaunt Vncle, the Giant Euardes. The remembraunce of his Vncles death some
•
hing netled him, so as he answered thus.
Indeed (saide he) any woman may bee as valiaunt as that coward, and traytorly boy, who slewe my Vncle trayterously, and after ranne from me in the plaine field. Fiue thousand such could not haue ouercome Euardes, but by falshood. But I sought him all ouer Asia, following him stil from one of his cony-holes to another: till comming into this Countrie, I heard of my friends being besieged, and so came to blow away the wretches that troubled him. But wheresoeuer the miserable boy flie, heauen,
nor hell, shall keepe his harte from being torne by these handes. Thou lyest in thy throate (said Zelmane) that boye, where euer he went, did so noble actes, as thy harte (as proude as it is) dares not think of, much lesse perfourme. But to please thee the better with my presence, I tell thee, no creature can be neerer of kinne to him, then my selfe: and so well we loue, that he woulde not be sorrier for his owne death then for mine: I being begotten by his father, of an Amazon Ladie. And therefore, thou canst not deuise to reuenge thy self more vpon him, then by killing me: which if thou darest doo manfullie, doo it; otherwise, if thou harme these incomparable Ladies, or my felfe without daring to fight with me, I protest before these Knights, and before heauen and earth, (that will reueile thy shame) that thou art the beggerliest dastardly villaine, that dishonoureth the earth with his steppes: and if thou lettest me ouer-liue them, so will I blaze thee. But all this coulde not moue Anaxius, but that he onely said, Euill should it become the terror of the world, to fight, much worse to skolde with thee.
But (said he) for the death of these same (pointing to the Princesses) of my grace, I giue them life. And withall, going to Pamela, and offring to take her by the chin, And as for you, Minion (saide hee) yeeld but gently to my will, and you shall not onely liue, but liue so happily, Hee would haue said further, when Pamela, displeased both with wordes, matter, and maner, putting him awaye with her faire hande, Proud beast (said shee) yet thou plaiest worse thy Comedy, then thy Tragedy. For my part, assure thy selfe, since my destiny is such, that at each moment my life and death stand in equall balance, I had rather haue thee, and thinke thee far fitter to be my hangman, then my husband. Pride and anger, woulde faine haue cruelly reuenged so bitter an answere, but alredy Cupid had begun to make it his sport, to pull his plumes: so that, vnused to a waye of courtesie, and put out of his byas of pride, hee hastily went away, grumbling to himselfe; betweene threatning and wishing; leauing his brothers with them: the elder of whom, Lycurgus, liked Philoclea, and Zoilus would needes loue Zelmane; or at lest, entertaine themselues with making them beleue so. Lycurgus more braggard, and neere his brothers humor, began, with setting foorth their bloud, their deedes, howe many they had despised, of most excellent women; how much they were bound to them, that woulde seeke that of them. In summe, in all his speeches, more like the bestower, then the desirer of felicitie. Whom it was an excellent pastime (to those that woulde delight in the play of vertue) to see, with what a wittie ignorance shee woulde not vnderstande: and howe: acknowledging his perfections, shee woulde make, that one of his perfections, not to be iniurious to Ladies. But when he knew not how to replie, then would hee fall to touching and toying, stil vewing his graces in no glasse but self-liking. To which, Philocleas shamefastnes, and humblenes, were as strong resisters, as choller, and disdaine. For though she yeelded not, hee thought she was to bee ouercome: and that thought a while stayed him from further violence. But Zelmane had eye to his behauiour, and set in her memorie, vpon the score of Reuenge, while shee her selfe was no lesse attempted by Zoilus; who lesse ful of bragges was forwardest in offering (indeede) dishonourable violence.
But when after their fruitlesse labours they had gone awaye called by their brother, (who began to be perplexed betweene new conceaued desires, and disdaine, to bee disdained) Zelmane (who with most assured quietnesse of iudgement
looked into their present estate) earnestly perswaded the two sisters, that to auoide the mischiefes of prowde outrage they would onely so farre sute their behauiour to their estates, as they might winne time; which as it coulde not bring them to worse case then they were, so it might bring forth inexpected reliefe. And why (said Pamela) shall we any longer flatter aduersity? Why shoulde wee delight to make our selues any longer balls to iniurious Fortune since our owne parents are content to be tyraunts ouer vs, since our own kinne are content traitorously to abuse vs? Certainly, in mishap it may bee some comforte to vs, that wee are lighted in these fellowes handes, who yet will keepe vs from hauing cause of being miserable by our friends meanes. Nothing grieues me more, then that you, noble Ladie Zelmane (to whome the worlde might haue made vs able to doo honour) shoulde receaue onely hurte by the contagion of our miserie. As for me, and my sister, vndoubtedly it becomes our birth to thinke of dying nobly, while we haue done, or suffered nothing, which might make our soule ashamed at the parture from these bodies. Hope is the fawning traitour of the mind, while vnder colour of friendship, it robbes it of his chiefe" force of resolution. Vertuous and faire Ladie (saide Zelmane) what you say is true; and that truth may wel make vp a part in the harmonie of your noble thoughts. But yet the time (which ought alwaies to bee one) is not tuned for it; while that may" bring foorth any good, doo not barre your selfe thereof: for then will bee the time to die nobly, when you can not liue nobly. Then so earnestly shee persuaded with" them both, to referre themselues to their fathers consent (in obtayning wherof they knew some while would bespent) and by that meanes to temper the minds of their prowde woers; that in the ende Pamela yeelded to her, because she spake reason; and Philoclea yeelded to her reason, because she spake it.
And so when they were againe sollicited in that little pleasing petition, Pamela forced her selfe to make answere to Anaxius, that if her father gaue his consent shee would make her selfe belieue, that such was the heauenly determination, since shee had no meanes to auoide it. Anaxius (who was the most franke promiser to him selfe of successe) nothing doubted of Basilius consent, but rather assured him selfe, he would bee his oratour in that matter: And therefore hee chose out an officious seruaunt (whome he esteemed very wise, because hee neuer found him but iust of his opinion) and willed him to be his embassadour to Basilius, and to make him knowe, that if he meant to haue his daughter both safe and happie, and desired himselfe to haue such a sonne in lawe, as woulde not onely protect him in his quiet course, but (if he listed to accept it) would giue him the monarchy of the worlde, that then he should receaue Anaxius, who neuer before knewe what it was to pray any thinge. That if he did not, he would make him know, that the power of Anaxius was in euery thing beyonde his will, and yet his will not to be resisted by any other power. His seruaunt with smiling and caste-vp looke, desired God to make his memorie able to containe the treasure of that wise speach: and therefore besought him to repeate it againe, that by the oftener hearing it, his minde might be the better acquainted with the diuines thereof, and that being gratiously granted, hee then doubted not by carying with him in his conceit, the grace wherewith Anaxius spake it, to persuade rocky minds to their owne harme: so little doubted he to win Basilius to that, which hee thought woulde make him thinke the heauens opened, when he harde but the proffer thereof. Anaxius grauely allowed the probabilitie of his coniecture, and therefore sent him away, promising him hee shoulde haue the bringing vp of his second
sonne by Pamela.
The messenger with speede perfourmed his Lords commaundement to Basilius, who by nature quiet, and by superstition made doubtfull, was lothe to take any matter of armes in hande, wherein already hee had found so slowe successe; though Philanax vehemently vrged him thereunto, making him see that his retiring backe did encourage iniuries. But Basilius betwixt the feare of Anaxius might, the passion of his loue and iealousie of his estate, was so perplexed, that notable to determine, he tooke the common course of men, to flie onely then to deuotion, when they want resolution: therefore detaining the messenger with delaies, hee deferred the directing of his course to the counsell of Apollo, which because himselfe at that time coulde not well go to require, hee entrusted the matter to his best trusted Philanax: who (as one in whom obedience was a sufficient reason vnto him) wente with diligence to Delphos, where being entred into the secrete place of the temple, and hauing performed the sacrifices vsuall, the spirite that possest the prohesying woman, with a sacred fury, attended not his demaund, but as if it would argue him of incredulitie, tolde him, not in darke wonted speeches, but plainely to bee vnderstood, what he came for, and that hee should returne to Basilius, and will him to denie his daughters to Anaxius and his brothers, for that they were reserued for such as were better beloued of the gods. That he should not doubte, for they should returne vnto him safely and speedily. And that he should keepe on his solitary course, til both "Philanax & Basilius fully agreed in the vnderstanding of the former prophecie: withall, commaunding Philanax from thenceforward to giue tribute, but not oblation, to humane wisedome.
"Philanax then finding that reason cannot shewe it selfe more reasonable, then to leaue reasoning in things aboue reason, returnes to his Lorde, and like one that preferred trueth before the maintaining of an opinion, hidde nothing from him, nor from thence foorth durste any more disswade him, from that which he founde by the celestiall prouidence directed; but hee him selfe looking to repayre the gouernment as much as in so broken an estate by ciuill dissention hee might, and fortifying with notable arte, both the lodges, so as they were almost made vnaprochable, hee lefte Basilius to bemone the absence of his daughters, and to bewayle the imprisonment of Zelmane: yet wholly giuen holily to obey the Oracle, he gaue a resolute negatiue vnto the messenger of Anaxius, who all this while had waited for it, yet in good termes desiring him to shewe him selfe, in respect of his birth and profession, so Princely a Knight, as without forcing him to seeke the waye of force, to deliuer in noble sorte those Ladies vnto him, and so should the iniurie haue bene in Amphialus, and the benefite in him.
The messenger went backe with this answere, yet hauing euer vsed to sugre any thing which his Maister was to receaue, he tolde him, that when Basilius first vnderstood his desires, he did ouerreach so farre all his most hopefull expectations, that he thought it were too great a boldnesse to harken to such a man, in whome the heauens had such interest, without asking the Gods counsell, and therefore had sent his principall counsailour to Delphos, who although he kepte the matter neuer so secrete, yet his diligence, inspired by Anaxius priuiledge ouer all worldly thinges, had founde out the secrete, which was, that hee shoulde not presume to marrie his daughters, to one who already was enrolled among the demie-Gods, and yet much lesse he should dare the attempting to take them out of his hands.
Anaxius, who till then had made Fortune his creator, and Force his God, nowe began to finde an other wisedome to be aboue, that iudged so rightly of him: and where in this time of his seruauntes wayting for Basilius resolution, he and his brothers had courted their Ladies, as whome they vouchsafed to haue for their wiues, he resolued now to dally no longer in delayes, but to make violence his Oratour, since hee had found persuasions had gotten nothing but answeres. Which intention he opened to his brothers, who hauing all this while wanted nothing to take that way, but his authoritie, gaue spurres to his running, and, vnworthy men, neither feeling vertue in themselues, nor tendring it in others, they were headlong to make that euill consort of loue and force, when Anaxius had worde, that from the Tower there were descried some companies of armed men, marching towards the towne; wherefore he gaue present order to his seruauntes, and souldiers, to goe to the gates and walles, leauing none within but himselfe, and his brothers: his thoughts then so full of their intended pray, that Mars-his lowdest trumpet could scarcely haue awaked him.
But while he was directing what he would haue done, his yongest brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission, went in the name of Anaxius, to tell the sisters, that since he had answere from their father, that he and his brother Licurgus, should haue them in what sort it pleased them, that they would now graunt them no longer time, but presently to determine, whether they thought it more honorable comfort to be compelled, or perswaded. Pamela made him answere, that in a matter whereon the whole state of her life depended, and wherein she had euer answered, she would not lead, but follow her parents pleasure; she thought it reason she should, either by letter, or particular messenger vnderstand somthing from thē
selues, & not haue her beleef bound to the report of their partiall seruant, and therfore, as to their words, she & her sister, had euer a simple & true resolution, so against their vniust force, God, they hoped, would either arme their liues, or take away their liues. Well Ladies (said he) I will leaue my brothers, who by and by will come vnto you, to be their owne embassadors, for my part, I must now do my selfe seruice. And with that turning vp his mustachoes, and marching as if he would begin a pauen,
•
e went toward Zelmane. But Zelmane (hauing had all this while of the messengers being with Basilius, much to do to keepe those excellent Ladies from seeking by the pasport of death, to escape those base dangers wherevnto they found themselues subiect) still hoping that Musidorus would finde some meanes to deliuer thē; and therefore had often both by her owne example, and comfortable reasons, perswaded them to ouerpasse many insolent indignities of their proud suters, who thought it was a sufficient fauour not to do the vttermost iniurie, now come againe to the streight she most feared for them, either of death or dishonor, if heroicall courage would haue let her, she had bene beyonde herselfe amazed: but that yet held vp her wit, to attend the vttermost occasion, which euen then brought his hairie forehead vnto her: for Zoilus smacking his lippes, as for the Prologue of a kisse, and something aduancing himselfe, Darling (said he) let thy hart be full of ioy, and let thy faire eies be of counsell with it, for this day thou shalt haue Zoilus, whom many haue lōged for; but none shall haue him, but Zelmane. And oh, how much glory I haue to think what a race wil be betwne vs. The world, by the heauēs, the world will be too little for them: And with that, he would haue put his arme about her necke, but she, withdrawing her selfe from him, My Lord (said she)
much good may your thoughts do you, but that I may not dissemble with you, my natiuitie being cast by one that neuer failed in any of his prognostications, I haue bene assured, that I should neuer be apt to beare children. But since you will honor me with so hie fauor, I must onely desire that I may performe a vow which I made among my countriwomen, the famous Amazons, that I would neuer marrie none, but such one as was able to withstand me in Armes: therefore, before I make mine owne desire seruiceable to yours, you must vouchsafe to lend me armor and weapons, that at least, with a blow or two of the sword, I may not finde my selfe periured to my selfe. But Zoilus (but laughing with a hartie lowdnes) went by force to embrace her; making no other answere, but since she had a mind to trie his Knighthood, she should quickly know what a man of armes he was: and so, without reuerence to the Ladies, began to struggle with her.
But in Zelmane then Disdaine became wisdome, and Anger gaue occasion. For abiding no longer aboad in the matter, she that had not put off, though she had disguised, Pyrocles, being farre fuller of strong nimblenes, tript vp his feete, so that he fell downe at hers. And withall (meaning to pursue what she had begun) puld out his sword, which he ware about him: but before she could strike him withall, he gat vp, and ranne to a faire chamber, where he had left his two brethren, preparing themselues to come downe to their mistresses. But she followed at his heeles, and euen as he came to throw himselfe into their armes for succor, she hit him with his owne sword, such a blow vpon the waste, that she almost cut him asunder: once, she sundred his soule from his body, sending it to Proserpina, an angry Goddesse against rauishers. But Anaxius, seing before his eyes the miserable end of his brother, fuller of despite then wrath, and yet fuller of wrath then sorow, looking with a wofull eye vpon his brother Lycurgus, Brother, said he, chastice this vile creature, while I go downe, and take order lest further mischiefe arise: and so went downe to the Ladies, whom he visited, doubting there had bene some further practise then yet he conceiued. But finding them only strong in pacience, he went and lockt a great Iron gate, by which onely any body might mount to that part of the Castle, rather to conceale the shame of his brother, slaine by a woman, then for doubt of any other anoyance, and then went vp to receaue some comfort of the execution, he was sure his brother had done of Zelmane. But Zelmane no sooner saw those brothers, of whom Reason assured her she was to expect reuenge, but that she lept to a target, "as one that well knew the first marke of valure to be defence. And then accepting the oportunitie of Anaxius going away, she waited not the pleasure of Lycurgus, but without any words (which she euer thought vaine, when resolution tooke the place of perswasion) gaue her owne hart the contentment to be the assailer. Lycurgus, who was in the disposition of his nature hazardouse, and by the luckie passing through many dangers, growne confident in himselfe, went toward her, rather as to a spoile, then to fight, so farre from feare, that his assurednesse disdained to hope. But when her sword made demonstrations aboue all flattery of arguments, and that he found she prest so vpon him, as shewed that her courage sprang not from blinde despaire, but was garded both with cunning and strength: self-loue then first in him diuided it selfe from vain-glory, and made him finde that the world of worthines had not this whole globe comprised in his brest, but that it was necessarie to haue strong resistance against so strong assailing. And so between them, for a fewe blowes, Mars himselfe might haue bin delighted to looke on. But Zelmane,
who knew that in her case, slownesse of victory was little better then ruine, with the bellowes of hate, blew the fire of courage, and he striking a maine blow at her head, she warded it with the shield, but so warded, that the shield was cut in two pieces, while it protected her, and withal she ran in to him, and thrusting at his brest, which he put by with his target, as he was lifting vp his sword to strike againe, she let fall the piece of her shield, and with her left hand catching his sword of the inside of the pommell, with nimble and strong sleight, she had gotten his sword out of his hand before his sence could conuey to his imagination, what was to be doubted. And hauing now two swords against one shield, meaning not foolishly to be vngratefull to good fortune, while he was no more amazed with his being vnweapned, then with the suddainnes therof, she gaue him such a wound vpon his head, in despite of the shields ouer-weake resistāce, that withall he fell to the ground, astonished with the paine, & agast with feare. But seing Zelmane ready to conclude her victory in his death, bowing vp his head to her, with a countenance that had forgotten all pride, Enough excellent Lady, said he, the honor is yours: Wherof you shal want the best witnes, if you kil me. As you haue taken from men the glory of manhood, returne so now againe to your owne sex, for mercy. I will redeeme my life of you with no small seruices, for I will vndertake to make my brother obey all your commādements. Grant life I beseech you, for your own honor, and for the persons sake that you loue best. Zelmane represt a while her great hart, either disdaining to be cruell, or pitiful, & therfore not cruel: & now the image of humane condition, begā to be an Orator vnto her of compassiō, whē she saw, as he lifted vp his armes with a suppliāts grace, about one of thē, vnhappily tied, a garter with a Iewel, which (giuē to Pyrocles by his aunt of Thessalia, & greatly esteemed by him) he had presented to
Philoclea, & with inward rage promising extreame hatred, had seene Lycurgus with a proud force, & not without some hurt vnto her, pull away from Philoclea, because at entreatie she would not giue it him. But the sight of that was like a cyphar, signifying all the iniuries which Philoclea had of him suffred, & that remēbrāce feeding vpō wrath, trod down al cōceits of mercy. And therfore saying no more, but No villain, dye: It is Philoclea that sends thee this token for thy loue. With that she made her sword drink the blood of his hart, though he wresting his body, & with a countenance prepared to excuse, wold faine haue delaied the receiuing of deaths embassadors. But neither that staied Zelmanes hand, nor yet Anaxius crie vnto her, who hauing made fast the iron gate, euen then came to the top of the staires, when, contrarie to all his imaginations, he saw his brother lye at Zelmanes mercie. Therefore crying, promising, and threatning to her to hold her hand: the last grone of his brother was the onely answere he could get to his vnrespected eloquence. But then Pittie would faine haue drawne teares, which Furie in their spring dried; and Anger would faine haue spoken, but that Disdaine sealed vp his lippes; but in his heart he blasphemed heauen, that it could haue such a power ouer him; no lesse ashamed of the victorie he should haue of her, then of his brothers ouerthrow: and no more spited, that it was yet vnreuenged, then that the reuenge should be no greater, then a womans destruction. Therefore with no speach, but such a groning crie, as often is the language of sorowfull anger, he came running at Zelmane, vse of fighting then seruing in steed of patient consideration what to do. Guided wherewith, though he did not with knowledge, yet did he according to knowledge, pressing vpon Zelmane in such a well defended manner, that in all the combats that euer
she had fought, she had neuer more neede of quicke senses, and ready vertue. For being one of the greatest men of stature then liuing, as he did fully answere that stature in greatnesse of might, so did he exceede both in greatnes of courage, which with a countenance formed by the nature both of his mind and body, to an almost horrible fiercenes, was able to haue carried feare to any minde, that was not priuie to it selfe of a true and constant worthines. But Pyrocles, whose soule might well be separated from his body, but neuer alienated from the remembring what was comely, if at the first he did a little apprehend the dangerousnes of his aduersarie, whom once before he had something tried, and now perfectly sawe, as the very picture of forcible furie: yet was that apprehension quickly stayed in him, rather strengthning, then weakning his vertue by that wrestling; like wine, growing the stronger by being moued. So that they both, prepared in harts, and able in hands, did honor solitarines there with such a combat, as might haue demaunded, as a right of fortune, whole armies of beholders. But no beholders needed there, where manhood blew the trumpet, and satisfaction did whet, as much as glorie. There was strength against nimblenes; rage, against resolution; fury, against vertue; confidence, against courage; pride, against noblenesse: loue, in both, breeding mutuall hatred, and desire of reuenging the iniurie of his brothers slaughter, to Anaxius, being like Philocleas captiuity to Pyrocles. Who had seene the one, would haue thought nothing could haue resisted; who had marked the other, would haue marueiled that the other had so long resisted. But like two contrarie tides, either of which are able to carry worlds of shippes, and men vpon them, with such swiftnes, as nothing seemes able to withstand them: yet meeting one another, with mingling their watrie forces, and strugling together, it is long to say whether streame gets the victorie: So betweene these, if Pallas had bene there, she could scarcely haue tolde, whether she had nurced better in the feates of armes. The Irish greyhound, against the English mastiffe; the sword-fish, against the whale; the Rhinoceros, against the elephant, might be models, and but models of this combat. Anaxius was better armed defensiuely: for (beside a strong caske brauely couered, wherewith he couered his head) he had a huge shield, such perchance, as Achilles
shewed to the pale walles of Troy, wherewithall that great body was couered. But Pyrocles, vtterly vnarmed for defence, to offend had the aduantage: for, in either hand he had a sword, and with both handes nimbly performed that office. And according as they were diuersly furnished, so did they differ in the manner of fighting. For Anaxius most by warding, and Pyrocles oftnest by auoyding, resisted the aduersaries assault. Both hastie to end, yet both often staying for aduantage. Time, distance, and motion, custom made them so perfect in, that as if they had bene felow Counsellers, and not enemies, each knew the others minde, and knewe how to preuent it. So as their strength fayled them sooner then their skill, and yet their breath fayled them sooner then their strength. And breathles indeed they grew, before either could complaine of any losse of bloud.
So that consenting by the mediation of necessitie, to a breathing time of truce, being withdrawen a little one frō the other; Anaxius stood leaning vpon his sword, with his grim eye, so setled vpon Zelmane, as is wont to be the looke of an earnest thought. Which Zelmane marking, and, according to the Pyroclean nature, fuller of gay brauerie in the midst, then in the beginning of danger; What is it (said she) Anaxius, that thou so deeply musest on? Dooth thy brothers example make thee
thinke of thy fault past, or of thy comming punishment? I thinke (said he) what spitefull God it should be, who, enuying my glory, hath brought me to such a wayward case, that neither thy death can be a reuenge, nor thy ouerthrow a victorie. Thou doost well indeed (said Zelmane) to impute thy case to the heauenly prouidence, which will haue thy pride finde it selfe (euen in that whereof thou art most proud) punished by the weake sex, which thou most contemnest.
But then, hauing sufficiently rested themselues, they renewed againe their combatte, farre more terribly then before: like nimble vaulters, who at the first and second leape, doo but stirre, and (as it were) awake the fierie and aërie partes, which after in the other leapes, they doo with more excellencie exercise. For in this pausing, ech had brought to his thoughts the maner of the others fighting, and the aduantages, which by that, and by the qualitie of their weapons, they might worke themselues; and so againe repeated the lesson they had said before, more perfectly, by the vsing of it. Anaxius oftner vsed blowes, his huge force (as it were) more delighting therein, and the large protection of his shield, animating him vnto it. Pyrocles, of a more fine, and deliuer strength, watching his time when to giue fitte thrustes; as, with the quick obeying of his bodie, to his eyes quicke commaundement, he shunned any harme Anaxius could do to him: so would he soone haue made an end of Anaxius, if he had not found him a man of wonderfull, and almost matchlesse excellency in matters of armes. Pyrocles vsed diuers faynings to bring Anaxius on, into some inconuenience. But Anaxius keeping a sound maner of fighting, neuer offered, but seeing faire cause, and then followed it with wel-gouerned violence. Thus spent they a great time, striuing to doo, and with striuing to doo, wearying themselues, more then with the very doing. Anaxius finding Zelmane so neere vnto him, that with little motion he might reach her, knitting all his strength together, at that time mainly foyned at her face. But Zelmane strongly putting it by with her right hand sword, comming in with her left foote, and hand, would haue giuen a sharpe visitation to his right side, but that he was faine to leape awaye. Whereat ashamed, (as hauing neuer done so much before in his life.)
How this combate ended, how the Ladies by the comming of the discouered forces were deliuered, and restored to Basilius, and how Dorus againe returned to his old master Damaetas, is altogether vnknowne. What a
•
terward chaunced, out of the Authors owne writings and conceits hath bene supplied, as foloweth.
AFter that Basilius (according to the oracles promise) had receiued home his daughters, and settled himselfe againe in his solitary course and accustomed company, there passed not many dayes ere the now fully recomforted Dorus hauing waited a time of Zelmanes walking alone towards her little Arbor, tooke leaue of his master Damaetas husbandry to follow her. Neere whervnto ouertaking her, and sitting downe together among the sweet flowers whereof that place was very plentifull, vnder the pleasant shade of a broad leaued Sycamor, they recounted one to another their strange pilgrimage of passions, omitting nothing which the open harted frendship is wont to lay forth, where there is cause to cōmunicate both ioyes & sorows, for indeed ther is no sweeter tast of frendship, then the coupling of soules in this mutualitie either of condoling or comforting: where the oppressed minde findes itself not altogether miserable, since it is sure of one which is feelingly sory for his misery: and the ioyfull spends not his ioy, either alone, or there where
it may be enuyed: but may freely send it to such a well grounded obiect, from whence he shall be sure to receiue a sweete reflection of the same ioye, and, as in a cleere mirror of sincere good will, see a liuely picture of his owne gladnes. But after much discourse on eyther parte, Dorus (his hearte scarce seruing him to come to the pointe, wherevnto his then comming had bene wholie directed, as loth in the kindest sorte to discouer to his friend his owne vnkindnes) at length, one word emboldening another made knowne to Zelmane, how Pamela vpon his vehement othe to offer no force vnto her, till hee had inuested her in the Duchie of Thessalia, had condiscended to his stealing her awaie to the next sea porte. That besides the straunge humors she sawe her father more and more falling into, and vnreasonable restraint of her libertie, whereof she knewe no cause but light grounded iealosies, added to the hate of that manner of life, and confidence she had in his vertue, the chiefest reason had wonne her to this, was the late daunger she stoode in of loosing him, the like whereof (not vnlike to fall if this course were continued) she chose rather to dye then againe to vndergoe. That now they wayted for nothing else, but some fit time for their escape, by the absence of their three lothsome companions, in whome follie ingendred suspicion. And therefore now, sayd Dorus, my deere Cozen, to whome nature began my friendship, education confirmed it, and vertue hath made it eternall, heere haue I discoue
•
ed the very foundacion wherevpon my life is built: bee you the Iudge betwixt mee a
•
d my fortune. The violence of loue is not vnknowne to you: And I knowe m
•
case shall neuer want pittie in your consideration. How all the ioyes of my hearte doo leaue mee, in thinking I must for a time be absent from you, the eternall truth is witnesse vnto mee, I knowe I should not so sensiblie feele the pangs of my last departure. But this enchantment of my restlesse desire hath such authoritye in my selfe aboue my selfe, that I am become a slaue vnto it, I haue no more freedome in mine owne determinacions. My thoughtes are now all bent how to carrie awaie my burdenous blisse. Yet, most beloued Cozen, rather then I should thinke I doo heerein violate that holie bande of true friendship, wherein I vnworthie am knit vnto you, commaund mee stay. Perchaunce the force of your commaundement may worke such impression into my hearte, that no reason of mine owne can imprint into it. For the Gods forbid, the foule word of abandoning Pyrocles, might euer be obiected to the faithfull Musidorus. But if you can spare my presence, whose presence no way serues you, and by the diuision of these two Lodges is not oft with you: nay if you can thinke my absence may, as it shall, stand you in stead, by bringing such an armye hither, as shall make Basilius, willing or vnwilling, to knowe his owne happe in graunting you Philoclea: then I will cheerefullie goe about this my most desired enterprise, and shall thinke the better halfe of it alreadie atchieued, beeing begunne in the fortunate houre of my friendes contentment. These wordes, as they were not knitte together with such a constant course of flowing eloquence, as Dorus was woont to vse: so was his voice interrupted with sighes, and his countenaunce with enterchanging coulour dismayed. So much his owne hearte did finde him faultie to vnbende any way the continuall vse of theyr deare friendshippe. But Zelmane, who had all this while gladlie hearkened to the other tydings of her friends happye successe, when this last determination of Dorus strake her attentiue eares, she stayed a great while oppressed with a dead amazement.
Ther came streight before her mind, made tender with woes, the images of her own fortune. Her tedious longings, her causes to despaire, the combersome follie of Basilius, the enraged Iealousie of Gynecia, her selfe a Prince without retinewe; a man annoyed with the troubles of woman-kinde; lothsomely loued, and daungerouslie louing; And now for the perfecting of all, her friend to be taken away by himself, to make the losse the greater by the vnkindnes. But within a while she resolutely passed ouer all in warde obiections, and preferring her friends proffitt to her owne desire, with a quiet but hartie looke, she thus aunsweared him. If I bare thee this Loue vertuous Musidorus, for mine owne sake, and that our friendshipp grew because I for my parte, might reioyce to enioye such a friend: I shoulde nowe so thorowly feele mine owne losse, that I should call the heauens and earth to witnesse, howe cruelly yee robbe mee, of my greatest comforte, measuring the breach of friendshippe by myne owne passion. But because indeede I loue thee for thy selfe, and in my iudgement iudge of thy worthines to beloued, I am content to builde my pleasure vppon thy comforte: And then will I deeme my happe in friendshippe great, when I shall see thee, whome I loue happie. Let me be onely sure, thou louest me still, the onely price of trew affection goe therefore on, worthye Musidorus, with the guide of vertue, and seruice of fortune. Let thy loue be loued, thy desires prosperous, thy escape safe, and thy iornye easie. Let euery thing yeeld his helpe to thy deserte, for my part absence shall not take thee from mine eyes, nor afflictions shall barre mee from gladding in thy good, nor a possessed harte shall keepe thee from the place it ha
•
h for euer allotted vnto thee. Dorus would faine haue replied againe, to haue made a liberall confession that Zelmane had of her side the aduantage of well performing friendshippe: but partelie his owne griefe of parting from one he loued so dearely, partly the kinde care in what state hee shoulde leaue Zelmane, bredd such a conflicte in his minde, that many times he wished, he had either neuer attempted, or neuer reuealed this secreat enterprise. But Zelmane, who had now looked to the vttermoste of it, and established her minde vpon an assured determination, my onely friend said shee since to so good towardnes, your courteous destinies haue conducted you, let not a ceremoniall consideration of our mutuall loue, be a barre vnto it. I ioye in your presence, but I ioye more in your good, that friendshipp brings foorth the fruites of enmitie, which preferres his owne tendernes, before his friendes domage. For my parte my greatest griefe herein shalbe, I can bee no further seruiceable vnto you O Zelmane saide Dorus with his eyes euen couered with water, I did not think so soone to haue displayed my determination vnto you, but to haue made my way first in your louing iudgement. But alas as your sweet disposition drew me so farre: so doth it now strengthen me in it. To you therefore be the due commendation giuen, who can conquere me in Loue, and Loue in wisedome. As for mee, then shall goodnes turne to euill, and vngratefulnes bee the token of a true harte when Pyrocles shall not possesse a principall seate in my soule, when the name of Pyrocles shall not be helde of me in deuout reuerence.
They would neuer haue come to the cruell instant of parting, nor to the il-faring word of farewell, had not Zelmane sene a farre off the olde Basilius, who hauing perfourmed a sacrifice to Apollo, for his daughters, but principally for his mistresse happy returne, had since bene euery where to seeke her. And nowe being come within compasse of discerning her, he beganne to frame the loueliest coūtenance he could, stroking vp his legges, setting his bearde in due order, and standing bolte vpright.
Alas said Zelmane, behold an euill fore-token of your sorrowfull departure. Yonder see I one of my furies, which doth daylie vexe me, farewell fare wel my Musidorus, the Gods make fortune to waite on thy vertues, and make mee wade through this lake of wretchednes. Dorus burst out into a floud of teares wringing her fast by the hande. No, no, said he, I go blindfold, whither the course of my ill happe caries me: for now too late my harte giues me this our separating can neuer be prosperous. But if I liue, attend me here shortly with an army. Thus both appalled with the grieuous renting of their long Combination, (hauing first resolued with thēselues that, whatsoeuer fell vnto them, they should neuer vpon no occasion vtter their names for the cōseruing the honour of their Royal parentage, but keep the names of Daiphantus &
Palladius, as before had ben agreed between thē) they tooke diuerse waies: Dorus to the lodg-ward, wher his heauy eyes might be somthing refreshed; Zelmane towards Basilius: saying to her selfe with a skornefull smiling: yet hath not my friendly fortune depriued me of a pleasant companion. But he hauing with much searche come to her presence, Doubt & Desire bred a great quarrel in his mind. For his former experience had taught him to doubt: & true feeling of Loue made doubts daungerous, but the working of his desire had ere long wonne the fielde. And therefore with the most submissiue maner his behauiour could yeeld: O Goddesse, said hee towardes whom I haue the greatest feeling of Religion, be not displeased at some shew of deuotion I haue made to Apollo: since he (if he know any thing) knowes that my harte beares farre more awful reuerēce to your self then to his, or any other the like Deity. You wil euer be deceaued in me, answered Zelmane: I wil make my selfe no competitor with Apollo, neither can blasphemies to him be duties to me. With that Basilius tooke out of his bosome certaine verses he had written, and kneling downe, presented them to her. They contained this:
PHaebus farewell, a sweeter Saint I serue,
The high conceits thy heau'nly wisedomes breed
My thoughts forget: my thoughts, which neuer swerue
From her, in whome is sowne their freedomes seede,
And in whose eyes my dayly doome I reede.
Phaebus farewell, a sweeter Saint I serue.
Thou art farre off, thy kingdome is aboue:
She heau'n on earth with beauties doth preserue.
Thy beames I like, but her cleare rayes I loue:
Thy force I feare, her force I still do proue.
Phaebus yeelde vp thy title in my minde.
She doth possesse, thy Image is defaste,
But if thy rage some braue reuenge will finde,
On her, who hath in me thy temple raste,
Employ thy might, that she my fires may taste.
And how much more her worth surmounteth thee,
Make her as much more base by louing me.
This is my Hymne to you, said he, not left me by my auncestors, but begone in my selfe. The temple wherin it is daylie songe, is my soule: and the sacrifice I offer to you withall is all whatsoeuer I am. Zelmane, who euer thought shee founde in his
speeches the ill taste of a medecine, and the operation of a poyson, would haue suffred a disdainful looke to haue bene the onely witnesse of her good acceptation; but that Basilius began a fresh to lay before her many pittifull prayers, and in the ende to conclude that he was fully of opinion it was onely the vnfortunatenes of that place that hindered the prosperous course of his desires. And therefore since the hatefull influence; which made him embrace this solitary life, was now past ouer him (as he doubted not the iudgment of Philanax would agree with his) and his late mishapes had taught him how perillous it was to commit a Princes state to a place so weakely guarded: He was now enclined to returne to his pallace in Mantinea, and there he hoped he should be beter able to shew how much he desired to make al he had hers: with many other such honnie wordes which my penne growes almost weary to set downe: This indeede neerely pierced Zelmane. For the good beginning shee had there obtained of Philoclea made her desire to continue the same trade, till vnto the more perfecting of her desires: and to come to any publike place
•
hee did deadly feare, lest her maske by many eyes might the sooner be discouered, and so her hopes stopped, and the state of her ioyes endaungered. Therefore while shee rested, musing at the dayly chaunging labyrinth of her owne fortune, but in her selfe determined it was her onely best to keepe him there: and with fauors to make him loue the place, where the fauors were receiued, as disgraces had made him apte to chaunge the Soyle.
Therefore casting a kinde of corner looke vpon him, it is truely saide, (saide she) that age cooleth the bloud. Howe soone goodman you are terrified before you receaue any hurte? Doe you not knowe that daintines is kindly vnto vs? And that hard obtayning, is the excuse of womans graunting? Yet speake I not as though you were like to obtaine, or I to graūt. But because I would not haue you imagin, I am to be wonne by courtely vanities, or esteeme a man the more, because he hath handsome men to waite of him, when he is affraid to liue without them. You might haue seene Basilius humbly swell, and with a lowly looke stand vpon his tiptoes; such diuersitie her words deliuered vnto him. O Hercules aunswered he; Basilius afraide? Or his bloud cold, that boyles in such a fournace? Care I who is with mee, while I enioy your presence? Or is any place good or bad to me, but as it pleaseth you to blesse or curse it? O let me be but armed in your good grace, and I defie whatsoeuer there is or can be against mee. No, no, your loue is forcible, and my age is not without vigoure. Zelmane thought it not good for his stomacke, to receaue a surfet of too much fauoure, and therefore thinking he had enough for the time, to keepe him from any sodaine remouing, with a certaine gracious bowing downe of her heade towarde him, she turned away, saying, she would leaue him at this time to see how temperately hee could vse so bountifull a measure, of her kindenes. Basilius that thought euery dropp a flood that bred any refreshment, durst not further presse her, but with an ancient modestie left her to the sweete repast of her owne fancies. Zelmane assoone as he was departed went towarde Pamelas lodge in hope to haue seene her friende Dorus, to haue pleased her selfe with another paynefull farrewell, and further to haue taken some aduise with him touching her owne estate, whereof before sorowe had not suffered her to thinke. But being come euen neere the lodge, she saw the mouth of a caue, made as it should seeme by nature in despite of Arte: so fitly did the riche growing marble serue to beautifie the vawt of the first entrie. vnderfoot, the ground semed mynerall, yeelding such a glistering shewe of golde in it, as they say the ryuer
Tagus caries in his sandie bed. The caue framed out into many goodly spatious Roomes such as the selfe-liking men, haue with long and learned delicacie founde out the most easefull. There rann through it a little sweete Riuer, which had lefte the face of the earth to drowne her selfe for a smale waye in this darke but pleasant mansion. The very first shewe of the place entised the melancholy minde of Zelmane
to yeelde her selfe ouer there to the flood of her owne thoughtes. And therefore sitting downe in the first entrie, of the Caues mouth, with a song shee had lately made, shee gaue a dolefull waye to her bitter Affectes, shee sunge to this effecte:
SInce that the stormy rage of passions darcke
(Of passions darke, made darke of beauties light)
Whith rebell force, hath closde in dungeon darke
My minde ere now led foorth by reasons light:
Since all the thinges which giue mine eyes their light
Do foster still, the fruites of fancies darke:
So that the windowes of my inward light
Do serue, to make my inward powers darke:
Since, as I say, both minde and sences darke
Are hurt, not helpt, with piercing of the light:
While that the light may shewe the horrors darke
But cannot make resolued darkenes lighte:
I like this place, whereat the least the darke
May keepe my thoughtes, from thought of wonted light.
In steede of an instrument, her song was accompanied with the wringing of her hands, the closing of her weary eyes, and euen sometime cut off with the swellinge of hir sighes, which did not suffer the voice to haue his free and natiue passage. But as she was a while musing vpon her songe, raising vp her spirites, which were something falne into the weakenes of lamentation, considering solitary complaints do no good to him whose helpe stands with out himselfe, shee might a far off, first heare a whispering sounde which seemed to come from the inmost parte of the Caue, and being kept together with the close hollownes of the place, had as in a Truncke the more liberall accesse to her eares, and by and by she might perceaue the same voice, deliuer it selfe into musicall tunes, and with a base Lyra giue foorth this songe:
HArke plaintfull ghostes, infernall furies harke
Vnto my woes the hatefull heauens do sende,
The heauens conspir'd, to make my vitall sparke
A wreched wracke, a glasse of Ruines ende.
Seeing, Alas; so mightie powers bende
Their ireful shotte against so weake a marke,
Come caue, become my graue, come death, and lende
Receipte to me, within thy bosome darke.
For what is life to dayly dieng minde,
Where drawing breath, I sucke the aire of woe:
Where too much sight, makes all the bodie blinde,
And highest thoughts, downeward most headlong throw?
Thus then my forme, and thus my state I finde,
Death wrapt in flesh, to liuing graue assign'd.
And pawsing but a little, with monefull melodie it continued this octaue:
Like those sicke folkes, in whome strange humors flowe,
Can taste no sweetes, the sower onely please:
So to my minde, while passions daylie growe,
Whose fyrie chaines, vppon his freedome feaze,
Ioies strangers seeme, I cannot bide their showe,
Nor brooke oughte els but well acquainted woe.
Bitter griefe tastes me best paine is my ease,
Sicke to the death, still louing my disease.
O Venus, saide Zelmane, who is this so well acquainted with mee, that can make so liuely a portracture of my miseries? It is surely the spirit appointed to haue care of me, which doth now in this darke place beare parte with the complaints of his vnhappie charge. For if it be so, that the heauens haue at all times a measure of their wrathefull harmes, surely so many haue come to my blistlesse lot, that the rest of the world hath too small a portion, to make with cause so wailefull a lamentation. But saide she; whatsoeuer thou be, I will seeke thee out, for thy musique well assures me wee are at least-hand fellowe prentises to one vngracious master. So raise shee and went guiding her selfe, by the still playning voice, till she sawe vppon a stone a little waxe light set, and vnder it a piece of paper with these verses verie lately (as it should seeme) written in it:
HOwe is my Sunn, whose beames are shining bright
Become the cause of my darke ouglie night?
Or howe do I captiu'd in this darke plight,
Bewaile the case, and in the cause delight?
My mangled mind huge horrors still doe fright,
With sense possest, and claim'd by reasons right:
Betwixt which two in me I haue this fight,
Wher who so wynns, I put my selfe to flight.
Come clowdie feares close vp my daseled sight,
Sorrowes suck vp the marowe of my might,
Due sighes blowe out all sparkes of ioyfull light,
Tyre on despaier vppon my tyred sprite.
An ende, an ende, my dulde penn cannot write,
Nor mas'de head thinke, nor faltring tongerecite.
And hard vnderneath the sonnet, were these wordes written:
This caue is darke, but it had neuer light.
This waxe doth waste it selfe, yet painelesse dyes.
These wordes are full of woes, yet feele they none.
I darkned am, who once had clearest sight.
I waste my harte, which still newe torment tryes.
I plaine with cause, my woes are all myne owne,
No caue, no wasting waxe, no wordes of griefe,
Can holde, shew, tell, my paines without reliefe.
She did not long stay to reade the wordes, for not farre off from the stone shee might discerne in a darke corner, a Ladie lieng with her face so prostrate vpon the ground, as she could neither know, nor be knowen. But (as the generall nature of man is desirous of knowledge, and sorrow especially glad to find fellowes,) she went as softely as she could conuey her foot, neere vnto her, where she heard these words come with vehement sobbings from her. O darkenes (saide shee) which doest light somly (me thinks) make me see the picture of my inward darknes: since I haue chosen thee, to be the secret witnesse of my sorows, let me receiue a safe receipte in thee; and esteeme them not tedious, but if it be possible, let the vttering them be some discharge to my ouerloaden breast. Alas sorrowe, nowe thou hast the full sack of my conquered spirits, rest thy selfe a while, and set not stil new fire to thy owne spoiles: O accursed reason, how many eyes thou hast to see thy euills, and thou dimme, nay blinde thou arte in preuenting them? Forlorne creature that I am! I would I might be freely wicked, since wickednesse doth preuaile, but the foote steppes of my ouer-troden vertue, lie still as bitter accusations vnto me: I am deuided in my selfe, howe can I stande? I am ouerthrowne in my selfe, who shall raise mee? Vice is but a nurse of new agonies, and the vertue I am diuorsed from, makes the hatefull comparison the more manyfest. No, no vertue, either I neuer had but a shadow of thee, or thou thy selfe, art but a shadow. For how is my soule abandoned? How are all my powers laide waste? My desire is payned, because it cannot hope, and if hope came, his best shoulde bee but mischiefe. O strange mixture of humaine mindes! onely so much good lefte, as to make vs languish in our owne euills. Yee infernall furies, (for it is too late for mee, to awake my dead vertue, or to place my comforte in the angrie Gods) yee infernall furies I say, aide one that dedicates her selfe vnto you, let my rage bee satisfied, since the effecte of it is fit for your seruice. Neither bee afraide to make me too happie, since nothing can come to appease the smart of my guiltie cōscience. I desire but to asswage the sweltring of my hellish longing, deiected Gynecia. Zelmane, no sooner heard the name of Gynecia, but that with a colde sweate all ouer her, as if she had ben ready to treade vpon a deadly stinging Adder, she would haue withdrawne her selfe, but her owne passion made her yeelde more vnquiet motions, then she had done in comming. So that she was perceaued, & Gynecia sodainely
risne vp, for in deed it was Ginecia, gotten into this Caue, (the same Caue, wherein Dametas had safelie kept Pamela in the late vprore) to passe her pangs, with change of places. And as her minde ranne still vpon Zelmane, her piercing louers eye had soone found it was she. And seeing in her a countenance to flye away, she fell downe at her feete, and catching fast hold of her: Alas, sayd she, whether, or from whome doost thou flye awaye? the sauagest beastes are wonne with seruice, and there is no flint but may be mollifyed: How is Gynecia so vnworthie in thine eyes? or whome cannot aboundance of loue, make worthie? O thinke not that crueltie, or vngratefulnes, can flowe from a good minde! O weigh, Alas! weigh with thy selfe, the newe effectes of this mightie passion, that I vnfit for my state, vncomely for my sexe, must become a suppliant at thy feete! By the happie woman that bare thee, by all the ioyes of thy hart, and successe of thy desire, I beseech thee turne thy selfe to some consideration of me; and rather shew pittie in now helping me, then into late repenting my death which hourely threatens me. Zelmane imputing it, to one of her continuall mishaps, thus to haue met with this Lady, with a full weary countenance; Without doubt Madame, said she, where the desire is such, as may be obtained, and the partie well deseruing as your selfe, it must be a great excuse that may well cullour a deniall; but when the first motion carries with it a direct impossibilitie, then must the only answere be, comfort without helpe, and sorrow to both parties; to you not obtaining to me not able to graunt. O sayd Gynecia, how good leisure you haue to frame these scornefull answeres? Is Ginecia thus to be despised? am I so vile a worme in your sight? no no, trust to it hard harted tigre, I will not be the only Actor of this Tragedy: since I must fall, I will presse downe some others with my ruines: since I must burne, my spitefull neighbors shall feele of my fire. Doest thou not perceaue that my diligent eyes haue pierced through the clowdie maske of thy desguisemēt? Haue I not told thee, ô foole, (if I were not much more foole) that I know thou wouldest abuse vs with thy outward shew? Wilt thou still attend the rage of loue in a womans hart? the girle thy well chosen mistresse, perchaunce shall defend thee, when Basilius shal know how thou hast sotted his minde with falsehood, and falsely sought the dishonour of his house. Beleeue it, beleeue it vnkind creature, I will end my miseries with a notable example of reuenge, and that accursed cradle of mine shal feele the smart of my wound, thou of thy tiranny, and lastly (I confesse) my selfe of mine owne work. Zelmane that had long before doubted her selfe to be discouered by her, and now plainely finding it, was as the prouerbe saith, like them that hold the wolfe by the eares, bitten while they hold, and slaine if they loose. If she held her off in these wonted termes, she sawe rage would make her loue worke the effects of hate; to graunt vnto her, her hart was so bounde vpon Philoclea, it had ben worse then a thousand deaths. Yet found she it was necessarie for her, to come to a resolution, for Gynecias sore could bide no leasure, and once discouered, besides the dāger of Philoclea, her desires should be for euer vtterly stopped. She remēbred withall the words of Basilius, how apt he was to leaue this life, & returne to his court, a great barre to her hopes. Lastly she considered Dorus enterprise, might bring some strange alteration of this their well liked fellowship. So that encompassed with these instant difficulties, she bent her spirits to thinke of a remedie, which might at once both saue her from them, and serue her to the accomplishment of her only pursuite. Lastly, she determined thus, that there was no way but to yeeld to the violence of their desires, since striuing did the more chafe them.
And that following their owne current, at length of it selfe it would bring her to the other side of her burning desires.
Now in the meane while the diuided Dorus, long diuided betwene loue and frendship, and now for his loue diuided frō his frend, though indeed without preiudice of frendships loyaltie, which doth neuer barre the minde from his free satisfaction: yet still a cruell iudge ouer himselfe, thought he was somewayes faultie, and applied his minde how to amend it, with a speedie and behouefull returne. But then was his first studie, how to get away, whereto already he had Pamelas consent, confirmed and concluded vnder the name of Mopsa in her owne presence, Dorus taking this way, that whatsoeuer he would haue of Pamela he would aske her, whether in such a case it were not best for Mopsa so to behaue her selfe, in that sort making Mopsas enuie, an instrument of that she did enuie. So hauing passed ouer, his first and most feared difficultie, he busied his spirites how to come to the haruest of his desires, whereof he had so faire a shew. And therevnto (hauing gotten leaue for some dayes of his maister Damaetas, who now accompted him as his sonne in lawe,) he romed round about the desart, to finde some vnknowne way, that might bring him to the next Sea port, as much as might be out of all course of other passengers: which all very well succeeding him, and he hauing hired a Bark for his liues traffick, and prouided horsses to carrie her thither, returned homeward, now come to the last point of his care, how to goe beyond the loathsome watchfulnes of these three vncomely companions, and therin did wisely consider, how they were to be taken with whom he had to deale, remembring that in the particularities of euery bodies mind & fortune, there are particuler aduantages, by which they are to be held. The muddy mind of Damaetas, he found most easily sturred with couetousnes. The curst mischeuous hart of Miso, most apt to be tickled with iealousie, as whose rotten brain could think wel of no body. But yong mistres Mopsa, who could open her eys vpon nothing, that did not all to bewonder her, he thought curiositie the fittest bait for her. And first for Damaetas, Dorus hauing imploid a whole days work, about a tenne mile off from the lodge (quite contrary way to that he ment to take with Pamela) in digging & opening the ground, vnder an auncient oke that stood there, in such sort as might longest hold Damaetas greedy hopes, in some shewe of comfort, he came to his master, with a countenance mixt betwixt cherefulnes and haste, and taking him by the right hand, as if he had a great matter of secrecie to reueale vnto him: Master said he, I did neuer thinke that the gods had appointed my mind freely brought vp, to haue so longing a desire to serue you, but that they minded therby to bring some extraordinary frute to one so beloued of them, as your honesty makes me think you are. This bindes me euen in conscience, to disclose that which I perswade my self is alotted vnto you, that your fortune may be of equal ballance with your deserts. He said no further, because he would let Damaetas play vpon the bit a while, who not vnderstanding what his words entended, yet well finding, they caried no euil news, was so much the more desirous to know the matter, as he had free scope to imagin what measure of good hap himselfe would. Therefore putting off his cap to him, which he had neuer done before, & assuring him he should haue Mopsa, though she had bene all made of cloath of gold, he besought Dorus not to hold him long in hope, for that he found it a thing his hart was not able to beare. Maister, answered
Dorus, you haue so satisfied me, with promising me the vttermost of my desired blisse, that if my duty bound me not, I were in it sufficiently rewarded. To you
therefore shall my good hap be conuerted, and the fruite of all my labor dedicated. Therewith he told him, how vnder an auncient oke, (the place he made him easily vnderstand, by sufficient marks he gaue vnto him) he had found digging but a little depth, scatteringly lying a great number of rich Medailles, and that percing further into the ground, he had met with a great stone, which by the hollow sound it yeelded, seemed to be the couer of some greater vaut, and vpon it a boxe of Cypres, with the name of the valiant Aristomenes grauen vpon it: and that within the box, he found certaine verses, which signified that some depth againe vnder that all his treasures lay hidden, what time for the discord fell out in Arcadia he liued banished. Therwith he gaue Damaetas certaine Medailles of gold he had long kept about him, and asked him because it was a thing much to be kept secret, and a matter one man in twenty houres might easily performe, whether he would haue him go and seeke the bottome of it, which he had refrained to do till he knew his mind, promising he would faithfully bring him what he found, or else that he himselfe would do it, and be the first beholder of that comfortable spectacle. No man need doubt which part Damaetas would choose, whose fancie had alredy deuoured all this great riches, and euen now began to grudge at a partenor, before he saw his owne share. Therefore taking a strong Iade, loaden with spades and mattocks, which he ment to bring back otherwise laden, he went in all speed thetherward, taking leaue of no body, only desiring
Dorus he would looke wel to the Princes Pamela. Promising him mountaines of his owne labor, which neuerthelesse he little ment to performe, like a foole not considering, that no man is to be moued with part, that neglects the whole. Thus away went Damaetas, hauing alreadie made an image in his fancie, what Pallaces he would build, how sumptuously he would fare, and among all other things imagined what money to employ in making coffers to keepe his money, his tenne mile seemed twise so many leagues, and yet contrarie to the nature of it, though it seemed long, it was not wearysome. Many times he curssed his horses want of consideration, that in so important a matter would make no greater speede: many times he wished himself the back of an Asse, to help to carrie away the new sought riches, (an vnfortunate wisher, for if he had aswell wished the head, it had bene graunted him.) At length being come to the tree, which he hoped should beare so golden Akornes, downe went all his instruments, and forthwith to the renting vp of the hurtlesse earth, where by and by he was caught with the lime of a fewe promised Medailles, which was so perfect a pawne vnto him of his further expectation, that he deemed a great number of howers well employed in groping further into it, which with loggs and great stones was made as cumbersome as might be, till at length with sweatie browes he came to the great stone. A stone, God knowes, full vnlike to the couer of a Monument, but yet there was the Cipres box with Aristomenes grauen vpon it, and these verses written in it.
A Banisht man, long bard from his desire
By inward letts, of them his state possest,
Hid heere his hopes, by which he might aspire
To haue his harmes with wisdomes helpe redrest.
Seeke then and see, what man esteemeth best,
All is but this, this is our labours hire,
Of this we liue, in this wee finde our rest,
Who hold this fast no greater wealth require.
Looke further then, so shalt thou finde at least,
A baite most fit, for hungr
•
e minded guest.
He opened the box, and to his great comfort read them, and with fresh courage went about to lift vp that stone. But in the meane time, ere Damaetas was halfe a mile gone to the treasure warde, Dorus came to Miso, whom he found sitting in the chimneys ende, babling to her selfe, and shewing me all her gestures that she was loathsomly weary of the worlde, not for any hope of a better life, but finding no one, good neyther in minde nor body, where-out she might nourish a quiet thought, hauing long since hated each thing else, began now to hate her sel
•
e. Before this sweete humour'd Dame, Dorus set himselfe, and framed towardes her, such a smiling countenance, as might seeme to be mixt betwene a tickled mirth, and a forced pittie. Miso, to whome cheerefulnes in others, was euer a sauce of enuie in her selfe, tooke quicklie marke of his behauiour, and with a looke full of foreworne spite: Now the Deuill, sayd she, take these villaynes, that can neuer leaue grenning, because I am not so fayre as mistresse Mopsa, to see how this skip-iacke lookes at me. Dorus that had the occasion he desired, Truly mistresse aunswered he, my smiling is not at you, but at them that are from you, and in deede I must needes alittle accord my countenance with other sport. And therewithall tooke her in his armes, and rocking her too and fro, In faith mistresse, sayd he, it is high time for you, to bid vs good night for euer, since others can possesse your place in your owne time. Miso that was neuer voide of mallice enough to suspect the vttermost euill, to satisfye a further shrewdnes, tooke on a present mildnes, and gentlie desired him, to tell her what he meant, for, said she, I am like enough to be knauishly dealt with, by that churle my husband. Dorus fell off from the matter againe, as if he had meant no such thing, till by much refusing her intreatie, and vehemently stirring vp her desire to knowe, he had strengthned a credit in her to that he should saye. And then with a formall countenance, as if the conscience of the case had touched himselfe: Mistresse, sayd he, I am much perplexed in my owne determination, for my thoughts do euer will me to do honestlie, but my iudgement fayles me what is honest: betwixt the generall rule, that entrusted secreacies are holilie to be obserued, and the particuler exception that the dishonest secreacies are to be reuealed: especially there, whereby reuealing they may eyther be preuented, or at least amended. Yet in this ballance, your iudgement wayes me downe, because I haue confidence in it, that you will vse what you know moderately, and rather take such faults as an aduantage to your owne good desert, then by your bitter vsing it, be contented to be reuenged on others with your own harmes. So it is mistresse said he, that yesterday driuing my sheepe vp to the stately hill, which lifts his head ouer the faire Citie of Mantinea, I hapned vpon the side of it, in a little falling of the ground which was a rampie
•
against the Sunnes rage, to perceaue a yong maid, truly of the finest stamp of beawtie, & that which made her bewtie the more admirable, there was at all no arte added to the helping of it. For her apparell was but such as Shepheards daughters are wont to weare: and as for her haire, it hoong downe at the free libertie of his goodly length, but that sometimes falling before the cleare starres of her sight, she was forced to put it behinde
her eares, and so open againe the treasure of her perfections, which that for a while had in part hidden. In her lap there lay a Shepheard, so wrapped vp in that well liked place, that I could discerne no piece of his face, but as mine eyes were attent in that, her Angellike voice strake mine eares with this song:
MY true loue hath my hart, and I haue his,
By iust exchange, one for the other giu'ne.
I holde his deare, and myne he cannot misse:
There neuer was a better bargaine driu'ne.
His hart in me, keepes me and him in one,
My hart in him, his thoughtes and senses guides:
He loues my hart, for once it was his owne:
I cherish his, because in me it bides.
His hart his wound receaued from my sight:
My hart was wounded, with his wounded hart,
For as from me, on him his hurt did light,
So still me thought in me his hurt did smart:
Both equall hurt, in this change sought our blisse:
My true loue hath my hart and I haue his.
But as if the Shepheard that lay before her, had bene organes, which were only to be blowen by her breath, she had no sooner ended with the ioyning her sweete lips together, but that he recorded to her musick this rurall poesie:
O Words which fall like sommer deaw on me,
O breath more sweete, then is the growing beane,
O toong in which, all honyed likoures b
•
e,
O voice that doth, the Thrush in shrilnes staine,
Do you say still, this is her promise due,
That she is myne, as I to her am true.
Gay haire more gaie then straw when haruest lyes,
Lips red and plum, as cherries ruddy side,
Eyes faire and great, like faire great oxes eyes,
O brest in which two white sheepe swell in pride:
Ioyne you with me, to seale this promise due,
That she be myne, as I to her am true.
But thou white skinne, as white as cruddes well prest,
So smooth as sleekestone-like, it smoothes each parte,
And thou deare flesh, as soft as wooll new drest,
And yet as hard, as brawne made hard by arte:
First fower but say, next fowr their saying seale,
But you must pay, the gage of promist weale.
And with the conclusion of his song, he embraced her about the knees, O sweet Charita said he, when shall I enioy the rest of my toyling thoughts? And when shall
your blisfull promise now due, be verified with iust performance? with that I drew neerer to them, and saw (for now he had lifted vp his face to glasse himselfe in her faire eyes) that it was my master Damaetas, but here Miso interrupted his tale, with rayling at Damaetas, with all those exquisite termes, which I was neuer good skolde inough to imagine. But Dorus, as if he had ben much offended with her impaciēce, would proceed no further till she had vowed more stillnes. For said he, if the first drumme thus chafe you, what will you be when it commes to the blowes? Then he told her, how after many familiar entertainments betwixt them, Damaetas, laying before her, his great credit with the Duke, and withall giuing her very faire presents, with promise of much more, had in the ende concluded together to meete as that night at Mantinea, in the Oudemian streete, at Charitas vncles house, about tenne of the clocke. After which bargaine Damaetas had spied Dorus, and calling him to him, had with great brauery told him all his good happe, willing him in any case to returne to the olde witch Miso (for so indeede mistresse of liuelinesse, and not of ill will he termed you) and to make some honest excuse of his absence, for sayde he, kissing Charita, if thou didst know what a life I lead with that driuell, it would make thee euen of pittie, receaue me into thy only comfort. Now Mistresse sayde he, exercise your discretion, which if I were well assured of, I would wish you to goe yourselfe to Mantinea, and (lying secrete in some one of youre gossypps houses, till the time appoynted come) so may you finde them together, and vsing mercie, reforme my Maister from his euill wayes. There had nothing more enraged Miso, then the prayses Dorus gaue to Charitas bewtie, which made her iealosie swell the more, with the poyson of enuye. And that being increased with the presents she heard Damaetas had giuen her (which all seemed torne out of her bowells) her hollow eyes, yeelded such wretched lookes, as one might well thinke Pluto at that time, might haue had her soule very good cheape. But when the fire of spite had fully caught hold of all her inward partes, then whosoeuer would haue seene the picture of Alecto, or with what maner of countenance Medea kild her owne children, needed but take Miso for the full satisfaction of that point of his knowledge. She that could before scarce go, but supported by crutches, now flew about the house, borne vp with the wings of Anger, there was no one sort of mortall reuenge, that had euer come to her eares, but presented it selfe nowe to her gentle minde. At length with few words, for her words were choakt vp with the rising of her reuengefull hart, she ran downe, and with her own hands sadled a mare of hers, a mare that 7. yeare before had not bene acquainted with a sadle, & so to Mantinea she went, casting with her selfe, how she might couple shame with the punishmēt of her accursed husband: but the person is not worthie in whose passion I should too long stand. Therefore now must I tell you that Mistresse Mopsa (who was the last party Dorus was to practise his cunning withal) was at the parting of her parents, attending vpon the Princes Pamela, whom because she found to be placed in her fathers house, she knew it was for suspicion the Duke had of her. This made Mopsa with a right base nature (which ioyes to see anie hard hap happen to them, they deeme happie) grow prowd ouer her, & vse great ostentation of her own diligēce, in prying curiously into each thing that Pamela did. Neither is there any thing sooner ouerthrows a weak hart, then opiniō of authority, like too strong a liquor for so feebl a glasse, which ioined it self to the humor of enuying Pamelas beauty, so far, that oft she would say to her self, if she had ben borne a Duchesse as well as Pamela,
her perfections then should haue beene as well seene as Pamelas, with this manner of woman, and placed in these termes, had Dorus to play his last parte, which hee would quickly haue dispatched in tying her vp in such a maner, that she should litle haue hindred his enterprise. But that the vertuous Pamela, (whē she saw him so minded,) by countenaunce absolutlie forbad it, resolutely determining, she would not leaue behinde her any token of wrong since the wrong done to her selfe was the best excuse of her escape. So that Dorus was compelled to take her in the maner hee first thought of, and accordingly Pamela sitting musing at the strange attempt shee had condiscended vnto, and Mopsa harde by her, (looking in a glasse with very partiall eyes) Dorus put himselfe between them, and casting vp his face to the top of the house, shrugging all ouer his bodie, and stamping somtimes vpon the ground, gaue Mopsa occasion (who was as busie as a Bee to know any thing) to aske her louer Dorus what ayled him, that made him vse so strange a behauiour, he, as if his spirits had beene rauished with some supernaturall contemplation, stoode still muett, somtimes rubbing his forehead, sometime starting in him selfe, that hee set Mopsa in such an itche of inquirie, that she would haue offred her maydenhead, rather then belonge kept from it. Dorus not yet aunswearing to the purpose, still keeping his amazement. O Hercules, saide he, resolue me in this doubt. A tree to graunt ones wishes? Is this the cause of the Kinges solitarie life? Which parte shall I take? Happie in either, vnhappie because I cannot know which were my best happ. These doubtful selfe speches, made Mopsa yet in a further longing of knowing the matter, so that the prettie pigge, laying her sweete burden about his neck, my Dorus, saide she, tell mee these words, or els I know not what will befal mee, honny Dorus tell them me. Dorus hauing stretched her minde vpon a right laste, extremely loued Mopsa, saide hee, the matters be so great, as my harte failes me in the telling them, but since you holde the greatest seate in it, it is reason your desire should adde life vnto it. Ther with he told her a farre fet tale how that many millions of yeares before, Iupiter fallen out with Apollo had throwne him out of heauen, taking from him the priueledge of a God. So that poore Apollo was faine to leade a verie miserable life, vnacquainted to worke and neuer vsed to begge, that in this order hauing in time learned to bee Admetus heardman, he had vpon occasion of fetching a certaine breed of beastes out of Arcadia, come to that verie deserte, where wearied with trauaile, and resting himselfe in the boughes of a pleasaunt Ashe tree, stoode little of from the lodge, hee had with pittifull complaintes gotten his father Iupiters pardon, and so from that tree was receaued againe to his golden spheare. But hauing that right nature of a God, neuer to be vngratefull, to Admetus hee had graunted a double life, and because that tree was the chappel of his prosperous prayers, he had giuen it this equality, that whatsoeuer of such estate, and in such maner as he then was, sate downe in that tree, they should obtaine whatsoeuer they wished. This Basilius hauing vnderstoode by the oracle, was the onely cause which had made him trie, whether framing himselfe to the state of an heardman, he might haue the preuiledge of wishing onely graunted to that degree, but that hauing often in vaine attempted it, because indeede hee was not such, he had now opened the secret to Dametas, making him sweare hee should wish according to his direction. But because said Dorus, Apollo was at that time with extreme griefe muffled, round aboute his face, with a skarlet cloake, Admetus had giuen him, and because they that must wish must be muffled in like sorte, and with like stuffe, my master Dametas is gone I know not whither to prouide him
a skarlet cloake, and to morrow doth appointe to returne with it, my Mistresse I cannot tell how, hauing gotten some inckling of it, is trudged to Mantinea to get her selfe a cloake before him: because she woulde haue the first wishe. My master at his parting of great trust tould me this secret, commaunding me to see no bodie should clime that tree. But now my Mopsa, said he, I haue here the like cloake of mine owne and am not so verie a foole as though I keep his commaundement in others to barre my selfe, I rest onely extreemely perplexed, because hauing nothing in the worlde I wish for, but the enioying you & your fauour, I think it a much pleasanter conquest to come to it by your owne consent, then to haue it by such a charming force, as this is. Now therefore choose since haue you I will, in what sorte I shall haue you. But neuer child was so desirons of a gay puppet, as Mopsa was to be in the tree, and therefore without squeamishnes, promising all he woulde, shee coniured him by all her precious Loues, that she might haue the first possession of the wishing tree, assuring him that for the enioying her he should neuer neede to clime farre. Dorus to whom time was precious, made no great ceremonies with her, but helping her vp to the top of the tree, from whence likewise she could ill come downe without helpe, he muffled her round about the face, so truely that she her selfe could not vndoe it. And so he tolde her the manner was, she should hold her mind in continuall deuotion to Apollo, without making at al any noyse, till at the farthest within twelue howers space, she should heare a voice call her by name three times, & that till the thirde time shee must in no wise aunswere; & then you shall not need to doubt your cōming down, for at that time said he, be sure to wish wisely, & in what shape soeuer he come vnto you speake boldly vnto him, and your wish shall haue as certaine effecte, as I haue a desire to enioy your sweet Loues, in this plight did hee leaue Mopsa, resolued in her hart, to be the greatest Lady of the world, & neuer after to feede of worse then furmentie. Thus Dorus hauing deliuered his hands of his three tormentors, took speedely the benefit of his deuise, and mounting the gracious Pamela vpon a faire horse he had prouided for her he thrust himselfe forthwith into the wildest part of the desarte, where he had left markes to guide him, frō place to place to the next sea porte, disguising her very fitly with scarfes although he rested assured, he should meet that way with no body, till he came to his barck, into which hee ment to enter by night. But Pamela who al this while, transported with desire & troubled with feare had neuer free scope of iudgemēt to look with perfect consideratiō into her own enterprise but euē by the lawes of loue, had bequeathed the care of her self vpō him to whom she had geuē her self. Now that the pang of desire with euident hope was quieted, & most part of the feare passed, reason began to renew his shining in her hart, & make her see her self in her selfe; & weigh with what wings she flew out of her natiue contry; and vpon what ground she builte so strange a determinaciō. But loue fortified with her louers presence kept still his own in her hart. So that as they ridde together with her hand vpon her faithfull seruants shoulder, sodainly casting her bashfull eies to the ground, and yet bending her self towards him, (like the clyent that committes the cause of all his worth to a well trusted aduocate,) frō a milde spirit saide vnto him these sweetely deliuered wordes: Prince Musidorus, (for so my assured hope is I may iustlie call you, since with no other my harte woulde euer haue yeelded to goe; And if so I doe not rightlie tearme you, all other wordes are as bootelesse, as my deede miserable and I as vnfortunate, as you wicked) my Prince Musidorus I saye nowe that the vehement shewes of your faithfull Loue towardes mee, haue
brought my minde to answeare it, in so due a proportion, that contrarie to all generall rules of reason, I haue layde in you, my estate, my life, my honour: it is your part to double your former care, and make me see your vertue no lesse in preseruing then in obtaining: and your faith to bee a faith asmuch in freedome, as bondage. Tender now your owne workemanshippe; and so gouerne your loue towardes me as I may still remaine worthie to bee loued. Your promise you Remember, which here by the eternall giuers of vertue, I coniure you to obserue, let me be your owne as I am, but by no vniust conquest; let not our ioyes which ought euer to last, bee stayned in our own consciences, let no shadow of repentaunce steale into the sweet consideration of our mutuall happines. I haue yeelded to bee your wife, staye then till the time that I may rightly bee so; let no other defiled name burden my harte. What shoulde I more saye? If I haue chosen well, all doubte is past, since your action onely must determine, whether I haue done vertuously or shamefully in following you. Musidorus that had more aboundaunce of ioye in his hart, then Vlisses
had what time with his owne industrie he stale the fatall Palladium, imagined to bee the only relicke of Troies safetie, taking Pamelas hand, and many times kissing it. What I am said he, the Gods I hope will shortly make your owne eyes Iudges; and of my minde towards you, the meane time shalbe my pledge vnto you your contentment is dearer to me then mine owne, & therfore doubt not of his mind, whose thoughts are so thralled vnto you, as you are to bend or slack them as it shall s
•
eme best vnto you. You do wrong to your selfe, to make any doubte that a base estate could euer vndertake so high an enterprise; or a spotted minde bee hable to beholde your vertues. Thus much onely I must confesse, I can neuer doe, to make the worlde see you haue chosen worthily, since all the world is not worthy of you. In such delightfull discourses, kept they on their Iournye, mayntaining their hartes in that right harmonie of affection, which doth enterchangeably deliuer each to other the secret workinges of their soules, till with the vnused trauaile, the Princesse being weary, they lighted downe in a faire thyckwood, which did entise them with the pleasantnes of it to take their rest there. It was all of Pine trees, whose brodeheades meeting togither, yeelded a perfit shade to the ground, where their bodies gaue a spacious and pleasant roome to walke in, they were sett in so perfet an order, that euerie waye the eye being full, yet no way was stopped. And euen in the middest of them, were there many sweete springes, which did loose themselues vpon the face of the earth. Here Musidorus drew out such prouision of fruites, & other cates, as he had brought for that dayes repaste, and layde it downe vpon the faire Carpet of the greene grasse. But Pamela had much more pleasure to walke vnder those trees, making in their barkes prettie knottes, which tyed togither the names of Musidorus and Pamela, sometimes entermixedly changing there, to Pammedorus and Musimela, with twentie other flowers of her trauiling fancies, which had bounde them selues to a greater restrainte, then they could without much painewell endure, and to one tree more beholdinge to her, then the rest she entrusted the treasure of her thoughtes in these verses:
DO not disdaine, ô streight vp raised Pine
That wounding thee, my thoughtes in thee I graue:
Since that my thoughtes, as streight as streightnes thine
No smaller wound, alas! farr deeper haue.
Deeper engrau'd, which salue nor time can saue,
Giu'ne to my harte, by my fore wounded eyne:
Thus cruell to my selfe how canst thou craue
My inward hurte should spare thy outward rine
•
Yet still fairetree, lifte vp thy stately line,
Liue long, and long witnesse my chosen smarte,
Which barde desires, (barde by my selfe) imparte
And in this growing barke growe verses myne.
My harte my worde, my worde hath giu'ne my harte.
The giuer giu'n from gifte shall neuer parte.
Vpon a roote of the tree, that the earth had lefte something barer then the rest, she wrat this couplet:
SWeete roote say thou, the roote of my desire
Was vertue cladde in constant loues attire.
Musidorus, seing her fancies drawne vp to such pleasaunt contemplations, accompanied her in them, and made the trees aswell beare the badges of his passions
•
As this songe engraued in them did testifie:
YOu goodly pines, which still with braue assent
In natures pride your heads to heau'nwarde heaue,
Though you besides such graces earth hath lent,
Of some late grace a greater grace receaue,
By her who was (O blessed you) content,
With her faire hande, your tender barkes to cleaue,
And so by you (O blessed you) hath sent,
Such pearcing wordes as no thoughts els conceaue:
Yet yeeld your graunt, a baser hand may leaue
His thoughtes in you, where so sweete thoughtes were spent,
For how would you the mistresse thoughts bereaue
Of waiting thoughts all to her seruice ment?
Nay higher thoughtes (though thralled thoughtes) I call
My thoughtes then hers, who first your ryne did rente.
Then hers, to whom my thoughts a lonely thrall
Rysing from lowe, are to the highest bente;
Where hers, whom worth makes highest ouer all
Comming from her, cannot but downewarde fall.
While Pamela sitting her downe vnder one of them, and making a posie of the fayer vndergrowinge flowers, filled Musidorus eares with the heauenly sounde
of her musicke, which before he had neuer heard, so that it seemed vnto him a new assaulte giuen to the castle of his hart, alredye conquered, which to signifie and with all replie to her sweete noates, hee sang in a kinde of still, but rauishing tune a fewe verses, her song was this, and his Replie followes:
Pamela.
LIke diuers flowers, whose diuers beauties serue
To decke the earth with his well-colourde weede,
Though each of them, his priuate forme preserue,
Yet ioyning formes one sight of beautie breede.
Right so my thoughts, where on my hart I feede:
Right so my inwarde partes, and outward glasse,
Though each possesse a diuers working kinde,
Yet all well knit to one faire end do passe:
That he to whome, these sondrie giftes I binde
All what I am, still one, his owne, doe finde.
Musidorus.
All what you are still one, his owne to finde,
You that are borne to be the worldes eye,
What were it els, but to make each thing blinde?
And to the sunne with waxen winges to flie?
No no, such force with my small force to trye
Is not my skill, or reach of mortall minde.
Call me but yours, my title is most hye:
Holde me most yours, then my longe suite is signde.
You none can clayme but you your selfe aright,
For you do passe your selfe, in vertues might.
So both are yours: I, bound with gaged harte:
You onely yours, too farr beyond desarte.
In this vertuous wantonnes, suffering their mindes to descend to each tender enioying their vnited thoughts, Pamela, hauing tasted of the fruites, and growinge extreame sleepie, hauing ben long kept from it, with the perplexitie of her dangerous attempte, laying her head in his lappe, was inuited by him to sleepe with these softly vttered verses:
LOcke vp, faire liddes, the treasure of my harte:
Preserue those beames, this ages onely lighte:
To her sweete sence, sweete sleepe some ease imparte,
Her sence too weake to beare her spirits mighte.
And while ô sleepe thou closest vp her sight,
(Her sight where loue did forge his fayrest darte)
ô harbour all her partes in easefull plighte:
Let no strange dreme make her fayre body start
•
.
But yet ô dreame, if thou wilt not departe
In this rare subiect from the common right:
But wilt thy selfe in such a seate delighte,
Then take my shape, and play a louers parte:
Kisse her from me, and say vnto her spirite,
Till her eyes shine, I liue in darkest night.
The sweete Pamela, was brought into a sweete sleepe with this songe which gaue Musidorus opportunity at leasure to beholde her excellent beauties. He thought her faire forehead was a fielde where all his fancies fought; and euery haire of her heade semed a strong chain thattied him. Her fairer liddes then hiding her fairer eyes, seemed vnto him sweete boxes of mother of pearle, riche in themselues, but contaning in them farre richer Iewells. Her cheekes with their coullour most delicately mixed would haue entertained his eyes somewhile, but that the roses of her lippes (whose separating was wont to bee accompanied with most wise speeches) nowe by force drewe his sight to marke how preatily they lay one ouer the other, vniting their deuided beauties: and thorough them the eye of his fancy deliuered to his memorie the lying (as in ambush) vnder her lippes of those armed rankes, all armed in most pure white, and keeping the most precise order of military discipline. And lest this beautie might seeme the picture of some excellent artificer, fourth there stale a softe breath, carying good testimony of her inward sweetnesse: and so stealingly it came out, as it seemed loath to leaue his contentfull mansion, but that it hoped to bee drawne in againe to that well cloased paradise, which did so tyrannize ouer Musidorus affectes that hee was compelled to put his face as lowe to hers, as hee coulde, sucking the breath with such ioye, that he did determine in himselfe, there had ben no life to a Camaeleons if he might be suffered to enioye that foode. But long hee was not suffered being within a while interrupted by the comming of a company of clownish vilaines, armed with diuers sortes of weapons, and for the rest both in face and apparell so forewasted that they seemed to beare a great conformity with the sauages; who miserable in themselues, taught to encrease their mischieues in other bodies harmes, came with such cries as they both awaked Pamela, and made Musidorus turne vnto them full of a most violent rage, with the looke of a shee Tigree, when her whelpes are stolne away.
But Zelmane whome I left in the Caue hardly bestead, hauing both great wittes and sturring passions to deale with, makes me lend her my penne a while to see with what dexteritie she could put by her daungers. For hauing in one instant both to resist rage and goe beyond wisedome, being to deale with a Ladie that had her witts a wake in euery thing, but in helping her owne hurte, she saw now no other remedy in her case, but to qualifie her rage with hope, and to satisfie her witt with plainesse. Yet lest to abrupt falling into it, shoulde yeelde too great aduantage vnto her, shee thought good to come to it by degrees with this kind of insinuation. Your wise, but very darke speeches, most excellent Lady, are wouen vp in so intricate a maner, as I know not how to proportiō mine answere vnto thē: so are your prayers mixte with threates, and so is the shew of your loue hidden with the name of reuenge, the natural effect of mortal hatred. You seeme displeased with the opinion you haue of my disguising, and yet if bee not disguised, you must needes be much more displeased.
Hope then (the only succour of perplexed mindes) being quite cut off, you desire my affection, and yet you your selfe thinke my affection already bestowed. You pretend crueltie, before you haue the subiection, and are iealous of keeping that, which as yet you haue not gotten. And that which is strangest in your iealousie, is both the vniustice of it, in being loath that should come to your daughter, which you deeme good, and the vaynnesse, since you two are in so diuers respects, that there is no necessitie one of you should fall to be a barre to the other. For neyther (if I be such as you fancie) can I mary you, which must needes be the only ende I can aspire to in her: neither neede the maryeng of her keepe me from a gratefull consideracion how much you honor me in the loue you vouchsafe to beare me. Gynaecia, to whome the fearefull agonies she still liued in made any small repriuall sweete, did quickly finde her words falling to a better way of comfort, and therefore with a minde readie to shewe nothing could make it rebellious against Zelmane, but to extreme tyrannie, she thus sayd: Alas too much beloued Zelmane, the thoughts are but outflowings of the minde, and the tongue is but a seruant of the thoughtes, therefore maruaile not that my words suffer contrarieties, since my minde doth hourely suffer in it selfe whole armyes of mortall aduersaries. But, alas, if I had the vse of mine owne reason, then should I not neede, for want of it, to finde my selfe in this desperate mischiefe, but because my reason is vanished, so haue I likewise no power to correct my vnreasonablenes. Do you therefore accept the protection of my minde, which hath no other resting place, and driue it not, by being vnregarded to put it selfe into vnknowne extremities. I desire but to haue my affection answered, and to haue a right reflection of my loue in you. That graunted, assure your selfe mine owne loue will easily teach me to seeke your contentment: and make me thinke my daughter a very meane price to keepe still in mine eyes the foode of my spirits. But take heede that contempt driue me not into despaire, the most violent cause of that miserable effect. Zelmane that alreadie sawe some fruite of her last determined fancie (so farre as came to a mollifyeng of Gynecias rage) seeing no other way to satisfye suspicion, which was help open with the continuall prickes of loue, resolued now with plainnesse to winne trust, which trust she might after deceyue with a greater subtletie. Therefore looking vpon her with a more relenting grace, then euer she had done before, pretending a great bashfulnes before she could come to confesse such a fault, she thus sayde vnto her: Most worthye Ladye, I did neuer thinke, till now, that pittie of another coulde make me betray my selfe, nor that the sounde of wordes could ouerthrow any wise bodies determinacion. But your words (I thinke) haue charmed me, and your grace bewitched me. Your compassion makes me open my hart to you, and leaue vnharboured mine owne thoughts. For proofe of it, I will disclose my greatest secreate, which well you might suspect, but neuer knowe, and so haue your wandring hope in a more painefull wildernesse, being neither way able to be lodged in a perfect resolucion. I will, I say, vnwrappe my hidden estate, and after make you iudge of it, perchance director. The truth is, I am a man: nay, I will say further to you, I am borne a Prince. And to make vp youre minde in a through vnderstanding of mee, since I came to this place, I may not denye I haue had some sprinkling of I knowe not what good liking to my Lady Philoclea. For howe coulde I euer imagine, the heauens woulde haue rayned downe so much of your fauour vpon me? and of that side there was a shewe of possible hope, the most comfortable
Counsellor of loue. The cause of this my chaunged attyre, was a iourney two yeares agoe I made among the Amazons, where hauing sought to trye my vnfortunate valure, I met not one in all the Countrey but was too harde for me, till in the ende in the presence of their Queene Marpesia, I hoping to preuayle agaynst her, challenged an olde woman of fourescore yeares, to fight on horssebacke to the vttermost with me. Who hauing ouerthrowne me, for the sauing of my life, made me sweare I should goe like an vnarmed Amazon, till the comming of my beard did, with the discharge of my oath, deliuer me of that bondage. Here Zelmane ended, not comming to a full conclusion, because she would see what it wrought in Gynecias minde, hauing in her speech sought to winne a beliefe of her, and, if it might be, by disgrace of her selfe to diminish Gynecias affection. For the first it had much preuailed. But Gynecia whose ende of louing her, was not her fighting, neyther could her loue too deepely grounded receiue diminishment; and besides she had seene herselfe, sufficient proofes of Zelmanes admirable prowesse. Therefore sleightly passing ouer that poynt of her fayned dishonor, but taking good hold of the confessing her manly sexe, with the shamefaste looke of that suitor, who hauing already obtayned much, is yet forced by want to demaunde more, put foorth her sorrowfull suite in these words: The gods, sayd she, rewarde thee for thy vertuouse pittie of my ouerladen soule, who yet hath receyued some breath of comfort, by finding thy confession to maintayne some possibilitie of my languishing hope. But alas! as they who seeke to enrich themselues by minerall industrie, the first labour is to finde the myne, which to their cheerefull comfort being founde, if after any vnlooked for stop, or casuall impediment keepe them from getting the desired vre, they are so much the more greeued, as the late conceaued hope addes torment to their former wante. So falles it out with mee (happie or happlesse woman as it pleaseth you to ordayne) who am now either to receyue some guerdon of my most wofull labours, or to returne into a more wretched darkenes, hauing had some glimmering of my blisfull Sunne. O Zelmane, tread not vpon a soule that lyes vnder your foote: let not the abasing of my selfe make me more base in your eyes, but iudge of me according to that I am and haue bene, and let my errors be made excusable by the immortall name of loue. With that, vnder a fayned rage, tearing her clothes, she discouered some partes of her fayre body, which if Zelmanes harte had not bene so fully possest as there was no place left for any new guest, no doubt it would haue yelded to that gallant assault. But Zelmane so much the more arming her determination, as she sawe such force threatened, yet still remembring she must wade betwixt constancie and curtesey, embracing Gynecia, and once or twise kissing her, Deare Ladie, sayd she, he were a great enemy to himselfe, that would refuse such an offer, in the purchase of which a mans life were blessedly bestowed. Nay, how can I euer yeeld due recompence, for so excessiue a fauour? but hauing nothing to geue you but my selfe, take that: I must confesse a small, but a very free gift what other affection soeuer I haue had, shall geue place to as great perfection, working besides vppon the bonde of gratefulnes. The gods forbid I should be so foolish, as not to see, or so wicked as not to remember, how much my small deserts are ouerballanced by your vnspeakeable goodnes. Nay happye may I well accompt my mishap among the Amazons, since that dishonor hath bene so true a path to my greatest honor, and the chaunging of my outward rayment, hath clothed my
minde in such inwarde contentacion. Take therefore noble Lady as much comfort to youre harte, as the full commandement of me can yeeld you: wipe your faire eyes, and keepe them for nobler seruices. And nowe I will presume thus much to saye vnto you, that you make of your selfe for my sake, that my ioyes of my new obtayned riches may be accomplished in you. But let vs leaue this place, least you be too long missed, and henceforward quiet your minde from any further care, for I will now (to my too much ioye) take the charge vpon me, within fewe dayes to worke your satisfaction, and my felicitie. Thus much she sayde, and withall led Gynecia out of the Caue, for well she sawe the boyling minde of
Gynecia did easily apprehende the fitnesse of that lonely place. But in deede this direct promise of a short space, ioyned with the cumbersome familiar of womankinde, I meane modestie, stayed so Gynecias minde, that she tooke thus much at that present for good payment: remayning with a paynefull ioye, and a wearysome kinde of comfort, not vnlike to the condemned prisoner, whose minde still running vppon the violent arriuall of his cruell death, heares that his pardon is promised, but not yet signed. In this sort they both issued out of that obscure mansion: Gynecia already halfe perswaded in her selfe (ô weakenes of humane conceite) that Zelmanes affection was turned towards her. For such alas! we are all, in such a mould are we cast, that with the too much loue we beare our selues, beeing first our owne flatterers, wee are easily hooked with our owne flattery, we are easily perswaded of others loue.
But Zelmane who had now to playe her prize, seeing no waye thinges could long remayne in that state, and now finding her promise had tyed her tryall to a small compasse of tyme, began to throwe her thoughtes into each corner of her inuention howe shee might atchieue her liues enterprise: for well shee knewe deceite cannot otherwise be mayntayned but by deceite: and how to deceyue such heedfull eyes, and how to satisfye, and yet not satisfye such hopefull desires, it was no small skill. But both their thoughtes were called from themselues, with the sight of Basilius, who then lying downe by his daughter Philoclea,
vppon the fayre, though naturall, bed of greene-grasse, seeing the sunne what speede hee made, to leaue our West to doo his office in the other Hemisphere, his inwarde Muses made him in his best musicke, sing this Madrigall.
WHy doost thou haste away
O Titan faire the giuer of the daie?
Is it to carry newes
To Westerne wightes, what starres in East appeare?
Or doost thou thinke that heare
Is left a Sunne, whose beames thy place may vse?
Yet stay and well peruse,
What be her giftes, that make her equall thee,
Bend all thy light to see
In earthly clothes enclosde a heauenly sparke.
Thy running course cannot such beawties marke:
No, no, thy motions bee
Hastened from vs with barre of shadow darke,
Because that thou the author of our sight
Disdainst we see thee staind with others light.
And hauing ended, Deere Philoclea, said he, sing something that may diuerte my thoughts from the continuall taske of their ruinous harbour: She obedient to him, and not vnwilling to disburden her secret passion, made her sweete voice be heard in these words:
O Stealing time the subiect of delaie,
(Delay, the racke of vnrefram'd desire)
What strange dessein hast thou my hopes to staie
My hopes which do but to mine owne aspire?
Mine owne? ô word on whose sweete sound doth pray
My greedy soule, with gripe of inward fire:
Thy title great, I iustlie chalenge may,
Since in such phrase his faith he did attire.
O time, become the chariot of my ioyes:
As thou drawest on, so let my blisse draw neere.
Each moment lost, part of my hap destroyes:
Thou art the father of occasion deare:
Ioyne with thy sonne, to ease my long annoy's.
In speedie helpe, thanke worthie frends appeare.
Philoclea brake off her Song, as soone as her mother with Zelmane came neere vnto them, rising vp with a kindly bashfulnes, being not ignorant of the spite her mother bare her, and stricken with the sight of that person, whose loue made all those troubles, seeme fayre flowers of her deerest garlond, Nay rather all those troubles, made the loue encrease. For as the arriuall of enemyes, makes a towne so fortifye it selfe, as euer after it remaynes stronger, so that a man may say, enemyes were no small cause to the townes strength: So to a minde once fixed in a well pleased determinacion, who hopes by annoyance to ouerthrowe it, doth but teach it to knit together all his best grounds, and so perchance of a chaunceable purpose, make an vnchangeable resolucion. But no more Philoclea see, the wonted signes of Zelmanes affection towardes her; she thought she sawe an other light in her eyes, with a bould and carelesse looke vpon her which was wont to be dazeled with her beawtie; and the framing of her courtesyes rather ceremonious then affectionate, and that which worst liked her, was, that it proceeded with such quiet setlednes, as it rather threatned a full purpose, then any sodayne passion. She founde her behauiour bent altogether to her mother, and presumed in her selfe, she discerned the well acquainted face of his fancies now turned to another subiecte. She sawe her mothers worthines, and too well knewe her affection. These ioyning theyr diuers working powers together in her minde, but yet a prentise in the paynefull misterye of passions, brought Philoclea into a newe trauers of her thoughtes, and made her keepe her carefull looke the more attentiue vppon Zelmanes behauiour, who in deede (though with much payne, and
condemning her selfe to commit a sacriledge, against the sweete saincte that liued in her in most Temple) yet strengthening herselfe in it, beeing the surest waye to make Gynecia bite off her other baytes, did so quite ouerrule all wonted showes of loue to Philoclea, and conuert them to Gynecia, that the parte she played, did worke in both a full and liuely perswasion: to Gynecia, such excessiue comforte, as the beeing preferred to a riuall doth deliuer to swelling desire: But to the delicate Philoclea, whose calme thoughtes were vnable to nourish any strong debate, it gaue so stinging a hurt, that fainting vnder the force of her inwarde torment, she withdrewe her selfe to the Lodge, and there wearye of supporting her owne burden, cast her selfe vppon her bed, suffering her sorrowe to melt it selfe into abundance of teares, at length closing her eyes, as if eache thing she sawe was a picture of her mishap, and turning vpon her hurtside, which with vehement panting, did summon her to consider her fortune, she thus bemoned her selfe.
Alas Philoclea, is this the price of all thy paynes? Is this the rewarde of thy giuen awaye libertye? Hath too much yeelding bred crueltye? or can too greate acquaintance, make mee helde for a straunger? Hath the choosing of a companion, made mee lefte alone? or doth graunting desire, cause the desire to bee neglected? Alas, despised Philoclea, why diddest thou not holde thy thoughtes in theyr simple course, and content thy
•
elfe with the loue of thy owne vertue, which would neuer haue betrayed thee? Ah sillie foole, diddest thou looke for truth in him, that with his owne mouth confest his falsehood? for playne proceeding in him, that still goes disguised? They say the falsest men will yet beare outward shewes of a pure minde. But he that euen outwardly beares the badge of treacherie, what hells of wickednes must needes in the depth be contayned? But ô wicked mouth of mine, how darest thou thus blaspheme the ornament of the earth, the vessell of all vertue? O wretch that I am that will anger the gods in dispraysing their most excellent worke! O no, no, there was no fault but in me, that could euer thinke so high eyes would looke so lowe, or so great perfections would stayne themselues with my vnworthines. Alas! why could I not see? I was too weake a band to tye so heauenly a hart: I was not fit to limit the infinite course of his wonderfull destenies. Was it euer like that vpon only Philoclea his thoughtes should rest? Ah silly soule that couldst please thy selfe with
•
o impossible an imagination! An vniuersall happines is to flowe from him. How was I so inueagled to hope, I might be the marke of such a minde? He did thee no wrong, ô Philoclea, he did thee no wrong, it was thy weakenes to fancie the beames of the sonne should giue light to no eyes but thine! And yet, ô Prince Pirocles, for whome I may well begin to hate my selfe, but can neuer leaue to loue thee, what triumph canst thou make of this conquest? what spoiles wilt thou carry away of this my vndeserued ouerthrow? could thy force finde out no fitter field, then the feeble minde of a poore mayde, who at the first sight did wish thee all happines? shall it be sayde the mirrour of mankinde hath bene employed to destroy a hurtlesse gentlewoman? O Pirocles, Pirocles, let me yet call thee before the iudgement of thine owne vertue, let me be accepted for a plaintiffe in a cause which concernes my life: what need hadst thou to arme thy face, with the enchanting mask of thy painted passions? wht need hadst thou to fortefy thy excellēcies with so exquisit a cunning, in making our own arts betray vs? what needest thou descend so far frō thy incomparable worthines, as
to take on the habit of weake womankinde? Was all this to winne the vndefended Castle of a friend, which being wonne, thou wouldest after raze? Could so small a cause allure thee? or did not so vniust a cause stop thee? ô me, what say I more, this is my case, my loue hates me, vertue deales wickedly with me, and he does me wrong, whose doing I can neuer accompt wrong. With that the sweet Lady turning her selfe vppon her weary bed, she happly sawe a Lute, vpon the belly of which Gynecia had written this song, what time Basilius imputed her iealous motions to proceed of the doubt she had of his vntimely loues. Vnder which vaile she contented to couer her neuer ceassing anguish, had made the Lute a monument of her minde, which Philoclea had neuer much marked, till now the feare of a competitour more sturred her, then before the care of a mother. The verses were these.
MY Lute which in thy selfe thy tunes enclose,
Thy mistresse song is now a sorrow's crie,
Her hand benumde with fortunes daylie blows,
Her minde amaz'de can neithers helpe applie.
Weare these my words as mourning weede of woes,
Blacke incke becommes the state wherein I dye.
And though my mones be not in musicke bound,
Of written greefes, yet be the silent ground.
The world doth yeeld such ill consorted shows,
With circkled course, which no wise stay can trye,
That childish stuffe which knowes not frendes from foes,
(Better despisde) bewondre gasing eye.
Thus noble golde, downe to the bottome goes,
When worthlesse corke, aloft doth floting lye.
Thus in thy selfe, least strings are loudest founde,
And lowest stops doo yeeld the hyest sounde.
Philoclea read them, and throwing downe the Lute, is this the legacie you haue bequeathed me, O kinde mother of mine said she? did you bestow the light vpon me for this? or did you beare me to be the Author of my buriall? A trim purchase you haue made of your owne shame; robbed your daughter to ruyne your selfe! The birds vnreasonable, yet vse so much reason, as to make nestes for their tender young ones; my cruell Mother turnes me out of mine owne harbour; Alas, plaint bootes not, for my case can receaue no helpe, for who should geue mee helpe? shall I flye to my parents? they are my murtherers, shall I goe to him who already being woon and lost, must needs haue killed all pittie? Alas I can bring no new intercessions, he knows already what I am is his. Shall I come home againe to my self? ô me contemned wretch; I haue giuen away my self. With that the poore soule beate her breast, as if that had bene guilty of her faults, neither thinking of reuenge, nor studying for remedy, but sweete creature gaue greefe a free dominion, keeping her chamber a few days after, not needing to faine her self sick, feeling euen in her soule the pangs of extreeme paine. But little did Gynecia reck that, neyther when she sawe her goe awaye from them, neyther when she after found that sicknes made her hide her faire face: so much had fancye preuailed against nature.
But ô you that haue euer knowen, how tender to euery motion loue makes the louers hart, how he measures all his ioyes vpon her contentment: & doth with respectful eye hang al his behauiour vpō her eyes, iudg I praye you now of Zelmanes troubled thoughts, when she saw Philoclea, with an amazed kinde of sorrow, carrie awaye her sweete presence, and easely founde, (so happie a coniecture vnhappie affection hath) that her demeanour was guiltie of that trespasse. There was neuer foolish softe harted mother, that forced to beate her childe, did weepe first for his paines, and doing that she was loath to do, did repent before she began, did finde ha
•
fe that motion in her weake minde, as Zelmane did, now that she was forced by reason, to giue an outward blowe to her passions, and for the lending of a small time, to seeke the vsury of all her desires. The vnkindnes she conceaued, Philoclea might conceaue, did wound her soule, each teare she doubted she spent, drowned all her comforte. Her sicknes was a death vnto her. Often woulde shee speake to the image of Philoclea, which liued and ruled in the highest of her inwarde parte, and vse vehement othes and protestations vnto her; that nothing shoulde euer falsifie the free chosen vowe she had made. Often woulde she desire her that she would looke wel to Pyrocles hart, for as for her shee had no more interest in it to bestow it any way: Alas woulde shee saye onely Philoclea hast thou not so much feeling of thine owne force, as to knowe no new conquerer can preuaile against thy conquestes? Was euer any daseled with the moone, that had vsed his eyes to the beames of the Sunne? Is hee carried awaye with a greedie desire of Akornes, that hath had his senses rauished with a garden of most delightfull fruites? O Philoclea Philoclea, be thou but as mercifull a Princesse to my minde, as thou arte a trewe possessour, and I shal haue as much cause of gladnes as thou hast no cause of misdoubting. O no no, when a mans owne harte is the gage of his debte, when a mans owne thoughts are willing witnesses to his promise, lastly when a man is the gaylour ouer himselfe: There is little doubte of breaking credit, and lesse doubt of such an escape. In this combat of Zelmanes doubtfull imaginations, in the ende reason well backed with the vehement desire, to bring her matters soone to the desired hauen, did ouer rule the boyling of her inward kindnes, though as I say with such a manifest strife, that both Basilius and Gynecias well wayting eyes, had marked her muses had laboured in deeper subiecte, then ordinarie, which she likewise perceauing they had perceaued, a waking her selfe out of those thoughtes, and principally caring howe to satisfie Gynecia (whose iudgement and passion shee stood most in regarde of) bowing her head to her attentiue eare, Madame saide she, with practise of my thoughts, I haue found out a way by which your contentment shall draw on my happines. Gynecia deliuering in her face as thankfull a ioyfulnes, as her harte coulde holde, saide it was then time to retire themselues to their rest, for what, with riding abroade the day before, and late sitting vp for Egloges, their bodyes had dearely purchased that nightes quiet. So went they home to their lodge,
Zelmane framing of both sides bountifull measures of louing countenaunces to eithers ioye, and neythers iealousie; to the especiall comforte of Basilius, whose weaker bowels were streight full with the least liquour of hope. So that still holding her by the hand, and sometimes tickling it, he went by her with the most gay conceates that euer had entred his braines, growing now so harted in his resolucion, that hee little respected Gynecias presence. But with a lustier note then wonted, clearing his voice, and chearing his spirits, looking still vpon Zelmane (whome now the moone did beautifie with her shining almost at the full) as if her eyes had beene his songe
booke, he did the message of his minde in singing these verses:
VVHen two Sunnes do appeare
Some say it doth betoken wonders neare
As Princes losse or change:
Two gleaming Sunnes of splendour like I see,
And seeing feele in me
Of Princes harte quite lost the ruine strange.
But nowe each where doth range
With ouglie cloke the darke enuious night:
Who full of guiltie spite,
Such liuing beames should her black seate assaile,
Too weake for them our weaker sighte doth vaile.
No saies faire moone, my lighte
Shall barr that wrong; and though it not preuaile
Like to my brothers raise, yet those I sende
Hurte not the face, which nothing can amende.
And by that time being come to the lodge, and visited the sweete Philoclea, with much lesse then naturall care of the parents, and much lesse then wonted kindenes of Zelmane, each partie full fraught with diuersly working fancies, made their pillowes weake proppes of their ouer loaden heades. Yet of all other were Zelmanes braynes most tormoyled, troubled with loue both actiue and passiue; and lastely and especially with care, howe to vse her shorte limitted time, to the beste purpose, by some wise and happie diuerting her two louers vnwelcome desires. Zelmane hauing had the night her onely councellour in the busie enterprise shee was to vndertake, and hauing all that time mused, and yet not fully resolued, howe shee might ioyne preuailing with preuenting, was offēded with the daies bould entrie into her chamber, as if he had now by custome growne an assured bringer of euill newes. Which she taking a Citterne to her, did laye to Auroras chardge with these wel songe verses.
Aurora now thou shewst thy blushing light
(Which oft to hope laies out a guilefull baite,
That trusts in time, to finde the way aright
To ease those paines, which on desire do waite)
Blush on for shame: that still with thee do light
On pensiue soules (in steede of restfull baite)
Care vpon care (in steede of doing right)
To ouer pressed brestes, more greeuous waight.
As oh! my selfe, whose woes are neuer lighte
(Tide to the stake of doubt) strange passions baite,
While thy known course, obseruing natures right
Sturres me to thinke what dangers lye in waite.
For mischeefes greate, daye after day doth showe:
Make me still feare, thy faire appearing showe.
Alas said she, am not I runne into a strange gulfe, that am faine for loue to hurt her I loue? And because I detest the others, to please them I detest? O onely Philoclea, whose beautie is matched with nothing, but with the vnspeakeable beautie of thy fayrest minde, if thou didst see vpon what a racke my tormented soule is set, little would you thinke I had any scope now, to leape to any new chaunge, with that, with hastie hands she got her selfe vp turning her sight to euerie thinge, as if chaunge of obiecte might helpe her invention. So went she againe to the caue where forthwith it came into her head, that shoulde bee the fittest place to performe her exploite, of which she had now a kinde of confused conceipte, although she had not set downe in her fancie, the meeting with each particularitie that might fall out. But as the painter doth at the first but showe a rude proportion of the thing he imitates, which after with more curious hande, hee drawes to the representing each lineament. So had her thoughts beating about it continually, receaued into them a ground plot of her deuise, although she had not in each parte shapte it according to a full determination. But in this sorte hauing earelie visited the morninges beautie, in those pleasant desartes, she came to the King and Queene and tolde them, that for the performance of certaine her countrie deuotions, which onely were to be exercised in solitarines, shee did desire their leaue shee might for a fewe daies, lodge her selfe in the Caue, the fresh sweetnes of which did greately delight her, in that hot countrie; and that for that smal space, they would not otherwise trouble themselues in visiting her, but at such times as she would come to waite vpon them, which shoulde bee euerie daye at certaine houres, neither should it be long, shee would desire his priuiledged absence of them. They whose mindes had alredie taken out that lesson, perfectly to yeelde a willing obedience to all her desires, which consenting countenaunce made her soone see her pleasure was a lawe vnto them. Both indeede inwardlie glad of it, Basilius hoping that her deuiding her selfe from them, might yet giue him some freer occasion of comming in secrete vnto her, whose fauourable face, had lately strengthened his fainting courage. But Gynecia of all other most ioyous, holding her selfe assured that this was but a prologue to the play she had promised her. Thus both flattering them selues, with diuersly grounded hopes, they rang a bell which serued to call certaine poore women which euer lay in cabins not far off, to do the houshould seruices of both lodges, and neuer came to either but being called for: And commaunded them to carry foorthwith Zelmanes bed and furniture of her chamber, into the pleasaunt Caue; and to decke it vp as finelie, as it was possible for them, That their soules rest might rest her body to her best pleasing maner, that was with all diligence performed of them, and Zelmane alredie in possession of her newe chosen lodging, where she like one of Vestaes nunnes, entertaind herselfe for a fewe dayes in all showe of streightnes, yet once a day comming to doe her dutie to the King and Queene, in whom the seldomnes of the sight encreased the more vnquiet longing, though somwhat qualified, as her countenaunce was decked to either of them with more comforte then wonted. Especially to Gynecia who seing her wholy neglecting her daughter Philoclea, had now promisd her selfe a full possession of Zelmanes harte, still expecting the fruite, of the happie & hoped for inuention. But both she and Basilius kept such a continuall watch about the Precincts of the Caue, that either of them
was a bar to the other from hauing any secret, commoning with Zelmane. While in the meane time the sweete Philoclea forgotten of her father, despised of her mother, and in apparance lefte of Zelmane had yeelded vp her soule to be a pray to sorow and vnkindnes, not with raging conceite of reuenge as had passed thorow the stout and wise harte of her mother, but with a kindly meeknes taking vpon her the weight of her owne woes, and suffering them to haue so full a course as it did exceedinglie weaken the estate of her bodie, aswell for which cause as for that, shee could not see Zalmane, without expressing (more then shee woulde) how farr now her loue, was imprisoned in extremitie of sorrow, she bound her selfe first to the limits of her own chamber, and after, (griefe breeding sicknes) of her bed. But Zelmane hauing now a full libertie to cast about euery way, how to bring her conceaued attempt to a desired successe, was ofte so perplexed with the manifould difficultie of it, that sometimes she would resolue by force to take her a way, though it were with the death of her parents, somtimes to go away herself with Musidorus and bring both their forces, so to winne her. But lastly euen the same day that Musidorus by feeding the humor of his three loathsome gardiens, had stolne awaye the Princes Pamela (whether it were that loue ment to match them euerie waie, or that her friendes example had holpen her inuention, or that indeede Zelmane forbare to practise her deuise till she found her friend had passed through his.) The same daye, I saye, shee resolued on a way to rid out of the lodge her two combersome louers, and in the night to carrie away
Philoclea: where vnto shee was assured her owne loue, no lesse then her sisters, woulde easely winne her consent. Hoping that although their abrupt parting had not suffered her to demaund of Musidorus which way he ment to direct his iorney) yet either they should by some good fortune, finde him: or if that course fayled, yet they might well recouer some towne of the Helotes, neere the frontie
•
es of Arcadia,
who being newly againe vp in armes against the Nobilitie, shee knew would bee as glad of her presence, as she of their protection. Therefore hauing taken order for all thinges requisite for their going, and first put on a sleight vndersute of mans apparel, which before for such purposes she had prouided, she curiously trimmed her self to the beautif
•
ing of her beauties, that being now at her last triall, she might come vnto it in her brauest armour. And so putting on that kinde of milde countenaunce, which doth encourage the looker on to hope for a gentle answere, according to her late receaued maner, she lefte the pleasant darkenes of her melancholy caue, to goe take her dinner of the King and Queene, and giue vnto them both a pleasant foode of seing the owner of their desires. But euen as the Persians were aunciently wont, to leaue no rising Sun vnsaluted, but as his faire beames appeared clearer vnto thē wold they more hartely reioyce, laying vpō them a great fortoken, of their following fortunes: So was ther no time that Zelmane encoūtred their eies, with her beloued presence, but that it bred a kind of burning deuotiō in thē, yet so much the more glading their gredy soules, as her coūtenance were cleared with morefauour vnto thē, which now being determinatly framed to the greatest descēt of kindnesse, it took such hold of her infortunate louers, that like children aboute a tender father, from along voyage returned, with louely childishnes hange about him, and yet with simple feare measure by his countenance, how farr he acceptes their boldnes: So were these now throwne into so seruiceable an affection, that the turning of Zelmanes eye, was a strong sterne enough to all their motions, wending no way, but as the inchaunting force of it; guided them. But hauing made a light repaste of the pleasunt, fruites of that countrye, enterlarding their foode with such manner of generall
discourses, as louers are woont to couer their passions in, when respecte of a thirde person keepes them from plaine particulars, at the earnest entreatie of Basilius, Zelmane, first saluting the muses with a base voyal hong hard by her, sent this ambassade in versified musicke, to both her ill requited louers.
BEautie hath force to catche the humane sight.
Sight doth bewitch, the fancie euill awaked.
Fancie we feele, encludes all passions mighte,
Passion rebelde, oft re
•
sons strength hath shaked.
No wondre then, though sighte my sighte did tainte,
And though thereby my fancie was infected,
Though (yoked so) my minde with sicknes fainte,
Had reasons weight for passions ease reiected.
But now the fitt is past: and time hath giu'ne
Leasure to weigh what due deserte requireth.
All thoughts so spronge, are from their dwelling dri
•
'n,
And wisdome to his wonted seate aspireth.
Crying in me: eye hopes deceitefull proue.
Thinges rightelie prizde, loue is the bande of loue.
And after her songe with an affected modestie, shee threwe downe her eye, as if the conscience of a secret graunt her inward minde made, had sodainely cast a bashfull vaile ouer her. Which Basilius finding, and thinking now was the time, to vrge his painefull petition, beseeching his wife with more carefull eye to accompanie his sickly daughter Philoclea, being rid for that time of her, who was content to graunt him any scope, that she might after haue the like freedome, with a gesture gouerned by the force of his passions, making his knees his best supporters hee thus saide vnto her.
Yf either, said he, O Ladie of my life, my deadly pangues coulde beare delaye or that this were the first time the same were manifested vnto you, I woulde nowe but maintaine still the remembraunce of my misfortune, without vrging any further reward, then time and pittie might procure for me. But, alas, since my martirdome is no lesse painefull, then manifest, and that I no more feele the miserable daunger, then you know the assured trueth thereof: why shoulde my tonge deny his seruice to my harte? Why should I feare the breath of my words who daylie feele the flame of your workes? Embrace in sweete consideration I beseech you, the miserie of my Case, acknowledge your selfe to bee the cause, and thinke it is reason for you to redresse the effectes. Alas let not certaine imaginatife rules, whose trueth standes but vpon opinion, keepe so wise a mind from gratefulnes and mercie, whose neuer fayling laws nature hath planted in vs. I plainly lay my death vnto you, the death of him that loues you, the death of him whose life you maye saue, say your absolute determination, for hope it selfe is a paine, while it is ouer mastered with feare, and if you do resolue to be cruel, yet is the speediest condemnation, as in euills, most welcome. Zelmane who had fully set to her selfe the traine she would keepe, yet knowing that who soonest meanes to yeelde doth well to make the brauest parley, keeping countenaunce
alofte. Noble prince said she, your wordes are to well couched, to come out of a restlesse minde, and thanked be the Gods your face threatens no daunger of death. These are but those swelling speeches, which giue the vttermost name to euerie trifle, which all were worth nothinge, if they were not enammeled with the goodly outside of loue. Truely loue were verie vnlouely, if it were halfe fo deadly, as your louers (still liuing) tearme it I thinke well it may haue a certaine childish vehemencie, which for the time to one desire will engage al the soule, so long as it lasteth. But with what impacience you your selfe showe, who confesse the hope of it a paine, and thinke your owne desire so vnworthy, as you would faine bee ridd of it, and so with ouermuch loue sue hard for a hastie refusall. A refusall! (cried out Basilius,
amazed with al, but perced with the last) Now assure your self, when soeuer you vse that word diffinitiuely, it will be the vndoubted dome of my approching death. And then shall your owne experience knowe in mee, how soone the spirites dryed vp with anguish, leaue the performaunce of their ministerie, whereupon our life depēdeth. But alas what a crueltie is this, not only to tormēt but to think the tormēt slighte? The terriblest tirants would say by no man they killed, he dyed not, nor by no man they punished, that he escaped free, for of all other, ther is least hope of mercie where there is no acknowledging of the paine: and with like crueltie, are my wordes breathed out from a flamy harte, accompted as messingers of a quiet mind. If I speake nothing, I choake my selfe, and am in no way of reliefe: if simplye neglected: if confusedly not vnderstoode: if by the bending together all my inwarde powers, they bring forth any liuely expressing of that they truly feele, that is a token, forsooth, the thoughts are at too much leasure. Thus is silence desperate, follie punished, and witt suspected. But indeed it is vaine to say any more, for wordes can bind no beliefe. Lady, I say, determine of me, I must confesse I cannot beare this battell in my minde, and therefore let me soone know what I may accompt of my selfe, for it is a hell of dolours, when the mind still in doubt for want of resolution, can make no resistaunce.
In deed aunswered Zelmane, if I should graunt to your request, I should shew, an example in my selfe that I esteeme the holy bande of chastitie to bee but and Imaginatife rule, as you tearmed it: and not the truest obseruaunce of nature the moste noble commaundement that mankinde can haue ouer themselues, as indeede both learning teacheth, and inward feeling assureth. But first shal Zelmanes graue, become her marriage bedd, before my soule shall consent to his owne shame, before I will leaue a marke in my self of an vnredemable trespasse. And yet must I confesse that if euer my hart were sturred, it hath ben with the manifest & manifold shewes of the misery you liue in for me. For in trueth so it is, nature giues not to vs her degenerate children, any more general precepte, then one to helpe the other, one to feele a true compassion of the others mishappe. But yet if I were neuer so contented to speake with you, (for further neuer ô Basilius looke for at my hands) I know not howe you can auoyde your wiues iealous attendaunce, but that her suspicion shall bring my honour into question. Basilius whose small sailes the leaste winde did fill, was forth with as farre gonne into a large promising him selfe his desire, as before hee was striken downe with a threatned deuill. And therefore bending his browes as though he were not a man to take the matter as he had done, what saide hee, shall my wife become my misteris? Thinke you not that thus much time hath taught mee to rule her? I will mewe the gentlewoman till she haue cast all her feathers, if she rouse her
selfe against me. And with that he walked vp and downe, nodding his head, as though they mistooke him much that thought he was not his wiues maister. But Zelmane now seeing it was time to conclude, of your wisdome and manhood sayd she, I doubt not, but that sufficeth not me, for both they can hardly
•
ame a malicious toong, and impossibly barre the freedom of thought, which be the things that must be only witnesses, of honor, or iudges of dishonor. But that you may see I doo not set light your affection, if to night after your wife be assuredly asleepe, whereof by your loue I coniure you, to haue a most precise care, you will steale handsomely to the caue vnto me, there do I graunt you as great proportion as you will take of free conference with me, euer remembring you seeke no more,
•
or so shall you but deceyue your selfe, and for euer loose me. Basilius that was olde inough to know, that women are not wont to appoint secreat night meetings for the purchasing of land, holding himselfe alreadye an vndoubted possessour of his desires, kissing her hand, and lifting vp his eyes to heauen, as if the greatnes of the benefit did goe beyonde all measure of thankes, sayde no more, least sturring of more words, might bring forth some perhaps contrarye matter. In which traunce of ioye, Zelmane went from him, sayeng she would leaue him to the remembrance of their appoyntment, and for her she would goe visite the Ladie Philoclea, into whose chamber being come, keeping still her late taken on grauitie, and asking her how she did, rather in the way of dutifull honour, then any speciall affection, with extreeme inward anguish to them both, she turned from her, and taking the Queene Ginaecia, ledde her into a baye windowe of the same Chamber, determining in her selfe, not to vtter to so excellent a wit as Gynaecia had, the vttermost poynt of her pretended deuise, but to keepe the clause of it for the last instant, when the shortnes o
•
the time should not geue her spirits leasure to looke into all those doubts, that easily enter to an open inuention. But with smiling eyes, and with a deliuered ouer grace, fayning as much loue to her, as she did counterfeit loue to Philoclea, she began with more credible then eloquent speech to tell her, that with much consideracion of a matter so neerely importing her owne fancie, and Gynaecias honour, she had nowe concluded that the night following should be the fittest time for the ioyning together their seuerall desires, what time sleepe should perfectly do his office vpon the King her husband, and that the one should come to the other into the Caue. Which place, as it was the fyrst receipt of their promised loue, so it might haue the fyrst honour of the due performance. That the cause why those fewe dayes past, she had not sought the lyke, was, least the newe chaunge of her lodging, might make the Duke more apte to marke anye sodayne euent: which nowe the vse of it would take out of his minde. And therefore nowe, most excellent Ladie sayde she, there resteth nothing but that quicklie after supper, you trayne vp the King to visit his daughter Philoclea, and then fayning your selfe not well at ease, by your going to bedde, drawe him not long to be after you. In the meane time I will be gone home to my lodging, where I will attend you, with no lesse deuocion, but as I hope with better fortune, then Thisbe did the toomuch louing and toomuch loued Piramus. The blood that quicklie ca
•
e into Ginecias fayre face, was the only answeare she made, but that one might easily see, contentment and consent were both to the full in her; which she did testifie with the wringing Zelmane fast by the hand, cloasing her eyes, & letting her head fall, as if she would geue her to knowe, she was not ignorant of her fault, although she were
transported with the violence of her euill. But in this triple agreement did the daye seeme tedious of all sides, till his neuer erring course, had giuen place to the nightes succession: And the supper by eache hande hasted, was with no lesse speede ended, when Gynecia presenting a heauie sleepines in her countenance, brought vp both Basilius and Zelmane to see Philoclea still keeping her bedde, and farre more sicke in minde then bodye, and more greeued then comforted with any such visitacion. Thence Zelmane wishing easefull rest to Philoclea, did seeme to take that nightes leaue of this princely crewe, when Gynecia likewise seeming somewhat deseased, desired Basilius to stay a while with her daughter, while she rocommended her sicknes to her beds comfort, in deede desirous to determine agayne of the manner of her stealing away; to no lesse comfort to Basilius, who the sooner she was asleepe, the sooner hoped to come by his long pursued praye. Thus both were bent to deceaue each other, and to take the aduantage of either others disaduantage. But Gyneacia hauing taken Zelmane into her bed-chamber, to speake a little with her of their sweete determinacion: Zelmane vpon a sodaine (as though she had neuer thought of it before) Now the Gods forbid, sayde she, so great a Lady as you are should come to me: or that I should leaue it to the handes of fortune, if by eyther the ill gouerning of your passion, or your husbands sodayne waking, any daunger might happen vnto you. No, if there be any superioritie in the poyntes of true loue, it shall be yours: if there be any daunger, since my selfe am the author of this deuise, it is reason it should be mine. Therefore doo you but leaue with me the keyes of the gate, and vpon your selfe take my vpper garment, that if any of Damaetas house see you, they may thinke you to be my selfe, and I will presently lye downe in your place, so muffled for your supposed sicknes, as the King shall nothing knowe me. And then as soone as he is a sleepe, will I (as it much better becommes me) waite vpon you. But if the vttermost of mischiefes should happen, I can assure you the Kings life shall sooner pay for it, then your honour. And with the ending of her words, she threwe off her gowne, not geuing Gynaecia any space to take the full image of this newe chaunge into her fancie. But seeing no readye obiection against it in her heart, and knowing that there was no time then to stand long disputing; besides, remembring the geuer was to order the maner of his gift, yeelded quickly to this conceit, in deede not among the smallest causes, tickled therevnto by a certayne wanton desire, that her husbands deceipt might be the more notable. In this sort did Zelmane, nimbly disarayeng her selfe, possesse Gynaecias place, hiding her head in such a close manner, as grieuous and ouerwatched sicknesse in wont to inuite to itselfe the solace of sleepe. And of the other side the Queene putting on Zelmanes vtmost apparell, went fyrst into her closet, there quickly to beawtifie her selfe, with the best and sweetest night deckings. But there, casting an hastie eye ouer her precious things, which euer since Zelmanes comming, her head otherwise occupied had left vnseene, she hapned to see a bottle of golde, vpon which downe along were graued these verses:
Let him drinke this, whome long in armes to folde
Thou doest desire, and with free power to holde.
She remembred the bottle, for it had bene kept of long time by the Kings of Cyprus, as a thing of rare vertue, and giuen to her by her mother, when she being
very young maried to her husband of much greater age, her mother perswaded it was of propertie to force loue, with loue effects, had made a precious present of it to this her beloued child, though it had bene receiued rather by tradition to haue such a qualitie, then by any approued experiment. This Gynaecia, (according to the common disposition, not only (though especiallie) of wiues, but of all other kindes of people, not to esteeme much ones owne, but to thinke the labor lost employed about it) had neuer cared to geue to her husband, but suffred his affection to runne according to his owne scope. But now that loue of her particular choyse had awaked her spirits, and perchance the very vnlawfulnes of it had a litle blowne the coale: among her other ornaments with glad minde she tooke most part of this liquor, putting it into a faire cup, all set with diamonds: for what dares not loue vndertake armed with the night, and prouoked with lust? And thus downe she went to the Caue-ward, guyded only by the Moones faire shining, suffering no other thought to haue any familiaritie with her braines, but that which did present vnto her a picture of her approching contentment. She that had long disdayned this solitary life her husband had entred into, now wished it much more solitary, so she might only obtaine the priuate presence of Zelmane. She that before would not haue gone so farre, especially by night, and to so darke a place, now tooke a pride in the same courage, and framed in her minde a pleasure out of the payne it selfe. Thus with thicke doubled paces she went to the Caue, receyuing to her selfe, for her first contentment, the only lying where Zelmane had done: whose pillow she kist a thousand times, for hauing borne the print of that beloued head. And so keeping, with panting heart, her trauelling fancies so attentiue, that the winde could stirre nothing, but that she stirred herselfe, as if it had bene the pace of the longed-for
Zelmane, she kept her side of the bed; defending only and cherishing the other side with her arme, till after a while wayting, counting with her selfe how many steps were betwixt the Lodge and the Caue, and oft accusing Zelmane of more curious stay then needed, she was visited with an vnexpected guest.
For Basilius, after his wife was departed to her fayned repose, as long as he remayned with his daughter, to geue his wife time of vnreadying her selfe, it was easily seene it was a v
•
ry thorny abode he made there: and the discourses with which he entertayned his daughter, not vnlike to those of earnest players, when, in the middest of their game, trifling questions be put vnto them, his eyes still looking about, and himselfe still changing places, beginne to speake of a thing, and breake it off before it were halfe done. To any speach Philoclea ministred vnto him, with a sodayne starting, and casting vp his head, make an answere farre out of all Grammer: a certayne deepe musing, and by and by out of it: vncertayne motions, vnstayed graces. Hauing borne out the limit of a reasonable time with as much payne as might be, he came darkeling into his chamber, forcing himselfe to treade as softly as he coulde. But the more curious he was, the more he thought euery thing creaked vnder him: and his minde being out of the way with another thought, and his eyes not seruing his turne in that darke place, each Coffer or Cupbord he met, one saluted his shinnes, another his elbowes: sometimes ready in reuenge to strike them agayne with his face. Till at length, fearing his wife were not fully asleepe, he came lifting vp the cloathes, as gently as (I thinke) poore Pan did, when, in stead of Ioles bedde, he came into the rough imbracings of Hercules: and laying himselfe downe, as tenderly as a new Bride, rested a while
with a very open eare, to marke each breath of his supposed wife. And sometimes he himselfe would yeeld a long fetched sigh, as though that had bene a musike to drawe one another to sleepe, till within a very little while, with the other parties well counterfeyt sleepe (who was as willing to be rid of him, as he was to be gone thence) assuring himselfe he left all safe there, in the same order stale out agayne, and putting on his night gowne, with much groping and scrambling, he gate himselfe out of the little house, and then did the Moone-light serue to guide his feete. Thus with a great deale of payne, did Basilius goe to her whome he fledde, and with much cunning left the person for whome he had employed all his cunning. But when Basilius was once gotten (as he thought) into a cleare coast what ioye he then made, how each thing seemed vile in his sight, in comparison of his fortune, how farre already he deemed himselfe in the chiefe tower of his desires, it were tedious to tell: once his heart could not choose but yeeld this song, as a fayring of his contentment.
GEt hence foule Griefe, the canker of the minde:
Farewell Complaint, the misers only pleasure:
Away vayne Cares, by which fewe men do finde
Their sought-for treasure.
Ye helplesse Sighes, blowe out your breath to nought,
Teares, drowne your selues, for woe (your cause) is wasted,
Thought, thinke to ende, too long the frute of thought
My minde hath tasted.
But thou, sure Hope, tickle my leaping heart.
Comfort, step thou in place of wonted sadnes.
Fore-felt Desire, begin to sauour parts
Of comming gladnes.
Let voice of Sighes into cleare musike runne,
Eyes, let your Teares with gazing now be mended,
In stede of Thought, true pleasure be begunne,
And neuer ended.
Thus imagining as then with himselfe, his ioyes so held him vp, that he neuer touched ground. And, like a right olde beaten souldiour, that knewe well enough the greatest Captaynes do neuer vse long Orations, when it commes to the very point of execution, as soone as he was gotten into the Caue, and to the ioyfull (though silent) expectation of Gynaecia, come close to the bed, neuer recking his promise to looke for nothing but conference, he lept into that side reserued for a more welcome guest. And layeng his louingest hold vpon Gynaecia: O Zelmane, sayd he, embrace in your fauor this humble seruant of yours: hold within me my heart, which pantes to leaue his maister to come vnto you. In what case poore Gynaecia was, when she knewe the voyce, and felt the bodie of her husband, faire Ladies, it is better to knowe by imagination then experience. For straight was her minde assaulted, partly with the being depriued of her vnquenched desire, but principallie
with the doubt that Zelmane had betrayed her to her husband, besides the renewed sting of iealosie, what in the meane time might befall her daughter. But of the other side, her loue, with a fixed perswasion she had, taught her to seeke all reason of hopes. And therein thought best before discouering of her selfe, to marke the behauiour of her husband; who, both in deedes and wordes still vsing her, as taking her to be Zelmane, made Gynaecia hope that this might be Basilius owne enterprise, which Zelmane had not stayed, least she should discouer the matter which might be perfourmed at another time. Which hope accompanyed with Basilius maner of dealing, (he being at that time fuller of liuelier fancies, then many yeares before he had bene) besides the remembrance of her daughters sicknesse, and late strange countenance betwixt her & Zelmane, all comming together into her mind, which was loth to condemne it selfe of an vtter ouerthrow, made her frame her selfe, not truly with a sugred ioye, but with a determinate patience to let her husband thinke he had found a very gentle and supple-minded Zelmane; which he good man making full reckening of, did melt in as much gladnesse as she was oppressed with diuers vngratefull burthens.
But Pyrocles who had at this present no more to play the part of Zelmane, hauing so naturally measured the maner of his breathing, that Basilius made no doubt of his sounde sleeping, and layne a preatie while with a quiet vnquietnes to perfourme his entended enterprise, as soone as by the debate betwixt Basilius shinnes and the vnregarding fourmes he perceiued that he had fully left the Lodge: after him went he with stealing steps, hauing his sword vnder his arme (still doubting least some mischance might turne Basilius backe againe) downe to the gate of the Lodge. Which not content to locke fast, he barred and fortified with as many deuises, as his wit and haste would suffer him, that so he might haue full time both for making readye Philoclea, and conueying her to her horse, before any might come in to finde them missing. For further endes of those endes, and what might ensue of this action, his loue and courage well matched neuer looked after, houlding for an assured grounde, that whosoeuer in great things will thinke to preuent all obiections, must lye still, and doo nothing. This determination thus wayed, the first part thus perfourmed, vp to Philocleas chamber dore went Pyrocles, rapt from himselfe with the excessiue fore-feeling of his (as he assured himselfe) neere comming contentment. What euer paynes he had taken, what daungers he had runne into, and especially those sawcy pages of loue, doubts, griefes, languishing hopes, and threatning despayres, came all now to his minde, in one ranke to beawtifye his expected blisfulnesse, and to serue for a most fit sawce, whose sourenesse might giue a kinde of life to the delightfull cheare his imagination fed vpon. All the great estate of his father, all his owne glorie, seemed vnto him but a trifling pompe, whose good stands in other mens conceit, in cōparison of the true comfort he found in the depth of his mind, and the knowledge of any miserie that might ensue this ioyous aduenture, was recked of but as a slight purchase of possessing the top of happines, for so farre were his thoughts past through all perils, that alreadie he conceyued himselfe safelie arriued with his Ladie at the stately pallace of Pella, among the exceeding ioyes of his father, and infinite congratulacions of his frends, geuing order for the royall entertayning of Philoclea, and for sumptuous shewes and triumphes against their mariage. In the thought wherof as he found extremity of ioy, so well found he that extremitie is not without a certayne ioyfull paine,
by extending the heart beyond his wonted limits, and by so forcible a holding all the senses to one obiect, that it confounds their mutuall working, not without a charming kinde of rauishing them, from the free vse of their owne function. Thus grieued only with too much gladnes, being come to the doore, which should be the entrie to his happines, he was met with the latter end of a song, which Philoclea
like a solitarie Nightingale, bewayling her guiltlesse punishment, and helplesse misfortune, had newly deliuered ouer, meaning none should be iudge of her passiō, but her owne conscience. The song hauing bene accorded to a sweetly playde on Lute, conteyned these verses, which she had lately with some arte curiously written, to enwrap her secret and resolute woes.
VErtue1, beawtie2, and speach3, did strike1, wound2, charme3,
My harte1, eyes2, eares3, with wonder1, loue2, delight3:
First1, second2, last3, did binde1, enforce2, and arme3,
His workes1, showes2, suites3, with wit1, grace2, and vow's3 might.
Thus honour1, liking2, trust3, much1, farre2, and deepe3,
Held1, pearst2, possest3, my iudgement1, sence2, and will3,
Till wrong1, contempt2, deceipt3, did growe1, steale2, creepe3,
Bandes1, fauour2, faith3, to breake1, defile2, and kill3.
Then greefe1, vnkindnes2, proofe3, tooke1, kindled2, tought3,
Well1 grounded, noble2, due3, spite1, rage2, disdaine3,
But1 ah2, alas3! (In vayne) my minde1, sight2, thought3,
Doth him1, his face2, his words3, leaue1, shunne2, refraine3,
For no thing1, time2, nor place3, can loose1, quench2, ease3,
Nine owne1, embraced2, sought3, knot1, fire2, desease3.
The force of loue to those poore folke that feele it, is many wayes very strange, but no way stranger, then that it doth so enchaine the louers iudgement vpon her that holdes the raines of his minde, that what soeuer she doth is euer in his eyes best. And that best, being by the continuall motion of our changing life, turned by her to any other thing, that thing againe becommeth best. So that nature in each kinde suffring but one superlatiue, the louer only admits no positiue. If she sit still, that is best, for so is the conspiracie of her seuerall graces held best together to make one perfect figure of beawtie. If she walke, no doubt that is best, for besides the making happie the more places by her steps, the very sturring addes a pleasing life to her natiue perfectiōs. If she be silent, that without comparison is best, since by that meanes the vntroubled eye, most freely may deuoure the sweetnes of his obiect. But if she speake, he will take it vpon his death that is best, the quintessence of each worde, beeing distilled downe into his affected soule. Example of this was well to be
seene in the giuen ouer Pyrocles, who with panting breath, and somtime sighes, not such as sorrowe restrayning the inwarde partes doth make them glad to deliuer, but such as the impacience of delay, with the vnsuretie of neuer so sure hope, is wont to breath out nowe being at the doore, of the one side, hearing her voice, which hee thought if the Philosophers said true of the heauenly seuen sphered harmony, was by her not only represented, but farre surmounted, and of the other hauing his eyes ouerfilled with her beautie, (for the King at his parting had left the chamber open, and she at that time laye, as the heate of that countrie did wel suffer, vpon the toppe of her bedd, hauing her beauties eclipsed with nothing but with a faire smock, wrought al in flames of ash-coullour silke and golde, lying so vpō her right side, that the left thigh downe to the foote, yeelded his delightfull proportion to the full vew which was seene by the helpe of a ritche lampe, which thorowe the curtaines a little drawne caste forth a light vpon her, as the moone doth when it shines into a thinne wood) Pyrocles I saye was stopped with the violence of so many dartes, cast by Cupid
altogether vpon him, that quite forgetting him selfe, and thinking therein alreadie he was in the best degree of felicitie, he would haue lost much of his time, and with too much loue omitted the enterprise vndertaken for his loue, had not Philocleas pittifull accusing of him forced him to bring his spirites againe, to a newe bias, for shee laying her hand vnder her faire cheek, vpon which there did priuilie tickle the sweet droppes of her delightfull though sorrowfull teares, made these wordes waite vpon her monefull songe. And hath that cruell Pyrocles saide shee, deserued thus much of me, that I should for his sake lift vp my voice in my best tunes, and to him continually, with powring out my plainte, make a di
•
dayned oblacion? Shall my soule still doe this honour to his vnmercyfull tirranie, by my lamenting his losse, to show his worthines and my weakenes? He heares thee not simple Philoclea, he heares thee not; and if he did, some hartes grow the harder, the more they find their aduantage. Alas what a miserable constitution of minde haue I! I disdaine my fortune, and yet reuerence him that disdaines me. I accuse his vngratefulnes, and haue his vertue in admiration. O yee deafe heauens, I would either his iniury could blot out myne affection, or my affection could forget his iniury. With that geuing a pittiful but sweet shriche, shee tooke againe the lute, and beganne to sing this sonnet which might serue as an explaining to the other:
THe loue which is imprinted in my soule
With beauties seale, and vertue faire disguis'de,
With inward cries putts vp a bitter role
Of huge complaintes, that now it is despis'de.
Thus thus the more I loue, the wronge the more
Monstrous appeares, long trueth receaued late,
Wrong sturres remorsed greefe, griefes deadly sore
Vnkindnes breedes, vnkindnes fostreth hath.
But ah the more I hate, the more I thinke
Whome I doe hate, the more I thinke on him,
The more his matchlesse giftes do deepely sinck
Into my breste, and loues renewed swimme.
What medicin then, can such desease remoue
Where loue draws hate, and hate engendreth loue?
But Pyrocles that had heard his name accused, & cōdemned by the mouth which of all the world, and more then all the world
•
he most loued: had then cause enough to call his minde to his home, and with the most haste he could (for true loue feares the accident of an instant) to match the excusing of his faulte, with declaration of his arrand thither. And therefore blowne vp & downe with as many contrary passions, as AEolus sent out windes vpon the troian reliques, guided vpon the sea by the valiant AEneas, hee went into her chamber with such a pace as reuerent feare doth teach, where kneeling downe, and hauing prepared a long discourse for her, his eies were so filled with her sight that as if they woulde haue robbed all their fellowes of their seruices, both his hart fainted, and his toung fayled in such sorte, that he could not bring forth one word, but referred her vnderstanding to his eyes language. But she in extremitie amazed to see him there, at so vndue a season, & ashamed that her beautifull body made so naked a prospect, drawing in her delicate lims into the weake guard of the bedd, and presenting in her face to him such a kinde of pittifull anger, as might shew, this was only a fault, therfore because she had a former grudge vnto him, turning away her face from him she thus said vnto him: O Zelmane or Pyrocles, (for whether name I vse it much skils not, by the one I was first deceiued, & by the other now betrayed) what strange motion is the guide of thy cruel mind hither? Dost thou not thinke the day torments thou hast giuen me sufficient, but that thou doest enuie me the nights quiet? Wilt thou giue my sorrowes no truce, but by making me see before mine eyes how much I haue lost, offer me due cause of cōfirming my plainte? Or is thy hart so full of rancour, that thou dost desire to feede thine eyes with the wretched spectacle of thine ouerthrowen enemie, and so to satisfie the full measure of thy vndeserued rage, with the receuing into thy sight the vnreleuable ruines of my desolate life? O Pyrocles, Pyrocles for thine own vertues sake, let miseries be no musique vnto thee, & be content to take to thy selfe some coloure of excuse, that thou didest not knowe to what extremitie thy inconstancie, or rather falshood hath brought me. Pyrocles to whom euery sillable she pronounced, was a thunderboult to his hart, equally distraught betwixt amasement & sorow, abashed to se such a stop of his desires, greued with her paine, but tormēted to find himself the author of it, with quaking lips, & pale cheere, alas diuine Lady said he, your displeasure is so contrary to my deserte, & your words so farre beyond all expectatiōs, that I haue least abilitie now I haue most need, to speake in the cause vpō which my life dependeth. For my troth is so vndoubtedly cōstāt vnto you, my hart is so assured a witnes to it self, of his vnspotted faith, that hauing no one thing in me, wherout any such sacriledg might arise, I haue likewise nothing in so direct a thing to say for my selfe, but sincere & vehemēt protestatiōs, for in truth, there may most words be spent, where there is some probabilitie, to breed of both sids cōiectural allegatiōs. But so perfect a thing as my loue is of you, as it suffers no questiō, so it semes to receiue iniurie by additiō of any words vnto it. Yf my soule could haue ben polluted with treachery, it woulde likewise haue prouided for itself, due furniture of coullourable answeres, but as it should vpō the naked cōscience of his vntouched dutie, so I must cōfes it is altogether vnarmed against so vniust a violēce as you lay vpō me, alas! let not the paines I haue takē
to serue you, be now accoūted iniurious vnto you, let not the dāgerous cūning I haue vsed to pleasure you be demed a treasō against you, since I haue deceued thē whom
you feare for your sake, doe not you destroye mee for their sake what can I without you further doe? Or to what more forwardnes can any counsell bring our desired happines? I haue prouided whatsoeuer is needfull for our going, I haue rid them both out of the lodge, so that there is none here to bee hinderers or knowers of our departure, but only the almightie powers, whom I inuoke as triers of mine innocencie and witnesses of my wel meaning. And if euer my thoughts did receiue so much as a fainting in their affections: if they haue not continually with more and more ardoure, from time to time pursued the possession of your sweetest fauour; if euer in that possession they receaued either spott, or falshoode: Then let their most horrible plagues fall vpon me, let mine eyes be depriued of the light which did abase the heauenly beames that strake them, let my falsified toung serue to no vse but to bee more mine owne wretchednes, let my harte empoysoned with detestable treason, be the seate of infernall sorrowe, let my soule with the endles anguish of his conscience become his owne tormentor. O false mankind cried out the sweete Philoclea.
How can an impostumed heart, but yeelde forth euill matter by his mouth? Are oathes there to be belieued, where vowes are broken? No no, who doth wounde the eternall iustice of the Gods, cares little for abusing their names: and who in doing wickedly doth not feare due recompencing plagues, doth little feare that inuoking of plagues, will make them come euer a whit the
•
ooner. But alas what ayleth this new conuersation, haue you yet another sleight to playe, or doe you think to deceaue me in Pyrocles forme, as you haue done in Zelmanes? Or rather now you haue betrayed me in both, is some third sex left you, into which you can transforme your selfe to inueigle my simplicitie? Enioye, enioye the conquest you haue already wone: and assure your selfe you are come to the farthest pointe of your cunning. For my parte vnkinde Pyrocles, my only defence shalbe beleefe of nothing, my comforte my faithfull innocencie, and the punishment I desire of you shalbe your owne conscience. Philocleas hard perseuering in this vniust condemnation of him, did so ouerthrowe all the might of Pyrocles minde (who saw that time woulde not serue to proue by deedes, and that the better wordes he vsed, the more they were suspected of deceiptfull cunning.) That voide of all counsell, and depriued of all comforte, finding best desertes punished, and nearest hopes preuented, hee did abandon the succour of himselfe, and suffered griefe so to close his harte, that his breath fayling him, with a deathfull shutting off his eyes hee fell downe at her bedside, hauing had time to say no more, but oh whom doest thou kil Philoclea? She that litle looked for such an extreame euent of her doinges, starte out of her bedd, like Venus rising from her mother the sea, not so much striken downe with amazement, and griefe of her faulte, as lifted vp with the force of loue and desire to helpe, she laide her faire body ouer his brest, and throwing no other water in his face, but the streame of her teares nor giuing him other blowes but the kissing of her welformed mouth, her onely cries were these lamentations: O vnfortunate suspicion, saide shee, the very meane to loose that we most suspect to loose. O vnkind kindnesse of mine, which returnes an imagined wrong with an effectuall iniury. O foole to make quarell my supplication or to vse hate as the mediator of loue, childish Philoclea, had thou throwne away the Iewell wherein all thy pride consisted? Hast thou with too much hast ouerrun thy selfe? Then would she renew her kisses: O yet not finding the life retourne, redouble her plaintes in this manner: O diuine soule, saide she, whose vertue can possesse no lesse then the highest place in heauen, if for mine eternall plague, thou haste
vtterly lefte this most sweet mansion, before I follow thee with Thisbes punishment for my rashe vnwarinesse, heare this protestation of mine: That as the wrong I haue done thee proceeded of a most sincere, but vnresistable affection: so led with this pittifull example it shall ende in the mortall hate of my selfe, and (if it may be) I will make my soule a tombe of thy memory. At that worde with anguish of minde and weakenes of body encreased one by the other, and both augmented by this feareful accident, she had falne downe in a sounde: but that Pyrocles then first seuering his eye liddes, and quickly apprehending her daunger, to him more then death, beyond all powers striuing to recouer the commaundement of al his powers, staied her from falling: and then, lifting the sweet burthen of her body in his armes, laid her againe in her bedd. So that she, but then the Physition, was nowe become the pacient: & he, to whom her weaknesse had bene seruiceable, was now enforced to do seruice to her weaknesse, which performed by him with that hartie care, which the most carefull loue on the best loued subiect in greatest extremitie could employ, preuailed so farre, that ere long shee was able (though in strength exceedingly deiected) to call home her wandering senses, to yeelde attention to that her beloued Pyrocles had to deliuer. But he lying downe on the bed by her, holding her hand in his, with so kind an accusing her of vnkindnes, as in accusing her he condemned himself, began from pointe to pointe to discouer vnto her all that had passed betwene his loathed louers & him. How he had entertained, & by entertaining deceiued, both Basilius & Gynecia: & that with such a kind of deceipt, as either might see the cause in the other but neither espie the effect in themselues. That al his fauors to thē had tended only to make them strangers to this his actiō: & al his strangnes to her to the final obtaining of her long promised, & now to be perfourmed fauour. Which deuise seing it had so well succeeded to the remouing all other hinderances, that only her resolutiō remained for the taking their happy iournie, he coniured her by al the loue she had euer borne him, shee would make no longer delay to partake with him whatsoeuer honors the noble kingdōe of Macedon, & al other Euarchus dominiōs might yeeld him, especially since in this enterprise he had now waded so farr, as he could not possibly retire himself back, without being ouerwhelmed with daūger & dishōour. He neded not haue vsed further arguments of perswasiō: for that only coniuratiō had so forcibly bound all her spirits, that could her body haue secōded her mind, or her mind haue strengthened her body, without respect of any worldly thing, but only feare to be againe vnkind to Pyrocles, she had condiscended to goe with him. But raising her selfe a litle in her bed, & finding her own vnabilitie in any sorte to endure the aire: My Pyrocles
said she (with tearefull eyes & a pittifull coūtenance, such as well witnessed she had no will to deny any thing she had power to performe) if you can conuey me hence in such plight as you see me; I am most willing to make my
•
xtreamest daūger a testimonie, that I esteme no daūger in regard of your vertuous satisfaction. But if shee fainted so faste, that she was not able to vtter the rest of her conceiued speech: which also turned Pyrocles thoughts from expecting further answere, to the necessary care of reuiuing her, in whose fainting himself was more thē ouerthrown. And that hauing effected with al the sweet meās his wits could deuise, though his highest hopes were by this vnexpected downfall sunke deeper thē any degree of dispaire: yet lest the appearāce of his inward grief might occasiō her further discōfort, hauing racked his face to a more cōfortable semblāce, he sought some shew of reason, to shew shee had no reason, either for him, or for her selfe so to be aflicted. Which in the sweete minded Philoclea, whose consideration was limited by his wordes, and whose
conceite pearced no deeper then his outwarde countenaunce, wrought within a while such quietnesse of mind, and that quietnesse againe such repose of bodie, that slepe by his harbingers weakenesse, wearines, and watchfulnes, had quickly taken vp his lodging in all her senses. Then indeed had Pyrocles leasure to sit in iudgement on himselfe, and to heare his reason accuse his rashnes, who, without forecaste of doubte, without knowledge of his friende, without acquainting Philoclea with his purpose or being made acquainted with her present estate, had falne headlong into that attempt, the successe whereof hee had long since set downe to himselfe as the measure of all his other fortunes. But calling to minde howe weakely they do that rather finde faulte with what cannot be amended, then seek to amend wherein they haue beene faultie: he soone turned him from remembring what might haue beene done to considering what was now to be done, and when that consideration fayled what was now to be expected. Wherein hauing runne ouer all the thoughts, his reason called to the strictest accountes could bring before him, at length he lighted on this: That as long as Gynecia bewraied not the matter (which he thought she woulde not doe, aswell for her owne honour and safetie, as for the hope she might stil haue of him, which is loth to die in a louers hart) all the rest might turne to a preatie meryment, and enflame his louer Basilius, againe to cast aboute for the missed fauour. And as naturally the harte stuffed vp with wofulnes is glad greedelie to sucke the thinnest aire of comforte: so did hee, at the first, embrace this conceite as offeringe great hope, if not assurance of well doing. Till looking more neerely into it, and not able to answere the doubts and difficulties he sawe therein more and more arising the night being also farre spent, his thoughtes euen wearie of their owne burthens, fell to a straying kind of vncertaintie: and his minde standing onely vpon the nature of inward intelligences lefte his bodie to giue a sleeping respite to his vitall spirites, which he, according to the qualitie of Sorrow, receiued with greater greedines then euer in his life before. According to the nature of sorrow, I say, which is past cares remedie. For care sturring the braines, and making thinne the spirites breaketh rest: but those griefes wherein one is determined there is no preuenting, do brede a dull heauinesse which easely clothes it selfe in sleepe. So as laid downe so neare the beautie of the worlde Philoclea, that their neckes were subiect each to others chaste embracements, it seemed loue had come thither to laye a plott in that picture of death how gladly, if death came, their soules would goe together.
The thirde Egloges.
THyrsis not with many painted words nor falsified promises, had wone the consent of his beloued Kala, but with a true & simple making her know he loued her not forcing himselfe beyond his reach to buy her affection, but giuing her such preatie presentes, as neither coulde wearie him with the giuing, nor shame her for the taking. Thus the first Strawberies he could find, were euer in a cleane washt dish sent to Kala thus poesies of the spring flowers were wrapt vp in a litle grene silke and dedicated to Kalas brestes, thus somtimes his sweetest Creame, sometimes the best Cakebread his mother made, were reserued for Kalas taste. Neither would hee stick to kil a lamb when she would be content to come ouer the way vnto him. But thē lo, how the house was swept & rather no fire thē any smoke lefte to trouble her. Then loue songes were not daintie, when she would heare them, and as much manerlie
silence when shee would not: in going to Church great worship to Kala. So that all the parish said, neuer a maide they knew so well wayted on: and when dauncing was about the Maypole, no body taken out but she, and he after a leape or two to shewe her his owne actiuitie, woulde frame all the rest of his dauncing, onely to grace her. As for her fathers sheepe, he had no lesse care of them then his owne: so that she might play her as she would, warranted with honest Thyrsis carefulnes. But if he spied Kala fauourd any one of the flocke more then his fellowes, then that was cherished: shearing him so (when shorne he must be) as might most become him: but while the wole was on, wrapping within it
••
me verses, wherin Thyrsis had a speciall gifte, and making the innocent beast his vnweting messinger. Thus constantly continuing, though he were none of the fayrest, at length he wanne Kalas harte, the honestest wenche in all those quarters. And so with consent of both parents (without which nether Thyrsis would aske, nor Kala grant) their marring day was appointed, which because it fell out in this time, I thinke it shall not be impertinent, to remember a little our shepheards, while the other greater persons, are either sleeping or otherwise troubled. Thyrsis mariage time once knowne, there needed no inuiting of the neighbours in that valley, for so well was Thyrsis beloued, that they were already to doe him credit, neither yet came they like Harpies to deuoure him: but on bought a fat pigge, the other a tender kidd, the thirde a great goose: as for chese, milke, & butter, were the gossips presents. Thither came of strange shepheards onely the melancholy Philisides,
•
or the vertuous Coridon had long since left off al his ioyful solemnities. And as for Strephon and Klaius, they had lost their mistresse, which put them into such extreme sorrowes as they could scarcely abide the light of the daye, much lesse the eyes of men. But of the Arcadian borne shepheardes, thither came good olde Geron, young Histor, though vnwilling, and vpright Dicus, mery Pass and iolly Nico. As for Damaetas they durst not presume (his pride was such) to inuite him: and Dorus they founde might not bee spared. And there vnder a bower was made of bowes (for Thyrsis house was not able to receaue them) euery one placed according to his age. The women (for such was the maner of the country) kept together to make good cheare among themselues, from which otherwise a certaine painefull modestie restraines them, and there might the sadder matrones giue good counsel to Kala: who poore soule wept for feare of that she desired. But among the shepheards was al honest libertie, no feare of daungerous tel-tales, who hunt greater prayes, nor indeede mindes in them to giue tell-tales any occasion; but one questioning with another of the manuring his ground, and gouerning his flock, the highest pointe they reached to was to talke of the holines of mariage, to which purpose assoone as their sober dynner was ended, Dycus insteede of thankes, sange this songe with a cleare voice and cheerfull countenaunce.
LEt mother earth now decke her selfe in flowers,
To see her ofspring seeke a good increase,
Where iustest loue doth vanquish Cupids powers
And ware of thoughts is swallow'd vp in peace
Which neuer may decrease
But like the turtells faire
Liue one in two, a well vnited paire,
Which that no chaunce may staine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
O heau'n awake shewe forth thy stately face,
Let not these slumbring clowds thy beawties hide,
But with thy cheerefull presence helpe to grace
The honest Bridegroome, and the bashfull Bride,
Whose loues may euer bide,
Like to the Elme and Vyne,
With mutuall embracements them to twyne:
In which delightfull paine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
Yee Muses all which chaste affects allow,
And haue to Thyrsis shewd your secret skill,
To this chaste loue your sacred fauours bow,
And so to him and her your giftes distill,
That they all vice may kill:
And like to lillies pure
May please all eyes, and spotlesse may endure.
Where that all blisse may raigne,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
Yee Nymphes which in the waters empire haue,
Since Thyrsis musick oft doth yeeld you praise,
Graunt to the thing which we for Thyrsis craue.
Let one time (but long first) close vp their daies,
One graue their bodies seaze:
And like two riuers sweete,
When they though diuers do together meete:
One streame both streames containe,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
Pan, father Pan, the god of silly sheepe,
Whose care is cause that they in number growe,
Haue much more care of them that them do keepe,
Since from these good the others good doth flowe,
And make their issue showe
In number like the hearde
Of yonglings, which thy selfe with loue hast rearde.
Or like the drops of raine.
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
Vertue (if not a God) yet Gods chiefe parte,
Be thou the knot of this their open vowe,
That still he be her head, she be his harte,
He leane to her, she vnto him do bow:
Each other still allow:
Like Oke and Mistletoe.
Her strength from him, his praise from her do growe.
In which most louely traine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
But thou foule Cupid syre to lawlesse lust,
Be thou farre hence with thy empoyson'd darte,
Which though of glittring golde, shall heere take rust
Where simple loue, which chastnesse doth imparte,
Auoydes thy hurtfull arte,
Not needing charming skill,
Such mindes with sweet affections for to fill,
Which being pure and plaine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
All churlish wordes, shrewd answeres, crabbed lookes,
All priuatenes, selfe-seeking, inward spite,
All waywardnes, which nothing kindly brookes,
All strife for toyes, and clayming masters right:
Be hence aye put to flight,
All sturring husbands hate
Gainst neighbors good for womanish debate
Be fled as things most vaine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
All peacock pride, and fruites of peacocks pride
Longing to be with losse of substance gay
With retchlesnes what may thy house b
•
tide,
So that you may on hyer slippers stay
For euer hence awaye:
Yet let not sluttery,
The sinke of filth, be counted huswifery:
But keeping holesome meane,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
But aboue all away vile iealousie,
The euill of euils iust cause to be vniust,
(How can he loue suspecting treacherie?
How can she loue where loue cannot win trust?)
Goe snake hide thee in dust,
Ne dare once shew thy face,
Where open hartes do holde so constant place,
That they thy sting restraine,
O Himen long their coupled ioyes maintaine.
The earth is deckt with flowers, the heau'ns displaid,
Muses graunt guiftes, Nymphes long and ioyned life,
Pan store of babes, vertue their thoughts well staid,
Cupids lust gone, and gone is bitter strife,
Happy man, happy wife.
No pride shall them oppresse,
Nor yet shall yeeld to loathsome sluttishnes,
And iealousie is slaine:
For Himen will their coupled ioyes maintaine.
Truly Dicus, sayd Nico, although thou didst not graunt me the price the last day, when vndoubtedly I wan it, yet must I needes say, thou for thy parte hast soong well and thriftelie. Pas straight desired all the companie they would beare witnes, that Nico had once in his life spoken wisely; for sayde he, I will tell it his father, who will be a glad man when he heares such newes. Very true, sayd Nico,
but indeede so would not thine in like case, for he would looke thou shouldest liue but one houre longer, that a discreate word wandred out of thy mouth. And I pray thee (sayd Pas) gentle Nico, tell me what mischaunce it was that brought thee to taste so fine a meate? Mary goodman blockhead sayde Nico, because hee speakes against iealousie, the filthie traytor to true affection, and yet disguising it selfe in the rayment of loue. Sentences, Sentences, cried Pas. Alas howe ripe witted these young folkes be now adayes! But well counselled shall that husband be, when this man commes to exhort him not to be iealous. And so shall he, aunswered Nico, for I haue seene a fresh example, though it be not very fit to be knowen. Come, come, sayde Pas, be not so squeamish, I knowe thou longest more to tell it, then we to heare it. But for all his wordes Nico would not bestowe his voyce till he was generally entreated of all the rest. And then with a merry marriage looke, he sang this following discourse, for with a better grace he could sing then tell.
A Neighbor mine not long agoe there was,
(But namelesse he, for blamelesse he shall be)
That married had a trick and bonny lasse
As in a sommer day a man might see:
But he himselfe a foule vnhansome groome,
And farre vnfit to hold so good a roome.
Now whether mou'd with selfe vnworthines,
Or with her beawtie fit to make a pray,
Fell iealousie did so his braine oppresse,
That if he absent were but halfe a day,
He gest the worst (you wot what is the worst)
And in himselfe new doubting causes nurst.
While thus he fear'd the silly innocent,
Who yet was good, because she knewe none ill,
Vnto his house a iollie shepeheard went,
To whome our prince did beare a great good will,
Because in wrestling and in pastorall
He farre did passe the rest of Shepheards all.
And therefore he a courtier was benamed,
And as a courtier was with cheere receaued,
(For they haue toongs to make a poore man blamed.
If he to them his dutie misconceaued)
And for this Courtier should well like his table,
The goodman bad his wife be seruiceable.
And so she was, and all with good intent,
But fewe dayes past while she good maner vs'de,
But that her husband thought her seruice bent
To such an end as he might be abus'de.
Yet like a coward fearing strangers pride,
He made the simple wench his wrath abide.
With chumpish lookes, hard words, and secret nips,
Grumbling at her when she his kindnes sought,
Asking her how she tasted Courtiers lips,
He forst her thinke that which she neuer thought.
In fine he made her gesse, there was some sweet
In that which he so fear'd that she should meet.
When once this entred was, in womans hart,
And that it had enflam'd a new desire,
There rested then, to play a womans part,
Fuell to seeke and not to quench the fire:
But (for his iealous eye she well did finde)
She studied cunning how the same to blinde.
And thus she did. One day to him she came,
And (though against his will) on him she leand,
And out gan cry, ah well away for shame,
If you helpe not our wedlocke will be staind,
The goodman starting, askt what did her moue?
She sigh'd and sayd, the bad guest sought her loue.
He little looking that she should complaine
Of that, whereto he feard she was enclinde,
Bussing her oft, and in his hart full faine,
He did demaunde what remedy to finde;
How they might get that guest, from them to wend,
And yet the prince (that lou'd him) not offend.
Husband, quoth she, go to him by and by,
And tell him you do finde I doo him loue,
And therefore pray him that of courtesie
He will absent himselfe, least he should moue
A young girles hart, to that were shame for both,
Whereto you knowe, his honest harte were loath.
Thus shall you show that him you do not doubt,
And as for me (sweete husband) I must beare.
Glad was the man when he had heard her out,
And did the same, although with mickle feare.
For feare he did, least he the young man might
In choller put, with whom he would not fight.
The Courtlie shepheard much agast at this,
Not seeing earst such token in the wife,
Though full of scorne, would not his duty misse,
Knowing that euill becommes a houshold strife,
Did goe his way, but soiourn'd neere thereby,
That yet the ground hereof he might espie.
The wife thus hauing settled husbands braine,
Who would haue sworne his spowse Diana was,
Watched when she a furder point might gaine,
Which little time did fitlie bring to passe.
For to the Courte her man was calld by name,
Whither he needes must goe for feare of blame.
Three dayes before that he must sure depart,
She written had (but in a hand disguisde)
A letter such which might from either part
Seeme to proceede, so well it was deuisde.
She seald it first, then she the sealing brake,
And to her iealous husband did it take.
With weeping eyes (her eyes she taught to weepe)
She told him that the Courtier had it sent:
Alas, quoth she, thus womens shame doth creepe.
The goodman read on both sides the content,
It title had, Vnto my only loue,
Subscription was, Yours most, if you will proue.
The pistle selfe, such kinde of wordes it had,
My sweetest ioy, the comfort of my sprite,
So may thy flockes encrease thy deere hart glad,
So may each thing, euen as thou wishest lighte,
As thou wilt deigne to reade and gentlie reede
This mourning inck, in which my hart doth bleeds.
Long haue I lou'd, (alas thou worthy arte)
Long haue I lou'd, (alas loue craueth loue)
Long haue I lou'd thy selfe, alas my harte
Doth breake, now toong vnto thy name doth moue,
And thinke not that thy answere answere is,
But that it is my doome of bale or blisse.
The iealous wretch must now to Courte be gone:
Ne can he faile, for prince hath for him sent:
Now is the time we may be here alone,
And geue a long desire a sweet content.
Thus shall you both reward a louer true,
And cke reuenge his wrong suspecting you.
And this was all, and this the husband read
With chafe enough, till she him pacified:
Desiring, that no griefe in him he bread
Now that he had her words so truely tried:
But that he would, to him the letter show
That with his fault he might her goodnes know.
That streight was done with many a boistrous threat,
That to the King, he would his sinne declare,
But now the Courtier gan to smell the feate,
And with some words which shewed little care,
He stayd vntill the goodman was departed,
Then gaue he him the blow which neuer smarted.
Thus may you see, the iealous wretch was made
The Pandare of the thing, he most did feare,
Take heed therefore, how you ensue that trade,
Least the same markes of iealousie you beare.
For sure, no iealousie can that preuent,
Whereto two parties once be full content.
Behold, sayd Pas, a whole dicker of wit: he hath pickt out such a tale with intention to keepe a husband from iealosie, which were enough to make a sanctified husband iealous, to see subtleties so much in the feminine gender. But, sayd he, I will strike Nico dead, with the wise words shall flowe out of my gorge. And without further entreatie thus sang.
WHo doth desire that chaste his wife should be,
First be he true, for truth doth truth deserue:
Then such be he, as she his worth may see,
And one man still credit with her preserue.
Not toying kinde, nor causlesly vnkinde,
Not sturring thoughts, nor yet denying right
Not spying faults, nor in plaine errors blinde,
Neuer hard hand, nor euer raines too light.
As farre from want, as farre from vaine expence,
(The one doth force, the later doth entise)
Allow good company, but kepe from thence
Al filthy mouth's that glory in their vice.
This done, thou hast no more, but leaue the rest
To vertue, fortune, time & womans brest.
Wel cōcluded said Nico, When he hath done al, he leaues the matter to his wiues discretion. Now whensoeuer thou mariest, let her discretion decke thy head with Actaeons ornament, Pas was so angrie with his wish, being in deede towards mariage, that they might perchaunce haue falne to buffets, but that Dicus desired Philisides (who as a stranger sate among them, reuoluing in his mind al the tempests of euil fortunes hee had passed) that he woulde doe so much grace to the companie, as to sing one of his country songes. Philisides knowing it no good maners to besquemish of his comming, hauing put himself in their company, without further studie began to vtter that, wherewith his thoughtes were then (as alwaies) most busied: and to shew what a straunger he was to himselfe, spake of himselfe as of a thirde person, in this sorte.
THe ladd Philisides
Lay by a riuers side,
In flowry fielde a gladder eye to please:
His pipe was at his foote
His lambs were him besides,
A widow turtle neere on bared rootes
Sate wailing without bootes.
Each thing both sweet & sadd
Did draw his boyling braine
To thinke, & thinke with paine
Of Miras beames eclipst by absence bad.
And thus, with eyes made dimme
With teares, he saide, or sorrow said for him.
O earth, once answere giue,
So may thy stately grace
By north, or south still rich adorned liue:
So Mira Long may be
On thy then blessed face,
Whose
•
oote doth set a heau'n on cursed thee,
I aske, now answere me.
If th' author of thy blisse
Phoebus, that shepheard high
Do turne from thee his eye,
Doth not thy selfe, when he long absent is,
Like Rogue, all ragged goe,
And pine away with daily wasting woe?
Tell me you wanton brooke,
So may your sliding race
Shunn lothed-louing bankes with conning crooke:
So in you euer new
Mira may looke her face,
And make you faire with shadow of her hue:
So when to pay your due
To mother sea you come,
She chide you not for stay,
Nor beat you for your play,
Tell me if your diuerted springs become
Absented quite from you,
Are you not dried? Can you your selues renew?
Tell me you flowers faire
Cowslipp & Columbine,
So may your Make this wholsome springtime aire
With you embraced lie,
And lately thence vntwine:
But with dew dropps engendre children hy:
So may you neuer dy,
But pulld by Miras hande
Dresse bosome hers or hedd,
Or scatter on her bedd,
Tell me, if husband springtime leaue your lande,
When he from you is sent,
Whither not you, languisht with discontent?
Tell me my seely pipe,
So may thee still betide
A clenly cloth thy moistnes for to wipe.
So may the cheries redd
Of Miras lipps diuide
Their sugred selues to kisse thy happy hedd:
So may her eares be ledd,
Her eares where Musique liues,
To heare, & not despise
The liribliring cries,
Tell, if that breath, which thee thy sounding giues,
Be absent farre from thee,
Absent alone canst thou then piping be?
Tell me my Lamb of gold,
So maist thou long abide
The day well fed; the night in faithfull folde:
So grow thy wooll of note,
In time that richly di'de
It may be part of Miras peticoate,
Tell me, if wolues the throte
Haue cought of thy deare damme,
Or she from thee be staide,
Or thou from her be straide,
Canst thou, poore lamme, become anothers lamme?
Or rather till thou die
Still for thy Dam with bea-waymenting crie?
Tell me ô Turtle true,
So may no fortune breed
To make thee nor thy better-loued rue:
So may thy blessings swarme
That Mira may thee feede
With hand & mouth, with lapp & brest keepe warme,
Tell me if greedy arme,
Do fondly take away
With traitor lime the one,
The other left alone,
Tell me poore wretch, parted from wretched pray
Disdaine not you the greene,
Wayling till death shun you not to be seene?
Earth, brooke, flowr's, pipe, lambe, Doue
Say all, & I with them,
Absence is death, or worse, to them that loue.
So I vnlucky lad
Whome hills from her do hemme,
What fitts me now but teares, & sighings sadd?
O fortune too too badd,
I rather would my sheepe
Thad'st killed with a stroke,
Burnt Caban lost my cloke,
When want one hower those eyes which my ioyes keepe.
Oh! what doth wailing winne?
Speeche without ende were better not begin.
My song clime thou the winde
Which holland sweet now gently sendeth in,
That on his wings the leauell thou maist finde
To hit, but Kissing hit
Her ear's the weights of wit.
If thou know not for whome thy Master dies,
These markes shall make thee wise:
She is the heardesse faire that shines in darke
And giues her kidds no food, but willow's barke.
This said, at length he ended,
His oft sigh-broken dittie,
Then raise, but raise on leggs: which faintnes bended,
With skinne in sorrow died,
With face the plot of pittie,
With thoughts which thoughts their owne tormentors tried,
He rase, & streight espied
His Ramme, who to recouer
The Ewe another loued,
With him proud battell proued.
He enuied such a death in sight of louer,
And alwaies westward eying
More enuied Phoebus for his westerne flyinge.
The whole company would gladly haue taken this occasion of requesting Philisides
in plainer sorte to discouer vnto them his estate. Which he willing to preuent (as knowing the relation thereof more fit for funeralles then the time of a mariage) began to sing this song he had learned before he had euer subiected his thoughts to acknowledge no Master, but a Mistresse.
AS I my little flocke on Ister banke
(A little flocke; but well my pipe the 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 scothe;
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 siluer groates,
Icleped starres; each thing to rest disposed:
The caues were full, the mountaines voide of goates:
The birds eyes closd 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 founde I which thing is a charge to beare
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 bad 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 iast 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 them 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 into hem.
The beastes had sure some beastly pollicie:
For nothing can endure where order n'is.
For once the Lion by the Lambe 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 enuie harbreth most in feeblest hartes)
Or that they all to chaunging did encline,
(As euen in beasts their dammes leaue chaunging partes)
The multitude to Ioue a suite empartes,
With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking,
Roring, 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 chattering, 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 selues must giue,
That it both seene and felte may with you liue.
Full glad they were and tooke the naked sprite,
Which streight the Earthy clothed 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 Parot, ready tongue, that to applie.
The Foxe gaue crafte; the Dog gaue flatterie;
Asse, pacience; 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;
Camaeleon, 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 seate 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, Beares, and Lions seed)
Disdaind with this, in deserts sought their restes;
Where famine rauine taught their hungrie chestes,
That craftily he forst 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 themselues 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 rewe
When faloon 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 ô man, rage not beyond thy neede:
Deeme it no glorie 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 began 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 cares, diuerse iudgements streight followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastorall stile, others the strangenes of the tale, and scanning what he should 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 sayd, He neuer saw thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knewe 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 themselues. 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 inuited 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 mariage. But thus it was.
Geron. Histor.
Geron.
In faith, good Histor, long is your delay,
From holy marriage sweete and surest meane:
Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay.
I pray thee doo to Lalus sample leane:
Thou seest, how friske, and iolly now he is,
That last day seem'd, he could not chew a beane.
Beleeue me man, there is no greater blisse,
Then is the quiet ioy of louing wife;
Which who so wants, halfe of himselfe doth misse.
Friend without change, playfellow without strife,
Foode without fulnes, counsaile without pride,
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.
Histor.
No doubt to whom so good chance did betide,
As for to finde a pasture strawed with golde,
He were a foole, if there he did not bide.
Who would not haue a Phoenix if he could?
The humming Waspe, if it had not a sting,
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 Arcadias 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.
Either 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 game some 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 friends by nature are,
Enuying 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 lucklest 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 seruants doo their wages buy,
Reuil'd for ech small fault, sometimes for none:
They better liue that in a gaile doo lie.
Let other fowler spots away be blowne;
For I seeke not their shame, but still me thinkes,
A better life it is to lye alone.
Geron.
Who for ech fickle feare from vertue shrinkes,
Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing:
No mortall man the cuppe of suretie drinkes.
The heau'ns doo not good haps in handfuls bring,
But let vs pike our good from out much bad:
That still our little world may know his king.
But certainly so long we may be glad,
While that we doo what nature doth require,
And for th'euent we neuer ought be sad.
Man oft is plag'de with aire, is burnt with fire,
In water drownd
•
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 preserued,
If thus thou murther thy posteritie.
His very being he hath not deserued,
Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbeare,
Whereby that being aye must be conserued.
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 vertue lie.
Sweet 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 fram'd, 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 youthfull head doo clime,
Mothers and Nurses of all vaine annoy.
He spake these wordes with such affection, as a curious eye might easilie haue perceyued he liked Thyrsis fortune better then he loued his person. But then in deede did all arise, and went to the women, where spending all the day, and good part of the night in dauncing, carolling, and wassaling. Lastly, they left
Thyrsis, where he long desired to be left, and with many vnfayned thankes returned euerie man to his home. But some of them hauing to crosse the way of the two Lodges, might see a Ladie making dolefull lamentations ouer a bodie which seemed dead vnto them. But me thinkes Damaetas cries vnto me, if I come not the sooner to comfort him, he will leaue off his golden worke that hath alreadie cost him so much labour and longing.
The ende of the third Booke.
THE FOVRTH BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
THE almightie wisedome euermore delighting to shewe the world, that by vnlikeliest meanes greatest matters may come to conclusion: that humane reason may be the more humbled, and more willinglie geue place to diuine prouidence: as at the first it brought in Damaetas to play a part in this royall pageant, so hauing continued him still an actor, now that all things were growne ripe for an end, made his folly the instrument of reuealing that, which far greater cunning had sought to conceale. For so it fell out that Damaetas hauing spent the whole day in breaking vp the cumbersome worke of the pastor Dorus, and feeling in all his labour no paine so much, as that his hungrie hopes receiued any stay, hauing with the price of much sweate and wearinesse gotten vp the huge stone, which he thought should haue such a golden lining, the good man in the great bed that stone had made, founde nothing but these two verses, written vpon a broad piece of velume:
Who hath his hire, hath well his labour plast:
Earth thou didst seeke, and store of earth thou has
•
.
What an inward discountenance it was to maister Damaetas, to finde his hope of wealth turned to poore verses, for which he neuer cared much, nothing can describe, but either the feeling in ones selfe the state of such a minde Damaetas had, or at least the bethinking what was Midas fancie, when after the great pride he conceiued to be made Iudge betweene Gods, he was rewarded with the ornament of an Asses eares. Yet the deepe apprehension he had receiued of such riches, could not so sodainlie loose the coullor that had so throughlie died his thicke braine, but that he turned and tossed the poore bowels of the innocent earth, till the comming on of the night, and the tediousnes of his frutelesse labor made him content rather to exercise his discontentation at home then there. But forced he was (his horse being otherwise burthened with digging instruments) to returne, as he came, most part of the way on foote: with such grudging lamentations as a nobler minde would (but more noblie) make for the losse of his mistresse. For so farre had he fed his foolish soule with the expectation of that which he reputed felicitie, that he no lesse accompted himselfe miserable, then if he had falne from such an estate his fancie had embraced. So then home againe went Damaetas, punished in conceite, as in conceite he had erred, till he founde himselfe there from a fancied losse falne to essentiall miserie. For entring into his house three houres
within night, in steede of the lightsome countenance of Pamela, which gaue such an inwarde decking to that lodge, as prowdest pallaces might haue cause to enuie it; and of the gratefull conuersation of Dorus, whose wittie behauiour made that lonelines to seeme ful of good company: in steed of the loude scolding of
Miso, and the busie rumbling vp and downe of Mopsa, which though they were so shorte, as quite contrarie to the others praise-worthines, yet were they farre before them in filling of a house: he founde nothing but a solitarie darkenesse; which as naturally it breedes a kinde of irksome gastfulnes, so it was to him a most present terror, remembring the charge he had left behinde, which hee well knew imported no lesse then his life vnto him. Therefore lighting a candle, there was no place a mouse could haue dwelled in, but that he with quaking diligence sought into. But when he saw hee could see nothing of that hee most cared for, then became hee the right patterne of a wretch deiected with feare: for crying and howling, knockinge his head to the wall hee began to make pittifull complaintes where no body coulde heare him: and with too much dread he should not recouer her, leaue all consideration how to recouer her. But at length looking like a she goate, when she casts her kidd, for verie sorrow he tooke in his owne behalfe, out of the lodge hee went running as hard as he could; hauing now receiued the verie forme of hanging into his consideration. Thus running as a man would gladly haue runne from himselfe, it was his foolish fortune to espie, by the glim'ring light of the moone did then yeelde him, one standing aloft among the bowes of a faire ashe. He that would haue asked counsell at that time of a dogg, cast vp his face, as if his tooth had bene drawing: and with much bending his sight perceiued it was mistres Mopsa, fitly seated there for wit and dignitie: There (I will not say with ioye, for how could he tast of ioy, whose imagination was falne from a pallace, to a gallowes?) But yet with some refreshing of comfort, in hope he should learne better tidings: of her, he began to crie out: O Mopsa my beloued chicken, here am I thine owne father Damaetas, neuer in such a towardnes of hanging, if thou canst not helpe me. But neuer a word coulde his eloquence procure of Mopsa, who indeed was there attending for greater matters. This was yet a newe burthen to poore Damaetas, who thought all the worlde was conspired against him: and therefore with a seely choler he began another tune. Thou vile Mopsa, saide he, now the vengeance of my fatherly curse light ouerthwart thee, if thou doe not streight answere me. But neither blessing nor cursing coulde preuaile Mopsa, who was now great with childe, with the expectation of her may-game hopes, and did long to be deliuered with the thirde time being named. Which by and by followed. For Damaetas rubbing his elbowe, stamping and whining, seing neither of these take place, began to throwe stones at her, and withall to coniure her by the name of hellish Mopsa. But when he had named her the third time, no chime can more sodainly follow the striking of a Clocke, then shee, verily thinking it was the God, that vsed her fathers voice, throwing our armes abroade, and not considering she was muffled vpon so high a tree, came fluttering down, like a hooded hawke; like enough to haue broken her neck, but that the tree full of bowes tossed her from one bow to another, and lastly well brused brought her to receiue an vnfrindly salutation of the earth. Damaetas, as soone as she was downe, came running to her: and finding her so close wrapt, pulled of the scarlet cloake: in good time for her, for with the sorenesse of the fall, if she had not had breath giuen her, she had deliuered a foolish soule to Pluto. But then Damaetas began a fresh to desire his daughter not to forget
the paines he had taken for her in her childhoode (which he was sure she could not remember) and to tell him where Pamela was. O good Apollo, saide Mopsa, if euer thou didest beare loue to Phaethons mother, let me haue a King to my husband Alas, what speakest thou of Phaethon? Saide Damaetas: If by thy circumspect meanes I finde not out Pamela, thy father will be hanged to morrow. It is no matter though he be hanged, answered Mopsa: doe but thou make Dorus a King, and let him bee my husband, good Apollo: for my courage doth much pricke mee towarde him. Ah Mopsa, cryed out Damaetas, where is thy witt? Doest thou not know thy father? How hast thou forgotten thy selfe? I do not aske witt of thee mine owne God, said shee: but I see thou wouldest haue me remember my father, and indeede forget my selfe. No, no, a good husband, thou shalt haue thy fill of husbandes saide Damaetas, and doe but answere me my question. O I thanke thee saide Mopsa, withall my harte hartely: but let them bee all Kinges. Damaetas seing no other way preuaile fel downe on his knees, Mopsa Mopsa, saide he, doe not thus cruelly torment me: I am already wretched enough, alas either helpe me or tell me thou canst not. She that woulde not bee behinde Apollo in curtesie, kneeled downe on thother side, I wil neuer leaue tormenting thee said Mopsa, vntill thou hast satisfied my longing, but I will proclaime thee a promise breaker, that euen Iupiter shall heare it. Now by the fostring thou hast receaued in this place saue my life saide Damaetas, now by the faire Ash aunswered Mopsa, where thou didest receaue so great a good turne, graunt post haste to my burning fancie. O where is Pamela saide Damaetas? O a lustie husband, saide Mopsa; Damaetas that nowe verely assured himselfe, his daughter was madd, beganne vtterly to dispaire of his life, and therefore amazedly catching her in his armes, to see whether hee coulde bring her to her selfe, hee might feele the weight of of a greate cudgell light vpon his shoulders, and for the first greeting hee knew his wife Misos voice, by the calling him ribaulde villaine, & asking him whether she coulde not serue his turne as well as Charita? For Miso hauing according to Dorus counsaile, gone to Mantinea, and there harboured her selfe in an olde acquaintaunce house of hers, as soone as tenne of the clocke was striken (where shee had remayned closely all that while, I thinke with such an amiable cheare, as when iealous Iuno sate crosse-legged, to hinder the child-birth of her husbands loue) with open mouth shee went to the Magistrate appointed ouer such matters, and there with the most scolding inuectiue, her rage rather then eloquence could bring forth, she required his ayde to take Damaetas, who had lefte his dutie to the Kinge and his daughter, to cōmit adultery in the house of Charitas vncle, in the Ondemian streete. But neither was the name of Charita remembred, nor any such streete knowne. Yet such was the generall mislike all men had of Damaetas vnworthy aduancement, that euery man was glad to make himselfe a minister of that, which might redounde to his shame, and therfore with Panike cries and laughters, there was no suspected place in all the cittie but was searched for vnder the title of Damaetas; Miso euer formost encowraging them withall the shamefull blasings of his demeanoure, encreasing the sporte of hunting her husband, with her diligent barking, till at length hauing already done both him and her selfe, as much infamous shame, as such a tonge in such an action might performe, in the end not being, able to find a thing that was not, to her mare again she wēt hauing neither suspition nor rage any thing mitigated. But (leauing behinde her a sufficient comedie of her tragicall fancies) away homewarde she
came, imputing the not finding her husband, to any chaunce, rather then to his innocencie. For her harte being apt to receaue and nourish a bitter thought it had so swallowed vp a determinate condemnation, that in the verie anotomie of her spirits one should haue found nothing but diuelish disdaine, and hatefull iealousie. In this sorte grunting out her mischeuous spite, shee came by the tree, euen as Damaetas was making that ill vnderstoode intercession, to his foolish Mopsa. As soone as she harde her husbands voice, she verily thought she had her playe: and therefore stealing from her mare as softely as she coulde, shee came creeping and halting behinde him, euen as he thinking his daughters little witts had quite lefte her great nowle; beganne to take her in his armes; thinking perchaunce her feeling sence might call her mind partes vnto her. But Miso who sawe nothing but thorowe the coulloure of reuenge-full anger, established vpon the fore-iudgement of his trespasse, vndoubtedly resoluing that Mopsa was Charita, Dorus had tolde her of, mumping out her hoarse chafe, she gaue him the wooden salutation you hearde of. Damaetas that was not so sensible in any thing as in blows, turned vp his blubbred face like a great lowt newe whipte: Alas thou woman, said hee, what hath thy poore husband deserued to haue his owne ill lucke loaden with thy displeasure? Pamela is lost, Pamela is lost. Miso still holding on the course of her former fancie, what tellest thou mee naughtie varlet of Pamela, doest thou thinke that doth aunswere me, for abusing the lawes of marriage? Haue I brought thee children, haue I bene a true wife vnto thee, to bee dispised in mine olde age? And euer among shee woulde sawce her speeches with such Bastonados, that poore Damaetas beganne now to thinke, that either a generall madding was falne, or else that all this was but a vision. But as for visions the smarte of the cudgell put out of his fancie: and therefore againe turning to his wife, not knowing in the world what she ment, Miso said hee, hereafter thou maiest examine me, doe but now tell me what is become of Pamela. I will first examine this drabbe said she, and withall let fall her stafe as hard as she could vpon Mopsa, still taking her for Charita. But Mopsa that was alredy angry, thinking that she had hindred her from Apollo, lepte vp and caught her by the throte, like to haue strangled her, but that
Damaetas from a condemned man was faine to become a iudge and part this fayre, such a picture of a rude discord, where each was out with the other two. And then getting the opportunitie of their falling out, to holde himselfe in suretie, who was indeede, the veriest coward of the three, he renewed his earnest demaund of them. But it was a sporte to see, how the former conceites Dorus had printed in their imaginations, kept still such dominion in them, that Miso though now shee founde and felte it was her daughter Mopsa, yet did Charita cōtinually passe through her thoughts which she vttered with such crabbed questions to Damaetas, that hee not possiblie conceauing any parte of her doubt, remained astonished, and the astonishment encreased her doubt. And as for Mopsa, as first she did assuredly take him to be Apollo
and thought her mothers comming did marre the bargaine: So now much talkinge to and fro, had deliuered so much light, into the mistie mould of her capacitie, as to know him to be her father: Yet remayned there such foote-steppes of the foretaken opinion, that shee thought verily her father and mother were hasted thether to gett the first wishe. And therefore to whatsoeuer they asked of her, she would neuer answere, but embracing the tree, as if she feared it had bene running awaye, nay sayes shee I will haue the first wish for I was here first; which they vnderstoode no more, then Damaetas did what Miso ment by Charita: till at length with much vrging them,
being indeede better able to perswade both, then to meete hande to hand with either, he preuailed so much with them, as to bring them into the lodge to see what losse their necligence had suffered. Then indeed the nere neighborhood they bare to themselues, made them leaue other toyes, and look into what dangerous plight they were all faln, assone as the King should know his daughters escape. And as for the wemen they beganne a fresh to enter into their brawling, whether were in the faulte. But Damaetas who did feare that among his other euills, the thunderbolt of that storme would fall vpon his shoulders, slipte away from them, but with so maigre a cheare as might much sooner engender laughter then pittie. O true Arcadia would he say (tearinge his haire and bearde, & somtime for too much woe, making vnweldie somerfaults) how darest thou beare vpon thee such a felonious traytor as I am? And you false harted trees, why woulde you make no noyse, to make her vngratious departure known? Ah Pamela Pamela, how often whē I brought thee in fine posies of all coulored flowers wouldest thou clappe me on the cheek, and say thou wouldst be on day euen with me? Was this thy meaning to bring me to an euē paire of gallows? Ah il taught Dorus that camest hither to learne good maners of me? Did I euer teach thee to make thy maister sweate out his hart for nothing, & in the meane time to run away thy mistres? O my dun cow, I did think sōe euil was towards me, euer since the last day thou didst run away from me, & held vp thy taile so pitifully: did not I se an eagle kil a Cuckoe, which was plain fore token vnto me Pamela
should be my destructiō? O wife Miso (if I durst say it to thy face) why didst thou suspect thy husbād, that loueth a peece of chese better then a womā? And thou litle Mopsa that shalt inherite the shame of thy fathers death, was it time for thee to clime trees, which should so shortly be my best buriall? ô that I could liue without death, or die before I were aware. O hart why hast thou no hands at commaundement to dispatch thee? O hands why want you a hart to kill this villanie? In this sorte did he inuey against euery thing, sometimes thinking to haue away, while it was yet night: but he that had included all the world within his shepecote, thought that worse thē any death sometime for dread of hanging hee ment to hange himselfe: finding as in deede it is, that feare is farre more paynfull to cowardise, then death to a true courage. But his fingers were nothing nimble in that action; & any thing was let inough thereto, he being a true louer of himselfe without any ryuall. But lastly guided by a farre greater constellacion then his owne, he remembred to search the other lodge where it might be Pamela that night had retired her selfe. So thether with trembling hammes hee carried himselfe, but employinge his double keye which the Kinge for speciall credit had vnworthylie bestowed vpon him, hee found all the gates so barred, that his key could not preuaile, sauing onely one trapt doore which went down into a vault by the seller which as it was vnknowen of Pyrocles so had he lefte it vnregarded. But Damaetas that euer know the buttery better then any other place, got in that way and pasing softly to Philocleas chamber, where he thought most likely to finde Pamela, the doore being left open hee entred in, and by the light of the lampe, he might discerne on in bed with her: which he although hee tooke to bee Pamela, yet thinking no suretie enough in a matter touchinge his necke, hee went heard to the bedside of these vnfortunate louers, whoe at that time being not much before the breake of day (whether it were they were so diuinely surprised, to bring this whole matter to be destinied conclusion, or that the vnresistable force of their sorrowes, had ouerthrowne the wakefull vse of their senses) were as then possessed,
with a mutuall sleep) yet not forgetting with viny embracements, to giue any eye a perfect modell of affection. But Damaetas looking with the lampe in his hande but neither with such a face nor mind) vpon these excellent creatures, as Psyche did vpon her vnknowen louer, and giuing euery way freedome to his fearefull eyes, did not onely perceaue it was Zelmane and therefore much different from the Lady hee sought: but that this same Zelmane did more differ from the Zelmane hee and others had euer taken her for, wherein the chaunge of her apparell chiefely confirmed his opinion satisfied with that, and not thinking it good to awake the sleeping Lyon, he went downe againe, taking with him Pyrocles sworde, (wherewith vpon his sleight vndersute Pyrocles came onely apparelled thether) being sure to leaue no weapon in the chamber, and so making the doore as fast as hee coulde on the outside, hopinge with the reuealing of this, (as hee thought greater fault) to make his owne the lesse, or at least that this iniurie would so fill the Kinges head, that he should not haue leysure to chastice his necligence (like a fool not considering that the more rage breeds the crueller punishment) he went first into the Kings chamber, and not finding him there, he ranne downe crying with open mouth, the Kinge was betrayde, and that Zelmane did abuse his daughter. The noise he made being a man of no few wordes ioyned to the yelping sound of Miso, and his vnpleasant enheritrix brought together some number of the shepheards, to whom he without any regard of reseruing it for the Kinges knowledge
•
pattered out the bottom of his stomacke, swearing by him he neuer knew that Zelmane whom they had taken all that while to be a woman, was as arrant a man as himselfe was, whereof hee had seene sufficient signes and tokens; and that hee was as close as a butterflie with the Ladie Philoclea, the poore men iealous of their Princes honour, were readie with weapons to haue entred the lodge; standing yet in some pause, whether it were not best, first to heare some newes from the King himselfe, when by the sodaine comming of other shepheards which with astonished lookes ranne from one crie to the other their griefes were surcharged, with the euil tydings of the Kings death. Turning therefore all their minds and eyes that way, they ranne to the Caue where they said he lay dead, the Sunne beginning now to send some promise of comming light, making hast I thinke to bee spectator of the folowing tragedies. For Basilius hauing past ouer the night more happie in contemplation then action, hauing had his spirits sublymed with the sweete imagination of embrasing the most desired Zelmane, doubting least me Caues darknes might deceaue him in the dayes approch, thought it nowe season to returne to his wedlocke bed, remembring the promise he had made Zelmane, to obserue due orders towards Gynecia. Therefore departing but not departing without bequeathing by a will of wordes, sealed with many kisses, a full guifte of all his loue and life to his misconceaued bedfellowe, he went to the mouth of the Caue, there to apparel himselfe, in which doing the motion of his ioye coulde not bee bridled from vttering such like wordes. Blessed be thou O night said he, that hast with thy sweete winges shrowded mee in the vale of blisse it is thou that art the gotten childe of time, the day hath bene but an vsurper vpon thy delightfull inheritaunce, thou inuitest all liuing thinges to comfortable rest, thou arte the stop of strife and the necessarie truce of aproching battels. And therewith hee sange these verses, to confirme his former prayses:
O Night the ease of care the pledge of pleasure,
Desires best meane, harnest of hartes affected,
The seate of peace, the throne which is erected
Of humane life to be the quiet measure,
Be victor still of Phoebus golden treasure:
Who hath our sight with too much sight infected,
Whose light is cause we haue our liues neglected
Turning all natures course to selfe displeasure.
These stately starrs in their now shining faces,
With sinlesse sleepe, and silence wisdomes mother,
Witnesse his wrong which by thy helpe is eased:
Thou arte therefore of these our desart places
The sure refuge, by thee and by no other
My soule is bliste, sence ioyde, and fortune raysed.
And yet farther would his ioyes needes breake foorth. O Basilius, sayde he, the rest of thy time, hath bene but a dreame vnto thee: it is now onely thou beginnest to liue, now onely thou hast entred into the way of blisfulnes. Should fancie of marriage keepe me from this paradise? Or opinion of I know not what promise binde me from paying the right duties to nature and affection? O who woulde haue thought there could haue bene such difference betwixt women? Bee iealous no more O Gynecia, but yeelde to the preheminence of more excellent guiftes, supporte thy selfe with such marble pillers as she doth, decke thy brest with those alablaster boules that
Zelmane doth: then accompanied with such a tittle, perhapes thou maist recouer the possession of my otherwise enclined loue. But alas Gynecia thou canst not shew such euidence; therefore thy plea is vaine. Gynecia hearde all this hee saide who had cast about her Zelmanes garment, wherein she came thether, and had followed Basilius to the Caues entrie; full of inward vexation, betwixt the deadly accusation of her own guiltines, and the spitefull doubt shee had Zelmane had abused her. But because of the one side (finding the King did thinke her to be Zelmane she had libertie to imagine it might rather be the Kings owne vnbridled enterprise, which had barred Zelmane, then Zelmanes cunning deceiuing of her, and that of the other if shee shoulde heddilie seeke a violent reuenge her owne honour might bee as much interessed, as
Zelmane endaungered: she fell to this determination. First with fine handling of the King to settle in him a perfect good opinion of her, and then as shee shoulde learne, how things had passed, to take into her selfe new deuised counsaile, but this beinge her first action, hauing geuen vnlooked for attendaunce to the King, she heard with what partiality he did prefer her to her self, she saw in him how much fancy doth not onely darken reasō but beguile sence shee foūd opinion Mistres of the louers iudgement, which seruing as a good lesson to her good conceite, she went out to Basilius, setting her selfe in a graue behauiour and stately silence before him: vntill he, (who at the first thinking her by so much shadow as he could see to bee Zelmane, was beginning his louing ceremonies) did now being helped by the peeping light, wherewith the morning did ouercome the nights darkenes, knowe her face and his error, which acknowledging in himself with starting back from her, she thus with a modest
bitternes spake vnto him: Alas my Lorde, well did your wordes discipher your minde, and well be those wordes confyrmed with this gesture. Verie loathsome must that woman be, from whome a man hath cause to goe backe; and little better liked is that wife, before whome the husband preferrs them hee neuer knewe. Alas, hath my faithfull obseruing my parte of duety made you thinke your selfe euer a whit the more exempted? Hath that which should claime gratefulnes, bene a cause of contempt? Is the being the mother of Pamela, become an odious name vnto you? If my life hetherto ledde haue not auoyded suspicion? If my violated truth to you be deseruing of any punishment, I refuse not to be chastised with the most cruell torment of your displeasure, I refuse not misery, purchased by mine owne merite. Hard I must needes saye, (although till now I neuer thought I should haue had cause to saye) is the destinie of womankinde, the tryall of whose vertue must stande vpon the louing of them, that employe all theyr industrie not to be beloued. If Zelmanes young yeares had not had so much grauitie hidden vnder a youthfull face, as your graye heares haue bene but the visar of vnfitting youthfulnes, your vicious minde had brought some fruites of repentance, and Gynaecia might then haue bene with much more right so basely despised.
Basilius that was more ashamed to see himselfe so ouertaken, then Vulcan
was, when with much cunning hee proued himselfe a Cuckolde, beganne to make certayne extrauagant excuses: but the matter in it selfe hardly brooking any purgacion, with the suddainnes of the time, which barred any good conioyned inuention, made him sometimes alledge one thing, to which by and by he would bring in a contrarye, one time with flat denyall, another time with mitigating the fault, now braue, then humble, vse such a stammering defensiue, that Gynaecia, the violence of whose sore in deede ranne another waye, was content thus to fasten vp the last stitch of her anger. Well, well my Lorde, sayde she, it shall well become you so to gouerne your selfe, as you may be fit rather to direct me, then to be iudged of me; and rather to be a wise maister of me, then an vnskilfull pleader before me. Remember the wrong you haue done is not onely to me, but to your children, whome you had of mee: to your countrey, when they shall finde they are commaunded by him, that can not commaund his owne vndecent appetites: lastly to your selfe, since with these paynes you do but build vp a house of shame to dwell in: if from those moueable goods of nature (wherewith, in my fyrst youth my royall parents bestowed me vppon you) bearing you children, and encrease of yeares haue withdrawen me, consider I pray you, that as you are cause of the one, so in the other, time hath not left to worke his neuer-fayling effectes in you. Truly, truly Sir, very vntimely are these fyres in you: it is time for vs both to let reason enioye his due soueraigntie. Let vs not plant anewe those weedes, which by natures course are content to fade.
Basilius that would rather then his life the matter had bene ended, the best rethorike he had, was flat demanding pardon of her, swearing it was the very force of Apollos destenye which had caryed him thus from his owne bias; but that nowe like as farre trauellers were taught to loue their owne countrie, he had such a lesson without booke, of affection vnto her, as he would repay the debt of this error with the interest of a great deale more true honour then euer before he had done her:
neyther am I to geue pardon to you my Lord, sayd she, nor you to beare honour to me. I haue taken this boldnes for the vnfayned loue I owe vnto you, to deliuer my sorrowe vnto you; much more for the care I haue of your well doing, then for any other selfe fancie. For well I knowe that by your good estate my life is mayntayned, neyther, if I would, can I separate my selfe from your fortune. For my parte therefore I clayme nothing but that which may be safest for your selfe; my life, will, honor, and what soeuer else, shall be but a shadow of that bodie. How much Basilius owne shame had found him culpable, and had alreadie euen in soule read his owne condemnacion, so much did this vnexpected mildnes of Gynaecia captiue his harte vnto her, which otherwise perchaunce would haue growne to a desperat carelesnes. Therefore embracing her, and confessing that her vertue shined in his vice, he did euen with a true resolued minde vowe vnto her, that as long as he vnworthie of her did liue, she should be the furthest and onlie limit of his affection. He thanked the destenies, that had wrought her honour out of his shame, and that had made his owne striuing to goe amisse, to be the best meane euer after to hold him in the right pathe. Thus reconciled to Basilius great contentacion, who began something to marke himselfe in his owne doings, his hard hap guided his eye to the cuppe of golde, wherein Gynaecia had put the lickourment for Zelmane, and hauing fayled of that guest, was now carrying it home agayne. But he whome perchaunce sorrowe, perchaunce some long disaccustomed paynes, had made extremely thirstie, tooke it out of her handes, although she directly tolde him, both of whome she had it, what the effect of it was, and the little proofe she had seene thereof; hiding nothing from him, but that she ment to minister it to another pacient. But the Duke whose belly had no eares, and much drouthe kept from the desiring a taster, finding it not vnpleasant to his pallate, dranke it almost off, leauing very little to couer the cuppes bottome. But within a while that from his stomacke the drincke had deliuered to his principall vaynes his noysome vapours, first with a painefull stretching, and forced yawning, then with a darke yellownes dyeng his skinne, and a colde deadlie sweate principally about his temples, his bodie by naturall course longing to deliuer his heauie burden to his earthly damme, wanting force in his knees, which vtterly abandoned him, with heauie fall gaue some proofe whether the operation of that vnknowne potion tended. For with pang-like grones, and gastly turning of his eyes, immediatlie all his limmes stiffened, and his eyes fixed, he hauing had time to declare his case only in these wordes. O Gynaecia I dye. Haue care: of what or how much further he would haue spoken, no man can tell. For Gynaecia hauing well perceyued the changing of his cullour, and those other euill signes, yet had not looked for such a sodaine ouerthrowe, but rather had bethought her selfe what was best for him, when she sodainely sawe the matter come to that periode, comming to him, and neyther with any cryes getting a worde of him, nor with any other possible meanes, able to bring any liuing action from him, the height of all ouglie sorrowes did so horrible appeare before her amazed minde, that at the first, it did not only distract all power of speech from her, but almost wit to consider, remayning as it were quicke buried in a graue of miseries. Her paynefull memorie had streight filled her with the true shapes of all the fore-past mischiefes, her reason began to crye out against the filthye rebellion of sinfull sense, and to teare it selfe with anguish, for hauing made so weake resistance, her conscience a terrible witnes
of the inwarde wickednes, still nourishing this debatefull fyre; her complaynte nowe not hauing an ende to be directed vnto something to disburden sorrowe, but a necessary downefall of inwarde wretchednes. She sawe the rigour of the lawes was like to lay a shamefull death vpon her, which being for that action vndeserued, made it the more insupportable, and yet in deapth of her soule most deserued, made it more miserable. At length letting her tong goe as her dolorous thoughts guided it, she thus with lamentable demeanour spake.
O bottomles pit of sorrowe, in which I cannot conteyne my selfe, hauing the fyrebrands of all furyes within me, still falling, and yet by the infinitenes of it neuer falne. Neyther can I ridde myselfe, being fettred with the euerlasting consideracion of it. For whether should I recommend the protection of my dishonored fall? to the earth? it hath no life, and waites to be encreased by the reliques of my shamed carcasse: to men? who are alwayes cruell in their neighboures faultes, and make others ouerthrowe become the badge of their ill masked vertue? to the heauens? ô vnspeakeable torment of conscience, which dare not looke vnto them. No sinne can enter there, oh there is no receipt for polluted mindes. Whether then wilt thou leade this captiue of thine, ô snakye despayre? Alas, alas, was this the free-holding power that accursed poyson hath graunted vnto me, that to be held the surer it should depriue life? was this the folding in mine armes promised, that I should fould nothing but a dead body? O mother of mine, what a deathfull sucke haue you geuen me? O Philoclea, Philoclea, well hath my mother reuenged vppon me my vnmotherly hating of thee. O Zelmane, to whome yet (least any miserye should fayle me) remayne some sparkes of my detestable loue, if thou hast (as now alas! now my minde assures me thou hast) deceaued me, there is a fayre stage prepared for thee, to see the tragicall ende of thy hated loues. With that worde there flowed out two riuers of teares out of her fayre eyes, which before were drye, the remembraunce of her other mischiefes being dryed vp in furious fyre of selfe detestation, loue only according to the temper of it melting it selfe into those briny tokens of passion. Then turning her eyes agayne vpon the body, she remembred a dreame she had had some nights before, wherein thinking herselfe called by Zelmane, passing a troublesome passage, she found a dead body which tolde her there should be her only rest. This no sooner caught holde of her remembraunce, then that she determining with her selfe, it was a directe vision of her fore-appoynted ende, tooke a certayne resolucion to embrace death, assoone as it should be offred vnto her, and no way to seeke the prolonging of her annoyed life. And therefore kissing the cold face of Basilius; And euen so will I rest sayd she, and ioyne this faultye soule of mine to thee, if so much the angry gods will graunt mee.
As shee was in this plight, the Sunne nowe climing ouer our Horizon, the first Shepherds came by, who seeing the King in that case, and hearing the noyse Damaetas made of the Lady Philoclea, ranne with the dolefull tidings of Basilius death vnto him, who presently with all his company came to the Caues entrye where the Kings body lay. Damaetas for his parte more glad for the hope he had of his priuate escape, then sorye for the publike losse his Countrie receaued for a Prince not to be misliked. But in Gynaecia nature preuayled aboue iudgement; and the shame shee conceaued to be taken in that order, ouercame for that instant the former resolucion, so that assoone as she sawe the formost of the pastorall
troupe, the wretched Princesse ranne to haue hid her face in the next woods, but with such a minde, that she knewe not almost her selfe what she could wish to be the grounde of her safetie. Damaetas that sawe her runne awaye in Zelmanes vpper rayment, and iudging her to be so, thought certaynely all the spirits in hell were come to play a Tragedie in these woods, such strange change he sawe euery way. The King dead at the Caues mouth; the Queene as hee thought absent; Pamela fledde away with Dorus; his wife and Mopsa in diuers franzies. But of all other things Zelmane conquered his capacitie, sodainly from a woman growne to a man; and from a lockt chamber gotten before him into the fieldes, which hee gaue the rest quicklie to vnderstande; for in steede of doing any thing as the exigent required, he beganne to make circles, and all those fantasticall defences that hee had euer hearde were fortifications against Diuells. But the other Shepheards who had both better wittes, and more faith, forthwith deuided themselues, some of them running after Gynecia, and esteeming her running away, a great condemnation of her owne guiltinesse; others going to their Prince, to see what seruice was left for them eyther in recouerie of his life, or honoring his death. They that went after the Queene, had soone ouertaken her, in whome nowe the fyrst feares were stayde, and the resolucion to dye had repossessed his place in her minde. But when they sawe it was the Queene, to whome besides the obedient dutie they ow'de to her state, they had alwayes carried a singuler loue, for her courteous liberalities, and other wise and vertuous partes, which had filled all that people with affection and admiracion. They were all sodainely stopped, beginning to aske pardon for their followinge her in that sorte, and desiring her to be their good Ladie, as she had euer bene. But the Queene who nowe thirsted to be ridde of her selfe, whome she hated aboue all thinges with such an assured countenance as they haue, who alreadie haue dispensed with shame, and digested the sorrowes of death, she thus sayde vnto them. Continue, continue, my friends: your doing is better then your excusing, the one argues assured faith, the other want of assurance. If you loued your Prince, when he was able and willing to doo you much good, which you could not then requite to him; doo you now publish your gratefulnes, when it shall be seene to the world, there are no hopes left to leade you vnto it. Remember, remember you haue lost Basilius a Prince to defend you, a Father to care for you, a companyon in your ioyes, a friend in your wants. And if you loued him, shew you hate the author of his losse. It is I, faithfull Arcadians, that haue spoyled the Countrie of their protector. I, none but I, was the minister of his vnnaturall end. Cary therfore my blood in your hāds, to testifie your own innocencie, neither spare for my titles sake, but consider it was he that so entituled me. And if you think of any benefits by my meanes, thinke with it that I was but the instrumēt and he the spring. What stay ye Shepheards whose great Shepheard is gone? you neede not feare a woman, reuerence your Lords murtherer, nor haue pittie of her, who hath not pittie of herself. With this she presented her faire neck; some by name, others by signes, desired them to do iustice to the world, dutie to their good king, honor to themselues, and fauour to her. The poore men looked one vpon the other, vnused to be arbiters in Princes matters, and being now falne into a great perplexitie, betwixt a Prince dead and a Princesse aliue. But once for them she might haue gone whether she would, thinking it a sacriledge to touch her person, when she finding
she finding she was not a sufficiēt oratour to perswade her own death by their hāds, well, said she, it is but so much more time of miserie, for my part I will not geue my life so much pleasure from hence forward as to yeeld to his desire of his own choise of death; since all the rest is taken away, yet let me excell in miserie. Leade me therfore whether you will; only happy, because I can not be more wretched. But neyther so much would the honest Shepheards do, but rather with many teares bemoned this encrease of their former losse, till she was faine to leade them, with a very strange spectacle, either that a Princesse should be in the hands of Shepheards, or a prisoner should direct her gardiens: lastly, before either witnes or accuser, a Lady condemne her selfe to death. But in such monefull
•
arch they went towards the other Shepheards, who in the meane time had left nothing vnassaied to reuiue the King, but all was bootles; and their sorrowes encreased the more they had suffred any hopes vainly to arise. Among other trialls they made to know at least the cause of his end, hauing espied the vnhappy cup, they gaue the little liquor that was left to a dogge of Damaetas, in which within a short time it wrought the like effect; although Damaetas did so much to recouer him, that for very loue of his life he dasht out his braines. But now all togither and hauing Gynaecia among them, who to make her selfe the more odious, did continuallie record to their mindes the excesse of their losse, they yelded themselues ouer to all those formes of lamentacion that dolefull images do imprint in the honest but ouer tender hartes; especially when they thinke the rebound of the euill falls to their owne smart. Therefore after the auncient greeke maner, some of them remembring the nobilitie of his birth, continued by being like his Auncestors: others his shape, which though not excellent, yet fauour and pittie drew all things now to the highest point; others his peaceable gouernment, the thing which most pleaseth men resolued to liue of their owne; others his liberalitie, which though it cannot light vpon all men, yet men naturallie hoping it may be, they make it a most amiable vertue. Some calling in question the greatnes of his power, which encreased the compassion to see the present change, (hauing a dolefull memorie how he had tempered it with such familier curtesie among them, that they did more feele the fruites, then see the pompes of his greatnes) all with one consent geuing him the sacred titles of good, iust, mercifull, the father of the people, the life of his Countrie, they ranne about his body, tearing their beards and garments; some sending their cryes to heauen, other inuenting perticular howling musicke; manie vowing to kill themselues at the day of his funeralls, generallie geuing a true testimonye, that men are louing creatures when iniuries put them not from their naturall course: and howe easily a thing it is for a Prince by succession, deeplie to sinke into the soules of his subiects, a more liuely monument then Mausolus Tombe. But as with such hartie lamentacion, they dispersed among those woods their resounding shrikes, the Sunne the perfectest marke of time, hauing now gotten vp two howres iourney in his dayly changing Circle, their voice helped with the only answering Echo, came to the eares of the faithfull and worthy Gentleman Philanax: who at that time was comming to visite the King, accompanyed with diuers of the worthie Arcadian Lords, who with him had visited the places adioyning for the more assurance of Basilius solitarines, a thing after the late mutinie he had vsually done, and since the Princesses returne more diligentlie continued, which hauing nowe likewise performed, thinking it as well his duty to see the King as of good purpose,
being so neare, to receyue his further direction: accompanied as aboue sayd he was this morning comming vnto him, when these vnpleasant voices gaue his minde an vncertaine presage of his neere approching sorow. For by and by he saw the bodie of his dearely esteemed Prince, and heard Gynecias lamenting: not such as the turtle-like loue is wont to make for the euer ouer-soone losse of her only loued make, but with curfings of her life, detesting her owne wickednes, seeming only therefore not to desire death, because she would not shew a loue of any thing. The Shepheards, especially Damaetas, knowing him to be the second person in Aucthoritie, gaue forthwith relacion vnto him, what they knewe and had proued of this dolorous spectacle, besides the other accidents of his children. But he principally touched with his maisters losse, lighting from his horse with a heauie cheare, came and kneeled downe by him, where finding he could do no more then the Shepheards had for his recouerie, the constancie of his minde, surprised before he might call together his best rules, could not refraine such like words. Ah deere maister, sayd he, what change it hath pleased the Almightie Iustice to worke in this place? How soone (not to your losse, who hauing liued long to nature, and to time longer by your well deserued glorie, but longest of all in the eternall mansion you now possesse) But how soone I say to our ruine, haue you left the fraile barke of your estate? O that the words in most faithfull dutie deliuered vnto you, when you first entred this solitarie course, might haue wrought as much perswasion in you, as they
•
prang from truth in me perchaunce your seruaunt, Philanax should not nowe haue cause in your losse, to bewayle his owne ouerthrowe. And therewith taking himselfe; and in deede euill fitteth it me, sayde he, to let goe my harte to womanish complaints, since my Prince being vndoubtedly well, it rather shewes loue of my selfe, which makes me bewaile mine owne losse. No, the true loue must be proued in the honor of your memorie, and that must be shewed with seeking iust reuenge vpon your vniust and vnnaturall enemies; and farre more honorable it will be for your Tombe, to haue the blood of your murderers sprinkled vpon it, then the teares of your friendes. And if your soule looke downe vppon this miserable earth, I doubt not it had much rather your death were accompanyed with well deserued punishment of the causers of it, then with the heaping on it more sorrowes with the ende of them, to whome you vouchsafed your affection, let them lament that haue wouen the webbe of lamentacion; let theyr owne deathes make them crye out for your death that were the authors of it. Therewith carying manfull sorowe and vindicati
•
e resolucion in his face, he rose vp, so looking on the poore guiltlesse princesse transported with an vniust iustice, that his eyes were sufficient herauldes for him, to denounce a mortall hatred. She, (whome furies of loue, firebrands of her conscience, shame of the world, with the miserable losse of her husband, towardes whome nowe the disdaine of her selfe bred more loue; with the remembrance of her vision, wherewith she resolued assuredly the Gods had appointed that shamefull end to be her resting place, had set her mind to no other way but to death) vsed such like speeches to Philanax, as she had before to the Shepheards; willing him not to looke vpon her as a woman, but a monster; not as a princesse, but a traytor to his prince; not as Basilius wife, but as Basilius murtherer. She tolde him howe the worlde required at his handes, the iust demonstration of his friendship, if hee nowe forgot his Prince, hee shoulde shewe hee had neuer loued but hys fortune:
like those vermine that sucke of the liuing bloud, and leaue the body assoone as it is dead, poore Princesse needelesly seeking to kindle him, who did most deadly detest her, which he vttered in this bitter answere. Madame saide he, you do well to hate your selfe, for you cannot hate a worse creature; and though we feele enough your hellish disposition, yet we neede not doubt you are of counsell to your selfe of much worse then we know. But now feare not, you shall not long be combred with being guided by so euell a soule, therefore prepare your selfe that if it be possible you may deliuer vp your spirit so much purer, as you more wash your wickednes with repentaunce. Then hauing presently giuen order for the bringing from Mantinea, a great number of tents, for the receipt of the principall Arcadians: the maner of that countrie being, that where the Prince died, ther should be orders taken for the countries gouernment, and in the place any murther was committed, the iudgement should be giuen ther, before the body was buried, both concurring is this matter, and alredy great parte of the Nobilitie being ariued, he deliuered the Princes to a gentelman of greate trust, and as for Damaetas taking from him the keyes of both the lodges, calling him the moth of his Princes estate, and onely spot of his iudgement, he caused him with his wife and daughter, to bee fettered vp in as manye chaines and clogges, as they coulde beare, and euery thirde howre to bee cruelly whipt, till the determinate iudgement should be giuen of all these matters. That done hauing sent alredy at his comming, to all the quarters of the countrie to seeke Pamela, although with smal hope of ouertaking them, he himself went wel accompanied to the lodge where the two vnfortunate louers were attending a cruell conclusion, of their long painefull, and late most painefull affection, Damaetas clownish eyes, hauing ben the onely discouerers of Pyrocles stratagem, had no sooner taken a full vewe of them (which in some sightes would rather haue bred any thing, then an accusing minde) and locked the doore vpon these two yong folkes, now made prisoners for loue, as before they had bene prisoners to loue; But that imediatly vpon his going downe, (whether with noyse Damaetas made, or with the creeping in of the light, or rather that as extreame griefe had procured his sleepe, so extreame care had measured his sleepe, giuinge his sences a very early salüe to come to themselues) Pyrocles awaked; And being vp the first euill hansell he had of the ill case wherein he was, was the seeing himselfe depriued of his sworde, from which he had neuer seperated himselfe in any occasion, and euen that night first by the Kinges bedd, and then there had laid it, as he thought safe: putting great parte of the trust of his well doing in his owne cowrage so armed. For indeed the confidence in ones self is the chiefe nurse of magnanimitie, which confidence notwithstanding doth not leaue the care of necessarie furnitures, for it: and therefore of all the Grecians Homere doth euer make Achilles the best armed. But that, as I say, was the first ill token: but by and by he perceaued he was a prisoner before any arest, for the doore which he had lefte open was made
•
o fast of the outside, that for all the force he could employe vnto it he could not vndo Damaetas doing, then went he to the windowes, to see if that waye, there were any escape for him and his deare Lady, but as vaine hee founde all his employment there not hauing might to breake out but onely one barre, wherin notwithstanding he strained his sinewes to the vttermost. And that he rather took out to vse for other seruice, then for any possibilitie he had to escape, for euen then it was, that Damaetas hauing gathered together the first comming sheepheards, did blabber out what hee ha
•
founde in the Ladye Philocleas chamber, Pyrocles markingly harkned to all that
Damaetas said, whose voice and minde, acquaintance had taught him sufficiently to know. But when he assuredly perceaued that his being with the Lady Philoclea was fullie discouered; & by the follie or malice, or rather malicious follie of Damaetas her honour therein touched in the hiest degree; remembring withal the crueltie of the Arcadian lawes which without exception did condemn al to death, who were foūd (as Damaetas reported of them) in acte of mariage without solemnitie of mariage; assuring himselfe besides the law, the King & the Queene, woulde vse so much more hate against their daughter, as they had found themselues sotted by him, in the pursute of their loue; Lastly seing they were not only in the way of death, but fittly encaged for death, looking with a hartie griefe vpon the honour of loue, the fellowes
Philoclea, (whose innocent soule now enioying his owne goodnes did little knowe the daunger of his euer faire then sleeping harbour) his excellent wit strengthened with vertue but guided by loue, had soone described to himselfe a perfect vision of their present condition, wherein hauing presently cast a resolute reckoning of his owne parte of the misery, not only the chiefe but sole burthen of his anguish consisted in the vnworthy case, which was like to fall vpon the best deseruing Philoclea. He saw the misfortune not the mismeaning of his worke, was like to bring that creature to end, in whom the worlde as he thought did begin to receaue honour hee saw the weake iudgement of man, woulde condemne that as death deseruing voice in her, which had in troth neuer broken the bonds of a true liuing vertue, & how often his eye turned to his attractiue adamant: so often did an vnspeakable horror strike his noble hart: to cōsider so vnripe yeares, so fautles a beautie, the mansion of so pure goodnes, should haue her youth so vntimely cut off, her naturall perfections vnnaturallie cōsumed, her vertue rewarded with shame, somtimes he would accuse himselfe of necligence, that had not more curiously looked to al the house entries, & yet coulde hee not imagine the way Damaetas was gotten in, & to call backe what might haue ben to a mā of wisdom & courage, caries but a vaine shadow of discourse somtimes he could not chose but with a dissolutiō of his inward might lamentably consider with what face he might looke vpon his (till then) ioy Philoclea, when the next light waking should deliuer vnto her, should perchaunce be the last of her hurtles life. And that the first time she should bend her excellent eyes vpon him, shee should see the accursed aucthor of her dreadfull end, & euen this consideration more then any other, did so set it selfe in his well disposed minde, that dispersing his thoughts to all the wayes that might be of her safetie, finding a verye small discourse in so narrowe lymits of time and place, at length in many difficulties he saw none beare any likelyhood for her life, but his death. For thē he thought it would fal out that when they foūd his body dead, hauing no accuser but Damaetas as by his speach he found there was not, it might iustly appeare that either Philoclea in defending her honour, or els he himself in dispaire of atchieuing, had left his carcase profe of his intent but witnes of her clearenes, hauing a small while staied vpon the greatnes of his resolution and loked to the furthest of it, be it so said the valiant Pyrocles: neuer life for better cause, nor to better end was bestowed, for if death be to follow this doing, which no death of mine could make me leaue vndon, who is to die so iustly as my self? And if I must die, who can be so fit executioners as mine owne hands? Which as they were accessaries to the doing, so in killing me they shall suffer their owne punishment. But then arose ther a new impediment, for Damaetas hauing caried away any thing, which he thought might hurt as tender a man as himselfe, hee coulde finde no fit instrument
which might geue him a finall dispatch, at length makinge the more haste, leaste his Lady should awake, taking the Iron barre, (which being sharper something at the one end, then the other, he hoped ioynd to his willing strength, might breake of the former threed of mortallitie, truely said he, fortune thou hast well perseuered mine enemie, that wilt graunt me no fortune, to be vnfortunate, nor let me haue an easie passage now I am to troubl thee no more. But said he O bar blessed in that thou hast done seruice to the chamber of the paragon of life, since thou couldest not help me to make a perfitter escape, yet serue my turne I pray thee, that I may escape from my selfe, there withall yet once looking to fetch the last repast of his eyes and newe againe transported with the pittifull case hee lefte her in, kneeling downe he thus prayed. O great maker and great ruler of this worlde, saide hee, to thee do I sacrifice this bloud of mine, and suffer Lorde the errors of my youth, to passe away therein, and let not the soule by thee made, and euer bending vnto thee, be now reiected of thee, neither be offended that I do abandon this body, to the gouernment of which thou hadst placed me, without thy leaue, since how cā I know but that thy vnsearchable minde is, I should so doe, since thou hast taken from me all meanes longer to abide in it? And since the difference stāds but in a short time of dying, thou that hast framed my soule enclyned to do good, howe can I in this smal space of mine, benefit so much all the humane kinde, as in preseruing thy perfittest workmanship, their chiefest honour? O iustice it selfe, howsoeuer thou determinest of me, let this excellent innocency not bee oppressed! Let my life pay her losse, O Lord geue me some signe that I may die with this comfort. (And pawsing a little as if he had hoped for some token) and when soeuer to the eternall darknes of the earth she doth followe me, let our spirits possesse one place, and let them bee more happie in that vniting. With that word striking the barre vpon his harte side, withall the force he had, and falling withall vpon to giue it the thorower passage, the barre in troth was to blunt to do theffect, although it pearced his skinne and brused his ribbes very sore, so that his breath was almost past him. But the noyse of his fall, draue away sleepe from the quiet sences of the deere Philoclea, whose sweete soule had an earely salutation of a deadly spectacle vnto her, with so much more astonishment, as the falling a sleepe but a litle before she had retired her selfe from the vttermost pointe of wofulnes, and sawe now againe before her eyes the most cruell enterprise that humane nature can vndertake without discerning any cause therof. But the liuely printe of her affection had soone taught her not to stay long vpon diliberation, in so vrgent a necessitie, therefore getting with speede her weake though well accorded limmes out of her sweetned bedd, as when Iuells are hastely pulled out of some riche coffer, she spared not the nakednes of her tender feete, but I thincke borne as fast with desire as feare carried Daphne, she came running to Pyrocles, and finding his spirits somthing troubled with the fall; she put by the barre that lay close to him, and strayning him in her most beloued embracement, my comforte, my ioye, my life saide shee, what haste haue you to kill your Philoclea with the most cruell torment that euer Lady suffred? Do you not yet perswade your selfe that any hurte of yours is a death vnto me? And that your death shoulde bee my hell? Alas, if any sodaine mislike of mee (for other cause I see none) haue caused you to loath your selfe, if any fault or defect of mine hath bred this terriblest rage in you, rather let mee suffer the bitternes of it, for so shal the deseruer be punished, mankind preserued from such a ruine, & I for my part shall haue that comforte, that I dye by the noblest hande that euer drew sword. Pyrocles
greued with his fortune that he had not in one instant cut of all such deliberation, thinking his life onely reserued to be bound to bee the vnhappie newes teller: Alas said he, my onely Starre, why doe you this wrong to God, your selfe and me, to speake of faultes in you, no, no, most faultlesse, most perfet Lady, it is your excellencie that makes me hasten my desired end, it is the right I owe to the generall nature, that (though against priuate nature) makes me seek the preseruation of all that she hath done in this age, let me, let me dye. There is no way to saue your life most worthy to be conserued, then that my death be your clearing, then did he with farre more paine and backward loathnes, then the so neere killing himselfe was (but yet driuen with necessitie to make her yeeld, to that hee thought was her safetie) make her a short but pithie discourse, what he had heard by Damaetas speeches, confirming the rest with a plaine demonstratiō of their imprisonment. And then sought he new meanes of stopping his breath, but that by Philocleas labour, aboue her force, he was stayed to heare her. In whom a man might perceue, what smal difference in the working there is, betwixt a simple voidnes of euill, & a iudiciall habit of vertue. For she, not with an vnshaked magnanimity, wherewith Pyrocles wayed & dispised death, but with an innocent guiltlessnes, not knowing why she should feare to deliuer her vnstayned soule to God, helped with the true louing of Pyrocles, which made her think no life without him, did almost bring her minde to as quiet attending all accidents, as the vnmastred vertu of Pyrocles. Yet hauing with a pretty palenes (which did leaue milken lines, vpon her rosie cheekes) payd a little dutie to humane feare, taking the Prince by the hand, and kissing the wound he had giuen himselfe; O the only life of my life, and (if it fall out so) the comforte of my death, saide shee, farre farre from you, be the doing me such wronge, as to thinke I will receaue my life as a purchase of your death, but well may you make my death so much more miserable, as it shall any thinge be delayed after my onely felicitie. Doe you thincke I can accompte of the moment of death, like the vnspeakeable afflictions my soule shoulde suffer, so ofte as I call Pyrocles to my minde, which should be as ofte as I breathed? Should these eyes guide my steppes, that had seene your murder? should these hands feede me that had not hindred such a mischiefe? Should this harte remaine within me, at euery pant to count the continuall clock of my miseries? O no, if die we must, let vs thanke death, he hath not deuided so true an vnion! And truely my Pyrocles, I haue heard my father, and other wise men say that the killing ones selfe is but a false coulloure, of true courage; proceeding rather of feare of a further euil, either of torment or shame. For if it were a not respecting the harme, that woulde likewise make him not respect what might be done vnto him: and hope, being of al other, the most contrary thing to feare: this being an vtter banishment of hope, it seemes to receaue his ground in feare. Whatsoeuer (would they say) comes out of despaire, cannot beare the title of valure, which should bee lifted vp to such a hight, that holding al things vnder it selfe, it should be able to maintaine his greatnes euen in the middest of miseries. Lastly they would saye, God had appointed vs Captaines of these our boddylie fortes, which without treason to that Maiestie, were neuer to be deliuered ouer till they were redemaunded. Pyrocles, who had that for a lawe vnto him, not to leaue Philoclea in any thing vnsatisfied, although hee still remained in his former purpose, and knew that time would grow short for it, yet hearing no noyse (the shepheardes being as then run to Basilius) with setled and humbled countenaunce, as a man that should haue spoken of a thing that did not concerne himself, bearing euē in his eyes
sufficient showes, that it was nothing but Philocleas danger, which did any thinge burden his harte, farre stronger then fortune, hauing with vehement embracinges of her, got yet some fruite of his delayed end, he thus aunswered the wise innocency of Philoclea. Lady most worthy not only of life, but to be the verie life of al things the more notable demonstrations you make of the loue, so farre beyond my deserte, with which it pleaseth you to ouercome fortune, in making mee happye; the more am I euen in course of humanitie (to leaue that loues force, which I neither can nor will leaue) bound, to seeke requitals witnes, that I am not vngratefull, to do which the infinitnes of your goodnes being such as it cānot reach vnto it, yet doing al I can and paying my life, which is all I haue, though it be farre (without measure) shorte of your desarte, yet shall I not die in debt, to mine owne dutie. And truly the more excellent arguments you made, to keep me from this passage, imagined farre more terrible then it is; the more plainely it makes mee see what reason I haue, to preuent the losse not only of Arcadia, but all the face of the earth should receaue, i
•
such a tree (which euen in his first spring, doth not onely beare most beautifull blossomes, but most rare fruites) should be so vntimely cut off. Therefore, ô most truely beloued Lady, to whom I desire for both our goods, that these may bee my last wordes, geue me your consent euen out of that wisedome which must needes see, that (besids your vnmatched betternesse, which perchaunce you will not see) it is fitter one diethē both. And since you haue sufficiently showed you loue me, let me claime by that loue, you wil
•
e content rather to let me die contentedly, then wretchedly: rather with a cleare and ioyfull conscience, then with desperate condemnation in my selfe, that I accursed villaine, shoulde bee the meane of banishing from the sight of men the true example of vertue. And because there is nothing lefte me to be imagined, which I so much desire, as that the memory of Pyrocles, may euer haue an allowed place in your wise iudgement, I am content to drawe so much breath longer, as by aunswearing the sweete obiections you alledged, maye bequath (as I thinke) aright conceate vnto you, that this my doinge is out of iudgement, and not sprong of passion. Your father you say, was wont to say, that this like action doth more proceed of feare, of furder euil or shame, then of a true courage, Truly first, they put a very gessing case, speaking of them who can euer after come to tell, with what minde they did it. And as for my parte, I call the immortall truth to witnes, that no feare of torment can appall me: who know it is but diuerse manners of apparelling death: and haue long learned, to set bodely paine but in the second fourme of my being. And as for shame, how can I be ashamed of that, for which my well meaning conscience wil answeare for me to God, and your vnresistable beautie to the world? But to take that argument in his owne force, and graunt it done for auoyding of further paine or dishonour, (for as for the name of feare, it is but an odious title of a passion, giuen to that which true iudgement performeth) graunt, I say, it is, to shun a worse case, & truly I do not see, but that true fortitude, loking into al humaine things with a persisting resolutiō, carried away neither with wonder of pleasing things, nor astonishment of the vnpleasaunt, doth not yet depriue it selfe, of the discerning the difference of euill, but rather is the onely vertue, which with an assured tranquillitye shunnes the greater by the valiant entring into the lesse. Thus for his countries safety he wil spend his life, for the sauing of a lym, he will not niggardly spare his goods; for the sauing of all his body, hee will not spare the cutting of a lym, where indeed the weake harted man will rather dye, then see the face of a surgeon: who mightwith as
good reason saye, that the constant man abides the painefull surgery, for feare of a further euill: but he is content to waite for death it selfe, but neither is true; for neither hath the one any feare, but a well choosing iudgement; nor the other hath any contentment, but onely feare; and not hauing a harte actiuely to performe a matter of paine, is forced passiuely to abide a greater damage. For to doe, requires a whole harte; to suffer falleth easeliest in the broken minds. And if in bodely torment thus, much more in shame; wherein since vallure is a vertue, and vertue is euer limited, we must not runne so infinitely, as to thinke the valiant man is willinglie to suffer any thing, since the very suffering of some things is a certaine proofe of want of courage. And if any thing vnwillinglie among the chiefest may shame goe: for if honour be to be held deere, his contrarye is to be abhorred, and that not for feare, but of a true election. For which is the lesse inconuenient, either the losse of some yeares more or lesse (for once we knowe our liues be not immortall) or the submitting our selues to each vnworthy misery, which the foolish world may lay vpon vs? As for their reason, that feare is contrary to hope, neither do I defend feare, nor much yeeld to the aucthoritye of hope; to eyther of which great enclining shewes but a feeble reason, which must be guided by his seruaunts; and who builds not vppon hope, shall feare no earthquake of despaire. Their last alleadging of the heauenly powers, as it beares the greatest name, so it is the only thing, that at all bred any combate in my minde. And yet I do not see, but that if God hath made vs maisters of any thing, it is of our owne liues; out of which without doing wrong to any body, we are to issue at our owne pleasure. And the same Argument would asmuch preuayle to say we should for no necessitie lay away from vs, any of our ioyntes, since they being made of him, without his warrant we should not depart from them; or if that may be, for a greater cause we may passe to a greater degree. And if we be Lieutenants of God, in this little Castle, do you not thinke we must take warning of him to geue ouer our charge when he leaues vs vnprouided, of good meanes to tarrye in it? No certainelie do I not answered the sorrowfull Philoclea, since it is not for vs to appoint that mightie Maiestie, what time he will helpe vs: the vttermost instant is scope enough for him, to reuoke euery thing to ones owne desire. And therefore to preiudicate his determinacion, is but a doubt of goodnes in him, who is nothing but goodnes. But when in deede he doth either by sicknes, or outward force lay death vpon vs, then are we to take knowledge, that such is his pleasure, and to knowe that all is well that he doth. That we should be maisters of our selues, we can shewe at all no title, nor clayme; since neyther we made our selues, nor bought our selues, we can stand vpon no other right but his guift, which he must limit as it pleaseth him. Neyther is there any proporcion, betwixt the losse of any other limme and that, since the one bends to the preseruing all, the other to the destruction of all; the one takes not away the minde from the actions for which it is placed in the world, the other cuts off all possibilitie of his working. And truly my most deere Pyrocles, I must needes protest vnto you, that I can not thinke your defence euen in rules of vertue sufficient. Sufficient and excellent it were, if the question were of two outward things, wherein a man might by natures freedome determine, whether he would preferre shame to payne; present smaller torment, to greater following, or no. But to this (besides the comparison of the matters vallewes) there is added of the one part a direct euill doing, which maketh the ballance of that side too much vnequall. Since a vertuous man without
any respect, whether the griefe be lesse or more, is neuer to do that which he can not assure himselfe is allowable before the euerliuing rightfulnes. But rather is to thinke honoures or shames, which stande in other mens true or false iudgements, paynes or not paynes, which yet neuer approach our soules, to be nothing in regarde of an vnspotted conscience. And these reasons do I remember, I haue heard good men bring in, that since it hath not his ground in an assured vertue, it proceedes rather of some other disguised passion. Pyrocles was not so much perswaded as delighted, by her well conceaued and sweetely pronounced speaches; but when she had cloased her pittiful discourse, and as it were sealed vp her delightfull lippes, with the moistnes of her teares, which followed still one another like a precious rope of pearle, now thinking it hye time. Be it as you saye (sayde hee most vertuous beawtye) in all the rest, but neuer can God himselfe perswade me, that Pyrocles life is not well lost, for to preserue the most admirable Philoclea. Let that be if it be possible written on my Tombe, and I will not enuye Codrus honour. With that he would agayne haue vsed the barre, meaning if that failde, to leaue his braynes vppon the wall. When Philoclea now brought to that she most feared, kneeled downe vnto him, and embracing so his legges, that without hurting her, (which for nothing he would haue done) he could not ridde himselfe from her, she did with all the coniuring wordes, which the authoritye of loue may laye, beseeche him, he would not nowe so cruelly abandon her, he woulde not leaue her comfortlesse in that miserye, to which he had brought her. That then in deede she woulde euen in her soule accuse him, to haue most fouly betrayed her; that then she should haue cause, to curse the time that euer the name of Pyrocles came to her eares, which otherwise no death could make her do. Will you leaue me, sayde she, not onely dishonoured as supposed vnchaste with you, but as a murderer of you? Will you geue mine eyes such a picture of hell, before my neere approaching death, as to see the murdred bodie of him, I loue more then all the liues that nature can geue? With that she sware by the hyest cause of all deuocions, that if he did perseuer in that cruell resolucion, she would (though vntruly not onely confesse to her father, that with her cōsent this acte had bene committed, but if that would not serue (after she had puld out her owne eyes, made accursed by such a sight) she would geue her selfe so terrible a death, as she might think the paine of it would counteruaile the neuer dying paine of her minde. Now therefore kill your selfe, to crowne this vertuous action with infamy: kill your selfe to make me (whome you say you loue) as long as I after liue, change my louing admiracion of you, to a detestable abhorring your name. And so indeede you shall haue the ende you shoote at, for in steede of one death, you shall geue me a thousand, and yet in the meane time, depriue me of the helpe God may sende me. Pyrocles euen ouerwayed with her so wisely vttred affection, finding her determinacion so fixed, that his ende should but depriue them both of a present contentment, and not auoyde a comming euill (as a man that ranne not vnto it, by a sodayne qualme of passion, but by a true vse of reason, preferring her life to his owne) nowe that wisedome did manifest vnto him, that waye woulde not preuayle, he retired himselfe, with as much tranquillitie from it, as before he had gone vnto it. Like a man, that had set the keeping or leauing of the bodye, as a thing without himselfe, and so had thereof a freed and vntroubled consideracion. Therefore throwing away the barre from him, and taking her vp from the place,
where he thought the consummating of all beawties, very vnworthely lay, suffring all his sences to deuoure vp their chiefest foode, which he assured himselfe they should shortly after for euer be depriued of: well, said he, most deere Lady, whose contentment I preferre before mine own, and iudgement esteeme more then mine owne, I yeeld vnto your pleasure. The gods send you haue not woon your owne losse. For my part they are my witnesses, that I thinke I do more at your commaundement, in delayeng my death, then another would in bestowing his life. But now, sayd he, as thus farre I haue yeelded vnto you, so graunt me in recompence thus much againe, that I may finde your loue in graunting, as you haue sound your authoritye in obteyning. My humble suite is, you will say I came in by force into your Chamber, for so am I resolued now to affirme, and that will be the best for vs both; but in no case name my name, that whtsoeuer come of me my house be not dishonored. Philoclea fearing least refusall would turne him backe againe, to his violent refuge, gaue him a certayne countenance, that might shewe she did yeeld to his request, the latter part whereof indeed she meant for his sake to performe. Neyther could they spend more wordes together, for Philanax, with twentie of the noblest personages of Arcadia after him, were come into the Lodge, Philanax making the rest stay belowe, for the reuerence he bare to womanhood, as stillie as he could came to the dore, and opening it, drewe the eyes of these two dolefull louers vpon him. Philoclea cloasing againe for modestie sake, within her bed the ritchesse of her beawties, but Pyrocles tooke holde of his barre, minding at least to dye, before the excellent Philoclea should receyue any outrage. But Philanax rested awhile vppon himselfe, stricken with admiracion at the goodlie shape of Pyrocles, whome before he had neuer seene, and withall remembring besides others the notable acte he had done (when with his courage and eloquence, he had saued Basilius,
perchaunce the whole state from vtter ruyne) he felte a kinde of relenting minde towardes him. But when that same thought, came waighted on, with the remembraunce of his maisters death, which he by all probabilities thought he had bene of Councell vnto with the Queene, compassion turned to hatefull passion, and lefte in Philanax a straunge medley, betwixt pittie and reuenge, betwixt lyking and abhorring. O Lorde, sayde hee to himselfe, what wonders doth nature in our tyme, to set wickednesse so beawtifully garnished? and that which is straungest, out of one spring to make wonderfull effectes both of vertue and vice to issue? Pyrocles seeing him in such a muse, neyther knowing the man, nor the cause of his comming, but assuring himselfe, it was for no good, yet thought best to begin with him in this sort. Gentleman sayde hee, what is the cause of your comming to my Lady Philocleas chamber? is it to defende her from such violence, as I might goe about to offer vnto her? if it be so, truly your comming is vayne, for her owne vertue hath bene a sufficient resistaunce, there needes no strength to be added to so inuiolate chastetie, the excellencie of her mind, makes her bodie impregnable. Which for mine own part I had soone yelded to confesse, with going out of this place (where I found but little comfort being so disdainefully receiued) had I not bene, I know not by whom presently vpon my cōming hether, so locked into this chamber, that I could neuer escape hence: where I was fettred in the most gilty shame, that euer mā was, seing what a paradise of vnspotted goodnes, my filthy thoughts sought to defile. If for that therfore you come, alredy I assure you, your arrāt is performed; but if it be to bring me to any punishmēt
whatsouer, for hauing vndertaken so vnexcusable presumption. Truly I beare such an accuser about me of mine own conscience, that I willingly submit my selfe vnto it. Only this much let me demaund of you, that you will be a witnesse vnto the King what you heare me say, & oppose your selfe, that neither his sodaine fury, nor any other occasion may offer any hurt to this Lady; in whome you see nature hath accomplished so much, that I am faine to lay mine owne faultines, as a foile of her purest excellency. I can say no more, but looke vppon her beawtie, remember her bloud, consider her yeares, and iudge rightly of her vertues, and I doubt not a gentlemans mind, will then be a sufficient enstructer vnto you, in this I may tearme it miserable chaunce, happened vnto her by my vnbridled audacitie. Philanax was content to heare him out, not for any fauour he owed him, but to see whether he would reueale any thing of the originall cause, and purpose of the kings death. But finding it so farre from that, that he named Basilius vnto him, as supposing him aliue, thinking it rather cunning then ignorance: Yong man, said he, whome I haue cause to hate before I haue meane to know, you vse but a point of skill, by confessing the manifest smaller fault, to be beleeued hereafter in the deniall of the greater. But for that matter, all passeth to one end, and hereafter we shal haue leisure by torments to seke the truth, if the loue of truth it selfe will not bring you vnto it. As for my Lady Philoclea, if it so fall out as you say, it shall be the more fit for her yeares, & comedy for the great house she is come of, that an ill gouerned beawtie hath not cancelled the rules of vertue. But howsoeuer it be, it is not for you to teach an Arcadian, what reuerent duty we owe to any of that progeny. But, said he, come you with me without resistance, for the one cannot auaile, and the other may procure pitie. Pitie? said Pyrocles with a bitter smiling, disdained, with so currish an answere: no, no, Arcadian,
I can quickly haue pitie of my selfe, and I would think my life most miserable, which should be a gift of thine. Only I demaund this innocent Ladies securitie, which vntill thou hast cōfirmed vnto me by an oath, assure thy selfe, the first that layes hands vpō her, shall leaue his life for a testimony of his sacriledge. Philanax with an inward storme, thinking it most manifest they were both, he at least, of counsell with the kings death: well, said he, you speake much to me of the king: I do here sweare vnto you, by the loue I haue euer borne him, she shal haue no worse, howsoeuer it fal out, then her own parents. And vpon that word of yours I yeld, said the poore Pyrocles, deceiued by him that ment not to deceiue him. Then did Philanax deliuer him into the hands of a noble man in the company, euery one desirous to haue him in his charge, so much did his goodly presence (wherin true valure shined) breede a delightfull admiration in all the beholders. Philanax himselfe stayed with Philoclea, to see whether of her he might learne some disclosing of this former conclusion. But she sweet Lady whom first a kindly shamefastnes had separated from Pyrocles, (hauing bene left in a more open view then her modesty would well beare) then the attending her fathers comming, and studying how to behaue her selfe towards him for both their safeties, had called her spirits all within her: now that vpon a sodaine Pyrocles was deliuered out of the chamber from her, at the first she was so surprized with the extreame stroke of the wofull sight, that, like those that in their dreames are taken with some ougly vision, they would fain cry for help, but haue no force, so remained she awhile quite depriued not only of speach, but almost of any other liuely actiō. But whē indeed Pyrocles was quite drawne frō her eys, & that her vital strēgth begā to return vnto her, now not knowing what they did to Pyrocles, but (according to
the nature of loue) fearing the worst, wringing her hands, and letting abundance of teares be the first part of her eloquence, bending her Amber-crowned head ouer her bed side to the hard-hearted Philanax: O Philanax, Philanax, sayd she, I knowe how much authoritye you haue with my father: there is no man whose wisedome he so much esteemes, nor whose faith so much he reposeth vpon. Remember how oft you haue promised your seruice vnto me, how oft you haue geuen me occasion to beleeue that there was no Lady in whose fauor you more desired to remayne: and, if the remembrance be not vnpleasant to your mind, or the rehearsall vnfitting for my fortune, remember there was a time when I could deserue it. Now my chaunce is turned, let not your truth turne. I present my selfe vnto you, the most humble and miserable suppliant liuing, neither shall my desire be great: I seeke for no more life then I shall be found worthy of. If my bloud may wash away the dishonor of Arcadia, spare it not, although through me it hath in deede neuer bene dishonored. My only sute is you wil be a meane for me, that while I am suffered to enioy this life, I may not be separated from him, to whom the Gods haue ioyned me, and that you determine nothing of him more cruelly then you do of me. If you rightly iudge of what hath past, wherein the Gods (that should haue bene of our mariage) are witnesses of our innocencies: then procure, we may liue together. But if my father will not so conceiue of vs, as the fault (if any were) was vnited, so let the punishmēt be vnited also. There was no man that euer loued either his Prince, or any thing pertaining to him with a truer zeale then Philanax did. This made him euen to the depth of his heart receiue a most vehemēt griefe, to see his master made as it were more miserable after death. And for himselfe, calling to mind in what sort his life had bene preserued by Philoclea, what time taken by Amphialus he was like to suffer a cruell death, there was nothing could haue kept him from falling to all tender pittie, but the perfect perswasion he had, that all this was ioyned to the packe of his maisters death, which the misconceiued speech of marriage made him the more beleeue. Therefore first muttering to himselfe such like words: The violence the gentleman spake of, is now turned to mariage: he alledged Mars, but she speakes of Venus. O vnfortunate maister. This hath bene that faire diuell Gynaecia: sent away one of her daughters, prostituted the other, empoysoned thee, to ouerthrowe the diademe of Arcadia. But at length thus vnto her selfe he sayde: If your father, Madame, were now to speake vnto, truly there should no body be found a more ready aduocate for you, then my selfe. For I would suffer this fault, though very great to be blotted out of my minde, by your former led life, your benefit towards my selfe, and being daughter to such a father. But since among your selues you haue taken him away, in whome was the only power to haue mercy, you must now be clothed in your owne working: and looke for none other, then that which dead pittilesse lawes may allot vnto you. For my part, I loued you for your vertue, but now where is that? I loued you in respect of a priuate benefit, what is that in comparison of the publike losse? I loued you for your father, vnhappy folks you haue robbed the world of him. These words of her father were so little vnderstood by the only well vnderstanding Philoclea, that she desired him to tell her, what he meant to speake in such darke sort vnto her of her lord and father, whose displeasure was more dreadfull vnto her, then her punishment: that she was free in her owne conscience, she had neuer deserued euill of him, no not in this last fact: wherein if it pleased him to proceed with patience, he should finde her choise had not bene vnfortunate. He
that saw her words written in the plaine table of her faire face, thought it impossible there should therin be contained deceite: and therfore so much the more abashed: Why, said he, Madame, would you haue me thinke, you are not of conspiracy with the Princesse Pamelas flight, and your fathers death? with that word the sweet Lady gaue a pittifull cry, hauing streight in her face & breast abundance of witnesses, that her hart was far from any such abhominable consent. Ah of all sides vtterly ruined Philoclea, said she, now in deed I may well suffer all conceite of hope to dye in mee. Deare father where was I, that might not do you my last seruice before soone after miserably following you? Philanax perceiued the demonstracion so liuely & true in her, that he easily acquited her in his heart of that fact, and the more was moued to ioyne with her in most heartie lamentation. But remembring him, that the burthen of the state, and punishment of his masters murderers, lay all vpon him: Well, sayde he, Madame, I can do nothing, without all the states of Arcadia: what they will determine of you, I know not, for my part your speaches would much preuaile with me, but that I finde not how to excuse, your geuing ouer your body to him, that for the last proofe of his treason, lent his garments to disguise your mi
•
erable mother, in the most vile fact she hath cōmitted. Hard sure it will be to separate your causes, with whome you haue so neerely ioyned your selfe. Neither do I desire it, said the sweetly weeping Philoclea: whatsoeuer you determine of him, do that likewise to me; for I knowe, from the fountaine of vertue nothing but vertue could euer proceede; only as you finde him faultlesse, let him finde you fauourable, and build not my dishonor vpō surmises. Philanax feeling his hart more & more mollifieng vnto her, renewed the image of his dead master in his fancy, and vsing that for the spurres of his reuēgefull choller, went sodainly, without any more speach, from the desolate Lady, to whome now fortune seemed to threaten vnripe death, and vndeserued shame among her least euils. But Philanax leauing good guard vpon the Lodge, went himselfe to see the order of his other prisoners, whome euen then as he issued, he found increased by this vnhoped meanes.
The noble Pamela hauing deliuered ouer the burthen of her fearefull cares to the naturall ease of a well refreshing sleepe, reposed both mind & body vpō the trusted support of her princely shepheard, whē with the brayeng cryes of a rascall company she was robbed of her quiet, so that at one instāt she opened her eyes, & the enraged Musidorus rose frō her, enraged betwixt the doubt he had what the
•
e men would go about, & the spite he conceiued against their ill-pleasing presence. But the clownes, hauing with their hideous noyse brought them both to their feet, had soone knowledge what guests they had found, for in deede these were the skummy remnant of those rebels, whose naughty minds could not trust so much to the goodnes of their Prince, as to lay their hangworthy necks vpō the constancy of his promised pardon. Therfore whē the rest (who as shepe had but followed their fellowes) so sheepishly had submitted thēselues, these only cōmitted their safety to the thickest part of those desert woods, who as they were in the constitution of their mindes little better then beastes, so were they apt to degenerate to a beastly kinde of life, hauing now framed their gluttonish stomackes to haue for foode the wilde benefites of nature, the vttermost ende they had, being but to drawe out (as much as they could) the line of a tedious life. In this sorte vagabonding in those vntroden places, they were guided by the euerlasting Iustice, vsing themselues to bee punishers of theyr faultes, and making theyr owne actions the beginning of their chastizements, (vnhappely both for him and themselues) to light on Musidorus. Whom as soone
as they saw turned towards them, they full well remembred it was he, that accompanyed with Basilius, had come to the succour of Zelmane: and had left among some of them bloudie tokens of his valure. As for Pamela, they had many times seene her. Thus fyrst sturred vp with a rusticall reuenge against him, and then desire of spoyle, to helpe their miserable wants, but chiefly thinking it was the way to confirme their owne pardon, to bring the Princesse backe vnto her father (whome they were sure he would neuer haue sent so farre so sleightlie accompanyed) without any other denouncing of warre, set altogither vpon the worthy Musidorus. Who being before hand asmuch enflamed against them, gaue them so braue a welcome, that the smart of some made the rest stand further off, crying and prating against him, but like bad curres, rather barking then cloasing; he in the meane time placing his trembling Lady to one of the Pyne trees, and so setting himselfe before her, as might shewe the cause of his courage grewe in himselfe, but the effect was only employed in her defence. The villaines that now had a second proofe, how ill wordes they had for such a sword, turned all the course of their violence into throwing dartes and stones, in deede the only way to ouermaister the valure of Musidorus. Who finding them some already touch, some fall so neere his chiefest life Pamela, that in the ende some one or other might happe to doo an vnsuccourable mischiefe, setting all his hope in despaire, ranne out from his Lady among them. Who streight like so many swyne, when a hardy mastife sets vpon them, dispersed themselues. But the first he ouertooke, as he ranne away, carying his head as farre before him, as those maner of runnings are wont to doo, with one blowe strake it so cleane off, that it falling betwixt the handes, and the body falling vppon it, it made a shewe as though the fellow had had great haste to gather vp his head agayne. Another the speede he made to runne for the best game, bare him full butte agaynst a tree, so that tumbling backe with a brused face, and a dreadfull expectation, Musidorus was streight vpon him: and parting with his sword one of his legges from him, left him to make a roaring lamentation that his morter-treading was marred for euer. A third finding his feete too slowe, aswell as his handes too weake, sodaynely turned backe, beginning to open his lippes for mercye. But before hee had well entred a rudely compilde oration, Musidorus blade was come betweene his iawes into his throate, and so the poore man rested there for euer with a very euill mouthfull of an answere. Musidorus in this furious chafe would haue followed some other of these hatefull wretches, but that he heard his Lady cry for helpe, whome three of this villanous crue, had (whiles
Musidorus followed their fellowes) compassing about some trees, sodainly come vpon and surprized, threatning to kill her if she cried, and meaning to conuey her out of sight, while the Prince was making his bloud-thirstie chase. But she that was resolued, no worse thing could fall vnto her, then the being depriued of him, on whome she had established all her comfort, with a pittifull cry fetched his eyes vnto her: who then thinking so many weapons thrust into his eyes, as with his eyes he sawe bent against her, made all hartie speede to her succour. But one of them wiser then his companions, set his dagger to her Alablaster throate, swearing if hee threwe not away his sword, he would presently kill her. There was neuer poore scholler, that hauing in stede of his booke some playing toy about him, did more sodainly cast it from him, at the child-feared presence of a cruell Scholemaister. Then the valiant Musidorus, discharged himselfe of his only defence,
whē he saw it stood vpō the instāt point of his Ladies life. And holding vp his noble hands to so vnworthy audience, O Arcadians, it is I that haue done, you the wrong, she is your Princesse (said he) shee neuer had will to hurt you, and you see shee hath no power. Vse your choller vpō me that haue better deserued it, do not your selues the wrong to doe her any hurte, which in no time nor place will euer bee forgiuen you. They that yet trusted not to his courtesie, bad him stande further off from his sword, which he obediently did. So farre was loue aboue al other thoughts in him. Then did they call together the rest of their fellowes, who though they were fewe, yet according to their number posses
•
ed many places. And then began these sauage Senators to make a consultation, what they should do: some wishing to spoile them of their Iewels and let them go on their iourney, (for that if they carried them back they were sure they should haue least parte of their pray) others preferring their old homes to any thing, desired to bring them to Basilius as pledges of their surety: and ther wanted not which cried the safest way was to kill them both; to such an vnworthy thraldom were these great and excellent personages brought. But the most part resisted to the killing of the Princesse, fore-seing their liues would neuer bee safe after such a fact committed: and beganne to wish rather the spoyle then death of Musidorus: when the villaine that had his legge cut off, came scrawling towardes them, and being helped to them by one of the companie, began with a growning voice, and a disfigured face, to demaunde the reuenge of his blood: which since hee had spent with them in their defence, it were no reason he should be suffered by them to die discontented. The onely contentment he required was that by their helpe with his own hands he might put his murderer to some cruel death, he would faine haue cried more against Musidorus, but that the much losse of bloud helped on with this vehemencie, choked vp the spirits of his life, leauing him to make betwixt his body and soule an ill fauoured partition. But they seing their fellow in that sorte die before their faces, did swell in newe mortall rages: All resolued to kill him, but nowe onely considering what manner of terrible death they should inuent for him. Thus was a while the agrement of his slaying, broken by the disagrement of the manner of it; & extremitie of cruelty grew for a time, to be the stop of crueltie. At length they were resolued, euery one to haue a pece of him and to become all aswell hangmen as iudges: when Pamela tearing her heare, and falling downe among them, somtimes with al the sorte of humble praiers, mixt with promises of great good turnes, (which they knew her state was able to performe) sometimes threatning them, that if they kild him and not her, she would not onely reuenge it vpon them, but vpon all their wiues and children; bidding them consider that though they might thinke shee was come away in her fathers displeasure, yet they might be sure hee would euer shewe himselfe a father, that the Gods woulde neuer if shee liued, put her in so base estate, but that she should haue abilitie to plague such as they were returning a fresh to prayers and promises, and mixing the same againe with threatninges, brought them (who were now growne colder in their fellowes cause, who was past aggrauating the matter, with his cryes) to determine with themselues there was no way, but either to kil them both or saue them both. As for the killing, already they hauing aunsweared themselues that that was a way to make them Cittezens of the woodes for euer; they did in fine conclude they would retourne them backe againe to the King which they did not doubt, would bee cause of a greate reward, besides their safetie from their fore-deserued punishment. Thus hauing either by fortune, or the force of
those two louers inward working vertue, setled their cruel harts to this gētler course they tooke the two horses, and hauing set vpon them their princely prisoners, they retorned towards the lodge. The villaines hauing decked al their heads with lawrel branches, as thinking they had done a notable acte, singing and showting, ranne by them in hope to haue brought them the same day againe to the King. But the time was so farre spent, that they were forced to take vp that nights lodging in the middest of the woods. Where while the clownes continued their watch about them, nowe that the night, according to his darke nature, did add a kind of desolation to the pensiue harts of these two afflicted louers, Musidorus taking the tender hand of Pamela, & bedewing it with his teares
•
in this sort gaue an issue to the swelling of his harts grief. Most excellent Lady said hee; in what case thinke you am I with my selfe, howe vnmerciful iudgements do I lay vpon my soule, now that I know not what God, hath so reuerssed my wel meaning enterprise, as in steed of doing you that honour which I hoped (and not without reason hoped) Thessalia should haue yeelded vnto you, am now like to become a wretched instrumēt of your discomfort? Alas how contrary an end haue al the enclinations of my mind taken! my faith falls out a treason vnto you, and the true honour I beare you, is the fielde wherein your dishonour is like to bee sowen! But I inuoke that vniuersal and only wisdome, (which examining the depth of harts, hath not his indgement fixed vpon the euent) to beare testimonie with me that my desire though in extremest vehemencie, yet did not so ouercharge my remembrance, but that as farre as mans wit might be extended, I sought to preuent al-things that might fall to your hurt. But now that all the euil fortunes of euil fortune haue crossed my best framed entent, I am most miserable in that, that I cannot only not geue you helpe, but which is worst of all; am barred from giuing you counsail. For how should I open my mouth to counsaile you in that, wherein by my councel you are most vndeseruedly fallen? The faire and wise Pamela, although full of cares of the vnhappie turning of this matter, yet seing the greefe of Musidorus onely stirred for her, did so treade downe all other motions with the true force of vertue, that she thus aunswered him, hauing first kissed him, which before she had neuer done either loue so cōmaunding her, which doubted how long they should enioy one another; or of a liuely spark of noblenes, to descend in most fauour to one, when he is lowest in affliction. My deere and euer deere Musidorus said shee, a greater wronge, doe you to your selfe, that will torment you thus with griefe, for the fault of fortune. Since a man is bound no further to himselfe, then to doe wisely; chaunce is only to trouble them, that stand vpon chaunce. But greater is the wronge (at least if any thinge that comes from you, may beare the name of wrong) you doe vnto me, to thinke me either so childish, as not to perceaue your faithful faultlessnes; or perceauing it, so basely disposed, as to let my harte be ouerthrown, standing vpon it selfe in so vnspotted a purenes. Hold for certaine most worthy Musidorus, it is your selfe I loue, which can no more be diminished by these showers of euill hap, then flowers are marred with the timely raynes of Aprill. For how can I want comforte that haue the true and liuing comforte of my vnblemished vertue? And how can I want honour as long as Musidorus in whom indeed honour is, doth honour me? Nothing bred from my self can discomfort me: & fooles opinions I wil not recken as dishonour. Musidorus looking vp to the starres, O mind of minds said he, the liuing power of all things which dost with al these eies behold our euer varying actiōs, accept into thy fauorable eares this praier of mine. Yf I may any longer hold out this dwelling on the earth, which is
called a life, graunt me abilitie to deserue at this Ladies handes the grace shee hath shewed vnto me; graunt me wisdome to know her wisdome, and goodnes so to encrease my loue of her goodnes, that all mine owne chosen desires, be to my selfe but second to her determinations. What soeuer I be, let it be to her seruice, let me herein be satisfied, that for such infinite fauours of vertue, I haue some way wrought her satisfaction. But if my last time aprocheth, and that I am no longer to be amongst mortall creatures, make yet my death serue her to some purpose, that hereafter shee may not haue cause to repent her selfe that she bestowed so excellent a minde vpon Musidorus, Pamela, coulde not choose, but accord the conceite of their fortune to these passionate prayers, in so much that her constant eyes yeelded some teares, which wiping from her faire face with Musidorus hande, speaking softly vnto him as if she had feared more any body should be witnes of her weakenes, then of any thing els shee had said, you see said she my Prince and onely Lord, what you worke in me by your much greuing for me. I praye you thinke I haue no ioye but in you, and if you fill that with sorrow what do you leaue for mee? What is prepared for vs we know not; but that with sorrow we cannot preuent it, wee knowe. Now let vs turne from these things, and thinke you how you will haue me behaue my selfe towardes you in this matter. Musidorus finding the authoritie of her speach confirmed with direct necessitie, the first care came to his minde was of his deare friend and cosin
Pyrocles: with whome long before hee had concluded what names they shoulde beare, if vpon any occasion they were forced to geue them selues out for great men, and yet not make them selues fully knowen. Now fearing least if the Princes should name him for Musidorus, the fame of their two being together, would discouer Pyrocles; holding her hand betwixt his handes a good while together: I did not thinke most excellent Princesse saide hee, to haue made any further request vnto you, for hauing bene alredie to you so vnfortunate a suiter, I knowe not what modestie can beare any further demaūd. But the estate of on young man whom (next to you, far aboue my selfe) I loue more then all the world, one worthy of all well being for the notable constitution of the mind, and most vnworthy to receaue hurt by me, whom he doth in all faith and constancie loue, the pittie of him onely goes beyond all resolution to the contrarie. Then did hee to the Princesse great admiration tell her the whole story as farre as he knew of it, and that when they made the greuous disiūction of their long company, they had concluded, Musidorus should entitle himself Paladius, Prince of Iberia, and Pyrocles should be Daiphantus of Lycia.
Now said Musidorus he keeping a womans habit is to vse no other name then Zelmane, but I that finde it best, of the on side for your honour, you went away with a Prince and not with a sheepheard: of the other side accompting my death lesse euil, then the betraying of that sweete frende of mine, will take this meane betwixt both, and vsing the name of Paladius if the respect of a Prince will stop your fathers furie, that will serue aswell as Musidorus vntil Pyrocles fortune being som way established, I may freely geue good proofe that the noble contrie of Thessalia is mine: and if that will not mitigate your fathers opinion to me wards (nature I hope working in your excellencies wil make him deale well by you) for my parte the image of death is nothing fearefull vnto me: and this good I shall haue reaped by it, that I shall leaue my most esteemed friend in no danger to be disclosed by me. And besides (since I must confesse, I am not without a remorse of his case) my vertuous mother shal not know her sonnes violent death hid vnder the fame will goe of Paladius. But as long as her
yeares now of good number be counted among the liuing, shee may ioye her selfe with some possibilitie of my returne. Pamela promising him vpon no occasion euer to name him, fell into extremytie of weping, as if her eyes had beene content to spend all their seing moistnes, now that there was speech of the losse of that, which they held as their chiefest light. So that Musidorus was forced to repaire her good counsailes, with sweete consolations, which continued betwixt them vntill it was about midnight, that sleep hauing stolne into their heauie sences and now absolutely commaunding in their vitall powers, lefte them delicately wound on in anothers armes quietly to waite for the comming of the morning. Which as soone as shee appeared to play her parte, laden (as you haue heard) with so many well occasioned lamentations. Their lobbish garde (who all night had kept themselues awake, with prating how valiant deedes they had done when they ranne away: and how faire a death their felowe had died, who at his last gaspe sued to bee a hangman) awaked them, and set them vpon their horses, to whom the very shining force of excellent vertue, though in a very harrish subiect, had wrought a kinde of reuerence in them;
Musidorus as he rid among them, (of whom they had no other holde but of Pamela) thinking it want of a well squared iudgement, to leaue any meane vnassayed of sauing their liues, to this purpose spake to his vnseemly gardians, vsing a plaine kind of phrase to make his speach the more credible. My maisters said he, there is no man that is wise but hath in what soeuer hee doth some purpose whereto hee directes his doinges, which so long he followes, till he see that either that purpose is not worth the paines, or that another doinge caries with it a better purpose. That you are wise in what you take in hand I haue to my cost learned: that makes me desire you to tell me, what is your ende in carying the Princesse and me backe to her father. Pardon, saide one, rewarde cried another, well saide he take both; although I know you are so wise to remember, that hardly they both will goe togeather, being of so contrary a making, for the ground of pardon is an euill, neither any man pardons but remembers an euill done, the cause of rewarde is the opinion of some good acte, and who so rewardeth that, holdes the chief place of his fancie. Now one man of one companie, to haue the same consideration both of good and euill, but that the conceite of pardoning, if it bee pardoned, will take away the minde of rewarding, is very hard, if not impossible. For either euen in iustice will he punish the fault as well as reward the desert, or els in mercie ballance the one by the other: so that the not chastising shalbe a sufficient satisfiing. Thus then you may see that in your owne purpose, rests greate vncertaintie. But I will graunt that by this your deede you shall obtaine your double purpose. Yet consider I pray you whether by another meane, that may not better be obtained, & then I doubt not your wisdomes wil teach you to take hold of the better. I am sure you knowe, any body were better haue no neede of a pardon then enioy a pardon; for as it carries with it the suretie of a preserued life, so beares it a continuall note of a deserued death. This therefore (besides the daunger you may runne into, my Lady Pamela being the vndoubted enheritrixe of this state, if shee shall hereafter seeke to reuenge your wrong done her) shall bee continually cast in your teeth, as men dead by the lawe; the honester sorte will disdaine your company & your children shalbe the more basely reputed of, & you yourselues in euery slight fault hereafter, as men once condemned, aptest to bee ouerthrowne. Now if you will, (I doubt not you will, for you are wise) turne your course, and garde my Lady Pamela thither ward, whether shee was going: first you neede not doubt to aduenture
your fortunes where shee goes, and there shall you be assured in a countrie as good and rich as this, of the same manners and language, to bee so farre from the conceate of a pardon, as we both shall be forced to acknowledge, we haue receaued by your meanes what soeuer we holde deere in this life. And so for rewarde iudge you whether it be not more likely, you shall there receaue it where you haue done no euill, but singuler and vndeserued goodnes; or here where this seruice of yours shalbe diminished by your dutie, and blemished by your former fault. Yes I protest and sweare vnto you, by the faire eyes of that Lady, there shall no Gentlemen in all that country bee preferred. You shall haue riches, ease, pleasure, and that which is best to such worthy mindes, you shall not bee forced to crie mercy for a good facte. You onely of all the Arcadians, shall haue the prayse in continuing in your late valiaunt attempte, and not basely bee brought vnder a halter for seeking the libertie of Arcadia. These wordes in their mindes, who did nothing for any loue of goodnes, but onely as their senses presented greater showes of proffit, beganne to make them wauer, and some to clappe their hands and scratch their heades, and sweare it was the best way. Others that would seeme wiser then the rest to capitulate what tenements they should haue, what subsidies they should pay, others to talke of their wiues, in doubt whether it were best to send for thē, or to take new wher they went, most, (like fooles) not reddely thinking what was next to bee done, but imagining what cheere they woulde make when they came there, one or two of the least discourses beginning to turne their faces towards the woods which they had lefte. But being nowe come within the plaine neere to the lodges, vnhappily they espied a troupe of horsmen. But then their false harts had quickly for the present feare, forsaken their last hopes, and therfore keeping on the way toward the lodge, with songes of cries and ioye, the horsemen who were some of them. Philanax had sent out to the search of Pamela came gallowping vnto them; marueyling who they were that in such a generall mourning, durst singe ioyfull tunes, and in so publicke a ruine were the lawrell tokens of victorie. And that which seemed straungest, they might see two among them vnarmed like prisoners, but riding like captaines. But when they came neerer, they perceaued the one was a Lady, and the Lady Pamela. Then glad they had by happ found that which they so litle hoped to meete withall, taking these clownes (who first resisted them, for the desire they had to be the deliuerers of the two excellent prisoners, learning that they were of those rebells, which had made the daungerous vprore, aswell vnder cullour to punish that, as this their last withstanding them, but indeed their principal cause being, because they themselues would haue the onely praise of their owne quest, they suffered not one of them to liue. Marry three of the stubbernest of them they lefte their bodies hanging vppon the trees, because their doing might carry the likelier forme of iudgement. Such an vnlooked for end did the life of iustice worke, for the naughtie minded wretches, by subiects to be executed, that would haue executed Princes: and to suffer that without lawe, which by lawe they had deserued. And thus these yonge folkes twise prisoners, before any due arrest, deliuered of their iayloures but not of their iayle, had rather change then respit of misery, these souldiers that tooke them with verie fewe wordes of entertainement, hasting to carrie them to their Lorde Philanax: to whom they came, euen as he going out of the Lady Philocleas chamber, had ouertaken Pyrocles, whom before hee had deliuered to the custody of a noble man of that countrie. When Pyrocles led towardes his prison sawe his friend Musidorus, with the
noble Lady Pamela in that in expected sorte returned, his griefe, (if any griefe were in a minde which had placed euery thing according to his naturall worthe) was verie much augmented, for besides some small hope hee had, if Musidorus had once bene cleere of Arcadia, by his dealing and aucthoritie to haue brought his onely gladsome desires to a good issue: The hard estate of his friend did no lesse nay rather more vexe him, then his owne. For so indeede it is euer founde, where valure and friendshipp are perfectly coopled in one hart, the reason being, that the resolute man, hauing once disgested in his iudgement the worst extremitie of his owne case, and hauing either quiet expelled, or at least repelled, all passion, which ordinarilie followes an ouerthrowne fortune, not knowing his friendes minde so well as his owne, nor with what pacience he brookes his case, (which is as it were the materiall cause of making a man happie or vnhappie) doubts whether his friend accomptes not him selfe more miserable, and so indeede bee more lamentable. But assoone as Musidorus was brought by the souldiers neere vnto Philanax, Pyrocles not knowing whether euer after hee should bee suffered to see his friende, and determining there could be no aduauntage by dissembling a not knowing of him leapt sodainelie from their hands that helde him, and passing with a strength strengthened with a true affection, thorowe them that encompassed Musidorus, he embrased him as fast as hee coulde in his armes. And kissing his cheekes, O my Palladius saide he, let not our vertue now abandon vs; let vs proue our mindes are no slaues to fortune, but in aduersitie can tryumph ouer aduersitie. Deere Daiphantus aunsweared Musidorus (seing by his apparell his being a man was reuealed) I thanke you for this best care of my best parte. But feare not, I haue kept too long company with you to want nowe a thorowe determination of these things, I well know there is nothing euill but within vs, the rest is either naturall or accidentall. Philanax finding them of so neare acquaintaunce, be ganne presently to examine them a parte: but such resolution hee mett within them, that by no such meanes hee coulde learne furder, then it pleased them to deliuer. So that he thought best to put them both in one place, with espiall of there wordes and behauiour, that waye to sifte out the more of these fore passed mischeifes. And for that purpose gaue them both vnto the nobleman, whoe before had the custodie of Pyrocles, by name Simpathus, leauing a trustie seruant of his owne to geue dilligent watch to what might passe betwixte them. No man that hath euer passed thorow the schoole of affectiō, needs doub
•
what a tormenting grief it was to the noble Pamela, to haue the company of him taken from her, to whose vertuous company she had bound her life. But waying with her self, it was fit for her honour, till her doing were clearely manifested, that they shoulde remaine seperate: kept downe the rising tokens of greefe; shewing passion in nothing but her eyes, which accompanied Musidorus euen vnto the tent, whether he and Pyrocles were ledde. Then with a countenaunce more princely then she was woont, according to the woont of hiest hartes (like the Palme tree striuing most vpwarde, when he is most burdened) she commaunded Philanax to bring her to her father and mother, that she might render them accompte of her doings. Philanax shewing a sullaine kinde of reuerence vnto her, as a man that honoured her as his, Maisters heire, but much misliked her for her, in his conceite, dishonorable proceedings, tolde her what was past, rather to answere her, then that hee thought shee was ignoraunt of it. But her good spirite did presently suffer a true compassionate affliction of those hard aduentures: which crossing her armes, looking a greate while on the grounde, with those
eyes which let fall many teares, she well declared. But in the ende remembring howe necessarye it was for her, not to loose her selfe in such an extremitye, she strengthened her well created hearte, and stoutely demaunded Philanax, what aucthoritye then they had to laye handes of her person, who being the vndoubted heyre, was then the lawfull Princesse of that Kingdome. Philanax answered, her Grace knewe the auncient lawes of Arcadia bare, she was to haue no swaye of gouernment till she came to one and twentye yeares of age, or were marryed. And marryed I am replyed the wise Princesse, therefore I demaunde your dewe allegeaunce. The gods forbid sayde Philanax, Arc
•
dia
shoulde be a dowery of such marriages. Besides hee toulde her, all the States of her Countrye were euill satisfyed, touching her Fathers death; whiche likewise according to the Statutes of Arcadia, was euen that daye to bee iudged of, before the bodye were remoued, to receyue his princely funeralls. After that past, she shoulde haue such obedience, as by the Lawes was due vnto her, desyring God she woulde showe her selfe better in publicke gouernment, then she had done in priuate. She woulde haue spoken to the Gentlemen and people gathered about her: but Philanax fearing least thereby some commotion mighte arise, or at least a hinderaunce of executing hys maisters murderers, which hee longed after more then any thing, hasted her vp to the Lodge, where her Sister was, and there with a chosen companye of Souldyers to garde the place, lefte her with Philoclea, Pamela protesting they layde violent handes of her, and that they entred into rebellious attemptes agaynst her. But hye tyme it was for Philanax so to doo, for alreadye was all the whole multitude fallne into confused and daungerous deuisions.
There was a notable example, how great dissipations, Monarchall gouernement are subiect vnto. For nowe theyr Prince and guide had lefte them, they had not experience to rule, and had not whome to obaye. Publicke matters had euer bene priuately gouerned, so that they had no liuely taste what was good for themselues. But euery thing was eyther vehemently desirefull, or extreamely terrible. Neighbours inuasions, ciuill dissention, crueltye of the comming Prince, and whatsoeuer in common sence carries a dreadfull shewe, was in all mens heads, but in fewe how to preuent: harkening on euery rumor, suspecting euery thing, condemning them whome before they had honoured, making strange and impossible tales of the Kings death, while they thought themselues in daunger, wishing nothing but safetye, assoone as perswasion of safetie tooke them, desiring further benefitts, as amendment of forepassed faultes, (which faultes notwithstanding none could tell eyther the groundes or effectes of) all agreeing in the vniuersall names of liking or misliking, but of what in especiall poyntes, infinitely disagreeing. Altogether like a falling steeple, the partes whereof, as windowes, stones, and pinnacles, were well, but the whole masse ruinous. And this was the generall case of all, wherein notwithstanding was an extreame medly of diuersified thoughts; the great men looking to make themselues strong by factions, the gentlemen some bending to them, some standing vpon themselues, some desirous to ouerthrowe those few which they thought were ouer thē, the souldiers desirous of trouble, as the nurse of spoile, and not much vnlike to them, though in another way, were all the needy sorte, the riche fearefull,
the wise carefull. This composicion of conceytes, brought foorth a daungerous tumulte, which yet woulde haue bene more daungerous, but that it had so many partes, that no body well knewe against whome chiefely to oppose themselues. For some there were that cried to haue the state altred, and gouerned no more by a Prince; marry in the alteration, many would haue the Lacedemonian
gouernment of fewe chosen Senatours; others the Athenian, where the peoples voyce helde the chiefe aucthoritye. But these were rather the discoursing sorte of men, then the actiue, being a matter more in imaginacion then practise. But they that went neerest to the present case, (as in a countrie that knewe no gouernment, without a Prince) were they that stroue, whome they should make. Whereof a great number there were, that would haue the Princesse Pamela presently to enioy it: some disdayning that she had as it were abandoned her owne Countrie, enclining more to Philoclea; and there wanted not of them, which wished Gynaecia were deliuered, and made Regent till Pamela were worthely marryed. But great multitudes there were, which hauing bene acquainted with the iust gouernment of Philanax, meant to establish him as Lieutenant of the state: and these were the most populer sorte, who iudged by the commodities they felte. But the principall men in honor and might, who had long before enuyed his greatnes with Basilius, did much more spurne against any such preferment of him. For yet before theyr enuye had some kinde of breathing out his rancour, by layeng his greatnes as a fault to the Princes iudgement, who shewde in Damaetas he might easely be deceyued in mens valewe. But nowe if the Princes choice, by so many mouthes should be confyrmed, what coulde they obiect to so rightly esteemed an excellencye? They therefore were disposed, sooner to yeeld to any thing, then to his raysing: and were content (for to crosse Philanax) to stoppe those actions, which otherwise they could not but thinke good. Philanax himselfe, as much hindred by those, that did immoderatly honour him, (which brought both more enuye, and suspicion vppon him) as by them that did manifestly resist him, (but standing onely vppon a constant desire of iustice, and a cleere conscience) went forwarde stoutly in the action of his maisters reuenge, which he thought himselfe particularly bound to. For the rest, as the ordering of the gouernment, he accompted himselfe but as one, wherein notwithstanding he would imploy all hys loyall indeauour.
But among the Noble men, hee that most openly set himselfe against him, was named Timantus, a man of middle age, but of extreame ambition, as one that had placed his vttermost good in greatnes, thinking small difference by what meanes he came by it. Of commendable wit, if he had not made it a seruaunt to vnbrideled desires. Cunning to creepe into mens fauours, which hee prized onely as they were seruiceable vnto him. He had bene brought vp in some souldiery, which he knewe how to set out, with more then deserued ostentacion. Seruile (though enuious) to his betters: and no lesse tirannycallie minded to them hee had aduauntage of. Counted reuengefull, but in deede measuring both reuenge and rewarde, as the partye might eyther helpe or hurt him. Rather shamelesse then bolde, and yet more bolde in practises, then in personall aduentures. In summe, a man that could be as euill as he listed, and listed as much, as any aduancement might thereby be gotten. As for vertue, hee counted it but a schoole name. Hee euen at the fyrst assembling together, finding
the great stroke Philanax carried among the people, thought it his readyest way of ambition, to ioyne with him: which though his pride did hardly brooke, yet the other vice carrying with it a more apparant obiect, preuayled ouer the weaker, so that with those liberall protestacions of friendship, which men that care not for their word are wont to bestowe, he offred vnto him the choice in marriage, of eyther the sisters, so he would likewise helpe him to the other, and make such a particion of the Arcadian estate. Wishing him, that since he loued his maister, because he was his maister, which shewed the loue began in himselfe, he should rather now occasion was presented, seeke his owne good substancially, then affect the smoke of a glory, by shewing an vntimely fidelitie to him, that could not reward it; and haue all the fruite he should get in mens opinions, which would be as diuers, as many; fewe agreeing to yeeld him due prayse of his true heart. But Philanax, who had limitted his thoughtes in that he esteemed good, (to which he was neyther carryed by the vayne tickling of vncertayne fame, nor from which he would be transported by enioying any thing, whereto the ignorant world geues the excellent name of goodes) with great mislike of his offer, he made him so peremtorye an answere, not without threatning, if he found him foster any such fancie, that Timantus went with an inward spite from him, whome before he had neuer loued; and measuring all mens marches by his owne pace, rather thought it some further fetch of Philanax, (as that he would haue all to himselfe alone) then was any way taken with the lou
•
ly beawtie of his vertue; whose image he had so quite defaced in his owne soule, that he had left himselfe no eyes to beholde it, but stayde wayting fitt oportunitie, to execute his desires both for himselfe, and against Philanax, which by the bringing backe of Pamela, the people being deuided into many motions, (which both with murmuring noyses, and putting themselues in seuerall troupes, they well shewed) he thought apt time was layde before him, the waters being, as the prouerbe sayth, troubled, and so the better for his fishing. Therefore going amongst the chiefest Lordes, whome he knewe principally to repine at Philanax, and making a kinde of conuocation of them, he inueighed against his proceedings, drawing euery thing to the most malicious interpretacion, that malice itselfe could instruct him to doe. He sayde, it was season for them to looke to such a weede, that else would ouergrowe them all. It was not nowe time to consult of the dead, but of the liuing: since such a slye wolfe was entred among them, that could make iustice the cloake of tirannye, and loue of his late maister the destruction of his now being children. Do you not see, sayde hee, howe farre his corruption hath stretched, that hee hath such a number of rascalls voyces, to declare him Lieutenant, readye to make him Prince, but that he instructs them, matters are not yet ripe for it? As for vs, because we are too ritch to be bought, he thinkes vs the fitter to be killed. Hath Arcadia bredd no man but Philanax? is she become a stepmother to all the rest, and hath geuen all her blessings to Philanax? Or if there be men amongst vs, let vs shewe wee disdayne to bee seruaunts to a seruaunt. Let vs make hym knowe, wee are farre worthier not to bee slaues, then hee to bee a mayster. Thinke you hee hath made such haste in these matters, to geue them ouer to another mans hande? Thincke you, he durst become the gaylor of his Princesse, but either meaning to be her maister, or her murtherer? and all this for the dere good wil forsoth he beares to the kings memory, whose authority as he abused
in his life, so he would now perseuer to abuse his name, after his death. O notable affection, for the loue of the father to kill the wife, and disenherit the children! O single minded modestie to aspire to no lesse then to the princely Diademe! No, no, he hath vired all this while, but to come the sooner to his affected ende. But let vs remember what we be, in quallitie his equalls, in number farre before him, let vs deliuer the Queene, and our naturall Princesses, and leaue them no longer vnder his authoritye; whose proceedings would rather shewe, that he himselfe, had bene the murderer of the King, then a fit Gardien of his posteritye. These wordes pearst much into the mindes, already enclined that way. Insomuch that most part of the nobilitye, confirmed Timantus speech, and were readye to execute it: when
Philanax came among them, and with a constant but reuerent behauiour, desired them they would not exercise priuate grudges, in so common a necessitye. Hee acknowledged himselfe a man, and a faultye man, to the cleering or satisfyeng of which, he would at all times submit himselfe, since his ende was to bring all things to an vpright iudgement, it should euill fitt him to flye the iudgement. But sayde he, my Lordes, let not Timantus rayling speech (who whatsoeuer he findes euill in his owne soule, can with ease lay it vppon another) make me loose your good fauour. Consider that all well doing, stands so in the middle betwixt his two contrarye euils, that it is a readye matter to cast a slaunderous shade vpon the most approued vertues. Who hath an euill toong, can call seueritie, crueltie, and faithfull dilligence, dilligent ambition. But my ende is not to excuse my selfe, nor to accuse him: for both those, hereafter will be time enough. There is neyther of vs, whose purging or punishing may so much import to Arcadia. Now I request you, for your owne honours sake, and require you by the duety you owe to this estate, that you doo presently (according to the lawes) take in hande, the chastizement of our maisters murderers, and laying order for the gouernment: by whom soeuer it be done, so it be done, and iustly done, I am satisfyed. My labour hath bene to frame things so, as you might determine: now it is in you to determine. For my part, I call the heauens to witnesse, the care of my heart stands to repaye that, wherein both I, and most of you were tyed to that Prince; with whome, all my loue of worldly action is dead.
As Philanax was speaking his last wordes, there came one running to him, with open mouth, and fearefull eyes, telling him, that there were a great number of the people, which were bent to take the young men out of Sympathus hands, and as it should seeme by their acclamacions, were like inough to proclayme them Princes. Nay, sayde Philanax (speaking alowde, and looking with a iust anger vppon the other noble men) it is nowe season to heare Timantus idle slanders, while strangers become our Lordes, and Basilius murderers sit in his throne. But who soeuer is a true Arcadian, let him followe me. With that he went towarde the place he heard of, followed by those that had euer loued him, and some of the noble men. Some other remayning with Timantus, who in the meane time was conspiring by strong hand to deliuer Gynaecia, of whome the weakest guard was had. But Philanax where he went, found them all in an vprore, which thus was fallne out. The greatest multitude of people, that were come to the death of Basilius, were the Mantineans, as being the nearest Citie to the lodges. Among these, the chiefe man both in authoritye and loue was Kalander, he that not long before had bene hoste to the two Princes, whome though he knewe not so much as
by name, yet besides the obligacion he stood bound to them in, for preseruing the liues of his sonne or nephewe, theyr noble behauiour had bred such loue in his heart towardes them, as both with teares he parted from them, when they left him (vnder promise to returne) and did keepe their iewells and apparrell as the relicks of two demy gods. Among others, he had entred the prison, and seene them, which forthwith so inuested his soule, both with sorrowe and desire to helpe them (whome he tendred as his children) that calling his neighbours the Mantineans vnto him, he tould them, all the prayses of those two young men, swearing he thought the gods had prouided for them better, then they themselues could haue imagined. He willed them to consider, that when all was done, Basilius children must enioy the state; who since they had chosen, and chosen so as all the world could not mende their choise, why should they resist Gods doing, and theyr Princesses pleasure? This was the only way to purchase quietnes without blood, where otherwise they should at one instant, crowne Pamela with a Crowne of golde, and a dishonoured title. Which whether euer she would forget, he thought it fit for them to way: such said he, heroicall greatnes shines in their eyes, such an extraordinary maiestie in all their actions, as surely either fortune by parentage, or nature in creation, hath made them Princes. And yet a state already we haue, we neede but a man, who since he is presented vnto you by the heauenly prouidence, embraced by your vndoubted Princesse, worthy for their youth of compassion, for their beawtie of admiracion, for their excellent vertue to be monarkes of the world, shall we not be content with our owne blisse? Shall we put out our eyes, because another man cannot see? or rather like some men, when too much good happens vnto them, they thinke themselues in a dreame, and haue not spirits to taste their owne goods? No no my friends, beleeue me, I am so vnpartiall, that I knowe not their names, but so ouercome with their vertue, that I shall then thinke, the destenyes haue ordayned a perpetuall florishing to Arcadia, when they shall allot such a gouernor vnto it. This spoken by a man graue in yeares, great in authoritie, neere allyed to the Prince, and knowen honest, preuayled so with all the Mantineans, that with one voyce they ranne to deliuer the two Princes. But Philanax came in time to withstand them, both sides yet standing in armes, and rather wanting a beginning, then mindes to enter into a bloudy conflict. Which Philanax foreseeing, thought best to remoue the prisoners secretly, and if neede were, rather without forme of iustice to kill them, then against iustice (as hee thought) to haue them vsurpe the state. But there agayne arose a new trouble. For Sympathus (the noble man that kept them) was so stricken in compassion, with their excellent presence, that as he would not falsifye his promise to Philanax, to geue them libertye, so yet would he not yeeld them to himselfe, fearing he would do them violence. Thus tumult vppon tumult arising, the Sunne I thinke aweary to see theyr discords, had alreadye gone downe to his Westerne lodging. But yet to knowe what the poore Shepherds did, who were the fyrst descryers of these matters, will not to some eares perchance be a tedious digression.
Heere endes the fourth booke or acte.
The fourth Eglogues.
THE Shepheards finding no place for them in these garboyles, to which their quiet hearts (whose highest ambition was in keeping themselues vp in goodnes) had at all no aptnes, retired themselues from among the clamorous multitude: and as sorowe desires company, went vp together to the Westerne side of a hill, whose prospect extended it so farre, as they might well discerne many of Arcadias beawtyes. And there looking vpon the Sunnes as then declining race, the poore men sate pensiue of their present miseries, as if they founde a wearines of theyr wofull wordes: till at last good olde Geron (who as he had longest tasted the benefites of Basilius gouernment, so seemed to haue a speciall feeling of the present losse) wiping his eyes and long white bearde bedeawed with greate dropps of teares, began in this sorte to complayne. Alas poore sheepe, sayde hee, which hitherto haue enioyed your fruitefull pasture, in such quietnes, as your wooll amongst other things hath made this Countrie famous, your best dayes are now past: now you must become the vittaile of an armye, and perchaunce an armye of foraine enemyes: you are now not onely to feare home Wolues, but alien Lions; now, I say now, that our right Basilius is deceased. Alas sweete pastures! Shall souldiours that knowe not how to vse you, possesse you? Shall they that can not speake Arcadian language be Lordes ouer your Shepheards? For alas with good cause may we looke for any euill, since Basilius our only strength is taken from vs. To that all the other Shepheards present vttered pittifull voyces, especially the very borne Arcadians. For as for the other, though humanitie moued them to pittie humane cases, especially in a Prince, vnder whome they had founde a refuge of their miseries, and iustice equally administred: yet could they not so naturally feele the liuely touch of sorrowe. Neuerthelesse, of that number one Agelastus, notably noted among them, aswell for his skill in Poetry, as for an austerely mayntayned sorrowfulnes, wherewith hee seemed to despise the workes of nature, framing an vniuersall complaint in that vniuersall mischiefe, vttered it in this sestine.
SInce wayling is a bud of causefull sorowe,
Since sorow is the follower of euill fortune,
Since no euill fortune equalls publique damage:
Now Princes losse hath made our damage publique,
Sorow, pay we to thee the rights of Nature,
And inward griefe seale vp with outward wailing.
Why should we spare our voice from endlesse wailing,
Who iustly make our hearts the seate of sorow?
In such a case where it appeares that nature
Doth add her force vnto the sting of fortune:
Choosing alas! this our theatre publique,
Where they wo
•
ld leaue trophees of cruell damage,
Then since such pow'rs conspir'd vnto our damage
(Which may be know'n, but neuer help't with wailing
Yet let vs leaue a monument in publique
Of willing teares, torne haires, & cries of sorrow.
For lost, lost is by blowe of cruell fortune
Arcadias gemme the noblest childe of nature,
O nature doting olde, ô blinded nature,
How hast thou torne thy selfe! sought thine owne damage!
In graunting such a scope to filthy fortune,
By thy impes losse to fill the world with wai'ling
Cast thy stepmother eyes vpon our sorowe,
Publique our losse: so, see, thy shame is publique.
O that we had, to make our woes more publique,
Seas in our eyes, & brasen tongues by nature,
A yelling voice, & heartes compos'd of sorow,
Breath made of flames, wits knowing nought but damage,
Our sports murdering our selues, our musiques wailing,
Our studies fixt vpon the fal
•
es of fortune.
No, no, our mischiefe growes in this vile fortune,
That priuate paines can not breath out in publique
The furious inward griefes with hellish wailing:
But forced are to burthen feeble nature
With secret sense of our eternall damage,
And sorow feede, feeding our soules with sorow.
Since sorow then concludeth all our fortune
With all our deathes shew we this damage publique.
His nature feares to die who liues still wailing.
It seemed that this complaint of Agelastus had awaked the spirits of the Arcadians, astonished before with exceedingnes of sorow. For hee had scarcely ended, when diuerse of them offred to follow his example, in be wayling the generall losse of that countrie which had bene aswell a nurse to straungers, as a mother to Arcadians. Among the rest one accounted good in that kinde, and made the better by the true feeling of sorowe, roared out a song of lamentation, which (as well as might bee) was gathered vp in this forme:
SInce that to death is gone the shepheard hie,
Who most the silly shepheards pipe did pryse,
Your dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.
And you ô trees (if any life there lies
In trees) now through your porous barkes receaue
The straunge resounde of these my causefull cries:
And let my breath vpon your braunches cleaue,
My breath distinguish'd into wordes of woe,
That so I may signes of my sorrowe leaue.
But if among your selues some one tree growe,
That aptest is to figure miserie,
Let it embassage beare your grieues to showe.
The weeping Mirrhe I thinke will not denie
Her helpe to this, this iustest cause of plaint.
Your dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie.
And thou poore Earth, whom fortune doth attaint
In Natures name to suffer such a harme,
As for to loose thy gemme, and such a Sainct,
Vpon thy face let coaly Rauens swarme:
Let all the Sea thy teares accounted be:
Thy bowels with all killing mettals arme.
Let golde now r
•
st, let Diamonds waste in thee:
Let pearls be wan with woe their damme doth beare:
Thy selfe henceforth the light doo neuer see.
And you, ô flowers, which sometimes Princes were,
Till these straunge altrings you did hap to trie,
Of Princes losse your selues for tokens reare,
Lilly in mourning blacke thy whitenes die:
O Hyacinthe let Ai be on thee still.
Your dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie.
O Echo, all these woods with roaring fill,
And doo not onely marke the accents last,
But all, for all reach out my wailefull will:
One Echo to another Echo cast
Sounde of my griefes, and let it neuer ende,
Till that it hath all woods and waters past.
Nay to the heau'ns your iust complaining sende,
And stay the starrs inconstant constant race,
Till that they doo vnto our dolours bende:
And aske the reason of that speciall grace,
That they, which haue no liues, should liue so long,
And vertuous soules so soone should loose their pla
•
e?
Aske, if in great men good men doo so thronge,
That he for want of elbowe roome must die?
Or if that they be skante, if this be wronge?
D
••
Wisedome this our wretched time espie
In one true chest to rob all Vertues treasure?
Your dolefull tunes sweete Muses now applie.
And if that any counsell you to measure
Your dolefull tunes, to them still playning say,
To well felte griefe, plainte is the onely pleasure.
O light of Sunne, which is entit'led day,
O well thou doost that thou no longer bidest;
For mourning light her blackeweedes may display.
O Phoebus with good cause thy face thou hidest,
Rather then haue thy all-beholding eye
Fould with this sight, while thou thy chariot guidest,
And well (me thinks) becomes this vaultie skie
And stately tombe to couer him deceased.
Your dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie.
O Philomela with thy brest oppressed
By shame and griefe, helpe, helpe me to lament
Such cursed harmes as cannot be redressed.
Or if thy mourning notes be fully spent,
Then giue a quiet eare vnto my playning:
For I to teach the world complainte am bent.
You dimmy clowdes, which well employ your stayning
This cheerefull aire with your obscured cheere,
Witnesse your wofull teares with dayly rayning.
And if, ô Sinne, thou euer didst appeare,
In shape, which by mans eye might be perceaued;
Vertue is dead, now set the triumph here.
Now set thy triumph in this world, bereaued
Of what was good, where now no good doth lie;
And by the pompe our losse will be conceaued.
O notes of mine your selues together tie:
With too much griefe me thinkes you are dissolued.
Your dolefull tunes sweet Muses now applie,
Time euer old, and yong is still reuolued
Within it selfe, and neuer tasteth ende:
But mankind is for aye to nought resolued.
The filthy snake her aged coate can mende,
And getting youth againe, in youth doth flourish:
But vnto Man, age euer death doth sende.
The very trees with grafting we can cherish,
So that we can long time produce their time:
But Man which helpeth them, helplesse must perish.
Thus, thus the mindes, which ouer all doo clime,
When they by yeares experience get best graces,
Must finish then by deaths detested crime.
We last short while, and build long lasting places:
Ah let vs all against foule Nature crie:
We Natures workes doo helpe, she vs defaces.
For how can Nature vnto this reply?
That she her child, I say, her best child killeth?
Your dolefull tunes sweete Muses now apply.
Alas, me thinkes, my weakned voice but spilleth,
The vehement course of this iust lamentation:
Me thinkes, my sound no place with sorrow filleth.
I know not I, but once in detestation
I haue my
•
elfe, and all what life containeth,
Since Death on Vertues fort hath made inuasion.
One word of woe another after traineth:
Ne doo I care how r
•
de be my inuention,
So it be seene what sorrow in me raigneth.
O Elements, by whose (men say) contention,
Our bodies be in liuing power maintained,
Was this mans death the fruite of your dissention?
O Phisickes power, which (some say) hath restrained
Approch of death, alas thou helpest meagerly,
When once one is for Atropos distrained.
Great be Physitions brags, but aid is beggerly,
When rooted moisture failes, or groweth drie,
They leaue off all, and say, death commes too eagerlie.
They are but words therefore that men do buy
Of any, since God AEsculapius ceased.
Your dolefull tunes sweete Muses now apply.
Iustice, iustice is now (alas) oppressed:
Bountifulnes hath made his last conclusion:
Goodnes for best attire in dust is dressed.
Shepheards bewaile your vttermost confusion;
And see by this picture to you presented,
Death is our home, life is but a delusion.
For see alas, who is from you absented?
Absented? nay I say for euer banished
From such as were to dye for him contented?
Out of our sight in turne of hand is vanished
Shepherd of shepherds, whose well setled order
Priuate with welth, publike with quiet garnished.
While he did liue, farre, farre was all disorder;
Example more preuailing then direction,
Far was homestrife, and far was foe from border.
His life a law, his looke a full correction:
As in his health we healthfull were preserued,
So in his sicknesse grew our sure infection.
His death our death. But ah; my Muse hath swarued,
From such deepe plaint as should such woes descrie,
Which he of vs for euer hath deserued.
The stile of heauie hart can neuer flie
So high, as should make such a paine notorious:
Cease Muse therfore: thy dart ô Death applie;
And farewell Prince, whom goodnesse hath made glorious.
Many were readie to haue followed this course, but the day was so wasted, that onely this riming Sestine deliuered by one of great account among them, could obtaine fauour to be heard.
FArewell ô Sunn, Arcadias cl
•
arest light:
Farewell ô pearl, the poore man plenteous treasure:
Farewell ô golden staffe, the weake mans might:
Farewell ô Ioy, the ioyfulls onely pleasure.
Wisdome farewell, the skillesse mans direction:
Farewell with thee, farewell all our affection.
For what place now is lefte for our affection,
Now that of purest lampe is quench'd the light,
Which to our darkned mindes was best direction?
Now that the mine is lost of all our treasure?
Now death hath swallow'd vp our worldly pleasure,
We Orphans made, void of all publique might?
Orphans in deede, depriu'd of fathers might:
For he our father was in all affection,
In our well-doing placing all his pleasure,
Still studying how to vs to be a ligh
As well he was in peace a safest treasure:
In warr his wit & word was our direction.
Whence, whence alas, shall we seeke our direction!
When that we feare our hatefull neighbours might,
Who long haue gap't to get Arcadians treasure.
Shall we now finde a guide of such affection,
Who for our sakes will thinke all trauaile light,
And make his paine to keepe vs safe his pleasure?
No, no, for euer gone is all our pleasure;
For euer wandring from all good direction;
For euer blinded of our clearest light;
For euer lamed of our sured might;
For euer banish'd from well plac'd affection;
For euer robd of all our royall treasure.
Let teares for him therefore be all our treasure,
And in our wailfull naming him our pleasure:
Let hating of our selues be our affection,
And vnto death bend still our thoughts direction.
Let vs against our selues employ our might,
And putting out our eyes seeke we our light.
Farewell our light, farewell our spoiled treasure:
Farewell our might, farewell our daunted pleasure:
Farewell direction, farewell all affection.
The night beganne to cast her darke Canopie ouer them, and they euen wearie with their woes bended homewardes: hoping by sleepe forgetting them selues, to ease their present dolours. When they were mett with a troupe of twentie horse, the chiefe of which asking them for the Kinge, and vnderstanding the hard newes, thereupon stayed among them expecting the returne of a messenger whome with speede he dispatched to Philanax.
The ende of the fourth Booke.
THE FIFTH BOOKE OF THE COVNTESSE OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.
THE daungerous diuision of mens mindes, the ruinous renting of all estates, had nowe brought Arcadia to feele the pangs of vttermost perill (such convulsions neuer comming, but that the life of that gouernment drawes neere his necessarye periode) when to the honest and wife Philanax,
equally distracted betwixt desire of his maisters reuenge and care of the states establishment, there came (vnlooked for) a Macedonian Gentleman, who in short, but pithye maner deliuered vnto him, that the renowmed Euarchus, King of Macedon, purposing to haue visited his olde friend and confederate the King Basilius,
was nowe come within halfe a mile of the Lodges, where hauing vnderstoode be certayne Shepheards, the sodayne death of theyr Prince, had sent vnto him, (of whose authoritye and faith he had good knowledge) desiring him to aduertise him, in what securitie hee might rest there for that night, where willinglye hee woulde (if safely hee might) helpe to celebrate the funeralls of his auncient companion and alye, adding hee neede not doubt, since hee had brought but twentye in his companye, hee woulde be so vnwise as to enter into any forcible attempte with so small force. Phil
•
nax hauing entertayned the Gentleman, aswell as in the middest of so many tumultes hee coulde, pausing awhile with himselfe, considering howe it shoulde not onely be vniust, and against the lawe of Nations, not well to receyue a Prince whome good will had brought among them, but (in respecte of the greatnes of his might) very daungerous to geue him any cause of due offence; remembring withall the excellent tryalls of his equitie, which made him more famous then his victoryes, hee thought hee might bee the fittest instrumente to redresse the ruynes they were in, since his goodnes put hym without suspicion, and hys greatnesse beyonde enuye. Yet weighing with himselfe howe harde many heads were to be brideled, and that in this monstrous confusion such mischiefe mighte
be attempted, of which late repentance should after be but a simple remedie: he iudged best first to knowe how the peoples mindes would sway to this determinacion. Therefore desiring the Gentleman to returne to the King his maister, and to beseech him (though with his paynes) to stay for an houre or two, where he was, till he had set things in better order to receiue him: he himselfe went fyrst to the Noble men, then to Kalander and the principall Mantineans, who were most opposite vnto him; desiring them, that as the night had most blessedly stayed them from entring into ciuill bloud, so they would be content in the night to assemble the people together, to heare some newes, which he was to deliuer vnto them. There is nothing more desirous of nouelties, then a man that feares his present fortune. Therefore they, whome mutuall diffidence made doubtfull of their vtter destruction, were quickly perswaded to heare of any newe matter, which might alter at least, if not helpe the nature of their feare. Namely the chiefest men, who as they had most to lose, so were most iealous of their owne case, and were alreadye growne as wearye to be followers of Timantus ambition, as before they were enuyers of Philanax worthinesse. As for Kalander and Sympathus, as in the one a vertuous friendship had made him seeke to aduaunce, in the other a naturall commiseration had made him willing to protect the excellent (though vnfortunate) prisoners, so were they not against this conuocation. For hauing nothing but iust desires in them, they did not mistrust the iustifyeng of them. Only Timantus laboured to haue withdrawne them from this assemblye, sayeng, it was time to stop their eares from the ambitious charmes of Philanax. Let them fyrst deliuer Gynaecia, and her daughters, which were fit persons to heare, and then they might begin to speake. That this was but Philanax comming, to li
•
ke broyle vpon broyle, because he might auoyd the answering of his trespasses, which as he had long intended, so had he prepared coullored speeches to disguise them. But as his words expressed rather a violence of rancour, then any iust ground of accusation, so pierced they no further, then to some partiall eares, the multitude yeelding good attention to what Philanax would propose vnto them: Who, like a man whose best building was a well-framed conscience, neyther with plausible words, nor fawning countenance, but euen with the graue behauiour of a wise father, whome nothing but loue makes to chide, thus sayd vnto them. I haue, said he, a great matter to deliuer vnto you, and thereout am I to make a greater demaund of you: But truly such hath this late proceeding bene of yours, that I knowe not what is not to be demaunded of you. Me thinkes I may haue reason to require of you, as men are woont among Pirates, that the life of him that neuer hurt you, may be safe. Me thinkes I am not without apparence of cause, as if you were Cyclopes or Cannibals, to desire that our Princes body, which hath thirtie yeares maintained vs in a flourishing peace, be not torne in pieces, or deuoured among you, but may be suffred to yeeld it selfe, which neuer was defiled with any of your blouds, to the naturall rest of the earth. Me thinkes, not as to Arcadians, renowmed for your faith to Prince, and loue of Country, but as to sworne enemyes of this sweete soyle, I am to desire you, that at least, if you will haue straungers to your Princes, yet you will not deliuer the seignory of this goodly Kingdome to your noble Kings murtherers. Lastly, I haue reason, as if I had to speake to mad men, to desire you to be good to your selues: For before God, what either barbarous violence, or vnnaturall follie, hath not
this day had his seate in your mindes, and left his footsteps in your actions? But in troth I loue you too well, to stand long displayeng your faults: I would you your selues did forget them, so you did not fall againe into them. For my part, I had much rather be an orator of your prayses. But now (if you will suffer attentiue iudgement, and not foreiudging passion, to be the waigher of my wordes) I will deliuer vnto you what a blessed meane the Gods haue sent vnto you, if you list to embrace it. I thinke there is none among you so young, either in yeares, or vnderstanding, but hath heard the true fame of that iust Prince Euarchus King of Macedon. A Prince with whom our late maister did euer holde most perfit alliance. He, euen he, is this day come, hauing but twenty horse with him, within two miles of this place, hoping to haue found the vertuous Basilius aliue, but now willing to do honor to his death. Surely, surely the heauenly powers haue in so full a time bestowed him on vs, to vnite our diuisions. For my part therefore I wish, that since among our selues we can not agree in so manifold partialities, we do put the ordering of all these things into his hands, aswell touching the obsequies of the King, the punishment of his death, as the mariage and crowning of our Princesse. He is both by experience and wisedome taught how to direct: his greatnesse such, as no man can disdaine to obey him: his equitie such, as no man neede to feare him. Lastly, as he hath all these qualities to helpe, so hath he (though he would) no force to hurt. If therfore you so thinke good, since our lawes beare that our Princes murther be chastized before his murthered bodie be buried, we may inuite him to sit to morowe in the iudgement seate; which done, you may after proceede to the buriall. When Philanax first named Euarchus landing, there was a muttring murmur among the people, as though in that euil ordered weaknes of theirs he had come to conquer their country. But when they vnderstood he had so small a retinue, whispring one with another, and looking who should begin to confirme Philanax proposition, at length Sympathus was the first that allowed it, then the rest of the Noblemen, neither did Kalander striue, hoping so excellent a Prince could not but deale graciously with two such young men, whose authoritie ioyned to Philanax, all the popular sort followed. Timantus still blinded with his owne ambitious haste (not remembring factions are no longer to be trusted, then the factious may be perswaded it is for their owne good) would needes striue against the streame, exclaiming against Philanax, that now he shewed who it was, that would betray his country to straungers. But well he found, that who is too busie in the foundation of an house, may pull the building about his eares. For the people alreadie tyred with their owne diuisions, (of which his clampring had bene a principall nurse) and beginning now to espye a hauen of rest, hated any thing that should hinder them frō it: asked one another whether this were not he, whose euill toong no man could escape? whether it were not Timantus that made the first mutinous oration, to strengthen the troubles? whether Timantus, without their consent, had not gone about to deliuer Gynaecia? And thus enflaming one another against him, they threwe him out of the assembly, and after pursued him with stones and staues, so that with losse of one of his eyes, sore wounded & beaten, he was faine to flye to Philanax feete, for succour of his life: geuing a true lesson, that vice it selfe is forced to seeke the sanctuarie of vertue. For Philanax who hated his euill, but not his person, and knewe that a iust punishment might by the maner be vniustly done; remembring withall, that al
•
hough herein the peoples rage might haue hit rightly,
yet if it were nourished in this, no man knewe to what extremities it might extend it selfe: with earnest dealing, and employeng the vttermost of his authority, he did protect the trembling Timantus. And then hauing taken a generall oth, that they should in the noneage of the Princesse, or till these things were settled, yeeld full obedience to Euarchus, so farre as were not preiudiciall to the lawes, customes, and liberties of Arcadia: and hauing taken a particular bonde of Sympathus (vnder whome he had a seruaunt of his owne) that the prisoners should be kept close, without conference with any man: he himselfe honorablie accompanyed, with a great number of torches went to the king Euarchus, whose comming in this sort into Arcadia had thus falne out.
The wofull Prince Plangus receyuing of Basilius no other succours but only certayne to conduct him to Euarchus, made all possible speede towards Byzantium, where he vnderstood the King, hauing concluded all his warres with the winning of that towne, had now for some good space made his abode. But being farre gone on his way, he receyued certayne intelligence, that Euarchus was not only some dayes before returned into Macedon, but since was gone with some haste to visit that coast of his country that lay towards Italy. The occasion geuen by the Latines, who hauing already gotten into their hands, partly by conquest, and partly by confederacie, the greatest part of Italie, and long gaped to deuoure Greece also (obseruing the present oportunitie of Euarchus absence, and Basilius solitarines, which two Princes they knewe to be in effect the whole strength of Greece) were euen readye to lay an vniust gripe vpon it, which after they might beawtifie with the noble name of conquest. Which purpose though they made not knowne by any solemne denouncing of warre, but contrarywise gaue many tokens of continuing still their former amitie: yet the stayeng of his subiects shippes, traffiquing as Merchants into those partes, together with the dayly preparation of shipping, and other warlike prouisions in Portes, most conuenient for the transporting of souldyers, occasioned Euarchus (not vnacquainted with such practizes) first to suspect, then to discerne, lastly, to seeke to preuent the intended mischiefe. Yet thinking warre neuer to be accepted, vntill it be offred by the hand of necessitie, he determined so long openly to hold them his friends, as open hostilitie bewraied them not his enemies; not ceasing in the meane time by letters & messages to moue the States of Greece by vniting their strength, to make timely prouision against this perill: by many reasons making them see, that, though in respect of place some of thē might seeme further remoued from the first violence of the storme, yet being imbarqued in the same ship, the finall wrack must needs be common to them all. And knowing the mighty force of example, with the weake effect of faire discourses not waited on with agreeable actions, what he perswaded them, himselfe performed, leauing in his owne realme nothing either vndone or vnprouided, which might be thought necessary for withstanding an inuasion. His first care was to put his people in a readinesse for warre, and by his experienced souldiers to traine the vnskilfull to martiall exercises. For the better effecting whereof, as also for meeting with other inconueniences in such doubtful times incident to the most setled states, making of the diuers regions of his whole kingdome so many diuisions as he thought conuenient, he appointed the charge of them to the greatest, and of greatest trust he had about him: arming them with sufficient authoritie to leauie forces within their seuerall gouernments, both for resisting the inuading enemy, and punishing the disordered
subiect. Hauing thus prepared the body, and assured the heart of his countrey against any mischiefe that might attaint it, he then tooke into his carefull consideration the externall parts, geuing order both for the repairing and encreasing his nauy, and for the fortifying of such places, especially on the sea coast, as either commoditie of landing, weakenes of the countrey, or any other respect of aduantage was likelyest to drawe the enemy vnto. But being none of them who thinke all things done, for which they haue once geuē direction, he folowed euery where his cōmandement with his presence: which witnes of euery mans slacknes or diligēce, chastizing the one, & encouraging the other, suffred not the frute of any profitable counsaile for want of timely taking to be lost. And thus making one place succede another in the progresse of wisedome & vertue, he was now come to Aulon a principall porte of his realme, whē the poore Plangus extremely wearied with his long iourney (desire of succouring Erona no more relieuing, then feare of not succouring her in time aggrauating his trauaile) by a lamētable narratiō of his childrēs death, called home his cares frō encoūtring foraine enemies, to suppresse the insurrection of inward passions. The matter so hainous, the maner so villanous, the losse of such persons, in so vnripe yeares, in a time so daungerous to the whole state of Greece, how vehemētly it moued to griefe & compassiō others, only not blind to the light of vertue, nor deafe to the voice of their country, might perchance by a more cunning workman in liuely cullors be deliuered. But the face of Euarchus sorow, to the one in nature, to both in affection, a father, and iudging the world so much the more vnworthely depriued of those excellēcies, as himselfe was better iudge of so excellēt worthines, cā no otherwise be shadowed out by the skilfullest pencel, thē by couering it ouer with the vaile of silēce. And in deed that way himself took, with so pacient a quietnes receiuing this pitifull relation, that all words of weakenes suppressed, magnanimity seemed to triumph ouer misery. Only receiuing of Plangus perfit instruction of all things cōcerning Plexirtus & Artaxia, with promise not only to aid him in deliuering Erona, but also with vehemēt protestation, neuer to returne into Macedon, til he had pursued the murtherers to death: he dispatched with speed a ship for Byzantium, cōmanding the gouernor to prouide all necessaries for the war against his owne comming, which he purposed should be very shortly. In this ship Plangus would needs go, impacient of stay, for that in many days before he had vnderstood nothing of his Ladies estate. Soone after whose departure, newes was brought to Euarchus, that all the ships detained in Italy were returned. For the Latines
finding by Euarchus procedings their intent to be frustrate (as before by his sodaine returne they doubted it was discouered) deeming it no wisdom to shew the will, not hauing the abilitie to hurt, had not only in free & frendly maner dismissed them, but for the time wholy omitted their enterprise, attending the oportunitie of fitter occasion. By meanes wherof Euarchus, rid frō the cumber of that war (likely otherwise to haue staied him longer) with so great a fleete as haste would suffer him to assemble, forthwith imbarqued for Byzantium. And now followed with fresh windes he had in short time runne a long course, when on a night encountred with an extreme tempest, his shippes were so scattered, that scarcely any two were lefte together. As for the Kings owne shippe, depriued of all company, sore brused, and weather-beatē, able no lōger to brooke the seas churlish entertainmēt, a litle before day it recouered the shore. The first light made thē see it was the vnhappy coast of Laconia: for no other country could haue shown the like euidēce of vnnatural war.
Which hauing long endured betwene the nobilitie and the Helotes, and once compounded by Pyrocles, vnder the name of Daiphantus, imediately vpon his departure had broken out more violently then euer before. For the King taking the oportunitie of their captaines absence, refused to performe the condicions of peace, as extorted from him by rebellious violence. Whereupon they were againe deepely entred into warre, with so notable an hatred towardes the very name of a King, that Euarchus (though a straunger vnto them) thought it not safe there to leaue his person, where neither his owne force could be a defence, nor the sacred name of Maiestie, a protection. Therefore calling to him an Arcadian (one that comming with Pl
•
ngus had remained with Euarchus, desirous to see the warres) hee demaunded of him for the next place of suretie, where hee might make his staye, vntill hee might heare somewhat of his fleete, or cause his ship to bee repaired. The gentleman glad to haue this occasion of doing seruice to Euarchus, and honour to Basilius (to w
•
om he knew hee shoulde bring a most welcome gueste) tolde him, that if it pleased him to commit himselfe to Arcadia, (a parte whereof laie open to their vewe) he woulde vndertake ere the next night were farre spent to guide him safely to his master Basilius. The present necessitie much preuailed with Euarchus, yet more a certaine vertuous desire to trie, whether by his authoritie he might withdrawe Basilius from burying himselfe aliue, and to imploy the rest of his olde yeares in doing good, the onely happie action of mans life. For besides the vniuersall case of Greece depriued by this meanes of a principall piller, he weighed and pitied the pittyfull state of the Arcadian people, who were in worse case then if death had taken away their Prince. For so yet their necessitie would haue placed some one to the helme: now, a Prince being, and not doing like a Prince, keeping and not exercising the place, they were in so much more euill case, as they coulde not prouide for their euill. These rightly wise & vertuous cōsideratiōs especially moued Euarchus to take his iourny towards the desert, where arriuing within night, and vnderstanding to his great griefe the newes of the Princes death, hee wayted for his safe conduct from Philanax: in the meane time taking his rest vnder a tree, with no more affected pompes, then as a man that knew, how soeuer he was exalted, the beginning and end of his body was earth. But Philanax as soone as he was in sight of him, lighting from his horse, presented himselfe vnto him in all those humble behauiours, which not only the great reuerence of the partie but the conceit of ones owne miserie, is woont to frame. Euarchus rase vp vnto him with so gratious a coūtenaunce, as the goodnes of his mind had long exercised him vnto: carefull so much more to descend in all curtesies, as he sawe him beare a lowe representation of his afflicted state. But to Philanax, assoone as by neere looking on him, he might perfectly behold him, the grauitie of his countenaunce, and yeares, not much vnlike to his late deceassed, but euer beloued master brought his forme so liuely vnto his memorie, and reuiued so all the thoughtes of his wonted ioyes within him, that in steede of speaking to Euarchus, hee stoode a while like a man gone a farre iorney from himselfe, calling as it were with his minde an account of his losses: imagining that this paine needed not, if nature had not ben violently stopped of her owne course: and casting more louing then wise conceites, what a world this woulde haue bene, if this sodaine accident had not interrupted it. And so farre strayed hee, into this rauing melancholy, that his eyes nimbler then his tounge let fall a floud of teares, his voice being stopped with extremitie of sobbing, so much had his friendshippe caried him to Basilius, that hee thought no age
was timely for his death. But at length taking the occasion of his owne weeping, he thus did speake to Euarchus. Let not my teares most worthely renowmed Prince make my presence vnpleasant, or my speach vnmarked of you. For the iustnes of the cause, takes away the blame of any weakenes in me; and the affinitie that the same beareth to your greatnes, seemes euen lawfully to clayme pitty in you: A Prince of a Princes fall, a louer of iustice, of a most vniust violence. And geue me leaue excellent Euarchus to say, I am but the representer of all the late florishing Arcadia, which now with mine eyes doth weepe, with my toong doth complaine, with my knees doth lay it selfe at your feete, which neuer haue bene vnreadie to carie you, to the vertuous protecting of innocents. Imagine, vouchsafe to imagine most wise and good King, that heere is before your eyes, the pittifull spectacle of a most dolorously ending tragedie: wherein I do but play the part, of all the newe miserable prouince, which being spoiled of their guide, doth lye like a ship without a Pilot, tumbling vp and downe in the vncertaine waues, till it either runne it selfe vpon the rockes of selfe-diuision, or be ouerthrowne by the stormie winde of forreine force. Arcadia finding her selfe in these desolate tearmes, doth speake, and I speake for her, to thee not vainly puissant Prince, that since now she is not only robbed of the naturall support of her Lord, but so sodainly robbed, that she hath not breathing time to stande for her safetie: so vnfortunately, that it doth appall their mindes, though they had leisure: and so mischeuously, that it doth exceede both the sodainnes and infortunatenes of it: thou wilt lend thine arme vnto her, and as a man, take compassion of mankinde, as a vertuous man chastice most abhominable vice, and as a Prince protect a people, which all haue with one voyce called for thy goodnes: thinking that as thou art only able, so thou art fullie able, to redresse their imminent ruines. They do therefore with as much confidence as necessitie, flie vnto you for succour, they lay themselues open to you: to you, I meane your selfe, such as you haue euer bene: that is to say one, that hath alwayes had his determinaciōs bounded with equitie. They only reserue the right to Basilius blood; the maner to the auncient prescribing of their lawes. For the rest without exception, they yeld ouer vnto you, as to the elected protectour of this kingdome, which name and office they beseech you till you haue layde a sufficient foundacion of tranquilitie, to take vpon you the particularitie both of their statutes and demands, you shal presently after vnderstand. Now only I am to say vnto you, that this countrie falls to be a faire field, to prooue whether the goodlie tree of your vertue, will liue in all soiles. Heere I say will be seene, whether either feare can make you short, or the likorousnes of dominion make you beyond iustice. And I can for conclusion say no more but this, you must thinke vpon my words and your answere, depend not only the quiet, but the liues of so many thousands, which for their auncient confederacie in this extreame necessity, desire neither the expence of your treasure, nor hazard of your subiects, but only the benefit of your wisedome, whose both glory and encrease stands in the exercising of it. The summe of this request was vtterly vnlooked for of Euarchus, which made him the more diligent in marking his speach, and after his speach take the greater pause for a perfect resolucion. For as of the one side, he thought nature required nothing more of him then that he should be a helpe, to them of like creation, and had his heart no whit commanded with feare, thinking his life well passed, hauing satisfyed the tyrannie of time which the course of many yeares, the expectation of the world with more then expected
honour, lastly the tribute due to his own mind with the daily offring of most vertuous actions: so of the other hee wayed the iust reproach that followed those, who easely enter into other folkes busines, with the opinion might be conceaued, loue of seignorie rather then of iustice, had made him embarke himselfe, into a matter nothing pertaining to him, especially in a time when ernest occasion of his owne busines so greatly required his presence: But in the ende wisedome being an assentiall and not an opinionate thing, made him rather to bend to what was in it selfe good, then what by euill mindes might bee iudged not good. And therein did see, that though that people did not belong vnto him, yet doing good which is not enclosed within any tearmes of people did belong vnto him, and if necessitie forced him for some time to abide in Arcadia, the necessitie of Arcadia might iustly demaund some fruite of abiding. To this secreat assurance of his owne worthines (which although it bee neuer so well cloathed in modestie, yet alwaies liues in the worthyest mindes) did much push him forward saying vnto himselfe, the treasure of those inward guifts he had, were bestowed by the heauens vpon him, to be beneficiall and not idle. On which determination resting and yet willing before hee waded any further, to examine well the depth of the others proffer, hee thus with that well appeased gesture, vnpassionate nature bestoweth vpon mankind, made answere to Philanax most vrgent peticion. Although long experience hath made me knowe, all men (& so Princes which be but men) to be subiect to infinite casualties, the verie constitution of our liues remaining in continuall change: yet the affaires of this countrie, or at least my meeting so iumply with them, mak
•
s mee a bashed with the strangenes of it. With much paine I am come hither to see my long approued friend and now I finde if I will see him, I must see him dead: after, for mine owne securitie, I seeke to be waranted mine owne life: And their sodainely am I appointed to be a iudge of other mens liues, though a friend to him, yet am I a stranger to the countrie, and now of a stranger you would sodainely make a director. I might obiect to your desire my weakenes, which age perhaps hath wrought in mind and body: and iustly I may pretend the necessitie of mine owne affaires, which as I am by all true rules most neerely tyed so can they not long beare the delaye of my absence. But though I woulde and coulde dispence with these difficulties, what assurance can I haue of the peoples will? Which hauing so many circles of imaginations can hardly be enclosed in one pointe. Who knowes a people, that knowes not sodaine opinion makes them hope, which hope if it be not answered, they fall in hate? Choosing and refusing, erecting, and ouerthrowing, according as the presentnes of any fancie caries them. Euen this their hastie drawing to me, makes me thinke they wilbe as hastiely withdrawen form me, for it is but one ground of inconstancie, soone to take or soone to leaue. It may be they haue hard of Euarchus more thē cause: their own eies wilbe perhaps more curious iudges, out of hearesay they may haue builded many conceites, which I can not perchaunce wil not performe, then wil vndeserued repentance be a greater shame and iniurie vnto me, then their vndeserued proffer, is honour. And to conclude I must be fully enformed, how the pacient is minded, before I can promise to vndertake the cure. Philanax was not of the moderne mindes, who make suiters magistrates: but did euer thinke the vnwilling worthy man, was fitter then the vndeseruing desirer. Therefore the more Euarchus drewe backe, the more hee founde in him that the cunningest pilot, doth most dread the rockes, the more earnestly hee pursued his publique request vnto him. Hee desired him
not to make anye weake excuses of his weakenesse, since so manye examples had well proued his minde, was stronge to ouerpasse the greatest troubles, and his body strong enough to obey his minde; and that so long as they were ioyned together, he knew Euarchus would thinke it no wearisome exercise, to make them vessells of vertuous actions. The dutie to his countrie, he acknowledged, which as hee had so setled, as it was not to feare any soddaine alteration, so since it did want him, as well it might endure a fruictfull as an idle absence. As for the doubt he conceaued of the peoples constancie in this their election, hee saide it was such a doubt as al humane actions are subiect vnto: yet as much as in politique matters, which receaue not geometricall certainties, a man may assure himselfe there was euident likelyhoode to bee conceaued, of the continuance, both in their vnanimitie, and his worthynes: wherof the on was apt to be held, & the other to hold, ioyned to the present necessitie, the firmest band of mortall mindes. In sum hee alledged, so many reasons to Eu
•
rchus his minde, (alredy enclined to enter into any vertuous action) that he yeelded to take vpon him selfe the iudgement of the present cause, so as hee might finde in deede that such was the peoples desire out of iudgement and not faction. Therefore mounting on their horses they hasted to the lodges, where they found though late in the night, the people wakefully watching, for the issue of Philanax embassage. No man thinking the matter would be well done, without he had his voice in it, and each deeming his owne eyes the best gardiens of his throte in that vnaccustomed tumult. But when they saw Philanax returne, hauing on his right hande the King Euarchus on whome they had nowe placed the greatest burthen of their feares, with ioyfull shoutes and applawding acclamations, they made him and the world quickly know that one mans sufficiencie is more auailable then ten thousands multitude. So euill ballanced be the extremities of popular mindes: and so much naturall imperiousnes there rests in a well formed spirit. For as if Euarchus had ben borne of the princely bloud of Arcadia, or that long and well acquainted proofe had engrafted him in their countrie, so flocked they about this straunger, most of them alredie, from deiected feares, rising to ambitious considerations, who should catch the first hold of his fauour. And then from those crying welcomes to babling one with the other, some praysing Philanax for his succeeding paine, others likinge Euarchus aspect, & as they iudged his age by his face, so iudging his wisedome by his age, Euarchus passed thorow them like a man that did neither disdaine a people nor yet was any thing tickled with their flatteries. But alwayes holding his owne, a man might reade a constant determination in his eyes. And in that sorte dismounting among them, he forthwith demaunded the conuocation to bee made, which accordingly was done, with as much order and silence: as it might appeare. Neptune had not more force to appease the rebellious winde, then the admiration of an extraordinary vertue hath, to temper a disordered multitude. He being raysed vp vppon a place more hie then the rest, where he might be best vnderstoode, in this sorte spake vnto them. I vnderstande saide hee, faithfull Arcadians, by my L. Philanax, that you haue with one consent, chosen me to be the iudge of the late euills hapned: orderer of the present disorders: and finally protector of this countrie, til therein it be seene what the customes of Arcadia require. He could saye no further, being stopped with a generall crie, that so it was; geuing him all the honourable titles, and happie wishes, they could imagin. He beckned vnto them for silence, and then thus againe proceeded, well-saide hee, how good choise you haue made, the attending must bee in
you, the proofe in me. But because it many times falls out, we are much deceaued in others, we being the first to deceaue ourselues, I am to require you, not to haue an ouershooting expectation of mee: the most cruell aduersary of all honourable doings. Nor promise yourselues wonders, out of a sodaine lyking: but remember I am a man, that is to say a creature, whose reason is often darkned with error. Seconly, that you will laye your hearts voyde of foretaken opinions: els whatsoeuer I doe or say, will be measured by a wronge rule, like them that the haue yellow Iaundise, euery thing seeming yellowe vnto them. Thirdly, whatsoeuer debates haue rysen among you, may be vtterly extinguished, knowing that euen among the best men are diuersities of opinions, which are no more in true reason to breed hatred, then one that loues black, should be angrie with him that is clothed in white, for thoughts & conceits are the verie apparel of the mind. Lastly, that you do not easely iudge of your iudge, but since you will haue me to command, thinke it is your part to obay. And in rewarde of this, I will promise and protest vnto you, that to the vttermost of my skill; but in the generall lawes of nature, especially of Greece, and particular of
Arcadia (wherein I must confesse I am not vnacquainted) I will not onely see the passed euills duly punished, and your weale here after established; but for your defence in it, if need shall requeir, I wil imploy the forces and treasures of mine owne country. In the meane time, this shalbe the first order I will take, that no man vnder paine of greeuous punishment, name me by any other name but protector of Arcadia.
For I will not leaue any possible culloure, to any of my naturall successors, to make claime to this, which by free election you haue bestowed vpon me. And so I vowe vnto you, to depose my self of it assoone as the iudgement is passed, the King buried, and his lawfull successor appointed. For the first whereof (I meane the trying; which be guiltie of the Kings death, and these other haynous trespasses, because your customes require such haste I will no longer delay it, then till to morrowe as soone as the Sunne shall giue vs fit opportunitie. You may therefore retire your selues to your rest, that you may be reddier to be present, at these so great important matters. Which many allowing tokens, was Euarchus speech heard, who nowe by Philanax (that tooke the principall care, of doing all due seruices vnto him) was offred a lodging made ready for him, (the rest of the people aswell as the small commoditie of that place, would suffer yeelding their weery heads to sleepe) when loe the night thorowly spent, in these mixed matters, was for that time banished the face of the earth, and Euarchus, seing the daye beginne to discloase his comfortable beauties, desiring nothing more, then to ioyne speede with iustice, willed Philanax,
presently to make the iudgement place bee put in order: and assoone as the people (who yet were not fully dispersed) might be brought together, to bring foorth the prisoners and the Kings body. Which the manner was, should in such cases be held in sight, though couered with blacke veluet, vntill they that were accused to be the murderers were quitted or condemned, whether the reason of the law were to shew the more gratefull loue to their Prince, or by that spectacle, the more to remember the iudge of his dutie. Philanax who now thought in himself, he approached by the iust reuenge he so much desired, went withall care and diligence to performe his charge. But first it shalbe well to knowe, how the poore and princely prisoners, passed this tedious night. There was neuer tyrante exercised his rage with more grieuous torments, vpon any he most hated; then afflicted Gynecia did crusifie her owne soule, after the guiltines of her harte, was surcharged with the sodainenes of her
husbāds death, for although that effect came not frō her minde yet her mind being euil, & the effect euill, she thought the iustice of God, had for the beginning of her paines copled thē together. This incessantly boyled in her brest, but most of al, whē
Philanax hauing cloasely imprisoned her, she was lefte more freely to suffer, the fierbrands of her owne thoughts, especially when it grewe darke, and had nothing left by her, but a little lampe, whose small light to a perplexed mind, might rather yeld feareful shadowes, then any assured sight. Then beganne the heapes of her miseries, to waye downe the platforme of her iudgement, then beganne despaire to laye his ougly clawes vpon her, shee beganne then, to feare the heauenly powers (shee was woont to reuerence) not like a childe, but like an enemie, neither kept she herselfe, from blasphemous repyning against her creation. O Gods would she crye out, why did you make me to destruction? If you loue goodnes, why did you not geue me a good minde? Or if I cannot haue it without your gifte, why doe you plague mee? Is it in me to resist the mightines of your power? Then would she imagine she sawe strange sights, and that she heard the cries of hellish ghostes, then would she skritch out for succour, but no man comming vnto her shee woulde faine haue killed her helfe, but knewe not how. At sometimes againe, the very heauines of her imaginations, would cloase vp her senses to a little sleepe: but then did her dreames become her tormentors. One time it would seeme vnto her, Philanax was haling her by the heare of the head, and hauing put out her eyes, was redy to throw her into a burning fornace. Another time she would thinke she sawe her husband making the complainte of his death to Pluto, and the magistrates of that infernall region, contending in great debate, to what eternal punishment they should allot her. But long her dreaming would not hold, but that it woulde fall vpon Zelmane: to whom shee would think she was crying for mercy, and that she did passe away by her in silence without any shew of pittying her mischief. Then waking out of a broken sleep, and yet wishing she might euer haue slept, new formes but of the same miseries, would seaze her minde, shee feared death, and yet desired death, shee had passed the vttermost of shame, and yet shame was one of her cruellest assaulters, she hated Pyrocles
as the originall of her mortall ouerthrowe: and yet the loue shee had conceaued to him, had still a hie authoritie of her passions. O Zelmane, would she say (not knowing how neere he himselfe was to as great a daunger) now shalt thou glut thy eyes, with the dishonoured death of thy enemie! Enemie alas enemie, since so thou haste wel shewed, thou wilt haue me accompt thee, couldest thou not aswel haue giuē me a determinate deniall, as to disguise thy first diguising, with a doble dissembling? Perchaunce if I had bene vtterly hopelesse, the vertue was once in me, might haue called together his forces, and not haue beene led captiue to this monstrous thraldome of punished wickednes. Then would her owne knowing of good enflame a new the rage of despaire: which becomming an vnresisted Lorde in her brest, shee had no other comforte but in death, which yet she had in horror, when she thought of. But the wearisome detesting of her selfe, made her long for the dayes approach, at which time shee determined to continue her former course in acknowledginge any thing, which might hasten her ende: Wherein although shee did not hope for the end of her torments, feeling alreadye the beginning of hell agonies; yet according to the nature of paine, the presente being most intollerable, shee desired to change that, and put to aduenture the ensuing. And thus rested the restlesse Gynecia, no lesse sorrowfull, though lesse ragefull were the mindes of the Princesse Pamela,
and the Lady Philoclea, whose only aduantages were, that they had not consented to so much euill, and so were at greater peace with themselues: and that they were not lefte alone, but might mutually beare parte of each others woes. For when Philanax not regarding Pamelas princely protestations, had by force left her vnder garde with her sister, and that the two sisters were matched, aswell in the disgraces of fortune, as they had beene in the best beauties of nature: those thinges that till then, bashfullnes and mistrust had made them holde reserued, one from the other, now feare the vnderminer of all determinations, and necessitie the victorious rebell of all lawes, forced them enterchaungeably to lay open. There passions then so swelling in them, as they woulde haue made Auditors of stones, rather then haue swallowed vp in silence, the choking aduentures were falne vnto them. Truely the hardest hartes, which haue at any time thought womans teares to be a matter of sleight compassion (imagining that faire weather, will quickly after followe) would now haue beene mollyfied: and bene compelled to confesse, that the fayrer a diamond is, the more pittie it is it shoulde receaue a bleamish. Although no doubte their faces, did rather beautifie sorrow, then sorrow coulde darken that, which euen in darkenes did shine. But after they had so long, as their other afflictions would suffer them, with doleful ceremonies bemoned their fathers death: they sate downe together apparrelled as their misaduentures had founde them. Pamela in her iournying weedes nowe conuerted to another vse: Philoclea onely in her night gowne, which she thought should bee the rayment of her funeralls. But when the excellent creatures, had after much panting (with their inwarde trauell) gotten so much breathing power, as to make a pittifull discourse one to the other, what had befallne them; and that by the plaine comparing the case they were in, they thorowlye founde, that their greiues, were not more like in regarde of themselues, then like in respecte of the subiecte (the two Princes (as Pamela had learned of Musidorus) being so minded, as they woulde euer make both their fortunes one) it did more vnite, and so strengthen their lamentation: seing the one coulde not bee miserable, but that it must necessarilie make the other miserable also. That, therfore was the first matter their sweet mouths deliuered, the declaring the passionate beginning, troblesome proceeding, and daungerous ending, their neuer ending loues had passed. And when at any time they entred into the prayses of the young Princes, to long it woulde haue exercised their tonges, but that their memory foorthwith warned them, the more prayse worthy they were the more at that time they were worthy of lamentation. Then againe to crying and wringing of handes; and then a newe, as vnquiet greefe sought each corner, to newe discourses, from discourses to wishes, from wishes to prayers. Especially the tender Philoclea, who as she was in yeares yonger, and had neuer lifted vp her minde to any opinion of souereignetie, so was she the apter to yeelde to her misfortune; hauing no stronger debates in her minde, then a man maye saye a most wittie childehoode is woont to nourish: as to imagine with her selfe, why
Philanax and the other noble men, shoulde deale so cruelly by her, that had neuer deserued euill of any of them? And howe they could finde in their hartes, to imprison such a personage, as she did figure Pyrocles, whome shee thought all the worlde was bounde to loue, as well as shee did? But Pamela, although endewed with a vertuous mildenes, yet the knowledge of her selfe, and what was due vnto her, made her hart full of a stronger disdaine, against her aduersitie.
So that she ioyned the vexacion for her friend, with the spite to see her selfe as she thought rebelliously detayned, and mixed desirous thoughts to helpe, with reuengefull thoughts if she could not helpe. And as in pangs of death, the stronger hart feeles the greater torment, because it doth the more resist to his oppressour; so her minde, the nobler it was set, and had already embraced the hyer thoughtes, so much more it did repine; and the more it repined, the more helplesse wounds it gaue vnto it selfe. But when great part of the night was passed ouer the dolefull musicke of these sweete Ladies complaints, and that leasure though with some strife, had brought Pamela to know, that an Eagle when she is in a Cage, must not thinke to do like an Eagle, remembring with themselues, that it was likely the next day, the Lords would proceed against those they had imprisoned. They imployed the rest of the night, in writing vnto them, with such earnestnes as the matter required, but in such stiles as the state of their thoughts was apt to fashion. In the meane time, Pyrocles and Musidorus, were recommended to so strong a guard, as they might well see it was meant, they should pay no lesse prise then their liues, for the getting out of that place, which they like men in deede, (fortifying courage with the true Rampier of patience) did so endure, as they did rather appeare gouernours of necessitie, then seruaunts to fortune. The whole summe of their thoughts resting vpon the safetie of their Ladyes, and their care one for the other: Wherein (if at all) their harts did seeme to receyue some softnes. For sometimes Musidorus would feele such a motion to his friend, and his vnworthy case, that he would fall into such kinde speeches. My Pyrocles would he say, how vnhappy may I thinke Thessalia, that hath bene as it were, the middle way to this euill estate of yours? For if you had not bene there brought vp, the Sea should not haue had this power, thus to seuer you from your deere father. I haue therefore, (if complayntes do at any time become a mans hart) most cause to complayne, since my Countrie, which receyued the honor of Pyrocles educacion, should be a step to his ouerthrowe, if humane chances can be compted an ouerthrowe to him, that stands vppon vertue. Oh excellent Musidorus aunswered Pyrocles, howe do you teache me rather, to fall out with my selfe, and my fortune, since by you I haue receyued all good, you only by me this affliction? to you and your vertuous mother, I in my tendrest yeares, and fathers greatest troubles, was sent for succour. There did I learne the sweete mysteries of Phylosophy; there had I your liuely example, to confirme that which I learned; there lastly had I your friendship, which no vnhappines can euer make me saye, but that hath made me happy. Now see how my desteny (the gods knowe) not my will, hath rewarded you: my father sends for you away out of your land, whence but for me you had not come: what after followed, you knowe. It was my loue not yours, which first stayed you heere; and therefore if the heauens euer held a iust proportion, it were I and not you, that should feele the smart. O blame not the heauens, sweete Pyrocles sayde Musidorus, as their course neuer alters, so is there nothing done by the vnreacheable ruler of them, but hath an euerlasting reason for it. And to saye the truth of these things, we should deale vngratefully with nature, if we should be forgetfull receyuers of her giftes, and so diligent Auditors of the chaunces we like not. We haue liued, and haue liued to be good to our selues, and others: our soules which are put into the sturring earth of our bodyes, haue atchieued the causes of their hether cōming: They haue knowne, & honoured with knowledge,
the cause of their creation, and to many men (for in this time, place, and fortune, it is lawfull for vs to speake gloriously) it hath bene behouefull, that we should liue. Since then eternitie is not to be had in this coniunction, what is to be lost by the separation, but time? which since it hath his ende, when that is once come, all what is past is nothing: and by the protracting nothing gotten, but labour and care. Do not me therefore that wrong, (who something in yeares, but much in all other deserts, am fitter to dye then you) as to say you haue brought me to any euill: since the loue of you, doth ouerballance all bodely mischiefes, and those mischiefes be but mischiefes to the basermindes, too much delighted with the kennell of this life. Neither will I any more yeeld to my passion of lamenting you, which howsoeuer it might agree to my exceeding friendship, surely it would nothing to your exceeding vertue. Add this to your noble speech my deere Cozen said Pirocles, that if we complaine of this our fortune, or seeme to our selues faultie, in hauing one hurt the other, we showe a repentance of the loue we beare to these matchlesse creatures, or at least a doubt, it should be ouerdeerely bought, which for my part (and so dare I aunswere for you) I call all the gods to witnesse, I am so farre from, that no shame, no torment, no death, would make me forgoe the least part, of the inward honor, essentiall pleasure, and liuing life, I haue enioyed in the presence of the faultlesse Philoclea. Take the preheminence in all things, but in true louing, aunswered Musidorus, for the confession of that no death shall get of me. Of that aunswered Pirocles soberly smiling, I perceiue wee shall haue a debate in the other world, if at least there remayne any thing of remembrance in that place. I do not thinke the contrarye sayde Musidorus, although you knowe, it is greately helde, that with the death of bodye and sences (whiche are not onely the beginning, but dwelling and nourishing of passions, thoughts and immaginations) they fayling, memorye likewise fayles, which riseth onely out of them: and then is there left nothing, but the intellectuall parte or intelligence, which voide of all morall vertues, which stande in the meane of perturbacions, doth onely liue in the contemplatiue vertue, and power of the omnipotent good, the soule of soules, and vniuersall life of this great worke, and therefore is vtterly voide, from the possibilitie of drawing to it selfe, these sensible considerations. Certenly answered Pirocles, I easely yeeld, that we shall not knowe one another, and much lesse these passed things, with a sensible or passionate knowledge. For the cause being taken away, the effect followes. Neither do I thinke, we shall haue such a memorye, as nowe we haue, which is but a relicke of the senses, or rather a print the senses haue left of things passed, in our thoughtes, but it shall be a vitall power of that very intelligence; which as while it was heere, it helde the chiefe seate of our life, and was as it were the last resorte, to which of all our knowledges, the hyest appeale came, and so by that meanes was neuer ignorant of our actions, though many times rebelliously resisted, alwayes with this prison darkened: so, much more being free of that prison, and returning to the life of all things, where all infinite knowledge is, it cannot but be a right intelligence, which is both his name and being, of things both present and passed, though voyde of imagining to it selfe any thing, but euen growen like to his Creator, hath all things, with a spirituall knowledge before it. The difference of which is as hard for vs to conceaue, as it had for vs, when wee were in our mothers wombes, to comprehende (if any body would haue tould vs)
what kinde of light we nowe in this life see. What kinde of knowledge we nowe haue, yet nowe we do not only feele our present being, but we conceaue what we were before we were borne, though remembrance make vs not do it, but knowledge, and though we are vtterly without any remorse of any misery, we might then suffer. Euen such and much more odds, shall there be at that second deliuery of ours; when voyde of sensible memorye, or memoratiue passion, wee shall not see the cullours, but lifes of all things that haue bene or can be: and shall as I hope knowe our friendship, though exempt from the earthlie cares of friendship, hauing both vnited it, and our selues, in that hye and heauenly loue of the vnquenchable light. As he had ended his speeche, Musidorus looking with a heauenly ioy vpon him, sang this song vnto him, he had made before loue turned his muse to another subiecte.
SInce natures workes be good, and death doth serue
As natures worke: why should we feare to dye?
Since feare is vaine, but when it may preserue,
Why should we feare, that which we cannot flye?
Feare is more paine, then is the paine it feares,
Disarming humane mindes, of natiue might:
While each conceate, an ouglie figure beares,
Which were not euill, well vew'd in reasons light.
Our owly eyes, which dimm'd with passions bee,
And scarce discerne the dawne of comming day,
Let them be clearde, and now begin to see,
Our life is but a step, in dustie way.
Then let vs holde, the blisse of peacefull minde,
Since this we feele, great losse we cannot finde.
Thus did they like quiet Swannes, sing their owne obsequies, and vertuously enhable theyr mindes against all extremities, which they did thinke woulde fall vppon them, especially resoluing, that the fyrst care they would haue, should be by taking the faulte vpon themselues, to cleere the two Ladyes, of whose case (as of nothing else that had happened) they had not any knowledge. Although their friendly hoste, the honest Gentleman Kalander, seeking all meanes how to helpe them, had endeuored to speake with them, and to make them knowe who should be their iudge. But the curious seruaunt of Philanax forbad him the entrye, vppon paine of death. For so it was agreed vppon, that no man should haue any conference with them, for feare of newe tumults. Insomuch that Kalander was constrayned to retire himselfe, hauing yet obtayned thus much, that he would deliuer vnto the two Princes, their apparell and iewells, which being left with him at Mantinea, (wisely considering that theyr disguised weedes, which were all as then they had, would make them more odious in the sight of the iudges) he had that night sent for, and now brought vnto them. They accepted their owne, with great thankefulnes, knowing from whence it came, and attired themselues in it against the nexte daye, which being in deede ritch and princely, they accordinglye
determined to maintaine the names of Palladius and Daiphantus, as before it is mencioned. Then gaue they themselues to consider, in what sort they might defende their causes, for they thought it no lesse vaine to wish death, then cowardly to feare it, till something before morning, a small slumber taking them, they were by and by after callde vp to come to the aunswere, of no lesse then theyr liues imported. But in this sort was the iudgement ordred. As soone as the morning had taken a full possession of the Element, Euarchus called vnto him Philanax, and willed him to draw out into the middest of the greene (before the chiefe lodge) the throne of iudgement seate, in which Basilius was woont to sit, and according to their customes, was euer carried with the Prince. For Euarchus did wisely consider, the people to be naturally taken with exterior shewes, farre more then with inward consideracion, of the materiall pointes. And therefore in this newe entrie into so entangled a matter, he would leaue nothing which might be eyther an armour or ornament vnto him, and in these pompous ceremonyes he well knewe a secreat of gouernment much to consist. That was performed by the diligent Philanax, and therein Euarchus did set himselfe all cloathed in blacke, with the principall men, who could in that sodainenes prouide themselues of such mourning rayments. The whole people commaunded to keepe an orderly silence of each side, which was duly obserued of them, partly for the desire they had to see a good conclusion of these matters, and partly striken with admiracion, aswell at the graue and princely presence of Euarchus, as at the greatnes of the cause, which was then to come in question. As for Philanax, Euarchus woulde haue done him the honour to sit by him, but he excused himselfe, desiring to be the accuser of the prisoners in his maisters behalfe; and therefore since he made himselfe a partie, it was not conuenient for him to sit in the iudiciall place. Then was it awhile deliberated, whether the two young Ladies, should be brought forth in open presence, but that was stopped by Philanax, whose loue and faith, did descend from his maister to his children, and only desired, the smart should light vpon the others, whome he thought guiltie of his death and dishonour, alleaging for this, that neyther wisedome would, they should be brought in presence of the people, which might herevpon growe to new vprores: nor iustice required, they should be drawen to any shame, till some body accused them. And as for Pamela, he protested the lawes of Arcadia would not allowe any iudgement of her, although she her selfe, were to determine nothing, till age or marriage enabled her. Then the Kings body being layde vppon a Table, iust before Euarchus, and all couered ouer with blacke, the prisoners, namely the Queene, and two young Princes, were sent for to appeare in the Protectors name: which name was the cause, they came not to knowledge, how neere a kinseman was to iudge of them, but thought him to be some Noble man, chosen by the Country, in this extremitye. So extraordinary course, had the order of the heauens produced at this time, that both nephewe and sonne, were not only prisoners, but vnknowen, to their vncle and father, who of many yeares had not seene them. And Pyrocles was to pleade for his life before that throne, in which throne lately before he had saued the Kings life. But first was Gynecia led foorth, in the same weedes that the daye and night before she had worne, sauing that in stead of Zelmanes garment in which she was founde, she had cast on a long cloake, which reached to the ground of russed course cloath, with a poore felt hat, which almost couered all
her face, most part of her goodly heare (on which her hands had layd many a spitefull holde) so lying vpon her shoulders, as a man might well see, had no artificiall carelesnes. Her eyes downe on the ground, of purpose not to looke on Pyrocles face, which she did not so much shunne, for the vnkindnes she conceaued of her owne ouerthrow, as for the feare, those motions in this short time of her life, should be reuiued, which she had with the passage of infinite sorrowes mortified. Great was the compassion the people felt, to see their Princesse state, and beawtie, so deformed by fortune and her owne desert, whome they had euer found a Lady most worthy of all honour. But by and by the sight of the other two prisoners, drewe most of the eyes to that spectacle. Pyrocles came out led by Sympathus, cloathed after the Greeke manner, in a long coate of white veluet, reaching to the small of his legge, with great buttons of Diamonds all along vppon it: His neck without any coller, not so much as hidden with a ruffe, did passe the whitenes of his garments, which was not much in fashion vnlike to the crimson rayment, our Knightes of the order first put on. On his feete he had nothing but slippers, which after the auncient manner, were tyed vp with certayne laces, which were fastened vnder his knee, hauing wrapped about (with many pretty knots) his naked legs. His fayre auberne heare (which he ware in great length, and gaue at that time a delightfull shew, with being sturd vp and downe with the breath of a gentle winde) had nothing vppon it, but a white Ribbin, in those dayes vsed for a Diademe. Which rolled once or twise about the vppermost parte of his forehead, fell downe vppon his backe, cloased vp at each ende with the richest pearle were to be seene in the world. After him followed an other Noble man, guiding the noble Musidorus. Who had vpon him, a long cloake, after the fashion of that, which we call the Apostles mantle, made of purple Satten; not that purple which we now haue, and is but a counterfet of the Getulian purple (which yet was farre the meaner in price and estimacion) but of the right Tyrian purple, which was neerest to a cullour betwixt our murrey and skarlet. On his head, which was blacke and curled, he ware a Persian Tiara, all set downe with rowes of so rich Rubies, as they were inough to speake for him, that they had to iudge of no meane personage.
In this sorte with erected countenaunces, did these vnfortunate Princes suffer themselues to be ledd, shewing aright by the comparison of them and Ginecia, how to diuers persons, compassion is diuersly to be sturred. For as to Ginecia,
a Ladie knowne of great estate, and greatly esteemed, the more miserable representation was made of her sodaine ruyne, the more mens heartes were forced to bewayle such an euident witnesse of weake humanitie: so to these men, not regarded because vnknowne, but rather (besides the detestacion of their facte) hated as straungers, the more they shoulde haue falne downe in an abiecte semblance, the more in steed of compassion they shoulde haue gotten contempt: but therefore, were to vse (as I may tearme it) the more violence of magnanimitye, and so to conquer the expectation of the lookers, with an extraordinarye vertue. And such effecte in deede it wrought in the whole assemblye, theyr eyes yet standing as it were in ballance, to whether of them they should most directe theyr sight. Musidorus was in stature so much higher then Pyrocles, as commonly is gotten by one yeares growth. His face now beginning to haue some tokens of a beard, was composed to a kinde of manlike beawtie.
His cullour was of a well pleasing brownenes, & the features of it such, as they caried both delight and maiestie: his countenance seuere, and promising a minde much giuen to thinking. Pyrocles of a pure complexion, and of such a cheerefull fauour, as might seeme either a womans face on a boy, or an excellent boyes face in a woman. His looke gentle and bashfull, which bred the more admiracion, hauing shewed such notable proofes of courage. Lastly, though both had both, if there were any ods, Musidorus was the more goodly, and Pyrocles the more louely. But assoone as Musidorus saw himselfe so farre forth led among the people, that he knew to a great number of them his voyce should be heard, misdoubting their intention to the Princesse Pamela, (of which he was more carefull then of his owne life,) euen as he went (though his leader sought to interrupt him) he thus with a lowde voyce spake vnto them. And is it possible ô Arcadians, sayd he, that you can forget the naturall dutie you owe to your Princesse Pamela? hath this soyle bene so little beholding to her noble Auncesters? hath so long a time rooted no surer loue in your hearts to that line? Where is that faith to your Princes blood, which hath not only preserued you from all daungers heretofore, but hath spred your fame to all the nations in the world? Where is the iustice, the Arcadians were wont to flourish in, whose nature is to render to euery one his owne? Will you now keepe the right from your Prince, who is the only geuer of iudgement, the keye of iustice, and life of your lawes? Do you hope in a fewe yeares, to set vp such another race, which nothing but length of time can establish? Will you reward Basilius children with vngratefulnes, the very poyson of manhood? Will you betray your long setled reputation, with the fowle name of traytors? Is this your mourning for your Kings death, to encrease his losse with his daughters misery? Imagin your Prince do looke out of the heauens vnto you, what do you thinke he could wish more at your hands then that you do well by his children? And what more honor I pray you can you do to his obsequies, then to satisfie his soule with a louing memorie, as you do his body with an vnfelt solemnitie? What haue you done with the Princesse Pamela? Pamela the iust enheretrix of this Countrey, Pamela whom this earth may be happy, that it shall be hereafter sayde she was borne in Arcadia. Pamela in her selfe your ornament, in her education your foster childe, and euery way your only Princesse, what accompt can you render to your selues of her? Truly I do not thinke that you all knowe what is become of her: so soone may a Diamond be lost? so soone may the fayrest light in the world be put out. But looke, looke vnto it, O Arcadians, be not so wilfully robbed of your greatest treasure, make not your selues ministers to priuate ambitions, who do but vse your selues to put on your owne yokes. Whatsoeuer you determine of vs (who I must confesse are but strangers) yet let not Basilius daughters be straungers vnto you. Lastly, howsoeuer you barre her from her publicke souereigntie, (which if you do, little may we hope of equitie where rebellion raignes) yet deny not that childs right vnto her, that she may come and do the last duties to her fathers body. Deny not that happines (if in such a case there be any happines) to your late King, that his body may haue his last touch of his deerest child. With such like broken maner of questions and speeches, was Musidorus desirous as much as in passing by them he could, to moue the people to tender Pamelas fortune. But at length by that they came to the iudgement place, both Sympathus and his guider had greatly satisfied him, with the assurance they gaue him, this assemblie of people had neyther meaning nor power, to
do any hurt to the Princesse, whome they all acknowledged as their souereigne Lady. But that the custome of Arcadia was such, till she had more yeares, the state of the country to be guided by a Protector, vnder whome, he and his fellow were to receiue their iudgement. That eased Musidorus hart of his most vehement care, when he found his beloued Lady to be out of daunger. But Pyrocles assoone as the Queene of the one side, he and Musidorus of the other, were stayed before the face of their iudge, (hauing only for their barre the Table on which the Kings body lay) being nothing lesse vexed with the doubt of Philoclea, then Musidorus was for Pamela, in this sort with a lowlie behauiour, and only then like a suppliant, he spake to the Protector. Pardon me most honoured Iudge, said he, that vncommaunded I begin my speech vnto you, since both to you and me, these wordes of mine shall be most necessary. To you hauing the sacred exercise of iustice in your hand, nothing appertaines more properly then truth nakedly & freely set downe. To me, being enuironed round about with many daungerous calamities, what can be more conuenient, then at least, to be at peace with my selfe, in hauing discharged my conscience, in a most behouefull veritie. Vnderstand therefore, and truly vnderstand, that the Lady Philoclea (to whose vnstayned vertue it hath bene my vnspeakeable miserye, that my name should become a blot) if she be accused, is most vniustly accused of any dishonorable fact, which by my meanes she may be thought to haue yelded vnto. Whatsoeuer hath bene done, hath bene my only attempt, which notwithstanding was neuer intended against her chastetye. But whatsoeuer hath bene enformed, was my fault. And I attest the heauens, to blaspheame which I am not now in fit tune, that so much as my comming into her chamber, was wholie vnwitting vnto her. This your wisdome may withall consider, if I would lye, I would lye for mine owne behoofe, I am not so olde, as to be weary of my selfe; But the very sting of my inward knowledge ioyned with the consideracion I must needes haue, what an infinite losse it should be to all those whose loue goodnes in good folkes, if so pure a child of vertue should wrongfully be destroyed, compells me to vse my toong against my selfe, and receiue the burden of what euill was, vppon my owne doing. Looke therefore with pittifull eyes vppon so fayre beames, and that misfortune which by me hath fallen vppon her, helpe to repaier it with your publicke iudgement, since whosoeuer deales cruelly with such a creature, shewes himselfe a hater of mankinde, and an enuier of the worlds blisse. And this peticion I make, euen in the name of iustice, that before you proceed further against vs, I may knowe how you conceiue of her noble, though vnfortunate action, and what iudgement you will make of it. He had not spoken his last word, when all the whole people both of great and low estate, confirmed with an vnited murmur Pyrocles demaund, longing (for the loue generally was borne Philoclea) to knowe what they might hope of her. Euarchus though neither regarding a prisoners passionate prayer, nor bearing ouerplausible eares to a many hedded motion, yet well enough content, to winne their liking with things in themselues indifferent, he was content: first, to seeke asmuch as might be of Philocleas behauior, in this matter: which being cleered by Pyrocles, & but weakely gaynesayd by Philanax (who had framed both his owne & Damaetas euidence most for her fauour and in truth could haue gone no further then coniecture,) yet finding by his wisedome, that she was not altogether faultlesse, he pronounced, she should all her life long, be kept prisoner among certaine women of religion like
the vestall nonnes, so to repaye their touched honour of her house, with well obseruing a stryctt profession of chastitie. Although this were a greate preiudicating of Pyrocles case, yet was hee exceedingly ioyous of it, being assured of his Ladies life; and in the depth of his minde not sorry, that what ende soeuer he had, none should obtaine the after enioying that Iewell, whereon he had set his liues happines. After it was by publicque sentence deliuered, what should be done with the sweete Philoclea, (the lawes of Arcadia bearing, that what was appointed by the magistrates in the noneage of the Prince, coulde not afterwards be repealed) Euarchus still vsing to himselfe no other name but protector of Arcadia, commaunded those that had to say against the Queene Gynecia to proceede, because both her estate required shee shoulde bee first heard, and also for that shee was taken to bee the principall, in the greatest matter they were to iudge of. Philanax incontinently stepped foorth, and shewing in his greedy eyes, that he did thirst for her bloud, beganne a well thought on discourse of her (in his iudgement) execrable wickednes. But Gynecia standing vp before the iudge, casting abroad her armes, with her eyes hiddē vnder the bredth of her vnseemely hart, laying open in all her gestures the despairefull affliction, to which all the might of her reason was conuerted, with such like words stopped Philanax, as hee was entring into his inuectiue oration. Staye staie Philanax saide shee, do not defile thy honest mouth, with those dishonourable speeches thou arte about to vtter, against a woman, now most wretched, lately thy mistresse. Let either the remembraunce how great she was, moue thy harte to some reuerence; or the seing how lowe she is, sturre in thee some pittie. It may be truth doth make thee deale vntruely; and loue of iustice frames vniustice in thee, doe not therefore (neither shalt thou neede treade vpon my desolate ruines. Thou shalt haue that thou seekest; and yet shalt not be oppressoure of her, who cannot choose but loue thee, for thy singular faith to thy master. I doe not speake this to procure mercie, or to prolong my life, no no I say vnto you I will not liue, but I am onely loth, my death shoulde bee engreeued with any wronge thou shouldest doe vnto me. I haue beene to painefull a iudge ouer my selfe, to desire pardon in others iudgement. I haue beene to cruell an executioner of mine owne soule, to desire that execution of iustice shoulde bee stayed for me. Alas they that know, how sorrow can rent the spirits, they that know what fiery hells are cōtiened in a self condemning mind, need not feare that feare can keepe such a one, from desiring to be seperated from that, which nothing but death can seperate. I therefore say to thee (O iust iudge) that I and only I, was the worker of Basilius death. They were these handes that gaue vnto him that poysonous potion, that hath brought death to him, and losse to Arcadia, it was I and none but I, that hastened his aged yeares, to an vnnaturall end, and that haue made all his people orphans, of their royall father. I am the subiect that haue killed my Prince, I am the wife that haue murdred my husband, I am a degenerate woman, an vndoer of this countrie, a shame of my children. What wouldest thou haue saide more Oh
Philanax? and all this I graunt, there resteth then nothing els to say, but that I desire you, you will appointe quicklie somme to ridd mee of my life, rather then these handes, which ells are destenied vnto it, and that indeede it maye bee doone with such speede as I may not long dye in this life, which I haue in so greate horrour: with that shee crossed her armes, and sate downe vppon the grounde, attending the iudges aunswere. But a greate while it was, before anye boddye coulde bee heard speake, the whole people concurring in a lamentable crye, so much had Gynecias
wordes and behauiour sturred their hartes to a dolefull compassion, neither in troath coulde most of them in their iudgements tell, whether they shoulde bee more sorrie for her faulte or her miserie: for the losse of her estate, or losse of her vertue. But most were most moued, with that which was vnder there eyes: the sense most subiecte to pittie. But at length the reuerent awe they stoode in of Euarchus, brought them to a silent wayting his determination, who hauing well considered the abhomination of the facte, attending more the manifest proofe of so horrible a trespasse; confessed by her selfe, and proued by others; then any thing relenting to those tragicall phrases of hers (apter to sturre a vulgare pittie, then his minde, which hated euill, in what culloures so euer he founde it) hauing considered a while with the principall men of the country, and demaunded there allowance, he definitiuely gaue this sentence. That where as both in priuate and publike respectes, this woman had most haynously offēded, (in priuate, because marriage being the most holy coniunction that falls to mankinde, out of which all families and so consequently all societies doe proceede, which not onely by communitie goods, but communitie children, is to knit the mindes in a most perfet vnion, which who so breakes dissolues al humanitie, no man liuing free from the danger of so neere a neighbour, she had not onely broken it, but broken it with death, and the most pretended death that might be: In publike respect, the Princes persons; being in all monarchall gouernmentes the very knot of the peoples welfare, and light of all their doinges to which they are not onely in conscience, but in necessitie bounde to be loyall, she had trayterously empoysoned him, neither regarding her contries profit, her owne dutie, nor the rigor of the lawes.) That therefore, as well for the due satisfaction to eternall iustice, and accomplishment of the Arcadian statutes, as for the euerlasting example to all wiues and subiectes, she should presently be conueyed to cloase prison, and there be kept with such foode as might serue to sustaine her aliue, vntill the day of her husbands buryall, at which time, shee shoulde bee buried quicke, in the same tombe with hime. That so his murder might bee a murder to her selfe, and she forced to keepe company with the body from which she had made so detestable a seuerance; And lastly death might redresse their disioyned coniunction of marriage. His iudgement was receaued of the whole assemblie, as not with disliking, so with great astonishmēt, the greatnes of the matter and person as it were ouerpressing the might of their conceites. But when they did set it to the beame, with the monstrousnes of her ouglye misdeede, they coulde not but yeeld in their hartes, there was no ouerbalancing. As for Gynecia, who had already setled her thoughts, not only to look but long for this euent, hauing in this time of her vexation, found a sweetnes in the rest she hoped by death, (with a countenaunce witnessing she had before hand so passed thorowe all the degrees of sorrowe, that shee had no new looke to figure forth any more) rase vp and offred forth her faite handes to bee bounde or led as they would, being indeed troubled with no parte of this iudgement, but that her death was as she thought long delayed. They that were appointed for it conueyed her to the place she was in before, where the guarde was relieued, and the number encreased to keepe her more sure for the time of her execution: None of them all that led her, though most of them were such, whose harts had beene long hardned with the often exercising such offices, being able to barre teares from their eyes, and others manifest tokens of compassionate sorrow. So goodly a vertue is a resolute constancie, that euen in euill deseruers, it seemes that partie might haue beene notably
well deseruing. Thus the excellent Lady Gynecia, hauing passed fiue and thirtie yeares of her age, euen to admiration of her beautifull minde and body, and hauing not in her owne knowledge, euer spotted her soule with any wilfull vice, but her imoderate loue of Zelmane, was brought, first by the violence of that ill answered passion, and then by the dispayring conceite, she took of the iudgement of God in her husbandes death and her owne fortune, purposely to ouerthrowe her selfe, and confirme by a wronge confession, that abhominable shame, which with her wisdome, ioynde to the truth, perhappes shee might haue refelled. Then did Euarchus aske Philanax, whether it were he that would charge the two yonge prisoners, or that some other shoulde doe it, and hee sit according to his estate, as an assistant in the iudgement. Philanax tolde him as before hee had done, that hee thought no man coulde laye manifest the naughtines of those two yong men, with so much either truth or zeale as himselfe, and therefore he desired he might do this last seruice to his faithfully beloued master, as to prosecute the traiterous causers of his death and dishonour; which being done, for his parte hee ment to geue vp all dealing in publicke affaires, since that man was gone who had made him loue them. Philanax thus being redye to speake, the two Princes were commaunded to tell their names who aunswered according to their agreements, that they were Daiphantus of Lycia, and Palladius Prince of Iberia. Which when they had said, they demaunded to know by what aucthoritie, they coulde iudge of them, since they were not only forryners and so not borne vnder their lawes, but absolute Princes and therefore not to bee touched by lawes. But aunswere was presently made them, that Arcadia lawes, were to haue their force vpon any were founde in Arcadia: since strangers haue scope to know the customes of a country, before they put them selues in it: and when they once are entred, they must knowe, that what by many was made, must not for one bee broken. And so much lesse for a straunger, as hee is to looke for no priueledge in that place, to which in time of neede, his seruice is not to be expected. As for their being Princes, whether they were so orno, the beleefe stood in their own wo
•
des, which they had so diuersly falsifyed, as they did not deserue beleefe. But what soeuer they were, Arcadia, was to acknowledge them but as priuate men, since they were neither by magistracy nor alliance to the princely bloud, to claime any thing in that region. Therefore if they had offended, (which now by the plaintife and there defence was to bee iudged) against the lawes of nations; by the lawes of nations they were to be chastised: if against the peculiare ordinaunces of the prouince those peculiare ordinaunces were to laye hold of them. The Princes stoode a while vpon that demaunding leasure to giue perfecte knowledge of their greatnes; but when they were aunswered, that in a case of a Princes death, the lawe of that contrie had euer beene, that imediate tryall shoulde bee had: they were forced to yeelde, resolued that in those names, they woulde as much as they could, couer the shame of their royall parentage, and keepe as long as might be (if euill were determined against them) the euill newes from their carefull kinsfolke, wherein the chiefe man they considered was Euarchus: whom the strange and secreate working of iustice, had brought to be the iudge ouer them, in such a shadowe, or rather pit of darkenes, the wormish mankinde liues, that neither they knowe how to foresee, nor what to feare: and are but like tenisballs, tossed by the racket of the hyer powers. Thus both sides reddie, it was determined, because their cases were separated. First Philanax shoulde be hard against Pyrocles, whome they termed Daiphantus, and
that heard, the others cause shoulde followe, and so receaue together such iudgement, as they should be found to haue deserued. But Philanax that was euen shorte breathed at the first, with the extreame vehemencie he had to speake against them, stroking once or twise his forehead, and wiping his eyes, (which either wepte, or he woulde at that time haue them seeme to weepe,) looking first vpon Pyrocles, as if he had proclaymed all hatefullnes against him, humblie turning to Euarchus, (who with quiet grauitie, shewed great attention) he thus began his oration. That which all men, who take vpon them to accuse an other, are woont to desire (most worthy protector) to haue many proofes of my faultes in them they seeke to haue condemned: that is to me in this present action, my greatest comber, and anoyaunce. For the number is so great, and the quallitie so monstrous, of the enormities this wretched young man hath committed, that neither I in my selfe, can tell where to begin (my thoughts being confused with the horrible multitude of them) neither doe I thinke your vertuous eares will be able to endure the reporte: But will rather imagine, you heare some tragedie inuented of the extremitie of wickednes, then a iust resitall of a wickednes indeed committed, for such is the disposition of the most sincere iudgements, that as they can belieue meane faultes, and such as mans nature may slide into, so when they passe to a certaine degree, nay when they passe all degrees of vnspeakeable naughtines, then finde they in themselues a hardenes to geue credit, that humane creatures, can so from all humanitie bee transformed. But in my selfe, the strength of my faith to my deade master wil helpe the weakenes of my memory; in you, your excellent loue of iustice will force you to vouchsafe attention: And as for the matter, it is so manifest, so pittifull euidences lie before your eyes of it, that I shall neede to bee but a breife recounter, and no rhetoricall enlarger of this most harmefull mischiefe. I will therefore, in as fewe wordes as so huge a trespasse can bee conteyned, deliuer vnto you the sum of this miserable fact: leauing out a great number of particular tokens, of his naughtines, and only touching the essentiall pointes, of this dolefull case. This man, whome to beginne withall I know not how to name, since being come into this contrie, vnaccompanied like a loste pilgrime, from a man grewe a woman, from a woman a rauisher of wemen, thence a prisoner, and now a Prince. But this Zelmane, this Daiphantus, this what you will, (for any shape or title he can take vpon him, that hath no restrainte of shame) hauing vnderstoode the solitatie life my late master liued, and considering how open he had layde himselfe to any trayterous attempte, for the first maske of his falsehoode, disguised himselfe like a woman: which being the more simple and hurtelesse sexe, might easier hide his subtle harmefullnes. And presenting himselfe to my master, the most curteous Prince that liued, was receaued of him with so greate gratiousnes, as might haue bounde not only any gratefull minde, but might haue mollified any enemies rancoure. But this venemous serpent, admitted thus into his bosome, as contagion will easily finde a fit body for it, so had he quickly falne into so neere acquaintaunce with this naughtie woman, whom euen now you haue most iustly condemned, that this was her right hand, shee sawe with no eyes but his, nor seemed to haue any life but in him, so glad shee was to finde one more cunning then her selfe, in couering wickednes with a modest vaile. What is to be thought passed betwixt two such vertuous creatures, whereof the one hath confessed murder, and the other rape, I leaue to your wise cōsideration. For my hart hastens to the miserable point of Basilius murder, for the executing of which with more facilitie, this yong nimph of Dianas bringing
〈1 page duplicate〉
〈1 page duplicate〉
vp, fayned certaine rites she had to performe, so furious an impietie had caried him, from all remembrance of goodnes, that hee did not onely not feare the Gods, as the beholders and punishers of so vngodly a villany, but did blasphemously vse their sacred holly name, as a minister vnto it. And forsooth a Caue hereby was chosen, for the temple of his deuotions, a Caue of such darkenes, as did prognosticate he ment to please the infernall powers, for there this accurssed catife, vpon the alter of falshood, sacrificed the life of the vertuous Basilius. By what meanes he trayned him thether, alas I knowe not, for if I might haue knowen it, either my life had accompanied my master, or this fellowes death had preserued him. But this may suffise, that in the mouth of this Caue, where this traytor had his lodginge and chapple, when already master sheepeheard his companion, had conueyed away the vndoubted enheritrix of this cuntrie, was Gynecia founde by the dead corps of her husband, newly empoysoned, apparelled in the garments of the young Lady, and reddy no question to haue fled to some place, according to their consorte, but that she was by certaine honest-shepeheards arrested: while in the meane time, because their should be lefte no reuenger of this bloudy mischief, This noble Amazon, was violently gotten into the chamber of the Lady Philoclea, wherby the mingling as much as in him lay) of her shame, with his misdeede, he might enforce her to be the accessary to her fathers death, and vnder the countenaunce of her and her sister (against whom they knew wee woulde not rebell) seaze as it were with one gripe into their treacherous hands, the regiment of the mightie prouince. But the almightie eye preuented him of the end of his mischiefe, by vsing a villaine Damaetas hand, to enclose him in there, where with as much fortification as in a house could be made, he thought himselfe in most securitie. Thus see you most iust iudge, a shorte and simple story of the infamous misery, falne vpon this contrie. In deed infamous, since by an effeminate man, we should suffer a greater ouerthrow, then our mightiest enemies haue ben euer able to lay vpon vs. And that all this, which I haue said is most manifest, aswell of the murdering of Basilius, as the rauishing of Philoclea, (for those two partes I establish of my accusation) who is of so incredulous a minde, or rather who will so stoppe his eyes from seing a thing cleerer then the light, as not to holde for assured so palpable a matter. For to beginne with his most cruell misdeede, is it to be imagined, that Gynecia (a woman though wicked, yet wittie) woulde haue attempted and atchieued an enterprise, no lesse hazardous then horrible, without hauing some councellor in the beginning, and some comforter in the performing? Had she, who shewed her thoughtes, were so ouerruled with some straunge desire, as in despite of God, nature and womanhood, to execute that in deedes, which in wordes wee cannot heare without trembling, had shee I saye no practise to leade her vnto it? Or had shee a practise without conspiracie? Or coulde shee co
•••
re without some boddye to conspire with? And if one were; whoe so likelye as this, to whome shee communicated I am sure her minde, the worlde thinkes her boddye? Neither let her wordes taking the whole faulte vppon her selfe, bee heerein any thinge availeable. For to those persons who haue vomited out of their soules all remnants of goodnes, there restes a certaine pride in euill, and hauing ells no shadowe of glorye lefte them, they glorye to bee constante in iniquitye, and that God knowes must bee helde out to the laste gaspe, without reuealing their accomplices. As thinking greate courage is declared, in being neither affeard of the heauens nor ashamed of the worlde. But let Gynecias action dye with her selfe, what
can all the earth answere for his comming hether? Why alone, if hee bee a Prince? How so richly Iewelled if he be not a prince? Why then a woman if nowe a man? Why now Daiphantus, if then Zelmane? Was all this play for nothing, or if it had an ende, what ende but the ende of my deere master? Shall we doubte so many secret conferences with Gynecia, such fained fauour to the ouer soone beguiled Basilius, a Caue made a lodging, and the same lodging made a temple of his religion, lastly such changes and trauerses, as a quiet Poet coulde scarse fill a poeme withal, were directed to any lesse scope, then to this monstrous murder? O snakie ambition, which can winde thy selfe in so many figures, to slyde thether thou desirest to come! O corrupted reason of mankinde, that can yeelde to deforme thy selfe with so filthie desires! And O hopelesse bee those mindes, whom so vnnaturall desires doe not, with their owne ouglinesse sufficiently terrefie! But yet euen of fauour let vs graunt him thus much more, as to fancie that in these foretolde thinges, fortune might be a greate Actor, perchaunce to an euill ende yet to a lesse euill end all these entangled deuises were entended. But I beseech your Ladyshippe, my Lady Daiphantus tell me, what excuse can you finde for the chaunging your lodging, with the Queene that verie instant shee was to finish her execrable practise? How can you cloake the lending of your cloake vnto her, was all that by chance too? Had the starres sent such an influence vnto you, as you should bee iuste weary of your lodging, and garments, when our Prince was destenied to the slaughter? What say you to this, O shamefull and shamelesse creature? Fit indeede to bee the dishonour of both sexes. But alas, I spend too many words in so manifest and so miserable a matter. They must be foure wilde horses (which according to our lawes are the executioners of men which murdre our Prince) which must decide this question with you. Yet see so farre had my zeale to my beloued Prince transported me, that I had almost forgotten my second parte, and his seconde abhomination, I meane his violence offred to the Lady Philoclea: wherewith as if it had wel become his womanhoode, he came brauing to the iudgement seate, indeede our lawes appointe not so cruell a death (although death too) for this sacte as for the other. But whosoeuer well wayes it, shall finde it spronge out of the same fountaine of mischeuous naughtines, the killing of the father, dishonouring the mother, and rauishing the child. Alas could not so many benifites receaued of my Prince, the iustice of nature, the right of hospitalitie, be a bridle to thy lust, if not to thy crueltie? Or if thou hadest (as surely thou haste) a harte recompensing goodnes with hatred, could not his death, which is the last of reuenges, satisfie thy mallice, but thou must heape vpō it the shame of his daughter? Were thy eyes so stonie, thy brest so tygreshe, as the sweete and beautifull shewes of Philocleas vertue, did not astonish thee? O wofull Arcadia, to whom the name of this mankinde curtisan, shall euer be remembred as a procurer of thy greatest losse! But too farre I finde my passion, yet honest passion hath guided mee; the case is euerie way too too much vnanswearable. It resteth in you O excellent protector to pronounce iudgement, which if their bee hope, that such a yonge man may proue proffitable to the world, who in the first exercise of his owne determination, farre passed the arrantest strumpet in luxuriousnesse, the conningest forger in falsehoode, a player in disguising, a Tygre in crueltie, a Dragon in ingratefulnes; let him be preserued like a iewell, to doe greater mischeefe. Yf his youth bee not more defiled with trecherie, then the eldest
mans age, let I say his youth, be some cause of compassion. If hee haue not euery way sought the ouerthrowe of humaine societie, if hee haue done any thing like a Prince, let his naming himselfe a Prince, breede a reuerence of his base wickednesse. If hee haue not broken all lawes of hospitalitie, and broken them in the most detestable degree that can be, let his being a guest, be a sacred protection of his more then sauage doings: or if his whorish beawtye, haue not bene as the hye waye of his wickednesse, let the picture drawne vppon so poysonous a wood, be reserued to shewe howe greatly coulours can please vs. But if it is as it is, what should I saye more, a very spirit of hellish naughtines, if his acte be to be punished, and his defiled person not to be pittied, then restore vnto vs our Prince, by duly punishing his murderers, for then wee shall thinke him and his name to liue, when wee shall see his killers to dye. Restore to the excellent Philoclea her honour, by taking out of the world her dishonour, and thinke that at this daye, in this matter are the eyes of the worlde vppon you, whether any thing can sway your minde from a true administracion of iustice. Alas though I haue much more to saye, I can saye no more, for my teares and sighes interrupt my speeche, and force me to geue my selfe ouer to my priuate sorrowe. Thus when Philanax had vttered the vttermost of his mallice, he made sorrowe the cause of his conclusion. But while Philanax was in the course of his speeche, and did with such bitter reproches defame the princely Pyrocles, it was well to be seene, his heart was vnused to beare such iniuries, and his thoughtes such, as could arme themselues better against any thing then shame. For sometimes blushing, his bloud with diuers motions comming and going, sometimes cloasing his eyes, and laying his hande ouer them, sometime geuing such a looke to Philanax, as might shewe hee assured himselfe, hee durst not so haue spoken if they had bene in indifferent place: with some impaciencie he bare the length of his Oration: which being ended, with as much modest humblenes to the Iudge, as despitefull skorne to the accuser, with words to this purpose, he defended his honour.
My accusors tale, may well beare witnes with me, most rightfull Iudge, in how hard a case, and inuironed with how many troubles, I may esteeme my selfe. For if hee, who shewes his toong, is not vnaquainted with rayling, was in an agonye in the beginning of his speech, with the multitude of matters he had to lay vnto me, wherein notwithstanding the most euill could fall vnto him, was, that hee should not do so much euill as hee would; howe combred do you thinke may I acknowledge my selfe, who in things no lesse importing then my life, must be mine owne aduocate, without leasure to aunswere, or foreknowledge what shoulde be obiected? in things I say promoted with so cunning a confusion, as hauing mingled truthes with falsehoodes, surmises with certaintyes, causes of no moment with matters cappitall, scolding with complayning, I can absolute neyther graunt nor denye, neyther can I tell, whether I come hether to be iudged, or before iudgement to be punished, being compelled to beare such vnworthye woordes, farre more grieuous then any death vnto me. But since the forme of this gouernment, allowes such toong libertye vnto him, I will picke aswell as I can out of his inuectiue those fewe poyntes, whiche may seeme of some purpose in the touching of mee,
hoping that by your easye hearing of me, you will shewe, that though you hate euill, yet you wishe men may proue themselues not euill; so in that hee hath sayde, you will not waye so much what hee hath sayde, as what hee hath proued, remembring, that truth is simple and naked, and that if hee had guided himselfe vnder that banner, hee needed not out of the way haue sought so vilde and false disgracings of mee, enough to make the vntruest accusation beleeued. I will therefore, vsing truth as my best eloquence, repeate vnto you as much as I knowe in this matter, and then by the only cleerenes of the discourse, your wisedome I knowe will finde, the difference betwixt cauilling supposition, and directe declaration. This Prince Palladius and I, being enflamed with loue, (a passion farre more easely reprehended, then refrayned) to the two peerelesse daughters of Basilius, and vnderstanding, howe hee had secluded himselfe from the worlde, that like Princes, there was no accesse vnto him, wee disguised our selues, in such formes, as might soonest bring vs to the reuealing of our affections. The Prince Palladius, had such euent of his doings, that with Pamelas consent hee was to conuey her out of the thraldome she liued in, to receaue the subiection of a greater people then her owne, vntill her fathers consent might be obteyned. My fortune was more hard, for I bare no more loue to the chaste Philoclea, then Basilius deceaued in my sexe, shewed to me, insomuch that by his importunacy, I could haue no time to obtayne the like fauour of the pure Philoclea: till this pollicye I founde, taking, vnder cullour of some deuotions, my lodging, to drawe Basilius thether, with hope to enioye me, which likewise I reuealed to the Queene, that she might keepe my place, and so make her husband see his error. While I in the meane time, being deliuered of them both, and hauing lockt so the dores, as I hoped if the immaculate Philoclea would condescend to goe with me, there should be none to hinder our going. I was made prisoner there, I knowe not by what meanes when being repelled by her deuine vertue, I would faynest haue escaped. Heere haue you the thread to guide you in the Labyrinth, this man of his toong, had made so monstrous. Heere see you the true discourse, which hee mountbanke fashion, doth make so wide a mouth ouer. Heere may you conceaue the reason, why the Queene had my garment, because in her going to the caue, in the Moone-shine night, she might be taken for me, which he vseth as the knot of all his wise assertions: so that as this double minded fellowes accusation was double, double likewise my aunswere must perforce be, to the murder of Basilius, and violence offred to the inuiolate Philoclea. For the fyrst, O heauenly gods, who would haue thought any mouth could haue bene founde so mercenary, as to haue opened so slight proofes of so horrible matters? his fyrst Argument is a question who would imagine that Ginecia would accomplish such an Acte, without some accessaries? and if any, who but I? truly I, and so farre from imagining any thing, that till I sawe these mourning tokens, and heard Ginecias confession, I neuer imagined the King was dead. And for my part so vehemently, and more like the manner of passionate, then giltie folkes, I see, the Queene persecute her selfe, that I thinke condemnation may goe too hastely ouer her, considering the vnlikelyhood, if not impossibilitie, her wisedome, and vertue so long nourished, should in one moment throw downe it selfe, to the vttermost ende of wickednes. But whatsoeuer she hath done (which as I say,
I neuer beleeued) yet how vniustly should that aggrauate my fault. She founde abroade I within dores (for as for the wearing my garment I haue tolde you the cause) she seeking as you saye to escape, I locking my selfe in a house: without perchaunce the conspiracie of one poore straunger, might greatly enable her attempt, or the fortification of the Lodge (as the trimme man alleadged) might make me hope to resist all Arcadia. And see how treacherously he seekes to drawe from me, my chiefest cleering, by preuenting the credit of her words, wherewith she had wholie taken the fault vpon her selfe. A honest and vnpartiall examiner, her words may condemne her, but may not absolue me. Thus voide of all probable allegacion, the crauen crowes vppon my affliction, not leauing out any euill, that euer he hath felt in his owne soule, to charge my youth withall. But who can looke for a sweeter breath out of such a stomacke? or for honny from so filthye a Spyder? What should I say more? if, in so inhumane a matter, which he himselfe confesseth, sincerest iudgements are lothest to beleeue, and in the seuerest lawes proofes clerer then the Sunne are required, his reasons are only the skumme of a base malice, my answeres most manifest, shining in their owne truth, there remayne any doubt of it, because it stands betwixt his affirming and my denyall, I offer, nay I desire, and humblie desire I may be graunted the tryall by combat, wherein let him be armed and me in my shirt, I doubt not Iustice will be my shield, and his hart will shew it selfe as faint as it is false.
Now come I to the second part of my offence, towards the young Lady, which howsoeuer you tearme it, so farre forth as I haue tolde you, I confesse, and for her sake hartely lament. But if herein I offred force to her, loue offred more force to me. Let her beawtie be compared to my yeares, and such effectes will be found no miracles. But since it is thus as it is, and that iustice teacheth vs not to loue punishment, but to flye to it for necessitye: the salue of her honour (I meane as the world will take it, for else in truth it is most vntouched) must be my marriage, and not my death, since the one shops all mouthes, the other becommes a doubtfull fable. This matter requires no more words, and your experience I hope in these cases shall neede no more, for my selfe me thinkes I haue shewed already, too much loue of my life to bestowe so many. But certainely, it hath bene loue of truth, which could not beare so vnworthy falsehood, and loue of iustice, that would brooke no wrong to my selfe nor other, and makes me now, euen in that respect to desire you, to be moued rather with pittie at a iust cause of teares, then with the bloudy teares this Crocodile spends, who weepes to procure death, and not to lament death. It will be no honour to Basilius tombe, to haue guiltlesse bloud sprinckled vpon it, and much more may a Iudge ouerway himselfe in crueltie, then in clemencie. It is hard, but it is excellent, where it is found, a right knowledge, when correction is necessary, when grace doth more auaile. For my owne respect, if I thought in wisedome I had deserued death, I would not desire life: for I knowe nature will condemne me to dye, though you do not; and longer I would not wish to drawe this breath, then I may keepe my selfe vnspotted of any horrible crime; only I cannot nor euer will denye, the loue of Philoclea, whose violence wrought violent effects in me: with that he finished his speeche, casting vp his eyes to the Iudge, and crossing his hands, which he held in their length before him, declaring a resolute pacience in whatsoeuer should be done with him. Philanax like a watchfull aduersary curiously marked all that he saide, sauing that
in the beginning he was interrupted by two Letters were brought him from the Princesse Pamela, and the Lady Philoclea: who hauing all that night considered and bewayled their estate, carefull for their mother likewise, of whome they could neuer thinke so much euill, but considering with themselues that she assuredly should haue so due tryall by the lawes, as eyther she should not neede their helpe, or should be past their helpe, They looked to that which neerelyest touched them, and each wrate in this sort for him in whome their liues ioy consisted.
The humble harted Philoclea wrate much after this manner.
MY Lords, what you will determine of me, is to me vncertayne, but what I haue determined of my selfe I am most certaine, which is no longer to enioy my life, then I may enioy him for my husband, whom the heauens for my hyest glory, haue bestowed vpon me. Those that iudge him, let them execute me. Let my throate satisfye their hunger of murder. For alas what hath he done, that had not his originall in me? Looke vppon him I beseech you with indifferency, and see whether in those eyes all vertue shines not. See whether that face could hide a murder. Take leasure to knowe him, and then your selues will say, it hath bene too great an inhumanitie, to suspect such excellency. Are the gods thinke you deceaued in their workemanship? Artificers will not vse marble but to noble vses. Should those powers be so ouershot, as to frame so precious an Image of their owne, but to honorable purposes? O speake with him, ô heare him, ô knowe him, and become not the putters out of the worlds light. Hope you to ioy my fathers soule with hurting him he loued aboue all the world? Shall a wrong suspicion make you forget the certaine knowledge of those benefits, this house hath receiued by him? Alas alas, let not Arcadia for his losse, be accurssed of the whole earth and of all posteritie. He is a great Prince, I speake vnto you that which I knowe, for I haue seene most euident testimonies. Why should you hinder my aduancement? who if I haue past my childhood hurtlesse to any of you, if I haue refused no body to do what good I could, if I haue often mitigated my fathers anger, euer sought to maintayne his fauour towards you, nay if I haue held you all as fathers and brothers vnto me, rob me not of more then my life commes vnto. Teare not that which is inseparably ioyned to my soule; but if he rest misliked of you, (which ô God, how can it be) yet geue him to me, let me haue him, you knowe I pretend no right to your state. Therefore is it but a priuate petition I make vnto you. Or if you be hard hartedly bent, to appoint otherwise (which oh sooner let me dye, then knowe) then to ende as I began, let me by you be ordered to the same ende: without for more crueltie you meane to force Philoclea to vse her owne hands to kill one of your Kings children.
Pamelas Letter (which she meant to send to the generall assemblie of the Arcadian Nobilitie,) (for so closely they were kept, as they were vtterly ignorant of the newe taken orders) was thus framed.
IN such a state my Lords you haue placed me, as I can neither write nor be silent; for how can I be silent, since you haue left me nothing but my solitary words to testifie my miserie? and how should I write (for as for speech I haue none but my Iaylor, that can heare me) who neither can resolue what to write, nor to whom
to write? What to write is as hard for me to saye, as what I may not write, so little hope haue I of any successe, and so much hath no iniury bene left vndone to mewards. To whom to write, where may I learne, since yet I wot not how to entitle you? Shall I call you my Souereignes? set downe your lawes that I may do you homage. Shall I fall lower, and name you my fellowes? shew me I beseech you the Lord and mayster ouer vs. But shall Basilius heyre, name her selfe your Princesse? Alas I am your prisoner. But whatsoeuer I be, or whatsoeuer you be, ô all you beholders of these dolefull lines, this do I signifye vnto you, and signifye it with a hart, that shall euer remayne in that opinion. The good or euill you do to the excellent Prince was taken with me, and after by force from me, I will euer impute it as eyther way done to mine owne person. He is a Prince and worthie to be my husband, and so is he my husband by me worthely chosen. Beleeue it, beleeue it, eyther you shall be traytors for murdering of me, or if you let me liue, the murderers of him shall smart as traytors. For what do you thinke I can thinke? Am I so childish, as not to see, wherein you touch him you condemne me? Can his shame be without my reproach? no nor shall be, since nothing he hath done, that I will not auowe. Is this the comfort you bring me in my fathers death, to make me fuller of shame then sorrowe? would you do this, if it were not with full intention to preuent my power, with slaughter? And so do I pray you, it is hye time for me, to be weary of my life too long ledd, since you are weery of me, before you haue me? I say againe, I say it infinitely vnto you, I will not liue without him, if it be not to reuenge him: eyther do iustly in sauing both, or wisely in killing both. If I be your Princesse, I commaund his preseruation; if but a priuate person, then are we both to suffer. I take all truth to witnes he hath done no faulte but in going with me. Therefore to conclude, in iudging him you iudge me, neither conceaue with your selues, the matter you treate, is the life of a stranger, though euen in that name he deserued pittie, nor of a shepheard, to which estate loue of me made such a Prince descend, but determined most assuredly, the life that is in question is of Pamela, Basilius daughter.
Many blots, had the teares of the sweet Ladyes made in their letters, which many times they had altred, many times torne, and written anewe, euer thinking some thing eyther wanted, or were too much, or would offende, or which was worst, would breede denyall: but at last, the day warned them to dispatch, which they accordingly did, and calling one of their guard (for no body else was suffred to come neere them) with great entreaty, they requested him, that hee woulde present them, to the principall Noblemen and Gentlemen together. For they had more confidence in the numbers fauour, then in any one, vppon whome they would not laye the liues they helde so precious. But the fellowe trustie to Philanax, who had placed him there, deliuered them both to him, (what time Pyrocles
began to speake) which he sodaynly opened, and seeing to what they tended, by the first wordes, was so farre from publishing them (whereby he feared in Euarchus iust minde, eyther the Princesses might be endaungered, or the prisoners preserued, of which choyse he knewe not which to thinke the worst) that hee would not himselfe reede them ouer, doubting his owne hart might be mollified, so bent vpon reuenge. Therefore vtterly suppressing them, he lent a spitefull eare to Pirocles, and assoone as he had ended, with a very willing hart desired Euarchus
he might accept the combat: although it woulde haue framed but euill with him, Pyrocles hauing neuer founde any match neere him, besides Musidorus. But Euarchus made aunswere, since bodyly strength is but a seruant to the minde, it were very barbarous and preposterous, that force shoulde bee made iudge ouer reason. Then woulde hee also haue replied in wordes vnto him, but Euarchus who knewe what they coulde saye, was already saide, taking their arguments into his minde, cammaunded him to proceede against the other prisoner, and that then he woulde sentence them both together. Philanax nothing the milder for Pyrocles purging himselfe, but rather (according to the nature of arguing, especially when it is bitter) so much the more vehement entred thus into his speech against Musidorus, being so ouergone with rage that hee forgate in this oration his precise methode of oratory. Behold most noble protector, to what a state Arcadia is come, since such manner of men, may challenge in combat the faithfullest of the nobilitie, and hauing merited the shamefullest of all deathes, dare name in marriage the Princesses of this cuntrie. Certainely my masters, I must saye, you were much out of taste, if you had not rather enioy such Ladies, then be hangd. But the one you haue as much deserued, as you haue dishonoured the other. But now my speech must be directed to you good master Dorus, who with Pallas helpe pardie, are lately growne Palladius. Too much this sacred seate of iustice, grauntes vnto such a fugitiue bondslaue who in steede of these examinations, shoulde be made confesse, with a whippe, that which a halter shoulde punish. Are not you he Sir, whose sheepehooke was prepared to be our Scepter? In whom lay the knot of all this tradgedy? or els perchaunce, they that shoulde gaine little by it were dealers in the murder, you onely that had prouided the fruites for your selfe, knewe nothing of it, knewe nothinge: hath thy companiō here infected thee with such impudency as euen in the face of the world to deny that which al the world perceaueth? The other pleades ignorance, and you I doubt not will alleage absence. But he was ignoraunt, when he was hard by, and you had framed your absence, iust againe the time the acte shoulde bee committed, so fit a liuetenante he knew he had lefte of his wickednes, that for himselfe his safest meane, was to conuey away the Lady of vs all, who once out of the contrie, he knew wee woulde come with oliue branches of intercession vnto her, and fall at his feete to beseech him to leaue keeping of sheepe, and vouchesafe the tirannising ouer vs, for to think they are Princes, as they say (although in our lawes it behooues them nothing) I see at all no reason. These iewells certainly with their disguisinge sleightes, they haue pilfred in their vagabonding race. And think you such Princes should be so long without some followers after them? Truely if they be Princes, it manifestly shewes their vertues such, as all their subiectes are glad to be rid of them. But be they as they are, for we are to consider the matter, and not the men. Basilius murder hath beene the cause of their comming, Basilius murder, they haue most trecherously brought to passe; yet that I doubte not, you will denie as well as your fellowe. But howe will you denie the stealinge awaie the Princesse of this Prouince, which is no lesse then treason? So notably hath the iustice of the gods prouided, for the punishing of these malefactors, as if it were possible, men would not beleue the certaine euidences of their principall mischiefe, yet haue they discouered them selues sufficiently for their most iust ouerthrowe. I saye therefore (to omit my cheefe matter of the Kings death) This wooluish sheepheard, this counterfeite Prince,
hath trayterously contrary to his alleageaunce (hauing made himselfe a seruant and subiecte) attempted the depriuing this contry of our naturall Princesse: and therefore by all right must receaue the punishment of traytors. This matter is so assured as he himselfe will not deny it, being taken and brought backe in the fact. This matter is so odious in nature, so shamefull to the worlde, so contrarye to all lawes, so hurtefull to vs, so false in him, as if I should stande further in declaring or defacing it, I shoulde either shewe great doubts in your wisedome, or in your iustice. Therefore I will transferre my care vpon you, and attend to my learning and comfort, the eternall example you will leaue to al mankinde of disguisers, falsefiers, adulterers, rauishers, murderers, and traytors. Musidorus while Philanax was speaking against his cosin and him, had looked rounde about him, to see whether by any meanes hee might come to haue caught him in his armes, and haue killed him; so much had his disgracing wordes filled his breste with rage. But perceauing himselfe so guarded as hee shoulde rather showe a passionate acte, then performe his reuenge, his hande trembling with desire to strike, and all the vaines in his face swelling; casting his eyes ouer the iudgement seate. O Gods saide hee, and haue you spared my life to beare these iniuries of such a driule? Is this the iustice of this place, to haue such men as we are, submitted not onely to apparent falsehood, but most shameful reuiling? But marke I pray you the vngratefulnes of the wretch, how vtterly hee hath forgotten, the benefits both he and all this contry hath receaued of vs. For if euer men may remember their owne noble deedes, it is then when their iuste defence, and other vniust vnkindenes doth require it. I omit our seruices done to Basilius in the late warre with Amphialus importing no lesse then his daughters liues, and his states preseruation: were not we the men that killed the wilde beastes which otherwise had killed the Princesses, if wee had not succourd them? Consider if it please you, where had bene Daiphantus rape, or my treason, if the sweete beauties of the earth, had then bene deuoured? Either thinke them nowe dead, or remember they liue by vs. And yet full often this telltale can acknowledge the losse they shoulde haue by their taking away, while maliciously he ouer passeth who were their preseruers, neither let this be spoken of mee, as if I ment to ballance this euill with that good, for I must confesse, that sauing of such creatures was rewarded in the acte it selfe: but onely to manifest the partial iangling of this vile pickthanke. But if we be the traytors, where was your fidelitie, O onely tonge-valliant Gentleman, when not onely the yonge Princesse, but the King himselfe was defended from vttermost perill, partely by me but principally by this excellent yonge mans both wisdome and valure? Were wee that made our selues against hundreds of armed men, openly the shieldes of his life, like secretly to bee his impoysoners? Did wee then shewe his life to bee dearer to vs then our owne, because wee might after robbe him of his life, to dye shamefully? Truely truely master orator, whosoeuer hath hired you to be so busie in their matters, who keepe honester seruauntes then your selfe, hee shoulde haue bid you in so manie raylings, bring some excuse for your selfe, why in the greatest neede of your Prince, to whome you pretend a miraculous good will, you were not then as forewarde to do like a man your selfe, or at leaste to accuse them that were slacke in that seruice, but commonlye the vse their feete for there defence whose tounge is their weapon. Certaynelye a verye simple subtiltie it had beene in vs, to
repose our liues in the daughters, when we had killed the father. But as this Gentleman thinkes to winne the reputation of a copious talker by leauing nothing vnsaide which a filthy minde can imagine, so thinke I (or els all wordes are vaine) that to wise mens iudgement, our cleerenes in the Kings death is sufficiently notorious. But at length when the marchaunt hath set out his guilded baggage, lastly he comes to some stuffe of importance, and saith I conueied away the Princesse of this contrie. And is she indeede your Princesse? I pray you then whom should I waite of els, but her that was my mistres by my professed vow, & Princesse ouer me while I liued in this soile? Aske her why she went; aske not me why I serued her. Since accounting me as a Prince, you haue not to do with me, taking me as her seruant, then take withall that I must obay her. But you will say I perswaded her to flie awaye, certainely I will for no death deny it, knowing to what honour I shoulde bring her from the thraldome by such fellowes councell as you, shee was kept in. Shall perswasion to a Prince growe treason to a Prince? It might be error in me but falsehoode it coulde not be, since I made my selfe partaker of whatsoeuer I wished her vnto, who will euer counsaill his King, if his counsaill be iudged by the euent, and if it be not found wise, shall therefore be thought wicked? But if I be a traytor, I hope you will graunt me a correlatiue, to whom I shall be the traytor. For the Princesse against whom the treasons are considered, I am sure will avowe my faithfulnes, without you will saye that I am a traytor to her, because I left the contrie: and a traytor to the contrie, because I went with her. Heere do I leaue out my iust excuses of loues force, which as thy narrow hart hath neuer had noble roome inough in it to receaue, so yet to those manlike courages, that by experience know how subiect the vertuous mindes are to loue a most vertuous creature, (witnessed to be such by the most excellent guiftes of nature) will deeme it a veniall trespasse, to seeke the satisfaction of honourable desires. Honourable euen in the curiousest pointes of honour, whereout there can no disgrace nor disperagement come vnto her. Therfore O iudge, who I hope doest know what it is to be a iudge, that your ende is to preserue, and not to destroy mankinde, that lawes are not made like limetwigges, or nets, to catch euery thing that toucheth them, but rather like sea markes to auoide the shipwracke of ignoraunt passingers, since that our doinge in the extremest interpretation is but a humaine error, and that of it you may make a proffitable euent (we being of such estate, as their parents would not haue misliked the affinitie) you will not I trust at the perswasion of this brabler, burne your house to make it cleane, but like a wise father, turne euen the fault of your children to any good that may come of it: since that is the fruite of wisdome, and ende of all iudgements. While this matter was thus handling, a silent and as it were astonished attention, possest all the people. A kindely compssion moued the noble Gentleman Simpathus, but as for Kalander, euery thing was spoken either by or for his own deere guestes, moued an affect in him: somtimes teares, sometimes hopefull lookes, sometimes whispering perswasions in their eares, that stoode by him, to seeke the sauing the two yong Princes. But the generall multitude wayted the iudgemēt of Euarchus, who shewed in his face no motions, either at the ones or other speeche, letting passe the flowers of rhetoricke, and onely marking whether their reasons tended, hauing made the question to be asked of Gynecia, who continued to take the whole faulte vpon her selfe, and hauing caused Damaetas, with Miso and Mopsa (who by Philanax order had bene helde in most cruell prison) to make a full declaration, howe much they knewe of these passed matters, and then
gathering as assured satisfaction to his owne minde as in that case he could; not needing to take leasure for that, whereof a long practise had bred a well grounded habit in him, with a voice of gesture directed to the vniuersall assemblie, in this forme pronounced sentence. This weightie matter, wherof presently we are to determine, doth at the first consideration yeeld two important doubtes. The first whether these men be to be iudged. The second how they are to be iudged. The first doubt ariseth because they geue themselues out for Princes absolute, a sacred name, and to which any violence semes to be an impietie. For how can any lawes, which are the bonds of all humane societie be obserued if the lawe giuers, and lawe rulers, bee not helde in an vntouched admiration? But heereto although alredy they haue beene sufficiently aunswered, yet thus much againe I will repeate vnto you. That what soeuer they be or be not, heere they be no Princes, since betwixt Prince and subiect there is as necessarie a relation, as betweene father and sonne, and as there is no man a father, but to his childe, so is not a Prince, a Prince but to his owne subiects. Therefore is not this place to acknowledge in them any principallitie, without it should at the same time, by a secreate consent confesse subiection. Yet hereto may be obiected, that the vniuersall ciuillitie, the lawe of nations (all mankinde being as it were coinhabitors or worlde-citizens together) hath euer required publicke persons, shoulde be of all parties especially regarded since not onely in peace, but in warre, not only Princes, but herauldes and trumpets, are with great reason exempted from iniuryes. This pointe is true, but yet so true, as they that will receaue the benefit of a custome, must not be the first to breake it. For then can they not complaine, if they be not helpt by that which they themselues hurte. Yf a Prince do actes of hostilitie, without denouncing warre, if he breake his oath of amitie, or innumerable such other thinges contrary to the lawe of armes, he must take heede how he fall into their hands whom he so wrongeth, for then is courtesie the best custome he can claime, much more these men, who haue not onely lefte to doe like Princes, but to be like Princes, not onely entred into Arcadia, and so into the Arcadian orders, but into domesticall seruices, and so by making them selues priuate, depriued themselues of respecte due to their publicke calling. For no proportion it were of iustice, that a man might make himselfe no Prince when he woulde doe euill, and might a newe create himselfe a Prince, when he would not suffer euill. Thus therefore by al lawes of nature and nations, and especially by their owne putting themselues out of the sanctuary of them, these yong men can not in iustice auoide the iudgement: but like priuate men, must haue their doinges either cleared, excused, or condemned. There resteth then the second point, howe to iudge well. And that must vndoubtedly bee done, not by a free discourse of reason, and skill of philosophy: but must be tied to the lawes of Greece, and municipall statutes of this kingedome. For although out of them, these came, and to them muste indeede referre their offspringe, yet because philosophicall discourses, stande in the generall consideration of thinges, they leaue to euery man a scope of his owne interpretation. Where the lawes applyinge them selues to the necessary vse, folde vs within assured boundes, which once broken mās nature infinitly rāgeth. Iudged therfore they must be, & by your lawes iudged. Nowe the action offereth it selfe to dewe ballance, betwixte the accusers two-folde accusation, and their aunsweare accordingly applied. The questions beeinge the one of a facte simplie, the other of the quallity of a fact. To the first vse direct deniall, to the second quallification and excuse. They deny the murder of the king;
& mightie against presumptiōs bring forth some probable answers, which they do principally fortefie with the Queenes acknowledging her selfe only culpable. Certainely as in equallitie of coniectures, we are not to take holde of the worse, but rather to be glad we may finde any hope that mankind is not growen monstrous, (being vndoubtedly lesse euill a guiltie man shoulde escape, then a guiltlesse perish) so if in the rest they be spotlesse, then is no farther to be remembred. But if they haue aggrauated these suspitions, with newe euills then are those suspitions so farre to showe themselues, as to cause the other pointes to be thorowly examined, and with lesse fauour wayed since this no man can deny they haue beene accidentall, if not principall causes of the Kinges death. Now then we are to determine of the other matters, which are laide to them, wherein they doe not deny the facte, but deny or at leaste diminish the faulte, but first I may remember (though it were not first alleaged by them) the seruices they had before done, truely honourable and worthy of greate rewarde, but not worthy to counteruaile with a following wickednes. Rewarde is proper to well doing, punishment to euill doing, which must bee confounded, no more then good and euill are to be mingled. Therefore hath bene determined in all wisedomes, that no man because he hath done well before, should haue his present euils spared, but rather so much the more punished, as hauing shewed he knew how to be good, woulde against his knowledge bee naught. The facte then is nakedly without passion, or partialitie to bee viewed: wherein without all question they are equallie culpable. For though he that termes himselfe Daiphantus were sooner disapointed of his purpose of conueying away the Lady Philoclea, then he that perswaded the Princesse Pamela to flie her countrie, and accompanied her in it: yet seing in causes of this nature, the wil by the rules of iustice standeth for the deed, they are both alike to bee founde guiltie, and guiltie of hainous rauishment. For though they rauished them not from themselues, yet they rauished them from him that owed them, which was their father. An acte punished by all the Graecian lawes, by the losse of the head, as a most execrable thefte. For if they must dye, who steale from vs our goodes, how much more they, who steale from vs that, for which we gather our goodes, and if our lawes haue it so in the priuate persons, much more forcible are they to bee in Princes children, where one steales as it were the whole state, and well being of that people, being tyed by the secret of a long vse, to be gouerned by none but the next of that bloud. Neither let any man maruaile, our ancestours haue bene so seuere in these cases, since the example of the Phenician Europa
but especially of the Grecian Helene, hath taught them, what destroying fires haue growen of such sparckles. And although Helene was a wife, and this but a child, that booteth not since the principall cause of marrying wiues is, that we may haue children of our owne. But now let vs see how these yong men (truely for their persons worthy of pittie, if they haue rightly pittied themselues) do goe about to mittigate the vehemencie of their errors. Some of their excuses are common to both, some peculiar onely to him that was the sheepeheard. Both remember the force of loue, and as it were the mending vp of the matter by their marriage, if that vnbrideled desire which is intituled loue, might purge such a sickenes as this, surely wee shoulde haue, many louing excuses of hatefull mischiefe. Nay rather no mischiefe shoulde be committed, that should not be vailed vnder the name of loue. For as well he that steales, might alleage the loue of mony, he that murders the loue of reuenge, he that rebells the loue of greatnesse, as the adulterer the loue of a woman. Since they do in
all speeches affirme they loue that, which an ill gouerned passion maketh them to follow. But loue may haue no such priuiledge. That sweete and heauenly vniting of the mindes, which properly is called loue, hath no other knot but vertue, and therefore if it be a right loue, it can neuer slide into any action that is not vertuous. The other and indeed more effectuall reason is that they may be married vnto them and so honourably redresse the dishonour of them, whom this matter seemeth most to touch. Surely if the question were, what were conuenient for the parties, and not what is iuste in the neuer changing iustice, there might much bee saide in it. But herein we must consider, that the lawes look how to preuent by due examples, that such thinges be not done: and not how to salue such things, when they are doone. For if the gouernors of iustice, shall take such a scope, as to measure the foote of the lawe, by a show of conueniencie, and measure that conueniencie not by the publike societie, but by that which is fittest for them which offende: young men, stronge men, and rich men, shall euer finde priuate conueniences, howe to palliate such committed disorders, as to the publike shall not onely bee inconuenient but pestilent. The marriage perchaunce might be fit for them, but verie vnfit were it to the state, to allowe a patterne of such procurations of marriage. And thus much doe they both alleage. Further goes he that went with the Princesse Pamela, & requireth the benefit of a councellor, who hath place of free perswasion; and the reasonable excuse of a seruant, that did but waite of his mistres. Without all question, as councellors haue great cause to take heede how they aduise any thing, directly opposite to the forme of that present gouernement, especially when they doe it singly without publike alowaunce, so yet is the case much more apparant: since neither she was an effectuall Princesse, her father being then aliue, & though he had bene deade, she not come to the yeares of aucthoritie, nor hee her seruant, in such manner to obey her, but by his owne preferment first belonging to Dametas, and then to the Kinge, and therefore if not by Arcadia lawes, yet by housholde orders, bounde to haue done nothing without his agreement. Thus therefore since the deedes accomplished by these two, are both abhominable and inexcuseable. I doe in the behalfe of iustice, & by the force of Arcadia lawes pronounce, that Daiphantus shalbe throwne out of a hie tower to receaue his death by his fall. Palladius shall bee behedded the time before the sunne set: the place in Mantinea: the executioner Dametas: which office he shall execute all the dayes of his life, for his beastly forgetting the carefull dutie he owed to his charge. This saide he turned himselfe to Philanax, and two of the other noble men, commaunding them to see the iudgement presently performed.
Phil
•
nax more greedie then any hunter of his praye, went straite to laye holde of the excellent prisoners, who casting a farewell looke one vpon the other, represented in their faces asmuch vnappalled constancie, as the most excellent courage can deliuer, in outward graces. Yet if at all there were any shewe of change in them, it was that Pyrocles was somthing neerer to bashfulnes, and Musidorus to anger; both ouer ruled by reason and resolution. But as with great number of armed men, Philanax was descending vnto them, and that Musidorus was beginning to saye something in Pyrocles behalfe. Beholde Kalander, that with armes caste abroade, and open mouth came crying to Euarchus, holding a stranger in his hād that cried much more then he, desiring they might be heard speake before the prisoners were remoued. Euen the noble Gentleman Simpathus ayded them in it, and taking such as hee coulde commaund, stopped Philanax betwixt entreatie and force, from carrying away
the Princes, vntill it were heard what new matters these men did bring. So againe mounting to the Tribunall, they hearkened to the straungers vehement speach, or rather appassionate exclayming. It was in deede Kalodulus, the faithfull seruaunt of Musidorus, to whome his maister, when in despite of his best grounded determinations he first became a slaue to affection, had sent the sheaphearde Menalcas to be arrested: by the helpe of whose rayment in the meane time he aduaunced himselfe to that estate, which he accompted most high, because it might be seruiceable to that fancy, which he had placed most high in his minde. For Menalcas hauing faithfully performed his errand, was as faithfully imprisoned by Kalodulus.
But as Kalodulus perfourmed the first part of his duety in doing the commaundement of his Prince: so was he with abundance of sincere loyalty extremely perplexed, when he vnderstood of Menalcas the straunge disguising of his beloued Maister. For as the actes he and his Cosen Pyrocles had done in Asia, had filled all the eares of the Thessalians and Macedonians with no lesse ioy then admiration: so was the feare of their losse no lesse grieuous vnto them, when by the noise of report they vnderstood of theyr lonely committing themselues to the Sea, the issue of which they had no way learned. But now that by Menalcas hee perceyued where he was, gessing the like of Pyrocles, comparing the vnusednes of this act with the vnripenesse of theyr age, seeing in generall coniecture they could doe it for nothing, that might not fall out dangerous: he was somewhile troubled with himselfe, what to doe, betwixt doubt of theyr hurt, and doubt of theyr displeasure. Often he was minded (as his safest and honestest way) to reueale it to the king Euarchus: that both his authority might preuent any domage to them, and vnder his winges he himselfe might remaine safe. But considering a iourney to Byzantium
(where as yet he supposed Euarchus lay) would require more time, then hee was willing to remaine doubtfull of his Princes estate, he resolued at length to write the matter to Euarchus, and himselfe the while to goe into Arcadia: vncertayne what to doe when he came thither, but determined to doe his best seruice to hys deare Maister, if by any good fortune he might finde him. And so it happened that being euen this day come to Mantinea, and as warely and attentiuely as he coulde giuing eare to al reports, in hope to hear some thing of them he sought, he straight receyued a straunge rumor of these thinges: but so vncertainely as popular reports cary so rare accidents. But this by all men he was willed, to seek out Kalander a great Gentleman of that Countrey, who would soonest satisfie him of all these occurrents. Thus enstructed he came euen about the midst of Euarchus iudgement to the desert. Where seeing great multitudes, and hearing vnknowen names of Palladius, and Daiphantus, and not able to presse to the place where Euarchus sate, he enquired for Kalander, and was soone brought vnto him: partly because he was generallye knowen vnto all men, and partly because he had withdrawen himselfe from the presse, when he perceiued by Euarchus words whether they tended, being not able to endure his guests condemnation. Hee enquired forthwith of Kalander the cause of the assembly: and whither the fame were true of Euarchus presence: who with manye teares, made a dolefull recitall vnto him, both of the Amazon and sheepheard, setting forth their naturall graces, and lamenting their pittifull vndoing. But his description made Kalodulus immediatly knowe the sheepheard was his Duke, and so iudging the other to be Pyrocles, and speedely communicating it to Kalander, who he saw did fauour their case, they brake the presse with astonishing
euery man with their cryes. And being come to Euarchus, Kalodulus fell at his feete telling him those he had iudged were his owne Sunne and Nephewe; the one the comforte of Macedon, the other the onely stay of Thessalia. With many such like words, but as from a man that assured himselfe in that matter he shoulde neede smal speeche. While Kalander made it knowen to all men, what the prisoners were to whom he cried they should salute their father, and ioy in the good hap the gods had sent them; who were no lesse glad, then all the people amazed at the strange euent of these matters. Euen Philanax owne reuengefull hart was mollified, when he saw from diuerse partes of the world so neere kinsemen should meete in such a necessitie. And with all the fame of Pyrocles and Musidorus, greatly drewe him to a compassionate conceite, and had already vncloathed his face of all shew of mallice. But Euarchus staide a good while vpon himselfe, like a valliant man that should receaue a notable encounter, being vehemently stricken with the fatherly loue of so excellent children, and studying with his best reason, what his office required. At length with such a kind of grauitie, as was neere to sorrow, he thus vttred his mind. I take witnes of the immortall gods (saide he) O Arcadians, that what this daye I haue saide, hath be
•
e out of my assured perswasion, what iustice it selfe and your iuste lawes require. Though straungers then to me, I had no desire to hurt them, but leauing a side all considerations of the persons, I wayed the matter which you committed into my hands, with most vnpartiall and farthest reach of reason. And thereout haue condemned them to loose their liues, contaminated with so manye foule breaches of hospitalitie, ciuilitie and vertue. Now contrarye to all expectations, I finde them to be my onely sonne and Nephew, such vpon whom you see, what guiftes nature hath bestowed. Such who haue so to the wonder of the worlde heretofore behaued themselues, as might geue iuste cause to the greatest hopes, that in an excellent youth may be conceaued. Lastly in fewe wordes such, in whome I placed all my mortall ioyes, and thought my selfe now neere my graue, to recouer a newe life. But alas shall iustice halte? Or shall she winke in ones cause which had Lynces eyes in anothers? Or rather shall all priuate respectes geue place to that holy name? Bee it so, bee it so, let my graye heares bee layde in the dust with sorrow, let the small remnant of my life, bee to mean inward and outward desolation, and to the world a gazing stock of wretched misery: But neuer neuer, let sacred rightfulnes fall. It is immortal and immortally ought to be preserued. If rightly I haue iudged, then rightly I haue iudged myne own children. Vnlesse the name of a child, should haue force to change the neuer changing iustice. No no Pyrocles & Musidorus I prefer you much before my life, but I prefer Iustice as far before you, while you did like your selues, my body should willingly haue ben your shield, but I cannot keep you from the effects of your own doing. Nay I cānot in this case acknowledge you for mine. For neuer had I sheapheard to my nephew, nor euer had woman to my son, your vices haue degraded you frō being princes, & haue disanulde your birthright.
Therefore if there be anie thing left in you, of Princely vertue, shew it in constant suffering, that your vnprincely dealing hath purchased vnto you. For my part I must tell you, you haue forced a father to rob himselfe of his children. Do you therefore, O Philanax, and you my other Lordes of this countrie, see the iudgment be rightly performed in time, place and maner, as before appointed. With that though he would haue refrained them; a man might perceiue the teares drop downe his long white beard. Which moued not onely Kalodulus and Kerxenus to
roating lamentations, but al the assembly dolefully to record that pittiful spectacle. Philanax himselfe could not abstaine from great shewes of pittying sorrow, and manifest withdrawing from performing the kinges commaundement. But Musidorus hauing the hope of his safety, and recouering of the princesse Pamela: which made him most desirous to liue, so sodainly dashed: but especialy moued for hys deare Pyrocles, for whom he was euer resolued his last should be, and stirred vp with rage of vnkindnesse, he thus spake. Enioy thy bloudie conquest tyrannicall Euarchus, said he; for neither is conuenient the title of a king, to a murderer, nor the remembrance of kindred, to a destroyer of his kindred. Go home and glorie that it hath been in thy power, shamefully to kill Musidorus. Let thy flattering Orators dedicate Crownes of Laurell vnto thee, that the first of thy race, thou hast ouerthrowne a Prince of Thessalia. But for me I hope the Thessalians are not so degenerate from their auncestors, but that they will reuenge my iniurie; and their losse vpon thee. I hope my death is no more vniust to me; thē it shalbe bitter to thee, howsoeuer it be, my death shall triumph ouer thy crueltie, neither as now would I liue to make my life beholding vnto thee. But if thy crueltie hath not so blinded thine eyes, that thou canst not see thine own heart, if thy heart be not so diuelish, as thou hast no power but to torment thy self: then look vpō this yong Pyrocles, with a manlike eie; if not with a pittifull: Giue not occasion to the whole earth to say, see how the gods haue made the Tyrant teare his owne bowels! Examine the eies and voices of all this people, and what all men see, be not blinde in thine owne case. Looke I say looke vpon him, in whom the most curious searcher is able to finde no fault: but that he is thy sonne. Beleeue it, thy owne subiectes will detest thee, for robbing them of such a Prince, in whome they haue right as well as thy selfe. Some more wordes to that purpose he would haue spoken, but Pyrocles who often had cald to him, did nowe fully interrupt him, desiring him not to do him the wrong to geue his father ill wordes before him, willing him to consider it was their owne fault, and not his vniustice, and withall to remember their resolution of well suffering all accidents, which this impaciencie did seeme to varry frō: and then kneeling down with all humblenesse, hee tooke the speach in this order to Euarchus. If my dayly praiers to the Almightie Gods, had so farre preuayled, as to haue graunted me the end whereto I haue directed my actions; I should rather haue beene nowe a comfort to your minde, then an example of your iustice, rather a preseruer of your memorie by my life, then a monument of your iudgement by my death. But since it hath pleased their vnsearchable wisedomes, to ouerthrow all the desires I had to serue you, and make me become a shame vnto you; since the last obedience I can shew you, is to die: vouchsafe yet O father (if my fault haue not made me altogether vnworthy, so to terme you) vouchsafe I say to let the few & last words your sonne shall euen speake, not be tedious vnto you. And if the remembrance of my vertuous mother, who once was deare vnto you, may beare any sway with you, if the name of Pyrocles haue at any time bene pleasant, let one request of mine which shall not be for mine owne life, be graciously accepted of you. What you owe to iustice is performed in my death. A father to haue executed his onely sonne, wil leaue a sufficient example for a greater crime then this. My bloud will satisfie the highest point of equitie, my bloud will satisfie the hardest hearted in this countrie. O saue the life of this Prince, that is the onely all I will with my last breath demaund of you. With what face will you looke vpon your sister, when in reward of nourishing
me in your greatest neede, you take away and in such sort take away that which is more deare to her then all the world, and is the onely comfort, wherewith she nourisheth her olde age? O giue not such an occasion to the noble. Thessalians, for euer to curse the match that their Prince did make with the Macedon bloud. By my losse there followes no publique losse, for you are to hold the seate, and to prouide your selfe perchance of a worthier successor. But how can you orall the earth recompence that domage, that poore Thessalia shall sustaine? who sending out (whom otherwise they would no more haue spared then their owne eyes) their Prince to you, and you requesting to haue him, by you hee should thus dishonourably be extinguished. Set before you, I beseech you, the face of that miserable people, when no sooner shall the newes come that you haue met your Nephew, but withall they shall heare that you haue beheaded him. How manie teares they shall spend, how many cōplaints they shal make, so manie iust execrations will light vpō you. And take heede O father (for since my death answeres my fault, while I liue I wil call vpō that deare name) Least seeking too precise a course of iustice, you be not thought most vniust: in weakning your neighbours mightie estate, by taking away their onely piller. In me, in me this matter beganne, in me let it receiue his ending. Assure your selfe no man will doubt your seuere obseruing the lawes, when it shal be knowne Euarchus hath killed Pyrocles. But the time of my euer farewell approcheth, if you do thinke my death sufficient for my fault, and doe not desire to make my death more miserable then death. Let these dying wordes of him, that was once your sonne, pearce your eares. Let Musidorus liue, and Pirocles shall liue in him, and you shall not want a childe. A childe cried out Musidorus, to him, that killes Pyrocles? with that againe he fell to intreate for Pyrocles, and Pyrocles as fast for Musidorus, each employing his wit how to shew himselfe most worthy to die, to such an admiration of all the beholders, that most of them examining the matter by their owne passions, thought Euarchus (as often extraordinarie excellencies, not being rightly conceiued, do rather offend then please) an obstinate hearted man, and such a one, who being pittilesse, his dominion must needes be insupportable. But Euarchus that felt his owne miserie more then they, and yet loued goodnesse more then himselfe, with such a sad assured behauiour as Cato killed himselfe withall, when he had heard the vttermost of that their speach tended vnto: he commaunded againe they should be carried away, rising vp from the seate (which he would much rather haue wished, should haue been his graue) and looking who would take the charge, whereto euerie one was exceeding backward. But as this pittifull matter was entring into, those that were next the Dukes bodie, might heare from vnder the veluet, wherewith he was couered, a great voice of groning. Whereat euerie man astonished, (and their spirites appalled with these former miseries, apt to take anie strange conceite) when they might perfitly perceiue the bodie stirre, Then some beganne to feare spirits, some to looke for a myracle, most to imagine they knew not what. But Philanax and Kerxenus, whose eies, honest loue (though to diuerse parties) held most attentiue, leapt to the table, and putting of the veluet couer, might plainly discerne, with as much wonder as gladnesse, that the Duke liued. For so it was, that the drinke he had receiued, was neither as Gynecia first imagined, a loue potion, nor as it was after thought, a deadly poyson, but a drinke made, by notable Arte, and as it was thought not without naturall magicke to procure for thirtie houres, such a deadly sleepe, as should oppresse all shew of life. The
cause of the making of this drinke had first been, that a Princesse of Cyprus, graundmother to Gynecia, being notably learned, (and yet not able with al her learning, to answere the obiections of Cupid) did furiously loue a yoong noble man of her fathers Court. Who fearing the kinges rage, and not once daring either to attempt or accept so high a place, shee made that sleeping drinke, and found meanes by a trustie seruaunt of hers, (who of purpose inuited him to his chamber) to procure him, that suspected no such thing, to receiue it. Which done, he no way able to resist, was secretly carried by him into a pleasant chamber, in the midst of a garden, she had of purpose prouided for this enterprise: where that space of time, pleasing her selfe with seeing and cherishing of him, when the time came of
••
e drinks end of working, and he more astonished then if he had falne from the cloudes, she bad him choose either then to marrie her, and to promise to flie away with her in a bark she had made readie, or else she would presently crie out, and shewe in what place he was, with othe hee was come thither to rauish her. The noble man in these straightes, her beautie preuailed, he married her, and escaped the Realme with her. And after many strange aduentures, were reconciled to the king her father, after whose death they raigned. But she gratefully remembring the seruice, that drinke had done her, preserued in a bottle (made by singular Arte long to keepe it without perishing) great quantitie of it, with the foretold inscription, which wrong interpreted by her daughter in law the Queene of Cyprus, was giuen by her to Gynecia at the time of her marriage, and the drinke finding an old body of Basilius, had kept him some houres longer in the trance, then it would haue done a yoonger. But a good while it was, before good Basilius could come again to himself: in which time Euarchus more glad then of the whole worldes Monarchie, to be rid of his miserable magistracie, which euen in iustice he was now to surrender to the lawful Prince of that countrie; came from the Throne vnto him, and there with much adoe made him vnderstand, how these intricate matters had fallen out. Many garboiles passed through his fancie before he could be perswaded, Cleofila was other then a woman. At length remembring the Oracle, which now indeede was accomplished (not as before he had imagined) considering all had fallen out by the highest prouidence, and withall waying in all these matters his owne fault had been the greatest. The first thing he did, was with all honorable pompe, to send for Gynecia: who poore Ladie thought she was leading forth to her liuing buriall: and (when she came) to recount before all the people, the excellent vertue was in her, which she had not onely maintained all her life most vnspotted: but nowe was contented so miserably to die, to follow her husband. He told them how she had warned him to take heede of that drinke, and so withall the exal
•
inges of her that might be, he publikely desired her pardon, for those errours he had committed. And so kyssing her, left her to receiue the most honourable fame of anie Princesse throughout the world, all men thinking (sauing onely Pyrocles and Philoclea who neuer bewraied her) that she was the perfit mirrour of all wifely loue. Which though in that point vndeserued, she did in the remnant of her life daily purchase, with obseruing al dutie & faith to the example & glorie of Greece. So vncertain are mortall iudgments, the same person most infamous, and most famous, and neither iustly. Then with Princely entertainment to Euarchus, and many kinde words to Pyrocles, whom still he dearely loued though in a more vertuous kinde, the marriage was concluded, to the inestimable ioy of Euarchus, (towardes whom now Musidorus acknowledged
his fault) betwixt these peerelesse Princes and Princesses. Philanax for his singular faith euer held deare of Basilius while he liued, and no lesse of Musidorus, who was to inherite that Dukedome, and therein confirmed to him and his, the second place of that Prouince, with great increase of his liuing to maintain it: which like proportion he vsed to Kaledulus in Thessalia: Highly honouring Kalander while he liued: and after his death continuing in the same measure to loue and aduannce this sonne Clitophon. But as for Sympathus, Pyrocles, (to whom his father in his owne time gaue the whole kingdome of Thrace) held him alwaies about him, giuing him in pure gift, the great Citie of Abdera: But the solemnities of these marriages, with the Arcadian pastoralles, full of many comicall aduentures, hapning to those rurall louers; the straunge stories of Artaxia and Plexirtus, Erona and Plangus; Helene and Amphialus, with the wonderfull chaunces that befell them: The shepheardish loues of Menalcas with Kalodulus daughter; the poore hopes of the poore Philisides in the pursuite of his affections; the strange continuance of Klaius and Strephons desire; Lastly the sonne of Pyrocles named Pyrophilus, and Melidora, the faire daughter of Pamela by Musidorus, who euen at their birth entred into admirable fortunes; may awake some other spirite to exercise his penne in that, wherewith mine is already dulled.
FINIS.
LONDON. Printed for William Ponsonbie, dwelling in Paules Church yard, neere vnto the great north doore of Paules. Anno Domini. 1593.