THE
COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE'S
A R C A D I A.
WRITTEN BY
SIR PHILIP SIDNEY, Knt.
'TES AM) INTRODUCTORY ES.-SAY BY HAIX FRISWELL,
AfTHOR OF "the GEXTLE LIFE," ETC., ETC.
I. .f',^ ,^y^
London
I'N If'W. SON, 'V .\I .XKb'JUN;
MILTON" HOLSE, LUDGATE HIl.L.
New York:
HI, Rl) <V HOl GH ION.
I.S68.
(i>3n^
i
(Jt ^^l^'-T ^-
mi
THE EARL OF DERBY, K.G.,
ETC., ETC, ETC.,
NOT ALONE AS PRIME MINISTER OF ENGLAND AND
FOREMOST IN THE COUNCILS OF
THE queen;
BUT AS POSSESSOR OF A MORE ENDURING FAME
AS ORATOR, SCHOLAR, AND POET,
THIS EDITION OF
^{)e Cf)icf mioxk of a "Noble ^utfjor,"
NOBLE BY BIRTH, MORE NOBLE IN HIS MIND,
IS FITLY, AND BY PERMISSION, DEDICATED
BY
THE EDITOR,
(^^ ^0?)
INTRODUCTORY AND BIOGRAPHICAL
ESSAY.
ING Henry the Second brought with him
from Anjou, in 1154, one WiUiam Sidney,
who, being knighted for service in battle, had
the manor of Sutton granted to him, and was
chamberlain to the King. In lineal descent from him
was William Sidney, who commanded the right wing of
the army victorious at Flodden. He died in 1554,1/
leaving a son, Henry, who was the father of Philip
by Lady Mary Dudley. Henry Sidney, a man of
"comehness of person, gallantness and liveliness of
spirit, virtue, quality, beauty and good composition of
body, the only odd man and paragon of the court,"*
was, injL5.5o^nighted, in company with WiUiam Cecil,
afterwards Lord Burghley. He was in great favour with
the court ; and in July, 1553, King Edward VI. died at
* Holinshed, vol. iii., p. 1548, cited by Mr. Fox Bourne.
viii Introductory and Biographical Essay.
Greenwich, after uttering a noble prayer, says Mr.
Bourne, which closed with the following words : " O my
Lord God, defend this realm from Papistry, and maintain
Thy true religion, that I and my people may praise Thy
holy name ! " Then he said, " I am faint ; Lord have
mercy upon me, and take my spirit ;" and looking to-
wards Sir Henry Sidney, fell into his arms and expired.
Of his mother Sir Philip was as proud as he was of his
father. Referring to the Duke of No-rthumberland, in
his defence of the Earl of Leicester, Philip wrote, " I
am a Dudley in blood, that Duke's daughter's son ; and
do acknowledge, — though, in all truth, I may justly
affirm that I am, by my father's side, of ancient and
always well-esteemed and well-matched gentry, — yet I
do acknowledge, I say, that my chiefest honour is to
be a Dudley." Of seven children Philip wa s the eldes t ;
the second chil d was Mar y, for whpm the " Arcadia "
was written, who married Henry Herbert, Earl of Pem-
broke, and, dying, was celebrated in an ever-living epitaph
by Ben Jonson, as " Sidney's sister, Pembroke's mother."
On the death of King Edward Sir Henry had retired to
Penshurst, in Kent, and there, in 1554, on the 29th of
November, Philip Sidney w^as bom. The King's last
prayer had, at least, no immediate answer. " Papistry "
had come back to England with redoubled vigour ; the
smoke of fires ascended to, and the cries and groans of
martyrs were heard at, the gates of Heaven, and treason
Introductory and Biographical Essay. ix
had done its worst with the Sidney family. One grand-
father of the babe had died just in time, another had
been beheaded — recanting and apologising ; one uncle
perished at the block, another escaped life and a prison
at the same time. Sir Henry, whose mother had been
governess to Edward VL, and whose aunt had been to
the same prince " such as among meaner personages is
called a dry nurse, and from the time he left off sucking
lay with him in bed so long as he remained in women's
government," was loyal to the prince's sister, Queen
Mary, " though neither hking nor hked as he had been."
On the 8th of November, 1554, all his former honours
were confirmed to the good knight by charter of Queen
Mary, and his first child, shortly afterwards born, was*
christened " Philip" in honour of Mary's husband, Philip
of Spain. Sir Henry was afterwards appointed Vice-
Treasurer of the Royal Revenues in Ireland, and served
there victoriously ; in 1558 Queen Elizabeth confirmed
him in his oftices. On the 14th of May, 1563, he was
made Knight of the Garter; in 1565 Lord Deputy in
Ireland, whenincreed~tiT^n;^ueen had but a small part of
that island to depute to any one, the O'Neil holding all
the northern and western parts, and therein leaving the
Queen nothing but "the miserable town of Carrickfergus."
But Sir Henry was a good soldier. He harassed the
O'Neil, defeated him whenever he showed a head, and
the Irish faction, being brought very low, treacherously
X Introductory and Biographical Essay.
rose on and slew their chieftain, and brought to the
Enghsh captain "his head pickled in a pipkin."*
Sir Henry was a wise and good governor, and did all
he could to help the poor people, torn, distressed, and
impoverished by factions and war. He never, he says,
with pity, " saw more waste and desolate land." Noble
walled towns, once with three hundred substantial house-
holders, now with but four, and they ready to leave the
place. All their cry is " Succour ! succour ! succour !''
Succour and peace he gave them, and returned to Eng-
land in 1564, to recruit his health. When Lord President
of the Marches, Sir Henry had lived in Ludlow Castle,
on the southern border of Shropshire, and his celebrated
son was sent to school at Shrewsbury, under Thomas
Ashton, a man known for learning, and at Oxford
perhaps a college friend of Sir Henry. Philip made
good progress, and was renowned, says Ashton, " for
such staidness of mind, lovely and familiar gravity, a talk
ever of knowledge, his very play tending to enrich his
mind. Which eminence in nature and industry made
his worthy father style Sir Philip in my hearing, though
I unseen, Liunen familice su(e''-\ So early does Philip
begin to shine ; when the learned Ashton wrote his
letter he was about eleven, for some time in 1568, when
but thirteen, he went to Oxford, and was for some
* Bourne's Memoir of Sir Philip Sidney, p. 14.
t Life of the Renowned Sir P. Sidney, 1652.
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xi
time a member of Christchurch, where he seems to have
been considered as of rare merit. And, indeed, he was
born to be loved. No young man ever won at so
early an age so great a fame ; for Sidney was not loved
and a dmired for h is "Arcadia" so much as the book
was joyjed_arui-a4mired forjts author. How was this 'I
Surely no man, however well born and placed, could
achieve so sweet and lasting a fame in these days ;
and truly the praisers of time past, a numerous and
not altogether an unreasoning people, are borne out by
great authorities when they say that the days of Queen
Elizabeth, in the genius to which they gave birth, sur-
passed our own days of Queen Victoria. " They [the
English] had then," says Thomas Carlyle, " their Shake-
speare and Sir Philip Sidney, where we have our Sheridan
Knowles and Beau Brummel."* This is putting the
matter in a nutshell. Not even the most enthusiastic
admirer of the clever Irish dramatist would dare to com-
pare him with Shakespeare ; and no one who cares to take
up the cudgels for that curious man and original fop,
Brummel — a man of singular history, and a peculiar, if
not original, genius^ for dandyism — could for a moment
mention him by the side of the young, noble, and exalted
knight, whose name has become a synonym for all that
appertains to the soldier, the courtier, and the gentleman.
The sovereigns that these two men served were not more
* Carlyle, "Miscell." vol. ii. p. no.
xii Introductory and Biographical Essay.
different than their courtiers : from Elizabeth to George
the Fourth how great the stride ! Whatever may be the
opinion formed of Ehzabeth, " the greatest king that
ever ruled in England," — whether we regard her as a
hypocrite, a tyrant, or a self-immolated martyr to her
people and her country, and a virgin queen, — there can
be as little doubt of her ability as there is of the high
power to which she raised the country which had the
happiness to be governed by her. In no possible way is
she to be compared to George the Fourth, any more
than the great Tudor family can be compared to the
house of Hanover. Even in her love of gorgeous appajel
there was a queenly instinct of a noble kind ; whereas
George the Fourth had the spirit of a tailor, and " the
first gentleman in Europe," as he was called, only distin-
guished himself, as Thackeray said in his bitter qiiasi-
epitaph, " by a skill in cutting coats." So Brummel the
Beau, although in his way a courtier, is utterly distinct
from Sir Walter Raleigh, the noble fop — if such a word
is not an insult applied to him— and from Sir Philip
Sidney, the poetic frequenter of the court, perfect at all
points. It would be useless to strain the comparison
any further ; great and pure in his hfe, beautiful and ele-
vated in his thoughts, at all times entering on or tread-
ing the high region of poetic fancy. Sir Philip Sidney has
left a name which will always be quoted when one desires
an instance of that noble ideal, the Enghsh gentleman.
Introductory a7id Biographical Essay. xlii
Dr. Zouch states that Philip went also to Cambridge ;
if he did, it was not for long, for at the age of seventeen
he went on his travels, memorable enough for him, for
he was one of those indignant Englishmen who, taking
refuge with the English ambassador, Sir Francis Wal-
singham, said their prayers, with loaded fire-arms and
drawn swords, and in bated breath, while Sir Francis
looked from his window at the brutal massacre of Saint
Bartholomew. Escaping Paris, Sidney went to Hun-
gary, Italy, and Germany, where Jie made a firm
friend of Hubert Languet, a man of great learning,
and^a friend of Melancthon, and in 1575 returned to
England. Next year, at the age of twenty-one, he
was appointed ambassador to the Emperor of Austria,
where he contracted a friendship with the famous Don
John. Speaking too openly against the project of the
Queen's marriage with the Duke of Anjou, he aban-
doned the court, and in retirement, at the seat of his
brother-in-law the Earl of Pembroke, wrote his "Ar-
cadia." The romance, dedicated to his sister — a married
woman, it is well to remember, in excuse of certain pas-
sages — was never intended for publication.
In 1583 he received the honour of knighthood; three
years afterwards he was made Governor of Flushing, and
general of the troops sent to the assistance oflhe United
Provinces, then at war with the Roman Catholic powers ;
and at this time his reputation for learning, gentleness,
xiv Introductory and Biogj'aphical Essay.
wisdom, valour, and true knighthood stood so high that
he was thought a fit candidate for the crown of Poland.
Queen Elizabeth, whose loyal subject he was, would not
allow him to be put in nomination, because she said —
and such a sentence to such a man was more than a
crown — she could not brook " the loss of the jewel of her
dominions."
That jewel was soon, however, to be lost in another
way. Mounting his third horse (two had been slain
under him) at the bloody battle of Zutphen, he received
a mortal wound !n his thigh, probably injuring the fe-
^ moral artery. This, and death, were owing to his
chivalric gallantr}^ He was well armed when he went
to the field, but meeting Sir William Pelham, lord mar-
shal of the English camp, without armour lower than
his breastplate, Sidne}^ threw off his cuisses and was fore-
most in the attack. The English, assailed on all sides,
repelled their enemies, but a shot from an ambush struck
Sidney in the left leg above the knee, splintering the
bone. Faint with excess of bleeding, and carried along
towards the place where was his uncle and general, the
Earl of Leicester, he called for drink, " which," says
Lord Brooke, " was presently brought unto him." As
he was putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor
soldier carried along, " who had eaten his last at that
same feast (of death or glory), ghastly casting his eyes at
the bottle ; which Sir Philip perceiving, took from his
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xv
head before he drunk, and delivered it to the poor man
with these words, 'Thy necessity is yet greater than
mine.'"* These touching words, and this knightly act,
will be remembered as the last words of Sidney, who,
however, lived afterwards for twenty-five days ; and,
when dead, he was, by the order of his Queen, brought
home to the shores of the country which he had loved,
served, and adorned, and buried with great state in the
heart of a mighty city, in the old cathedral of St.
Paul's.
Impetuous, brave, transparent as a fair casement,
graceful, accomplished as a scholar and as a knight,
whether in the tournament or on the battle-field, a lover
of his word, generous and open-handed, a sacrificer of
himself, pure in his morals, unsullied in his honour, he
had gained the love and esteem of all those who had the
happiness to meet him. His memory is a very pleasant
one to reflect on ; it does honour to our nation ; is
bright, gentle, satisfying, and indeed flattering to our
pride. Sidney never said a foolish or mean thing,
and he did a thousand generous ones, of which his
last act was but the crowning grace. We accept him
as the type of what an English gentleman should be.
He hated anything that was sordid and mean ; his very
faults we identify with the true, open sunshine-character
* Fulke Greville, p. 145. "Leicester Correspondence," p. 416.
xvi Introducioiy and Biographical Essay.
of the man. In his "Astrophel and Stella"* is the
sentence — which should be above every author's desk —
"Looke in thy heart, and write;" advice which Sidney ever
followed. Sometimes therefore, we get anger and hasty
words out of that heart, but never meanness, falsehood,
or cowardice. Thus, believing that his father's secretary
had betrayed him, and had been peeping and prying into
his letters, he wrote — " Mr. Molyneux : Few words are
best. My letters to my father have come to the eyes of
some ; neither can I blame any one but you for it. If it
be so, you have played the very knave with me. . . If
I do know you henceforward read any letter that I write
to my father, without his commandment or my consent,
I will thrust my dagger into you : and trust to it, for I
speak it in earnest. In the mean time, farewell."
This is not the very gentle Sidney ; but every one is
aware that the best of us are not always angelic, forbear-
ing, and wise. Poor Mr. Molyneux, it appears more-
over, was wholly innocent.
* In which we find the origin of the form of verse made famous
by Mr. Tennyson in "In Memoriam," and some curious parallels.
Sidney's lamentation is on the unkindness of a mistress, Tennyson's
on the death of a friend; and thus the verses run together : —
Sid. Ring out ymtr bells ; let mourning shows be spread.
Ten. Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky.
Sid. I see the house ; my heart, thyself contain.
Ten. Dark house by which once more I stand.
Sid. My friend that saici'st through all vias/cs viy 7voe.
Ten. The dead shall look me through and through.
There are many other parallel thoughts and lines; and yet one poet
may have never read the other's works.
Ifitrodudory and Biographical Essay. xvii
Sidney's truest and best romance lay in his life ; but
yet there is and will ever be something very charming
in his romance, the " Arcadia." Everybody read the ^V^
" Arcadia " when it was published, about four years
after Sidney's death, although when dying he had de-
sired it to be destroyed; but, after passing through
eleven editions, it fell into a comparative oblivion ; and
this, too, as well as its success, is due to the book itself,
for it is a very long romance, with a great deal of action
in it, and full of romantic incidents ; nor is the actual
thread of the narrative broken. Yet it certainly
contains elements of success, since, in addition to the
merits above mentioned, it possesses some of the
most natural and charming writing, some of the purest
and most elevated conceptions, ever put forward. Cow-
per, the poet, a man of rare sensibility, has truly de-
scribed the author as " S idney, warbler o f poetic prose ;"
so much does he warble, that there are few pages in the
folio that do not contain perfect gems in writing, far better v
than any that are to be found in his poetry. Thus, in
one immortal passage, a shepherd boy is described
''piping as though he never should grow old;" and
Parthenia's beauty is thus described — " Her hps, though
they kept close with modest silence, yet, with a pretty
kind of natural sweUing, seemed to invite the guests that
looked on them; her cheeks, blushing when she was
spoken unto, a little smiling, were like roses, when their
b
XVlll
Introductory and Biographical Essay,
le^2i£S--a4:dJimthr-a-liltle^birM stirred." There is, more-
over, in addition to such passages, an innate manUness
in the book. " Oh," says an old gentleman to the
younger ones, "you will never live to my age unless
you keep yourself in "breath with exercise, a? id in heart
ivith joy fulness : too much thinking doth consume the
spirits j and oft it falls out that, when one thinks too
much of his doing, he leaves to do the effect of his
thinking."* In describing two young princes, he does
not waste words, like our late novelists, on the situation,
riches, fine dresses, power, and beauty of such, but goes
at once to the heart of the matter. Their " knowledge
was worthy of all princes, both to move them to do nobly
and to teach them how to do nobly, the beauty of Virtue
being still [ever] set before their eyes, and that taught
them with far more diligent care than grammatical
rules." They were also " exercised in all methods
both of doing and suffering ; " and, lastly, we are
told in a sentence which speaks to the heart of a
good man as a trumpet does to that of a soldier,
" Nature had done so much for them in nothing as
that it had made them lo?'ds of Truth, whereon all
other goods were builded."
Such are the merits and beauties of the "Arcadia" that
* Shakespeare surely had Arcadia in his eye when he wrote
his most charming comedy, " As You Like It." Arden is Arcadia;
and old Adam talks in much the same strain of his youth as does this
old gentleman.
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xix
its great drawbacks — want of co mprehensible plot, an
utter entanglement of the thread of the story, and, from
numerous disguises, the inability of the reader to distin-
guish the heroes and heroines — are forgotten by one who
loves and admires poetic writing. But, on the other
hand, these drawbacks are so great that it is very difficult
to relate succinctly what the story is. Shakespeare, our
great character-painter, was only twenty-two when Sidney
died, and had not taught our writers to invent character,
and to give a living interest to all that they invented.
Then, again, Arcadia is in Greece — a fabulous and
semi-pagan Greece, utterly unlike that of Pericles and
Plato, or mediaeval Greece, or any other place with,
which modern knowledge is acquainted : and young
people, with every good quality, and every beauty, wan-
der about in woods, are taken by pirates, kill lions and
bears, fall in love with each other, believe in Christianity
and heathen gods, wear armour like Tudor knights, yea,
dress up as Amazons, and fight with the Helots and
Lacedaemonians, in a terribly confusing way. Even
Sidney's warmest admirer, William Stigant, M.A., con-
fesses that, for a reader properly to understand the
novel, a biography of each person, and a description
of his disguises, should be prefixed to the bookj*
* '* We should find our way more easily through the labyrinth if
a biographical dictionary were at hand of all the inhabitants of this
strange land." — Cambridge Essays, 1858, p. 117.
b2
^
XX j7itrodiictory and Biographical Essay.
while Hazlitt plainly calls Sidney's book tedious, dry,
and silly. "Nothing," says Dr. Drake, "can be more
incompact and nerveless than the style of Sidney ;" but
this is eminently untrue, — the style is beautiful. It is
^ the want of human interest that makes the story nerve-
less. When we complain of Sidney, we forget how much
our great novelists have taught us, and how it is that,
imperceptibly to them, even the smallest writers have
learnt how to make their pages lively by wit, and in-
teresting from the living humanity of their characters.
That the romance has been tedious to some there is
little doubt. Horace Walpole, who could admire his
own " Castle of Otranto," could by no means understand,
much less appreciate, Sidney's book. He has not even
included him among his " Royal and Noble Authors,"
but, in a notice of Sidney's friend, Fulke Greville, Lord
Brcoke, thus speaks of him : — " No man seems to me so
astonishing an object of temporary admiration as the
/celebrated friend of the Lord Brooke, the famous Sir
Phihp Sidney. The learned of Europe dedicated their
works to him. The republic of Poland thought him at
least worthy to be put in nomination for their crown.
All the houses of England wept his death. When we at
this distance of time inquire what prodigious merits ex-
cited such admiration, what do we find ? Great valour 1
t But' it was an age of heroes. In full of all other
talents, we have a tedious, lamentable, pedantic, pastoral
LiU'oductory and Biographical Essay. xxi
romance, which the patience of a young virgin in love
cannot now wade through; and some absurd attempts to
fetter EngUsh verse in Roman chains— a proof that this
applauded author understood little of the genius of his
own country." The age of George II. was, in good
truth, unable to comprehend that of Elizabeth. Walpole
returns to the charge in a note. He had been blamed,
he said, " for not mentioning Sir Philip's Defence of
Poetry, which some think his best work. / had indeed
forgot it when I wrote this article. Nor can I conceive
how a man who had in some respects written dully and
weakly, and who was at most far inferior to our best
writers, had obtained such immense reputation. Let
his merits and his fame be weighed together, and then
let it be determined whether the world has over-valued
or I under-valued Sir Philip Sidney." And again, after
slight praise of Sidney's answer to the famous libel,
" Leicester's Commonwealth " — " He defends his uncle
with great spirit. What had been said in derogation to
their blood seems to have touched Sir Fhilip most.''* Wal-
pole has another fling at the hero whom he cannot
understand. " He died with the rashness of a volunteer,
after having lived to write with the sajig-froid and pro-
lixity of Mademoiselle Scuderi."
Walpole would have understood him if he could ; but
* See ante, p. viii. ; it was the Dudley blood of which Sidney was
so proud.
xxii Introducto7'y and Biographical Essay.
there are those whose spirits move in charmed circles,
and they who are outside such circles cannot comprehend
them. It was about the time that Walpole was penning
this disastrous criticism — and he was far from being a
bad dilettante critic — that young Chatterton appealed
to him — uselessly, as we know — and then, without a
helping hand, and with a rash impatience we all must
deplore, " perished in his pride," a very wreck of genius,
leaving us to marvel what he might have done. He
could have understood Sidney, and would have been
charmed with the singular grace, felicity of expression,
and sweet purity of the "Arcadia." We are in the high
mountain region of imperial fancy, and our guide is
scarcely to be blamed if we are unable to appreciate the
prospect. Sidney's sentiments, always naturally and
delicately expressed, are very pure and noble ; and if
to read Fielding after modern novels is, as has been
well said, like walking over a breezy heath after being
confined to the unwholesome air of a stifling chamber,
then the atmosphere of Arcadia must be very rarefied
and pure indeed ; such breezes as would blow only
round the higher belts of Parnassus.
" All confess," says Fulke Greville, " that Arcadia
of his to be, in form and matter, as inferior to that
unbounded spirit as other men's wishes are raised above
the writers' capacities. But the truth is, his aid was not
wiHting while he wrote, but both his wit and understand-
/
l7iti'odiicto7'y and Biographical Essay. xxiii
ing leant upon his heart, to make himself and others, not
in words and opinion, but in hfe and action, good and
great." This is a noble vindication of him as a writer.
Moreover, we must remember that Sidney begged that
his book might be destroyed ; that he did not even read
the sheets as they left his hand ; that no portion was
printed during his life ; and that the first two books
and a portion of the third are the only parts in any
manner co7?ipleted by himself* Ben Jonson told Drum-
mond of Hawthornden that he knew Sir Phihp Sidney
meant to transform the " Arcadia " into an English
romance, of which the hero should be King Arthur.
This notion of writing perfectly English romance, which
is said to be the life-dream of our present Laureate, is
much happier than that of casting his story " in some
cloud-cuckoo land, inhabited by knights and ladies, whose j
manners are taken from chivalry, whose talk is Platonic,
and whose religion is Pagan." But we must fain read the
"Arcadia" as it is ; and its beauties are such, that when
they are a little accustomed to the treatment, surely
almost all readers will be delighted to be introduced to
Sidney in the portable and readable form which, after
much trouble and doubt, is here attempted.
Sidney also wrote a very noble " Defence of Poesie,"
and was so charmed with the description of the Cave of
Despair by^ Spenser,. who had dedicated to him "The
* Stigant's Sir P. Sidney. Cambridge Essays, 1858.
xxiv Introductory and Biographical Essay.
Shepherd's Calendar," that he ordered ^loo to be given
to Spenser for every stanza that he read, till he threw
down the book, laying that if he read more he should
give away all his fortune.* He invited Spenser to Pens-
/hurst, where the two poets read Plato and Aristotle
*^ together, and talked poetry under the wide -spreading
% beeches and the tall chestnuts of the park.
\ But it is not in Sidney's books that we must look for
the hero ; his life was his best book. It was his honour,
his dignity, his accomplishments, his true heroism, the
noble spirit of the gentleman, that made everybody love
him. He was the ideal Englishman of a noble day. He
did nothing for money, but all for honour. Restless and
ever active, he was ready to share the glories of Drake,
Frobisher, Hawkins, and those who saved us from the
racks and thumbscrews ready prepared for the English
Protestants on board the Invincible Armada, although
he was godson of Philip of Spain ; or he would have
sailed with the noble and adventurous Sir Walter Raleigh.
He planned to go abroad with Drake, and fight the
Spaniards on the American main. " He was," says Lord
Brooke, " a man fit for conquest, plantation [colonisa-
tion], reformation, or whatever action is greatest and
* Todd, in his "Account of the Life and Writings of Spenser,"
speaks of this story as most improbable ; and the author of the Life
of Spenser in the Biographia Britannica considers it an idle tale. We
give the anecdote for what it is worth.
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xxv
bravest among men, and, withal, such a lover of 7na?ikind,
that whatsoever had any real parts in him found comfort,
participation, and protection, to the uttermost of his
power; Hke Zephyrus, he giving life wherever he blew."
This was the real secret why, as a courtier, even his
enemies loved him ; why, as a scholar, all poets admired
him ; why the universities abroad dedicated books to
him j and, to quote again the noble words of Lord
Brooke, " soldiers honoured him, and were so ho?ioured
by hi?n, that no man thought that he marched under the
true banner of Mars that had not obtained Sir PhiHp
Sidney's approbation." Simply, Sidney was, before and
above everything, a Christian gentleman. He came, as
we have shown, of noble stock. His father, Sir Henry,
in his wars in Ireland, where he did all to civilise the
savages he fought against, had always a cheering word
and brave face to show of a morning after his six hours'
sleep ; and, when things were at the darkest and most
dangerous pass, would turn round in his saddle and
address his soldiers as " good friends and loving com-
panions." This brave man taught his sons to love God
and truth first, and then to be cheerful. '' Let your first
action," he wrote to his son, " be the lifting up of your
mind to Almighty God by hearty prayer . . . then
give yourself to be merry ; for you degenerate frpm your
father if you find not yourself most able in wit and body
to do anything when you be most merry." His son,
xxvi Intro dtictory and Biographical Essay.
from his very infancy, was the delight and reward of his
brave father and mother ; and that father happily went to
an honoured grave, mourned by his great Queen (who
sent the King-at-Arms to represent her in person), and
was buried in great state by her order. That mother in a
few months followed her noble husband, leaving alive
the son — himen familice suce — the very light of his family,
as his father had styled him.
But it was not for long that this light of the family was
to remain unquenched. " Sidney had tried," said Fulke
Greville, " not to write of, but to act out, a noble life."
His death was to be the test and crown of this, endeavour.
After his wound he was put on board his uncle's barge
and carried to Arnheim, where for five-and-twenty days
he lay dying, and, surrounded by his friends, " made be-
fore them such a confession of faith as no book but the
heart can feelingly disclose." He continually talked
with his friend and chaplain in those days, George Gif-
ford, of the unsearchable goodness of God ; he moralized
on his wound, and wrote a poem called " La Cuisse
Rompue," of which no portion remains. His wife, far
advanced in her pregnancy, hurried to watch by his bed-
side, and nursed him with all wifely tenderness, and with
her and George Gififord he often confessed his sins to God,
owning his unworthiness and praising God's mercy. He
talked much of the immortaUty of the soul, and delighted
not so much in the speculations of Plato, Aristotle, and
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xxvii
Cicero, says one of his biographers, as in the assurances
of the Bible, and in cheering up his dying spirits to take
possession of that immortal inheritance which was given
to him by his brotherhood in Christ.^' Once, after Gifford's
praying with him and raising his spirits, and Sidney,
worn to a shadow, with his body mortifying, his blade
bones piercing through his skin, did now and then de-
spond, he rallied his faith to the support of his soul, and
said, as he contemplated the infinite wisdom and love of
God, " I would not change my joy for the empire of the
world. "t He made a very full and precise will, doing
justice to all his creditors, remembering all his friends
and his servants, and even as he was dying he cheered,
whilst chided, the grief of his friends, the most afflicted
amongst whom was Robert Sidney, his brother.
His last words to his brother and wife were, '' Love
my memory, cherish my friends : their faith to me will
assure you they are honest ; but, above all, govern your
will and your affections by the will and word of your
Creator." In the midst of his final agony, when he be-
wailed his life, noble as it was, as "Vain ! vain !" his
chaplain whispered in his ear to hold up his hand if he
still felt gladness and consolation in God. Sidney lifted
the wasted hand, waved it on high, and it then fell with
weakness ; he joined his palms on his breast, and with a
joyful last look went forward to the unknown world.
* Fulke Greville. f Cotton MS., quoted by Mr. Fox Bourne.
xxviii Introductory and Biographical Essay.
And such was this young man, aged only thirty-two,
that even his Spanish enemies bewailed him ; the peasant
at Penshurst, the courtier with his Queen, the great Queen
herself, the meanest soldier in the camp, lamented him ;
and above two hundred authors wrote sad elegiacs on
his death. Brought home to London, the streets were
thronged ; the Lord Mayor and Aldermen, robed in
purple, and on stately horses — the deputies from foreign
States, came forth to follow his ashes ; English men and
women wept and sobbed aloud, and lamented for him as
a brother, and as the most beloved and first true gentle-
tleman of Europe. There is a lesson in such a life.
The principle on which this edition of the " Arcadia"
has been put through the press perhaps needs some expla-
nation. As the sheets of MS. left the hands of Sidney,
after the first book, or perhaps two, had been completed,
they were transmitted to his sister, the Countess of
Pembroke, and some of them mislaid and lost. Hence
one very great hiatus supplied by Sir William Alexander,
others by R(ichard) B(eling) and Mr. Johnstone. It
is also known that the Countess of Pembroke added to
the episodes, adventures, and strange turns, at least in
all the later books. Hence there is to be met with an
Arcadian undergrowth which needs mUch careful pruning 3
and this undertaken, with needful compression, will leave
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xxix
the reader all that he desires of Sidney's own. Growing
like certain fanciful parasites upon forest trees, on the
books of the "Arcadia" are certain eclogues of laboriously-
written and fantastical poetry, some in Latin measures,
against which Walpole was right to protest, and anent
which Pope said —
"And Sidney's verse halts ill on Roman feet."
These have been boldly removed, without any loss, it is
believed, to the romance ; lastly, long episodes of no
possible use to the book, which we think have been
supplied by other hands than Sidney's, have, whilst using
their very words and phrases, been cut down. Tedious
excrescences have thus been removed, but it is to be
hoped with judgment, so that the reader gets all we think
is Sidney's, and without curb put upon his utterance.
Moreover, the spelling of the author in most obsolete
words is adhered to, and wherever the meaning of any
is obscure a note is added ; and these words, as will be
seen by the Glossarial Index, are many, and have been
carefully illustrated by examples taken from writers pre-
vious to, or contemporary with, Sidney, so that the study
of philology may be slightly helped by a perusal of this
charming romance. Otherwise it has been thought fit to
adhere to an uniform method of orthography; but this
makes little difference in our work. Tlius, in Book II.,
there is a passage which is taken haphazard, so as to
XXX Introductory and Biographical Essay.
show how httle variation there is between the speUing of
Sidney and our own. " But I had sw^m a very nttle
way, when I felt by reason of a wound that I had that I
should not be<? able to abide the travel ; and, therefore,
seeing the mast, whose tackling had been burnt off, fl^^te
clear from the ship, I swam unto it, and getting on it, I
found mine own sword, which by chance when I threw
it away, caught by a p<?(?ce of canvas, had hung to the mast.
I was glad, h^caus I loved it well." Now there are only four
words here in which we vary from Sidney, and the reader
will at once perceive them, the variations being italicized.
We have adopted the p. p. sworn as being true English ; we
have excised or added letters to bee^Jlote^ peece^2C(\A becaus
for the sake of uniformity, since the irregular way in which
Sidney's printers spelt the words adds nothing to our
knowledge nor our satisfaction. Where there is truly
good reason to retain the Sidneian form, it is always
retained ; so that, if, as it is sincerely hoped, the popu-
larity of this noble work revives, modern readers may
learn to love Sidney in his own noble and simple dress.
For his style, it is easy, flowing, and copious ; "legible,"
indeed, as'Stigant says ; that is, easy to be read and un-
derstood after the involved and pedantic stuff vented by
too many of his predecessors. "Sidney," the same writer
adds, "be it always remembered,_was the first writer of
good English prose." He is so, and he needs no moderni-
zation^like that which the facile Mrs. Stanley attempted on
Introductory and Biographical Essay. xxxi
him, who removed not only all the quaintnesses and con-
ceits, but the sweet bloom of diction, and every innocent
grace of art. Sidney's work is indeed " merimi sal — the
sweet food of sweetly uttered knowledge ;" and it must
have been read, and, as we have shown in the notes, made
good use of by Ben Jonson, Shakespeare, Beaumont and
Fletcher, and their contemporary dramatists, in whose
dramatis pei'soim many of his names are to be traced.
Shakespeare borrows Leontes, Antigonus, Cleomenes,
Archidaraus, and Mopsa, and the episode of the bear
from " Arcadia ;" and, although the " Winter's Tale " is
said to be taken from Robert Greene's " Pandosto," and
"As You Like It" from some other source, there are
traces of the " Arcadia" in the Bohemia and in the sweet
and enchanted forest of Arden. Of its own origin there
may be a little said. The time was a knightly one ; the
form of chivalry had died out, but its spirit was still with
us, though readers, tired of Bevis of Hampton, Tristram
of Lyoness, Denis of France and Palmerin of England,
or Amadis of Gaul, looked for others: hence Sidney's
modification of a knightly and pastoral romance,
something resembling those of Mademoiselle Scuderi,
and yet coloured more after the Arcadia of Sannazaro,
the Diana of Jorge de Montemayor, the Arcadia of Lope
de Vega, and Theagenes and Chariclea.* It is added
* Cited by Mr. Stigant, who also notices that from Sannazaro's
romance Shakespeare borrowed the name of Opheha — at any rate, it
is there.
xxxii Introdudojy and Biographical Essay.
that many of the characters are from life. Musidorus
and Pyrocles are supposed to be Fulke Greville and
Sidney ; Philoclea and Pamela are Stella and the daughter
of Essex ; Cecropia, cruel, deceitful, bloody, is Catherine
de Medici, and the wise Euarchus Sir Henry Sidney. The
scenery of the "Arcadia" is said to have been taken
from that of Hackness, six miles N.W. of Scarborough.
This may be or may not be : it matters little. In the
copy of the tenth edition from which the present is
printed, a learned antiquary, Samuel Weston, did,
one hundred years ago, prefix on the fly-leaf a quo-
tation from Ovid, expressive of the open, fresh, and
mor7ii7ig feeUng that a perusal of the "Arcadia" pro-
duces ; and with this and its translation, very beautifully
done by the same hand, we take leave, wishing the
reader hearty welcome to these sweet Arcadian scenes.
' ' Ecce vigil rutilo patefecit ab ortu
Purpureas Aurora fores, et plena rosarum
Atria."
" Behold, the wakeful Morn
Has in the east unbarr'd her purple gates,
And with red roses strew'd her vestibule."
INDEX TO NOTES,
Glossarial and otherwise.^
A DREAD, 154
affects, 389
alablaster, 319
aland, 130 — *
all-to, 182
anothergains, 179
Apostle's Mantle,
456
appassionate, 468
ascanses, 184 __
Babies, 279
Baccha, 205
bachelry, 252
backside, 16
barley-break, 114
base, 5
bases, 84
battles, 274
bid, 151
bowl near the mis-
tress, 310
braul, 106 /yi.A'J*''
bravely covered, 375
breeches, 85
bruits, 22
burgesses, 193
business, 348
Gates, 401
citizens, 50
comber, 287
conjuring, 177
cony-holes, 365
corner-look, 387
counter-buff, 363
curious, 453
cuts, 178
Daiphantus, 216
defeasance, 328
defi-aying, 1 1
defy, 298
deliver, 333
duke, 472
Ei-melin, 87
Erona, 173
exigent, 422
Fact, 29
flang, 294 — ^
foined, 377 ""^ jfy\^.
forthright, 167
frembed, 116 — ^ {■/
furmenty, 401—
furr, 113
* Some of the words in the above list have escaped the notice of our
best commentators on the old writers, and are now explained perhaps
for the first time. It is to be regretted that Sidney — a fruitful held for
philological labour — has met with so much neglect. At the same time
the Editor begs to acknowledge his obligations for some assistance
derived from the valuable works of Nares, Richardson, T. Wright,
R. Morris (" Specimens of Early English"), J. O. Halliwell, and many
others.
XXXIV
Garboils, 474
gazing-gock, 303
generally, 423
ghost, 305
gild gold, 336
gittern, 228
gives, 386
going to his heart, 185
good cheap, 180
gotten within him, 221
great spending, 292
grisly, 181
Haling, 264
handsel, 425
harrish, 441
haunted, 10
Helen, 202
his, 4
hulling, 7
Imposthumed, 408
indifferently, 240
interessed, 418
its, 4
Jolhtie, 89
justicing, 237
Keels, 109
killed his horse, 328
kindly, 261
knights of the Order,
456
Lace, 180
lamms, 291
leave, 159
left obedience to, 354
lo, 176
lobbish, 441
Magnes, 269
Index to Notes.
make -bate, 177
many - headed multi-
tude, 226
Mary, 442
matachin-dance, 88
mean, 447
micher, 11 r
minion, 366
miser, 161
mistress, 310
mo, 218
mun-ey, 457
Nor doubt not, 344
Objections, 37
occurrents, 470
owes, 168
Pamela's prayer, 266
pantable, 69
partakers, 149
partlet, 303
party, 454
patrons, 325
pavin, 370
pensils, 274
petrell, 299
pig, 398
pigsme, 307
piping, 12
practice, 200, 254
pretended, 460
prince by succession,
423
pursue on, 353
pyramis, 238
Pyroclean nature, 376
Quick buiied, 420
Ravening, 17
recorded, 395
remembered to forget,
222
renting, 386
rounded in his ear, 23
Sarpedon, 274
sconces, 313
scummy, 438
seeled, 78, 264
seized, 74
shewels, 280
shrugging, 188
simple, 179
sleights, 350
slubbered, 14
stays, 9
stickled, 6
stood, 399
suggested out of, 306
swarved, 356 «^ ? ■- ry^
Tendered, 183
torches, 250
trained, 464
Unnatural beast, I CO
unsensible, 46
Yalures, 433
vampalt, 270 ^
viny, 416
virtue, 374
visitation, 377
voward, 47
Ward, 35
whether, 315
wild mare, 221
win, 22
witty, 27
wold, 180
Zelmaneship, 70
TO MY DEAR LADY AND SISTER
THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE.
ERE now have you, most dear, and most
worthy to be most dear, Lady, this idle work
of mine, which, I fear, hke the spider's web,
will be thought fitter to be swept away than
worn to any other purpose. For my part, in very truth,
as the cruel fathers among the Greeks were wont to do
to the babes they would not foster, I could well find in
my heart to cast out in some desert of forgetfulness this
child, which I am loath to father. But you desired me to
do it ; and your desire, to my heart, is an absolute com-
mandment. Now it is done only for you, only to you.
If you keep it to yourself, or to such friends who will
weigh errors in the balance of goodwill, I hope, for the
father's sake, it will be pardoned, perchance made much
of, though in itself it have deformities; for, indeed,
for severer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that
triflingly handled. Your dear self can best witness the
manner, being done in loose sheets of paper, most of it
xxxvi The Epistle Dedicatory.
in your presence, the rest by sheets sent unto you as fast
as they were done. In sum, a young head, not so well
stayed as I would it were, and shall be when God will,
having many, many fancies begotten in it, if it had not
been in some way delivered, would have grown a
monster, and more sorry might I be that they came in
than that they gat out. But his chief safety shall be the
not walking abroad, and his chief protection the bearing
the livery of your name, which, if much goodwill do not
deceive me, is worthy to be a sanctuary for a greater
offender. This say I because I know the virtue so ; and
this say I because it may be ever so, or, to say better,
because it will be ever so. Read it, then, at your idle
times, and the follies your good judgment will find in it
blame not, but laugh at ; and so, looking for no better
stuff than, as in a haberdasher's shop, glasses or feathers,
you will continue to love the writer, who doth exceed-
ingly love you, and most, most heartily prays you may
long live to be a principal ornament to the family of the
Sidneys.
Your loving Brother,
PHILIP SIDNEY.
THE
COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE'S
ARCADIA.*
WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEY.
The Fii'st Book.
T was in the time that the Earth begins to put on
her new apparel against the approach of her lover,
and that the sun running a most even course
becomes an indifferent arbiter between the night
and the day, when the hopeless shepherd Strephon
was come to the sands which lie against the island of
Cithera, where, viewing the place with a heavy kind of
delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the isleward, he
* "It is a country whose fitness for pasturage and grazing hath made
it the subject of many worthy and witty discourses, especially that of
Sir Philip Sidney, of whom I cannot but make honourable mention;
a book which, besides its excellent language, rare contrivances, and
delectable stories, hath in it all the strains of poesy, comprehendeth
the universal art of speaking, and, to them who can discern and will
observe, afifordeth notable rules for demeanour, both private and
public." — P. Heylyn's Cosmography of Arcadia in Greece.
P
,,^ , . . ; ; ARCADJA.—Bcok I.
'V . friendly rival the pastor Claius unto him ; and,
t down in his darkened countenance a doleful
at he would speak, " O my Claius," said he, "hither
'■■■' come to pay the rent for which we are so called
over-busy remembrance ; remembrance, restless
ice, which claims not only this duty of us, but for
; us forget ourselves. '/l pray you, when we were
flock, and that, of other shepherds, some were
.y , "ter their sheep, strayed beyond their bounds ;
hting their eyes with seeing them nibble upon the
sweet grass, some medicining their sick ewes,
ng a bell for an ensign of a sheepish squadron,
more leisure inventing new games of exercising
es, and sporting their wits, — did remembrance
ny holiday, either for pastime or devotion, nay,
necessary food or natural rest, but that still it
thoughts to work upon this place, where we last
: the word 'last' should so long ktst — did grace
pon her ever-flourishing' beautyy did it not still
us : 'Ah, you base-minded wretches ! are your
) deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary world-
r respect of gain some paltry wool may yield you,
nuch time pass without knowing perfectly her
;cially in so troublesome a season ; to leave that
luted from whence you may see to the island
here she dwelleth ; to leave those steps unkissed wherein
ran!". •;>)• nted the farewell of all beauty?' Well, then,
ice commanded, we obeyed, and here we find,
remembrance came ever clothed unto us in the
> place, so this place gives new heat to the fever
iguishing remembrance. Yonder, my Claius,
ited ; the very horse methought bewailed to be so
d ; and as for thee, poor Claius, when thou
ARCADIA.— Book J. 3
wentest to help her down, I saw reverence and desire so
divide thee that thou didst at one instant both blush and
quake, and instead of bearing her wert ready to fall down
thyself. There she sate, vouchsafing my cloak (then most
gorgeous) under her ; at yonder rising of the ground she
turned herself, looking back toward her wonted abode, and
because of her parting, bearing much sorrow in her eyes,
the lightsomeness whereof had yet so natural a cheerfulness
as it made even sorrow seem to smile ; at that turning she
spake to us all, opening the cherry of her lips, and, Lord ! how
greedily mine ears did feed upon the sweet words she
uttered ! And here she laid her hand over thine eyes, when
she saw the tears springing in them, as if she would conceal
them from other and yet herself feel some of thy sorrow.
But woe is me ! yonder, yonder did she put her foot into the
boat, at that instant, as it were, dividing her hea\Lenly beauty
between the earth and the sea. But when she was embarked-
did you not mark how the winds whistled, and the seas
danced for joy ; how the sails did swell with pride, and all
because they had Urania.? O Urania, blessed be thou,
Urania, the sweetest fairness and fairest sweetness !" With
that word his voice brake so with sobbing that he could say-
no further ; and Claius jthus answered, " Alas, my „§trephon,"
said he, " what needs this score to reckon up only our losses ?
What doubt is there but that the sight of this place doth call
our thoughts to appear at the court of Affection, held by that
racking steward Remembrance ? As well may sheep forget to
fear when they spy wolves, as we can miss such fancies,
when we see any place made happy by her treading. Who
can choose that saw her but think where she stayed, where
she walked, where she turned, where she spoke } But what
is all this ? Truly no more but, as this place served us to
think of those things, so those things serve as places to call
B 2
4 ARCADIA.—Book I.
to memory more excellent matters. No, no, let us think
with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and
acknowledge with admiration, and admire with love, and
love with joy in. the. midst of all woes ; let us in such sort
think, I say, that our poor eyes were so enriched as to
behold, and our low hearts so exalted as to love, a maid who
is such, that as the greatest thing the world can show is her
beauty, so the least thing that may be praised in her is her
beauty. J) Certainly, as her eye-lids are more pleasant to
behold than two white kids climbing up affair tree, and .
browsing on his* tenderest branches, and yet are nothing -^J
compared to the day-shining stars contained in them ; and
as her breath is more sweet than a gentle south-west wipd,
which comes creeping over flowery fields and shadowed
waters in the extreme heat of summer, and yet is nothing
compared to the honey-flowing speech that breath doth
carry, — no more all that our eyes can see of her — though when
they have seen her, what else they shall ever see is but dry
stubble after clover-grass — is to be matched with the flock
of unspeakable virtues laid up delightfully in that best-
builded fold. But, indeed, as we can better consider the
I sun's beauty by marking how he gilds these waters and
mountains than by looking upon his own face, too glorious
for our weak eyes ; so it may be our conceits — not able to
\ bear her sun-staining excellency— will better weigh it by her
works upon some meaner subject employed. And, alas, who
can better witness that than we, whose experience is
grounded upon feehng ? Hath not the only love of her made
us, being silly ignorant shepherds, raise up our thoughts
above the ordinary level of the world, so as great clerks do
not disdain our conference? Hath not the desire to seem
* His — the neuter possessive "its" was not in use in Sidney's time.
ARCADIA.— Book I.
worthy in her eyes made us, when others were sleeping, to sit
viewing the course of the heavens ; when others were running
at base,* to run over learned writings ; when others mark
their sheep, we to mark ourselves? Hath not she thrown ,
reason upon our desires, and, as it were, given eyes unto
Cupid ? Hath in any, but in her, love-fellowship maintained
friendship between rivals and beauty taught the beholders
chastity ?"
He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bade him
stay and look, and so they both perceived a thing which
floated, drawing nearer and nearer to the bank, but rather
by the favourable working of the sea than by any self-
industry. They doubted a while what it should be, till it
was cast up even hard before them, at which time they fully",
saw that it was a man. Whereupon, running for pity sake
unto him, they found his hands (as it should appear, con-
stanter friends to his life than his memory) fast griping upon
the edge of a square small coffer which lay all under his
breast ; else in himself no show of life, so as the board seemed
to be but a bier to carry him a-land to his sepulchre. So
drew they up a young man of so goodly shape and well-^
pleasing favour that one would think death had in him a \
lovely countenance, and that, though he were naked, naked-
ness was to him an apparel. That sight increased their
compassion, and their compassion called up their care, so
that, lifting his feet above his head, making a great deal of
salt water come out of his mouth, they laid him upon some
of their garments, and fell to rub and chafe him, till they
brought him to recover both breath, the servant, and warmth,
the companion of living. At length, opening his eyes, he
* The prisoner' s-base of our present schoolboys.
" Lads more like to run
The country ^^j-^."—Shaks. Cymbeline, act v. sc. 3.
6 ARCADIA.— Book I.
gave a great groan (a doleful note, but a pleasant ditty, for
by that they found not only life, but strength of life in him).
They therefore continued on their charitable office until, his
spirits being well returned, he, without so much as thanking
them for their pains, gat up, and, looking round about to the
uttermost limits of his sight, and crying upon the name of
P yrocles , nor seeing nor hearing cause of comfort, " What,"
said he, " and shall Musidorus live after Pyrocles' destruc-
tion ?" Therewithal he offered wilfully to cast himself again
into the sea ; but they ran unto him, and pulling him
back, then too feeble for them, by force stickled*, that un-
natural fray. " I pray you," said he, " honest rnen, what
-iuch right have you in me as not to suffer me to do with
myself what I list ; and what policy have you to bestow a
benefit where it is counted an injury ?" They hearing him
speak in Greek, which was their natural language, became
the more tender-hearted towards him ; and considering by
his calling and looking that the loss of some dear friend was
great cause of his sorrow, told^him they were poor men that
were bound, by course of humanity, to prevent so great a
mischief, and that they v/ished him, if opinion of some body's
perishing bred such desperate anguish in him, that he should
be comforted by his own proof, who had lately escaped as
apparent danger as any might be. " No, no," said he, " it is
not for me to attend so high a blissfulness ; but, since you
take care of me, I pray you find means that some bark may
be provided, that will go out of the haven, that if it be
possible we may find the body — far, far too precious food for
fishes ; and for the hire," said he, " I have within this
* Stickled. A stickler was an umpire or arbitrator. So in Troilus
and Cressida, act v. sc. 8, night is made, stickier-like, to separate
the armies ; and Dryden, in his eulogy on Cromwell, says, st. 41 —
" Our former chiefs, like sticklers of the war,
First sought to inflame the passions, then to poise."
ARCADIA.— Book L 7
casket of value sufficient to content them." Claius presently
went to a fisherman, and having agreed with him, and pro-
vided some apparel for the naked stranger, he embarked,
and the shepherds with him, and were no sooner gone
beyond the mouth of the haven, but that some way into the
sea they might discern, as it were, a stain of the water's
colour, and by times some sparks and smoke mounting
thereout. But the young man no sooner saw it, but that,
beating his breast, he cried that there was the beginning of
his ruin, intreating them to bend their course as near unto
it as they could, telling how that smoke was but a small relic
of a great fire which had driven both him and his friend
rather to commit themselves to the cold mercy of the sea
than to abide the hot cruelty of the.iire ; and that, therefore,
though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was, if
any where, in that course to be met withal. They steered,
therefore, as near thitherward as they could ; but when they
came so near as their eyes were full masters of the object,
they saw a sight full of piteous strangeness — a ship, or rather
the carcass of the ship, or rather some few bones of the
carcass, hulling* there, part broken, part burned, part
drowned : death having used more than one dart to that
destruction. About it floated great store of very rich things,
and many chests which might promise no less. And amidst
the precious things were a number of dead bodies, which
likewise did not only testify both elements' violence, but that
the chief violence was grown of human inhumanity; for their
bodies were full of grisly wounds, and their blood had, as it
were, filled the wrinkles of the sea's visage, which it seemed
the sea would not wash away, that it might witness it is not
always his fault when we do condemn his cruelty. In sum,
a defeat, where the conquered kept both field and spoil ; a
* Hulling, floating lazily to and fro.
8 ARCADIA.— Book I.
shipwreck without storm or ill-footing ; and a waste of fire in
the midst of the water.
But a httle way off they saw the mast, whose proud height
now lay along, like a widow having lost her mate of whom
she held her honour ; but upon the mast they saw a young
man, at least if he were a man, bearing show of about eigh-
teen years of age, who sat as on horse-back, having nothing
upon him but his shirt, which, being wrought with blue silk
and gold, had a kind of resemblance to the sea, on which
the sun, then near his western home, did shoot some of his
beams. His hair, which the young men of Greece used to
wear very long, was stirred up and down with the wind,
which seemed to have a sport to play with it, as the sea had
to kiss his feet ; himself full of admirable beauty, set forth
by the strangeness both of his seat and gesture ; for, holding
his head up full of unmoved majesty, he held a sword aloft
with his fair arm, which often he waved about his crown, as
though he would threaten the world in that extremity. But
the fishermen, when they came so near him that it was time
to throw out a rope, by which hold they might draw him,
their simplicity bred such amazement, and their amazement
such superstition, that, as they went under sail by him, they
held up their hands and made their prayers. Which when
Musidorus saw, though he were almost as much ravished
with joy as they with astonishment, he leapt to the mariner,
and took the cord out of his hand, and, saying, " Dost thou
live, and art well ?"' who answered, " Thou canst tell best,
since most of my well-being stands in thee," threw it out ;
but already the ship was passed beyond Pyrocles, and there-
fore Musidorus could do no more but persuade the mariners
to cast about again, assuring them that he was but a man,
although of most divine excellencies, and promising great
rewards for their pains.
ARCADIA.— Book I. ii
And now they were already come upon the stays,* when
one of the sailors descried a galley which came with sails
and oars directly in the chase of them, and straight perceived
it was a well-known pjrate, who hunted, not only for goods,
but for bodies of men, which he employed either to be his
galley-slaves or to sell at the best market ; which when the
master understood, he commanded forthwith to set on all
the canvas they could and fly homeward, leaving in that
sort poor PyrocleSjSOjriear^to be rescued. But what did not
Musidorus say ? What did he not offer to persuade them to
venture the fight? But fear, standing at the gates of their
ears, put back all persuasions ; so that he had nothing where-
with to accompany Pyrocles but his eyes, nought to succour
him but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting
a long look that way, he saw the galley leave the pursuit of
them and turn to take up the spoils of the other wreck ; and,
lastly, he might well see them lift up the young man ; and,
" Alas !" said he to himself, " dear Pyrocles, shall that body
of thine be enchained? Shall those victorious hands of thine
be commanded to base offices ? Shall virtue become a slave}
to those that be slaves to viciousness ? Alas, better had it
been thou hadst ended nobly thy noble days. What death]
is so evil as unworthy servitude ?" But that opinion soon
ceased when he saw the galley setting upon another ship,
which held long and strong fight with her ; for then he
began afresh to fear the life of his friend, and to wish well to
the pirates, whom before he hated, lest in their ruin he might
* That which hinders the motion of the ship.
" Our whole fleete in we got ; in whose receipt
Our ships lay anchor'd close : nor needed we
Feare harm on any j/rt/>j". " — Chapman, Homer, Odyss. bk. x.
*'Our stale ship Echeneis {Echinus^ sea hedge-hog), Trebius Niger
saith, is a foot long and five fingers thick, and that oftentimes it
staieth a ship." — Holland, Plinie, bk. ix. ch. 25.
8 ARCADIA.— Book I.
perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the haven
that they absented his ej^es from beholding the issue ; where
being entered, he could procure neither them nor any other
as then to put themselves into the sea ; so that, being as full
of sorrow for being unable to do anything as void of counsel
how to do anything, besides that sickness grew something
upon him, the honest shepherds Strephon and Claius — who,
being themselves true friends, did the more perfectly judge
the justness of his sorrow — advised him that he should miti-
gate somewhat of his woe, since he had gotten an amend-
ment in fortune, being come from assured persuasion of his
death to have no cause to despair of his life, as one that had
lamented the death of his sheep should after know they were
but strayed, would receive pleasure, though readily he knew
not where to find them.
" Now, sir," said they, " thus for ourselves it is : we are, in
profession, but shepherds, and, in this country of Laconia,
little better than strangers, and, therefore, neither in skill'nor
ability of power greatly to stead you. But what we can pre-
sent unto you is this : Arcadia, of which country we are, is
but a little way hence ; and even upon the next confines
there dwelleth a gentleman, by name Ka|ander, who vouch-
safeth much favour unto us ; a man who for his hospitality
is so much haunted* that no news stir but come to his ears ;
for his upright dealing so beloved of his neighbours that he
hath many ever ready to do him their uttermost service,
and, by the great goodwill our Prince bears him, may soon
obtain the use of his name and credit, which hath a principal
sway, not only in his own Arcadia, but in all these countries
of Peloponnesus ; and, which is worth all, all these things
give him not so much power as his nature gives him will to
benefit, so that it seems no music is so sweet to his ear as
* Hatmted, frequented, visited.
ARCADIA.— Book I. ii
deserved thanks. To him we will bring you, and there you /
may recover again your health, without which you cannot be
able to make any diligent search for your friend, and, there-
fore, you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort
of courtesy and ease of wise counsel shall not be wanting."
- Musidorus — who, besides he was merely [totally] unac-
quainted in the country, had his wits astonished with sorrow
— gave easy consent to that from which he saw no reason to
disagree ; and therefore, defraying* the mariners with a ring
bestowed upon them, they took their journey together through
Laconia, Claius and Strephon by course carrying his chest
for him, Musidorus only bearing in his countenance evident
marks of a sorrowful mind supported with a weak body ; which
they perceiving, and knowing that the violence of sorrow
is not, at the first, to be striven withal — being like a mighty
beast, sooner tamed with following than overthrown by with-
standing — they gave way unto it for that day and the next, *
never troubling him, either with asking questions or finding
fault with his melancholy, but rather fitting to his dolour
dolorous discourses of their own and other folk's misfortune ;
which speeches, though they had not a lively entrance to his
senses, shut up in sorrow, yet, like one half asleep, he took
hold of much of the matters spoken unto him, so as a man
may say, ere sorrow was aware, they made his thoughts bear
away something else beside his own sorrow, which wrought
so in him that at length he grew content to mark their
speeches, then to marvel at such wit in shepherds, 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 heavenly floor against the \
* Paying their costs. " Enforced to bestow in gifts those things
that were given us by well-dispos'd people to defray our charges."
— Hakluyt, Voyages, vol. i. p. 60.
12 ARCADIA.— Book 1.
coming of the sun, the nightingales, striving one with the
other which could in most dainty variety recount their wrong-
caused sorrow, made them put off their sleep ; and, rising
from under a tree, which that night had been their pavilion,
they went on their journey, which by-and-by welcomed
Musidorus' eyes with delightful prospects. ' There were hills
which garnished their proud heights with stately trees ;
humble valleys whose base estate seemed comforted with the
refreshing of silver rivers ; meadows enamelled with all sorts
of eye-pleasing flowers ; thickets which, bemg hned with
most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to, by the cheerful
disposition of many well-tuned birds ; each pasture stored
with sheep, feeding with sober security, while the pretty
lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dams' comfort : here
a shepherd's boy piping,* as though he should never be old ;
there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing : and
it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, and
her hands kept time to her voice-music. As for the houses
of the country — for many houses came under their eye— they
were all scattered, no two being one by the other, and yet
not so far off as that it barred mutual succour ; a show, as it
were, of an accompanable [companionable] solitariness, and •
of a civil wildness.
"I pray you," said Musidorus, then first unsealing his long-
silent hps, "what countries be these we pass through, which
are so diverse in show, the one wanting no store, the other
having no store but of want ?"
"The country," answered Claius, "where you were cast
ashore, and now are passed through, is Laconia, not so poor by
* Piping — " On pipes made of greene come." — Chaucer,
" And in the shape of Corin sat all day
Playing on pipes of corn."
— Shaks. Midsummer-Night's Dream, act ii. sc. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 13
the barrenness of the soil — though in itself not passing fertile
— as by a civil war, which, being these two years within the
bowels of that estate, between the gentlemen and the pea-
sants — by them named Helots— ;hath in this sort, as it
were, disfigured the face of nature and made it so unhospit-
able as now you have found it ; the towns neither of the one
side nor the other willingly opening their gates to strangers, y
nor strangers willingly entering, for fear of being mistaken.
" But this country, where now you set your foot, is Arcadia ;
and even hard by is the house of Kalajider, whither we lead
you. This country being thus decked wqth peace, and the
child of peace, good husbandry, these houses you see so
scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the com-
modity of their sheep, and therefore, in the division of the
Arcadian estate, are termed shepherds — a happy people,
wanting little, because they desire not much." "^
"What cause, then," said Musidorus, "made you leave this
sweet life and put yourself in yonder unpleasant and dangerous
realm?" "Guarded with poverty," answered Strephon, "and
guided with love." " But now," said Claius, "since it hath
pleased you to ask anything of us, whose baseness is such as
the very knowledge is darkness, give us leave to know some-
thing of you and of the young man you so much lament, that
at least we may be the better instructed to inform Kalander,
and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment."
(^Musidorus, according to the agreement between Pyrocles and
him tp alter their names, answered that he called himself
Palladius, and his friend Daiphantus. | "But, till I have him
again," said he, " I am indeed nothing, and therefore my
story is of nothing. His entertainment, since "so "good a
man he is, cannot be so low as I account my estate ; and, in
sum, the sum of all his courtesy may be to help me by some
means to seek my friend."
14 ARCADIA.— Book I.
They perceived he was not wilHng to open himself further,
and therefore, without further questioning, brought him to
the house ; about which they might see (with fit consideration
both of the air, the prospect, and the nature of the ground)
all such necessary additions to a great house as might well
show Kalander kneNV that provision is the foundation ^f
hospitality, and thrift the fuel of magnificence. The house
itself was built of fair and strong stone, not affecting so much
any extraordinary kind of fineness as an honourable repre-
senting of a firm stateliness ; the lights, doors, and stairs
rather directed to the use of the guest than to the eye of the
artificer, and yet as the one chiefly heeded, so the other not
neglected ; each place handsome without curiosity, and
homely without loathsomeness ; not so dainty as not to be
trod on, nor yet slubbered up* with good fellowship ; all more
lasting than beautiful, but that the consideration of the
exceeding lastingness made the eye believe it was exceeding
beautiful ; the servants, not so many in number as cleanly
in apparel and serviceable in behaviour, testifying even in
their countenances that their master took as well care to be
served as of them that did serve. One of them was forthwith
ready to welcome the shepherds, as men who, though they^
were poor, their master greatly favoured ; and understanding
by them that the young man with them was to be much
accounted of, for that they had seen tokens of more than com-
mon greatness, howsoever now eclipsed with fortune, he ran to
his master, who came presently forth, and pleasantly welcoming
the shepherds, but especially applying him to Musidorus,
Strephon privately told him all what he knew of him, and
particularly that he found this stranger was loth to be known.
* Soiled, covered with dirt by frequent footsteps. Slabber, slubber^
limosus, muddy, slippery. "The breve (of Pope Julius) appeared
slubbered by often handling." — State Trials Hen. VIII. anno 19.
ARCADIA,— Book L 15
" No,-' said Kalander, speaking aloud, " I am no herald to
inquire of men's pedigrees ; it sufficeth me if I know their
virtu esy which, if this young man's face be not a false witness,
do better apparel his mind than you have done his body." ^
While he was thus speaking, there came a boy, in show like
a merchant's prentice, who, taking Strephon by the sleeve,
delivered him a letter, written jointly both to him and Claius
from Urania ; which they no sooner had read, but that with
short leave-taking of Kalander, who quickly guessed and
smiled at the matter, and once again, though hastily, recom-
mending the young man unto him, they went away, leaving
Musidorus even loth to part with them, for the good conver-
sation he had of them, and obligation he accounted himself
tied in unto them ; and therefore, they delivering his chest
unto him, he opened it, and would have presented them with
two very rich jewels, but they absolutely refused them, telling
him that they were more than enough rewarded m the knowing
of him, and without hearkening unto a reply, like men whose
hearts disdained all desires but one, gat speedily away, as if
the letter had brought wings to make them fly. But by that
sight Kalander soon judged that his guest was of no mean
calling ; and therefore the more respectfully entertaining him,
Musidorus found his sickness, which the fight, the sea, and
late travel had laid upon him, grow greatly, so that fearing
some sudden accident, he delivered the__chest to Kalander,
which was full of most precious stones, gorgeously and
cunningly set in divers manners, desiring him he would
keep those trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much
as was needful to find out and redeem a young man naming
himself Daiphantus, as then in the hands of Laconian pirates.
But Kalander seeing him faint more and more, with careful
speed conveyed him to the most commodious lodging in his
house ; where, being possessed with an extreme burning fever,
i6 ARCADIA.— Book I.
he continued some while with no great hope of life ; but
youth at length got the victory of sickness, so that in six
weeks the excellency of his returned beauty was a credible'
ambassador of his health, to the great joy of Kalander, who,
as in this time he had by certain friends of his, that dwelt
near the sea in Messenia, set forth a ship and a galley to seek
and succour Daiphantus, so at home did he omit nothing
which he thought might either profit or gratify Palladius.
For, having found in him (besides his bodily gifts, beyond
the degree of admiration) by daily discourses, which he
rdelighted himself to have with him, a mind of most excellent
composition, a piercing wit, quite void of ostentation, high-
erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy, an eloquence
as sweet in the uttering as slow to come to the uttering, a
behaviour so noble as gave a majesty to adversity, and all
: in a man whose age could not be above one-and-twenty
f years, the good old man was even enamoured with a fatherly
love towards him, or rather became his servant by the bonds
such virtue laid upon him ; once, he acknowledged himself so
to be, by the badge of diligent attendance.
But Palladius having gotten his health, and only staying
there to be in place where he might hear answer of the ships
set forth, Kalander one afternoon led him abroad to a well-
arrayed ground he had behind his house, which he thought
to show him before his going, as the place himself, more than
in any other, delighted. The backside* of the house was
neither field, garden, nor orchard, or rather it was both
field, garden, and orchard ; for as soon as the descending of
the stairs had delivered them down, they came into a place
cunningly set with trees of the most taste-pleasing fruits ;
but scarcely they had taken that into their consideration, but
that they were suddenly stepped into a delicate green ; of
* A yard or court behind a house.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 17
each side of the green a thicket, and behind the thickets
again new beds of flowers, which being under the trees, the
trees were t'o them a pavihon, and they to the trees a mosaical
floor, so that it seemed Art therein would needs be dehghtful, ^
by counterfeiting Error, and making order in confusion..
Hence Palladius was led towards a fairpond, whose shaking
crystal was a perfect mirror to all other beauties, and near
it was a fine fountain, made thus : a figure of a naked
Venus, of white marble, wherein the graver had used such
cunning that the natural blue veins of the marble were
framed in fit places to set forth the beautiful veins of her
body ;* at her breast was her babe ^neas, who seemed,
having begun to suck, to leave that to look upon her fair
eyes, which smiled at the babe's folly, meanwhile the breast
running. Hard by was a house of pleasure, adorned with
delightful pictures, which Kalander described, and then,
sometimes casting his eyes to the pictures, thus spake : —
" This country Arcadia, among all the provinces of Greece,
hath ever been had in singular reputation, partly for the
sweetness of the air, and other natural benefits, but princi-
pally for the well-tempered minds of the people, who, finding
that the shining title of glory, so much affected by other
nations, doth indeed help little to the happiness of life, are
the only people which, as by their justice and providence,
give neither cause nor Jiope to their neighbours to annoy
them ; so are they not stirred with false praise to trouble
other's quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of
their own lives in raveningf that their posterity should long
after say they had done so. Even the Muses seem to approve
* Euphuistic and poetical, but only miraculously possible.
+ Ravening, plundering, whence our "raven." "So y* his mou-
ablegoodys were spoyled and raueued ZLxnong y® kynges offycers." —
Fabyan, vol. i. c. 237.
C
18 ARCADIA.— Book 1.
their good determination by choosing this country for their
chief repairing place, and by bestowing their perfections so
largely here, that the very shepherds have 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 reigneth this prince whose picture you
see, by name Basilius ; a prince of sufficient skill to govern
so quiet a country, where the good minds of the former
princes had set down good laws, and the well bringing up of
the people doth serve as a most sure bond to hold them.
" He, being already well stricken in years, married a young
princess, named Gynecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of
'notable beauty, as by her picture you see ; a woman of great
wit, and in truth of more princely virtues than her husband ;
of most unspotted chastity, but of so working a mind, and so
vehement spirits, as a man may say it was happy she took a
good course, for otherwise it would have been terrible.
" Of these two are brought to the world two daughters, so
beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable
creatures, that we may think they were born to show that
Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much soever some
men, sharp-witted only in evil speaking, have sought to
disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela, by many men
not deemed inferior to her sister. For my part, when I marked
them both, methought there was (if at least such perfections
may receive the word of more) more sweetness in Philoclea,
but more majesty in Pamela : methought love played in
Philoclea's eyes and threatened in Pamela's : methought
Philoclea's beauty only persuaded, but so persuaded as all
hearts must yield ; Pamela's beauty used violence, and such
violence as no heart could resist. And it seems that such
proportion is between their minds : Philoclea so bashful as
thougfh her excellencies had stolen into her before she was
ARCADIA.— Book I. 19
aware ; so humble that she will put all pride out of counten-
ance ; in sum, such proceeding as will stir hope, but teach
hope good manners ; — Pamela of high thoughts, who avoids
not jride with JiotJaiQwing her excellencies, but by making
that one of her excellencies to be voidof pride^; her mother's
wisdom, greatness, nobility, but (if I can guess aright) knit •
with a more constant temper.
" Now, then, our Basilius'being so publicly happy as to be a
princejand so happy in that happiness as to be a beloved prince,
and so in his private blessed as to have so excellent a wife, and
so over-excellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet
makes him 1 ; lorc spoken of than all these blessings. For, having
made a journey to Uelphos, and safely returned, within short
space he brake up his court and retired himself, his wife and
children, into a certain forest hereby, which he calleth his
desert ; wherein, besides an house appointed for stables, and
lodgings for certain persons of mean calling, who do all
household services, he hath builded two fine lodges ; in the
one of them himself remains with his younger daughter
Philoclea (which was the cause they three were matched
together in this picture), without having any other creature
living in that lodge with him. Which, though it be strange, yet
not so strange as the course he hath taken with the Princess
Pamela, whom he hath placed in the other lodge : but how
thinkyou accompanied? truly with none other but one Dametas,
the most arrant, doltish clown that I think ever was witliout /
the privilege of a bauble, with his wife_ Miso and daughter ^^-Z
Mopsa,^in whom no wit can devise anything, wherein they may
pleasurejher, but to exercise her patience, and to serve for a
foil of her perfections. This loutish clown is such that you
never saw so ill-favoured a vizar [countenance] ; his behaviour
such that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous ; and for his
apparel, even as I would wish him : Miso his wife, so hand-
C 2
JO ARCADIA.— Book I.
some a beldame that only her face and her splay-foot have
made her accused for a witch ; only one good point she hath,
that she observes decorum, having a froward mind, in _a
T'/retched bpdy^ , Between these two personages, who never
agreed in any humour but in disagreeing, is issued forth
mistress Mopsa, a fit woman to participate of both their
perfections.
" This Dametas the prince finds while hunting, and, like
other princes whose doings have been often smoothed
with good success, thinking nothing so absurd that they
cannot make honourable, brings with him, when the flatter-
ing courtiers had no sooner taken the prince's mind than
Dametas's silence grew wit, bluntness integrity, his beastly
ignorance virtuous simplicity ; and the prince, according to the
nature of great persons in love .with that he had done himself,
fancied that his weakness Avith his presence would much be
mended. And so^ like a creature of his own mak ing^e liked
him more and more ; and thus, havingjfirst^iven him the
office of principal herdman, lastly, since he took this strange
determination, he hath in a "mafme'r' purthe life_of himself
and his children into his hands. Which authority, like too
great a sail for so small a boat, doth so oversway poor
Dametas, that, if before he were a good fool in a chamber, he
might be allowed it now in a comedy ; so as I doubt me (I
fear me indeed) my Master will in the end, with his cost, find
Ithat his office is not to make men, but to use men as men are, no
more than a horse will be taught to hunt, or an ass to m.anage.
'' Thus much now that I have told you is nothing more than
in effect any Arcadian knows. But what moved him to this
strange solitariness hath been imparted, as I think, but to
one person living. Myself can conjecture, and indeed more
than conjecture, by this accident that I will tell you. I have
an only son, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing
ARCADIA.— Book 1.
for his own marriage, which I mean shortly shall be here
celebrated. This son of mine, while the prince kept his
court, was of his bed-chamber ; now, since the breaking up
thereof, returned home; and showed me, among other things
he had gathered, the copy which he had taken of a letter ;
which, when the prince had read, he had laid in a window,
presuming nobody durst look in his writings ; but my son
not only took a time to read it, but to copy it. In truth I
blamed Clitophon for the curiosity, which made him break his
duty in such a kind, whereby kings' secrets are subject to be
revealed; but, since it was done, I was content, to take so
much profit as to know it." This letter is froni "a noble-
man of his country, named Philanax, appointed by
the prince regent in this time oriiis retiring, and most
worthy so to be : for there lives ne man whose excellent
wit more simply embraceth integrity, beside his unfeigned
love to his master, wherein never yet any could make question,
saving whether he loved Basilius or the prince better ; a rare
temper, while most men either servilely yield to all appetites,
or with an obstinate austerity, looking to that they fancy good,
in effect neglect the prince's person. This, then, being the
man, whom of all other, and most worthy, the prince chiefly
loves, it should seem (for more than the letter I have not to
guess by) that the prince, upon his tlfcurn from Delphos
(Philanax then lying sick), had written unto him his deter-
mination, rising, as evidently appears, upon some oracle he
had there received."
To this Philanax sent a reply, urging that \¥isiiDm and
Virtue.be the only destinies appointed for man to follow, and" y
that the heavenly powers should be reverenced, not searched j
into, and their mercies rather by prayers to be sought than '
their hidden counsels by curiosity ; that soothsayings, since
after all the gods have left us to ourselves sufficientguides,are
^2 ARCADIA,— Book I.
nothing but fancy, wherein there must either be vanity or
infaUibleness, and so either not to be respected or not to be
, prevented,* V'Therefore he counselled Basilius to continue
'"his government, which had been good -to his people, and
which his neighbours had found not so hurtlessly strong
that they thought it better to rest in his friendship than make
a new trial of his enmity. For his second resolution, of con-
fining his daughters, so as to suffer no unworthy suitor to
come to them, and, indeed, to keep them both unmarried
— that were to kill the joy of posterity ; strictness is not "^
the way to preserve virtue ; he had better leave women's
minds the most untamed that way of any ; for no cage will
please a bird, and every 'dog is the fiercer for tying. As for
, giving Pamela to the care of the clown Dametas, it was folly ;
^ for fools can hardly be virtuous. "He cannot be good that
knows not why he's good." These reasons he (Philanax)
humbly submitted to the gracious consideration of Basilius,
beseeching him again to stand wholly on his own virtue.
''' "By the matter of this letter you may perceive that the
cause of all hath been the vanity which possesseth many,
who, making a perpetual mansion of this poor baiting-place
of man's life, are desirous to know the certainty of things to
. conie, whereiiLth^re .^s_nothing_so_certa^^
uncertainty. But what in particular points the oracle was, in
faith 1 know not ; neither Philanax himself distinctly knew. But
this experience shows us that Basilius' judgment, CQimpted
with a prince's fortune, hath rather heard thaja_fDliowed the
wise {as Itake it) counsel of Philanax. For, having left the
stern of his government, with much amazement to the people,
among whom many strange bruits t are received for current,
and with some appearance of danger in respect of the
* This is most admirably and closely argued. f Rumours.
ARCADIA.— Book I.
valiant Amphialus his nephew, and much envying the ambi
tious number of the nobihty against Philanax, to see Philanax
so advanced — though, to speak simply, he deserved more
than as many of us as there be in Arcadia— the prince
himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as I told you, not
sticking plainly to confess that he means not, while he
breathes, that his daughters shall have any husband, but
keep them thus solitary with him ; where" he gives no other
body leave to visit him at any time but a certain priest, who
being excellent in poetry, he makes him write out such
things as he best likes, he being no less delightful in con-
versation than needful for devotion, and about twenty
specified shepherds, in whom, some for exercises, and some
for eclogues, he taketh greater recreation. And now you
know as much as myself." ' ! -?
Kalander by this time discovered that it was fitter time to
pay with their suppers the duty they owed to their stomachs
than to break the air with idle discourses ; for more wit
he had learned of Homer, never to entertain either hosts
or guests with long speeches till the mouth of hunger be
stopped. So withal he atose, leading Palladius, who
assured him that he had been more fed by his discourses
than he could be by the skilfullest trenchermen of Media, to
the parlour where they used to sup.
Being come to the supping-place, one of Kalander's
servants rbunded in his ear,* at which, his colour changing,
* '^Rounded in his ear," i.e., whispered secretly to him. Thus,
in King John, act ii. sc. ii. : —
' ' And France, whose armour conscience buckled on,
Whom zeal and charity brought to the field
As God's own' soldier, roiatded in the ear
With that same purpose-changer."
And Lyly, in his "Life and Times," London, 1715, says: '^I rounded
ARCADIA.— Book I.
J retired himself into his chamber, commanding his men
diligently to wait upon Palladius, and to excuse his absence
with some necessary business he had presently to despatch ;
which they accordingly did, for some few days forcing
themselves to let no change appear, but, though they framed
their countenances never so cunningly, Palladius perceived
there was some ill-pleasing accident fallen out. Whereupon,
being again set alone at supper, he called to the steward, and
desired him to tell him the matter of his sudden alteration ;
who, after some trifling excuse^, in the end confessed unto
him that his master had received news that his son» before
the day of his near marriage, chanced to be at a battle
which was to be fought between the gentlemen of Lace-
dsemon and the Helots, who, winning the victory, he was
there made prisoner, going to deliver a friend of his taken
prisoner by the Helots ; that the poor young gentleman had
offered great ransom for his life, but that the hate those
peasants conceived against all gentlemen was such, that
every hour he was to look for nothing but some cruel death ;
which hitherunto had only been delayed by the captain's
vehement deahng for him, who seemed to have a heart of
more manly pity than the rest.
But Palladius could scarce hear out his tale with patience,
so was his heart torn in pieces with compassion of the case,
liking of Kalander's noble behaviour, kindness for his respect
to himward, and desire to find some remedy, besides the
image of h'is dearest friend Dafphantus, whom he judged to
suSer either a like or worse fortune. Therefore, rising from
the board, he desired the steward to tell him particularly the
the clerk in his ear, and told him I would give him five shillings to
hold the woman in chat till I came again, for I had a writing
concerned her" (p. 42).
ARCADIA.— Book L 25
ground and event of this accident, because, by knowledge of
many circumstances, there might perhaps some way of help
be opened. Whereunto the steward easily in this sort
condescended.
" My lord," said he, " when our good king Basilius, with
better success than expectation, took to wife, even in his
more than decaying years, the fair young Princess Gynecia,
there came with her a young lord, cousin-german to herself,
named Argalus, led hither partly with the love and honour of
his noble kinswoman, partly with the humour of youth, which
ever thinks that good whose goodness he sees not And in
this court he received so good increase of knowledge that,
after some years spent, he so manifested a most virtuous
mind in all his actions that Arcadia gloried such a plant
was transported unto them, being a gentleman indeed most
rarely accomplished, excellently learned, but without all vain
glory, friendly without factiousness ; valiant, so as, for my
part, I think the earth hath no man that hath done more
heroical^cts than he ; howsoever now of late the same flies
of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long
done of our noble Prince Amphialus, who, indeed, in our
parts is only accounted likely to match him ; but I say, for
my part, I think no man, for valour of mind and ability ol
body, to be preferred, if equalled, to Argalus. My master's
son Clitophon — whose loss gives the cause to this discourse,
and yet gives me cause to begin with Argalus, since his loss
proceeds from Argalus — being a young gentleman, as of great
birth, being our king's sister's son, so truly of good nature,
and one that can see good and love it, haunted more the
company of this worthy Argalus than of any other ; so as if
there were not a friendship — which is so rare as it is to be
'^oubted whether it be athing indeed, or but a word — at least
there was such a liking and friendliness as hath brought
26 ARCADIA.— Book 1.
forth the effects which you shall hear. About two years
since it so fell out that he brought him to a great lady's
house, sister to my master, who had with her her only
daughter, the fair Parthenia ; fair indeed, fame I think itself
daring not to call any fairer, if it be not Helen, queen of
Corinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia ; and
that which made her fairness much the fairer was that it was
but a fair embassador of a most fair mind, full of wit, and a
wit which delighted more to judge itself than to show itself,
her speech being as rare as precious, her silence without
sullenness, her modesty without affectation, her shamefast-
ness without ignorance ; in sum, one that to praise well one
must first set down with himself what it is to be excellent,
for so she is.*
" I think you think that these perfections meeting could not
choose but find one another, and delight in that they found ;
for likeness of manners is likely in reason to draw liking with
affection — men's actions do not always cross with reason. To
be short, it did so indeed. They loved, although for a while
the fire thereof — hope's wings being cut off— were blown by
the bellows of despair, upon this occasion : —
" There had been, a good while before, and so continued, a
suitor to this same lady, a great nobleman, though of
Laconia, yet near neighbour to Parthenia's mother, named
Demagoras ; a man mighty in riches and power, and proud
thereof, stubbornly stout, loving nobody but himself, and,
for his own delight's sake, Parthenia ; and, pursuing
vehemently his desire, his riches had so gilded over all his
other imperfections that the old lady, though contrary to
my lord her brother's mind, had given her consent, and,
* This passage, though involved, deserves to be carefully read,
as being especially Sidneian.
ARCADIA,— Book I. 27
using a mother's authority upon her fair daughter, had made
her yield thereunto, not because she hked her choice, but
because her obedient mind had not yet taken upon it to make
choice ; and the day of their assurance drew near when my
young lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchance
principally to see so rare a sight as Parthenia^ by all well-
judging eyes was judged.
" But, though few days were before the time of assurance
appointed, yet Love, that saw he had a great journey to make
in short time, hasted so himself that, before her word could
tie her to Demagoras, her heart hath vowed her to Argalus,
with so grateful a receipt in mutual affection that, if she
desired above all things to have Argalus, Argalus feared
nothing but to miss Parthenia. And now Parthenia had ^
learned both liking and misliking, loving and loathing, and
out of passion began to take the authority of judgment ; in-
somuch, that, when the time came that Demagoras, full of
proud joy, thought to receive the gift of herself, she, with
v/ords of resolute refusal, though with tears, showing she
was sorry she must refuse, assured her mother she would first
be bedded in her grave than wedded to Demagoras. The
change was no more strange than unpleasant to the mother,
who, being determinately, lest I should say of a great lady
vv'ilfully, bent to marry her to Demagoras, tried all ways
which a witty* and hard-hearted mother could use upon so
humble a daughter, in whom the only resisting power was
love. But the more she assaulted the more she taught
Parthenia to defend, and the more Parthenia defended the
more she made her mother obstinate in the assault, who at
length finding that Argalus, standing between them, was it that
most eclipsed her Mection from shining upon Demagoras,
* Witty — Full of design and resource, sharp-witted.
\
re^^-
28 ARCADIA,— Book I.
she sought all means how to remove him, so much the more
as he manifested himself an unremovable suitor to her
daughter, first by employing him in as many dangerous
enterprises as ever the evil step-mother Juno recommended
to the famous Hercules ; but the more his virtue was tried
the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to over-
throw him did set him up upon the height of honour. Lastly,
by treasons Demagoras and she would have made away
Argalus ; but he with providence and courage so passed over
all that the mother took such a spiteful grief at it that her
heart brake withal, and she died.
" But then Demagoras, assuring himself that now Parthenia
was her own she would never be his, and receiving as much
by her own determinate answer, not more desiring his own
happiness than envying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow
eyes even ready to enjoy the perfection of his desires,
strengthening his conceit with all the mischievous counsels
which disdained love and envious pride could give unto him,
the wicked wretch, taking a time that Argalus was gone to
his country to fetch some of his principal friends to honour
the marriage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented
unto, — the wicked Demagoras, I say, desiring to speak with
her, with unmerciful force, her weak arms in vain resisting,
rubbed all over her face a most horrible poispn, the effect
whereof was such that never leper looked more ugly thaiLste
did ; which done, having his men and horses ready, departed
away in spite of her servants, as ready to revenge as could
be in such an unexpected mischief. But the abominableness
of this fact being come to my lord Kalander, he made such
means, both by our king's intercession and his own, that by
the king and senate of Laced^mon Demagoras was, upon
pain of death, banished the country ; who, hating the punish-
ment where he should have hated the fault, joined himself
ARCADIA.— Book I. 29
with all the power he could make unto the Helots, lately in
rebellion against that state ; and they, glad to have a man of
such authority among them, made him their general, and
under him have committed divers the most outrageous
villainies that a base multitude, full of desperate revenge,
can imagine.
" But, within a while after this pitiful fact* committed upon
Parthenia, Argalus returned (poor gentleman !), having her
fair image in his heart, and already promising his eyes the
uttermost of his felicity, when they, nobody else daring to
tell it him, were the first messengers to themselves of their
own misfortune. I mean not to move passions with telling
you the grief of both when he knew her ; for at first he did
not, nor at first knowledge could possibly have virtue's aid
so ready as not even weakly to lament the loss of such a y
jewel ; so much the more as that skilful men in that art
assured it was unrecoverable. But, within a while, truth of
love (which still held the first face in his memory), a virtuous
constancy, and even a delight to be constant, faith given, and \
inward worthin.£Ss shining through the foulest mists, took so
full hold oFthe noble Argalus that, not only in such comfort
which witty arguments may bestow upon adversity, but even
with the most abundant kindness that an eye-ravished lover
can express, he laboured both to drive the extremity of
sorrow froinher, and to hasten the celebration of their mar-
riage ; whereunto he unfeignedly showed himself no less
cheerfully earnest than if she had never been disinherited ot
that goodly portion which nature had so liberally bequeathed
unto her, and for that cause deferred his intended revenge
upon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her
presence, showing more humble serviceableness and joy to
content her than ever before.
* Factum, something done, an act or deed.
30 ARCADIA.— Book I.
" But as he gave this rare example, not to be hoped for of any-
other but of another Argalus, so, of the other side, she took
as strange a course in affection ; for, where she desired to
enjoy him more than to Hve, yet did she overthrow both her
"^^ own desire and his, and in no sort would, yield to marry him,
with a strange encounter of love's affects and effects, that he,
by an affection sprung from excessive_beauty, should delight
in horriblfeioulness, and she of a vehement desire to have
him should kindly build a resolution never to have him ; for
truth it is, that so in heart she loved him as she could not
find in her heart he should be tied to what was unworthy of
his presence.
" Argalus with a most heavy heart still pursuing his desire,
she, fixed of mind to avoid further intreaty and to fly all
company — which, even of him, grew unpleasant to her — one
night she siP.le_away, but whither as yet it is unknown, or
indeed what is become of her.
" Argalus sought her long and in many places ; at length,
despairing to find her, and the more he despaired the more
enraged, weary of his life, but first determining to be re-
venged of Demagoras, he went alone disguised into the chie
town held by the Helots, where, coming into his presence,
guarded about by many of his soldiers, he could delay his
fury no longer for a fitter time, but setting upon him, in
despite of a great many that helped him, gave him divers
mortal wounds, and himself, no question, had been there
presently murdered, but that Demagoras himself desired he
might be kept alive, perchance with intention to feed his own
eyes with some cruel execution to be laid upon him : but
death came sooner than he looked for, yet having had
leisure to appoint his successor, a young man not long before
delivered out of the prison of the king of Lacedaemon, where
he should have suffered death for having slain the king's
ARCADIA.— Book I. 31
nephew ; but him he named, who at that time was absent
making roads upon the Lacedaemonians, but, being returned,
the rest of the Helots, for the great hking they conceived of
that young man, especially because they had none among
themselves to whom the others would yield, were content to
follow Demagoras's appointment. And well hath it succeeded
with him, he having since done things beyond the hope of'
the youngest heads, of whom I speak the rather, because he
hath hitherto preserved Argalus alive under pretence to have
him publicly, and with exquisite torments, executed after
the end of these wars, of which they hope for a soon and
prosperous issue.
"And he hath likewise hitherto kept my young lord
Clitophon alive, who, to redeem his friend, went with certain
other noblemen of Laconia, and forces gathered by them,
to besiege this young and new successor ; but he, issuing
out, to the wonder of all men, defeated the Laconians, slew
many of the noblemen, and took Clitophon prisoner. And
now, sir, though, to say the truth, we can promise ourselves
httle of their safeties while they are in the Helots' hands, I
have delivered all I understand touching the loss of my
lord's son and the cause thereof ; which, though it was not
necessary to Clitophon's case to be so particularly told, yet
the strangeness of it made me think it would not be unplea-
sant unto you."
Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passion-
ately delighted with hearing so strange an accident of a
knight so famous over the world as Argalus, with whom he
had himself a long desire to meet, so had fame poured a
noble emulation in him towards him.
But then, well bethinking himself, he called for armour,
desiring them to provide him of horse and guide ; and
armed, all saving the head, he went up to Kalander, whom he
32
ARCADIA.— Book I.
found lying upon the ground, having ever since banished
both sleep and food, as enemies to the mourning which
passion persuaded him was reasonable. But Palladius
raised him up, saying unto him : " No more, no more of this,
my lord Kalander, let us labmir to find before we lame nt the
loss. You know myself miss one, who, though he be not my
son, I would disdain the favour of life after him ; but, while
there is hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow make the
strength of it languish : take comfort, and good success will
follow." And with those words comfort seemed to lighten
in his eyes ; and that in his face and gesture was painted
victory. Once Kalander's spirits were so revived withal
that, receiving some sustenance, and taking a little rest, he
armed himself, and those few of his servants he had left
unsent, and so himself guided Palladius to the place upon the
frontiers, where already there were assembled between three
and four thousand men, all well disposed, for Kalander's
sake, to abide any peril ; but, Hke men disused with a long
peace, more determinate to do than skilful how to do.
Which Palladius soon perceiving, he desired to understand, as
much as could be delivered unto him, the estate of the Helots^.
And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the
affairs of Laconia, that they were a kind of people who
having been of old freemen and possessioners, the Lacedae-
monians had conquered. -them, and laid not only tribute, but
bondage upon them, which they had long borne, till of late
the LaG.ed^j»OTTians, through greediness^rowing more heavy
than they could bear, and through contempt less careful
how to make them bear, they had with a general consent,
rather springing by the generalness of the cause than of any
artificial practice, set themselves in arms, and, whetting their
courage with revenge, and grounding their resolution upon
despair, they had proceeded with unlooked-for success.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 33
having already taken divers towns and castles, with the t/
slaughter of many of the gentry ; for whom no sex nor age
could be accepted for an excuse. And that, although at the
first they had fought rather with beastly fury than any
soldierly discipline, practice had now made them comparable
to the best of the' Lacedaemonians, and more of late than
ever. Palladius having gotten his general knowledge of the /
party against whom, as he had already of the party for whom,
he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainly
that by plain force there was small appearance of helping
Clitophon ; but some device was to be taken in hand, wherein
no less discretion than valour was to be used. '^V/*V*Y'^ ^
Whereupon the counsel of the chief men was called, and
at last this way Palladius — who, by some experience, but
especially by reading histories, was acquainted with strata-
gems — invented, and was by all the rest approved, that all the
men there should dress themselves like the poorest sort of the
people in Arcadia, having no banners, but bloody shirts
hanged upon long staves, with some bad bagpipes instead of
drum and fife ; their armour they should, as well as might be,
cover, or at least make them look so rustily and ill-favouredly
as might well become such wearers ; and this the whole
number should do, saving two hundred of the best chosen
gentlemen for courage and strength, whereof Palladius him-
self would be one, who should have their arms chained,
and be put in carts like prisoners. This being performed
according to the agreement, they marched on towards the
town of Cardamila, where Clitophon was captive ; and being
come, two hours before sunset, within view of the walls, the
Helots already descrying their number, and beginning to
sound the alarum, they sent a cunning- fellow — so much the
cunninger as that he could mask it under rudeness — who,
v/ith such a kind of rhetoric as weeded out all flowers of
D
% ARCADIA.— Book I.
rhetoric, delivered unto the Helots assembled together that
they were country people of Arcadia, no less oppressed by
their lords, and no less desirous of liberty, than they, and
therefore had put themselves in the field, and had already,
besides a great number slain, taken nine or ten score
gentlemen prisoners, whom they had there well and fast
chained. Now, because they had no strong retiring place in
Arcadia, and were not yet of number enough to keep the
field against their prince's forces, they were come to them for
succour ; knowing that daily more and more of their quality
would flock unto them, but that in the meantime, lest their
prince should pursue them, or the Lacedaemonian king and
nobihty (for the likeness of the cause) fall upon them, they
desired that if there were not room enough for them in the
town, that yet they might encamp under the walls, and for
surety have their prisoners, who were such men as were able
to make their peace, kept within the town.
The Helots made but a short consultation, being glad that
their contagion had spread itself into Arcadia, and making
account that if the peace did not fall out between them and
their king, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts
of Greece ; besides their greediness to have so many gentle-
men in their hands, in whose ransoms they already meant to
have a share ; to which haste of concluding two things well
helped. The one, that their captain, with the wisest of them,
was at that time absent, about confirming or breaking the
peace with the state of Lacedsemon ; the second^ that over-
many good fortunes began to breed a proud recklessness in
them. Therefore, sending to view the camp, and finding that
by their speech they were Arcadians, with whom they had
had no war, never suspecting a private man's credit could
have gathered such a force, and that all other tokens
witnessed them to be of the lowest calling, besides the
ARCADIA.— Book L 35
chains upon the gentlemen, they granted not only leave for J
the prisoners, but for some others of the company, and to all,
that they might harbour under the walls. So opened they
the gates, and received in the carts ; which being done, and
Palladius seeing fit time, he gave the sign, and, shaking off
their chains, which were made with such art that, though they
seemed most strong and fast, he that ware them might
easily loose them, they drew their swords, hidden in the carts,
and so setting upon the ward,* made them to fly either from
the place, or from their bodies, and so give entry to the Arca-
dians before the Helots could make any head to resist them, -f
But the Helots, being men hardened against dangers,
gathered, as well as they could, together in the market-
place, and thence would have given a shrewd welcome to the
Arcadians, but that Palladms, blaming those that were slow,
heartening them that were forward, but especially with his
own example leading them, made such an impression into ^
the squadron of the Helots, that at first the great body of j
them beginning to shake and stagger, at length every par- i
ticular body recommended the protection of his life to his
feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison where he
thought his son was ; but Palladius wished him first to house '
all the Helots, and make themselves master of the gates.
But ere that could be accomplished the Helots had gotten
new heart, and, with divers sorts of shot, from corners of
streets and house-windows, galled them ; which courage was
come unto them by the return of their captain, who, though
he brought not many with him, having dispersed most of his
companies to other of his holds, yet, meeting a great number
running out of the gate, not yet possessed by the Arcadians,
he made them turn face, and, with banners displayed, his
* Ward — guard of soldiers. "For his menne warded in base
Boleine that night. "—Fabyan, Chron. Flen. VIII.
D 2
2,6 ARCADIA.— Book I.
trumpet give the loudest testimony he could of his return ;
which once heard, the rest of the Helots, which were other-
wise scattered, bent thitherward with a new life of resolution,
as if their captain had been a root out of which, as into
branches, their courage had sprung. Then began the fight
to grow most sharp, and the encounters of more cruel ob-
stinacy, the Arcadians fighting to keep that they had won,
the Helots to recover what theyJiad_iost ; the Arcadians as
in an unknown place, having no succour but in their hands,
the Helots as in their own place, fighting for their livings,
wives, and children. There was victory and courage against
revenge and despair ; safety of both sides being no otherwise
to be gotten but by destruction.
At length the left wing of the Arcadians began to lose
ground ; which Palladius seeing, he straight thrust himself,
wath his choice band, against the throng that oppressed them,
with such an overflowing of valour that the captain of the
Helots — whose eyes soon judged of that wherewith them-
selves were governed — saw that he alone was worth all the
rest of the Arcadians, which he so wondered at that it was
hard to say whether he more liked his doings or misliked the
effects of his doings ; but, determining that upon that cast the
game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, he sought
only to join with him, which mind was no less in Palladius,
having easily marked that he was as the first mover of all the
other hands. And so, their thoughts meeting in one point,
they consented, though not agreed, to try each other's fortune ;
and so, drawing themselves to be the uttermost of the one
side, they began a combat which was so much inferior to the
battle in noise and number as it was surpassing it in bravery
of fighting and, as it were, delightful terribleness. Their
courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with
courage ; neither did their hardiness darken their wit, nor
ARCADIA.— Book I. 37
their wit cool their hardiness : both vahant, as men despis-
ing death ; both confident, as unwonted to be overcome ; yet
doubtful by their present feeling, and respectful by what they
had already seen ; their feet steady, their hands diligent,
their eyes watchful, and their hearts resolute. The parts
either not armed or weakly armed were well known, and,
according to the knowledge, should have been sharply visited
but that the answer was as quick as the objections.* Yet
some lighting, ithe smart bred rage, and the rage bred
smart again,\till, both sides beginning to wax faint, and
rather desirous to die accompanied than hopeful to live
victorious, the captain of the Helots, with a blow whose
violence grew of fury, not of strength, or of strength pro-
ceeding of fury, strake Palladius upon the side of the head
that he reeled astonied, and withal the helmet fell off, he
remaining bareheaded ; but other of the Arcadians were ready
to shield him from any harm rfiight rise of that nakedness.
But little needed it ; for his chief enemy, instead of pur- .
suing that advantage, kneeled down, offering to deliver the
pommel of his sword, in token of yielding, withal speaking
aloud unto him, that he thought it more hberty to be his
prisoner than any other's general. Palladius, standing upon
himself, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots that
were next their captain wavering between looking for some
stratagem or fearing treason, " What," said the captair)(y^
"hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus .?"
By that watchword Palladius knew that it was his only
friend Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the sea, and there- ""^
fore both, most full of wonder so to be met, if they had not
been fuller of joy than wonder, caused the retreat to be
sounded, Daiphantus by authority, and Palladius by per-
suasion ; to which helped well the little advantage that was
* Objections — ob andjauv, adverse blows.
38 ARCADIA.— Book I.
of either side, and that, of the Helots' party, their captain's
behaviour had made as many amazed as saw or heard of it,
and, of the Arcadian side, the good old Kalander, striving
more than his old age could achieve, was newly taken pri-
soner. But indeed the chief parter of the fray was the night,
which, with her black arms, pulled their malicious sights one
from the other. But he that took Kalander meant nothing
less than to save him ; but only so long as the captain might
learn the enemy's secrets, towards whom he led the old
gentleman when he caused the retreat to be sounded, looking
, for no other delivery from that captivity but by the painful
^taking away of all pain, when whom should he see next to
'^ the captain, with good tokens how valiantly he had fought
that day against the Arcadians, but his son Clitophon ! But
now the captain had called all the principal Helots to be
assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do as to
receive a message from the Arcadians, among whom Pal-
ladius' virtue, besides the love Kalander bare him, having
gotten principal authority, he had persuaded them to seek
rather by parley to recover the father and the son than by
the sword, since the goodness of the captain assured him
that way to speed, and his valour, wherewith he was of old
acquainted, made him think any other way dangerous.
This, therefore, was done in orderly manner, giving them
to understand that, as they came but to dehver Clitophon,
so offering to leave the footing they already had in the town,
to go away without any further hurt, so as they might have
the father and the son without ransom delivered. Which
conditions being heard and conceived by the Helots,
Daiphantus persuaded them without delay to accept them.
The Helots, as much moved by his authority as persuaded
by his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon Pal-
I ladius took order that the Arcadians should presently march
ARCADIA.— Book I. 39
out of the town, taking with them their prisoners, while the
night with mutual diffidence might keep them quiet, and ere
day came they might be well on of their way, and so avoid
those accidents which in late enemies a look, a word, or a
particular man's quarrel might engender. This being on
both sides concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now,
with infinite joy, did know each other, came to kiss the hands \^
and feet of Daiphantus ; Clitophon telling his father how
Daiphantus (not without danger to himself) had preserved -.y
him from the furious malice of the Helots ; and even that
day, going to conclude the peace, least in his absence he
might receive some hurt, he had taken him in his company
and given him armour, upon promise he should take the part
of the Helots, which he had in this fight performed, little
knowing that it was against his father. " But," said Clitophon,
" here is he who, as a father, hath new begotten me, and, as a
god, hath saved me from many deaths, who already laid
hold on me," which Kalander with tears of joy acknowledged,
besides his own deliverance, only his benefit. But Dai-
phantus, who loved doing well for itself and not for thanks,
brake off those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius —
for so he called Musidorus — was come into that company, and
what his present estate was; whereof, receiving a brief /
declaration of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon
that he should not as now come unto him, because he held
himself not so sure a master of the Helots' minds that he
would adventure him in their power who was so well known
with an unfriendly acquaintance, but that he desired him to
return with Kalander, whither also he, within few days, #
having despatched himself of the Helots, would repair.
Kalander would needs kiss his hand again for that promise,
protesting he would esteem his house more blessed than a
temple of the gods if it had once received him. And then,
40 ARCADIA.— Book 1.
desiring pardon for Argalus, Daiphantus assured them that
he would die but he would bring him, though till then kept
in close prison indeed for his safety, the Helots being so
animated against him as else he could not have lived ; and so,
taking their leave of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius,
and the rest of the Arcadians, swearing that they would
no further in any sort molest the Helots, they straightway
marched out of the town, carrying 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, gave
themselves to bury their dead, to cure their wounds, and
rest their wearied bodies ; till, the next day bestowing the
cheerful use of the light upon them, Daiphantus caused a
general convocation to be made, in the which he cheereth
them for their escape from this recent gulf of danger, and
puts straightly before them the happy terms he has obtained
from the Laced£emonians. Next he telleth them that he
shall leave them ; a motion to which the Helots will not agree,
nor scarce hear, but after much discourse they are brought to
entertain, on the condition that he will return should the
Lacedaemonians break this treaty and they need him.
So then, after a few days, setting them in perfect order, he
took his leave of them, whose eyes bade him farewell with
tears, and mouths with kissing the places where he stept, and
after making temples unto him, as to a demigod, thinking it
beyond the degree of humanity to have a wit so far over-
going his age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so
excellent beauty. But he for his sake obtained free pardon
for Argalus, whom also, upon oath never to bear arms
against the Helots, he delivered, and taking only with him
certain principal jewels of his own, he would have parted
alone with Argalus, whose countenance well showed, while
ARCADIA,— Booh I. 41
Parthenia was lost, he counted not himself delivered, but that
the whole multitude would needs cruard him into Arcadia.
Where again leaving them all to lament his departure, he by-
inquiry got to the well-known house of Kalander. There
was he received with loving joy of Kalander, with joyful y
love of Palladius, with humble though doleful demeanour of
Argalus, whom specially both he and Palladius regarded,
with grateful serviceableness of Clitophon, and honourable
admiration of all. For, being now well viewed to have no ^ i«uj'-^
hair on his face to witness him a man, who had done acts
beyond the degree of a man, and to look with a certain almost-
bashful kind of modesty, as if he feared the eyes of men, who
was unmoved with the sight of the most horrible counten- J
ances of death, and as if Nature had mistaken her work to
have a Mars's heart in a Cupid's body, — all that beheld him,
and all that might behold him did behold him, made their
eyes quick messengers to their minds, that there they had
seen the uttermost that in mankind might be seen. The like
wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as
younger and newer come, had gotten now the advantage in the
moist and fickle impression of eyesight. But while all men,
saving poor Argalus, made the joy of their eyes speak for their
hearts towards Daiphantus, Fortune, that belike was bid to
that banquet, and meant to play the good fellow, brought a .
pleasant adventure among them. It was that, as they had ' ' I
newly dined, there came into Kalander a messenger, that
brought him word a young noble lady, near kinswoman to
the fair Helen, queen 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 worthy guests
with him, saving only Argalus, who remained in his chamber,
desirous that this company were once broken up that he
might go in his solitary quest after Parthenia. \But when
43 ARCADIA.— Book I.
they met this lady, Kalander straight thought he saw his
niece Parthenia, and was about in such familiar sort to have
spoken unto her ; but she, in grave and honourable manner,
giving him to understand that he was mistaken, he, half
ashamed, excused himself with the exceeding likeness was
between them, though, indeed, it seemed that this lady was
of the more pure and dainty complexion. She said it might
very well be, having been many times taken one for another.
But as soon as she was brought into the house, before she
would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publicly,
who she heard was in the house. Argalus came hastily, and
as hastily thought as Kalander had done, with sudden change
of joy into sorrow. But she, when she had staid their
thoughts with telling them her name and quality, in this sort
spake unto him: "My lord Argalus," said she, "being of late
left in the court of Queen Helen of Corinth, as chief in her
absence, she being upon some occasion gone thence, there
came unto me the La,dy. Parthenia, so disfigured, as I think
Greece hath nothing so ugly to behold. For my part, it was
many days before, with vehement oaths and some good proofs,
she could make me think that she was Parthenia. Yet, at last
finding certainly it was she, and greatly pitying her mis-
fortune, so much the more as that all men had ever told me,
as now you do, of the great likeness between us, I took the
best care I could of her, and of her understood the whole
tragical history of her undeserved adventure ; and there-
withal of that most noble constancy in you my lord Argalus,
which whosoever loves not shows himself to be a hater of
virtue, and unworthy to live in the society of mankind. But
no outward cherishing could salve the inward sore of her
mind ; but a few days since she died, before her death ear-
nestly desiring and persuading me to think of no husband
but of you, as of the only man in the world worthy to be
ARCADIA.— Book L 43
loved. Withal she gave me this ring to deliver you, desiring
you, and by the authority of love commanding you, that the
affection you bare her you should turn to me, assuring you
that nothing can please her soul more than to see you and
me matched together. Now, my lord, though this office be
not, perchance, suitable to my estate nor sex, who should
rather look to be desired, yet an extraordinary desert re-
quires an extraordinary proceeding; and, therefore, I am
come, with faithful love built upon your worthiness, to offer
myself, and to beseech you to accept the offer, and if these
noble gentlemen present will say it is great folly, let them
withal say it is great love." And then she staid, earnestly
attending Argalus's answer ; who, first making most hearty
sighs, doing such obsequies as he could to Parthenia, thus . /
answered her : —
" Madam," said he, " infinitely am I bound unto you for
this no more rare than noble courtesy ; but more bound for
the goodness I perceive you showed to the Lady Parthenia" —
with that the tears ran down his eyes, but he followed on ; — ■
"and as much as so unfortunate a man, fit to be the spectacle
of misery, can do you service, determine you have made a
purchase of a slave, while I live, never to fail you. But this
great matter you propose unto me, wherein I am not so blind
as not to see what happiness it should be unto me, excellent
lady, know that, if my heart were mine to give, you before all \
other should have it ; but Parthenia's it is, though dead :/
there I began, there I end all matter of affection. I hope L \
shall not long tarry after her, with whose beauty if I had
only been in love, I should be so with you, who have the
same beauty ; but it was Parthenia's self I loved, and love, \
which no likeness can make one, no commandment dissolve,
no foulness defile, nor no death finish." " And shall I re-
ceive," said she, " such disgrace as to be refused ?" " Noble
/
44 ARCADIA.— Book I.
lady," said he, " let not that hard word be used to me who
know your exceeding worthiness far beyond my desert ; but it
is only happiness I refuse, since of the only happiness I could
and can desire I am refused."
He had scarce spoken those words when she ran to him, and
embracing him, " Why, then, Argalus," said she, " take thy Par-
thenia ;" and Parthenia it was indeed. But because sorrow
forbade him too soon to believe, she told him the truth,
with all circumstances ; how being parted alone, meaning to
die in some solitary place, as she happened to make her com-
plaint, the Oueen Helen of Corinth, who likewise felt her
part of miseries, being then walking also alone in that lonely
place, heard her, and never left till she had known the whole
discourse. Which the noble queen greatly pitying, she sent
to her a physician of hers, the most excellent man in the
world, in hope he could help her, which in such sort as they
saw he had performed, and she taking with her of the queen's
servants, thought yet to make this trial, whether he would
quickly forget his true Parthenia or no. Her speech was
confirmed by the Corinthian gentlemen, who before had
kept her counsel, and Argalus easily persuaded to what
more than ten thousand years of life he desired ; and
Kalander would needs have the marriage celebrated in his
house, principally the longer to hold his dear guest, towards
whom he was now, besides his own habit of hospitality,
carried with love and duty, and therefore omitted no ser-
vice that his wit could invent and his power minister.
But no way he saw he could so much pleasure them as
by leaving the two friends alone, who being shrunk aside
to the banqueting house, where the pictures were, there
Palladius recounted unto Pyrocles his fortunate escape from
the wreck and his ensuing adventures. Then did he
set forth unto him the noble entertainment and careful
ARCADIA.— Book I. 45
cherishing of Kalander towards him, and so, upon occasion
of the pictures present, deHvered with the frankness of a
friend's tongue, as near as he could, word by word what
Kalander had told him touching the strange story, with all
the particularities belonging, of Arcadia ; which did in many
sorts so delight PyK^cles to hear that he would needs have *
much of it again repeated, and was not contented till Kalander
himself had answered him divers questions. ., ^^^ ^^,j^
But first, at Miisi^us' request, though in brief manner,
his mind much running upon the strange story of Arcadia,
he did declare by what course of adventures he was come to
make up their mutual happiness in meeting. "When,
cousin," said he, " we had stript ourselves, and were both
leapt into the sea, and swam a little toward the shore, I
found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not
be able to get the land, and therefore returned back again
to the mast of the ship, where you found me, assuring myself
that if you came alive to the shore you would seek me ; if
you were lost— as I thought it as good to perish as to live— so
that place as good to perish in as another. There I found
my sword among some of the shrouds, wishing, I must con-
fess, if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withal
waving it about my head, that sailers-by might have the
better glimpse of me. There you missing me, I was taken
up by pirates, who, putting me under board prisoner, presently
set upon another ship, and, maintaining a long fight, in the
end put them all to the sword. Amongst whom I might
hear them greatly praise one young man, who fought most
valiantly, whom, as love is careful, and misfortune subject
to doubtfulness, I thought certainly to be you. And so,
holding you as dead, from that time till the time I saw you,
in truth I sought nothing more than a noble end, which
perchance made me more hardy than otherwise I would
J
46 ARCADIA.— Book I.
have been. Trial whereof came within two days after ; for
the kings of Lacedcemon having set out some galleys, under
the charge of one of their nephews, to scour the sea of the
pirates, they met with us, where our captain wanting men,
was driven to arm some of his prisoners, with promise of
liberty for well fighting, among whom I was one ; and, being
boarded by the admiral, it was my fortune to kill Euryleon?
the king's nephew. But in the end they prevailed, aiTdTTve
were all taken prisoners, I not caring much what became of
me — only keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the
resolution you know is between us ; but being laid in the
gaol of Tenaria, with special hate to me for the death of
Ettryleon, the popular sor^ ofthatjown consj)ired with the
Helots, and so by night opened thsm the _gates ; where
entering and killing all of the gentle and rich faction, for
honesty-sake broke open all prisons, and so delivered me ;
and I, moved with gratefulness, and encouraged with care-
lessness of life, so behaved myself in some conflicts they had
within few days, that they barbarously thinking unsensible*
wonders of me, and withal so much the better trusting me
as they heard I was hated of the king of Laced^mon, their
chief captain being slain, as you know, by the noble Argalus,
they elected me, God wot little proud of that dignity, re-
storing unto me such things of mine, as being taken first by
the pirates and then by the Lacedccmonians, they had gotten
in the sack of the town. Now being in it, so good was my
success with many victories, that I made a peace for them,
to their own liking, the very day that you delivered Clitophon,
whom I, with much ado, had preserved. And in my peace
the King Amiclas of Lacedsemon would needs have me
banished, and deprived of the dignity whereunto I v/as
exalted ; which — and you may see how much you are bound"
* Unsensible — insensate, foolish from their magnitude.
ARCADIA,— Book I. 47
to me — for your sake I was content to suffer, a new hope
rising in me that you were not dead, and so meaning to
travel over the world to seek you ; and now here, my dear
Musidorus, you have me." And with that, embracing and
kissing each other, they called Kalander, of whom Dai-
phantus desired to hear the full story, which before he had
recounted to Palladius.
But, within some days after, the marriage between Argalus
and the fair Parthenia being to be celebrated, Daiphantus
and Palladius selling some of their jewels, furnished them-
selves of very fair apparel, meaning to do honour to their
loving host, who, as much for their sakes as for their marriage,
set forth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the
cost be^^^owed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine decking
so much beautify, nor all the dainty devices so much delight
ds the fairness of Parthenia, the pearl of all the maids of
Mantinea, who as she went to the temple to be married, her
eyes themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and beauty*
were married ; her lips, though they were kept close with
modest silence, yet, with a pretty kind of natural swelling,
they seemed to invite the guests that looked on them ; her
cheeks blushing, and withal, when she was spoken unto, a
little smiling, were like roses, when their leaves are with a jj
little breath stirred, her hair being laid at the full length
down her back, bare show as if the voward* failed, yet that ;
would conquer. Daiphantus marking her, " O Jupiter !"
saith he, speaking to Palladius, " how happens it that beauty
is only confined to A.rcadia ?" But Palladius not greatly
attending his speech, some days were continued in the
* Probably antithetically put, and misprinted for "vaward," the
fore-part ; z>., her back hair was so beautiful, that if the beauty of
the face failed that would conquer. Vaward is " vanguard " : —
" My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward." — Henry V. iv. 3.
J
48 ARCADIA.— Book I.
solemnising the marriage, with all conceits that might deliver
delight to men's fancies.
But such a change was grown in Daiphantus that, as if
cheerfulness had been tediousness, and good entertainment
were turned to discourtesy, he w'ould ever get himself alone,
though almost when he was in company he was alone, so
little attention he gave to any that spake unto him ; even
the colour and figure of his face began to receive some altera-
tion, which he showed little to heed ; but every morning,
early going abroad, either to the garden or to some woods
towards the desert, it seemed his only c '^■'fort to be without
a comforter. But long it could not be hid from Palla,dius,
whom true love made ready to mark, and long kno\ ""-d^^e
able to mark ; and therefore, being now grown weary r
abode in Arcadia, having informed himself fully ^. '
strength and riches of the country, of the nature oi
people, and manner of their laws, and seeing the cc
could not be visited, prohibited to all men but to certai.
shepherdish people, he greatly desired a speedy return to his
own-CDuntry, after the many mazes of fortune he had trodden,
but, perceiving this great alteration in his friend, had thought
first to break with him thereof, and then to hasten his return,
whereof he found him but smally inclined ; whereupon one
day taking him alone with certain graces and countenances,
as if he were disputing with the trees, he somewhat tried to
discover the _.r£as.on oLhis frie nd's melanc holy, but had not
proceeded far before Kalander came andjbrake off their dis-
course with inviting them to the hunting of a goodly stag, which,
being harboured in a wood thereby, he hoped would make
them good sport, and drive away some part of Daiphantus's
melancholy. They condescended ; and so, going to their lodg-
ings, furnished themselves as liked them, Daiphantus writing a
few words, which he left sealed in a letter against their return.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 49
Then went they together abroad, the good Kalander enter-
taining them with pleasant discoursing — how well he loved
the sport of hunting when he was a young man ; how much,
in the comparison thereof, he disdained all chamber delights ;
that the sun, how great a journey soever he had to make,
could never prevent him with earliness, nor the moon, with
her sober countenance, dissuade him from watching till mid-
night for the deer's feeding. "Oh," said he, " you will never
live to my age without you keep yourselves in breath with
exercise, and in heart with joyfulness. Too much thinking
doth consume the spirits ; and oft it falls out that, while one
thinks too much of his doing, he leaves to do the effect of his
thinking." Then spared he not to remember how much
Arcadia was changed since his youth, activity and good
fellowship being nothing in the price it was then held in, but,
according to the nature of the old-growing world, still worse
and worse. Then would he tell them stories of such gallants
as he had known, and so, with pleasant company, beguiled
the time's haste and shortened the way's length, till they
came to the side of the wood where the hounds were, in.
couples, staying their coming, but, with a whining accent,
craving liberty, many of them in colour and marks so resem-
bling that it showed they were of one kind. The huntsmen,
handsomely attired in their green liveries, as though they
were children of summer, with staves in their hands, to beat |
the guiltless earth when the hounds were at a fault, and with
horns about their necks, to sound an alarum upon a silly
fugitive. The hounds were straight uncoupled ; and ere
long the stag thought it better to trust to the nimbleness of
his feet than to the slender fortification of his lodging ; but
even his feet betrayed him ; for howsoever they went they
themselves uttered themselves to the scent of their enemies ;
who, one taking it of another, and sometimes believing the
E
50 ARCADIA.— Book I.
wind's advertisement, sometimes the view of their faithful
counsellors the huntsmen, with open mouths then denounced
war, when the war was already begun ; their cry being com-
posed of so well-sorted mouths that any man would perceive
therein some kind of proportion, but the skilful woodmen did
find a music. Then delight and variety of opinion drew the
horsemen sundry ways, yet, cheering their hounds with voice
and horn, kept still as it were together. The wood seemed
to conspire with them against his own citizens,* dispersing
their noise through all his quarters, and even the nymph Echo
left to bewail the loss of Narcissus and became a hunter.
But the stag was in the end so hotly pursued that, turning
his head, he made the hounds, with change of speech, to
testify that he was at a bay. But Kalander, by his skill of
coasting the country, was amongst the first that came into
the besieged deer, whom, when some of the younger sort
would have killed with their swords, he would not suffer,
but with a cross-bow sent a death to the poor beast, who
with tears showed the unkindness he took of man's cruelty.
But, by the time that the whole company was assembled,
and that the stag had bestowed himself liberally among
J them that had killed him, Daiphantus was missed, for whom
Palladius carefully inquiring, no news could be given him
but by one that said he thought he was returned home ; for
that he marked him, in the chief of the hunting, take a by-
way which might lead to Kalander's house. That answer
for the time satisfying, and they having performed all duties,
as well for the stag's funeral as the hounds' triumph, they
returned, some talking of the fatness of the deer's body, some
* Citizens — " Sweep on, ye fat and greasy citizens,''''
Shaks. As You Like It.
"About her wondering stood
The citizens o' the wood.'''' — Lodge's "Rosalynd."
ARCADIA.— Book I. 51
of the fairness of his head, some of the hounds' cunning,
some of their speed, and some of their cry ; till, coming home
about the time that the candles begin to inherit the sun's
office, they found Daiphantus was not to be found. Whereat
Palladius greatly marvelling, and a day or two passing, while
neither search nor inquiry could help him to knowledge, at
last he lighted upon the letter which Pyrocles had written
before he went a-hunting and left in his study among other
of his writings. The letter was directed to Palladius himself,
and contained these words : —
" My onlyJFriend,— Violence ofiflxe leads me into such
a course'whereof your knowledge may much more vex you
than help me ; therefore pardon my concealing it from you,
since, if I wrong you, it is in the respect I bear you. Return
into Thes^salia, I pray you, as full of good fortune as I am of
desire ; and, if I live, I will in short time follow you ; if I
die, love my memory."
This was all, and this Palladius read twice or thrice over.
" Ah," said he, " Pyrocles, what means this alteration ?
What have I deserved of thee to be thus banished of thy
counsels ? Heretofore I have accused the sea, condemned
the pirates, and hated my evil fortune that deprived me of
thee ; but now thyself is the sea which drowns my comfort,
thyself is the pirate that robs thyself from me, thy own wjll
becomes my evil fortune." Then turned he his thoughts to
all forms of guesses that might light upon the purpose and
course of Pyrocles ; for he was not so sure, by his words,
that it was love, as he was doubtful where the love was. One
time he thought some beauty in Laconia had laid hold of
his eyes, another time he feared that it might be Parthenia's
excellency which had broken the bands of all former resolu-
tion ; but the more he thought the more he knew not what
E 2
52 ARCADIA.— Book I.
to think, armies of objections rising against any accepted
opinion.
Then as careful he was what to do himself ; at length de-
termined never to leave seeking him till his search should be
either by meeting accomplished or by death ended. There-
fore (for all the unkindness, bearing tender respect that his
friend's secret determination should be kept from any suspi-*
cion in others) he went to Kalander and told him that he had
received a message from his friend, by which he understood
he was gone back again into Laconia about some matters
greatly importing the poor men whose protection he had
undertaken, and that it was in any sort fit for him to follow
him, but in such private wise as not to be known, and that,
therefore, he would as then bid him farewell ; arming himself
in a black armour, as either a badge or prognostication of
his mind, and taking only with him good store of money
and a few choice jewels, leaving the greatest number of them
and most of his apparel with Kalander ; which he did partly
to give the more cause to Kalander to expect their return,
and so to be the less curiously inquisitive after them, and
partly to leave those honourable thanks unto him for his
charge and kindness which he knew he would not other way
receive. The good old man, having neither reason to dis-
suade nor hope to persuade, received the things, with mind
of a keeper, not of an owner, and abstained from urging
him, but not from hearty mourning the loss of so sweet a
conversation.
Only Clitophqn, by vehement importunity, obtained to go
with him, to conie again to Daiphantus, whom he named and
accounted his lord. And in such private guise departed
Palladius, though having a companion to talk withal, yet
talking much more with unkindness. And first they went
to Mantinea, whereof because Parthenia was there, he
ARCADIA.— Book I. ^ 53
suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But,
finding there no news of him, he went to Tegea, Ripa,
EnispcC, Stimphalus, and Phineus, famous for the poisonous
Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making
their eyes, their ears, .and their tongues serve almost for
nothing but that inquiry. But they could know nothing but
that in none of those places he was known. And so went
they, making one place succeed to another, in like uncer-
tainty to their search, many times encountering strange
adventures worthy to be registered in the rolls of fame ; but
this may not be omitted. As they passed in a pleasant
valley, of either side of which high hills lifted up their beetle-
brows as if they would overlook the pleasantness of their
under-prospect, they were, by the daintiness of the place and
the weariness of themselves, invited to light from their
horses, and pulled off their bits that they might something
refresh their mouths upon the grass, which plentifully grew,
brought up under the care of those well-shading trees ; they
themselves laid them down hard by the murmuring music of
certain waters which spouted out of the side of the hills, and
in the bottom of the valley made of many springs a pretty
brook, like a commonwealth of many families. But when
they had a while hearkened to the persuasion of sleep, they
rose and walked onward in thart shady place, till Clitophon
espied a piece of armour, and not far off another piece ; and
so the sight of one piece teaching him to look for more, he at
length found all, with head-piece and shield, by the device
whereof he straight knew it to be the armour of his cousin,
the noble Amphialus. Whereupon, fearing some incon-
venience happened unto him, he told both his doubt and *
cause of doubt to Palladius, who, considering thereof, thought
best to make no longer stay but to follow on, lest, perchance,
some violence were offered to so* worthy a knight, whom the
54 ARCADIA.— Book T.
fame of the world seemed to set in balance with any knight
living. Yet, with a sudden conceit, having long borne great
honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to
take that armour, thinking thereby to learn by them that
should know that armour some news of Amphialus, and yet
not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he, by
the help of Clitophon, quickly put on that armour, whereof
there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some
places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was
something too great, but yet served well enough. And so,
getting on their horses, they travelled but a little way when,
in opening of the mouth of the valley into a fair field, they
met with a coach drawn with four milk-white horseSj fur-
nished all in black, with a blackamoor boy upon every
horse, they all apparelled in white, the coach itself very
richly furnished in black and white. But, before they could
come so near as to discern what was within, there came
running upon them above a dozen horsemen, who cried to
them to yield themselves prisoners, or else they should die.
I But Palladius, not accustomed to grant over the possession
of himself upon so unjust titles, with sword drawn gave them
so rude an answer that divers of them never had breath to
reply again ; for, being well backed by Clitophon, and having
an excellent horse under him, when he was over-pressed by
some, he avoided them, and, ere the other thought of it, pun-
^^ished in him his fellow's faults ; and so, either with cunning
or with force, or rather with a cunning force^JefLnone of
them either living or able to make his life serveto other's
hurt. Which being done, he approached the coach, assuring
the black boys they should have no hurt, who were else
ready to have run away ; and, looking in the coach, he
found in the one end a lady of great beauty, and such a
\ beauty as showed forth the t^eams both of wisdom and good
ARCADIA.— Book I. 55
nature, but all as much darkened as might be with secret
sorrow ; in the other, two ladies who, by their demeanour,
showed well they were but her servants, holding before
them a picture in which was a goodly gentleman, whom he
knew not, painted, having in their faces a certain waiting
sorrow, their eyes being infected with their mistress's weep-
ing. But the chief lady, having not so much as once
heard the noise of this conflict, so had sorrow closed up
all the entries of her mind, and love tied her senses to that
beloved picture, now the shadow of him falling upon the
picture made her cast up her eye, and seeing the armour
which too well she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus, the
lord of her desires, Woqd_.i:oJDim^j3iQre^ freely into her
cheeks, as though it would be bold, and yet there growing
new again pale for fear, with a pitiful look, like one unjustly
condemned, " My lord Amphialus," said she, '' you have
enough punished me : it is time for cruelty to leave you, and
evil fortune me ; if not, I pray you — and to grant my prayer
fitter time nor place you can have — accomplish the one even
now, and finish the other."
With that, sorrow poured itself so fast into tears that
Palladius could not hold her longer in error; he shortly
discovered himself unto her, and assured her that he had
come by the armour by chance, knowing the device thereof,
and lastly conjured her to tell the story of her fortune.
Thereon she, looking on her wounded and dead servants,
said, "Your conjuration, fair knight, is too strong for my
poor spirit to disobey. Know you, then, that my name is
Helen, queen by birth, and hitherto possessed of the fair city
and territory of Corinth. I can say no more of myself, but
beloved of my people, and may justly say beloved, since they
are content to bear with my absence and folly. But I being
left by my father's death, and accepted by my people, in the
A
56 ARCADIA.— Book I.
highest degree that country could receive, as soon, or rather
before that my age was ripe for it, my court quickly swarmed
full of suitors, some perchance loving my estate, others my
person, but once, I know, all of them, howsoever my posses-
sions were in their heart, my beauty, such as it is, was in
their mouths — many strangers of princely and noble blood,
and all of mine own country, to whom either birth or virtue
gave courage to avow so high a desire.
" Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the lord
Philqxenus, son and heir to the virtuous nobleman Timotheus,
which Timotheus was a man, both in power, riches, parentage
and (which passed all these) goodness, and (which followed
all these) love of the people, beyond any of the great men of
my countr}'. Now this son of his, I must say truly not
unworthy of such a father, bending himself by all means of
serviceableness to me, and setting forth of himself to win my
/ favour, wan thus far of me that in truth I less misliked him
than any of the rest, which in some proportion my counten-
ance delivered unto him. Though I must protest it was ^
very false embassador if it delivered at all any affection,
whereof my heart was utterly void, I as then esteeming
myself born to rule, and thinking foul scorn willingly to
submit myself to be ruled.
" But whiles Philoxenus in good sort pursued my favour, and
perchance nourished himself with over-much hope, because
he found I did in some sort acknowledge his value, one time
among the rest he brought with him a dear friend of his." With
that she looked upon the picture before her, and straight
sighed, and straight tears followed, as if the idol of duty
ought to be honoured with such oblations, and then her
speech stayed, the tale having brought her to that look, but
that look having quite put her out of her tale.
But Palladius warmly beseeched the queen to continue
ARCADIA,— Book L 57
and recount the rest of her story. " This," said she, " is the
picture of Amphialus ! What need I say more ? What ear is
so barbarous but hath heard of him, of his deeds of arms, his
greatness? This knight, then, whose figure you see, but
whose mind can be painted by nothing but by the true>/ ft
shape of virtue, is brother's son to BasiHus, king of Arcadia, ^"^^
and in his childhood esteemed his heir, till Basilius, in his old
years marrying a young and fair lady, had of her those two
daughters so famous for their perfection in beauty, which
put by their young cousin from that expectation. Where-
upon his mother, a woman of an haughty heart, being
daughter to the king of Argos, either disdaining or fearing
that her son should live under the power of Basilius, sent him
to that lord Timatheus, between whom and her dead husband
there had passed straight bands of mutual hospitality, to be
brought up in company with his son Philoxenus.
" Well, they grew in years, and shortly occasions fell aptly to
try Amphialus ; and all occasions were but steps for him to
climb fame by. An endless thing it were for me to tell how j
many adventures terrible to be spoken of he achieved, what
monsters, what giants, what conquests of countries, some-
times using policy, sometimes force, but always virtue, well
followed, and but followed, by Philoxenus ; between whom
and him so fast a friendship by education was knit that at
last Philoxenus, having no greater matter to employ his friend-
ship in than to win me, therein desired, and had his uttermost
furtherance. To that purpose brought he him to my court?
where truly I may justly witness with him that what his wit /
could conceive (and his wit can conceive as far as the limits
of reason stretch), was all directed to the setting forward the
suit of his friend Philoxenus. , In few words, while he pleaded ^
for another, he wan me for himself : if, at least," with that she '
sighed, " he would account it winning ; for his fame had so
58 ARCADIA.— Book I.
framed the way to my mind that his presence, so full of
beauty, sweetness, and noble conversation, had entered there
before he vouchsafed to call for the keys.
" Days passed ; his eagerness for his friend never decreased ;
my affection to him ever increased. At length, in way of
ordinaiy courtesy, I obtained of him (who suspected no such
matter) this his picture, the only Amphialus, I fear, that I
shall ever enjoy ; and, grown bolder, or madder, or bold with
madness, I discovered my affection unto him. But, Lord ! I
shall never forget how an ger a nd courtesy at one instant
appeared in his eyes, when he heard that motion : how with
his blush he taught me shame. In sum, he left nothing
unassayed which might disgrace himself to_gracehis ftiend,
in sweet terms making me receive a most resolute refusal
of himself. But when he found that his presence did far
more persuade for himself than his speech could do for his
friend, he left my court ; hoping that forgetfulness, which
commonly waits upon absence, would_jriake_room for his
friend. Within ,a,while- P-hiloxeaus came to see how onward
the fruits were of his friend's labour, when I told him that
I would hear him more willingly if he would speak for Am-
phialus as well as Amphialus had done for him. He never
answered me, but, pale and trembling, went straight away,
and straight my heart misgave me.
"Philoxenus had travelled scarce a day's journey out of
my country but that, not far from this place, he overtook
Amphialus, who, by succouring a distressed lady, had been
here stayed; and by-and-by called him to fight with him,
^ protesting that one of them two should die. You may easily
judge how strange it was to Amphialus, whose heart could
accuse itself of no fault but too much affection towards him ;
which he, refusing to fight with him, would fain have made
Philoxenus understand ; but, as one of my servants since told
ARCADIA.— Book I. 59
me, the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed,
calling him traitor and coward, yet never telling the cause of
this strange alteration. 'Ah, Philoxei^us,' said Amphialiis, 'I
know I am no traitor, and thou well knowest I am no coward :
but I pray thee content thyself with thus much, and let this
satisfy thee that I love thee, since I bear thus much of thee.'
But he, leaving words, drew his sword and gave Amphialus a
great blow or two, which, but for the goodness of his armour,
would have slain him ; and yet so far did Amphialus contain
himself, stepping aside and saying to him, ' Well, Philoxenus,
and thus much villainy am I content to put up, not any
longer for thy sake, whom I have no cause to love, since thou
dost injure me and wilt not tell me the cause, but for thy
virtuous father's sake, to whom I am so much bound : I pray
thee go away and conquer thy own passions, and thou shalt
make me soon yield to be thy servant.' But he would not
attend his words, but still strake so fiercely at Amphialus
that in the end, nature prevailing above determination, he
was fain to defend himself, and withal so to offend him, thatj
by an unlucky blow the poor Philoxenus fell dead at his feet,
having had time only to speak some words, whereby
Amphialus knew it was for my sake : which when Amphialus
saw, he forthwith gave such tokens of true-felt sorrow that, as
my servant said, no imagination could conceive greater woe,
but that by-and-by an unhappy occasion made Amphialus
pass himself in sorrow : for Philoxenus was but newly dead,
when there comes to the same place the aged and virtuous
Timotheus ; who, having heard of his son's sudden and
passionate manner of parting from my court, had followed
him as speedily as he could, but, alas, not so speedily but
that he found him dead before he could overtake him. Alas,
what sorrow, what amazement, what shame was in Amphialus
when he saw his dear foster-father find him the killer of his
6o ARCADIA.— Book I.
only son ! In my heart, I know, he wished mountains had
lain upon him, to keep him from that meeting. As for
Timotheus, sorrow of his son, and, I think, principally un-
kindness of Amphialus, so devoured his vital spirits that, able
/ to say no more but ' Amphialus, Amphialus, have I ?'
he sank to the earth and presently died.
" But not my tongue, though daily used to complaints ; no,
nor if my heart, which is nothing but sorrow, were turned to
tongues, durst it undertake to show the unspeakableness of
his grief. But, because this serves to make you know my
fortune, he threw away his armour, even this which you have
now upon you, which at the first sight I vainly hoped he had
put on again ; and then, as ashamed of the light, he ran into
the thickest of the woods, lamenting, and everi^ cr^^ing out so
pitifully that my servant, though o7~a Tortune not used to
much tenderness, could not refrain weeping when he told it
^ me. He once overtook him ; but Amphialus, drawing his
sword, which was the only part of his arms (God knows to
what purpose) he carried about him, threatened to kill him if
he followed him ; and withal bade him deliver this bitter-
message, that he well enough found I was the cause of all
this mischief, and that if I were a man he would go over the
world to kill me; but bade me assure myself that of all
creatures in the world he most hated me. Ah, sir knight,
whose ears I think by this time are tired with the rugged
ways of these misfortunes, now weigh my cause, if at least
you know wha tjov^gi s. For this cause have I left my country,
j putting in hazard how my people will in time deal by me,
/ adventuring what perils or^dishonours might ensue, only to
follow him who proclaimeth_ hate -against me, and to bring
my neck unto him, if that may redeem my trespass and
assuage his fur}^ And now, sir," said she, " you have your
request, I pray you take pains to guide me to the next town,
ARCADIA.— Book I. 6i
that there I may gather such of my company again as your
valour hath left me."
Palladius willingly condescended ; but ere they began to
go, there came Clitophon, who, having been something hurt
by one of them, had pursued him a good way : at length
overtaking him, and ready to kill him, understood they were
servants to the fair Queen Helen, and that the cause of this
enterprise was for nothing but to make Amphialus prisoner,
whom they knew their mistress sought ; for she concealed her
sorrow, nor cause of her sorrow, from nobody.
But Clitophon, very sorry for this accident, came back to
comfort the queen, helping such as were hurt in the best
sort that he could, and framing friendly constructions of
this rashly-undertaken enmity ; when in comes another, till
that time unseen, all armed, with his beaver down, who, first
looking round about upon the company, as soon as he spied
Palla4iiis,Jie-4rew-4iis-*wo^rd,- arid,- jnaking^ -ao- other pro-
logue, let fly at him. But Palladius, sorry for so much harm
as had already happened, sought rather to retire and ward,
thinking he might be some one that belonged to the fair
queen, whose case in his heart he pitied. Which Clitophon
seeing, stepped between them, asking the newcorae knight
the cause of his quarrel, who answered him that he would
kill that thief, who had stolen away his master's armour, if
he did not restore it. With that Palladius looked upon him
and saw that he of the other side had Palladius' own
armour upon him. " Truly," said Palladius, " if I have
stolen this armour, you did not buy that ; but you shall not
fight upon such a quarrel. You shall have this armour wil-
lingly, which I did only put on to do honour to the owner."
But Clitophon straight knew by his words and voice
that it was Ismenus, the faithful and diligent page of Am-
phialus ; and therefore, telling him that he was Clitophon,
i
i
62 ARCADIA.— Book I.
and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who
deserved all honour, the young gentleman pulled off his
headpiece, and, lighting, went to kiss Palladius' hands,
desiring him to pardon his folly, caused by extreme grief,
which easily might bring forth anger. " Sweet gentleman,"
said Palladius, " you shall only make me this amends, that
you shall carry this, your lord's armour, from me to him,
and tell him, from an unknown knight, who admires his
worthiness, that he cannot cast a greater mist over his glory
than by being so unkind to so excellent a princess as this
queen is." Ismenus promised he would as soon as he durst
find his master ; and with that went to do his duty to the
queen, whom, in all these encounters, astonishment made
hardy ; but as soon as she saw Ismenus (looking to her pic-
ture), "Ismenus," said she, "here is my lord; where is
yours ? Or come you to bring me some sentence of death
from him.? If it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speak,
and speak quickly." "Alas! madam," said Ismenus, "I
have lost my lord !" — witlL_that__teara_came_Junto his eyes —
" for, as soon as the unhappy combat was concluded with the
death both of father and son, my master,, casting off his
armour, went his way, forbidding me, upon pain of death, to
follow him. Yet divers days I followed his steps, till lastly I
foundTirm, having newly met with an excellent spaniel be-
longing to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog straight
fawned on my master for old knowledge, but never was there
thing more pitiful than to hear my master blame the dog for
loving his master's murderer, renewing afresh his^complaints
with the dumb counsellor as if they might comfort one
another in their miseries. But my lord, having spied me,
rose up in such rage that, in truth, I feared he would kill
me ; yet as then he said only, if I would not displease him, I
should not come near him till he sent for me — too hard a
ARCADIA.— Book I. 63
commandment for me to disobey. I yielded, leaving him
only waited on by his dog, and, as I think, seeking out the
most solitary places that this or any other country can grant
him."
The queen, sobbing, desired to be conducted to the next ,
town, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon,-^
at Palladius' earnest entreaty, who desired alone ttr'falce
that i^elancholy course of seeking his friend, and therefore
changing armours again with Isuaenus (who went withal to
a castle belonging to his master), he continued his quest for
his friend Dai'phantus^
He directed his course to Laconia, and afterwards pass-
eth through Achaia and Sycyonia, and returned, after two
months' travail in vain. Having already passed over the
greatest part of Arcadia, one day, coming under the side
of the pleasant mountain Menalus, his horse, nothing guilty
of his inquisitiveness, with flat tiring taught him that " dis-
creet stays make speedy journeys ;" and therefore, light-
ing down and unbridling his horse, he himself went to repose
himself in a little wood he saw thereby. Where, lying under
the protection of a shady tree, with intention to make forget-
ting sleep comfort a sorrowful memory, he saw a sight which
persuaded and obtained of his eyes that they would abide
yet a while open. It was the appearing of a lady, who, be- y
cause she walked with her side toward him, he could not f
perfectly see her face, but so much he might see of her that /
was a surety for the rest that all was excellent.
Well might he perceive the hanging of her hair in fairest
quantity, in locks, some curled, and some, as it were, for-
gotten, with such a careless care, and an art so hiding art,
that she seemed she would lay them for, a pattern whether
nature simply or nature helped by cunning be the more
excellent \ the rest whereof was drawn into a coronet of gold
J
y
64 ARCADIA.— Book I.
richly set with pearl, and so joined all over with gold wires,
and covered with feathers of divers colours, that it was not
unlike to an helmet, such a glittering show it bare, and so
bravely it was held up from the head. Upon her body she
ware a doublet of sky-colour satin, covered with plates of
gold, and, as it were, nailed with precious stones, that in it
she might seem armed. The nether part of her garment was
full of stuff, and cut after such a fashion that, though the
length of it reached to the ankles, yet, in her going, one
might sometimes discern the small of her leg, which, with
the foot, was dressed in a short pair of crimson velvet
buskins, in some places open, as the ancient manner was, to
show the fairness of the skin. Over all this she ware a
certain mantle, made in such manner that, coming under her
right arm, and covering most of that side, it had no fastening
on the left side, but only upon the top of the shoulder, where
the two ends met, and were closed together with a ver)' rich
jewel, the device whereof, as he after saw, was this : a
Hercules, made in little^ form, but set with a d istaff in his
hand, as he once was by Omphale's commandment, with a
word in Greek, but thus to be interpreted, "Never more
vahant." 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 needless weapon, since
her other forces were without withstanding. But this lady
walked outright till he might see her enter into a fine close
arbour. It was of trees, whose branches so lovingly inter-
laced one the other that it could resist the strongest violence
of eyesight ; but she went into it by a door she opened,
which moved him, as warily as he could, to follow her ; and
by-and-by he might hear her sing, with a voice no less beau-
tiful to his ears than her goodhness was full of harmony to
his eyes.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 65
The ditty gave him some suspicion, but the voice gave
him almost assurance, who the singer was ; and, therefore, ^
boldly thrusting open the door and entering into the arbour, (
he perceived indeed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised ;
wherewith, not receiving so much joy to have found him
as grief so to have found him, amazedly looking upon him
— as Apollo is painted, when he saw Daphne suddenly
turned into a laurel — he was not able to bring forth a word ;
so that Pyrocles, who had as much shame as Musidorus
had sorrow, rising to him, would have formed a substan-
tial excuse ; but his insinuation being of blushing, and his
division of sighs, his whole oration stood upon a short
narration, which was the causer of this metamorphosis.
But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirits to- .
gether, and, yet casting a gastful countenance upon him, /
as if he would conjure some strange spirits, he cried unto /.
him, ■" Is it possible that this is Pyrocles, and in this habit,
which to say ' I cannot ' is childish, and ^ I will not ' wo-
manish ? Let us see what power is the author of all these y
troubles. Forsooth_love"; love, a passion, and the basest
and fruitlessest_QLalLpassions. Fear breedeth wit ; anger is
the cradle of courage ; joy openeth and enableth the heart ;
sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inward to look to the <-'
correcting of itself ; and so all of them generally have power
towards some good by the direction of reason. But this
bastard love — for, indeed, the name of love is most unv
worthily applied to so hateful a humour — as it is engendered .
betwixt_l ust and id leness ; as the matter it works upon is
nothing but a certain base weakness which some gentle fools
call a gentle heart ; as his adjoined companions be unquietness, / •
longings, fond comforts, faint discomforts, hopes, jealousies,^!
ungrounded rages, causeless yielding; so is the highest end
it aspires unto — ajittle pleasure, with much pain before, and
66 ARCADIA.— Book I.
great repentance after. But that end — how endless it runs to
infinite evils — were fit enough for the matter we speak of; but
not for your ears, in whom, indeed, there is so much true dis-
position to virtue ; yet thus much of his worthy effects in your-
self is to be seen, that, besides your breaking laws o^hospitality
f with Kalander, and of Jjriendship with me, it utterly subverts
the course of nature, in making reason give place to sense, and
man to woman. And truly I think hereupon it first gat the
name of love ; for indeed the true love hath that excellent
nature in it that it doth transform the very essence oTlhe
lover into the thing loved, uniting, and as it were' incor-
porating, it with a secret and inward working. And herein do
hese kinds of loves imitate the excellent ; for as the love of
heaven makes one heavenly, the love of virtue virtuous, so
doth the love of the world make one become worldly ; and
this effeminate love of a woman doth so womanize a man
that, if he yield to it, will not only make him an Amazon, but
a launder [washer], a distaff, a spinner, or whatsoever other
vile occupation their idle heads can imagine and their weak
hands perform." But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no
more but that he, who before he was espied was afraid, after
being perceived was ashamed, now being hardly rubbed
upon left both fear and shame, and was moved to anger.
But the good-will he bare to Musidorus striving with it,
he thus, partly to satisfy him, but principally to loose the reins
to his own motions, made him answer : " Cousin, whatsoever
good disposition nature hath bestowed upon me, or howsoever
that disposition had been by bringing up confirmed, this I
must confess, that I am not yet come to that degree of
/wisdom to think light of the sex of whom I have my life,
since if I be anything — which your friendship rather finds
than I acknowledge — I was, to come to it, born of a woman,
and nursed of a woiaan. And certainly — for this point of
ARCADIA.— Book L '67
your speech doth nearest touch me — it is strange to see the
unmanhke cruelty of mankind, who, not content with their
tyrannous ambition to have brought the others' virtuous
patience under them, hke childish masters, think their
masterhood nothing without doing injury to those who, if
we will argue by reason, are framed of nature with the same
parts of the mind for the exercise of virtue as we are. And
truly we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that,
if we have such excellencies, it is reason to think them
excellent creatures, of whom we are, since a kite never
brought forth a good laying hawk."
Then did Pyrocles for some time argue on the power
of love, its end being enjoyment. " But," said Musidorus,
'' alas ! let your own brain disenchant you." " My heart is
too far possessed," said Pyrocles. " But the head gives you
direction." " Yes," returned Pyrocles, " and the heart gives
me life. Prince ]\Iusidorus, how cruelly you deal with me ;
if you seek the victory, take it, and if ye list, the triumph; you
have all the reason in the world, let me remain with the
imperfections."
Herewith the wound of his love, being rubbed again, began
to bleed afresh, and he sunk down to the ground with a sud-
den trance that went so to the heart of Musidorus that, fall-
ing down by him, he besought him to tell him everything,
for, between friends, all must be laid open, nothing being
superfluous nor tedious. " You shall be obeyed," said
Pyrocles ; " and here are we in as fit a place for it as may
be, for this arbour nobody offers to come into but myself, I
using it as my melancholy retiring-place, and therefore that
respect is borne unto it ; yet if by chance any should come, ,
say that you are a servant sent from the Queen of Amazons
to seek me, and then let me alone for the rest." So sat
thc_, ^own, and Pyrocles thus said :
F 2
68 ARCADIA.— Book L
I " Cousin," said he, " then began the fatal overthrow of all
1 my liberty when, walking among the pictures in Kalander's
1 house, you yourself delivered unto me what you had under-
l stood of Philoclea, who, much resembling — though I must
I say, much surpassing — the lady Zelmane, whom so well I
loved, there were mine eyes infected, and at your mouth did
I I drink my poison. Yet, alas ! so sweet was it unto me that
I could not be contented till Kalander had made it more and
more strong with his declaration. Which, the more I ques-
tioned, the more pity I conceived of her unworthy fortune ;
and when with pity once my heart was made tender, accord-
ing to the aptness of the humour, it received quickly a cruel
impression of that wonderful passion which to be defined is
/ impossible, because no words reach to the strange nature of
it ; they only know it which inwardly feel it : it is called Love.
Yet did I not, poor wretch ! at first know my disease, think-
ing it only such a wonted kind of desice to see rare sights,
and my pity to be no other but the fruits of a gentle nature.
But even this arguing with myself came of further thoughts ;
and the more I argued the more my thoughts increased.
Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though
the architecture of the lodges would have been much for my
learning, but more desirous to see herself, to be judge, for-
\ sooth, of the painter's cunning. But my wishes grew into
] unquiet longings, and knowing that to a heart resolute
(counsel is tedious, and reprehension loathsome, and that
ithere is nothing more terrible to a guilty heart than the eye
jof a respected friend, I determined, my dear Musidorus, to
run away from my well-known chiding, and, having written
E letter and taken my chief jewels with me, I stole away
while you were in the midst of your sports, committing
myself to fortune and industry, and determining to bear
the countenance of an Amazon. Therefore, in the closest
ARCADIA.— Book I. 69
manner I could, naming myself Zelmane, for that dear lady's
sake to whose memory I am so much bound, I caused this
apparel to be made, and, bringing it near the lodges, which
are hard at hand, by night thus dressed myself, resting till
occasion might make me to be found by them whom I sought
which the next morning happened as well as mine own plot
could have laid it. For, after I had run over the whole pedi-
gree of my thoughts, I gave myself to sing a little, which, as
you know, I ever delighted in, so now especially, whether it
be the nature of this clime to stir up poetical fancies, or
rather, as I think, of love, whose scope being pleasure will
not so much as utter his griefs but in some form of measure.
" But I had sung very little, when, as I think, displeased
with my bad music, comes master Dametas, with a hedging-
bill in his hand, chafing and swearing by the pantable* of
Pallas, and such other oaths as his rustical bravery could
imagine ; and when he saw me, I assure you, my beauty was
no more beholding to him than my harmony ; for, leaning
his hands upon his bill and his chin upon his hands, with the
voice of one that playeth Hercules in a play, but never had
his fancy in his head, the first word he spake unto me was —
'Am not I Dametas 1 Why, am not I Dametas .'" He needed
not to name himself, for Kalander's description had set such
a note upon him as made him very notable unto me ; and
therefore the height of my thoughts would not descend so
much as to make him answer, but continued on my inward
discourse ; which he, perchance witness of his own unworthi-
* Pajitable, the shoe or slipper. Ital. Pantufola ; Fr. Pantoufle.
"Some etymologists," says Richardson, who quotes this passage,
"determine this of Greek origin, and devise the compound Tracro-
(/)€AA^s; ■Ko.v^oinne, <^iKKh%,s2iber, a cork, formed of cork for lightness."
He gives also a citation from Digby's "Elvira," act v., wherein the
word is used as an adjuration —
" Now, by my grandame's pantable, 'ds pretty."
J
70 ARCADIA,— Book I.
ness, and therefore the apter to think himself contemned,
took in so heinous manner that, standing upon his tiptoes,
and staring as if he would have had a mote pulled out of his
eye, ' Why,' said he, * thou woman, or boy, or both, whatso-
ever thou be, I tell thee here is no place for thee ; get thee
gone. I tell thee it is the prince's pleasure ; I tell thee it is
Dametas' pleasure.' I could not choose but smile at him,
seeing him look so like an ape that had newly taken a purga-
tion : yet, taking myself with the manner, spake .these words
to myself : ' O spirit,' said I, ' of mine, how canst thou
receive any mirth in the midst of thine agonies ? and thou,
mirth, how darest thou enter into a mind so grown of late
thy professed enemy ?' ' Thy spirit !' said Dametas. ' Dost
thou think me'a spirit ? I tell thee I am Basilius' officer,
and have charge of him and his daughters.' ' O, only pearl,'
said I, sobbing, ' that so vile an oyster should keep thee !'
* By the combcase of Diana !' sware Dametas, ' this woman
is mad. Oysters and pearls ! Dost thou think I will buy
oysters ? I tell thee once again, get thee packing.' And
with that lifted up his bill to hit me with the blunt end of it ;
but, indeed, that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I
forgat all Zelmaneshi£,* and, drawing out my sword, the base^
ness of the villain yet made me stay my hand, and he who,
as Kalander told me, from his childhood ever fea red the
blade of a sword, ran back backward, with his hands above
his head, at least twenty paces, gaping and staring, with the
very grace, I think, of the clowns that, by Latona's prayers,
were turned into frogs. At length, staying, finding himself
without the compass of blows, he fell to a fresh scolding in
such mannerly manner as might well show he had passed
through the discipline of a tavern ; but, seeing me walk up
* Zelmaneship ; that is, he forgot that he was disguised as a woman.
ARCADIA.— Book I, 71 .
and down, without marking what he said, he went his way,
as I perceived after, to Basilius ; for, within a while, he came
unto me, bearing, indeed, shows in his countenance of an
honest and well-minded gentleman, and, with as much
courtesy as Dametas with rudeness, saluting me : ' Fair
lady,' said he, / it is nothing strange that such a solitary
place as this should receive solitary persons ; but much do I
marvel how such a beauty as yours is should be suffered to
be thus alone.' I, that now knew it was my part to play,
looking with a grave majesty upon him, as if I found in my-
self cause to be reverenced, 'They are never alone,' said I, ' that
are accompanied with nabk -thoughts.' ' But those thoughts,'
rephed Basihus, 'can in this your loneliness neither warrant
you from suspicion in others, nor defend you from melancholy
in yourself.' I then, showing a mislike that he pressed me so
far, ' I seek no better warrant,' said I, ' than my own con-
science, nor no greater pleasure than mine own contentation.'
' Yet virtue seeks to satisfy others,' said Basihus. ' Those
that be good,' said I ; ' and they will be satisfied as long as
they see no evil.' ' Yet will the best in this country,' said
Basihus, ' suspect so excellent beauty, being so weakl>
guarded.' ' Then are the best but stark naught,' answered I ; ,
' for open suspecting others comes of secret condemning"^'
themselves ; but in my country, whose manners I am in all
places to maintain and reverence, the general goodness, ,
which is nourished in our hearts, makes every one think the j
strength of virtue in another, whereof they find the assured
foundation in themselves.' ' Excellent lady,' said he, ' you
praise so greatly, and yet so wisely, your country, that I must
needs desire to know what the nest is out of which such birds
do fly.' ' You must first deserve it,' said I, ' before you may
obtain it.' ' And by what means,' said Basilius, ' shall I
deserve to know your estate?' 'By letting me first knovy
72 ARCADIA.— Book I.
yours,' answered I. 'To obey you,' said he, ' I will do it,
although it were so much more reason yours should be
known first, as you do deserve in all points to be preferred.
Know you, fair lady, that my name is Basilius, unworthily
lord of this country; the rest, either fame hath already
brought to your ears, or, if it please you to make this place
happy by your presence, at more leisure you shall understand
of me.' I that from the beginning assured myself it was he,
but would not seem I did so, to keep my gravity the better,
making a piece of reverence unto him, ' Mighty prince,' said
I, 'let my not knowing you serve for the excuse of my
boldness ; and the Httle reverence I do you impute to the
manner of my country, which is the invincible land of the
Amazons; myself, niece to Senicia, queen thereof, hneally
descended of the famous Penthesilea, sTain by the bloody
hand of Pyrrhus. I, having in this my youth determined to
make the world see the Amazons' excellencies, as well in
private as in public virtue, have passed some dangerous
adventures in divers countries, till the unmerciful sea deprived
me of my company ; so that shipwreck casting me not far
hence, uncertain wandering brought me to this place.' But
Basilius, who now began to taste of that which since he had
swallowed up, as I will tell you, fell to more cunning entreat-
ing my abode than any greedy host should use to well-paying
passengers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the
mark of my desires ; yet had I learned already so much, that
it was against my womanhood to be forward in my Dwn
wisli£S^_And therefore he, to prove whether intercessions in
fitter mouths might better prevail, commanded Dametas to
bring forthwith his wife and daughters thither, three ladies,
although of diverse, yet of excellent beauty.
" His wife in grave matron-like attire, with countenance
and gesture suitable, and of such fairness, being in the
ARCADIA.— Book I. 73
strength of her age, as, if her daughters had not been by,
might with just price have purchased admiration ; but they
being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would
think her a worthy mother of such children. The fair
Pamela, whose noble heart, I find, doth greatly disdain that
the trust of her virtue is reposed in such a lout's hands as
Dametas', had yet, to show an obedience, taken on shep-
herdish apparel, which was but of russet cloth, cut after their
fashion, with a straight body, open-breasted, the nether part
full of plaits, with long and wide sleeves; but, believe me,
she did apparel her apparel, and with the preciousness of
her body made it most sumptuous. Her hair at the full
length, wound about with gold lace, only by the comparison
to show how far her hair doth excel in colour : betwixt her
breasts, which sweetly rose up like two fair mountanets in
the pleasant vale of Tempe, there hung a very rich diamond,
set but in a black horn ; the word I have since read is this,.
' Yet still myself.' And thus particularly have I described
them, because you may know that mine eyes are not so
partial but that I marked them too. But when the ornament
of the earth, the model of heaven, the triumph of nature, the /
life of beauty, the queen of love, young Philoclea, appearedjo/
in her nymph-like apparel, her hair (alas, too poor a word,
why should I not rather call them her beams?) drawn up into
a net able to have caught Jupiter when he was in the form
of an eagle, her body (O sweet body !) covered with a light
taffeta garment, with the cast of her black eyes, black
indeed, whether nature so made them, that we might be the
more able to behold and bear their wonderful shining, or that
she, goddess-like, would work this miracle with herself, in
giving blackness the price above all beauty,— then, I say,
indeed methought the lilies grew pale for envy, the roses
methought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheeks, and
74 ARCADIA.— Book I.
the clouds gave place that the heavens might more freely
smile upon her ; at the least" the clouds of my thoughts quite
vanished, and my sight, then more clear and forcible than
ever, was so fixed there that I imagine I stood like a well-
wrought image, with some life in show but none in practice.
And so had I been like enough to have stayed long time, but
that Gynecia, stepping between my sight and the only
Philoclea, the change of object made me recover my senses ;
so that I could with reasonable good manner receive the
salutation of her and of the Princess Pamela, doing them yet
no further reverence than one princess useth to another.
But when I came to the never-enough praised Philoclea, I
could not but fall down on my knees, and taking by force
her hand, and kissing it, I must confess, with more than
womanly ardency, ' Divine lady,' said I, 'let not the world
nor these great princesses marvel to see me, contrary to my
manner, do this special honour unto you, since all, both men
and women, do owe this to the perfection of your beauty.'
But she, blushing like a fair morning in May at this my
singularity, and causing me to rise, ' Noble lady,^said she,
* it is no marvel to see your judgment much mistaken in my
beauty, since you begin with so great an error as to do more
honour unto me than to them to whom I myself owe all
service.' ' Rather,' answered I, with a bowed down counten-
ance, ' that shows the power of your beauty, which forced me
to do such an error, if it were an error.' ' You are so well
acquainted,' said she, sweetly, most sweetly smiling, ' with
your own beauty, that it makes you easily fall into the dis-
course of beauty.' ' Beauty in me ?' said I, truly sighing ;
' alas, if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed
presence hath imparted unto them,'
" But then, as I think Basilius willing her so to do, ' Well,'
said she, ' I must needs confess I have heard that it is a
ARCADIA,— Book L 75
great happiness to be praised of them that are most praise-
worthy ; and well I find that you are an invincible Amazon,
since you will overcome, though in a wrong matter. But if
my beauty be anything, then let it obtain thus much of you,
that you will remain some while in this company, to ease
your own travel and our solitariness.' ' First let me die,'
said I, ' before any word spoken by such a mouth should
come in vain.' And thus, with some other words of enter-
taining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to
the lodge ; truly a place for pleasantness, not unfit to flatter
solitariness ; for, it being set upon such an unsensible rising
of the ground as you are come to a pretty height before
almost you perceive that you ascend, it gives the eye lordship
over a good large circuit, which, according to the nature of
the country, being diversified between hills and dales, woods
and plains, one place more clear, another more darksome, it
seems a pleasant picture of nature, with lovely hghtsomeness
and artificial shadows. The lodge is of a yellow stone, built
in the form of a star, having round about a garden framed
into like points ; and beyond the garden ridings cut out, each
answering the angles of the lodge. At the end of one of
them is the other smaller lodge, but of like fashion, where the
gracious Pamela liveth ; so that the lodge seemeth not unlike
a fair comet, whose tail stretcheth itself to a star of less
greatness.
" Gynecia herself brought me to her lodging, and after-
wards I was invited to sup with them in the garden, where,
in a banqueting house, the table, which turned with certain
machinery, and we with it, was set near to an excellent water
work, where, by the casting of the water in a most cunning
manner, it makes, with the shining of the sun on it, a perfect
rainbow. But only mine eyes did overtake Philoclea, and
when the table was stayed and we began to feed, drank much
76 . ARCADIA.— Book /.
more eagerly of her beauty than my mouth did of any other
liquor. Now thus I had, as methought, well played my first
act, assuring myself that under that disguisement I should
find opportunity to reveal myself to the owner of my heart.
But who would think it possible, though I feel it true, that in
almost eight weeks' space I have lived here, having no more
company but her parents, and I, being familiar, as being a
woman, and watchful, as being a lover, yet could never find
opportunity to have one minute's leisure of private con-
ference, the cause whereof is as strange as the effects are to
me miserable? And, alas ! this it is.
" But at the first sight Basilius had of me, Cupid having
headed his arrows with my misfortune, he was stricken,
taking me for what I professed, with an affection for me
which is since grown into such doting love that I am choked
with his tediousness. But this is not all ; for Gynecia, being
a woman of excellent wit and strong working thoughts, be-
lieves that I am not a woman, and is jealous of my love for
her daughter, and is as busy about me as a bee — nay, is
devoured by a desperate affection. Thus, Musidorus, you
have my tragedy played unto you by myself, which, I pray
the gods, may not prove a tragedy." Therewith he ended,
making a full point of a hearty sigh.
Musidorus recommended to his best discourse all which
Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricate-
ness, that he could see no way to lead him out of the maze ;
yet perceiving this afTection so grounded that striving against
it did rather anger than heal the wound, and rather call his
friendship in question than give place to any friendly counsel,
" Well," said he, " dear cousin, since it hath pleased the
gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humour of
love, yet happy it is that your love is employed upon so rare
a woman ; for certainly a noble cause doth ease much a
ARCADIA.— Book I. 77
grievous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me as
that I cannot see wherein I can be serviceable unto you."
" I desire no greater service of you," answered Pyrocles,
" than that you remain secretly in this country, and some-
times come to this place, either late in the night or early in
the morning, where you shall have my key to enter, because,
as my fortune either amends or impairs, I may declare it unto
you, and have your counsel and furtherance ; and hereby I
will of purpose lead her, that is the praise and yet the stain
of all womankind, that you may have so good a view as to
allow my judgment ; and as I can get the most convenient
time, I will come unto you ; for, though by reason of yonder
wood you cannot see the lodge, it is hard at hand. But
now," said he, " it is time for me to leave you, and towards
evening we will walk out of purpose hitherward ; therefore
keep yourself close in that time." But Musidorus, bethinking
himself that his horse might happen to bewray him, thought
it best to return, for that day, to a village not far off, and de-
spatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to come
afoot thither, and so to keep that course afterward, which
Pyrocles very well liked of. " So farewell, cousin," said he:
" no more Pyrocles, nor Daiphantus : none but Zelmane ;
Zelmane is my name."
Zelmane returned to the lodge, where, inflamed by Philoclea,
watched by Gynecia, and tired by Basilius, she was like a
horse desirous to run and miserably spurred, but so short
reined as he cannot stir forward ; Zelmane sought occasion
to speak with Philoclea, Basilius with Zelmane, and Gynecia
hindered them all. If Philoclea happened to sigh, and sigh
she did often, as if that sigh were to be waited on, Zelmane
sighed also, whereto Basilius and Gynecia soon made up four
parts of sorrow. Therefore she endeavoured to beguile them
with country sports, with the bow and the angle, and now she
78 ARCADIA.— Book L
brought a seeled* dove, who, the bhnder she was, the higher
she strove. Another time a kite, which having a gut cun-
ningly pulled out of her, and so let fly, caused all the kites
in that quarter,! who, as oftentimes the world is deceived,
thinking her prosperous when indeed she was wounded,
made the poor kite find that opinion of riches may well be
dangerous.
But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more
gallant show ; for one evening, as Basilius returned from
having forced his thoughts to please themselves in such
small conquest, there came a shepherd, who brought him
word that a gentleman desired leave to do a message from
his lord unto him. Basilius granted, whereupon the gentle-
man came, and after the dutiful ceremonies observed in his
master's name, told him that he was sent from Phala.ntus of
Corinth to crave license that, as he had done in many other
/-courts, so he might in his presence defy all Arcadian knights
in the behalf of his mistress's beauty, who would, besides,
herself in person be present, to give evident proof what his
lance should affirm. The conditions of his challenge were,
that the defendant should bring his mistress's picture, which
being set by the image of Artesia — so was the mistress of
Phalantus named — who in six courses should have the better
of the other in the judgment of Basihus, with him both the
honours and the pictures should remain. Basilius, though
he had retired himself into that solitary dwelling, with inten-
tion to avoid rather than to accept any matters of drawing
company, yet, because he would entertain Zelmane, that she
might not think the time so gainful to him loss to her,
granted him to pitch his tent for three days not far from the
* With its eyes blindfolded
* \\ ith Its eyes bhndfolded.
+ This passage is obscure ; probably after "quarter" we should read
' to pursue her."
ARCADIA,— Book L 79
lodge, and to proclaim his challenge, that what Arcadian
knight — for none else but upon his peril was licensed to come
— would defend what he honoured against Phalantus should
have the like freedom of access and return. *
This obtained and published, Zelmane being desirous to
learn what this Phalantus was, having never known him further
than by report of his good justing, in so much as he was
commonly called " The fair man of arms," Basilius told her
that he had had occasion by one very inward with him to
know in part the discourse of his life, which was, that he was
bastard-brother to the fair Helen, queen of Corinth, and \
dearly esteemed of her, for his exceeding good parts, being
honourably courteous, and wronglessly valiant, considerately
pleasant in conversation, and an excellent courtier, without i
unfaithfulness, who, finding his sister's unpersuadable melan- j
chol}^, through the love of Amphialus, had for a time left her
court, and gone into Laconia, where, in the war against the
Helots, he had gotten the reputation of one that both durst
and knew. " To the prince and court of Laconia none was
more agreeable than Phalantus, and he, not given greatly to
struggle with his own disposition, followed the gentle current
of it, having a fortune sufficient to content, and he content
with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he saw and was
acquainted with this Artesia, whose beauty he now defends,
became her servant ; said himself, and perchance thought
himself, her lover. Taking love upon him like a fashion, he
courted this lady Artesia, who was as fit to pay him in his own
money as might be ; for she, thinking she di-d wrong to her
teauty if she were not proud of it, called her disdain of him j
chastity, and placed her honour in httle setting by his
honouring her, determining never to marry but him whom
she thought worthy of her, and that was one in whom all
worthinesses were harboured. And to this conceit not only
i\
80 ARCADIA.— Book I.
nature had bent her, but the bringing up she received at my
sister-in-law, Cecropia, had confirmed her, who, having in her
widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge because
her father had been a dear friend of her dead husband's, had
taught her to think that there is no wisdom but in including
both heaven and earth in one's self, and that love, courtesy,
gratefulness, friendship, and all other virtues are rather to be
taken on than taken in one's self And so good a disciple
she found of her, that, liking the fruits of her own planting,
she was content, if so her son could have liked of it, to have
wished her in marriage to my nephew Amphialus. But I
think that desire hath lost some of his heat since she hath
known that such a queen as Helen is doth offer so great a
price as a kingdom to buy his favour ; for, if I be not
deceived in my good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so
beautiful as that which looks under a crown. But Artesj a
indeed liked well of my nephew A mphial us, insomuch that
she hath both placed her only brother, a fine youth, called
Isnienus, to be his squire, and herself is content to wait upon
my sister, till she may see the uttermost what she may work
in Amphialus.
"And there, after the war of the Helots, this knight
Phalantus — at least, for tongue delight — made himself her
servant ; and she, so little caring as not to show mislike
thereof, was content only to be noted to have a notable
servant. For she made earnest benefit of his jest, forcing
him, in respect of his profession, to do her such services as
were both cumbersome and costly unto him, while he still
thought he went beyond her, because his heart did not com-
mit the idolatry. So that, lastly, she, I think, having in mind
to make the fame of her beauty an orator for her to Amphia-
lus, took the advantage one day, upon Phalantus' uncon-
scionable praising of her, and certain castaway vows, how
ARCADIA.— Book I. ' 8f
much he would do for her sake, to arrest his word as soon as
it was out of his mouth, and, by the virtue thereof, to charge
him to go with her through all the courts of Greece, and,
with the challenge now made, to give her beauty the princi-
pality over all other. Phalantus was entrapped, and saw
round about him, but could not get out. And now hath he
already passed the courts of Laconia, Elis, Argos, and Co-
rinth ; and, as many times it happens that a good pleader
makes a bad cause to prevail, so hath his lance brought cap-
tives to the triumph of Artesia's beauty such as, though
Artesia be among the fairest, yet in that company were to
have the pre-eminency ; for in those courts many knights
that had been in other far countries defended such as they
had seen and liked in their travel ; but their defence had
been such as they had forfeited the pictures of their ladies to
give a forced false testimony to Artesia's excellency. And now
lastly is he come hither, where he hath leave to try his fortune."
So, passing their time according to their wont, they waited
for the coming of Phalantus, who, the next morning, having
already caused his tents to be pitched near to a fair tree,
hard by the lodge, had upon the tree made a shield to be
hanged up, which the defendant should strike that would
call him to the maintaining his challenge. The impressa in
the shield was a heaven full of stars, with a speech signifying
that it was the beauty which gave the praise. Himself came
in next, after a triumphant chariot, made of carnation velvet
enriched with purple and pearl, wherein Artesia sat, drawn ;
by four winged horses, with artificial flaming mouths and
fiery wings, as if she had newly borrowed them of Phoebus.
Before her marched, two after two, certain footmen pleasantly ■
attired, who between them held one picture after another of
them that, by Phalantus' well running, had lost the prize in
the race of beauty, and, at every pace they stayed, turned
G
82 • ARCADIA.— Book I.
the pictures to each side so leisurely that with perfect judg-
ment they might be discerned. The first picture, followed
in order of time as they had been won, was that of Andro-
mana, queen of Iberia ; next that of the Princess of Elis,
of whom it may be said that "liking is not always the child
of beauty, for whatsoever one liketh is beautiful ;" for in her
visage was neither majesty, grace, nor favour ; yet she wanted
not a servant [lover]. Next was Artaxia, queen of Armenia ;
Erona, queen of Lycia ; Baccha and Leucippe, two ladies of
noble birth, the latter of a fine daintiness of beauty, one that
could do much good and meant no hurt.
But she that followed conquered, indeed, with being con-
quered, and might well have made all the beholders wait
upon her triumph, while herself were led captive. It was
the excellently-fair Queen Helen, whose jacinth hair, curled
by nature, but intercurled by art, like a fine brook through
golden sands, had a rope of fair pearl, which, now hiding,
now hidden by the hair, did, as it were, play at fast-and-
loose each with other, mutually giving and receiving rich-
ness ; in her face so much beauty and favour expressed as,
if Helen had not been known, some would rather have
judged it the painter's exercise to show what he could do
than the counterfeiting of any living pattern ; for no fault
the most fault-finding wit could have found, if it were not
that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little ;
but that little was such a spark of beauty as was able to
enflame a world of love ; for everything was full of a choice
fineness, that, if it wanted anything in majesty, it supplied it
with increase in pleasure ; and, if at the first it strake not
admiration, it ravished with delight ; and no indifferent soul
there was which, if it could resist from subjecting itself to
make it his princess, that would not long to have such a
playfellow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious,
ARCADIA.— Book I, 83
though the look, fixed with more sadness than it seemed
nature had bestowed to any that knew her fortune, bewrayed
that, as she used those ornaments, not for herself, but to
prevail with another, so she feared that all would not serve.
But Basilius could not abstain from praising PaLcthenia as
the perfect picture of a womanly virtue and wifely faithful-
ness, telling withal Zelmane how he had understood that,
when, in the court of Laconia, her picture — maintained by a
certain Sicyonian knight — was lost, through want rather of
valour than justice, her husband, the famous Argalus, would
in a chase have gone and redeemed it with a new trial. But
she, more sporting than sorrowing for her undeserved cham-
pion, told her husband she desired to be beautiful in no-
body's eye but his, and that she would rather mar her face
as evil as ever it was than that it should be a cause to make
Argalus put on armour. Then would Basilius have told
Zelmane that which he already knew of the rare trial of that
coupled affection, but the next picture made their mouths
give place to their eyes.
It was of a young maid, which sat pulling out a thorn out (
of a lamb's foot, with her look so attentive upon it as if that I
little foot could have been the circle of her thoughts ; her
apparel so poor, as it had nothing but the inside to adorn it ;
a sheep-hook lying by her with a bottle upon it. But, with
all that poverty, beauty played the prince, and commanded as
many hearts as the greatest queen there did. Her beauty
and her estate made her quickly to be known to be the fair
shepherdess Urania, whom a rich knight called Lacemon, far
in love with her, had unluckily defended.
The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being
captive, was Zelmane, daughter to the king Plexirtus. "But
divers besides these," said Basilius, " hath Phalantus won ;
but he leaves the rest, carrying only such who, either for
G 2
"^ '^^ r-,u. rt
84 ARCADIA.— Book I.
greatness of estate or of beauty, may justly glorify the glory
of Artesia's triumph."
Thus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any
matter subject to speak of with his mistress, while Phalantus
in this pompous manner brought Artesia, with her gentle-
women, into one tent, by which he had another, where they
both waited who would first strike upon the shield, while
Basilius, the judge, appointed sticklers and trumpets, to whom
the other should obey. But none that day appeared, nor the
next, till already it had consumed half his allowance of light;
but then there came in a knight, protesting himself as con-
trary to him in mind as he was in apparel ; fo r riialoa tus was
all in white, having on his bases* and caparison embroidered
a waving water, at each side whereof he had netting cast
over, in which were divers fishes naturally made, and so
prettily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to strive
and leap in the net. But the other knight, by name Nestor,
by birth an Arcadian, and in affection vowed to the fair
shepherdess, was all in black, with fire burning both upon his
armour and horse. His impressa in his shield was a fire
made of juniper, with this word, " More easy and more
sweet." But this hot knight was cooled with a fall, which at
the third course he received of Phalantus, leaving his picture
to keep company with the other of the same stamp. The next
was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia for deeds he had
done in arms, and much spoken of for the honourable love he
had long borne to Gynecia. But her champion went away as
much discomforted as discomfited. Then Thelamon for Polex-
ena, and Eurilion for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana, all brave
knights, all fair ladies, with their going down, lifted up the
balance of his praise for activity, and hers for fairness. ■
* Bases — the lower part of the coat armour which defended the loins.
/
ARCADIA.— Book I. 85
Upon whose loss, as the beholders were talking, ther'ls^
comes into the place where they ran a shepherd stripling —
for his height made him more than a boy, and his face would
not allow him a man — brown of complexion, whether by
nature or by the sun's familiarity, but very lovely withal, for
the rest so perfectly proportioned that Nature showed she
doth not like men who slubber up matters of mean account.
And well might his proportion be judged, for he had nothing
upon him but a pair of slops,* and upon his body a goat-skin,
which he cast over his shoulder, doing all things with so
pretty a grace that it seemed ignorance could not make him
do amiss because he had a heart to do well. Holding in his
right hand a long scarf, and so coming with a look full of
amiable fierceness, as in whom choler could not take away
the sweetness, he came towards the king, and, making a
reverence which in him was comely, because it was kindly —
" My liege lord," said he, " I pray you hear a few words,
for my heart will break if I say not my mind to you. I see
here the picture of Urania, which I cannot tell how nor why
these men, when they fall down, they say is not so fair as
yonder gay woman. But, pray God, I may never see my old
mother alive if I think she be any more match to Urania
than a goat is to a fine lamb, or than the dog that keeps our
flock at home is like your white greyhound that pulled down
the stag last day. And therefore I pray you let me be drest
as they be, and my heart gives me I shall tumble him on the
earth ; for, indeed, he might as well say that a cowslip is as
white as a lily. Or else, I care not, let him come with his
* Loose breeches; nether garments that slip on easily, such as
sailors wear.
' ' Who is come hither private for his conscience,
And brought munition with him, six great slops.
Bigger than three Dutch hoys."
— Ben Jonson, "Alchemist," act iii, sc. 2.
y
86 ARCADIA.— Book I.
great staff and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what
I can do to him."
Basilius saw it was the fine shepherd Lalus, whom once
he had afore him in pastoral sports, and had greatly
delighted him in his wit, full of pretty simplicity ; and there-
fore, laughing at his earnestness, he bade him be content,
since he saw the pictures of so great queens were fain to
follow their companion's fortune. But Lalus, even weeping
ripe, went among the rest, longing to see somebody that
would revenge Urania's wrong, and praying heartily for
everybody that ran against Phalantus, then beginning to
feel poverty that he could not set himself to that trial.
By-and-by when the sun, like a noble heart, began to show
his greatest countenance in his lowest estate, came in a
knight called Phebilus, an unknown lover of Philoclea ; his
armour and attire of a sea colour, his impress [cognisance] a
fish called a sepia, which being caught casts a black ink
about itself; his word was " Not so." At the second course
he was stricken quite out of the saddle. But the night com-
manded truce for those sports, and Phalantus, though in-
treated, would not leave Artesia, who in no case would come
into the house, having, as it were, sucked of Cecropia's breath
a mortal dislike against Basihus.
But the night, measured by the short ell of sleep, was soon
past over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars
leave to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius
to play his judge's part ; which he did, taking his wife and
daughters with him, Zelmane having locked her door so as
they would not trouble her for that time ; for already there
was a knight in the field ready to prove Hekn^ Corinth had
received great injury, both by the erring judgment of the
challenger and the unlucky weakness of her former defender.
The new knight was quickly known to be CHtophon,
ARCADIA.— Book I. 87
Kalander's son of Basilius' sister, by his armour, which, all
gilt, was so well handled that it showed like a glittering sand
and gravel interlaced with silver rivers. His device he had put in
the picture of Helen, which he defended ; it was the ermelin,* /^
with a speech that signified, " Rather dead than spotted." 7
But in that armour, since he had parted from Helen, he had
performed so honourable actions, still seeking for his two
friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphantus, that,
though his face were covered, his being was discovered, which
yet Basilius would not seem to do ; but, glad to see the trial
of him of whom he had heard very well, he commanded the
trumpets to sound, to which the two brave knights obeying,
they performed their courses, breaking their six staves with
so good, both skill in the hitting and grace in the manner,
that it bred some difficulty in the judgment. But Basilius
in the end gave sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus
had broken more staves upon the head, and that once Clito-
phon had received such a blow that he had lost the reins
of his horse, with his head well-nigh touching the crupper of
the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the judgment,
wherein he thought he had received wrong, that he omitted
his duty to his prince and uncle, and suddenly went his way,
still in the quest of them whom, as then, he had left by seek-
ing, and so yielded the field to the next comer, who, coming
in about two hours after, was no less marked than all the
rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking ; for
he had neither picture nor device, his armour of as old a
fashion, besides the rusty poorness, that it might better seem
a monument of his grandfather's courage. About his middle
he had, instead of bases, a long cloalt of silk, which as un-
handsomely, as it needs must, became the wearer, so that all
* Ermelin — small ermine, a favourite charge in heraldry, sym-
bolical of purity.
y
88 ARCADIA.— Book I.
that looked on measured his length on the earth already,
since he had to meet one who had been victorious of so many
gallants. But he went on towards the shield, and with a
sober grace strake it ; but as he let his sword fall upon it,
another knight, all in black, came rustling in, who strake the
shield almost as soon as he, and so strongly, that he brake
the shield in two. The ill-appointed knight, for so the be-
holders called him, angry with that, as he accounted, insolent
injury to himself, hit him such a sound blow that they that
looked on said it well became a rude arm. The other
answered him again in the same case, so that lances were
put to silence, the swords were so busy.
But Phalantus, angry of this defacing shield, came upon
the black knight, and with the pommel of his sword set fire
to his eyes, which presently was avenged, not only by the
black, but the ill-apparelled knight, who disdained another
should enter into his quarrel, so as whoever saw a matachin
dance,* to imitate fighting, this was a fight that did imitate
the matachin ; for they, being but three that fought, every
one had but two adversaries striking him, who struck the
third, and revenging, perhaps, that of him which he had
received of the other. But Basilius, rising himself, came to
part them, the sticklers' authority scarcely able to persuade
choleric hearers : and part them he did.
But, before he could determine, conres in a fourth, halting
on foot, who complained to Basilius, demanding justice on
* Alatachin dance. A dance with swords, at which they strike, as
if in earnest, at one another, receiving the blows on their bucklers.
In Spanish it is called Danza de matachenes, French viatassasiiis.
Skinner suggests that it is so called from the Ital. matto, mad,
because of the insane antics of the dancers. Douce thinks our
dance of fools and the matachin dance to be equivalent. " But that
I'm not a testy old fool like your father, Fd dance a matachin dance
■with you should make you sweat your best blood for it." —
Fletcher's "Elder Brother," act v. so. i.
ARCADIA.— Book I, 89
the black knight for having by force taken away the picture
of Pamela from him, which in little form he ware in a tablet,
and, covered with silk, had fastened it to his helmet, purposing,
for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesia's
length, not doubting but even in that little quantity the
excellency of that would shine through the weakness of the
other, as the smallest star doth through the whole element of
fire. And, by the way, he had met with this black knight,
who had, as he said, robbed him of it. The injury seemed
grievous ; but, when it came fully to be examined, it was found
that the halting knight, meeting the other, asking the cause
of his going thitherward, and finding it was to defend
Paniela's divine beauty against Artesia's, with a proud jollitie*
commanded him to leave that quarrel only for him, who was
only worthy to enter into it. But the black knight obeying
no such commandments, they fell to such a bickering that
he gat a halting and lost his picture. This understood by
Basilius, he told him he was no fitter to look to his own body
than another's picture ; and so, uncomforted therein, he sent
him away.
Then the question arising who should be the former [first]
against Phalantus of the black or the ill-apparelled knight,
who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy lout, he
had so well defended himself, of the one side was alleged
the having 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 have the precedence if,
he delivered the figure of his mistress to Phalantus, who,
asking him for it, " Certainly," said he : " her liveliest pic-
ture, if you could see ityds in my heart, and the best compari-
son I could make of her is of the sun and of all the other
heavenly beauties. But because, perhaps, all eyes cannot
Jollitle — -politeness, pretty behaviour.
90 ARCADIA.— Book I.
taste the divinity of her beauty, and would rather be dazzled
than taught by the light, if it be not clouded by some meaner
thing, know ye, then, that I defend that same lady whose
image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and, instead of
another, if you overcome me, you shall have me your slave
to carry that image in your mistress's triumph." Phalantus
easily agreed to the bargain, which readily he made his
own.
But, when it came to the trial, the ill-apparelled knight,
choosing out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first
course gave his head such a remembrance that he lost almost
his remembrance, he himself receiving the encounter of
Phalantus without any extraordinary motion, and at the
second gave him such a counterbuff that, because Phalantus
was so perfect a horseman as not to be driven from the
saddle, the saddle with broken girts was driven from the
horse, Phalantus remaining angry and amazed, because now,
being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise,
that disgrace befel him which he had never before known.
But the victory being by the judges given, and the trumpets
witnessed, to the ill-apparelled knight, Phalantus' disgrace
was ingrieved, in lieu of comfort, of Artesia, who, telling him
she never looked for other, bade hirn seek^some^ other mis-
tress. He, excusing himself, and turning over th^Iault to
fortune, " Then let that be your ill fortune too," said she,
*' that you have lost me."
" Nay, truly, madam," said Phalantus, " it shall not be so ;
for I think the loss of such a mistress will prove a great
gain ;" and so concluded — to the sport of Basilius, to see
young folks' love, that came in masked with so great pomp,
go out with so little constancy. But Phalantus, first profess-
ing great service to Basihus for his courteous intermitting his
soHtary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the
ARCADIA.— Book I. 91
castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go, vowing in him-
self that neither heart nor_.mQuth lay e. should ever any more
entangle him ; a ndjwith thatLjesolution 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 honour, as he knew he should have done, to the
picture of Pamela — the ill-apparelled knight (who was only
desired to stay because Basilius meant to show him to
Zelmane) pulled off his helmet, and then was known himself /
to be ^eJjnane, who that morning, as she told, while the^
others werebusy, had stolen out to the prince's stable, which
was a mile off from the lodge, had gotten a horse (they know-
ing it was Basilius' pleasure she should be obeyed), and, bor-
rowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come
upon the spur to redeem Philoclea's picture, which she said /
she could not bear (being one of that little wilderness-com-
pany) should be in captivity, if the cunning she had learnt
in her country of the noble Amazons could withstand it ;
and under that pretext fain she would have given a secret
passport to her affection.
And so many days were spent. But the one being come
on which, according to an appointed course, the shepherds
were to assemble and make their pastoral sports before
Basilius, Zelmane, fearing lest many eyes, and coming divers
ways, might hap to spy Musidorus, went out to warn him
thereof.
But, before she could come to the arbour, she saw, walking
from her-ward, a man in shepherdish apparel, who, being in
the sight of the lodge, it might seem he was allowed there. A
long cloak he had on, but that cast under his right arm,
wherein he held a sheep-hook so finely wrought that it gave
a bravery to poverty, and his raiments, though they were
mean, yet received they handsomeness by the grace of the
y
92 ARCADIA.— Book L
wearer, though he himself went but a kind of languishing
pace, with his eyes sometimes cast up to heaven, as though
his fancies strave to mount higher ; sometimes thrown down
to the ground, as if the earth could not bear the burthen of
his sorrows. At length, with a lamentable tune, he sung
these few verses : —
" Come, shepherd's weeds, become yom- master's mind,
Yield outward show what inward change he tries ;
Nor be abashed, since such a guest you find,
Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies.
" Come, shepherd's weeds, attend my woeful cries.
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas' voice ;
For other be those tunes which sorrow ties
From those clear notes which freely may rejoice ;
Then pour out plaint, and in one word say this :
Helpless his plaint who spoils himself of bliss. "
And having ended, he struck himself on the breast, saying,
" O miserable wretch, whither do thy destinies guide thee ?"
The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to overtake him,
which having done, she plainly perceived that it was her dear
friend Musidorus; whereat marvelling not a little, she de-
manded of him whether the goddess of those woods had
such a power to transform everybody ; or whether, as in all
enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in
this new alteration. " Alas !" said Musidorus, " what shall I
say, who am loth to say, and yet fain would have said ? I
find, indeed, that all is but lip v/isdom which wants experience.
I now (wpe is me !) do try what love c an__do. O Zelmane,
who will resist it must either have no wit, or put out his
eyes. Can any man resist his creation "i Certainly by love
we are made, and to love we are made. Beasts only cannot
discern beauty; and let them be in the roll of beasts that do
,not honour it." The perfect friendship Zelmane bare him,
ARCADIA,— Book T. ^3
and the great pity she, by good trial, had of such cases,
could not keep her from smiling at him, remembering how
vehemently he had cried out against the folly of lovers ; and
therefore, a little to punish him, "Why, how now, dear
cousin," said she, " you that were last day so high in the
pulpit against lovers, are you now become so mean an
auditor? Remember that love is a passion, and that a
worthy man's reason must ever have the masterhood." " I
recaiit7 I' recant,^' cried Musidorus, and withal falling down
prostrate. " O thou celestial or infernal spirit of love, or what
other heavenly or hellish title thou list to have (for effects of
both I find in myself), have 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," said Zelmane, " I see you well enough ; you make but
an interlude of my mishaps, and do but counterfeit thus, to
make me see the deformity of my passions ; but take heed
that this jest do not one day turn to earnest." " Now I
beseech thee," said Musidorus, taking her fast by the hand,
" even for the truth of our friendship, of which, if I be not
altogether an unhappy man, thou hast some remembrance,
and by those secret flames which I know have likewise nearly
touched thee, make no jest of that which hath so earnestly
pierced me through, nor let that be light to thee which is to
me so burdenous that I am not able to bear it." Musidorus,
both in words and behaviour, did so lively deliver out his
inward grief that Zelmane found, indeed, he was thoroughly
wounded ; but there rose a new jealousy in her mind, lest it
might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, in
right all hearts and Tyes should be inherited. And there-
fore, desirous to be cleared of that doubt, Musidorus shortly,
as in haste and full of passionate perplexedness, thus re-
counted his case unto her : —
94 ARCADIA.— Book I.
" The day," said he, " I parted from you, I being in mind
to return to a town from whence I came hither, my horse,
being before tired, would scarce bear me a mile hence, where,
being benighted, the sight of a candle I saw a good way
off guided me to a young shepherd's house, by name Menal-
cas, who, seeing me to be a straying stranger, with the
right honest hospitality which seems to be harboured in the
Arcadian breasts, and though not with curious costliness,
yet with cleanly sufficiency, entertained me ;and having, by
talk with him, found the manner of the country something
more in particular than I had by Kalander's report, I agreed
to sojourn with him in secret, which he faithfully promised
to observe ; and so hither to your arbour divers times re-
paired, and here by your means had the sight — O that it had
never been so ; nay, O that it might ever be so — of the god-
dess who, in a definite compass, can set forth infinite beauty.
" When I first saw her I was presently stricken ; and I, like
a foolish child, that, when anything hits him, will strike him-
self upon it, would needs look again, as though I would per-
suade mine eyes that they were deceived. But, alas ! well
have I found that love to a yielding heart 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 heart,
the deeper still it sank into it. But what mean I to speak of
the causes of my love, which is as impossible to describe as to
measure the backside of heaven ? Let this word suffice : I love.
And she, in good sobth, whom I love is Pairielii. And that
you may know I do so, it was I that came in black armour to
defend her picture, where I was both prevented and beaten
by you. And so I that waited here to do you service have
now myself most need of succour."
" But whereupon got you yourself this apparel ?" said
Zelmane. " I had forgotten to tell you," said Musidorus,
ARCADIA.— Book I. 9^
"though that were one principal matter of my speech, so
much am I now master of my own mind. But thus it hap-
pened : being returned to Menalcas' house, full of tormenting
desire, after a while fainting under the weight, my courage
stirred up my wit to seek for some relief before I yielded
to perish. At last this came into my head, that very evening
that I had to no purpose last used my horse and armour. I
told Menalcas that I was a Thessalian gentleman, who, by
mischance having killed a great favourite of the prince of
that country, was pursued so cruelly that in no place but,
either by favour or corruption, they would obtain my de-
struction ; and that therefore I was determined, till the fury
of my persecutors might be assuaged, to disguise myself
among the shepherds of Arcadia, and, if it were possible, to
be one of them that were allowed the prince's presence ; ^
because, if the worst should fall that I were discovered, yet,
having gotten the acquaintance of the prince, it might hap-
pen to move his heart to protect me. Menalcas, being of an
honest disposition, pitied my case, which my face, through
my inward torment, made credible ; and so, I giving him
largely for it, let me have this raiment, instructing me in all
particularities touching himself, or myself, which I desired
to know ; yet not trusting so much to his constancy as that
I would lay my life, and life of my life upon it, I hired him
to go into Thessalia to a friend of mine, and to deliver him a
letter from me, conjuring him to bring me as speedy an
answer as he could, because it imported me greatly to know
whether certain of my friends did yet possess any favour,
whose intercessions I might use for my restitution. He
willingly took my letter, which, being well sealed, indeed con-
tained other matter. For I wrote to my trusty servant
Calodoulus, whom you know, that as soon as he had de-
livered the letter, he should keep him prisoner in his house,
96 ARCADIA.— Book I.
not suffering him to have conference with anybody till he knew
my further pleasure : in all other respects that he should use
him as my brother. And here is Menalcas gone, and here I a
poor shepherd ; more proud of this estate than of any king-
/'dom ; so manifest it is that the highest point outward things
can bring one unto is the contentment of the mind ; with
which no estate — without which, all estates — be miserable.
Now have I chosen this day, because, as ]Menalcas told me,
the other shepherds are called to make their sports, and
hope that you will, with your credit, find means to get me
allowed among them."
"You need not doubt," answered Zelmane, "but that I willbe
your good mistress ; marry, the best way of dealing must be
by Dametas, who — since his blunt brain hath perceived some
favour the prince doth bear unto me, as without doubt the
most servile fliatteiy is lodged most easily in the grossest
capacity, for their ordinary conceit draweth a yielding to
their greater, and then have they not wit to discern the right
degrees of duty — is much more serviceable unto me than I can
find any cause to wish him. And here comes the very
person of Dametas." And so he did indeed, with a sword by
his side, a forest bill on his neck, and a chopping knife under
his girdle ; in which well provided for he had ever gone
since the fear Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner
saw her, but with head and arms he laid his reverence afore
her, enough to have made any man forswear all courtesy.
And then in Basihus' name he did invite her to walk down to
the place where that day they were to have the pastorals.
But when he spied Musidorus to be none of the shepherds
allowed in that place, he would fain have persuaded himself
to • utter some anger, but that he durst not ; yet muttering
and champing, as though his cud troubled him, he gave
occasion to Musidorus to come near him, and feign his tale
ARCADIA.— Book I. 97
of his own life : that he was a younger brother of the
shepherd Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in
his tender age to Athens, there to learn some cunning more
than ordinary, that he might be the better hked of the
prince ; and that, after his father's death, his brother
Menalcas, lately gone thither to fetch him home, was also
deceased, where, upon his death, he had charged him to seek
the service of Dametas, and to be wholly and ever guided by
him, as one in whose judgment and integrity the prince had
singular confidence. For token whereof, he gave to Dametas
a good sum of gold in ready coin, which Menalcas had
bequeathed unto him, upon condition he should receive this
poor Dorus into his service, that his mind and manners
might grow the better by his daily example.
Dametas, that of all manners of style could best conceive
of golden eloquence, being withal tickled by Musidorus'
praises, had his brain so turned that he became slave to that
which he that sued to be his, servant offered to give him, yet,
for countenance' sake, he seemed very squeamish, in respect
of the charge he had of the Princess Pamela. But such was
the secret operation of the gold, helped with the persuasion of
the Amazon Zelmane, who said it was pity so handsome a
young man should be anywhere else than with so good a
master, that in the end he agreed, if that day he behaved
himself to the liking of Basihus as he might be contented,
that then he would receive him into his service.
And thus went they to the lodge, where they found
Gynecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight
themselves there a while until the shepherds' coming ; ^
whither also taking Zelmane with them, as they went^^y
Dametas told them of Dorus, and desired he might be ac-
cepted there that day in stead of his brother Menalcas. As
for Basihus, he stayed behind to bring the shepherds, with
H
98 ARCADIA.— Book I.
whom he meant to confer, to breed the better Zelmane's liking,
which he only regarded, while the other beautiful band came
to the fair field appointed for the shepherdish pastimes.
It was indeed a place of delight, for through the midst of
it there ran a sweet brook, which did both hold the eye open
with her azure streams, and yet seek to close the eye with the
purling noise it made upon the pebble stones it ran over,
the field itself being set in some places with roses, and in all
the rest constantly preserving a flourishing green ; the roses
added such a ruddy show unto it as though the field were
bashful at his own beauty about it. As if it had been to
inclose a theatre, grew such sort of trees as either excellency
of fruit, stateliness of growth, continual greenness, or poetical
fancies have made at any time famous ; in most part of
which there had been framed by art such pleasant arbours
that, one answering another, they became a gallery aloft
from tree to tree almost round about, which below gave a
perfect shadow — a pleasant refuge then from the choleric
look of Phoebus.
In this place, while Gynecia walked hard by them, carrying
many unquiet contentions about her, the ladies sat them
down, inquiring divers questions of the shepherd Dorus,
who, keeping his eye still upon 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
discountenanced with unwonted presence. But Zelmane, that
saw in him the glass of her own misery, 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 margin of a
book, to note some saying worthy to be marked, began to
speak these words : "O Love, since thou art so changeable
in men's estates, how art thou so consta nt in the ir torments.^"
ARCADIA.— Book I. 99
when suddenly there came out of a wood a monstrous lion,
with a she-bear not far from him, of little less fierceness,
which, as they guessed, having been hunted in forests far
off, were by chance come thither, where before such beasts
had never been seen. Then care, not fear, or fear not for
themselves, altered something the countenances of the two
lovers ; but so, as any man might perceive, was rather an
assembling of powers than dismayedness of courage. Phi-
loclea no sooner espied the hon, but that, obeying the com-
mandment of fear, she leapt up and ran to the lodge-ward
as fast as her delicate legs could carry her, while Dorus
drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the
partridge on which the hawk is even ready to seize. But
the lion, seeing Philoclea run away, bent his race to her-
ward, and was ready to seize himself on the prey, when
Zelmane, to whom danger then was a cause of dreadlessness,
all the composition of her elements being nothing but fiery,
with swiftness of desire crossed him, and with force of affec-
tion strake him such a blow upon his chine that she opened
all his body, wherewith the valiant beast turning her with
open jaws, she gave him such a thrust through his breast
that all the lion could do was with his paw to tear off the
mantle and sleeve of Zelmane with a little scratch, rather
than a wound, his death-blow having taken away the effect
of his force ; but therewithal he fell down, and gave Zelmane
leisure to take off his head, to carry it for a present to her
lady Philoclea, who all this while, not knowing what was
done behind her, kept on her course, like Arethusa when she
ran from Alpheus. Zelmane, carrying the lion's head in her
hand, did not fully overtake her till they came to the presence
of Basilius. Neither were they long there but that Gynecia
came thither also, who had been in such a trance of musing
that Zelmane was fighting with the lion before she knew of
H 2
100 ARCADIA.— Book I.
any lion's coming ; but then affection resisting, and the soon
ending of the fight preventing all extremity of fear, she
marked Zelmane's fighting, and when the lion's head was off,
as Zelmane ran after Philoclea, so she could not find in her
b^ art but run after Zelmane.
Being all come before Basilius, amazed with this sight,
and fear having such possession in the fair Philoclea that
her blood durst not yet come to her face to take away the
/^ame of paleness from her most pure whiteness, Zelmane
kneeled down and presented the lion's head unto her.
" Only lady," said she, •' here see you the punishment of that
unnatural beast,* which, contrary to his own kind, w^ould
have wronged prince's blood, guided with such traiterous
eyes as durst rebel against your beauty." " Happy am I,
and my beauty both," answered the sweet Philoclea, then
blushing — for Fear had bequeathed his room to his kinsman
Bashfulness — " that you, excellent Amazon, were there to
teach him good manners." " And even thanks to that
beauty," answered Zelmane, " which can give an edge to the
bluntest swords." There Philoclea told her father how it
had happened, but as she had turned her eyes in her tale to
Zelmane, she perceived some blood upon Zelmane's shoulder,
so that starting with the lovely grace of pity, she showed
* Unnatural bcasf^i.e., to assault a le gitimate jprince. It was
fabled by the old heralds that the liQW woulcl not^'attack a prince of
blood royal. Hence, in coat armour, that charge signifies not only
valour but royalty. Shakespeare refers to this when Falstaff makes
his admirable excuse for cowardice, Henry IV., Part L, act ii. sc. 4 :
"Why, hear ye, my masters ; was it for me to kill the heir apparent?
Should I turn vxpon the true prince ? Why, thou knowest I am as
valiant as Hercules ; but beware instinct : the lion will not tonch the
tr2U' prince. Instinct is a great matter ; I was a coward upon
instinct ; I shall think the better of myself and thee during my life :
I for a valiant lion, thou for a trne prince." The excuse is excellent,
because so dehcately complimentary.
ARCADIA.—Sxok I. loi
it to her father and mother, who 'as the nurse sometimes "
with over-much kissing may forget to give the babe suck, so
had they, with too much dehghting in beholding and praising
Zelmane, left off to mark whether she needed succour. But.
then they ran both unto her, like a father and mother to an
only child, and, though Zelmane assured them it was nothing,
would needs see it, Gynecia having skill in chirurgery, an art
in those days much esteemed, because it served to virtuous
courage, which even ladies would, ever with the contempt of
cowards, seem to cherish. But, looking upon it, which gave
more inward bleeding wounds to Zelmane, for she might some-
times feel Philoclea's touch while she helped her mother, she
found it was indeed of no importance ; yet applied she a
precious balm unto it, of power to heal a greater grief.
But even then, and not before, they remembered Pamela,
and, therefore, Zelmane, thinking of her friend Dorus, was
running back to be satisfied, when they might all see Pamela
coming between Dorus and Dametas, having in her hand
the paw of a bear, which the shepherd Dorus had newly [
presented unto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, '
which, though she deserved death for her presumption, yet
was her wit to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a
choice. Dametas for his part came piping and dancing, the
merriest man in a parish ;■ and when he came so near as he
might be heard of Basilius, he would needs break through
his ears with a joyful song of their good success.
Being all now come together, and all desirous to know
each other's adventures, Pamela's noble heart would needs
gratefully make known the valiant mean of her safety,
which, directing her speech to her mother, she did in this
manner : " As soon," said she, " as ye were all run away,
and that I hoped to be in safety, there came out of the same
woods a horrible foul bear, which, fearing, belike, to deal
I02 ARCADIA.— Book L
while the lion was present, as soon as he was gone, came
furiously towards the place where I was, and this young
shepherd left alone by me. I truly, not guilty of any wisdom,
which since they lay to my charge, because they say it is
the best refuge against that beast, but even pure fear bring-
ing forth that effect of wisdom, fell down flat on my face,
needing not counterfeit being dead, for, indeed, I was little
better. But this young shepherd, with a wonderful courage,
having no other weapon but that knife you see, standing
before the place where I lay, so behaved himself that the
first sight I had, when I thought myself already near Charon's
ferry, was the shepherd showing me his bloody knife in token
of victory." " I pray you," said Zelmane, speaking to Dorus,
whose valour she was careful to have manifested, " in what
sort, so ill weaponed, could you achieve this enterprise ?"
"Noble lady," said Dorus, "the manner of these beasts'
fighting with any man is to stand up upon their hinder feet ;
and so this did ; and being ready to give me a shrewd
embracement, I think the god Pan (ever careful of the chief
blessing of Arcadia) guided my hand so just to the heart 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 princess. For my part, I am rather, with all
subjected humbleness, to thank her excellencies, since the
duty thereunto gave me heart to save myself, than to receive
thanks for a deed which was her only inspiring." And this
Dorus spoke, keeping affection as much as he could back
from coming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane, that
had the same character in her heart, could easily decipher it,
and therefore, to keep him the longer in speech, desired to
understand the conclusion of the matter, and how the honest
Dametas was escaped. "Nay," said Pamela, "none shall
take that office from myself, being so much bound to him as
ARCADIA.— Book I. 103
I am for my education." And with that word, scorn borrow-
ing the countenance of mirth, somewhat she smiled, and
thus spake on : — " When," said she, " Dorus made me
assuredly perceive that all cause of fear was passed, the
truth is, I was ashamed to find myself alone with this
shepherd ; and therefore, looking about me if I could see
anybody, at length we both perceived the gentle Dametas
lying with his head and breast as far as he could thrust
himself into a bush, drawing up his legs as close unto him
as he could ; for, like a man of a very kind nature, soon to f jj
take pity of himself, lie was full resolved not to see his own ' ' i
death. And when this shepherd pushed him, bidding him to
be of good cheer, it was a great while ere we could persuade
him that Dorus was not the bear, so that he was fain to pull
him out by the heels and show him the beast as dead as he
could wish it, which, you may believe me, was a ver)^ joyful
sight unto him. But then he forgat all courtesy, for he fell
upon the beast, giving it many a manful wound, swearing by
much it was not well such beasts should be suffered in a
commonwealth ; and then my governor, as full of joy as
before of fear, came dancing and singing before, as even now
you saw him."
" Well, well," said Basilius, " I have not chosen Dametas
for his fighting, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainness
and honesty ; and therein I know he will not deceive me."
But then he told Pamela (not so much because she should
know it as because he would tell it) the wonderful act
Zelmane had performed. Poor Dorus, though of equal desert,
yet not proceeding of equal estate, would have been left
forgotten had not Zelmane again, with great admiration,
begun to speak of him, asking whether it were the fashion or
no in Arcadia that shepherds should perform such valorous /
enterprises.
104 ARCADIA.— Book I.
This Basilius, having the quick sense of a lover, took
as though his mistress had given him a secret reprehension
that he had not showed more gratefuhiess to Dorus, and
therefore, as nimbly as he could, inquired of his estate, adding
promise of great rewards, among the rest offering to him, if
he would exercise his courage in soldiery, he would commit
some charge unto him under his lieutenant Philanax. But
Dorus, whose ambition climbed by another stair, having first
answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the
shepherd Menalcas, who among other was wont to resort to
the prince's presence, and excused his going to soldiery by
the unaptness he found in himself that way, he told Basilius
that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve
Dametas, and therefore for due obedience thereunto he would
think his service greatly rewarded if he might obtain by that
means to live in the sight of his prince, and yet practise his
own chosen vocation. Basilius, liking well his goodly shape
and handsome manner, charged Dametas to receive him like
a son into his house, saying that his valour and Dametas'
truth would be good bulwarks against such mischiefs as, he
sticked not to say, were threatened to his daughter Pamela.
Dametas, no whit out of countenance with all that had been
said, because he had no worse to fall into than his own,
accepted Dorus, and withal telling Basilius that some of the
shepherds were come, demanded in what place he would see
their sports, who first curious to know whether it were not
more requisite for Zelmane's hurt to rest than sit up at those
pastimes, and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly
desired to have the pastorals, Basilius commanded it should
be at the gate of the lodge, where the throne of the prince
being, according to the ancient manner, he made Zelmane
sit between him and his wife therein, who thought herself
between drowning and burning, and the two young ladies of
ARCADIA.— Book I. 105
either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and ears to
be delighted by the shepherds.
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 hastiness told BasiHus that his
mistress the lady Cecropia had sent him to excuse the mis-
chance of her beasts ranging in that dangerous sort, being
happened by the folly of the keeper, who, thinking himself
able to rule them, had carried them abroad, and so was
deceived, whom yet, if Basilius would punish for it, she was
ready to deliver. Basilius made no other answer but that
his mistress, if she had any more such beasts, should cause
them to be killed ; and then he told his wife and Zelmane of
it, because they should not fear those woods, as though they
harboured such beasts where the like had never been seen.
The First Eclogue.
BASILIUS, because Zelmane so would have it, used the
artificial day of torches to lighten the sports their in-
ventions could minister ; and, because many of the shepherds
were but newly come, he did in a gentle manner chastise
their negligence with making them (for that night) the torch-
bearers ; and the other he willed with all freedom of speech
and behaviour to keep their accustomed method, which while
they prepared to do, Dametas, who much disdained, since his
late authority, all his old companions, brought his servant
Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them, and
himself stood like a director over them, with nodding, gaping
winking, or stamping, showing how he did like or mislike
those things he did not understand. The first sports the
shepherds showed were full of such leaps and gambols as
io6 ARCADIA.— Book I.
being according to the pipe (which they bare in their mouths,
even as they danced), made a right picture of their god
Pan, and his companions the satyrs. Then would they cast
away their pipes, and, holding hand in hand, dance, as it
were, in a braul,* by the only cadence of their voices, w^hich
they would use in singing some short couplets, whereto the
one half beginning, the other half should answer, saying —
" We love, and have our loves rewarded :"
the others would answer —
" We love, and are no whit regarded ;"
the first again —
" We find most sweet affection's snare ;"
with like tune it should be, as in a quire, sent back again —
" That sweet, but sour, despairful care."
A third time, likewise, thus —
" Who can despair whom hope doth bear ?"
the answer —
' ' And who can hope that feels despair ?"
Then, joining all their voices, and dancing a faster measure,
they would conclude with some such words —
" As without breath no pipe doth move,
No music kindly without love."
Having varied both their song and dances into divers sorts
of inventions, their last sport was, one of them to provoke
another to a more large expressing of his passions ; which
Thyrsis (accounted one of the best singers amongst them),
having marked in Dorus' dancing no less good grace and
handsome behaviour than extreme tokens of a troubled mind,
* A dance imported from France, spelt at first braiisle.
" Now making layes of love and lovers paine,
Bransles, ballads, virelayes, and verses vaine."
— Spenser, Faerie Queene, bk. iii. c. lo.
ARCADIA.— Book I. 107
began first with his pipe, and then with his voice, to challenge
Dorus in song, and was by him answered in the like sort.
But before any other came in to supply the place, Zelmane,
having heard some of the shepherds by chance name Strephon ,
and Claius, supposing thereby they had been present, was^
desirous both to hear them for the sake of their friendly love,
and to know them for their kindness towards her best-
loved friend. Much grieved was Basilius that any desire of
his mistress should be unsatisfied ; and, therefore, to repre-
sent them unto her (as well as in their absence it might be),
he commanded one Lamon, who had at large set down their
country pastimes and first love to Urania, to sing the whole
discourse, which he did in this manner* : —
A SHEPHERD'S tale no height of style desires,
To raise in words what in effect is low ;
A plaining song plain-singing voice requires,
For warbling notes from cheering [heart do] flow.
* In this maujiLT. Much of the poetry which abounds in this part
of the book the Editor has found it necessary, in compressing the
romance, to excise. It is believed that this will not be regretted by
the reader, because, to speak with critical truth, but due reverence,
by far the greater part — nearly all that is omitted — is somewhat
wearisome and tedious. The verses seem to be poetical exercises of
Sidney; some are Sapphics, e.g., piinted literatim —
"If mine eyes can speak, to do heartie errand,
Or mine eyes language she do hap to judge of,
So that eie's message be of her received,
Hope we do live yet."
Others are "songs" of Hexameters, in which Dorus and Zelmane
answer each other, "in like tune (?) and verse," and too often make
the verse halt for it. Thus —
" Here you fully do find the strange operation of love,
How to the woods love run's, as well as ride's to the Palace ;
Neither he bear's reverence to a Prince, nor pitie to beggar."
It is presumed that few readers will regret the omission of some
pages of such matter ; especially since the delightful love episode,
which is worthy of Spenser, has been retained.
lo8 ARCADIA.— Book I.
I, then, whose burden'd breast but thus aspires
Of shepherds two the seely cause to show,
Need not the stately Muses' help invoke
For creeping rimes, which often sighings choice.
But you, O you, that think not tears too dear
To spend for harms, although they touch you not,
And deign to deem your neighbours' mischief near,
Although they be of meaner parents got :
You I invite with easy ears to hear
The poor-clad truth of love's wrong-order'd lot.
Who may be glad, be glad you be not such ;
Who share in woe, weigh others have as much.
There was (O seldom-blessed word of " was " !)
J A pair of friends, or rather one call'd two,
Train'd in the life which on short-bitten grass
In shine or storm must set the clouted shoe.
He that the other in some years did pass,
And in those gifts that years distribute do,
Was Claius call'd (ah, Claius, woeful wight !) ;
The later born, yet too soon, Strephpn hight.
Epeirus high was honest Claius' nest;
To Strephon dole's land first breathing lent :
But east and' west were join'd by friendship's
best.
As Strephon's ear and h^axt to Claius bent,
So Claius' soul did in his Strephon rest.
Still both their flocks flocking together went,
As if they would of owners' humour be.
As eke their pipes did well as friends agree.
Claius for skill of herbs and shepherd's art
Among the wisest was accounted wise,
Yet not so wise as of unstained heart :
Strephon was young, yet mark'd with humble eyes
ARCADIA.— Book I. 109
their flocks, and cur'd their
So that the grave did not his words despise.
Both free of mind, both did clear deahng love, y
And both had skill in verse their voice to move.
Their cheerful minds, till poisoned was their cheer,
The honest sports of earthly lodging prove :
Now for a clod-like hare in form they peer ;
Now bolt and cudgel squirrel's leap do move ;
Now the ambitious lark with mirror clear
They catch, while he (fool !) to himself makes love ;
And now at keels* they try a harmless chance,
And now their cur they teach to fetch and dance.
When merry May first early calls the morn,
With merry maids a-Maying they do go :
Then do they pull from sharp and niggard thorn
The plenteous sweets (can sweets so sharply grow ?),
Then some green gowns are by the lasses worn
In chastest plays, till home they walk arow ;
While danrr'strout the May-pole is begun.
When, if need were, they could at quintin run.
While thus they ran a low but levell'd race, "
While thus they liv'd (this was indeed a life),
* Keels — keel, ccclan. Sax., is "to cool;" and a "keel," a vessel
wherein liquors stand to cool. Probably Sidney, who adopted a
phonetic spelling, intends by this word ' ' keels " the French game of
qjiilles, in Saxon kayles, which was similar to our nine-pins, save that
the pins were set up not in three rows, but in a line, and at these the
player threw a cudgel; so that it has been suggested that, with the
variation of having the pins (sticks) crowned with toys, the game is
still common at our fairs and races. In the Royal MS. 2, b. vii.,
there is an illumination of this game — eight pins, whereof three have
been knocked down standing in a row. In Devonshire, a "keel-
alley" is a bowling-alley. I have not thought it worth while to
explain more known games, as running at quintin (quintain), &c.,
believing such would be diverting the attention of the intelligent
reader to no purpose.
no ARCADIA.— Book I.
With nature pleas'd, content with present case,
Free of proud fears, brave begg'ry, smiling strife
I Of chmb-fall court, the envy-hatching place ;
I While those restless desires in great men rife,
To visit so low folks did much disdain :
This while, though poor, they in themselves did reign.
One day (O day that shin'd to^make them dark !),
W^hile they did ward sun-beams with shady bay,
And Claius, taking for his youngling cark [care]
(Lest greedy eyes to them might challenge lay),
Busy with ochre did their shoulders mark
(His mark a pillar was devoid of stay.
As bragging that free of all passions' moan.
Well might he others bear, but lean to none),
Strephon with leafy twigs of laurel tree
A garland made on temples for to wear ;
For him then chosen was the dignity
I Of village lord that Whitsuntide to bear.
And full, poor fool ! of boyish bravery.
With triumph's shows would show he nought did fear.
But fore-accounting oft makes builders miss:
They found, they felt, they had no lease of bhss ;
For ere that either had his purpose done.
Behold (beholding well it doth deserve)
They saw a maid, who thitherward did run
To catch her sparrow, which from her did swerve
As she a black silk cap on him begun
To set for foil of his milk-white to serve.
She chirping ran, he peeping flew away.
Till hard by them both he and she did stay.
Well for to see, they kept themselves unseen.
And saw this fairest maid, of fairer mind ;
I By fortune mean, in nature born a^gueen ;
ARCADIA.— Book I. in
How well apaid she was her bird to find ;
How tenderly her tender hands between,
In ivory cage, she did the micher* bind ;
How rosy, moisten'd lips about his beak ^
Moving, she seern'd at once to kiss and speak.
This done — but done with captive-killing grace —
Each motion seeming shot from Beauty's bow,
With length laid down she deck'd the lovely place.
Proud grew the grass that under her did grow.
The trees spread out their arms to shade her
face;
But she, on elbow lean'd, with sighs did show
No grass, no trees, nor yet her sparrow might
The long-perplexed mind breed long delight.
She troubled was (alas that it mought be !)
With tedious brawlings of her parents dear,
Who would have her in will and word agree^/'
To wedAntaxius, their neighbour near.
A herdman rich, of much account was he.
In whom no evil did reign, nor good appear.
In sum, such one she lik'd not his desire :
Fain would be free, but dreadeth parents' ire.— ^
Kindly, sweet soul ! she did unkindness take,
That bagged baggage of a miser's mud
Should price of her, as in a market, make ;
But gold can gild a rotten piece of wood.
To yield she found her noble heart did ache ;
To strive she fear'd how it with virtue stood.
Thus doubting clouds o'ercasting heav'nly brain,
At length in rows of kiss-cheeks tears they rain.
* Micher — idler, still preserved as mike in our slang.
" Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a micher?'''
Shaks. Hen. IV. ii. 4.
112 ' ARCADIA.— Book I.
_Cupid, the wag that lately conquer'd had
Wise counsellors, stout captains, puissant kings,
And tied them fast to lead his triumph bad,
Glutted with them, now plays with meanest things.
So oft in feasts with costly changes clad
To crammed maws a sprat new stomach brings :
So lords, with sport of stag and heron full.
Sometimes we see small birds from nests do pull.
^ So now for prey these shepherds two he took.
Whose metal stiff he knew he could not bend
With hearsay pictures or a window-look ;
With one good dance, or letter finely penn'd,
That were in court a well-proportion'd hook,
W^here piercing wits do quickly apprehend,
\y^ Their senses rude plain objects only move,
And so must see great cause before they love.
Therefore Love, arm'd in her now^ takes the field,
Making her beams his bravery and might ;
Her hands, which pierc'd the soul's sev'n- double
shield.
Were now his dart, leaving his wonted fight.
Brave crest to him her scorn-gold hair did yield ;
His complete harness was her purest white.
But, fearing lest all white might seem too good,
In cheeks and lips the tyrant threatens blood.
Besides this force, within her eyes he kept
A fire, to burn the prisoners he gains.
Whose boiling heart increased as she wept ;
For ev'n in forge cold water fire maintains.
Thus proud and fierce unto the hearts he stept
Of them poor souls ; and, cutting reason's reins, '-"'
Made them his own before they had it wist.
But, if they had, could sheep-hooks this resist ?
ARCADIA,— Book I. 113
Claius straight felt, and groaned at the blow,
And call'd, now wounded, purpose to his aid ;
Strephon, fond boy, delighted, did not know
That it was Love that shin'd in shining maid ;
But, lick'rous-poison'd, fain to her would go,
If him new learned manners had not stay'd.
For then Urania homeward did arise.
Leaving in pain their well-fed hungry eyes.
She went, they stay'd, or, rightly for to say,
She stay'd in them, they went in thought with her ;
Claius, indeed, would fain have pull'd away
This mote from out his eye, the inward burr ;
And now, proud rebel, 'gan for to gainsay .«
The lesson which but late he learn'd too furr,*^
Meaning with absence to refresh the thought
To which her presence such a fever brought.
Strephon did leap with joy and jolHty,
Thinking it just more therein to delight
Than in good dog, fair field, or shading tree.
So have I seen trim books in velvet dight,
With golden leaves and painted babery,
Of silly boys please unacquainted sight ;
But when the rod began to play his part.
Fain would, but could not, fly from golden smart.
He quickly learn'd Urania was her name,
And straight, for failing, grav'd it in his heart ;
He knew her haunt, and haunted in the same,
And taught his sheep her sheep in food to thwart,
* We have before noticed Sidney's phonetic spelling, hence this
word to rhyme with "burr." Mr. Lowell, in his Second Edition of
the " Biglow Papers," cites this as an inelegancy, but surely hyper-
critically. ''Far" is continually pronounced "furr" by the Irish, prob-
ably from the early English invaders; just as they call "tea" "tay"
{fhe), as did Swift, Pope, and all the best society of Queen Anne's time.
I
114 ARCADIA,— Book I.
Which soon as it did hateful question frame,
He might on knees confess his faulty part,
And yield himself unto her punishment,
While nought but game the self-hurt wanton meant.
Nay, even unto her home he oft would go,
Where, bold and hurtless, many play he tries,
Her parents liking well it should be so —
For simple goodness shined in his eyes.
There did he make her laugh in spite of woe,
So as good thoughts of him in all arise,
While into none doubt of his love did sink.
For not himself to be in love did think.
But glad desire, his late embosom'd guest,
Yet but a babe, with milk of sight he nurst.
Desire, the more he suck'd, more sought the breast.
Like dropsy-folk still drink to be athirst.
Till one fair ev'n, an hour ere sun did rest,
Who then in Lion's cave did enter first,
By neighbours pray'd, she went abroad thereby,
At barley-break* her sweet, swift foot to try.
* Barley-break — Gifford says that this game, to which many
allusions occur in the old dramatists, was played by six persons, three
of each sex, coupled by lot. A piece of ground was then chosen,
divided into three parts, the middle of which was called Hell. It
was the object of the couple condemned to this division to catch the
others who advanced from the other compartments ; when successful,
a change took place, and Hell was occupied by the couple excluded
by preoccupation from the other places. In this "catching " there
was, however, some difficulty, as, by the rules, the middle couple
were not to separate, while the others might break hands whenever
they found themselves hard pressed. When all had been taken, the
last couple were said to be in Hell, and the game ended, J?i tefiui
labor! Beaumont and Fletcher, "Scornful Lady," act v. sc. 4,
refer thus to the game: " Here's the last couple in HelL" Sir John
Suckling prettily morahses the play : —
" Love, Reason, Hate, did once bespeak
Three mates to play at barley-break ;
ARCADIA,— Book I. 115
Never the Earth on hi^round shoulders bare
A maid train'd up from high or low degree
That in her doings better could compare
Mirth with tespect, few words with courtesyp^
A careless comeliness with comely care,
Self-gu^rd with mildness, sport with majesty,
Which made her yield to deck this shepherds' band ;
And still, believe me, Strephon was at hand.
Afield they go, where m^ny lookers be,
Aiid thou seek-sorrow Claius them among ;
Indeed, thou said'st it was thy friend to see,
Strephon, whose absence seem'd unto thee long : v
"While most with her, he less did keep with thee.
No, no, it was in spite of wisdom's song.
Which absence wish'd, love play'd a victor's part:
The heav'n-love loadstone drew fhy iron heart.
Then couples three be straight allotted there,
They of both ends the middle two do fly ;
The two that, in mid-place. Hell called were,
Must strive, with waiting foot and watching eye.
Love Folly took ; and Reason Fancy ;
And Hate consorts Mnth Pride : so dance they;
Love coupled last, and so it fell
That Love and Folly were in Hell.
*' They break, and Love would Reason meet ;
But Hate was nimble on her feet : .
^ancy looks for Pride, and thither
Hies, and they two hug together ;
Yet this new coupHng still doth tell -i^
That Love and Folly were in Hell.
" The rest do break again, and Pride
Hath now got Reason on her side ;
Hate and Fancy meet, and stand
Untouch'd by Love in Folly's hand ;
Folly was dull, but Love ran well,
So Love and Folly were in Hell."-
■ ARCADIA.— Book I.
catch of them, and them to ttell to bear,
hat they, as well as they, Hell may supply ;
Like some which seek to salve their blotted name
With other's blot, till all do taste of shame-
There may you see, soon as the middle two
Do coupled towards either couple make,
They, false and fearful, do their hands undo,
Bjothe r his brother, fdend doth his frLend forsake,
Heeding himself, cares not how fellow do,
But of a stranger mutual help doth take ;
As perjur'd cowards in adversity.
With sight of fear, from friends to fremb'd* do fly.
But never did Medea's golden weed
On Creon's child his poison sooner throw
Than those delights through all their sinews breed
A creeping sergent, like of mortal woe :
Till she brake from their arms (although, indeed,
Going from them, from them she could not go),
And, farewelling the flock, did homeward wend ;
And so that even the barley-break did end.
It ended ; but the other woe began —
Began, at least, to be conceiv'd as woe ;
For then wise Claius found no absence can
Help him who can no more her sight forego.
He found man's virtue isJbutparLjpfjiiAn ;
And part must follow w^here whole man doth go.
, Y i He found that Reason's self now reasons found
Jf '"^^To fasten knots which Fancy first had bound.
So doth he yield, so takes he on his yoke.
Not knowing who did draw with him therein.
Strephon, poor youth, because he saw no smoke,
* Fre/ud' d— Those who were strangers, aliens ; A. S./rem; Dutc
Vrejub; Germ. Fremde^ a foreigner.
ARCADIA.— Book L wj
Did not conceive what fire he had within;
But after this to greater rage it broke,
Till of his hfe it did full conquest win, ^
First kiUing mirth, then banishing all rest ;
Filling his eyes with tears, with sighs his breast.
Then sports grew pains, all talking tedious ;
On thoughts he feeds ; his looks their figure change ;
The day seems long, but night is odious ;
No sleeps, but dreams ; no dreams, but visions
strange ;
Till, finding still his evil increasing thus,
One day he with his flock abroad did range,
And, coming where he hop'd to be alone,
Thus, oh a hillock set, he made his moan :
" Alas ! what weights are these that load my heart ?
I am as dull as winter-sterved sheep,
Tir'd as a jade in over-loaden cart ;
Yet thoughts do fly, though I can scarcely creep.
All visions seem : at every bush I start ;
Drowsy am I, and yet can rarely sleep.
Sure I bewitched am ; it is even that :
Late, near a cross, I met an ugly cat.
For, but by charms, how fall these things on me,
That from those eyes, where heav'nly apples beam,
Those eyes which nothing like themselves can see,
Of fair Urania, fairer than a green
Proudly bedeckt in April's livery,
A shot unheard gave me a wound unseen ?
He was invisible that hurt me so*;
And none invisible but spirits can go.
When I see her, my sinews shake for fear ;
And yet, dear soul, I know she hurteth none.
Amid my flock with woe my voice I tear ;
1 1 8 ARCADIA.— Book I.
And, but bewitch'd, who to his flock would moan ?
Her cherry hps, milk hands, and golden hair
I still do see, though I be still alone ;
/^ Now make me think that there is not a fiend
Who, hid in angel's shape, my life would end.
The sports wherein I wonted to excel,
Come she and sweet the air with open breast,
Then so I fail when most I would do well,
That at me, so amaz'd, my fellows jest.
Sometimes to her news of myself to tell
I go about ; but then is all my best
Wry words and stamm'ring, or else doltish dumb.
Say, then, can this but of enchantment come ?
But you, my pipe, whilom my chief delight.
Till strange delight delight to nothing ware ;
And you, my flock, care of my careful sight,
While I was I, and so had cause to care ;
And thou, my dog, whose ruth and valiant might
Made wolves, not inward wolves, my ewes to spare :
Go you not from your master in his woe ;
Let it suffice that he himself forego.
For though like wax this magic makes me waste,
Or like a lamb whose dam away is fet.
Stolen from her young by thieves' inchoosing haste.
He treble baas for help, 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 mine eyes had their curse from blessed ey'n.
J^e you with me while I unheard do cry,
While I do score my losses on the wind.
While I in heart my will write ere I die,
In which by will my will and wits I bind
ARCADIA.— Book I. 119
Still to be hers, about her aye to fly,
As this same sprite about my fancies blind
Doth daily haunt, but so that mine become
As much more loving as less cumbersome.
Alas ! a cloud hath overcast mine eyes ;
And yet I see her shine amid the cloud.
Alas ! of ghosts I hear the ghastly cries ;
Yet there, meseems, I hear her singing loud.
This song she sings, in most commanding wise :
* Come, shepherd's boy, let now thy heart be bow'd,
To make itself to my least look a slave ;
Leave sleep, leave all, I will no piecing have.*
I will ! I will ! alas ! alas ! I will !
Wilt thou have more? more have if more I be.
Away, ragg'd rams — care I what murrain kill ?
Out, shrieking pipe, made of some witched tree ;
Go, bawling cur, thy hungry maw go fill /
On you, foul flock, belonging not to me."
With that his dog he henc'd, his flock he curst.
With that (yet kissed [it first] ) his pipe he burst.
This said, this done, he rose, even tir'd with rest,
With heart as careful as with careless grace,
With shrinking legs, but with a swelling breast.
With eyes which threaten'd they would drown his
face,
Fearing the worst, not knowing what were best,
And, giving to his sight a wand'ring race.
He saw behind a bush where Claius sate,
His well-known friend, but yet his unknown mate :
Claius, the wretch who lately yielden was
To bear the bonds which time nor wit could break,
With blushing soul at sight of judgment's glass,
While guilty thoughts accus'd his reason weak,
I20 ARCADIA.— Book 1.
This morn alone to lonely walk did pass,
Within himself of her dear self to speak ;
Till Strephon's plaining voice him nearer drew,
. Where by his words his self-like case he knew.
For hearing him so oft with words of woe
Urania name, whose force he knew so well,
He quickly knew what witchcraft gave the blow,
Which made his Strephon think himself in hell.
Which when he did in perfect image show
To his own wit, thought upon thought did swell,
Breeding huge storms within his inward part.
Which thus breath'd out with earthquake of his heart.
As Lamon would have proceeded, Basilius, knowing, by
the wasting of the torches, that the night also was far wasted,
and withal remembering Zelmane's hurt, asked her whether she
thought it not better to reserve the complaint of Claius till
another day. Which she, perceiving the song had already
worn out much time, and not knowing when Lamon would
end, being even now stepping over to a new matter, though
much delighted with what was spoken, willingly agreed unto.
And so of all sides they went to recommend themselves to
the elder brother of Death.
The E7id of the First Book.
TJie Second Book.
N these pastoral times a great number of days
were sent to follow their flying predecessors, while
the cup of poison, which was deeply tasted of the
noble company, had left no sinew of theirs without
mortally searching into it ; yet never manifesting
his venomous work, till once, that the night, parting away
angry that she could distil no more sleep into the eyes of
lovers, had no sooner given place to the breaking out of the
morning light, and the sun bestowed his beams upon the
tops of the mountains, but that the woeful Gynecia, to whom
rest was no ease, had left her loathed lodging, and gotten
herself into the solitary places those deserts were full of,
going up and down with such unquiet motions as a grieved
and hopeless mind is wont to bring forth. There appeared
unto the eyes of her judgment the evils she was like to run
into, with ugly infamy waiting upon them ; she felt the terrors
of her own conscience. She was guilty of a long-exercised
virtue, which made this vice the fuller of deformity. The
uttermost of the good she could aspire unto was a mortal
wound to her vexed spirits ; and, lastly, no small part of her
evils was that she was wise to see her evils. Insomuch, that,
having a great while thrown her countenance ghastly about
her, as if she had called all the powers of the world to be
y
122 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
witness of her wretched estate, at length casting up her
watery eyes to heaven, " O sun," said she, " whose unspotted
Hght directs the steps of mortal mankind, art thou not
ashamed to impart the clearness of thy presence to such a
dust-creeping worm as I am ? O you heavens, which con-
tinually keep the course allotted unto you, can none of your
influences prevail so much upon the miserable Gynecia as
to make her preserve a course so long embraced by her ?
O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my
heart can people you with wild ravenous beasts, which in
you are wanting? O virtue, where dost thou hide thyself?
What hideous thing is this which doth eclipse thee ? Or is
it true that thou wert never bat a vain name, and no essen-
tial thing, which hast thus left thy professed servant when
she had now need of thy lovely presence ? O imperfect pro-
portion of reason, which can too much foresee, and too little
prevent ? Alas ! alas !" said she, " if there were but one hope
for all my pains, or but one excuse for all my faultiness !
But, wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour,
and my evil deserving doth exceed my evil fortune. For
nothing else did my husband take this strange resolution to
live so solitarily ; for nothing else have the winds delivered
this strange guest to my country ; for nothing else have the
destinies reserved my Hfe to this time, but that only I, most
wretched I, should become a plague to myself, and a shame
to womankind. Yet if my desire, how unjust soever it be,
might take effect, though a thousand deaths followed it, and
every death followed with a thousand shames, yet should not
my sepulchre receive me without some contentment. But,
alas ! though sure I am that Zelmane is such as can answer
my love, yet as sure I am that this disguising must needs
come for some foretaken conceit ; and then, wretched Gynecia,
where canst thou find any small ground-plot for hope to
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 123
y
dwell upon ? No, no, it is Philoclea his heart is set upon. Is
my daughter I have borne to supplant me ? But, if it be so,
the life I have given thee, ungrateful Philoclea, I will sooner
with these hands bereave thee of, than my birth shall glory
she hath bereaved me of my desire. In shame there is no
comfort but to be beyond all bounds of shame."
Having thus spoken, the hapless Gynecia, wandering still
further, hears a lute, and to it Zelmane singing ; and, coming
to the little arbour whence proceeded this sorrowful music,
she found her love, and, sinking before her on the ground,
she cried, " O Zelmane, have pity on me." Zelmane ran to
her, marvelling what sudden sickness possessed her; and
Gynecia would fully have discovered her passion to her, and
her knowledge that she was no Amazon, but a man, when
they both heard footsteps, and presently saw old Basilius
approach, complaining of love very freshly, and thus singing :
" Let not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heavenly shape, in human soul contain'd :
Old wood inflam'd doth yield the bravest fire,
When younger doth in smoke his virtue spend.
" Ne let white hairs, which on my face do grow,,/ '
Seem to your eyes of a disgraceful hue ;
Since whiteness doth present the sweetest show,
Which makes all eyes do homage unto you."
Which being done, he looked very curiously upon himself,
sometimes fetching a little skip, as if he had said his strength
had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane having in this
time gotten some leisure to think for an answer, looking
upon Gynecia as if she thought she did her some wrong,
" Madam," said she, " I am not acquainted with those words
of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon,
neither are you a party with whom it is to be used ; if my
124 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
service may please you, employ it, so long as you do me
no wrong in misjudging of me." " Alas ! Zelmane," said
Gynecia, " I perceive you know full little how piercing the
eyes are of a true lover : there is no one beam of those
thoughts you have planted in me but is able to discern a
greater cloud than you do go in. Seek not to conceal your-
self further from me, nor force not the passion of love into
violent extremities."
Zelmane, now brought to an exigent, was speedily res-
cued therefrom by Basihus, who, perceiving both his wife
and his mistress together, despatched his wife to the lodge-
ward, and, falling down on his knees, proffered his love to
Zelmane, as to a lady who only had power to stir up more
flames in so aged a breast. " Worthy prince," said Zelmane,
taking him up from his knees, " both your manner and your
\ words are so strange to me that I know not how to answer you ;
1 disdain not to speak to you, mighty prince, but I disdain to
spVak of any matter which may bring my honour into ques-
tion\ And there, with a brave counterfeited scorn, she
deparo^^d from the king, and, thus being rid of this loving but
little-lowed company, she longed to meet with, and she sought,
her friends Dorus, that she might lay by the burden of sorrow,
and therefc-re went toward the other lodge, where, among
certain bev^ches, she found Dorus, apparelled in flannel, with
a goat's- skin cast upon him, and a garland of laurel mixed
with cy/press leaves on his head, waiting on his master Da-
metas, who at that time was teaching him how with his
sheephook to catch a wanton lamb, and how with the same
to cast a little clod at any one that strayed out of company.
And, while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas
holding his hands under his girdle behind him, nodding from
the waist upwards, and swearing he never knew man go
more awkwardly to work, and that they might talk of book-
ARCADIA.— Book II. 125
learning what they would, but, for his part, he never saw
more unfeaty [clumsy] fellows than great clerks were.
But Zelmane's coming saved Dorus from further chiding.
And so she, beginning to speak with him of the number of
his master's sheep, and which province of Arcadia bare the
finest wool, drew him on to follow her in such country
discourses, till, being out of Dametas' hearing, with such
vehemency of passion as though her heart would climb into
her mouth, to take her tongue's office, she declared unto him
upon what briers the roses of her affections grew ; how time
still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one hour of comfort
upon her, she remaining still in one plight of ill-fortune,
saving so much worse as continuance of evil doth in itself
increase evil.
And thus having poured into the friendly bosom of Dorus
her many chances and her ill-success, Zelmane prayed her
friend also to unburthen his griefs and to bestow upon her a
map of his httle world, that she might judge whether he had
been equally the spite and plaything of fortune. Thus
besought, Dorus entered to the description of his fortune: —
" After that by your means I was exalted to serve in yonder
blessed lodge, for a while I had in the furnace of my
agonies this refreshing, that, because of the service I had
done in kilHng of the bear, it pleased the princess — in whom,
indeed, stateliness shines through courtesy — to let fall some
gracious look upon me ; sometimes to see my exercises,
sometimes to hear my songs. For my part, my heart would
not suffer me to omit any occasion whereby I might make
the incomparable Pamela see how much extraordinary devo-
tion I bare to her service ; and withal strave to appear more
worthy in her sight ; that small desert, joined to so great
affection, might prevail something in the wisest lady. But
too well, alas ! I found that a shepherd's service was but
126 ARCADIA,— Book II,
^ / considered of as from a shepherd, and the acceptation limited
to no further proportion than of a good serv- ant. And when
my countenance had once given notice that there lay affec-
tion under it, I saw straight majesty, sitting in the throne of
beauty, draw forth such a sword of just disdain that I re-
mained as a man thunder-stricken, not daring — no, not able
to behold that power.
" Now to make my estate known seemed again impossible,
by reason of the suspiciousness of Dametas, Miso, and my
young mistress Mopsa ; for Dametas, according to the consti-
tution of a dull head, thinks no better way to show himself
wise than by suspecting everything in his way ; which sus-
picion Miso, for the hoggish shrewdness of her brain, and
Mopsa, for a very unlikely envy she hath stumbled upon
against the princess's unspeakable beauty, were very glad to
execute ; so that I, finding my service by this means lightly
regarded, my affection despised, and myself unknown, re-
mained no fuller of desire than void of counsel how to coine
to my desire. At last I lighted and resolved on this way,
which yet perchance you will think was a way rather to hide
it. I began to counterfeit the extremest love toward Mopsa
/ that might be ; and as for the love, so lively it was indeed
within me, although to another subject, that little I needed to
counterfeit any notable demonstrations of it ; and so making a
contrariety the place of my memory, in her foulness I beheld
Pamela's fairness, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on
Pamela ; as if I saw my sun shine in a puddled water. I
cried out of nothing but Mopsa ; to Mopsa my attendance
was directed ; to Mopsa the best fruits I could gather were
brought ; to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conveyed
my tongue, so that Mopsa was my saying, Mopsa was my
singing, Mopsa — that is only suitable in laying a foul com-
plexion upon a filthy favour, setting forth both in sluttishness
ARCADIA.— Book II. 127
— she was the load-star of my life, she the blessing of mine
eyes, she the overthrow of my desires and yet the recom-
pense of my overthrow, she the sweetness of my heart, even
sweetening the death which her sweetness drew upon me.
In sum, whatsoever I thought of Pamela that I said to Mopsa,
whereby, as I gat my master's good-will, who before spited
me, fearing lest I should win the princess's favour from him,
so did the same make the princess the better content to allow
me her presence ; whether indeed it were that a certain
spark of noble indignation did rise in her not to suffer such
a baggage to win away anything of hers, how meanly soever
she reputed of it, or rather, as I think, my words being so
passionate and shooting so quite contrary from the marks of
Mopsa's worthiness, she perceived well enough whither they
were directed, and therefore, being so masked, she was con-
tented, as a sport of wit, to attend them. Whereupon one day,
determining to find some means to tell, as of a third person,
the tale of mine own love and estate, finding Mopsa, like a
cuckoo by a nightingale, alone with Pamela, I came in unto
them, and with a face, I am sure, full of cloudy fancies,
took a harp and sung this song : —
" ' Since so mine eyes are subject to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed have my brain ;
Since so my heart is filled with that light,
That only light doth all my life maintain ;
" ' Since in sweet you all goods so richly reign,
That where you are no wished good can want ;
Since so your living image lives in me,
That in myself yourself true love doth plant ;
How can you him unworthy then decree
In whose chief part your worths implanted be ?'
" The song being ended, I let fall my harp from me, and,
casting mine eye sometime on Mopsa, I fixed my look upon
128 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
Pamela, ' O Mopsa, Mopsa,' said I, ' if my heart could be as
manifest to you as it is uncomfortable to me, I doubt not
the height of my thoughts should well countervail the low-
ness of my quality. But let not an excellent spirit do itself
such wrong as to think where it is placed, embraced, and
loved there can be any unworthiness, since the weakest mist
is not easilier driven away by the sun than that is chased
away with so high thoughts.'
" ' I will not deny,' answered the gracious Pamela, ' but that
the love you bear to Mopsa hath brought you to the con-
sideration of her virtues, and that consideration may have
made you the m.ore virtuous, and so the more worthy ; but
even that then, you must confess, you have received of her,
and so are rather gratefully to thank her than to press any
further till you bring something of your own whereby to claim
it. And truly, Dorus, I must, in Mopsa's behalf, say thus
much to you, that, if her beauties have so overtaken you, it
becomes a true lover to have your heart more set upon her
good than your own, and to bear a tenderer respect to her
honour than your satisfaction.' 'Now, by my hallidame,
madam,' said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheep's-
eyes upon me, ' you have even touched mine own mind to
the quick, forsooth.'
And this policy of mine meeting with good hap, I had
one day a chance, while railing at filthy fortune, to picture
my own misfortunes and the high estate of the princess,
while I had a shrewd care of the jealous Mopsa ; for, while
Pamela graciously hearkened, I told my tale in this sort: —
"In the country 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
whom bondage wholly possessed, but yet accounted a prince,
ARCADIA.— Book II. 129
and named Musidorus. O Musidorus ! Musidorus ! But to
what serve exclamations, where there are no ears to receive
the sound ? This Musidorus being yet in the tenderest age,
his worthy father paid to Nature, with a violent death, her
last duties, leaving his child to the faith of his friends and
the proof of time. Death gave him not such pangs as the
foresightful care he had of his silly successor ; and yet if in
his foresight he could have seen so much, happy was that
good prince in his timely departure, which barred him from
the knowledge of his son's miseries, which his knowledge
could neither have prevented nor relieved. The young
Musidorus, being thus, as for the first pledge of the des-
tinies' good-will, deprived of his principal stay, was yet for
some years after, as if the stars would breathe themselves for
a greater mischief, lulled up in as much good luck as the
heedful love of his doleful mother and the flourishing estate
of his country could breed unto him.
" But when the time now came that misery seemed to be
ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I think
there was a conspiracy in all heavenly and earthly things to
frame fit occasions to lead him unto it. His people, to whom
all foreign matters in foretime were odious, began to wish in
their beloved prince experience by travel ; his dear mother,
whose eyes were held open only with the joy of looking upon
him, did now dispense with the comfort of her widowed life,
desiring the same her subjects did, for the increase of her
son's worthiness.
" And hereto did Musidorus' own virtue — see how virtue
can be a minister to mischief — sufficiently provoke him ; for,
indeed, thus much must I say for him, although the likeness
of our mishaps makes me presume to pattern myself unto
him, that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which
no faint pleasure could withhold him. But the present occa-
K
I30 ARCADIA.— Book II.
sion which did knit all this together was his uncle the king
of Macedon, who having lately before gotten such victories
as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for
the prince his son, brought up together, to avoid the wars,
with Musidorus, and for Musidorus himself, that his joy
might be the more full, having such partakers of it. But,
alas ! to what a sea of miseries my plaintful tongue doth lead
me ? — And thus out of breath, rather with that I thought than
that I said, I stayed my speech, till Pamela showmg by
countenance that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it :
" These two young princes, to satisfy the king, took their
way by sea, towards Thrace, whither they would needs go
with a navy to succour him, he being at that time before
Byzantium with a mighty army besieging it, where at that
time his court was. But when the conspired heavens had
gotten this subject of their wrath upon so fit a place as the
sea was, they straight began to breathe out in boisterous winds
some part of their malice against him, so that with the loss
of all his navy, he only, with the prince his cousin, were cast
aland,* and far off. O cruel winds, in your unconsiderate
rages, why either began you this fury, or why did you not
end it in his end } But your cruelty was such as you would
spare his life for many deathful torments. To tell you what
pitiful mishaps fell to the young prince of Macedon his
cousin, I should too much fill your ears with strange horrors ;
neither will I stay upon those laboursome adventures, nor
loathsome misadventures, to which and through which his
fortune and courage conducted him. My speech hasteneth
itself to come to the full point of Musidorus' infortunes.
For, as we find the most pestilent diseases do gather into
• themselves all the infirmities with which the body before was
* ''Where, as ill-fortune would, the Dane, with fresh supplies,
Was lately come aland." — Drayton, " Polyolbion."
ARCADIA.— Book II. 131
annoyed, so did his last misery embrace in extremity of
itself all his former mischiefs. Arcadia, Arcadia was the ,
place prepared to be the stage of his endless overthrow ; '''
Arcadia was, alas ! — well might I say it is — the charmed /
circle where all his spirits for ever should be enchanted.
For here, and nowhere else, did his infected eyes make his
mind know what power heavenly l^auty had to throw it
down to heUish agonies. Here, herf'did he see the Arcadian
king's eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all
his hopes of joy, and joyful parts of his heart, that he left in
himself nothing but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of
sorrow. But, alas ! what can saying make them believe
whom seeing cannot persuade ? Those pains must be felt
before they can be understood ; no outward utterance can
command a conceit. Such was as then the state of the
king as it was no time by direct means to seek her. And
such was the state of his captived will as he could delay no
time of seeking her.
" In this entangled cause, he clothed himself in a shepherd's
weed, that, under the baseness of that form, he might at least
have free access to feed his eyes with that which should at
length eat up his heart. In which doing, thus much without
doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not always to ■ ^,
be rejected, since under that veil there may be hidden things 1
to be esteemed. And if he might, with taking on a shepherd's
look, cast up his eyes to the fairest princess nature in that time
created, the like, nay, the same, desire of mine need no more
to be disdained or held for disgraceful. But now, alas ! mine
eyes wax dim, my tongue begins to falter, and my heart to
want force to help either, with the feeling remembrance I
have in what heap of miseries the caitiff prince lay at this
time buried. Pardon, therefore, most excellent princess, if I
cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since, if I be under-
K 2
132 ARCADIA.— Book II.
stood, I have said enough for the defence of my baseness :
and for that which after might befall to that pattern of ill-
fortune, the matters are too monstrous for my capacity ; his
hateful destinies must best declare their own workmanship.
" Thus having delivered my tale in this perplexed manner,
to the end the princess might judge that he meant himself
who spake so feelingly, her answer was both strange and, in
some respect, comfortable. For — would you think it ? — she
hath heard heretofore of us both, by means of the valiant
Prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away, which
she, following mine own style, thus delicately brought forth :
' You have told,' said she, ' Dorus, a pretty tale ; but you are
much deceived in the latter end of it. For the Prince
Musidorus, with his cousin Pyrocles, did both perish upon
the coast of Laconia, as a noble gentleman, called Plangus,
who was well acquainted with the history, did assure my
father.' Oh, how that speech of hers did pour joys into my
heart ! Oh, blessed name, thought I, of mine, since thou
hast been in that tongue, and passed through those lips,
though I can never hope to approach them.
" 'As for Pyrocles,' said I, ' I will not deny it but that he is
perished ;' which I said, lest sooner suspicion might arise of
your being here than yourself would have it, and yet affirmed
no lie unto her, since I only said I would not deny it. ' But
for Musidorus,' said I, ' I perceive, indeed, you have either
heard or read the story of that unhappy prince ; for this was
the very objection which that peerless princess did make
unto him when he sought to appear such as he was before
her wisdom ; and thus as I have read it fair written in the
certainty of my knowledge, he might answer her that indeed
the ship wherein he came by a treason was perished, and
therefore that Plangus might easily be deceived ; but that
he himself was cast upon the coast of Laconia, where he was
ARCADIA,— Book II. 133
taken up by a couple of shepherds who lived in those
days famous ; for that, both loving one fair maid, they yet
remained constant friends, one of whose songs not long since
was sung before you by the shepherd Lamon, and brought by
them to a nobleman's house, near Mantinea, whose son had>
a little before his marriage, been taken prisoner, and, by the
help of this prince, Musidorus (though naming himself by
another name) was delivered.' Now these circumlocutions I
did use, because of the one side I knew the princess would
know well the parties I meant, and of the other, if I should
have named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon,
perhaps it would have rubbed some conjecture into the heavy
head of mistress Mopsa.
'"Therefore, most divine lady, Plangus might well err who
knew not of any's taking up. Lastly, for a certain demonstra-
tion, he presumed to show unto the princess a mark he had
on his face, ' as I might,' said I, ' show this of my neck to the
rare Mopsa ;' and, withal, showed my neck to them both,
where, as you know, there is a red spot bearing figure, as
they tell me, of a hon's paw ; 'that she may ascertain herself
that I am Menalcas' brother. And so did he, beseeching
her to send some one she might trust into Thessalia, secretly
to be advertised whether the age, the complexion, and parti-
cularly that notable sign did not fully agree with their Prince
Musidorus.' ' Do you not know further,' said she, with a
settled countenance, not accusing [betraying] any kind of
inward emotion, ' of that story ?' 'Alas, no,' said I, ' for even
here the historiographer stopped, saying. The rest belonged
to astrology.' And therewith, partly to bring Mopsa again
to the matter, lest she should too much take heed to our dis-
courses, but principally, if it were possible, to gather some
comfort out of her answers, I kneeled down to the princess
and humbly besought her to move Mopsa in my behalf, that
134 ARCADIA.— Book II.
she would unarm her noble heart of that steely resistance
against the sweet blows of Love ; that since all her parts
were decked with some particular ornament — her face with
beauty, her head with wisdom, her eyes with majesty, her
countenance with gracefulness, her lips with loveliness — that
she would make her heart the throne of pity, being the most
excellent raiment of the most excellent part.
" But Pamela, without any show of favour or disdain,
either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her
speech to Mopsa with such a voice and action as showed she
spake of a matter which did little concern her, so that I was
well-nigh driven to submit to the tyranny of despair."
But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas, who
came whistling, and counting upon his fingers how many
load of hay seventeen fat oxen eat up in a year, desired
Zelmane, from the king, that she would come into the lodge,
where they stayed for her. "Alas !" said Dorus, taking his
leave, " the sum is this, that you may well find you have
beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force
of a rebound may well make your sorrow stronger." But
Zelmane turning her speech to Dametas, " I shall grow,"
said she, " skilful in countr}' matters, if I have often con-
ference with your servant." " In sooth," answered Dametas,
with a graceless scorn, " the lad may prove well enough, if
he over-soon think not too well of himself, and will bear away
that he heareth of his elders." And therewith, as they walked
to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find she might have
spent her time better with him, he began with a wild method
to run over all the art of husbandry, especially employing his
tongue about well dunging of a field ; while poor Zelmane
yielded her ears to those tedious strokes, not warding them
so much as with any. one answer, till they came to Basilius
and Gynecia, who attended for her in a coach, to carry her
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 135
abroad to see some sports prepared for her. Basilius and
Gynecia, sitting in the one end, placed her at the other, with
her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moved in her mind
to have kissed their feet for the favour of so blessed a seat,
for the narrowness of the coach made them join, from the
foot to the shoulders, very close together ; the truer touch
whereof, though it were barred by their envious apparel, yet,
as a perfect magnet, though but in an ivory box, will through
the box send forth his embracing virtue to a beloved
needle, so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmane's
soul cleave unto her, both through the ivory case of her
body, and the apparel which did overcloud it.
The sports having been witnessed, the awkward Dametas,
who drove home half sleeping, half musing about the mending
of a wine-press, overturned the coach on the great stub of a
tree. Gynecia was only hurt,* having her shoulder put out of
joint, which, though it were well set by one of the falconers'
cunning, yet gave her much pain, and drave her to her bed.
Misdoubting that this might give occasion to Zelmane, whom
she misdoubted, therefore she called Philoclea to her, and,
though it were late in the night, commanded her in her ear
to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom
she would speak, and she to lie with her sister Pamela. The
meanwhile Gynecia kept Zelmane with her, because she
would be sure she should be out of the lodge before she
licensed [permitted] Zelmane. Philoclea, not skilled in any-
thing better than obedience, went quietly down, and the
moon, then full, not thinking scorn to be a torch-bearer to
such beauty, guided her steps. And, alas ! sweet Philoclea,"
how hath my pen till now forgot thy passions, since to thy
memory principally all this long matter is intended ; pardon
* That is, in modern construction, "only was hurt;" a little
further on we have " therefore she called" — w'^r^she therefore called.
136 ARCADIA.— Book II.
the slackness to come to those woes which, having caused in
others, thou didst feel in thyself.
The sweet-minded Philoclea was in their degree of well-
doing to whom the not knowing of evil serveth for a ground
of virtue, and hold their inward powers in better form with
an unspotted simplicity than many who rather cunningly
seek to know what goodness is than willingly take into them-
selves the following of it. But, as that sweet and simple
breath of heavenly goodness is the easier to be altered, be-
cause it hath not passed through the worldly wickedness, nor
feelingly found the evil that evil carries with it, so now the
lady Philoclea — whose eyes and senses had received nothing
^ but according as the natural course of each thing required,
whose tender youth had obediently lived under her parents'
behests, without framing out of her own will the forechoosing
of anything — when now she came to a point wherein her
judgment was to be practised, in knowing faultiness by his
first tokens, she was like a young fawn who, coming in the
wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or
no to be eschewed, whereof at this time she began to get a
costly experience; for after that Zelmane had awhile lived in
the lodge with her, and that her only being a noble stranger
had bred a kind of heedful attention, her coming to that
lonely place, where she had nobody but her parents, a willing-
ness of conversation, her wit and behaviour a liking and
silent admiration, at length the excellency of her natural
gifts, joined with the extreme shows she made of most devout
honouring Philoclea (carrying thus in one person the only
/ two bands of good-will, loveliness and lovingness), brought
forth in her heart a yielding to a most friendly affection,
which, when it had gotten to full possession of the keys of
her mind, that it would receive no message from her senses
without that affection were the interpreter, then straight
ARCADIA.— Book IT, 137
grew an exceeding delight still to be with her, with an unmea-
surable 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 chief cause of liking her
manners; so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for {
her demeanour, but the demeanour was prized because it I
was Zelmane's. Then followed that most natural effect of
conforming herself to that which she did like, and not only-
wishing to be herself such another in all things, but to ground
an imitation upon so much an esteemed authority. At last . 1
she fell in acquaintance with love's harbinger — wishing. First '"^
she would wish that they two might live all their lives
together, like two of Diana's nymphs; but that wish she
thought not sufficient, because she knew there would be more
nymphs besides them, who also would have their part in
Zelmane. Then would she wish that she were her sister, that
such a natural band might make her more special 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, grown bolder, she would wish either herself or Zel-
mane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage be-
tween them; but when that wish had once displayed his ensign
in her mind, then followed whole squadrons of longings
that so it might be, with a main battle of mislikings and re-
pinings against their creation, that so it was not. But as
some diseases when they are easy to be cured they are hard
to be known, but when they grow easy to be known they are
almost impossible to be cured, so the sweet Philoclea, while
she might prevent it she did not feel it, now she felt it when
it was past preventing, like a river, no rampiers [ramparts]
being built against it till already it have overflowed ; for
now, indeed, Love pulled off his mask and showed his face
unto her, and told her plainly that she was his prisoner.
138 ARCADIA.— Book IT,
But the principal cause that invited her remembrance was a
goodly white marble stone, that should seem had been dedi-
cated in ancient time to the silvan gods ; which she finding there
a few days before Zelmane's coming, had written these words
upon it, a testimony of her mind against the suspicion her
captivity made her think she lived in. The writing was this : —
" You living powers enclos'd in stately shrine
Of growing trees, you rural gods that wield
Your sceptres here, if to your ears divine
A voice may come, which troubled soul doth yield,
This vow receive, this vow, O gods, maintain :
]My virgin life no spotted thought shall stain.
" Thou purest stone, whose pureness doth present
My purest mind, whose temper hard doth show
My temper'd heart, by thee my promise sent
Unto myself let after- livers know,
No fancy mine, nor other's wrong suspect.
Make me, O virtuous shame, thy laws neglect.
" O Chastity, the chief of heavenly lights.
Which mak'st us most immortal shape to wear,
Hold thou my heart, establish thou my sprites ;
To only thee my constant course I bear.
Till spotless soul unto thy bosom fly :
Such life to lead, such death I vow to die."
"Alas, then, O love, why dost thou in thy beautiful sampler
set such a work for my desire to take out [copy] which is as
much impossible. And yet, alas, why do I thus condemn my
fortune before I hear what she can say for herself.-* What do
I, silly wench, know what love hath prepared for me ? Do I
not see my mother as well, at least as furiously, as myself love
'• Zelmane ; and should I be wiser than my mother ? Either
she sees a possibihty in that which I think impossible, or else
impossible loves need not mdsbecome me. And do I not see
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 139
Zelmane, who doth not think a thought which is not first
weighed by wisdom and virtue — doth not she vouchsafe to
love me with hke ardour ? I see it, her eyes depose it to be
true. What then ? and if she can love poor me, shall I think
scorn to love such a woman as Zelmane ? Away then, all vain
examinations of why and how. Thou lovest me, most ex-
cellent Zelmane, and I love thee ;" and with that, embracing the
ground whereon she lay, she said to herself (for even to herself
she was ashamed to speak it out in words), " O my Zelmane,
govern and direct me ; for I am wholly given over unto thee." '
And now Dametas and Miso, who were round about to seek
her, having found her, Miso swearing that, were it her
daughter Mopsa, she would give her a lesson for walking so
late, Philoclea went alone to her sister's — Pamela's — chamber,
where she found her sitting in a chair, lying backward with
her head almost over the back of it, and looking upon a wax-
candle which burnt before her ; in one hand holding a letter,
in the other her handkerchief, which had lately drunk up the
tears of her eyes, leaving instead of them crimson circles,
like red flakes in the element when the weather is hottest,
which Philoclea finding — for her eyes had learned to know the
badges of sorrow — she earnestly intreated to know the cause
thereof, that either she might comfort or accompany her
doleful humour. But Pamela, rather seeming sorry that she
had perceived so much than willing to open any further, " O
my Pamela," said Philoclea, " who are to me a sister in
nature, a mother in counsel, a princess by the law of our
country, and — which name, methinks, of all other is the
dearest — a friend by my choice and your favour, what means
this banishing me from your counsels ? Do you love your
sorrow so well as to grudge me part of it ? Or do you think
I shall not love a sad Pamela so well as a joyful ? Or be
my ears unworthy, or my tongue suspected? What is it,
f
140 ARCADIA.— Book II.
my sister, that you should conceal from your sister, yea, and
servant, Philoclea?"
These words wan no further of Pamela, but that telling her
they might talk better as they lay together, they impover-
ished their clothes to enrich their bed, which for that night
V might well scorn the shrine of Venus ; and there cherishing
one another with dear, though chaste embracements, with
sweet, though cold kisses, it might seem that love was come
to play him there without dart, or that, weary of his own
fires, he was there to refresh himself between their sweet
breathing lips. But Philoclea earnestly ■ again intreated
Pamela to open her grief, who at first dissembled, but at
lastadjured Philoclea to take warningby her example. "Alas, "
thought Philoclea to herself, " your shears come too late to
clip the bird's wings that already is flown away." But then
Pamela, being once set in the stream of her love, went away
amain, withal telling her how his noble qualities had drawn
her liking towards him, but yet ever weighing his meanness,
and so held continually in due limits ; till, seeking many
means to speak with her, and ever kept from^ it, as well be-
cause she shunned it, seeing and disdaining his mind, as
because of her jealous jailors, he had at length used the finest
policy that might be in counterfeiting love to Mopsa, and
saying to Mopsa whatever he would have her know ; and in
how passionate manner he had told his own tale in a third
person, making poor Mopsa beheve that it was a matter
fallen out many ages before. " And in the end, because you
shall know my tears come not neither of repentance nor
misery, who, think you, is my Dorus fallen out to be 1 Even
the Prince Musidorus, famous over all Asia for his heroical
enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the
stranger Plangus told my father ; he not being drowned, as
Plangus thought, though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished.
ARCADIA— Book II. 141
Ah, my sister, if you had heard his words, or seen his ges-
tures, when he made me know what and to whom his love
was, you would have matched in yourself those two rarely
matched together — pity and delight.
"A few days since he and Dametas had furnished them-
selves very richly to run Pt the ring before me. Oh, how
mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich tissue furred with
lambs'-skins ! But, oh, how well it did with Dorus — to see
with what a grace he presented himself before me on horse-
back, making majesty wait upon humbleness ; how, at the
first, standing still with his eyes bent upon me, as though his
motions were chained to my look, he so stayed till I caused
Mopsa bid him do something upon his horse, which no sooner
said but, with a kind rather of quick gesture than show of
violence, you might see him come towards me, beating the
ground in so due time as no dancer can observe better mea-
sure. If you remember the ship we saw once when the sea
went high upon the coast of Argos ; so went the beast. But
he, as if, centaur-like, he had been on piece [one] with the horse,
was no more moved than one with the going of his own legs,
and in effect so did he command him as his own limbs ; for
though he had both spurs and wand, they seemed rather
marks of sovereignty than instruments of punishment ; his
hand and leg, with most pleasing grace, commanding without
threatening, and rather remembering than chastising ; at
least, if sometimes he did, it was so stolen as neither our
eyes could discern it nor the horse with any change did com-
plain of it, he ever going so just with the horse, either forth-
right or turning, that it seemed, as he borrowed the horse's
body, so he lent the horse his mind. In the turning, one
might perceive the bridle-hand something gently stir ; but,
indeed, so gently as it did rather distil virtue than use
violence. Himself, which methinks is strange, showing at
142 ARCADIA.— Book II,
one instant both steadiness and nimbleness ; sometimes
making him turn close to the ground, hke a cat when scratch-
ingly she wheels about after a mouse ; sometimes with a little
more rising before ; now like a raven, leaping from ridge to
ridge, then, like one of Dametas' kids, bound over the
hillocks ; and all so done 3S neither the lusty kind showed
any roughness, nor the easier any idleness, but still like a
well-obeyed master, whose beck is enough for a discipline,
ever concluding each thing he did with his face to mewards,
as if thence came not only the beginning but ending of his
motions. The sport was to see Dametas — how he was tossed
from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the
ground, giving his gay apparel almost as foul an outside
as it had an inside. But, as before he had ever said he
wanted but horse and apparel to be as brave a courtier as the
best, so now, bruised with proof, he proclaimed it a folly for a
man of wisdom to put himself under the tuition of a beast;
so as Dorus was fain alone to take the ring ; wherein truly
at least my womanish eyes could not discern but that taking
his staff from his thigh, the descending it a little down,
the getting of it up into the rest, the letting of the point fall,
and taking the ring, was but all one motion ; at least, if they
were divers motions, they did so stealingly slip one into
another as the latter part was ever in hand before the eye
could discern the former was ended. Indeed, Dametas found
fault that he showed no more strength in shaking of his staff,
but to my conceit the fine cleanness of bearing it was exceed-
ing delightful.
" One time he danced the matachin dance* in armour —
oh, with what a graceful dexterity ! — I think to make me see
that he had been brought up in such exercises. Another
time he persuaded his master, to make my time seem shorter,
* Matachm dance — see note previously given, p. 88.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 143
in manner of a dialogue, to play Priamus, while he played
Paris. Tell me, sweet Philoclea, did you ever see such
a shepherd ? Tell me, did you ever hear of such a prince ?
And then tell me if a small or unworthy assault have con-
quered me. Truly, I would hate my life if I thought vanity
led me. See what a letter this is, which to-day he delivered
me, pretending before Mopsa that I should read it unto her,
to mollify, forsooth, her iron stomach;" with that she read the
letter, containing thus much : —
" ' Most blessed paper, which shalt kiss that hand whereto
all blessedness is in nature a servant, do not disdain to carry
with thee the woeful words of a miser [wretch] now despairing ;
neither be afraid to appear before her, bearing the base title
of the sender ; for no sooner shall that divine hand touch
thee but that thy baseness shall be turned to most high pre-
ferment. Therefore mourn boldly, my ink ; for while she
looks upon you your blackness will shine : cry out boldly,
my lamentation ; for while she reads you your cries will be
music. Say, then, O happy messenger of a most unhappy
message, that the too soon born and too late dying creature,
which dares not speak — no, not look — no, not scarcely think,
as from his miserable self, unto her heavenly highness, only
presumes to desire thee, in the times that her eyes and voice
do exalt thee, to say, and in this manner to say, not from
him — oh, no ! that were not fit — but of him, thus much
unto her sacred judgment : — O you, the only honour to
women, to men the only admiration ; you that, being armed
by love, defy him that armed you, in this high estate wherein
you have placed me, yet let me remember him to whom I am
bound for bringing me to your presence ; and let me re-
member him who, since he is yours, how mean soever he be,
it is reason you have an account of him. The wretch — yet
your wretch — though with languishing steps, runs fast to his
144 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
grave ; and will you suffer a temple — how poorly built
soever, but yet a temple of your deity — to be razed ? But
he dieth, it is most true, he dieth ; and he in whom you live,
to obey you, dieth. Whereof, though he plain, he doth not
complain ; for it is a harm, but no wrong, which he hath
received. He dies, because, in woeful language, all his senses
tell him that such is your pleasure ; for, since you will not
that he live, alas ! alas ! what followeth — what followeth of
the most ruined Dorus but his end ? End, then, evil-des-
tined Dorus, end ; and end, thou woeful letter, end ; for it
sufficeth her wisdom to know that her heavenly will shall be
accomplished.'
" O my Philoclea, is he a person to write these words ?
and are these words lightly to be regarded ? But if you had
seen, when, with trembling hand, he had delivered, how he
went away, as if he had been but the coffin that carried
himself to his sepulchre. Two times, I must confess, I was
about to take courtesy into mine eyes ; but both times the
former resolution stopped the entry of it, so that he departed
without obtaining any further kindness. But he was no
sooner out of the door but that I looked to the door kindly ;
and truly the fear of him ever since hath put me into such
perplexity as now you found me."
" Ah, my Pamela, leave sorrow. The river of your tears
will soon lose his fountain. It is in your hand as well to
stitch up his life again as it was before to rend it." And
so, though with self-grieved mind, she comforted her sister,
till sleep came to bathe himself in Pamela's fair weeping eyes.
Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, " O
me," said she, " indeed the only subject of the destinies' dis-
pleasure, whose greatest fortunateness is more unfortunate
than my sister's greatest unfortunateness. Alas ! she weeps
because she would be no sooner happy : I weep because I
ARCADIA.— Book II. 145
can never be happy ; her tears flow from pity, mine from being
too far lower than the reach of pity. Yet do I not envy thee,
dear Pamela, I do not envy thee ; only I could wish that, being
thy sister in nature, I were not so far off akin in fortune."
But the darkness of sorrow overshadowing her mind, as the
night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselves
under the wings of sleep till the next morning had almost lost
his name, when Miso came with a slavering good morrow, telling
them it was a shame to mar their conditions, and their com-
plexions too, with lying too long abed ; that, when she was of
their age, she would have made a handkerchief by that time
a day. The two sweet princesses, with a smiling silence, an-
swered her entertainment, and, obeying her direction, covered
their dainty beauties with the glad clothes. But, as soon as
Pamela was ready — and sooner she was than her sister — of
the agony of Dorus giving a fit to herself, which the words
of his letter, lively imprinted in her mind, still remembered
her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus
to speak with her ; because, she said, she would take further
judgment of him before she would move Dametas to grant
her in marriage unto him. Mopsa, as glad as of sweetmeat
to go of such an errand, quickly returned with Dorus to
Pamela, who intended both, by speaking with him, to give
some comfort to his passionate heart, and withal to hear
some part of his life past, which, although fame had already
delivered unto her, yet she desired in more particular cer-
tainties to have it from so beloved an historian. Yet the
sweetness of virtue's disposition, jealous even over itself,
suffered her not to enter abruptly into questions of Musidorus,
whom she was half ashamed she did love so well, and more
than half sorry she could love no better, but thought best
first to make her talk arise of Pyrocles and his virtuous
^
146 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
" Dorus," said she, "you told me the last day that Plangus
was deceived in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was
drowned ; but withal you confessed his cousin Pyrocles
perished, of whom certainly in that age there was a great
loss, since, as I have heard, he was a young prince of v.'hom
all men expected as much as man's power could bring forth ;
and yet virtue promised for him their expectation should not
be deceived."
"Most excellent lady," said Dorus, "no expectation in
others, nor hope in himself, could aspire to a higher mark
than to be thought worthy to be praised by your judgment,
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
and noble air to fly in as in your breath, so could not you,
leaving yourself aside, find in the world a fitter subject of
commendation ; as noble as a long succession of royal an-
cestors, famous, and famous for victories, could make him ;
of shape most lovely, and yet of mind more lovely ; valiant,
courteous, wise. What should I say more ? Sweet Pyrocles,
excellent Pyrocles ! what can my words but wrong thy per-
fections, which I would to God in some small measure thou
hadst bequeathed to him that ever must have thy virtues in
admiration, that masked, at least, in them I might have
found some more gracious acceptation ?" With that he im-
prisoned his look for a while upon Mopsa, who thereupon
fell into a very wide smiling.
" Truly," said Pamela, "Dorus, I like well your mind, that
can raise itself out of so base a fortune as yours is to think of
the imitating so excellent a prince as Pyrocles was. Who
shoots at the midday sun, though he be sure he shall never
hit the mark, yet as sure he is he shall shoot higher than
who aims but at a bush. But I pray you, Dorus," said she,
" tell me, since I perceive you are well acquainted with that
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 147
story, what prince was that Euarchus, father to Pyrocles, of
whom so much fame goes for his rightly royal virtues, or by
what ways 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 son of his, with the discourse of his life and
loss ; and therein you may, if you list, say something of that
same Musidorus his cousin, because, they going together,
the story of Pyrocles — which I only desire — may be the
better understood."
" Incomparable lady," said he, " your commandment doth
not only give me the will, but the power to obey you, such
influence hath your excellency. This king, left orphan both
of father and mother, whose father and grandfather likewise
had died young, he found his estate, when he came to the age
-which allowed his authority, so disjointed even in the noblest
and strongest hmbs of government, that the name of a king
was grown even odious to the people, his authority having
been abused by those great lords and little kings who, in those
between-times of reigning, by unjust favouring those that
were partially theirs, and oppressing them that would defend
their liberty against them, had brought in, by a more felt than
seen manner of proceeding, the worst kind of oligarchy ;
that is, when men are governed indeed by a few, and yet are
not taught to know what those few be to whom they should
obey. For they, having the power of kings, but not the nature
of kings, use the authority as men do their farms, of which they
see within a year they shall go out ; and so there were offices
sold, public defences neglected, and, in sum, wit abused,
rather to feign reason why it should be amiss, than how it
should be amended. In short, peerless princess, I might
easily set down the whole art of government, but must tell
you the history of King Euarchus. /
" He had only one sister, a lady — lest I should too easily fall
L 2
148 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
to partial praises of her — of whom it may be justly said, that
she was no unfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was
come. Her he had given in marriage to Dorilaus, prince of
Thessalia, not so much to make a friendship as to confirm
the friendship between their posterity, which between them,
by the likeness of virtue, had been long before made : for
certainly Dorilaus could need no amplifier's mouth for the
highest point of praise. Dorilaus, having married his sister,
had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folks wont to
say, how unhappy soever the children after grow) with a son,
whom they named Musidorus : of whom I must needs first
speak before I come to Pyrocles, because, as he was born first,
so upon his occasion grew — as I may say, accidentally — the
other's birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker
of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers
of soothsayers who affirmed strange and incredible things
should be performed by that child. Whether the heavens at
that time hsted to play with ignorant mankind, or that flattery
be so presumptuous as even at times to borrow the face of
divinity, but certainly, so did the boldness of their affirma-
tion accompany the greatness of what they did affirm — even
descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should over-
come — that the king of Phrygia, who over-superstitiously
thought himself touched in the matter, sought by force to
destroy the infant, to prevent his after-expectations ; because
a skilful man, having compared his nativity 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 v/ork of
the superior powers, the heavens at length are never children.
But so he did, and by the aid of the kings of Lydia and
Crete, joining together their armies, invaded Thessalia, and
brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune ; when his
faithful friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 149
succour that, with some interchanging changes of fortune,
they begat of a just war the best child — peace. In which
time Euarchus made a cross marriage also with Dorilaus his
sister, and shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles,
driven to return to the defence of his own country, which in
his absence, helped with some of the ill-contented nobility,
the mighty king of Thrace and his brother king of Pannonia
had invaded. The success of those wars was too notable to
be unknown to your ears, to which it seems all worthy fame
hath glory to come unto. But there was Dorilaus, valiantly
requiting his friend's help, in a great battle deprived of life,
his obsequies being no more solemnized by the tears of his
partakers* than the blood of his enemies ; with so piercing a
sorrow to the constant heart of Euarchus, that the news of
his son's birth could lighten his countenance with no show of
comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child
truth itself in him forthwith delivered. For what fortune only
soothsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see
prognosticated in Pyrocles, both heavens and earth giving
tokens of the coming forth of an heroical virtue. The senate-
house of the planetst was at no time so set for the decreeing
perfection in a man, as at that time all folks skilful therein
did acknowledge ; only love was threatened and promised to
him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and haven of
their best years. But, as death may have prevented Pyrocles^
so unworthiness must be the death of Musidorus.
" But the mother of Pyrocles, shortly after her childbirth^
dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of
his only son to his sister ; doing it the rather because the
war continued in cruel heat, betwixt him and those ill neigh -
"^ Partakers — Those who took part with him ; assistants, friends.
'j' " The senatc-Ii07ise of planets all did sit
To knit in her their best perfections." — Pericles, i. i.
I50 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
hours of his. In which mean time those young princes, the
only comforters of that virtuous widow, grew on so, that
Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceits ; Musi-
dorus, perchance because among his subjects, exceedingly
beloved; and, by the good order of Euarchus — well performed
by his sister — they were so brought up that all the sparks of
virtue which nature had kindled in them were so blown to
give forth their uttermost heat, that justly it may be affirmed
they inflamed the affections of all that knew them.
"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 than the likeness of all other virtues,
and made them more near one to the other than the nearness
of their blood could aspire unto, which I think grew the
faster, and the faster was tied between them, by reason that
Musidorus being elder by three or four years, it was neither
so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in
society, and yet by the difference there was taken away the
occasion of childish contentions, till they had both past over
the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare rever-
ence full of love to Musidorus, and Musidorus had a delight
full of love in Pyrocles. Musidorus what he had learned
either for body or mind would teach it to Pyrocles, and
Pyrocles was so glad to learn of none as of Musidorus ; till
Pyrocles being come to sixteen years of age, he seemed so
to overrun his age in growth, strength, and all things follow-
ing it, that not Musidorus, no, nor any man living, I think,
could perform any action, either on horse or foot, more
strongly, or deliver that strength more nimbly, or become the
delivery more gracefully, or employ all more virtuously,
which may well seem wonderful: but wonders are not wonders
in a wonderful subject.
" At which time, understanding that the king Euarchus,
ARCADIA,— Book IT. 151
after so many years' war, and the conquest of all Pannonia,
and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to
•-he siege of Byzantium, to the raising of which siege great
forces were made, they would needs fall to the practice of
those virtues which they before learned. And therefore the
mother of Musidorus, nobly yielding over her own affects to
her children's good (for a mother she was in effect to them
both), the rather that they might help her beloved brother,
they brake off all delays ; which Musidorus for his part
thought already had devoured too much of his good time,
but that he had once granted a boon, before he knew what it
was, to his dear friend Pyrocles, that he would never seek
the adventures of arms until he might go with him ; which
having fast bound his heart a true slave to faith, he had bid*
a tedious delay of following his own humour for his friend's
sake, till now, being both sent for by Euarchus, and finding
Pyrocles able every way to go through with that kind of life,
he was as desirous for his sake as for his own to enter into
it. So, therefore, preparing a navy, that they might go like
themselves, and not only bring the comfort of their presence,
but of their power to their dear parent Euarchus, they re-
commended themselves to the sea, leaving the shore of
Thessalia full of tears and vows, and were received thereon
with so smooth and smiling a face as if Neptune had as then
learned falsely to fawn on princes. The wind was like a
servant; waiting behind them so just that they might fill the
sails as they listed ; and the best sailers, showing themselves
less covetous of his liberaHty, so tempered it that they all
kept together like a beautiful flock, which so well could obey
their master's pipe ; without, sometimes, to delight the
prince's eyes, some two or three of them would strive who
* " He had bid a tedious delay." Here used as a past participle ;
i.e.. he had endured.
152 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
could, either by the cunning of well spending the wind's
breath, or by the advantageous building of their moving
houses, leave their fellows behind them in the honour oi
speed, while the two princes had leisure to see the practice
of that which before they had learned by books — to consider
the art of catching the wind prisoner to no other end but to
run away with it ; to see how beauty and use can so well
agree together that, of all the trinkets wherewith they are
attired, there is not one but serves to some necessary pur-
pose. And, O Lord, to see the admirable power and noble
effects of love, whereby the seeming insensible loadstone,
with a secret beauty holding the spirit of iron in it, can draw
that hardhearted thing unto it, and, like a virtuous mistress,
not only make it bow itself, but with it make it aspire to so high
a love as of the heavenly poles, and thereby to bring forth the
• oblest deeds that the children of the earth can boast of !
'' But by the next morning, even as the sun began to make
a gilded show of good meaning, there arose before his face a
dark veil of clouds, which blackened all the heavens, pre-
paring a mournful stage for a tragedy to be played on. The
traitorous sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted
navy, and such a storm played his direful part as sundered
all the vessels, driving the good ship of the two princes on a
rock, which, hidden with those outrageous waves, did, as it
were, closely dissemble his [its] cruel mind. The ship broke
herself in pieces and, as it were, tore out her own bowels to
feed the sea's greediness. The princes, alas ! were sundered
as the wreck, Musidorus driven out to sea on a piece of the
ship, while, contrariwise, Pyrocles was shortly brought out
of the sea's fury to the land's comfort.
" Being cast on land, much bruised and beaten both with
the sea's hard farewell and the shore's rude welcome, and even
almost deadly tired with the length of his uncomfortable
ARCADIA.— Book II. 153
labour, as he was walking up to discover somebody to whom
he might go for relief, there came straight running unto him
certain, who, as it was after known, by appointment watched,
with many others, in divers places along the coast, who laid
hands on him, and, without either questioning with him or
showing will to hear him, like men fearful to appear curious,
or, which was worse, having no regard to the hard plight he
was in, being so wet and weak, they carried him some miles
thence, to a house of a principal officer of that country ; who,
with no more civility, though with much more business, than
those under-fellows had showed, began, in captious manner,
to put interrogatories unto him. To which he, unused to
such entertainment, did shortly and plainly answer what he
was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner known,
with numbers of armed men to guard him — for mischief, not
from mischief — he was sent to the king's court, which, as
then, was not above a day's journey off, with letters from that
officer containing his own serviceable diligence in discovering
so great a personage, adding, withal, more than was true of
his conjectures, because he would endear his own service.
" This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to
the king thereof to whom he was sent, a prince of a melan-
choly constitution both of body and mind ; wickedly sad,
ever musing of horrible matters ; suspecting, or, rather,
condemning, all men of evil, because his mind had no eye to
espy goodness ; and, therefore, accusing sycophants, of all
men, did best sort to his nature. And this king, with a toad-
like retiredness of mind, had suffered, and well remembered
what he had suffered, from the war in Thessalia. But when
this bloody king knew what he was, and in what order he
and his cousin Musidorus, so much of him feared, were come
out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking, because ever thinking
the worst, that those forces were provided against him, glad
154 ARCADIA.— Book II.
of the perishing, as he thought, of Musidorus, determined in
pubhc sort to put Pyrocles to death ; for, having quite lost
the way of nobleness, he strave to climb to the height of
terribleness, and, thinking to make all men adread* to make
such one an enemy who would not spare nor fear to kill so
great a prince, and, lastly, having nothing in him why to
make him his friend, he thought he would take him away
from being his enemy. The day was appointed, and all
things prepared for that cruel blow, in so solemn an order as
if they would set forth tyranny in most gorgeous decking ;
the princely youth of invincible valour, yet so unjustly sub-
jected to such outrageous wrong, carrying himself in all his
demeanour so constantly, abiding extremity, that one might
see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world,
and destroying virtue in his sweetest growth.
" But so it fell out that his death was prevented by a rare
example of friendship in Musidorus, who, being almost
drowned, had been taken up by a fisherman belonging to the
kingdom of Bithynia ; and being there, and understanding
the full discourse (as fame was very prodigal of so notable
an accident) in what case Pyrocles was, learning, withal,
that his hatet was far more to him than to Pyrocles, he found
means to acquaint himself with a nobleman of that country,
to whom largely discovering what he was, he found him a
most fit instrument to effectuate his desire ; for this noble-
man had been one who in many wars, had served Euarchus,
and had been so mindstricken by the /bssutyof yii'tue in that
noble king that, though not born his subject, he ever pro-
fessed himself his servant. His desire, therefore, to him was
to keep Musidorus in a strong castle of his, and then to
* Adread — Afraid. — " I am adrad, by saynt Thomas."
—Chaucer, C. T. 1. 3425.
+ His Jiate — The king of Phrygia's.
ARCADIA.— Book 11. i55
make the king of Phrygia understand that, if he would
dehver Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put himself into
his hands, knowing well that how thirsty soever he was of
Pyrocles' blood, he would rather drink that of Musidorus,
" The nobleman was loth to preserve one by the loss of an-
other ; but time urging resolution, the importunity of Musi-
dorus, who showed a mind not to overHve Pyrocles, with the
affection he bare to Euarchus, so prevailed that he carried this
strange offer of Musidorus, which by the tyrant was greedily
accepted.
'{ " And so, upon security of both sides, they were inter-
changed. Where I may not omit the work of friendship in
Pyrocles, who, both in speech and countenance to Musidorus,
well showed that he thought himself injured, and not relieved
by him, asking him what he had ever seen in him why he
could not bear the extremities of mortal accidents as well as
any man ; and why he should envy him the glory of suffer-
ing death for his friend's cause, and, as it were, rob him of
his own possession. But in this notable contention, where
the conquest must be the conqueror's destruction, and safety
the punishment of the conquered, Musidorus prevailed,
because he was a more welcome prey to the unjust king ;
and as cheerfully going towards, as Pyrocles went frowardly
fromward his death, he was delivered to the king, who could
not be enough sure of him without he fed his own eyes upon
one whom he had began to fear as soon as the other began
to be. Yet, because he would in one act both make ostentation
of his own felicity, into whose hands his most feared enemy
was fallen, and withal cut off such hopes from his suspected
subjects, when they should know certainly he was dead, with
much more skilful cruelty and horrible solemnity he causeth
each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyranny. And
so, the day being come, he was led forth by many armed
y
156 ARCADIA.— Book II.
men, v/ho often had been the fortifiers of wickedness, to the
place of execution, where, coming with a mind comforted
in that he had done such service to Pyrocles, this strange
encounter he had.
" The excelhng Pyrocles was no sooner delivered by the
king's servants to a place of liberty than he bent his wit and
courage — and what would not they bring to pass? — how either
to deliver Musidorus or to perish with him. And, finding
he could get in that country no forces sufficient by force to
rescue him, to bring himself to die with him, httle hoping of
better event, he put himself in poor raiment, and, by the help
of some few crowns he took of that nobleman, who, full
of sorrow, though not knowing the secret of his intent, suf-
fered him to go in such order from him, he, even he, born
to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest blood that
Any prince might be, submitted himself to be servant to
the executioner that should put to death Musidorus ; a far
notabler proof of his friendship, considering the height of
his mind, than any death could be. That bad officer not
suspecting him, being arrayed fit for such an estate, and
having his beauty hidden by many foul spots he artificially
put upon his face, gave him leave not only to wear a sword
himself, but to bear his sword prepared for the justified
murder. And so Pyrocles taking his time when Musidorus
was upon the scaffold, separated somewhat from the rest, as
allowed to say something, he stept unto him, and, putting
the sword into his hand not bound, a point of civility the
ofificers used towards him, because they doubted no such
enterprise, 'Musidorus,' said he, 'die nobly.' In truth,
never man between joy before knowledge what to be glad of,
and fear after considering his case, had such a confusion of
thoughts as I had when I saw Pyrocles so near me." But
/ with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiling, Dorus the
ARCADIA.— Book II! 157
more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his
blushing, because he had, with the remembrance of that plight
he was in, forgotten, in speaking of himself, to use the third
person. But Musidorus turned her thoughts at this stay of
his story in rough sort, being with sword in hand, by laying
heartily about him ; and Pyrocles, the excellent Pyrocles did
such wonders as had made Musidorus full of courage had he
been born a coward.
" But as they were still fighting, with weak arms and strong
hearts, it happened that one of the soldiers, commanded to
go up after his fellows against the princes, having received
a light hurt, more wounded in his heart, went back with as
much dihgence as he came up with modesty, which another
of his fellows seeing, to pick a thank of the king, strake him
upon the face, reviling him, that so accompanied he would
run away from so few. But he, as many times it falls out,
only valiant when he was angry, in revenge thrust him through,
which with his death was straight revenged by a brother of - 'j
his, and that again requited by a fellow of the other's. There ^ ^
began to be a great tumult amongst the soldiers, which seen,
and not understood, by the people, used to fears, but not used '
to be bold in them, some began to cry treason; and that voice
straight multiplying itself, the king — O the cowardice of a
guilty conscience ! — before any man set upon him, fled away.V
Wherewith a bruit, either by art of some well-meaning men,
or by some chance, as such things often fall out by, ran from
one to the other, that the king was slain ; wherewith certain
young men of the bravest minds cried with a loud voice,
' Liberty !' and, encouraging the other citizens to follow them, */
set upon the guard and soldiers, as chief instruments of
tyranny ; and, quickly aided by the princes, they had left
none of them alive, nor any other in the city who they
thought had in any sort set his hand to the work of their
158 ARCADIA.— Book IL
servitude, and, God knows, by the blindness of rage, killing
many guiltless persons, either for affinity to the tyrant or
enmity to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser, seeing
that a popular license is indeed the many-headed tyranny,
/prevailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chief,
"^ 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 forthwith they lifted up ; Fortune, I think,
smiling at her work therein, that a scaffold of execution
should grow to a scaffold of coronation.
" But by-and-by came news that the tyrant was not dead,
but had fled to a strong place, and was gathering his forces
with all speed; but those collected were dispersed as soon, and
the king killed in the fight by the two princes. Thereon the
chief rule and kingship was offered to Musidorus ; but he,
thinking it a greater greatness to give a kingdom than to
get a kingdom, bestowed it on one who was left of the blood
royal, an aged gentleman of approved goodness. And soon
by this king and his people the kingdom next joining was
added to his, and the country well cleared of monsters and
cruel giants of hugeness and greatness, and therefore well
called giants, who did trouble it.
"It were the part of a very idle orator to set forth the
numbers of well-devised honours done unto them ; but, as
high honour is not only gotten and borne by pain and danger,
but must be nurst by the like, or else vanisheth as soon as it
appears to the world, so the natural hunger thereof, which
was in Pyrocles, suffered him not to account a resting seat of
that which either riseth or falleth, but still to make one occa-
sion beget another ; whereby his doings might send his praise
to others' mouths, to rebound again true contentment to his
spirit. And, therefore, having well estabhshed those king-
doms under good governors, and rid them by their valour of
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 159
such giants and monsters as before-time armies were not
able to subdue, they determined, in unknown order, to see
more of the world, and to employ those gifts esteemed rare
in them to the good of mankind ; and therefore would them-
selves, understanding that the king Euarchus was passed all
the cumber of his wars, go privately to seek exercises of their |
virtue, thinking it not so worthy to be brought to heroical;
effects by fortune or necessity, like Ulysses and ^neas, as by|
one's own choice and working. And so went they away from''
very unwilling people to leave them,* making time haste itself
to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witness
to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were
they out of the confines of Pontus but that, as they rid alone
armed — for alone they went, one serving the other — they met
an adventure, which, though not so notable for any great
effect they performed, yet worthy to be remembered, for the
unused examples therein, as well of true natural goodness as
of wretched ungratefulness.
" And now being in the country of Galatia, and in mid-
winter, the princes were condemned by the pride of the wind
which blew into their faces to some shrouding place, a hollow
rock ; and under that rude canopy they found an aged man,
* Leave them — /. e. , people very unwilling to let them go. Although
few dictionary-makers give the sense, it is evident that "leave" was
used as we now use "/f^"," and at a time when that meant "to hinder."
" Leave me do it," used by peasants and vulgar street boys, is old
English for asking permission. Here follow examples of the verb
and noun used in this sense : —
" This old Pandion, this king gan wepe
For tendernesse of herte, for to /eve
His doughter gon, and for to geve her leve.
Of all this world he loveth nothing so.
But at the last /eave hath she to go."
— Chaucer, "Legend of Philomene.'
" For to leve his doughter gon " means, in Latinised English, that
he should permit his daughter's departure.
i6o ARCADIA.— Book 11.
and a young scarcely come to the age of man, the old man
blind, the young man leading him, and their doleful speeches
were such as moved the princes to ask the younger who they
were. ' Sirs,' answered he with a good grace, ' your pre-
sence promiseth that cruelty shall not overrun hate ; and
if it did, in truth our state is sunk below the degree of fear.
This old man whom I lead was lately rightful prince of
this country of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungrateful-
ness of a son of his deprived not only of his kingdom,
whereof no foreign forces were ever able to spoil him, but of
his sight, the riches which nature grants to the poorest crea-
tures, whereby and by other his unnatural dealings, he hath
been driven to such grief as even now he would have had
me to have led him to the top of this rock,* thence to cast
himself headlong to death, and so would have made me, who
received my life of him, to be the worker of his destruction.
But, noble gentlemen,' said he, ' if either of you have a father,
and feel what dutiful affection is ingrafted in a son's heart,
let me intreat you to convey this afflicted prince to some
place of rest and security ; amongst your worthy acts it shall
be none of the least that a king of such might and fame, and
so unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.'
" But, before they could make him answer, his father began
to speak. ' Ah, my son,' said he, ' how evil an historian are
you, that leave out the chief knot of all the discourse — my
wickedness, my wickedness ! and if thou doest it to spare my
ears, the only sense now left me proper for knowledge, assure
* It is pretty generally agreed by commentators that Shakespeare,
who was evidently a reader of the Arcadia, and has indeed borrowed
(assuming "Pericles" to be his) one of his lines from it (see note,
p. 149), took the underplot of Gloster and his sons, or at least the
most striking incident of it, in his tragedy of "King Lear," from
this story of the king of Paphlagonia, If we read " top of this rock "
as relating to Dover, that chalky elevation has another link to bind
it to English literature.
ARCADIA.— Book 11. i6i
thyself thou doest mistake me ; and I take witness of that sun
which you see ' — with that he cast up his bhnd eyes, as if he
would hunt for light — ' and wish myself in worse case than I
do wish myself, which is as evil as may be, if I speak untruly,
that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts as the publishing
of my shame. Therefore, know you, gentlemen — to whom,
from my heart, I wish that it may not prove some ominous
foretoken of misfortune to have met with such a miser* as I
am — that whatsoever my son — O God, that truth binds me to
reproach him with the name of my son ! — hath said is true.
But, besides those truths, this also is true, that having had, in
lawful marriage, of a mother fit to bear royal children, this
son — such a one as partly you see, and better shall know by
my short declaration — and so enjoyed the expectations in the
world of him, till he was grown to justify their expectations,
so as I needed envy no father for the chief comfort of
mortality, to leave another oneself after me, I was carried by
a bastard son of mine— if at least I be bound to believe the
words of that base woman my concubine, his mother — first to
mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to do my best i<y
destroy, this son — I think you think — undeserving destruction.
What ways she used to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I
should tediously trouble you with as much poisonous hypo-
crisy, desperate fraud, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and
smiling envy, as in any living person could be harboured ;
but I list it not, no remembrance of naughtiness delights me
but mine own, and methinks th£ accusing his traps might
in some manner excuse my fault, which certainjy I loathe to
do. But the conclusion is, that I gave order to some ser-
vants of mine, whom I thought as apt for such charities as
* Miser — Used in its true sense — a poor wretch.
" He stayd his steed for humble misers sake."
— Spenser, Faerie Queene, II. i. 9.
/
J
162 ARCADIA.— Book II.
myself, to lead him out into a forest, and there to kill him.
But those thieves, better natured to my son than myself,
spared his life, letting him go to learn to live poorly ; which
he did, giving himself to be a private soldier in a country
hereby. But as he was ready to be greatly advanced for some
noble pieces of service which he did, he heard news of me,
who, drunk in my affection to that unlawful and unnatural
son of mine, suffered myself so to be governed by him that
all favours and punishments passed by him, all offices and
places of importance distributed to his favourites ; so that,
ere I was aware, I had left myself nothing but the name of a
king, which he shortly weary of too, with many indignities, if
anything may be called an indignity which was laid upon
me, threw me out of my see, and put out my eyes, and then,
proud in his tyranny, let me go, neither imprisoning nor
killing me, but rather delighting to make me feel misery,
— misery indeed, if ever there were any ; full of wretchedness,
fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltiness. And as he came
to the crown by so unjust means, as unjustly he kept it, by
force of stranger soldiers in citadels, the nests of tyranny
and murtherers of liberty ; disarming all his own countrymen,
that no man durst show himself a well-wilier of mine : to say
the truth, I think, few of them being so, considering my cruel
folly to my good son, and foolish kindness to my unkind
bastard. But if there were any who felt pity of so great a
fall, and had yet any sparks of unslain duty left in them
towards me, yet durst they not show it, scarcely with giving
me alms at their doors — which yet was the only sustenance
of my distressed life — nobody daring to show so much charity
as to lend me a hand to guide my dark steps. Till this son of
mine — God knows, worthy of a more virtuous and more fortu-
nate father — forgetting my abominable wrongs, not reckoning
danger, and neglecting the present good way he was
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 163
doing himself good, came hither to do this kind office you see
him perform towards me, to my unspeakable grief; not only
because his kindness is a glass even to my blind eyes of
my naughtiness, but that, above all griefs, it grieves me he
should desperately adventure the loss of his well-deserving
life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as
if he would carry mud in a chest of crystal ; for well I know,
he that now reigneth, how much soever, and with good
reason, he despiseth me, of all men despised, yet he will not
let slip any advantage to make away him whose just title,
ennobled by courage and goodness, may one day shake the
seat of a never-secure tyranny. And for this cause I craved
of him to lead me to the top of this rock ; indeed, I must /
confess, with meaning to free him from so serpentine a com-
panion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, only
therein since he was born showed himself disobedient unto
me. And now, gentlemen, you have the true story, which I
pray you publish to the world, that my mischievous proceed-
ings- may be the glory of his filial piety, the only reward now
left for so great a merit. And if it may be, let me obtain
that of you which my son denies me ; for never was there
more pity in saving any than in ending me, both because
therein my agony shall end, and so you shall preserve this
excellent young man, who else wilfully follows his own ruin.' ^
" The matter, in itself lamentable, lamentably expressed by
the old prince — which needed not to take to himself the
gestures of pity, since his face could not put off the marks
thereof^greatly moved the two princes to compassion, which
could not stay in such hearts as theirs without seeking
remedy. But by-and-by Plexirtus— so was the bastard called —
came thither with forty horse of purpose to murder his bro-
ther ; yet, notwithstanding help given to the usurper by Tydeus
and Telenor, two brothers of the noblest house of that
M 2
l64 ARCADIA.— Book II.
country, and forty or fifty of their suite, Pyrocles and Musi-
dorus, and the king of Pontus, who had come unlooked for
to their succour, so reduced the usurper that they left him
but that strong place wherein he was. In which season, too,
the bhnd king, his heart broken with affliction, having in the
chief city of his realm placed the crown upon his son Leonatus'
head, even in a moment, as it should seem, died. Plexirtus,
reduced by famine, came, cunningly dissembling, bare-footed,
and with a rope about his neck, to Leonatus, seeming to desire
nothing but death, as, ashamed to live, he begged the life in
refusing it. In the noble breast of Leonatus he begat not
only pity, but pardon, and the ministers of his cruelty being
punished, he was forgiven.
" In such sort the princes left these reconciled brothers,
V Plexirtus in all his behaviour carrying him in far lower degree
of service than the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would
suffer him, and taking likewise their leaves of their good friend
the king of Pontus, who returned to enjoy some benefit, both
of his wife and kingdom, they privately went thence, having
only with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs
accompany them through divers places, they four doing acts
more dangerous, though less famous, because they were but
private chivalries ; till, hearing of the fair and virtuous
Queen Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant king of
Armenia, they bent themselves to her succour, both because
the weaker — and weaker, as being a lady — and partly because
they heard the king of Armenia had in his company three
of the most famous men living, for matters of arms, that
were known to be in the world ; whereof one was the Prince
Plangus, whose name was sweetened by your breath, peer-
less lady, when the last day it pleased you to mention him
unto me ; the other two were two great princes — though
holding of him — Barzanes and Euardes, men of giantlike
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 165
both hugeness and force ; in which two especially the trust
the king had of victory was reposed. And of them those
brothers Tydeus and Telenor, sufficient judges in warlike
matters, spake so high commendations that the two princes
had even a youthful longing to have some trial of their
virtue. And, therefore, as soon as they were entered into
Lycia, they joined themselves with them that faithfully
served the poor queen, at that time besieged ; and ere long
animated in such sort their almost overthrown hearts, that
they went by force to relieve the town, though they were
deprived of a great part of their strength by the parting of
the two brothers, who were sent for in all haste to return
to their old friend and master Plexirtus, who, willingly hood-
winking themselves from seeing his faults, and binding them-
selves to believe what he said, often abused the virtue of
courage to defend his foul vice of injustice* But now they
were sent for to advance a conquest he was about, while
Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the delivery of the queen
Erona."
" I have heard," said Pamela, " that part of the story of
Plangus when he passed through this country, therefore you
may, if you list, pass over that war of Erona's quarrel, lest,
if you speak too much of war matters, you should wake
Mopsa, which might haply breed a great broil." He looked
and saw that Mopsa indeed sate swallowing of sleep with
open mouth, making such a noise withal as nobody could
lay the stealing of a nap to her charge. Whereupon, willing
to use that occasion, I* kneeled down, and, with humble-
heartedness and hearty earnestness printed m my graces,
"Alas !" said I, "divine lady, who have wrought such miracles
in me as to make a prince — none of the basest — to think
* There is here a confusion of persons, not uncommon with Sidney
and the older writers.
i66 ARCADIA.— Book IL.
all principalities base, in respect of the sheephook which
may hold him up in your sight, vouchsafe now, at last, to
hear in direct words my humble suit, while this dragon
sleeps that keeps the golden fruit. If in my desire I wish,
or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination feign to myself
anything which may be the least spot to that heavenly
virtue which shines in all your doings, I pray the eternal
powers that the words I speak may be deadly poisons while
they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires,
all my imaginations may only work their own confusion.
But if love, love of you, love of your virtues, seek only that
favour of you which becometh that gratefulness which can-
not misbecome your excellency, O do not " He would
have said further, but Pamela calling aloud " Mopsa !" she
suddenly start up, staggering, and rubbing her eyes, ran
first out of the door, and then back to them, before she knew
how she went out or why she came in again ; till at length,
being fully come to her little self, she asked Pamela why
she had called her. " For nothing," said Pamela, " but that
ye might hear some tales of your servant's telling ; and
therefore now,"' said she, " Dorus, go on." But asj[, who
found no so good sacrifice as obedience, was returning to
the story of myself, Philoclea came in, and by-and-by after
her, Miso : so as for that time they were fain to let Dorus
depart.
Pamela and Philoclea, their sober dinner being come and
gone, resolved to beg Zelmane's company and to go, while
the heat of the day lasted, to bathe themselves, as the Ar-
cadian nymphs often do, in the river Ladon, which of all the
rivers of Greece had the price for excellent pureness and
sweetness, insomuch as the very bathing in it was accounted
exceeding healthful. It ran upon so fine and delicate a ground
as one could not easily judge whether the river did more wash
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 167
the gravel, or the gravel did purify the river, the river not
running forth-right,* but almost continually winding,^as if the
lower streams would return to their spring, or that the river
had a delight to play with itself. The banks of either side
seeming arms ofjthe_laidng_earth that fain would embrace it,
and the rix^efXwanton nymph which still would slip from it,
either side of the bank being fringed with most beautiful
trees, which resisted the sun's darts from over-much piercing
the natural coldness of the river.
Zelmane, whose passion was so great that she was obliged \y
to lean against a tree, as the raiments of these damsels fell
off, to receive the kisses of the ground, retired ; while Philoclea,
who blushing, and withal smiling, making shamefastness
pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moved her feet,
unwonted to feel the naked ground, till the touch of the cold
water made a pretty kind of shrugging come over her body,
like the twinkling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But
the river itself gave way unto her, so that she was straight
breast high, which was the deepest that thereabout she
could be ; and when co ld La don had once fully embraced
them, himself was no more so cold to those ladies, but, as if |^
his cold complexion had been heated with love, so seemed ^
he to play about every part he could touch.
Zelmane, in retirement taking up a lute, with her panting
heart dancing to the music, gave utterance and invention
to a song in honour of her mistress, when, coming to the
latter end of it, she saw a water-spaniel come and fetch away
one of Philoclea's gloves, whose fine proportion showed well
what a dainty guest was wont there to be lodged. It was
a delight to Zelmane to see that the dog was therewith
^ Straightforward; sometimes used as a nomi.
" Here's a maze trod indeed
Through forth-rights and meanders." — Tempest iii. 3.
1 68 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
delighted, and so let him go a little way withal, who quickly
carried it out of sight among certain trees and bushes, which
were very close together. But by-and-by he came again,
and, amongst the raiment, the dog lighted upon a little book
of four or five leaves of paper, and was bearing that away
too. But when Zelmane, not knowing what importance it
might be of, ran after the dog, who going straight to those
bushes, she might see the dog deliver it to a gentleman who
secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the gentleman
rose up, and, with a courteous, though sad countenance, pre-
sented himself unto her. Zelmane's eyes straight willed her
mind to mark him, for she thought in herself she had never
seen a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong
making took not away delicacy, nor beauty fierceness ; being
indeed such a right man-like man as Nature, often erring,
yet shows she would fain make. But when she had a while,
not without admiration, viewed him, she desired him to de-
liver back the glove and paper, because they were the lady
Philoclea's, telling him withal that she would not willingly
let them know of his close lying in that prohibited place
while they were bathing of themselves, because she knew
they would be mortally oftended withal.
•" Fair lady," answered he, " the worst of the complaint is
already passed, since I feel of my fault in myself the punish-
ment. But for these things, I assure you, it was my dog's
wanton boldness, not my presumption." With that he gave
her back the paper. " But for the glove," said he, " since
it is my lady Philoclea's, give me leave to keep it, sith my
heart cannot persuade itself to part from it. And I pray you
tell the lady — lad y indeed of all my desires — that owes* it,
* Owes — "Owe" v., "own" adj. "To owe" is to have, to
possess. " Ought " the/, perfect.; "that man oiight 500 pence."
"Loke thu here nat there awaye bote yt be thyne cnae.^^
— Piers Ploughman, p. 122.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 169
that I will direct my life to honour this glove with serving
her."
" O villain !" cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an
unlooked-for rival, and that he would make her a messenger,
"despatch, and deliver it, or, by the life of her that owes it, I will
make thy soul, though too base a price, pay for it ;" and with that
drew out her sword, which, Amazon-like, she ever ware about
her. The gentleman retired himself into an open place from
among the bushes, and then drawing out his too, he offered
to deliver it unto her, saying withal, " God forbid I should
use my sword against you, sith, if I be not deceived, you
are the same famous Amazon that both defended my lady's
just title of beauty against the valiant Phalantus, and saved
her life in killing the lion ; therefore I am rather to kiss
your hands, with acknowledging myself bound to obey you."
But this courtesy was worse than a bastinado to Zelmane,
so that again, with rageful eyes, she bad him defend himself,
for no less than his life should answer it. " A hard case,"
said he, " to teach my sword that lesson, which hath ever used
to turn itself to a shield in a lady's presence." But Zelmane,
hearkening to no more words, began with such witty fury to
pursue him with blows and thrusts that nature and virtue
commanded the gentleman to look to his safety. Yet still
courtesy, that seemed incorporate in his heart, would not be
persuaded by danger to offer any offence, but only to stand
upon the best defensive guard he could ; sometimes going
back, being content, in that respect, to take on the figure of
cowardice, sometime with strong and well-met wards, some-
times cunning avoidings of his body, and sometimes feigning
some blows, which himself pulled 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
courtesy, that one that did nothing should be able to resist
/
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170 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
her, burned away with choler any motions which might grow
out of her own sweet disposition, determining to kill him if
he fought no better ; and so, redoubling her blows, drave the
stranger to no other shift than to ward and go back, at that
time seeming the image of innocency against violence. But
at length he found that, both in public and private respects,
who stands only upon defence stands upon no defence ; for
Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to
ward it, withal stepped back, as he was accustomed, she
stopped her blow in the air, and, suddenly turning the point,
ran full at his breast, so as he was driven with the pommel
of his sword, having no other weapon of defence, to beat it
down ; but the thrust was so strong that he could not so
wholly beat it away but that it met with his thigh, through
which it ran. But Zelmane retiring her sword, and seeing
his blood, victorious anger was conquered by the before-con-
quered pity, and heartily sorry, and even ashamed with her-
self, she was considering how little he had done who well,
she found, could have done more ; insomuch that she said,
" Truly I am sorry for your hurt ; but yourself gave the
cause, both in refusing to deliver the glove, and yet not
fighting as I know you could have done. But," said she,
" because I perceive you disdain to fight with a woman, it
may be, before a year come about, you shall meet with a
near kinsman of mine, Pyrocles, prince of Macedon ; and I
give you my word, he, for me, shall maintain this quarrel
against you." " I would," answered Amphialus, " I had
many more such hurts to meet and know that worthy prince,
whose virtue I love and admire, though my good destiny
hath not been to see his person."
But, as they were so speaking, the young ladies came, to
whom Mopsa, curious in anything but her own good be-
haviour, having followed and seen Zelmane fighting, had
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 171
cried what she had seen. But they, careful of Zehnane,
Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a loving,
made quick work to come to save her. But already they
found them in talk, and Zelmane careful of his wound ; and,
when they saw him, they knew it was their cousin-german,
the famous Amphialus, whom, yet with a sweet-graced bit- y
terness, they blameH for breaking their father's command-
ment, especially while themselves were in such sort retired.
But he craved pardon, protesting unto them that he had
only been to seek solitary places by an extreme melancholy
that had a good while possessed him, and guided to that
place by his spaniel, where, while the dog hunted in the
river, he had withdrawn himself to pacify with sleep his
over-watched eyes, till a dream waked him. But Philoclea,
that was even jealous of herself for Zelmane, would needs
have her glove, and not without so mighty a lower [frown] as
that face could yield. As for Zelmane, when she knew it
was Amphialus, " Lord Amphialus," said she, " I have long
desired to know you heretofore, I must confess, with more
good-will, but still with honouring your virtue, though I love
not your person ; and at this time, I pray you, let us take
care of your wound, upon condition you shall hereafter
promise that a more knightly combat shall be performed
between us." Amphialus answered in honourable sort, but
with such excusing himself that more and more accused his
love to Philoclea, and provoked more hate in Zelmane. But
Mopsa had already called certain shepherds, not far off, who
knew and well observed their limits, to come and help to
carry away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not with-
out danger to strain it ; and so he, leaving himself with
them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his heart than
at his wound.
He being gone, the ladies— with merry anger talking in
172 ARCADIA.— Book IL
what naked simplicity their cousin had seen them — returned
to the lodge-ward. Yet thinking it too early, as long as they
had any day, to break off so pleasing a company with going
to perform a cumbersome obedience, Zelmane invited them
to the little arbour, only reserved for her, which they willingly
did ; and there sitting, Pamela having a while made the lute
in his* language show how glad it was to be touched by her
fingers, Zelmane delivered up the paper which Amphialus
had at first yielded unto her ; and, seeing written upon the
back side of it the complaint of Plangus, remembering what
Dorus had told he^, and desiring to know how much Philo-
clea knew of her estate, she took occasion, in presenting of it,
to ask whether it were any secret or no.
" No, truly," answered Philoclea, " 'tis even an exercise of
my father's writing, a story of a gentleman whom he met as
he lay under a tree while his servants gat fresh post horses
for him. His pitiful motions, and even groans, moved my
father to talk to him, and he afterwards set down his story in
such a form as you see."
The quick eyes of Zelmane, leave being given them to over-
run the paper, perceived it to be a kind of tuneful dialogue
between a certain Plangus and Basilius, relating the love
torments of Plangus and a fair queen named Erona, in this
sad world,
" Where death is fear'd and life is held with pain,
Like playersf plac'd to fill a filthy stage;
Where change of thoughts one fool to other shows,
And all but jests save only sorrow's rage ;"
where the body is, indeed, but a shop of shame, a book
*' His — Here used for " its;" in the language of the lute.
f So Shakespeare —
" Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more." — Macbeth, act v. s. 5.
ARCADIA,— Book 11. 173
where blots be rife. Little else learned she from it, and,
therefore, thus she spake to Philoclea : " Most excellent lady !
one may be little wiser for this dialogue, since it neither sets
forth what Plangus, nor what Erona is ; wherefore I would
humbly crave to understand the particular discourse thereof."
" With my sister's leave and help," answered Philoclea, " I
will at once declare it. Of late there reigned a king in Lydia,
who had for the blessing of his marriage this only daughter
of his, Erona* ; a princess worthy, for her beauty, as much
praise as beauty may be praiseworthy. This princess Erona,
being nineteen years of age, seeing the country of Lydia so
much devoted to Cupid as that in every place his naked
pictures and images were superstitiously adored, either
moved thereunto by the esteeming that it could be no god-
head which could breed wickedness, or the shamefast con-
sideration of suchnakedness, procured so much of her father
as utterly to pull down and deface all those statues and
pictures.f Which how terribly he punished — for to that the
Lydians impute it — quickly after appeared.
"For she had not lived a year longer when she was
stricken with most obstinate love to a young man, but of
mean parentage, in her father's court, named Antiphilus ; so
* Erona — Whether by this name Sidney intends to lead the mind
towards Eros, the God of Love, in the Orphic hymns the son of
Kronos, is a question. Sometimes, as in Gynecia, there seems to
be a distinct suggestion of the nature of the bearer of the name, and
these characters were evidently drawn from life ; but, as Sidney never
finished this work, nor prepared it for publication, it is now impos-
sible to assign the real characters to the puppets in his fiction. The
better way to enjoy the romance is to read it for its intrinsic beauty
and the charm of its language, and to let the hidden allegory lie
forgotten and undisturbed.
t This profanation of Cupid's shrines, and the consequent events,
suggested to Beaumont and Fletcher the groundwork of the plot of
"Cupid's Revenge." — Works, ed. Dyce, vol. ii. 351.
174 ARCADIA.— Book II.
mean as that he was but the son of her nurse, and by that
means, without other desert, became known of her. Now so
evil could she conceal her fire, and so wilfully persevered
she in it, that her father offering her the marriage of the
great Tiridates, king of Armenia, who desired her more than
the joys of heaven, she, for Antiphilus' sake, refused it.
Many ways her father sought to withdraw her from it ;
sometimes by persuasions, sometimes by threatenings ; once
hiding Antiphilus, and giving her to understand that he was
fled the country ; lastly, making a solemn execution to be
done of another, under the name of Antiphilus, whom he
kept in prison. But neither she liked persuasions, nor feared
threatenings, nor changed for absence ; and when she thought
him dead, she sought all means, as well by poison as knife,
to send her soul at least to be married in the eternal Church
with him. This so brake the tender father's heart that,
leaving things as he found them, he shortly after died. Then
forthwith Erona, being seized* of the crown, and arming her
will with authority, sought to advance her affection to the
holy title of matrimony.
" But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she
was overtaken with a war the king Tiridates made upon her,
only for her person ; towards whom, for her ruin. Love had
kindled his cruel heart, indeed cruel and tyrannous ; for,
being far too strong in the field, he spared no man, woman,
nor child ; but, as though there could be found no foil to set
* Seized— Vosi&ss&d. of, used in the present law sense. In the
third book of the Arcadia there is a fine use of the word. " They
could scarcely understand his last words, for Death began to seize
himself of his heart. "
" Adam, Heaven's high behest no preface needs :
Sufficient that thy prayers are heard, and Death, —
Then due by sentence when thou didst transgress, —
Defeated of his seizure, many days
Given thee of grace." — Milton, P. L. b. xi. 251.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 175
forth the extremity of his love, but extremity of hatred, wrote,
as it were, the sonnets of his love in the blood, and tuned
them in the cries of her subjects ; although his fair sister
Artaxia, who would accompany him in the army, sought all
means to appease his fury ; till, lastly, he besieged Erona in
her best city, vowing to win her or lose his life. And now
had he brought her to the point either of a woeful consent,
or a ruinous denial, when there came thither, following the
course which Virtue and Fortune led them, two excellent
young princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one prince of
Macedon, the other of Thessalia ; two princes, as Plangus
said — and he witnessed his saying with sighs and tears — the
most accomplished both in body and mind that the sun ever
looked upon." While Philoclea spake those words, •' O sweet
words," thought Zelmane to herself, " which are not only a
praise to me, but a praise to praise itself, which out of that
mouth issueth."
" These two princes," said Philoclea, " as well to help the
weaker, especially being a lady, as to save a Greek people
from being ruined by such, whom we call and count bar-
barous, gathering together such of the honestest Lydians as
would venture their lives to succour their princess, giving
order by a secret message they sent into the city, that they
should issue with all force at an appointed time, they set
upon Tiridates' camp with so well-guided a fierceness, that
being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be overthrown ;
but that this Plangus, being general of Tiridates' horsemen,
especially aided by the two mighty men Euardes and Bar-
zanes, rescued the footmen, even almost defeated ; but yet
could not bar the princes, with their succours both of men
and victual, to enter the city.
" Which when Tiridates found would make the war long,
which length seemed to him worse than a languishing con-
176 ARCADIA.— Book IT,
sumption, he made a challenge of three princes in his retinue
against those two princes and Antiphilus ; and that thereupon
the quarrel should be decided, with compact that neither
side should help his fellow ; but of whose side the more
overcame, with him the victory should remain. Antiphilus,
though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of war than
venture him, yet could not for shame refuse the offer, espe-
cially since the two strangers that had no interest in it did
willingly accept it ; besides that, she saw it like enough that the
people, weary of the miseries of war, would rather give him
up if they saw him shrink than for his sake venture their
ruin, considering that the challengers were of far greater
worthiness than himself. So it was agreed upon, and against
Pyrocles was Euardes, king of Bithynia, Barzanes of Hircania
against Musidorus — two men that thought the world scarce
able to resist them — and against Antiphilus he placed this
same Plangus, being his own cousin-german, and son to the
king, of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slew
Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardes, which victory those princes
esteemed above all that ever they had ; but of the other side
Plangus took Antiphilus prisoner ; under which colour, as if
the matter had been equal, though, indeed, it was not, the
greater part being overcome of his side, Tiridates continued
his war, and to bring Erona to a compelled yielding, sent
her word that he would the third morrow after, before the
walls of the town, strike off Antiphilus' head, without his
suit in that space were granted, adding withal, because he
had heard of her desperate affection, that if in the meantime
she did herself any hurt, what tortures could be deyised
should be laid upon Antiphilus.
" Then lo* if Cupid be a god, or that [by] the tyranny of our
own thoughts seem as a god unto us ; but whatsoever it was,
* Lo — Used in the sense of see, behold.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 177
then it did set forth the miserableness of his effects, she being
drawn to two contraries by one cause ; for the love of him com-
manded her to yield to no other, the love of him commanded
her to preserve his life, which knot might well be cut, but
united [untied] it could not be. So that love in her passions,
like a right make-bate,* whispered to both sides arguments of
quarrel.
" At length, even the evening before the day appointed for
his death, the determination of yielding prevailed, especially
growing upon a message of Antiphilus, who, with all the con-
juringt terms he could devise, besought her to save his life
upon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her mes-
senger to Tiridates but her mind changed, and she went to
the two young princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, and, falling
down at their feet, desired them to try some way for her
deliverance, showing herself resolved not to overlive Anti-
philus, nor yield to Tiridates.
" They, that knew not what she had done in private, pre-
pared that night accordingly ; and, as sometimes it falls out
that what is inconstancy seems cunning, so did this change,
indeed, stand in as good stead as a witty dissimulation ; for
it made the king as reckless as them diligent ; so that, in the
dead time of the night, the princes issued out of the town,
with whom she would needs go, either to die herself or rescue
Antiphilus, having no armour or weapon but affection. And
I cannot tell you how, by what device (though Plangus at
large described it), the conclusion was, the wonderful valour
^Make-bate — "To bate" means "to quarrel;" hence "make-
bate," a maker of quarrels. In a similar way Shakespeare has
"make-peace:" "To be a make-peace shall become my age"
(Richard II. i. i).
+ Conjiirmg—'''^o conjure" is to call upon one with great earnest-
ness and entreaty. " And in the end he repeateth how he conjured
God in Horeb, and overcame Him with prayer." — Tyndal, Workes,
p. 22^
N
178 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
^ of the two princes so prevailed that Antiphilus was succoured
and the king slain. Plangus was then the chief man left in
the camp ; and therefore, seeing no other remedy, conveyed
in safety into her country Artaxia, now queen of Armenia,
who, being at home, proclaimed great rewards to any private
man, and herself in marriage 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 Greek princes,
being called away by another adventure, left them.
" But now, methinks, as I have 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 ears
from me, yet may I well desire a breathing time before I am
to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her
to great misery, and, withal, wish you all that from all man-
kind, indeed, you stop your ears. Oh, most happy were we if
we did set our loves one upon another ;" — and as she spake
that word her cheeks in red letters writ more than her tongue
did speak ; — " and, therefore, since I have named Plangus, I
pray you, sister," said she, " help me with the rest ; for I
have held the stage long enough ; and if it please you to
make his fortune known, as I have done Erona's, I will after
take heart again to go on with his [Antiphilus'] falsehood ;
and so, between us both, my lady Zelmane shall understand
both the cause and parties of this lamentation."
"Nay, beshrew me," said Miso, "I will have none of
that ; I will first have my tale ; you all and my daughter
Mopsa may draw cuts,* and the shortest cut speak first;
* Cuts — Lots; so Chaucer makes his pilgrims draw cuts who shall
tell the first tale.
" Now draweth cut, er that we forther twpme;
Which that hath the schortest schal bvgvnne."
—Cant. Tales, Prologue, 1. 838.
ARCADIA.— Book 11. ijc)
for I tell you— and this may be suffered — when you are
married, you will have first and last word of your husbands."
The ladies laughed to see with what an eager earnestness
she looked, having threatening, not only in her ferret eyes,
but, while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin,
and her shaking limbs one to threaten another. But there
was no remedy ; they must obey. And Miso, sitting on the
ground, with her knees up, and her hands upon her knees,
tuning her voice with many a quavering cough, thus dis-
coursed unto them : — "I tell you true," said she, "whatsoever
you think of me, you will one day be as I am ; and I, simple
though I sit here,* thought once my penny as good silver as
some of you do ; and, if my father had not played the hasty
fool — it is no lie I tell you — I might have had another-gainsf
husband than Dametas. But let that pass. God amend
him ! And yet I speak it not without good cause. You are
full in your tittle-tattlings of Cupid ; here is Cupid, and there
is Cupid. I will tell you now what a good old woman told
me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned
clerk told him, and gave it him in writing, and here I have
in my prayer-book." " I pray you," said Philoclea, " let us
see it, and read it." "No haste, but good," said Miso,
" you shall first know how I came by it. I was a young girl
of seven-and-twenty year old, and I could not go through
the street of our village but I might hear the young men
talk : ' Oh, the pretty Httle eyes of Miso !' ' Oh, the fine thin
lips of Miso !' ' Oh, the goodly fat hands of Miso !' besides
how well a certain wrying I had of my neck became me.
* A phrase common in Shakespeare's time. "He's a justice of
peace in his country, simple though I stand here." — Mer. Wives, i. I.
■\ Another-gains — This may be a misprint for "anothergates,"
another sort.
' ' When Hudibras about to enter
Upon an i^/^^r^a/^j- adventure. " — Hudibras, P. I. c. iii.
N 2
i8o ARCADIA.— Book II.
Then the one would wink with one eye, and the other cast
daisies at me. I must confess, seeing so many amorous, it
made me set up my peacock's tail with the highest. Which,
when this good old woman perceived — O the good wold*
woman ! well may the bones rest of the good wold woman ! —
she called me to her into her house. I remember full well, it
stood in the lane as you go to the barber's shop ; all the
town knew her ; there was a great loss of her. She called
me to her, and, taking first a sop of wine to comfort her
heart — it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia,
which we pay so dear for nowadays, and in that good world
was very good cheapf — she called me to her. 'Minion,' said
she — indeed, I was a pretty one in those days, though I say
it — ' I see a number of lads that love you. Well,' said she,
' I say no more. Do you know what Love is ?' With that
she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foul
fiend, I trow ; for he had a pair of horns like a bull, his feet
cloven, as many eyes upon his body as my gray mare hath
dapples, and for all the world so placed. This monster sate
like a hangman upon a pair of gallows. In his right hand
he was painted holding a crown of laurel ; in his left hand a
purse of money ; and out of his mouth hung a lacej of two
* Good wold wo/nan — An intentional and mocking alliteration.
+ Good cheap — "Chepe" is Saxon for "market ;" hence "good
cheap," good market. The French have an equivalent for this in
their expression boii inarche.
" Until thy death thou shalt not fully know
Whether thy purchase be good cheap or no ;
And at that day, believe it, 'twill appear,
If not extremely cheap, extremely dear."
— QUARLES, Div. Fancies, xcix.. On Buying a Bible.
X Lace — From A. S. Lcece-an, prehendere, to catch hold of, any-
thing which catches or holds.
"I know of love's peine.
As he that oft has been caught in his Azj."
—Chaucer, Knightes Tale, v. 1888.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. i8i
fiiir pictures of a man and a woman ; and such a countenance
he showed, as if he would persuade folks by those allurements
to come thither and be hanged. I, like a tender-hearted
wench, skriked out for fear of the devil. ' Well,' said she,
' this same is even Love ; 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, upon my charge,
never love none of them.' "
Then Miso, making a face to weep as if it were sorrow for
the remembrance of her youth, sent forth hei; tears Hke rain U\
falling on dirty furrows, while the ladies read from her book
a description of Cupid, which Zelmane took to be blasphemy
against that god, and humbly besought Pamela to go on
with the story. Pamela persisted to have Fortune their judge ;
and blind Fortune, that saw not the colour of them, gave
M opsa the pre-eminence. Wipi ng her mouth, for which there
was good cause, she thus tumbled into her matter :— " In time
past," said she, " there was a king, the mightiest man in all his
country, that had by his wife the fairest daughter that did
ever eat pap. Now this king did keep a great house, that
everybody might come and take their meat freely. So one
day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing upon
a harp, as sweet as any rose, and combing her head with a
comb all of precious stones, there came in a knight into the
court, upon a goodly horse, one hair of gold, and the other of
silver ; and so the knight, casting up his eyes to the window,
did fall into such love with her that he grew not worth the
bread he eat ; till many a sorry day going over his head,
with daily diligence and grisly* groans, he w an her affection,
* Grisly, from "greslich," is, says Mr. Morris, in his Specimens o^'
Early English, "horrid, horrible." We find it frequently in Chaucer.
" Her othes been so greet and so dampnable
That it is grisly for to hiere hem swere."
— Pardoneres Tale, v. lO,
i82 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
so that they agreed to run away together. And so in May,
when all true hearts rejoice, they stale out of the castle,
without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now, for-
sooth, as they went together, often all to-kissing* one another,
the knight told her he was brought up among the water-
nymphs, who had so bewitched him that, if he were ever
asked his name, he must presently vanish away, and there-
fore charged her upon his blessing never to ask him what he
was, nor whither he would. And so a great while she kept
his commandment ; till once, passing through a cruel wilder-
ness as dark as pitch, her mouth so watered that she could
not choose but ask him the question. And then he, making
the grievousest complaints that would have melted a tree to
have heard them, vanished quite away ; and she lay down
casting forth such pitiful cries as any shrich-owl. But
having lain so, wet by the rain, and burnt by the sun, five
days and five nights, she gat up, and went over many a high
hill, and many a deep river, till she came to an aunt's house
of hers, and came and cried to her for help, and she for pity
gave her a nut, and bade her never open her nut till she was
come to the extremest misery that ever tongue could speak
of. And sa^ she went, and she went, and never rested the
evening where she went in the morning, till she came to a
second aunt, and she gave her another nut."
" Keep this tale till my marriage day, good Mopsa," said the
sweet Philoclea, " and I will give thee the best gown that I
wear that day." Mopsa was glad of the bargain, and Pamela
related at some length the misfortunes of Prince Plangus ;
the base intrigues of his step-mother, the second wife of his
* AH to-kissing — The prefix ail to before a verb is frequently to be
met with in our old writers used as an augmentative. It also occurs
in the authorized version of the Bible (Judges ix. 53).
t A?td so—1 have preserved these italics, which indicate and
satirize Mopsa's method of narration.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 183
father, the king of Iberia, who loved, and in a guilty way, the
prince himself ; and forced by this love, and the plots by which
the queen sought to entrap him, and render him guilty in his
father's eyes, who, urged by his wife, attended but some fit
occasion to lay hands on his son, he — Plangus — chose a volun-
tary exile, and went to Tiridates, living in his court eleven or
twelve years, at the end of which time the war of Erona
happened. His father had suspicion so deeply engraved on
his heart, that he caused the son of the second wife, called
Palladius, to be proclaimed successor, and Plangus quite
excluded, so that Plangus was driven to continue serving
Tiridates, when Erona, by the treason of Antiphilus
But at that word she stopped. For Basilius, not able
longer to abide their absence, came suddenly among them,
and, with smiling countenance, telling Zelmane he was afraid
she had stolen away his daughters, invited them to follow the
sun's counsel in going then to their lodging, for indeed the
sun was ready to set. They yielded, Zelmane meaning some
other time to understand the story of Antiphilus' treason,
and Erona's danger, whose cause she greatly tendered.* Now
Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but, as spitefully as her
rough voice could utter it, she set forth the sauciness of
Amphialus. But Basilius only attended what Zelmane's
opinion was, who, though she hated Amphialus, yet the
nobility of her courage prevailed over it, and she desired he
might be pardoned that youthful error, considering the repu-
tation he had to be one of the best knights in the world, so as
hereafter he governed himself as one remembering his fault.
Basilius, giving the infinite terms of praises to Zelmane's
both valour in conquering and pitifulness in pardoning,
* Tendered — French, tendre, to heed or care for, " Here was a
sore ponnyshemete for so horryble a myschefe, but that they sum-
what tcdered them selues in the same, as ocupyers in one arte."—
Bale, English Votaries, pt. ii.
i84 ARCADIA.— Book II.
commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he
thought was her pleasure.
So brought he them up to visit his wife, where, between
her and him, the poor Zelmane received a tedious entertain-
ment, oppressed with being loved almost as much as with
loving. But the night coming on with her silent steps upon
them, they parted each from other — if at least they could be
parted, of whom every one did. live in another — and went
about to flatter sleep in their beds, that disdained to bestow
itself liberally upon such eyes, which by their will would ever
be looking.
On the next morn, Basilius having combed and tricked
himself more curiously than at any time forty winters before,
coming where Zelmane was, and loth to lose the precious
fruit of time, he presented himself unto her, falling down upon
both his knees, and holding up his hands, as the old gover-
ness of Uanae is painted, when she suddenly saw the golden
shower. " O heavenly woman, or earthly goddess," said he,
"let not my presence be odious unto you, nor my humble
suit seem of small weight in your ears. Vouchsafe your eyes
to descend upon this miserable old man, whose life hath
hitherto been maintained but to serve as an increase of your
beautiful triumphs. You only have overthrown me, and in
my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your own work to
be despised of you, but look upon him with pity, whose life
serves for your praise." Zelmane, keeping her countenance
ascanses* she understood him not, told him it became her
* Ascanses — This is manifestly a printer's error. The passage
means Zelmane kept her countenance askance, as [though] she
understood him not. Askance — Dutch, schiiins, to cut sloping.
" For as she lookte a skance.
Under a stole she spied two steming eyes."
— Wyatt, The Meane Estate.
I can find no instance of askanses used as it is in the text above.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 185
evil to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it
worse became her to correct him, to whom she owed duty ;
that the opinion she had of his wisdom was such as made
her esteem greatly of his words, but that the words themselves
sounded so as she could not imagine what they might in-
tend. " Intend !" said Basilius, proud that that was brought
in question ; " what may they intend but a refreshing of my
soul, and a suaging of my heat, and enjoying those your
excellencies, wherein my hfe is upheld, and my death threat-
ened ?" Zelmane, lifting up her face as if she had received a
mortal injury of him, "And is this the devotion your ceremonies
have been bent to ?" said she ; " is it the disdain of my estate,
or the opinion of my lightness, that have emboldened such base
fancies towards me ? Enjoying, quoth you ? now little joy come
to them that yield to such enjoying !" Poor Basilius was so
appalled that his legs bowed under him ; his eyes looked as
though he would gladly hide himself ; and his old blood going
to his heart,* a general shaking all over his body possessed
him. At length, with a wan mouth, he was about to give a
stammering answer, when it came into Zelmane's head by this
device to make her profit of his folly ; and, therefore, with a
relented countenance, thus said unto him : "Your words,
mighty prince, were unfit either for me to hear, or you to
speak ; but yet, the large testimony I see of your affection
makes me willing to suppress a great number of errors. Only
thus much I think good to say, that the same words in my
lady Philoclea's mouth, as from one woman to anocher, so
as there were no other body by, might have had a better
grace ; and perchance have found a gentler receipt."
* Going to his heart — This and many other passages in the Eliza-
bethan writers might be cited to prove that, long before Harvey
demonstrated the circulation of the blood to King Charles I., a
partial behef in the fact was general with educated people.
i86 ARCADIA.— Book II.
Basilius, whose senses by desire were held open, scarce heard
her answer out ; but, running to Philoclea, conjured her by
the love she held to her father, with all the words desire could
indite, and authority utter, not to disdain any service to Zel-
mane. Philoclea, glad to enjoy the private conference of
Zelmane, said she would in all virtuous sort lay his case
before her, and, going forth, after some time found Zelmane
on a river's bank, who, after a pause, brought forth in this
manner : —
'' Most beloved lady, the incomparable excellencies of your-
self, waited on by the greatness of your estate, and the import-
ance of the thing, whereon my life consisteth, doth require
both many ceremonies before the beginning and many cir-
cumstances in the uttering my speech, both bold and fearful.
But the small opportunity of envious occasion, by the mali-
cious eye hateful love doth cast upon me, and the extreme
bent of my affection, which will either break out in words, or
break my heart, compel me not only to embrace the smallest
time, but to pass by the respect due unto you, in respect of
your poor caitiff's life, who is now or never to be preserved. I
do therefore vow unto you hereafter never more to omit all
dutiful form ; do you only now vouchsafe to hear the matter
of a mind most perplexed. If ever the sound of love hath come
to your ears, or if ever you have understood what force it
hath had to conquer the strongest hearts, and change the
most settled estates, receive here an example of those strange
tragedies ; one that in himself containeth the particularities
of all those misfortunes ; and from henceforth believe that
such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see,
I say, a living image, and a present story of what love can
do when he is bent to ruin.
" But, alas ! whither goest thou, my tongue ? or how doth my
heart consent to adventure the revealing his nearest-touching
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 187
secret ? But peace, Fear, thou comest too late, when already
the harm is taken. Therefore, I say again, O only princess,
attend here a miserable miracle of affection ; behold here
before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whom you only
have brought to this game of fortune, and unused rnetamor-
phosis, whom you only have made neglect his country, 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 traitors, my eyes, putting me into a ship of desire
which daily burneth — those eyes, I say, which betrayed me,
will never leave till they have drowned me. But be not, be
not, most excellent lady, you that nature hath made to be the
load-star of comfort, be not the rock of shipwreck : you whom
virtue hath made the princess of fehcity, be not the minister
of ruin : you whom my choice hath made the goddess of my
safety, O let not, let not from 'you be poured upon me de-
struction ; your fair face hath many tokens in it of amaze-
ment at my words. Think, 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
weighed in the balances of honour, and let Virtue hold them ;
for if the highest love in no base person may aspire to grace,
then may I hope your beauty will not be without pity. If
otherwise you be — alas ! but let it not be so ! — resolved, yet
shall not my death be comfortless, receiving it by your sen-
tence."
The joy which wrought into Pygmalion's mind while he
found his beloved image was softer and warmer in his folded
arms, till at length it accomplished his gladness with a per-
fect woman's shape, still beautified with the former perfec-
tions, was even such as by each degree of Zelmane's words
creepingly entered into Philoclea, till her pleasure was fully
i88 ARCADIA.— Book II,
made up with the manifesting of his being, which was such
as in hope did overcome hope. Yet doubt would fain have
played his part in her mind, and called in question how she
should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles ; but Love
straight stood up and deposed that a lie could not come
from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain spark of
honour, which rose in her well-disposed mind, made her
fear to be alone with him, with whom alone she desired
to be (with all the other contradictions growing in those
minds which neither absolutely climb the rock of virtue nor
freely sink into the sea of vanity) ; but that spark soon gave
place, or at least gave no more light in her mind than a candle
doth in the sun's presence. ' But, even sick with a surfeit of
joy,^and fearful of she knew not what, as he that newly finds
huge treasures doubts whether he sleep or no, or like a
fearful deer, which then looks most about when he comes to
the best feed, with a shrugging* kind of tremor through all
her principal parts, she gave these affectionate words for
answer —
" Alas ! how painful a thing it is to a divided mind to make
a well-joined answer ; how hard it is to bring inward shame
to outward confession ; and what handsomeness, trow you,
can be observed in that speech which is made one knows
not to whom ? Shall I say O Zelmane ? Alas ! your words
be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles ? Wretch that I
am, your show is manifest against it. But this, this I may
well say : If I had continued as I ought, Philoclea, you had
either never been, or ever been Zelmane ; you had either
never attempted this change, set on with hope, or never
* Shrugging — Written by Holland j-//;-/^^/;/^; "forth he shrigged'
(constricta;). " Shrug" is a motion or action of the shoulders.
" His shoulders witnessing by many a shrug
How much his feelings suffered, sat Sir Snug."
— CowPKR, Hope.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 189
discovered it, stopped with despair. But, I fear me, my
behaviour, ill governed, gave you the first comfort ; I fear me,
my affection, ill hid, hath given you this last assurance ; I fear,
indeed, the weakness of my government before made you
think such a mask would be grateful unto me ; and my weaker
government since makes you to pull off the visor. What
should I do then ? Shall I seek far-fetched inventions .? shall
I labour to lay marble colours over my ruinous thoughts ? or
rather, though the pureness of my virgin mind be stained, let
me keep the true simplicity of my word. True it is, alas !
too true it is, Zelmane — for so I love to call thee, since in that
name my love first began, and in the shade of that name my/
love shall best he hidden — that, even while so thou wert (what
eye bewitched me I know not), my passions were fitter to
desire than to be desired. Shall I say, then, I am sorry, or
that my love must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to'
Pyrocles .^ How may that well be, since, when thou wert Zel-
mane, the despair thou mightest not be thus did most torment
me. Thou hast, then, the victory : use it with virtue. Thy
virtue wan me ; with virtue preserve me. Dost thou love
me ? keep me, then, still worthy to be loved."
Then held she her tongue, and cast down a self-accusing
look, finding that in herself she had, as it were, shot out of
the bow of her affection a more quick opening of her mind
than she minded to have done. But Pyrocles, so carried up
with joy that he did not envy the Gods' felicity, presented her
with some jewels of right princely value, as some little tokens of
his love and quality ; and withal showed her letters from his
father. King Euarchus, unto him, which, even in the sea, had
amongst his jewels been preserved. But httle needed those
proofs to one who would have fallen out with herself rather
than make any contrary conjectures to Zelmane's speeches ;
so that, with such embracements as it seemed their souls
190 ARCADIA.— Book II.
desired to meet, and their hearts to kiss, as their mouths did,
they passed the promise of marriage, which fain Pyrocles
J^ would have sealed with the chief arms of her desire ; but
Philoclea commanded the contrary.
Then did Pyrocles, without disguise and at Philoclea's
intreaty, tell the story of her life* from the time of his depart-
ing from \Erona ; and, though he knew that this discourse
was but to entertain him from a more straight parley, yet he
durst not but kiss his rod and gladly make much of his
entertainment.
" Sweet princess of my life," said he, " what trophies, what
triumphs, what monuments, what histories might ever make
my fame yield so sweet a music to my ears as that it pleaseth
you to lend your mihd to the knowledge of anything touching
Pyrocles, only, therefore, of value because he is your Pyrocles?
and, therefore, grow I now so proud as to think it worth the
hearing, since you vouchsafe to give it the hearing. There-
fore, only height of my hope, vouchsafe to know that, after
the death of Tiridates, and settling Erona in her government
— for settled we left her — howsoever since, as I perceived by
your speech the last day, ungrateful treason of her ill-chosen
/ husband overthrew her — a thing, in truth, never till this time
by me either heard or suspected ; for who could think, with-
out having such a mind as Antiphilus, that so great a beauty
as Erona's (indeed excellent) could not have held his affec-
tion ? so great goodness could not have bound gratefulness }
and high advancement could not have satisfied his ambition ?
But, therefore, true it is that wickedness may well be com-
pared to a bottomless pit, into which it is far easier to keep
one's self from falling, than, being fallen, to give one's self any
* He7' life— A confusion of the sexes, consequent upon Pyrocles
being still disguised as the Amazon Zelmane.
ARCADIA.— Book IL 191
stay from falling infinitely ; but, for my cousin and me, upon
this cause we parted from Erona.
" Euardes, the brave and mighty prince whom it was my
fortune to kill in the combat for Erona, had three nephews,
sons to a sister of his ; all three set among the foremost
ranks of fame for great minds to attempt, and great force to
perform what they did attempt, especially the eldest, by name
Anaxius, to whom all men would willingly have yielded the
height of praise, but that his nature was such as to bestow it
upon himself before any could give it ; for of so unsupport-
able a pride he was, that where his deeds might well stir
envy, his demeanour did rather breed disdain. And if it be
true that the giants ever made war against heaven, he had
been a fit ensign-bearer for that company ; for nothing
seemed hard to him, though impossible, and nothing unjust,
while his liking was his justice. Now he in these wars had
flatly refused his aid, because he could not brook that the^
worthy Prince Plangus was by his cousin Tiridates preferred
before him. For, allowing no other weights but the sword
and spear in judging of desert, how much he esteemed him-
self before Plangus in that, so much would he have had his
allowance in his service.
" But, now that he understood that his uncle was slain by
me, I think rather scorn that any should kill his uncle than
any kindness, an unused guest to an arrogant soul, made him
seek his revenge, I must confess in manner gallant enough;
for he sent a challenge unto me to meet him at a place ap-
pointed in the confines of the kingdom of Lydia, where he
would prove upon me that I had by some treachery overcome
his uncle, whom else many hundreds such as I could not have
withstood. Youth and success made me willing enough to
accept any such bargain, especially because I heard that
your cousin Amphialus, who for some years hath borne
192 ARCADIA.— Book II,
universally the name of the best knight in the world, had divers
times fought with him, and never been able to master him,
but so had left him, that every man thought Anaxius, in that
one virtue of courtesy far short of him, in all other his match,
Anaxius still deeming himself for his superior. Therefore to
him I would go, and I would needs go alone, because so I
i understood for certain he was, and, I must confess, desirous
ll to do something without the company of the incomparable
■^ Prince Musidorus, because in my heart I acknowledge that I
owed more to his presence than to anything in myself what-
ever before I had done ; for of him, indeed, as of any worldly
cause, I must grant, as received, whatever there is or may be
good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example,
giving me in him so lively an image of virtue as ignorance
could not cast such a mist over mine eyes as not to see and
to love it, and all with such dear friendship and care as, O
heaven ! how can my life ever requite to him ; which made me
indeed find in myself such a kind of depending upon him as
without him I found a weakness and a mistrustfulness of
myself, as one stayed from his best strength, when at any
time I missed him; which humour perceiving to overrule me,
I strave against it, not that I was unwilling to depend upon
/ him in judgment, but by weakness I would not, which, though
it held me to him, made me unworthy of him. Therefore I
desired his leave, and obtained it, such confidence he had in
me, preferring my reputation before his own tenderness ; and
so privately went from him, he determining, as after I knew,
in secret manner, not to be far from the place where v/e ap-
pointed to meet, to prevent any foul play that might be
offered unto me. Full loth was Erona to let us depart
from her, as it were, fore-feeling the harms which after fell
to her.
"Passing through a land full of timber-trees, where I might
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 193
look for no companions but the wild burgesses* of the forest,
I heard cries coming by pauses to mine ears from a gentleman,
whom I found bound and stripped from his waist upwards,
who was continually pricked by nine gentlewomen — truly
such, they were handsome — who held bodkins in their hands,
and who said they were executing vengeance on this naughty
man for deceiving women, who had said there was no incon-
stancy to change one love to another, but great constancy ;
'therefore,' said they, 'we are about to mangle him, so that he
shall have lost his credit for beauty. His name is Pamphilus.'
Him I rescued from these gentlewomen and their servants ;
and as I did so, speaking with one lady who. had told this
story, named Dido, who thus would have punished this false
-^neas, there comes a number of his friends, and I was forced
to forsake the ensign under which I had served, and spend
my uttermost force in protecting her. And so I, leaving her
in a place of security, as she thought, went on my journey
towards A naxiu s. for whom I was fain to stay two days in
the appointed place, he disdaining to wait for me till he was
sure I were there.
" I did patiently abide his angry pleasure, till about that
space of time he came, indeed, according to promise, alone.
And as soon as ever he came near me in fit distance for his
purpose, he, with much fury, but with fury skilfully guided,
ran upon me ; which I, in the best sort I could, resisted,
having kept myself ready for him, because I had under-
stood that he observed few compliments in matter of arms
but such as a proud anger did indite unto him. And so,
putting our horses into a full career, we hit each other upon
the head with our lances. I think he felt my blow ; for my
* Biirgesses of the fo7'est — The deer — a simile used frequently by
Sidney in his poems, and also by Shakespeare and other poets j the
"fat and greasy citizens" of Jaques.
O
J
194 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
part, I must confess I never received the like ; but I think,
though my senses were astonied, my mind forced them to
quicken themselves, because I had learned of him how little
favour he is wont to show in any matter of advantage. And in-
deed he was turned and coming upon me with his sword drawn,
both our staves* having been broken at that encounter; but
I was so ready to answer him that truly I know not who gave
the first blow. But whosoever gave the first was quickly
seconded by the second. And indeed, excellentest lady, I must
say true, for a time it was well fought between us, he un-
doubtedly being of singular valour — I would God it were not
abased by his too much loftiness ; but as, by the occasion of
the combat, winning and losing ground, we changed places,
his horse happened to come upon the point of the broken
spear, which, fallen to the ground, chanced to stand upward,
so as it lighting upon his heart, the horse died. He, driven
to dismount, threatened, 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 victory, I descended. So began our foot-fight in
such sort that we were well entered to blood of both sides,
when there comes by that unconstant Pamphilus, whom
I had delivered (easy to be known, for he was barefaced),
with a dozen armed men after him ; but before him he
had Dido, that lady who had most sharply punished him,
riding upon a palfrey, he following her with most unmanlike
cruelty, beating her with wands he had in his hand, she cry-
ing for sense of pain, or hope of succour, which was so piti-
ful a sight unto me that it moved me to require Anaxius to
defer our combat till another day, and now to perform the
duties of knighthood in helping this distressed lady. But he,
that disdains to obey anything but his passion, which he calls
* Our staves — The staves of the two knights' lances.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 195
his mind, bade me leave off that thought ; but when he had
killed me he would then, perhaps, go to her succour. But I,
well finding the fight would be long between us — longing in my
heart to deliver poor Dido — giving him so great a blow as some-
what stayed him, (to term it aright) I flatly ran away from him
toward my horse, who trotting after the company, in mine
armour I was put to some pain, but that use made me nimble
unto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me ;
but his proud heart did so disdain that exercise that I had
quickly over-run him, and overtaken my horse, being, I must
confess, ashamed to see a number of country folks, who hap-
pened to pass thereby, who hallooed and hooted after me as
at the arrantest coward that ever showed his shoulders to his
enemy. But when I had leaped on my horse, with such speedy
agility that they all cried, ' O ! see how fear gives him wings,' I
turned to Anaxius and aloud promised him to return thither ^
again, as soon as I had relieved the injured lady. But he,
railing at me with all the base words angry contempt could
indite, I said no more but, ' Anaxius, assure thyself I
neither fear thy force nor thy opinion.' And so, using no
weapon of a knight as at that time but my spurs, I ran, in my
knowledge after Pamphilus, but in all their conceits from
Anaxius,* which, as far as I could hear, I might well hear tes-
tified with such laughters and games that I was some few
times moved to turn back again.
" The lady's misery overbalanced my reputation, and after j
her I went, and released her from Pamphilus and his friends-
injurious wretches, most of whom carried news to the other
world, that amongst men secret wrongs are not always left un-
punished, Pamphilus escaping in the rearward. The lady in-
vited me to her father's castle, one of good strength, having a
* Pyrocles knew that he was running to rescue the lady ; but the
spectators thought that he was flying from Anaxius.
O 2
196 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
great moat about it, the work of a noble gentleman, of whose
unthrifty son the father of Dido, one Chremes, a drivelling
old fellow, lean, shaking of both hands, already half in earth,
yet then most greedy of earth, had bought it. He would
scarcely give me thanks for what I had done, but talked of
nothing but his poverty, for fear, belike, I should prove a bor-
rower. His house was bare — a picture of rich beggary, served
with rustical villains full of sweat and dust, and all his pre-
parations would make one detest niggardliness, it is so
sluttish a vice. This Chremes, I found, would have sold
me to Queen Artaxia, I having slain her brother Tiri-
dates, and she offering a hundred thousand crowns for my
head. So he surrounded me with his clowns, some upon
cart jades, to bear me on my way — which I might have sus-
pected, as a churl's courtesy rarely comes but either for gain or
falsehood — until I found myself in the midst of a great troop of
enemies, who willed me to yield myself to the Queen Artaxia.
" But they could not have used worse eloquence ; so, making
my necessity both my sword and my shield, I made what use
I could of my other weapons to cut my way through them,
Chremes having withdrawn, gilding his wicked conceits with
the hope of gain. But I was grown so weary that I supported
myself more with anger than strength, when the most excel-
lent Musidorus came to my succour, who, having followed
/my trace as well as he could, after he found I had left
the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggard's castle, where
\ he found all burned and spoiled by the country people, who
^^ bare mortal hatred to that covetous man, and now took the
'^ time, when the castle was left almost without guard, to come
* in and leave monuments of their malice therein ; which
f Musidorus not staying either to further or impeach, came
•> upon the spur after me, because with one voice many told
him that if I were in his company it was for no good meant
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 197
unto me, and in this extremity found me. But when I saw
that cousin of mine, methought my life was doubled, and
where I before thought of a noble death I now thought of a
noble victory ; for who can fear that hath Musidorus by him ?
who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not
stranger for the number than for the strange blows wherewith
he sent them to a well-deserved death, might well delight me
to speak of, but I should so hold you too long in every par-
ticular. But in truth, there, if ever, and ever if ever any man,
did Musidorus show himself second to none in able valour.
" Yet what the unmeasurable excess of their number would
have done in the end I know not ; but the trial thereof w^as
cut off by the chanceable coming thither of the King of Iberia,
that same father of the worthy Plangus whom it hath pleased
you sometimes to mention, who, not yielding over to old age
his country delights, especially of hawking, was, at that time
following a merlin, brought to see this injury offered unto
us ; and, having great numbers of courtiers waiting upon
him, was straight known by the soldiers that assaulted us to
be their king, and so most of them withdrew themselves.
" He, by his authority, knowing of the captain's own con-
strained confession what was the motive of this mischievous
practice, misliking much such violence should be offered in
his country to men of our rank, but chiefly disdaining it should
be done in respect of his niece, whom, I must confess wrong-
fully, he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and
she had maintained his son Plangus against him, caused the
captain's head presently to be stricken off, and the old bad
Chremes to be hanged ; though, truly, for my part, I
earnestly laboured for his hfe, because I had eaten of his
bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his
miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter — who,
alas ! poor gentlewoman, was by chance slain among his
198 ARCADIA.— Book II.
clowns, while she, over-boldly for her weak sex, sought to
hold them from me — nor yet his own shameful end was so
much in his mouth as he was led to execution as the loss of
his goods and burning of his house, which often, with more
laughter than tears of the hearers, he made pitiful exclama-
tions upon.
'"This justice thus done, and we delivered, the king, indeed
in royal sort, invited us to his court, not far thence, in all
points entertaining us so as truly I must ever acknowledge a
beholdingness unto him, although the stream of it fell out
not to be so sweet as the spring.* For, after some days being
there, curing ourselves of such wounds as we had received,
while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could
learn nothing but that he was gone out of the country, boast-
ing in every place how he had made me run away, we were
brought to receive the favour of acquaintance with this Queen
AjQdromana, whom the Princess Pamela did in so lively
colours describe the last day, as still, methinks, the figure
thereof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the knowledge
myself had.
" I must make you to know what kind of woman she was,
who greatly affected us both, and who many times tore the
veil of her modesty, having the scutcheon of her desires sup-
portedf by certain badly diligent ministers, who often cloyed
our ears with her praises, and would needs teach us a way of
felicity by seeking her favour. Nay, when we were deaf, she
would no longer stay in the suburbs of her desires, but directly
entered upon them, making herself an impudent suitor,
confessing the contention in her mind between the lovely
* Not so sweet as the sprhtg — /. e. , The beginning of his kindness
was sweeter than its continuation.
t Scutcheon of her desires supported — A simile taken from the blazon
of heraldry, wherein the shield or escutcheon of achievements is
upheld by heraldic animals termed supporters.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 199
brownness of Musidorus his face and this colour of mine. She
would begin half her sentence with Musidorus and end the
other half to Pyrocles. I do more largely set this proceeding
of hers before you, most dear lady, because, by the foil thereof,
you may see the nobleness of my desire to you, and the war-
rantableness of your favour to me."
At that Philoclea smiled a little. " But," said Pyrocles,
" when this lady prevailed nought with us, she made herself so
absolute a master of her husband's mind that she could obtain
the direction of everything, and so she servilely intreated us ;
and love, that would have poisoned me with roses, healed me
with wormwood ; for she sauced her desires with threatenings, ^/
deprived us of our arms, and threw us into prison. This
king by his queen had a son of tender age, but of great expec-
tation, brought up in the hope of themselves, and already
acceptation of the inconstant people, as successor of his
father's crown, whereof he was as worthy, considering his
parts, as unworthy in respect of the wrong which was thereby
done against the most noble Plangus, whose great deserts
now either forgotten or ungratefully remembered, all men set
their sails with the favourable wind, which blew on the for-
tune of this young prince, perchance not in their hearts, but
surely in their mouths, now giving Plangus, who some years
before was their only champion, the poor comfort of calamity
— pity. This youth, therefore, accounted prince of that region,
by name Palladius, did with vehement affection love a young "^
lady, brought up in his father's court, called Zelmane, daughter
to that mischievously unhappy Prince Plexirtus, of whom
already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honour-
able mention; left there by her father, because of the intricate
changeableness of his estate, he, by the mother's side, being
half-brother to this Queen Andromana, and therefore the
willinger committing her to her care. But as love, alas !
200 ARCADIA.— Book II.
doth not always reflect itself,* so fell it out that this Zelmane,
though truly reason there was enough to love Palladius, yet
could not ever persuade her heart to yield thereunto, with that
pain to Palladius as they feel that feel an unloved love ; yet,
loving indeed, and therefore constant, he used still the inter-
cession of diligence and faith, ever hoping, because he would
not put himself into that hell to be hopeless, until the time of
our being come and captived there brought forth this end,
which truly deserves of me a further degree of sorrow than tears.
" Such was therein my ill destiny, that this young lady, Zel-
mane, like some unwisely liberal, that more delight to give
presents than pay debts, she chose — alas for the pity ! —
rather to bestow her love, so much undeserved as not de-
sired, upon me, than to recompense him whose love, besides
many other things, might seem, even in the court of honour,
justly to claim it of her. But so it was — alas that so it was ! —
whereby it came to pass that, as nothing doth more naturally
follow its cause than care to preserve and benefit, doth follow
unfeigned affection, she felt with me what I felt of my cap-
tivity, and straight laboured to redress my pain, which was
her pain : which she could do by no better means than by
using the help therein of Palladius; who, true lover, con-
sidering what, and not why, in all her commandments, and
indeed she concealing from him her affection — which she in-
tituled compassion — immediately obeyed to employ his utter-
most credit to relieve us ; which though as great as a beloved
son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hardhearted
toward him, yet it could not prevail to procure us liberty.
Wherefore he sought to have that by practicef which he could
* Reflect itself — A simile taken from a mirror ; love does not always
create love in the person upon whom its shadow is thrown.
t Practice — Cmining stratagem. "And in this first yere also this
realme was troubled with the ciuile sedition, and the cva.hie practises
of the Frenchmen." — Grafton, Hen. IV. an. i.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 201
not by prayer. And so, being allowed often to visit us — for
indeed our restraints were more or less, according as the ague
of her passion was either in the fit or intermission — he used
the opportunity of a time thus to deliver us.
" The time of the marrying [of] that queen was every year,
by the extreme love of her husband and the serviceable love
of the courtiers, made notable by some public honours, which
did, as it were, proclaim to the world how dear she was to
that people. Among other, none was either more grateful to
the beholders or more noble in itself than jousts, both with
sword and lance, maintained for a sevennight together :
wherein that nation doth so excel, both for comeliness and
ableness, that from neighbour countries they ordinarily come,
some to strive, some to learn, some to behold.
" This day it happened that divers famous knights came
thither from the court of Helen, queen of Corinth, a lady
whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honour that she
borrowed all men's mouths to join with the sound of her
trumpet ; for, as her beauty hath won the prize from all
women that stand in degree of comparison (for, as for the
two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceit of
comparison), so hath her government been such as hath been
no less beautiful to men's judgments than her beauty to the
eyesight. For, being brought, by right of birth, a woman, a
young woman, a fair woman, to govern a people in nature
mutinously proud, and always before so used to hard gover-
nors as they knew not how to obey without the sword were
drawn, yet could she for some years so carry herself among
them, that they found cause, in the delicacy of her sex, of
admiration, not of contempt, and, which was notable, even
in the time that many countries about her were full of wars,
which, for old grudges to Corinth, were thought still would
conclude there, yet so handled she the matter that the
202 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
threatened ever smarted in the threateners, she using so
strange, and yet so well-succeeding a temper that she made
her people, by peace, warlike, her courtiers, by sports,
learned, her ladies, by love, chaste. For, by continual mar-
tial exercises without blood, she made them perfect in that
bloody art. Her sports were such as carried riches of know-
ledge upon the stream of delight ; and such the behaviour,
both of herself and her ladies, as builded their chastity, not
upon waywardness, but choice of worthiness. So as it
seemed that court to have been the marriage-place of Love
and Virtue, and that herself was a Diana apparelled in the
garments of Venus.* And this, which fame only delivered
unto me — for yet I have never seen her — I am the willinger to
speak of to you, who, I know, know her better, being your
near neighbour, because you may see by her example, in her-
self wise and of others beloved, that neither folly is the cause
of vehement love, nor reproach the effect ; for never, I think,
was there any woman that with more unremovable determi-
nation gave herself to the counsel of love, after she had once
set before her mind the worthiness of your cousin Amphialus ;
and yet is neither her wisdom doubted of nor honour
blemished. For, O God ! what doth better become wisdom
than to discern what is worthy the loving? What more
agreeable to goodness than to love it so discerned? and what
to greatness of heart than to be constant in it, once loved ?
But at that time that love of hers was not so publicly known
as the death of Philoxenus and her search of Amphialus hath
made it, but then seemed to have such leisure to send thither
* Under this figure of Helen, queen of Corinth, Diana apparelled
in the garments of Venus, "building her chastity not upon way-
wardness, but upon choice of worthiness, and whose court seemed
the marriage-place of Love and Virtue," no doubt Sidney allegorizes
his great mistress Queen Elizabeth.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 203
divers choice knights of her court, because they might bring
her, at least the knowledge, perchance the honour, of that
triumph. Wherein so they behaved themselves as for three
days they carried the prize, which being come from so far a
place to disgrace her servant, Palladius, who himself had never
used arms, persuaded the queen Andromana to be content,
for the honour's sake of her court, to suffer us two to have
our horse and armour, that he, with us, might undertake the
recovery of their lost honour ; which she granted, taking our
oath to go no further than her son, nor ever to abandon him,
which she did not more for saving him than keeping us.
And yet, not satisfied with our oath, appointed a band of
horsemen to have an eye that we should not go beyond
appointed limits. We were willing to gratify the young
prince, who we saw loved us. And so, the fourth day of that
exercise, we came into the field, where, I remember, the
manner was that the forenoon they should run at tilt, one
after the other, the afternoon in a broad field, in manner of a
battle, till either the stranger or that country knights won
the field.
'' Let it then suffice, most excellent lady, that you know
the Corinthians that morning in the exercise, as they had
done the days before, had the better, Palladius neither suf-
fering us nor himself to take in hand the party till the after-
noon, when we were to fight in troops, not differing otherwise
from earnest, but that the sharpness of the weapons was
taken away. But in the trial Palladius, especially led by
Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me, himself truly behav-
ing himself nothing like a beginner, brought the honour to
rest itself that night on the Iberian side, and the next day,
both morning and afternoon, being kept by our party, he,
that saw the time fit for the delivery he intended, called
unto us to follow him, which we, both bound by oath and
204 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
willing by good-will, obeyed ; and so, the guard not daring
to interrupt us, he commanding passage, we went after him,
upon the spur, to a little house in a forest near by, which
he thought would be the fittest resting-place, till we might go
further from his mother's fury ; whereat he was no less angry
and ashamed than desirous to obey Zelmane.
" But his mother, understanding how we were conveyed
away, pursued us, and overtook us in the kingdom of Bithynia,
and, regardless of another's dominions, set on us with about
threescore horsemen. By Musidorus' incredible valour we
had little to do to overcome w^eak wrong, and Palladius,
heated by victory, pursued our assailers, when one of them, a
special minion of Andromana's, with a traitorous blow, slew
his young prince ; and this so wrought on us that many of
his subjects' bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more
faithfully in another w'orld.
" All this while disdain, strengthened by the fury of a
furious love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat;
and, when she saw us light down to see what help w^e might
do to the helpless Palladius, she came running madly unto
us, then no less threatening when she had no more power to
hurt. But when she perceived it w^as her only son that lay
hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly as that already his life
had lost the use of the reasonable and almost sensible part,
then only did misfortune lay his [its] own ugliness upon her
fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she
had come, especially finding in us rather detestation than pity
(considering the loss of that young prince), and resolution
presently to depart, which still she laboured to stay. But,
deprived of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ran to her
son's dagger, and, before we were aware of it, who else would
have stayed it, strake herself a mortal wound. But then her
love, though not her person, awaked pity in us, and I went
ARCADIA.— Book II. 205
to her, while Musidorus laboured about Palladius. But the
wound was past cure of a better surgeon than myself ; so
as I could but receive some few of her dying words, which
were cursings of her illset affection, and wishing unto me
many crosses and mischances in my love, whensoever I
should love ; wherein I fear, and only fear, that her prayer is
from above granted. But the noise of this fight, and issue
thereof, being blazed by the country people to some noblemen
thereabouts, they came thither, and finding the wrong offered
us, let us go on our journey, we having recommended those
royal bodies unto them to be conveyed to the king of Iberia."
With that Philoclea, seeing the tears stand in his eyes
with remembrance of Palladius, but much more of that which
thereupon grew, she would needs drink a kiss from those
eyes, and he suck another from her lips, whereat she blushed,
and yet kissed him again to hide her blushing, which had
almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she
with so sweet a rigour forbad him that he durst not rebel,
though he found it great war to keep that peace, but was
fain to go on in his story ; for so she absolutely bade him,
and he durst not know to disobey.
" Parting before the sun had much abased himself, we met
a fair gentlewoman, one of the lovers of Pamphilus, to whom
the inconstant man had betrothed himself, and who was
about to slay herself, seeing that before his marriage day* he
had taken to wife Baccha, the most impudently unchaste
woman of all Asia,t as I had heard much blazed about. This
* Marriage day — The day of the marriage which should have
followed the betrothal.
f The most ivipiidently unchaste woman of all Asia — As Shake-
speare has taken some of his names from the Arcadia, so Beaumont
and Fletcher seem to have found it a storehouse for hints of plots,
titles, and names of the persons. Thus the title of "Cupid's
Revenge," one of their tragedies, seems to have been suggested by
2o6 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
lady Leucippe we in some sort comforted and conveyed to a
house thereby dedicated to vestal nuns, where she resolved
to spend all her years in bewailing the wrong and yet praying
for the wrong-doer.
" The next morning there overtook us a young gentleman,
for so he seemed to us, but indeed, sweet lady, it was the fair
Zelmane, Plexirtus' daughter, whom unconsulting affection,
unfortunately borne to mewards, had made borrow so much
of her natural modesty as to leave her more decent raiments,
and, taking occasion of Andromana's tumultuous pursuing us,
had apparelled herself like a page, with a pitiful cruelty cut-
ting off her golden hair, leaving nothing but the short curls
to cover that noble head, but that she ware upon it a fair
head-piece, a shield at her back, and a lance in her hand ;
else disarmed. Her apparel of white, wrought upon with
broken knots ; her horse fair and lusty, which she rid so as
might show a fearful boldness, daring to do that which she
knew that she knew not how to do ; and the sweetness of her
countenance did give such a grace to what she did, that it
did make handsome the unhandsomeness, and make the eye
force the mind to believe that there was a praise in that un-
skilfulness. But she straight approached me, and with few
words, which borrowed the help of her countenance to make
themselves understood, she desired me to accept her into my
service, telling me she was a nobleman's son of Iberia, her
name Daiphantus, who, having seen what I had done in that
court, had stolen from her father to follow me. I inquired
the particularities of the manner of Andromana's following
me, which by her I understood, she hiding nothing but her
sex from me. And still methought I had seen that face, but
the story of Erona (see page 173), though the plot is different ; while
the names of Leucippus the hero, and his wicked mistress Bacha
(so spelt), are drawn from this portion of Sidney's book.
ARCADIA.— Booh IL 207
the great alteration of her fortune made her far distant from
my memory ; but, Hking very well the young gentleman — such
I took her to be — admitted this Daiphantus about me, who
well showed there is 110 service like his that serves because
he loves.* For, though born of princes' blood, brought up
with tenderest education, unapt to service because a woman,
and full of thoughts because in a strange estate, yet Love
enjoined such diligence that no apprentice, no, no bondslave,
could ever be by fear more ready at all commandments than
that young princess was. How often, alas ! did her eyes
say unto me that they loved, and yet I, not looking for such
a matter, had not my conceit open to understand them !
How often would she come creeping to me, between gladness
to be near me and fear to offend me ! Truly I remember
that then I marvelled to see her receive my commandments
with sighs, and yet do them with cheerfulness, sometimes
answering me in such riddles as I then thought a childish
inexperience ; but, since returning to my remembrance, they
have come more clear unto my knowledge ; and pardon me,
only-dear lady, that I use many words, for her affection to
me deserves of me an affectionate speech.
" In such sort did she serve me in the ki«gdom of Bithynia,
that we brought to an end a cruel war between the king and
his brother. This done, we intended to ease the care of our
father and mother, when we were guided by the noise of a
great fight to a pleasant valley, which, like one of those cir-
cuses in great cities, doth give a pleasant sight for running
horses, hemmed in by woody hills as if Nature therein had
made a place for beholders. There beheld we one of the
* A most charming sentence ; the thought as beautiful as true.
It is such as these, and there are many, that more than redeem the
involved tediousness of the Arcadia. Of their worth Sidney (or his
publisher) seems to have been fully aware, as they were set in italics.
2o8 ARCADIA.— Book II.
cruellest fights between two knights that ever hath adorned
the most martial story. So as I must confess awhile we stood
bewondered, another while delighted, with the rare beauty
thereof, till, seeing such streams of blood as threatened a
drowning of life, we galloped toward them to part them.
But we were prevented by a dozen armed knights, or rather
villains, who, using this time of their extreme feebleness, all
together set upon them. But common danger brake off par-
tiv-ular discord ; so that, though with a dying weakness, with a
lively courage they resisted, and by our help drave away or
slew those murdering attempters, among whom we hapt to
take alive the principal. But, going to disarm those two ex-
cellent knights, we found, with no less wonder to us than
astonishment to themselves, that they were the two valiant
and indeed famous brothers Tydeus and Telenor, whose
adventure, as afterwards we made that ungracious wretch
confess, had thus fallen out.
" After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his father's death
succeeded in the kingdom of Galatia, he, forgetting all former
injuries, had received that naughty Plexirtus into a stray
degree of favour, his goodness being as apt to be deceived
as the other's craft was to deceive, till by plain proof finding
that the ungrateful man went about to poison him, yet would
he not suffer his kindness to be overcome, not by justice it-
self, but, calling him to him, used words to this purpose :
' Plexirtus,' said he, ' this wickedness is found by thee ; no
good deeds of mine have been able to keep it down in thee ;
all men counsel me to take away thy life, likely to bring forth
nothing but as dangerous as wicked effects ; but I cannot
find it in my heart, remembering what father's son thou art ;
but since it is the violence of ambition, which perchance
pulls thee from thine own judgment, I will see whether the
satisfying that may quiet the ill-working of thy spirits. Not
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 299
far hence is the great city of Trebisond, which, with the
territory about it, anciently pertained unto this crown, now
unjustly possessed and as unjustly abused by those who have
neither title to hold it nor virtue to rule it. To the conquesti
of that for thyself I will lend thee force and give thee my
right. Go, therefore, and with less unnaturalness glut thy
ambition there ; and that done, if it be possible, learn virtue.
" Plexirtus, mingling forsworn excuses with false-meant
promises, gladly embraced the offer, and, hastily sending
back for those two brothers, who at that time were with us
succouring that gracious queen Erona, by their virtue chiefly,
if not only, obtained the conquest of that goodly dominion.
Which indeed done by them, gave them such an authority
that, though he reigned, they in effect ruled, most men
honouring them because they only deserved honour ; and
many thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how
much he was bound unto them, while they likewise, with a
certain sincere boldness of self-warranting friendship, ac-
cepted all openly and plainly, thinking nothing should ever
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 men's doing but self-seeking, suddenly feared
what they could do, and as suddenly suspected what they
would do, and as suddenly hated them, as having both might
and mind to do. But, dreading their power, standing so
strongly in their own valour and others' affection, he durst
not take open way against them, and as hard it was to take
a secret, they being so continually followed by the best and
every way ablest of that region, and therefore used this
devilish sleight, which I will tell you, not doubting, most
wicked man, to turn their own friendship toward him to their
own destruction. He, knowing that they well knew there
P
2IO ARCADIA.— Book II.
was no friendship between him and the new king of Pontus,
never since he succoured Leonatus and us to his overthrow,
gave them to understand that of late there had passed secret
defiance between them to meet privately at a place appointed ;
which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatness,
yet was his honour so engaged as he could not go back. Yet
feigning to find himself weak by some counterfeit infirmity,
the day drawing near, he requested each of them to go in his
stead, making either of them swear to keep the matter secret,
even from each other, delivering the self-same particularities
to both, but that he told Tydeus the king would meet him
^ in a blue armour, and Telenor that it was a black armour ;
and with wicked subtilty, as if it had been so appointed,
caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a blue ;
appointing them ways how to go, so as he knew they should
not meet till they came to the place appointed, where each
promised to keep silence lest the king should discover it was
not Plexirtus ; and there in await had he laid these mur-
therers, that who overlived the other should by them be
despatched, he not daring, trust more than those with that
enterprise, and yet thinking them too few till themselves,
by themselves, were weakened.
" This we learned chiefly by the chief of those way-beaters
after the death of those two worthy brothers, whose love was
no less than their valour ; but well we might find much
thereof by their pitiful lamentation, when they knew their
mismeeting, and saw each other, in despite of the surgery we
could do unto them, striving who should run fastest to the
goal of death ; each bewailing the other, and more dying in
the other than in himself ; cursing their own hands for doing,
and their breasts for not sooner suffering, detesting their
unfortunately spent time in having served so ungrateful a
tyrant, and accusing their folly in having beheved he could
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 211
faithfully love who did not love faithfulness, wishing us to
take heed how we placed our good-will upon any other
ground than proof of virtue, since length of acquaintance,
mutual secrecies, nor height of benefits could bind a savage
heart, no man being good to other that is not good in
himself ; then, while any hope was, beseeching us to leave
the care of him that besought, and only look to the other.
But when they found by themselves and us no possibility, they
desired to be joined, and so, embracing and craving that
pardon each of other which they denied to themselves, they
gave us a most sorrowful spectacle of their death, leaving
few in the world behind them their matches in anything if
they had soon enough known the ground and limits of
friendship. But with woeful hearts we caused those bodies
to be conveyed to the next town of Bithynia, where we,
learning thus much as I have told you, caused the wicked
historian to conclude his story with his owfi well-deserved
death.
" But then, I must tell you, I found such woeful counten-
ances in Daiphantus that I could not but much marvel,
finding them continue beyond the first assault of pity, how
the case of strangers, for further I did not conceive, could so
deeply pierce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the
shame and sorrow she took of her father's faultiness, partly
with the fear that the hate I conceived against him would
utterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever I should
know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fair colour
decayed, and daily and hastily grew into the very extreme
working of sorrowfulness, which oft I sought to learn and
help. But she, as fearful as loving, still concealed it ; and so
decaying still more and more in the excellency of her fairness,
;but that whatsoever weakness took away pity seemed to add ;
yet still she; forced herself to wait on me with such care and
P 2
212 ARCADIA.— Book IL
diligence as might well show had been taught in no other
school but love.
" While we, returning again to embark ourselves for Greece,
understood that the mighty Otanes, brother to Barzanes slain
by Musidorus, in the battle of the six princes, had entered upon
the kingdom of Pontus, partly upon the pretences he had to
the crown, but principally because he would revenge upon
him whom he knew we loved the loss of his brother, thinking,
as indeed he had cause, that wheresoever we were, hearing of
his extremity, we would come to relieve him, in spite whereof
he doubted not to prevail, not only upon the confidence of
his own virtue and power, but especially because he had in
his company two mighty giants, sons to a couple whom we
slew in the same realm ; they having been absent at their
father's death, and now returned, willingly entered into his
service, hating, more than he, both us and that king of Pontus.
We therefore with all speed went thitherward ; but by the way
this fell out, which whensoever I remember without sorrow,
I must forget withal all humanity.
" Poor Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquer
the delicacy of her constitution, and force herself to wait on
me, till one day, going toward Pontus, we met one who in
great haste went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose
death as yet was not known unto the messenger, who, being
their servant, and knowing how dearly they loved Plexirtus,
brought them word how, since their departing, Plexirtus was
in present danger of a cruel death, if by the valiantness of
one of the best knights of the world he were not rescued. We
inquired no further of the matter, being glad he should now
to his loss find what an unprofitable treason it had been
unto him to dismember himself of two such friends, and so
let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his
masters' destruction by the falsehood of Plexirtus.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 213
" But the grief of that, finding a body already brought to the
last degree of weakness, so overwhelmed the little remnant
of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell suddenly into
deadly swoonings, never coming to herself but that withal
she returned to make most pitiful lamentations, most strange
unto us because we were far from guessing the ground
thereof. But finding her sickness such as began to print
death in her eyes, we made all haste possible to convey her
to the next town ; but before we could lay her on a bed, both
we and she might find in herself that the harbingers of
over-hasty death had prepared his lodging in that dainty
body, which she undoubtedly feeling, with a weak cheerful-
ness showed comfort therein, and then, desiring us both to
come near her, and that nobody else might be present, with
pale, and yet, even in paleness, lovely lips, * Now or never,
and never indeed but now, is it time for me,' said she, ' to
speak ; and I thank death, which gives me leave to discover
that the suppressing whereof perchance hath been 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 unfortunate Zelmane, who for
your sake caused my as unfortunate lover and cousin Palla-
dius to leave his father's court, and, consequently, both him
and my aunt his mother to lose their lives. For your sake
myself have become of a princess a page, and for your sake
have put off the apparel of a woman, and, if you judge not
more mercifully, the modesty.' We were amazed at her
speech, and then had, as it were, new eyes given us to
perceive that which before had been a present stranger
to our minds ; for indeed forthwith we knew it to be the
face of Zelmane, whom before we had known in the court
of Iberia. And, sorrow and pity laying her pain upon
me, I comforted her the best I could by the tenderness of
214 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
good-will, pretending, indeed, better hope than I had of her
recovery.
"But she, that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant
that shortly would oppress her, ' No, my dear master,' said
she, ' I neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would
never have loved me ' — and with that word she wept — ' nor,
alas ! had it been reason you should, considering many ways
my unworthiness. It sufficeth me that the strange course I
have taken shall to your remembrance witness my love ; and
yet this breaking of my heart, before I would discover my
pain, will make you, I hope, think that I was not altogether
unmodest. Think of me so, dear master, and that thought
shall be my life ;' and with that languishingly looking upon
me, ' and I pray you,' said she, ' even by these dying eyes of
mine, which are only sorry to die because they shall lose your
sight, and by these polled locks of mine, which, while they
were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short
curls, the testimony of my servitude ; and by the service I
have done you, which God knows has been full of love, think
of m6 after my death with kindness, though you cannot with
love. And whensoever ye shall make any other lady happy
with your well-placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray
you speak of it not with scorn, but with pity.' I assure you,
dear princess of my life — for how could it be otherwise? — her
words and her manner, with the lively consideration of her
love, so pierced me, that though I had divers griefs before,
yet methought I never felt till then how much sorrow en-
feebled all resolution ; for I could not choose but yield to the
weakness of abundant weeping ; in truth with such grief that
I could willingly at that time have changed lives with her.
" But when she saw my tears, ' O God,' said she, ' how
largely am I recompensed for my losses.! why, then,' said she,
' I may take boldness to make some requests unto you.' I
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 215
besought her to do, vowing the performance, though my life
were the price thereof. She showed great joy : ' The first,'
said she, ' is this, that you will pardon my father the dis-
pleasure you have justly conceived against him, and for this
once succour him out of the danger wherein he is : I hope he
will amend : and I pray you, whensoever you remember him
to be the faulty Plexirtus, remember withal that he is Zel-
mane's father. The second is, that when you come once into
Greece, you will take unto yourself this name, though un-
lucky, of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it : for
so shall I be sure you shall have cause to remember me ; and
let it please your noble cousin to be called Palladius, that I
may do that right to that poor prince, that his name yet may
live upon the earth in so excellent a person ; and so between
you I trust sometimes your unlucky page shall be, perhaps
with a sigh, mentioned. Lastly, let me be buried here ob-
scurely, not suffering my friends to know my fortune, till,
when you are safely returned to your own country, you cause
my bones to be conveyed thither, and laid, I beseech you, in
some place where yourself vouchsafe sometimes to resort.'
Alas ! small petitions for such a suitor ! which yet she so
earnestly craved that I was fain to swear the accomplishment.
And then kissing me, and often desiring me not to condemn
her of lightness, in mine arms she delivered her pure soul to
the purest place ; leaving me as full of agony as kindness,
pity, and sorrow could make an honest heart. For I must
confess for true, that if my stars had not wholly reserved me
for you, there else, perhaps, I might have loved, and, which
had been most strange, begun my love after death : whereof
let it be the less marvel, because somewhat she did resemble
you, though as far short of your perfection as herself dying
was of herself flourishing ; yet something there was which,
when I saw a picture of yours, brought again her figure into
2i6 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
my remembrance, and made my heart as apt to receive the
wound as the power of your beauty with unresistible force
to pierce.*
" But we, in woeful and yet private manner burying her,
performed her commandment ; and then, inquiring of her
father's estate, certainly learned that he was presently to be
succoured, or by death to pass the need of succour. There-
fore we determined to divide ourselves ; I, according to my
.* With the exception of the page Bellario, in Beaumont and Fletcher's
"Philaster," perhaps there is no similar character in literature which
excites so melancholy a pleasure as that of Daiphantus. Her death,
which Beaumont has not copied, is so tenderly described that we feel
Charles Lamb was speaking within bounds when he coupled the
Arcadia with Milton's "Comus." Lamb, a true lover of Sidney,
seems to have been unaware that the character of Bellario is bor-
rowed from Daiphantus, and he therefore assigns to Beaumont and
Fletcher, although Shakespeare had preceded them, the starting of
the fashion of "these women pages;" a fashion which, he says,
evidences " the extreme popularity of Bellario." Women were then
played by boys. " What an odd double confusion it must have
been," adds Lamb, " to see a boy play a woman playing a man;
one cannot disentangle the perplexity without some violence to the
imagination." This fashion had, in Sidney's days, a basis of reality;
thus Donne wrote a copy of verses addressed to his mistress, dis-
suading her from a resolution she had taken of following him abroad
dressed as a page. She was the daughter of Sir George Moore, and
her story ought to be well known, since it is charmingly written m
Walton's Lives : —
"By thy father's wrath,
I conjure thee ; and all the oaths which I
And thou have sworn to seal joint constancy
I here unswear, and overswear them thus :
Thou shalt not love by means so dangerous.
Temper, 0-fair Love, love's impetuous rage ;
Be my true mistress, not myfeig?iedpage."
From this noble ardour of true love, this heat and glow experienced
by such men as Sidney and Donne, to the cold calculations of our
youth, which seeks even base ways to place impediments to marriage,
what a fall is there ! But, indeed, in the great Queen's days the
inhabitants of this island were not politico-economical-calculating
machines, but real live, loving, and God-fearing men and women.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 217
vow, to help liim, and Musidorus toward the king of Pontus,
who stood in no less need than immediate succour ; and, even
ready to depart one from the other, there came a messenger
from him, who, after some inquiry, found us, giving us to
understand that he, trusting upon us two, had appointed the
combat between him and us against Otanes and the two
giants. 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 strange
working of unjust fortune, I was to leave the standing by
Musidorus, whom better than myself I loved, to go save him
whom, for just causes, I hated. But my promise given, and ;
given to Zelmane, and to Zelmane dying, prevailed more with
me than my friendship to Musidorus : though certainly I may
affirm nothing had so great rule in my thoughts as that. But
my promise carried me the easier, because Musidorus himself
would not suffer me to break it. And so with heavy minds,
more careful each of other's success than of our own, we parted.
" The virtuous Leonatus, understanding two so good friends
of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one him-
self, where he did valiantly, and so did the king of Pontus.
But the truth is, that they both being sore hurt, the incom-
parable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both
the giants and the taking of Otanes prisoner, to whom as he
gave his life, so he got a noble friend, for so he gave his word
to be, and he is well known to think himself greater in being
subject to that, than in the greatness of his principality.
" But thither, understanding of our being there, flocked great
multitudes of many great persons and even of princes, especially
those whom we had made beholding unto us, as the kings of
Phrygia, Bithynia, with those two hurt of Pontus and Galatia,
and Otanes, the prisoner by Musidorus set free ; and thither
came Plexirtus of Trebisond, and Antiphilus, then king of
2i8 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
Lydia, with as many mo* great princes, drawn either by our
reputation or by wilHngness to acknowledge themselves
obliged unto us for what we had done for the others. So as
in those parts of the world, I think, in many hundreds of
years, there was not seen so royal an assembly, where nothing
was let pass to do us the highest honours which such persons,
who might command both purses and inventions, could per-
form ; all from all sides bringing unto us right royal presents,
which we, to avoid both unkindness and importunity, libe-
rally received, and, not content therewith, would needs accept
as from us their crowns, and acknowledge to hold them of us,
with many other excessive honours, which would not suffer
the measure of this short leisure to describe unto you.
" But we, quickly aweary thereof, hasted to Greece-ward, led
thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened
principally because I understood that Anaxius, with open
mouth of defamation, had gone thither to seek me, and was
now come to Peleponnesus, where from court to court he
made inquiry of me, doing yet himself so noble deeds as
might hap to authorize an ill opinion of me. We therefore
suffered but short delays, desiring to take this country in our
way, so renowned over the world that no prince could pre-
tend height nor beggar lowness to bar him from the sound
thereof — renowned indeed, not so much for the ancient
* Mo — Our adjective ''more," which Tooke says is the present and
past participle of the Anglo-Saxon maw-an, 7fietere, to measure, has
passed through various changes till it stands mo, nio-er (more), mo- est
(most), among others, mokel, mykel, mochel, mitchel, moche, much.
Some of the above forms are still retained in Scotland. Ala is used
for "more" by Shakespeare — "Then sigh no mo, but let them go,"
is a very familiar instance — and by the old dramatists veiy frequently —
" The moe the stronger, if they gree in one " ("Ferrex and Porrex,"
i. 1 16) — and in the Bible of 1551 — ■" Agayn he sent othir seruauntes,
moo then the first, and they serued them lykewyse " — and also in the
early editions of the authorized version.
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 219'
praises attributed thereunto, as for the having in it Argalus
and Amphialus, two knights of such rare prowess as we de-
sired especially to know, and yet by far not so much for that
as without suffering of the comparison for the beauty of you
and your sister, which makes all indifferent judges that speak
thereof account this country as a temple of deities. But these
causes, indeed, moving us to come by this land, we embarked
ourselves in the next port, whither all those princes, saving
Antiphilus, who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry
longer from Erona, conveyed us ; and there found we a ship
most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who had made all things
so proper, as well for our defence as ease, that all the other
princes greatly commended him for it, who seemed a quite
altered man, had nothing but repentance in his eyes, friend-
ship in his gesture, and virtue in his mouth ; so that we, who
had promised the sweet Zelmane to pardon him, now not
only forgave, but began to favour, persuading ourselves, with
a youthful credulity, that perchance things were not so evil as
we took them, and, as it were, desiring our own memory that
it might be so. Committing ourselves to the uncertain discre-
tion of the wind, we — then determining, as soon as we came to
Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as well
for own promise to Zelmane as because we desired to come
unknown into Greece — left the Asian shore, full of princely
persons, who even upon their knees recommended our safe-
ties to the devotion of their chief desires, among whom none
hath been so officious, though, I dare affirm, all quite con-
trary to his unfaithfulness, as Plexirtus.
" And so having sailed almost two days, looking for nothing
but when we might look upon the land, a grave man, whom
we had seen of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as
our principal guide, came unto us, and, with a certain kind
manner, mixed with shame and repentance, began to tell us
220 ARCADIA.— Book II.
that he had taken such a love unto us, considering our youth
and fame, that, though he were a servant, and a servant of
such trust about Plexirtus as that he had committed unto
him even those secrets of his heart which abhorred all other
knowledge, yet he rather chose to reveal at this time a most
pernicious counsel than, by concealing it, bring to ruin those
whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and
told us that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to have Artaxia,
endowed with the great kingdom of Armenia, to his wife) had
given him order, when we were near Greece, to find some
opportunity to murder us, bidding him to take us asleep,
because he had seen what we could do waking.
"' Now, sirs,' said he, ' I would rather lose my life than
have my remembrance poisoned with such a mischief.
Therefore stand upon your guard ; and what I can do for
your help you shall see, if it come to the push, by me per-
formed.' And truly, when we came within half a day's sailing
of the shore, the captain, who had been a pirate, and in that
much blooded, set upon us, crying that if Plexirtus desired
he would kill God himself So straight against the captain
we— time being indeed come — went. He was environed with
soldiers and mariners. Yet some, either in doubt of the
king or in liking for us, drew their swords on our side ; and it
quickly grew a confused fight. From the highest to the
lowest part of the ship there was no place left without cries
of murdering or of murdered persons, and after many were
slain, while the little remnant, like the children of Cadmus,
continued to slay one another, fire, either by the desperate
malice of some, or accidentally, broke out in the ship, and
soon the mast fell overboard, and the fire growing nearer us,
it was not only 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
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 221
ourselves, and laying ourselves upon such things as we
thought might help our swimming to the land — too far for our
own strength to bear us — my cousin and I threw ourselves '
into the sea. But I had sworn a very little way when I felt,
by reason of a wound I had, that I should not be able to
abide the travel ; and, therefore, seeing the mast, whose
tackling had been burnt off, float clear from the ship, I swam
unto it, and getting on it I found mine own sword, which by
chance, when I threw it away, caught by a piece of canvas,
had hung to the mast. I was glad, because I loved it well,
but gladder when I saw at the other end the captain of the
ship, and of all this mischief, who having a long pike, belike
had borne himself up with that till he had set himself upon
the mast. But when I perceived him, ' Villain,' said I, ' dost
thou think to overlive so many honest men whom thy false-
hood hath brought to destruction }' With that bestriding,
the mast, I gat by little and little towards him, after such
manner as boys are wont, if ever you saw that sport, when
they ride the wild mare.* And he perceiving my intention,
like a fellow that had much more courage than honesty, set
himself to resist ; but I had in short space gotten within him,t
and, giving him a sound blow, sent him to feed fishes. But
there myself remained, until by pirates I was taken up, and
among them again taken prisoner and brought into Laconia."
" But what," said Philoclea, " became of your cousin
* Ride the wild mare — A game common with boys from Saxon
times even till now.
''''Doll. Why does the Prince love him [Poins] so, then ?
'''' Falstaff. Because their legs are both of a bigness, and he plays
at quoits well, .... and rides the wild mare with the boys.'''' —
Henry IV. pt. ii. act ii. sc. 4.
t Gotten within him — i.e., that he could not strike.
" Hold, hurt him not, for God's sake ! he is mad.
Some get within him, take his sword away."
— Comedy of Errors, v. I.
222 ARCADIA.— Book II.
Musidorus ?" " Lost,"' said Pyrocles. " Ah I my Pyrocles,"
said Philoclea, " I am glad I have taken you. I perceive
you lovers do not always say truly ; as though I knew not
your cousin Dorus the shepherd !" " Life of my desires,"
' said Pyrocles, " what is mine, even to my soul, is yours ; but
the secret of my friend is not mine. But if you know so
much, then I may truly say he is lost, since he is no more
his own. But I perceive your noble sister and you are great
friends ; and well doth it become you so to be." " But go for-
ward, dear Pyrocles ; I long to hear out till your meeting me,
for there to meward is the best part of your story." "Ah,
sweet Philoclea," said Pyrocles, " do you think I can think
so precious leisure as this well spent in talking ? Are your
eyes a fit book, think you, to read a tale upon ? Is my love
quiet enough to be an historian ? Dear princess, be gracious
unto me." And then he fain would have remembered to have
forgot himself.* But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace,
desired him that her desire, once for ever, might serve that
no spot might disgrace that love which shortly she hoped
should be to the world warrantable. Fain he would not have
heard till she threatened anger, and then the poor lover durst
not, because he durst not. " Nay, I pray thee, dear Pyrocles,"
said she, " let me have my story." " Sweet princess," said
he, " give my thoughts a little respite, and if it please you,
since this time must be so spoiled, yet it shall suffer the less
harm if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice and let me know
ihow the good queen Erona was betrayed into such danger,
'and why Plangus sought me. For indeed I should pity
greatly any mischance fallen to that princess." " I will,"
* Remembered to have forgot hiJJiself — Sidney here anticipates Dr.
Young, Night Thoughts, IV. 1. 57 —
" I've been so long remembered I'm forgot ;"
or, more closely, Dr. Wolcots George III.: "Remember to forget
to ask Mr, Wlii thread to dinner."
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 223
said Philoclea, smiling, " so you give me your word your
hands shall be quiet auditors." " They shall," said he, " be-
cause subject." Then began she to speak, but with so pretty
and delightful a majesty, when she set her countenance to
tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not choose but rebel so
far as to kiss her. She would have pulled her head away
and spake, but while she spake he kissed, and it seemed he
fed upon her words ; but she gat away. " How will you have
your discourse," said she, " without you let my lips alone ?"
He yielded, and took her hand. " On this," said he, " will I
revenge my wrong," and so began to make much of that hand.
But her tale and his delight were interrupted by Miso, who
was sent thither by Gynecia, who had been vexed by a fearful
dream of Zelmane. But Philoclea telling her she was there
by her father's desire, Miso left them. To them soon came
the great and wretched lady Gynecia, divided between those
two devils Love and Jealousy, "O jealousy," said she to herself,
" the frenzy of wise folks, the well-wishing spite, and unkind
carefulness, the self-punishment for other's fault and self-misery
in other's happiness, the cousin of envy, daughter of love, and
mother of hate, how couldest thou so quietly get thee a seat
in the unquiet heart of Gynecia ? — Gynecia," said she, sighing,
" thought wise, and once virtuous. Alas ! it is thy breeder's
power which plants thee there ; it is the flaming agony of
affection that works the chilling access of thy fever, in such
sort that nature gives place ; the growing of my daughter
seems the decay of myself, the blessings of a mother turn to
the curses of a competitor ; and the fair face of Philoclea
appears more horrible in my sight than the image of death."
Yet, for Zelmane's sake, she used no harder words to her
than to bid her go home and accompany her solitary father.
Then began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of
her deadly desires, when suddenly the confused rumour of a
X
224 ARCADIA.— Book IT,
mutinous multitude gave just occasion to Zelmane to break
off any such conference — for well she found they were not
friendly voices they heard — and to retire with as much dili-
gence as conveniently they could towards the lodge. Yet,
before they could win* the lodge by twenty paces, they were
overtaken by an unruly sort of clowns and other rebels, which,
like a violent flood, were carried they themselves knew not
whither. But, as soon as they came within perfect discerning
these ladies, like enraged beasts, without respect of their
estates, or pity of their sex, they began to run against them,
as right villains, thinking ability to do hurt to be a great
advancement ; yet so many as they were, so many almost
were their minds, all knit together only in madness. Some
cried " Take," some " Kill," some " Save." But even they
that cried " Save " ran for company with them that meant to
kill. Every one commanded, none obeyed ; he only seemed
chief captain that was most rageful.
Zelmane, whose virtuous courage was ever awake, drew
out her sword, which upon those ill-armed churls giving as
many wounds as blows, and as many deaths almost as wounds
— lightening courage and thundering smart upon them — kept
them at a bay, while the two ladies gat themselves into the
lodge, out of which Basilius, having put on an armour long
untried, came to prove his authority among his subjects, or
at least to adventure his life with his dear mistress, to whom
he brought a shield, while the ladies, trembling, attended the
issue of this dangerous adventure. But Zelmane made them
perceive the odds between an eagle and a kite, with such
nimble stayedness, and an assured nimbleness, that, while
one was running back for fear, his fellow had her sword in
his guts.
And by-and-by was both her heart and help well increased
* Win^ A. S. %vinn-an, to gain, to reach.
ARCADIA.— Book IL 225
by the coming of Dorus, who, having been making of hurdles
for his master's sheep, heard the horrible cries of this mad
multitude ; and having straight represented before the eyes
of his careful love the peril wherein the soul of his soul might
be, he went to Pamela's lodge, but found her in a cave hard
by with Mopsa and Dametas, who at that time would not
have opened the entry to his father. And therefore leaving
them there, as in a place safe, both for being strong and un-
known, he ran as the noise guided him. But when he saw
his friend in such danger among them, anger and contempt,
asking no counsel but of courage, made him run among them
with no other weapon but his sheephook, and with that over-
throwing one of the villains, took away a two-hand sword
from him, and withal helped him for ever being ashamed of
losing it. Then lifting up his brave head, and flashing terror
into their faces, he made arms and legs go complain to the 1 . ,
earth how evil their masters had kept them. Yet the multi- , A
tude still growing, and they — very killing wearying them— •
fearing lest in long fight they should be conquered by con-
quering, they drew back towards the lodge, but drew bacK in
such sort that still their terror went forward like a valiant
mastiff, whom when his master pulls back by the tail from
the bear, with whom he had already interchanged a hateful
embracement, though his pace be backward his gesture is
forward, his teeth and his eyes threatening more in the
retiring than they did in the advancing ; so guided they
themselves homeward, never stepping step backward but that
they proved themselves masters of the ground where they
stept.
But the fury of these common men was such that the
lodge afforded no security against them. For never bees
made such a confused humming: the town dwellers were
for putting down imposts, the country fellows for laying out
Q
226 ARCADIA.— Book II.
of commons ; some would have Basilius keep his court in
one place, some in another ; all cried to have new counsellors
and the treasure looked to. The peasants would have all
the gentlemen destroyed ; the citizens, especially the cooks
and barbers, and those that lived most on gentlemen, would
have them reformed. But no confusion was greater than
that of particular men's likings and dislikings, and some
went about to destroy the lodge with pickaxe and fire, when
Zelmane, used to such humours, with an angerless bravery
thus spake to them : —
"An unused thing it is, O Arcadians, and I think not
hitherto seen, that a woman should give public counsel to
men, and a stranger to the country people. But since it is
so, I would tell you that none lodge here but those whom you
have cause to love, and no cause to hate — your prince, princess,
and their children — excepting myself. Is it I, then, O Arca-
dians, against whom your anger is turned.?" And so she
:ontinued, the action that she used being beautified by nature,
tiU the sweet clearness of her voice, rising and falling as the
natV-je of the word and the efficacy of the matter imported, had
so persuaded them that some of them began to waver. Then,
thinking that in such mutinies it were well some should counter-
vail their trespass, " Loyal Arcadians," said she, " now do I
offer unto you the manifesting of your duties : all those that
have taken arms for the prince's safety, let them turn their
backs to the gate with their weapons bent again such as would
hurt his sacred person." " O weak trust of the many-headed
multitude,* whom inconstancy only.-doth guide to well-doing,
who can set confidence there where company takes away
* Many-headed multitude — Sidney here anticipates Massinger s
"many-headed monster," Roman Actor, act iii., and Sir Walter
Scott, " Lady of the Lake," can. v. st. 20 —
" Thou many-headed monster thing,
Oh, who would wish to be thy king ?"
ARCADIA.— Book IT, 227
shame, and each may lay the fault on his fellow ?" so said a
crafty fellow among them, named Clinias, to himself, when
he saw the word no sooner out of Zelmane's mouth but that
there were some shouts of joy, with " God save Basilius !"
and divers of them with much jollity grown to be his guard
that but little before meant to be his murderers.
This Clinias in his youth had been a scholar, so far as to
learn rather words than manners, and of words rather plenty
than order, and oft had used to be an actor in tragedies,
where he had learned, besides a slidingness of language,
acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to
bear the figure of them, long used to the eyes and ears of
men, and to reckon no fault but shamefastness in nature ; a
most notable coward, and yet more strangely than rarely
venturous in privy practices. This fellow was become of| i
near trust to Cecropia, Amphialus his mother, so that he wasji
privy to all the mischievous devices wherewith she wentlj
about to ruin Basilius and his children for the advancing of
her son ; and, though his education had made him full of
tongue, yet his love to be doing taught him in any evil to be^
secret, and had by his mistress been used, ever since the '
strange retiring of Basilius, to whisper rumours into the
people's ears ; and this time, finding great aptness in the
multitude, was one of the chief that set them in the uproar,
though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would
not for all the kingdoms of the world so have adventured the
life of Philoclea ; but no\y, perceiving the flood of their fury
began to ebb, he thought it policy to take the first of the
tide, so that no man cried louder than he upon Basilius.
Some of the lustiest rebels not agreeing with the rest, a
fight again was set up, the king's party driving the rest away,
and Zelmane striking a farmer dead with her sword as she
had before done with her eyes. Clinias fought on the side of
Q 2
228 . ARCADIA.— Book II.
Basilius, and he imagining him to be one of the chief that had
bred the good akeration, after giving the rebels a general
pardon, demanded of Clinias how it was that this frenzy had
entered into the minds of the people. Whereon Clinias, pur-
posing to tell the truth of all, saving what did touch himself or
Cecropia, said that it was chiefly because he (Basilius) retired
from the government and withdrew from the people. With
that the fellow did wring his hands, and wrang out tears so
that Basilius, who was not the sharpest piercer into masked
minds, took a good liking to him. But before Chnias went
away, certain of the shepherds being come — for that day was
appointed for their pastorals — Basihus sent one of them to
Philanax, and another to other principal noblemen and cities
thereabouts, to make thorough inquiry of this uproar, and
withal to place such garrisons in all the towns and villages
near unto him, that he might thereafter keep his solitar}^
lodge in more security, upon the making of a fire or ringing
of a bell, having them in a readiness for him.
This Clinias, having his ear one way when his eye was
another, had perceived, and therefore hasted away with mind
to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedy resolution,
or else it were'danger those examinations would both discover
and ruin her ; and so went his way, leaving that little com-
pany with embra'cements, and praising of Z^lmane's excellent
proceeding, to show that no decking sets forth anything so
much as affection.
But as they were in the midst of those unfeigned cere-
monies, a gittern* ill played on, accompanied with a hoarse
voice, who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be
merry in spite of fortune, made them look the way of the ill-
* Gittcni — Sometimes spelt "cittern;" an instniment similar to
a guitar, aiiuch favom-ed by the customers of barbers, while waiting
their turns, in early times. Ben Jonson, in his "Vision of Delight,"
has both forms of the word.
ARCADIA,— Book IT. 229
noised song. They had soon found it was Dametas, who
came with no less lifted up countenance than if he had passed
over the bellies of all his enemies ; so wise a point he thought
he had performed in using the natural strength of the cave.
But never was it his doing to come so soon thence till the
coast were more assuredly clear ; for it was a rule with him
that after a great storm there ever fall a few drops before it
be fully finished. But Pamela — who had now experienced
how much care doth solicit a lover's heart — used this occa-
sion of going to her parents and sister, indeed as well for that
cause as being unquiet till her eye might be assured how her
shepherd had gone through the danger. But Basilius, with
the sight of Pamela, of whom almost his head, otherwise
occupied, had left the wonted remembrance, was suddenly
stricken into a devout kind of admiration, remembering the
oracle, which, according to the fawning l^umour of false hope,
he interpreted now his own to his own bSSt;* and with the
willing blindness of affection, because his mind ran wholly
upon Zelmane, he thought the gods in their oracles did
principally mind her.
But, as he was deeply thinking of the matter, one of the
shepherds told him that Philanax was already come with an
hundred horse in his company. For having by chance rid
not far off the little desert, he had heard of this uproar, and
so was come upon the spur, gathering a company of gentle-
men as fast as he could, to the succour of his master. Basilius
was glad of it ; but, not willing to have him nor any other of the
noblemen see his mistress, he himself went out of the lodge,
and so giving order unto him of placing garrisons and exam-
ining these matters, and Philanax, with humble earnestness,
* Ozvn best — This passage is so involved that it becomes obscure. '
The meaning is easily seen. Basilius interprets the oracle according
to his sinful wishes. Perhaps for best we should read lust.
230 ARCADIA.— Book II.
beginning to intreat him to leave off this sohtary course,
which already had been so dangerous unto him, "Well,"
said Basilius, " it may be ere long I will condescend unto
your desire. In the meantime, take you the best order you
can to keep me safe in my solitariness. But," said he, " do
you remember how earnestly you wrote unto me that I should
not be moved by that oracle's authority, which brought me
to this resolution ?" " Full well, sir," answered Philanax, " for
though it pleased you not as then to let me know what the
oracle's words were — yet all oracles hold in, in my conceit, one
degree of reputation — it sufficed me to know it was but an
oracle which led you from your own course." "Well," said
Basilius, " I will now tell you the words, which before I
thought not good to do, because when all the events fall out,
as some already have done, I may charge you with your
incredulity." So he repeated them in this sort : —
" Thy elder care shall from thy careful face
By princely mean be stol'n, and yet not lost ;
Thy younger shall with nature's bliss embrace
An uncouth love, which nature hateth most ;
Both they themselves unto such two shall wed,
Who at thy bier, as at a bar, shall plead
Why thee, a living man, they had made dead.
In thine own seat a foreign state shall sit ;
And ere that all these blows thy head do hit,
Thou, with thy wife, adultery shall commit."
" For, forsooth," said he, " when I told you that some super-
natural cause sent me strange visions, which being confirmed
with presagious chances, I had gone to Delphos, and there
received this answer, you replied unto me that the only super-
natural causes were the humours of my body, which bred
such melancholy dreams, and that both they framed a mind
full of conceits, apt to make presages of things which in
ARCADIA.— Book IT. 231
themselves were merely chanceable ; and withal, as I say,
you remember what you wrote unto me touching the autho-
rity of the oracle. But now I have some notable trial of the
truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largely communicate
unto you. Only now know that the thing I most feared
is already performed ; I mean that a, foreign state should
possess my throne. For that hath been done by Zelmane,
but not as I feared to my ruin, but to my preservation." But
when he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as
a pulley to make the clock of his praises run on in such sort
that, Philanax found, was more exquisite than the only admira-
tion of virtue breedeth ; which his faithful heart inwardly
repining at made him shrink away as soon as he could to go
about the other matters of importance which Basilius had
enjoined unto him.
Basilius returned into the lodge, thus by himself construing
the oracle : that in that he said his elder care should by
princely mean be stolen away from him, and yet not lost, it
was now performed, since Zelmane had, as it were, robbed
from him the care of his first-begotten child; yet was it not
lost, since in his heart the ground of it remained. That his
younger should with nature's bliss embrace the love of Zel-
mane, because he had so commanded her for his sake to do ;
yet should it be with as much hate of nature, for being so
hateful an opposite to the jealousy he thought her mother
had of him. The sitting in his seat he deemed by her already
performed ; but that which most comforted him was his
interpretation of the adultery, which he thought he should
commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should have to his
wife. The point of his daughters' marriage, because it
threatened his death withal, he determined to prevent with
keeping them, while he lived, unmarried. But having, as
he thought, gotten thus much understanding^ of the oracle.
232 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
he determined for three days after to perform certain rites
to Apollo.
As soon as he had ended his devotion, all the privileged
shepherds being now come, knowing well enough he might
lay all his care upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten
the taste of this passed tumult with some rural pastimes ;
for which while the shepherds prepared themselves in the
best manner, Basilius took his daughter Philoclea aside, and
with such haste as if his ears hunted for words, 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 hear him whensoever he would
speak ; and further than that, she said, as Zelmane had not
granted, so she neither did nor ever would desire. Basilius
kissed her with more than fatherly thanks, and straight,
like a hard-kept ward new come to his lands, would fain
have used the benefit of that grant in laying his sick-
ness before his only physician. But Zelmane, that had not
yet fully determined with herself how to bear herself to-
ward him, made him in few words understand that the time,
in respect of the company, was unfit for such a parley ; and,
therefore, to keep his brains the busier, letting him under-
stand what she had learned of his daughters touching
Erona's distress, whom in her travel she had known and
been 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 full of care for that lady, whose
desert, only except an over-base choice, was nothing agree-
able to misfortune. Basilius, glad that she would command
him anything, but more glad that, in excusing the unfitness
of that time, she argued an intention to grant a fitter, obeyed
her in this manner —
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 233
" Madam," said he, " it is very true that, since years
enabled me to judge what is or is not to be pitied, I never
saw anything that more moved me to justify a vehement com-
passion in myself than the estate of that prince, whom, strong
against all his own afflictions, which yet were great, as I per-
ceive you have heard, yet true and noble love had so pulled
down as to lie under sorrow for another. But then, to leave
that unrepeated which I find my daughters have told you,
it may please you to understand, since it pleaseth you to
demand, 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 provinces of
Greece, making a dishonourable inquiry after that excellent
Prince Pyrocles already perished — Antiphilus, I say, being
crowned and delivered from the presence of those two, whose
virtues, while they were present, like good schoolmasters, sup-
pressed his vanities, he had not strength of mind enough
in him to make long delay of discovering what manner of
man he was. But straight, like one carried up to so high a
place that he loseth the discerning of the ground over which
he is, so was his mind hfted so far beyond the level of his
own discourse that, remembering only that himself was in the
high seat of a king, he could not perceive that he was a king of
reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorn follies and
repine at injuries. But, imagining no so true property of
sovereignty as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoever
pleased his fancy, he quickly made his kingdom a tennis-
court, where his subjects should be the balls, not, in truth,
cruelly, but licentiously abusing them, presuming so far upon
himself that what he did was liked of everybody ; nay, that
his disgraces were favours, and all because he was a king.
" Then vainness, a meagre friend to gratefulness, brought
him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no
234 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
benefit, that, within half a year's marriage, he began to pre-
tend barrenness, and, making first an unlawful law of having
mo wives than one, he, still keeping Erona under hand, by-
messages sought Artaxia, who, no less hating him than
loving (as unlucky a choice) the naughty king Plexirtus, yet,
to bring to pass what she purposed, was content to train
him into false hopes, till already 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 gotten
eyes to cherish him. Poor Erona to all this obeyed, either
vehemency of affection making her stoop to so over-base a
servitude, or, astonished with an unlooked-for fortune, dull
to any behoof-full resolution, or, as many times it falls out even
in great hearts when they can accuse none but themselves,
desperately bent to maintain it. For so went she on in that
way of her love that, poor lady, to be beyond all other ex-
amples of ill-set affection, she was brought to write to Artaxia
that she was content, for the public good, to be a second wife,
and yield the first place to her ; nay, to extol him, and even
woo Artaxia for him.
" But Artaxia, mortally hating them both for her brother's
sake, was content to hide her hate till she had time to show
it ; and, pretending that all her grudge was against the two
paragons of virtue, Musidorus and Pyrocles, even met them
half way in excusing her brother's murther, as not being prin-
cipal actors, and, of the other side, driven to what they did
by the ever-pardonable necessity, and so well handled the
matter as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus pro-
mised himself all that she would have him think. And so a
solemn interview was appointed. But, as the poets say,
Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured coat ; for Artaxia,
laying men secretly — and easily they might be secret, since
Antiphilus thought she overran him in love — when he came
ARCADIA.— Book 11. 235
even ready to embrace her, showing rather a countenance of
accepting than offering, they came forth, and, having much
advantage both in number, valour, and fore-preparation, put
all his company to the sword but such as could fly away.
As for Antiphilus, she caused him and Erona both to be put
in irons, hasting back towards her brother's tomb, upon which
she meant to sacrifice them, making the love of her brother
stand between her and all other motions of grace, from which
by nature she was alienated.
" But great diversity in them two quickly discovered itself
for the bearing of that affliction ; for Antiphilus, that had no
greatness but outward, that taken away, was ready to fall
faster than calamity could thrust him, with fruitless begging
of life, where reason might well assure him his death was
resolved, and weak bemoaning his fortune, to give his enemies
a most pleasing music, with many promises and protestations
to as little purpose, as from a little mind. But Erona, sad
indeed, yet like one rather used than new fallen to sadness,
as who had the joys of her heart already broken, seemed
rather to welcome than to shun that end of misery, speaking
little, but what she spake was for Antiphilus, remembering
his guiltiness, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates when
the valiant princes slew him ; to the disgrace of men, show-
ing that there are women both more wise to judge what is
to be expected, and more constant to bear it when it is
happened.
" But her wit, endeared by her youth, her affliction by her
birth, and her sadness by her beauty, made this noble Prince /
PlanguSjWho — never almost from his cousin Artaxia — was now
present at Erona's taking, to perceive the shape of loveliness
more perfectly in woe than in joyfulness, as in a picture which
receives greater life by the darkness of shadows than by more
glittering colours, and seeing to like, and liking to love, and,
236 ARCADIA,— Book IT.
loving straight, to feel the most incident effects of love, to
serve and preserve : so, borne by the hasty tide of short
leisure, he did hastily deliver together his affection and affec-
tionate care. But she, as if he had spoken of a small matter
when he mentioned her life, to which she had not leisure to
y attend, desired him, if he loved her, to show it in finding
"^ some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the world
but a wearisome stage unto her, where she played a part
against her will, and therefore besought him not to cast his
love in so unfruitful a place as could not love itself, but, for
a testimony of constancy and a suitableness to his word, to
do so much comfort to her mind as that for her sake Anti-
philus were saved. He told me how much he argued against
her tendering him who had so ungratefully betrayed her and
foolishly cast away himself; but, perceiving she did not only
bend her very good wits to speak for him against herself, but,
when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet love
would needs make itself a cause, and bar her rather from
hearing than yield that she should yield to such arguments,
he likewise, in whom the power of love, as they say of spirits,
was subject to the love in her, with grief consented ; and,
though backwardly, was diligent to labour the help of Anti-
-philus, a man whom he not only hated, as a traitor to Erona,
Y but envied as a possessor of Erona ; yet love sware his heart,
in spite of his heart, should make him become a servant to
his rival. And so did he, seeking all the means of persuad-
ing Artaxia which the authority of so near and so virtuous a
kinsman could give unto him. But she, to whom the eloquence
of hatred had given revenge the face of delight, rejected all
such motions, but the rather more closely imprisoning them
in her chief city, where she kept them with intention at the
birthday of Tiridates, which was very near, to execute Anti-
philus, and at the day of his death, which was about half a
ARCADIA.— Book II. 237
year after, to use the same rigour towards Erona, Plangus,
much grieved, because much loving, attempted the humours
of the Lydians, to see whether they could come in with forces
to succour their princess ; but there the next inheritor to the
crown, with the true play that is used in the game of kingdoms,
had no sooner his mistress in captivity but he had usurped
her place, and, making her odious to her people, because of
the unfit election she had made, had so left no hope there,
but, which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, persuading the jus-
ticing* her, because that unjustice might give his title the
name of justice. Wanting that way, Plangus practised with
some dear friends of his to save Antiphilus out of prison, >
whose day, because it was much nearer than Erona's, and
that he well found she had twisted her life upon the same
thread with his, he determined first to get him out of prison ;
and to that end, having prepared all matters as well as in
such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tuidates'
old servants to have well-marking eyes, he conferred with
Antiphilus, as, by the authority he had, he found means to
do, and agreed with him of the time and manner how he
should, by the death of some of his jailors, escape. But all
being well ordered, and Plangus willingly putting himself into
the greatest danger, Antiphilus — who, like a bladder, swelled
ready to break while it was full of the wind of prosperity,
that being out, was so abjected as apt to be trod on by every-
body — when it came to the point that, v/ith some hazard, he
might be in apparent likelihood to avoid the uttermost harm,
his heart fainted, and, weak fool, neither hoping nor fearing
as he should, gat a conceit that, with bewraying this practice
he might obtain pardon, and therefore, even a little before
Plangus should have come unto him, opened the whole prac-
tice to him that had the charge, with unpitied tears idly
* Justicing—i.c.^ sentence being passed upon her.
238 ARCADIA.— Book 11.
y protesting he had rather die by Artaxia's commandment
than against her will to escape ; yet begging life upon any
the hardest and wretchedest conditions that she should lay
upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so that when
Plangus came he was like himself to have been entrapped,
but that, finding, with a lucky insight, that it was discovered,
he retired, and, calling his friends about him, stood uponhis
guard, as he had good cause. For Artaxia, accounting him
most ungrateful, considering that her brother and she had
not only preserved him against the malice of his father, but
ever used him much liker his birth than his fortune, sent
forces to apprehend him ; but he among the martial men
had gotten so great love that he could not only keep himself
from her malice, but work in their minds a compassion of
Erona's adversity.
" But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get nobody to
join v.'ith him, the contempt of him having not been able to
qualify the hatred ; so that Artaxia might easily upon him
perform her will, which was, at the humble suit of all the
women of that city, to deliver him to their censure, who
mortally hated him for having made a law of polygamy, after
J many tortures, forced him to throw himself from a high
pyramis,* which was built over Tiridates' tomb, and so to
end his false-hearted life, which had planted no strong thought
in him, but that he could be unkind.
" But Plangus well perceiving that Artaxia stayed only for
^ the appointed day that the fair Erona's body, consumed to
ashes, should make a notorious testimony how deeply her
brother's death was engraven in her breast, he assembled
good numbers of friends, whom his virtue, though a stranger,
* Pyraviis — This is the old and correct form of our modern " py-
ramid." In the change it has undergone it bears considerable
affinity to the old word "magnes," now modernized into "magnet."
ARCADIA.— Book II. 239
had tied unto him, by force to give her hberty. Contrari-
wise, Artaxia, to whom anger gave more courage than her
sex did fear, used her regal authority the most she could, to
suppress that sedition, and have her will, which, she thought,
is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who,
indeed, as all men witness, is one of the best captains, both
for policy and valour, that are trained in the school of Mars,
in a conflict overthrew Artaxia's power, though of far
greater number, and there took prisoner a base son of her
brother's, whom she dearly affected, and then sent her word
that he should run the same race of fortune, whatsoever it
was, that Erona did ; and happy was that threatening for
her, for else Artaxia had hastened the day of her death in
respect of those tumults.
" But now, some principal noblemen of that country inter-
posing themselves, it was agreed that all persons else fully
pardoned, and all prisoners, except Erona, delivered, she
should be put into the hands of a principal nobleman, who
had a castle of great strength, by oath, if by the day two
year from Tiridates' death Pyrocles and Musidorus did
not in person combat and overcome two knights, whom she
appointed to maintain her quarrel against Erona and them
of having by treason destroyed her brother, that then Erona^
should be that same day burnt to ashes ; but if they came
and had the victory, she should be delivered, but upon no
occasion neither freed nor executed till that day. And hereto
of both sides all took solemn oath, and so the peace was con-
cluded ; they of Plangus' party forcing him to agree, though
he himself the sooner condescended knowing the courtesy
of those two excellent princes not to refuse so noble a quarrel,
and their power such as two more like the other two were not
able to resist. But Artaxia was more, and upon better ground,
pleased with this action ; for she had even newly received
240 ARCADIA.— Book II.
news from Plexirtus that upon the sea he had caused them
both to perish, and therefore she held herself sure of the
match.
" But poor Plangus knew not so much, and therefore, seeing
his party, as most times it falls out in like case, hungry of
any conditions of peace, accepted them ; and then obtained
leave of the lord that indifferently* kept her to visit Erona,
whom he found full of desperate sorrow, suffering neither his
[Antiphilus'] un worthiness, nor his wrongs, nor his death, w^hich
is the natural conclusion of all worldly acts, either to cover with
forgetfulness or diminish with consideration the affection
she had borne him, but even glorying in affliction, and
shunning all comfort, she seemed to have no delight but in
making herself the picture of misery. So that when Plangus
came to her she fell in deadly trances, as if in him she had
seen the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured
him ; and yet, her virtue striving, she did at one time acknow-
ledge herself bound, and profess herself injured, instead of
allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the
princes, as he wished her to do, craving nothing but some
speedy death to follow her, in spite of just hate, beloved
Antiphilus.
" So that Plangus, having nothing but a ravished kiss from
her hand at their parting, went away toward Greece, whither-
ward he understood 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 ever favoured, so much the rather as
he had performed the conditions of her marriage, in bringing
to their deserved end her greatest enemies ; withal thanking
* Indifferently —Impartially.
" Set honour in one eye and death i' the other.
And I will look on both indffefently.^'' — Jul. Csesar, i. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book II. 241
the sea, in such terms as he might well perceive it was by-
some treason wrought in Plexirtus' ship. Whereupon, to
make more diligent search, he took ship himself, and came
into Laconia, inquiring, and by his inquiry finding that such
a ship was indeed with light 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 else have been a
large witness to the contrary. Full of grief with that, for the
loss of such who left the world poor of perfection, but more
sorry for Erona's sake, who now by them could not be
relieved, a new advertisement from Armenia overtook him
which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message
from the nobleman who had Erona in ward, giving him to
understand that since his departure Artaxia, using the
benefit of time, had besieged him in his castle, demanding
present delivery of her, whom yet for his faith given he
would not before the day appointed, if possibly he could
resist, which, he foresaw, long he should not do for want of
victual, which he had not so wisely provided, because he
trusted upon the general oath taken for two years' space, and
therefore willed him to make haste to his succour, and come
with no small forces, for all they that were of his side in
Armenia were consumed, and Artaxia had increased her
might by marriage of Plexirtus, who, now crowned king
there, sticked not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and
Musidorus, as having just cause thereto, in respect of the
deaths of his sister Andromana, her son, his nephew, and his
own daughter Zelmane, all whose loss he unjustly charged
them withal, and now openly sticked not to confess what a
revenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus, much astonished
herewith, bethought himself what to do ; for to return to
Armenia was vain, since his friends" there were utterly over-
R
242 ARCADIA.— Book IT.
thrown. Then thought he of going to his father, but he had
already, even since the death of his stepmother and brother,
attempted the recovering of his favour, and all in vain. For
they that had before joined 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, reserving that for a work of
longer time than the saving of Erona could bear, determined
to go to the mighty and good king Euarchus, who lately
having, to his eternal fame, fully not only conquered his
enemies, but established good government in their countries,
/he hoped he might have present succour of him, both for the
justness of the cause, and revenge of his children's death, by
so heinous a treason murdered. Therefore with diligence he
went to him, and by the way, passing through my country, it
was my hap to find him, the most overthrown man with grief
that ever I hope to see again.
" And thus, excellent lady, I have obeyed you in this story,
wherein if it well please you to consider what is the strange
power of love, and what is due to his authority, you shall
exercise therein the true nobleness of your judgment, and do
the more right to the unfortunate historian." Zelmane, sighing
for Erona's sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured
herself Euarchus would not spare to take in hand the just
delivering of her, joined with the just revenge of his children's
loss, having now what she desired of Basilius, to avoid his
further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepherds to
begin, whom she saw already ready for them.*
The End of the Second Book.
* The Editor has omitted the " Second Eclogue " for the reasons
given in the note to Eclogue I. There is nothing to be regretted
ARCADIA.— Book II. 243
le remarkable in it, save a skirmish between seven "Rea-
' and seven "Appassionated" shepherds. Of course, in this
I'aon — it cannot be called dialogue — "the Reasonable shep-
'c*t the better of the "rebels vile" who represent Passion, and
::two square battles meet," and, instead of fighting, embrace
';her, singing thus : —
/^. We are too strong ; but Reason seeks no blood.
ff. Who to be weak do feign they be too good.
A'. Though we cannot o'ercome, our cause is just.
y. Let us o'ercome and let us be unjust.
/■?. Yet Passions yield at length to Reason's stroke.
P. What shall we win by taking Reason's yoke ?
A*. The joys you have shall be made permanent.
/*. But so we shall with grief learn to repent.
R. Repent indeed, but that shall be your bliss.
, •. How know we that, since present joys we miss ?
/>'. You know it not ; of Reason, therefore, know it.
/'. No Reason yet had ever skill to show it.
(\. Then let us both to heavenly rules give place —
j^'\ Which Passions kill and Reason do deface."
ere is also a double sestine, unrhymed, which contains poetic
diction, but is truly a sad and useless interruption to Sidney's loo
much interrupted prose poem.
R 2
The Third Book.
HIS last day's danger, having made PaiuOia : Ij '^
discern what a loss it should have ~\if?ciov.* •"
Dorus had been destroyed, bred such ler:
of kindness in her toward him that she .
longer keep love from looking out through iter
eyes, and going forth in her words, whom before ?3/a dose
prisoner she had to her heart only committed ; so as ^mding
not only by his speeches and letters, but by the p.T. : ion
of languishing behaviour, and the easily deciphered dx... .
of a sorrowful face, that despair began now to threaten him
destruction, she grew content both to pity him and let him
see she pitied him, as well by making her own beautiful beams
to thaw away the former iciness of her behaviour, as by
entertaining his discourses, whensoever he did use them, in
the third person of Musidorus, to so far a degree that in the
end she said that, if she had been the princess whom that dis-
guised prince had virtuously loved, she would have requited
his faith with faithful affection ; finding in her heart that
nothing could so heartily love as virtue, with many mo words
to the same sense of noble favour and chaste plainness.
Which when at the first it made that unexpected bliss shine
upon Dorus, he was like one frozen with extremity of cold
overhastily brought to a great fire ; rather oppressed than
reheved with such a lightening of felicity.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 245
But after the strength of nature had made him able to feel
the sweetness of joyfulness, that again being a child of pas-
sion, and never acquainted with mediocrity,^ could not set ;(>,
bounds upon his happiness, nor be content to give desire a
kingdom, but that it must be an unlimited monarchy: so
that the ground he stood upon being over-high in happiness
and slippery through affection, he could not hold himself
from falling into such an error, which with sighs blew all
comfort out of his breast, and washed away all cheerfulness
of his desire, and Desire considering nothing but oppor-
tunity, one time, Mopsa being called away by her mother,
and he left alone with Pamela, the sudden occasion called
Love, and that never stayed to ask Reason's leave, but made
the too-much loving Dorus take her in his arms, offering to
kiss her, and as it were to establish a trophy of his victory.
But she, as if she had been ready to drink a wine of excellent
taste and colour, which suddenly she perceived had poison in
it, so did she put him away from her ; looking first up to
heaven, as amazed to find herself so beguiled in him, then
laying cruel punishment upon him of angry love, and lowering
beauty, showing disdain, and a despising disdain, " Away !"
said she, " unworthy man to love or to be loved. Assure thy-
self, I hate myself for being so deceived ; judge then what I do
thee for deceiving me. Let me see thee no more, the only
fall of my judgment and stain of my conscience." With that
she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer, which was no
other but a flood of tears, which she seemed not to mark,
much less to pity, and chid her for having so left her alone.
It was not a sorrow, but it was even a death, which then
laid hold of Dorus ; which certainly at that instant would
have killed him, but that the fear to tarry longer in her pre-
sence, contrary to her commandment, gave him life to carry
himself away from her sight, and to run into the woods, where,
246 ARCADIA.— Book III.
throwing himself down at the foot of a tree, he did not fall
into lamentation, for that proceeded of pitying, or grieving
for himself, which he did no way, but to curses of his life, as
one that detested himself. For, finding himself not only un-
happy, but unhappy after being fallen from all happiness, and
to be fallen from all happiness, not by any misconceiving,
but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but
to Pamela, he did not tender his own estate, but despised it,
greedily drawing into his mind all conceits which might more
and more torment him. And so remained he two days in the
woods, disdaining to give his body food or his mind comfort,
loving in himself nothing but the love of her.
And indeed that love only strave with the fury of his
anguish, telling it that if it destroyed Dorus it should also
destroy the image of her that lived in Dorus ; and when the
thought of that was crept in unto him, it began to win of him
some compassion to the shrine of that image, and to bewail
not for himself, whom he hated, but that so notable a love
should perish. Then began he only so far to wish his own
good as that Pamela might pardon him the fault, though not
the punishment ; and the uttermost height he aspired unto
was, that after his death she might yet pity his error, and
know that it proceeded of love, and not of boldness. That
conceit found such friendship in his thoughts that at last he
yielded, since he was banished her presence, to seek some
means by writing to show his sorrow and testify his repentance.
Therefore, getting him his pen, he thought fit to counterfeit
his hand, lest she should cast his letter away as soon as she
saw it, and writing an elegiac, marring much with mending,
he made an end of it, and one day, when all were gone to
dinner, he stale up into Pamela's chamber and placed the
letter in her standish, which he first kissed, and craved of it
a friendly keeping.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 247
Which letter when Pamela found, what it would have wrought
in her she herself could not tell ; for, before her reason could
moderate the disputation between favour and faultiness, her
sister and Miso called her down to entertain Zelmane, who was
come to visit the two sisters, about whom, as about two poles,
the sky of beauty was turned ; while Gynecia wearied her bed
with her melancholy sickness, and made Miso's shrewdness —
who, like a Spirit set to keep a treasure, barred Zelmane from
any further conference — to be the Heutenant of her jealousy,
both she and her husband driving Zelmane to such a strait
of resolution, either of impossible granting or dangerous refus-
ing, as the best escape she had was, as much as she could, to
avoid their company. So as, this day being the fourth day
after the uproar, Basilius being with his sick wife, conferring
upon such examinations as Philanax and other of his noble-,
men had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia
with vehement suspicion of giving either flame or fuel unto it,
Zelmane came with her body to find her mind, which was
gone long before her and had gotten his seat in Philoclea,
who now, with a bashful cheerfulness, as though she were
ashamed that she could not choose but be glad, joined with
her sister in making much of Zelmane.
And so, as they sate devising how to give more feathers to
the wings of Time,* there came to the lodge-door six maids, all
in one livery of scarlet petticoats, which were tucked up almost
to their knees, the petticoats themselves being in many places
garnished with leaves, their legs naked, saving that above the
ankles they had little black silk laces, upon which did hang a
few silver bells, like which they had a little above their elbows
upon their bare arms. Upon their hair they ware garlands
* More feathers, &^c. —
" And then, with chaste discourse, as we return' d,
Imp feathers to the broken wings of Time."
— Massinger, Great Duke of Florence, i. i.
248 ARCADIA.— Book III.
of roses and gilliflowers, and the hair was so dressed as that
came again above the garlands, interchanging a mutual
covering ; so as it was doubtful whether the hair dressed the
garlands or the garlands dressed the hair. Their breasts
liberal to the eye, the face of the foremost of them in excel-
lency fair, and of the rest lovely, if not beautiful ; and beau-
tiful might have been, if they had not suffered greedy Phoebus,
over-often and hard, to kiss them. Their countenances full
of a graceful gravity, so as, the gesture matched with the
apparel, it might seem a wanton modesty* — an enticing sober-
ness. Each of them had an instrument of music in their
hands, which, consorting their well-pleasing tunes, did charge
each ear with unsensibleness that did not lend itself unto
them. The music entering alone into the lodge, the ladies
were all desirous to see from whence so pleasant a guest was
come, and therefore went out together, where, before they
could take the pains to doubt, much less to ask the question
of their quality, the fairest of them, with a gay but yet dis-
creet demeanour, in this sort spake to them —
" Most excellent ladies, whose excellencies have power to
make cities envy these woods, and solitariness to be accounted
the sweetest company, vouchsafe our message your gracious
hearing, which, as it comes from love, so comes it from lovely
persons. The maids of all this coast of Arcadia, understand-
ing the often access that certain shepherds of these quarters
are allowed to have in this forbidden place, and that their
rural sports are not disdained of you, have been stirred up
with emulation to them and affection to you to bring forth
* lVant07i modesty —
" Robes loosely flowing, hair as free,
Such stveet neglect more taketh me
Than all th' adulteries of art,
That strike mine eyes, but not my heart."
— Ben Jonson, The Silent Woman,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 249
something which might as well breed your contentment ;
therefore, hoping that the goodness of their intention and the
hurtlessness of their sex shall excuse the breach of the com-
mandment in coming to this place unsent for, they chose out
us to invite both your princely parents and yourselves to a
place in the woods, about half a mile hence, where they have
provided some such sports as they trust your gracious
acceptations will interpret to be delightful. We have been at
the other lodge ; but, finding them there busied in weigh-
tier affairs, our trust is that you will not deny the shining
of your eyes upon us."
The ladies stood in some doubt whether they should go
or not, lest Basilius might be angry withal. But Miso, that
had been at none of the pastorals, and had a great desire to
lead her old senses abroad to some pleasure, told them
plainly they should nor will nor choose, but go thither and
make the honest country people know that they were not so>^
squeamish as folks thought of them. The ladies, glad to
be warranted by her authority, with a smiling humbleness
obeyed her, Pamela only casting a seeking look whether she
could see Dorus, who, poor wretch, wandered half mad for
sorrow in the woods, crying for pardon of her who could not
hear him, but indeed was grieved for his absence, having "^
given the wound to him through her own heart. But so the
three ladies and Miso went with those six nymphs, conquer-
ing the length of the way with the force of music, leaving ^
only Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her coun-
tenance, because her mother would not suffer her to show her
new-scoured face among them ; but the place appointed, as
they thought, met them half in their way, so well were _
they pleased with the sweet tunes and pretty conversation of
their inviters. There found they, in the midst of the thickest
part of the wood, a little square place, not burthened with
250 ARCADIA.— Book III.
trees, but with a board covered and beautified with the plea-
santest fruits that sunburned Autumn could dehver to them.
The maids besought the ladies to sit down and taste of the
swelling grapes, which seemed great with child with Bacchus,
and of the diverse coloured plums, which gave the eye a
pleasant taste before they came to the mouth. The ladies
would not show to scorn their provision, but ate and drank a
little of their cool wine, which seemed to laugh for joy to come
to such Hps.
But after the collation was ended, and that they looked
for the coming forth of such devices as were prepared for
them, there rushed out of the woods twenty armed men, who
round about environed them, and, laying hold on Zelmane
before she could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put
hoods over the heads of all four, and, so muffled, by force set
them on horseback and carried them away, the sisters in
vain crying for succour, while Zelmane's heart was rent in
pieces with rage of the injury and disdain of her fortune.
But when they had carried them four or five mile further,
they left Miso with a gag in her mouth, and bound hand and
foot, so to take her fortune, and brought the three ladies
(by that time the night seemed with her silence to conspire
to their treason) to a castle about ten mile from the lodges,
where they were fain to take a boat which waited for them ;
for the castle stood in the midst of a great lake upon a high
rock, where, partly by art, but principally by nature, it was
by all men esteemed impregnable. But at the castle gate
jtheir faces were discovered, and there were met with a great
tiumber of torches,* after whom the sisters knew their aunt-in-
^aw, Cecropia. But that sight increased the deadly terror of
the princesses, looking for nothing but death, since they were
in the power of the wicked Cecropia, who yet came unto
* Torches — Here put for torch-bearers.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 251
them, making courtesy the outside of mischief, and desiring
them not to be discomforted ; for they were in a place dedi-
cated to their service. Philoclea, with a look where love
shined through the mist of fear, besought her to be good
unto them, having never deserved evil of her. But Pamela's
high heart disdaining humbleness to injury, " Aunt," said she,
" what you have determined of us I pray you do it speedily :
for my part, I look for no service where I find violence."
But Cecropia, using no more words with them, conveyed
them all three to several [separate] lodgings, Zelmane's heart so
swelling with spite that she could not bring forth a word, and
so left them, first taking from them their knives, because they
should do themselves no hurt before she had determined of
them, and then, giving such order that they wanted nothing
but liberty and comfort, she went to her son, who yet kept his
bed because of his wound he had received of Zelmane, and
told him whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was
but even then returned from far countries, where he had won
immortal fame both of courage and courtesy, when he met
with the princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so as he was
utterly ignorant of all his mother's wicked devices, to which
he would never have consented, being — like a rose out of a
briar — an excellent son of an evil mother ; and now, when
he heard of this, was as much amazed as if he had seen the
sun fall to the earth, and therefore desired his mother that
she would tell him how all these matters had happened.
" Son," said she, " I will do it wilhngly, and, since all is
done for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoever
I might be ashamed to tell it strangers, who would think it
wickedness, yet what is done for your sake, how evil soever
to others, to you is virtue. To begin, then, even with the
beginning, this doting fool Basilius that now reigns, having
lived unmarried till he was nigh threescore years old, and in
252 ARCADIA.— Book III.
all his speeches affirming, and in all his doings assuring, that
he never would marry, made all the eyes of this country to
be bent upon your father, his only brother, but younger by
thirty years, as upon the undoubted successor, being indeed
a man worthy to reign, thinking nothing enough for himself;
where this goose,* you see, puts down his head before there
be anything near to touch him. So that he holding place
and estimation as heir of Arcadia, obtaining me of my father
the king of Argos, his brother helping to the conclusion with
protesting his bachelry intention ;t for else you may be sure
the king of Argos, nor his daughter, would have suffered
their royal blood to be stained with the base name of a sub-
jection. So that I came into this country as apparent prin-
cess thereof, and accordingly was courted and followed of
the ladies of this country. My port and pomp did well
become a king of Argos' daughter ; in my presence their
tongues were turned into ears, and their ears were captives
unto my tongue ; their eyes admired my majesty, and happy
was he or she on whom I would suffer the beams thereof to
fall. Did I go to church, it seemed the very gods waited
for me, their devotions not being solemnised till I was ready.
Did I walk abroad to see my delight — nay, my walking
was the delight itself, for to it was the concourse, one thrust-
ing upon another who might show himself most diligent and
serviceable towards me ; my sleeps were inquired after, and
my wakings never unsaluted ; the very gate of my house full
* This goose— ^\i?A. is, Basilius. " Where," in this place, is used
in the sense of " whereas."
t Bachelry intention — His determination to a single life. " Bache-
lor," originally a military term, has somehow been detailed to signify
a single man. Ben Jonson applies it to an mamarried woman.
Bachehy is therefore the state of single life.
" Phebus that was flour oi bachelerie
As well in fredoni as in chivalrie."
— Chaucer, Man. Tale, v. 17,074.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 253
of principal persons, who were glad if their presents had
received a grateful acceptation. And in this felicity wert thou
born, the very earth submitting itself unto thee to be trodden V
as by his prince ; and to that pass had my husband's virtue,
by my good help, within short time brought it, with a plot
we laid, as we should not have needed to have waited the
tedious work of a natural end of Basilius, when the heavens,
I think envying my great felicity, then stopped thy father's
breath, when he breathed nothing but power and sovereignty.
Yet did not thy orphancy, or my widowhood, deprive us of the
delightful prospect which the hill of honour doth yield, while
expectation of thy succession did bind dependencies unto us.
" But before, my son, thou wert come to the age to feel the
sweetness of authority, this beast, whom I can never name
with patience, falsely and foolishly married this Gynecia,
then a young girl, and brought her to sit above me in all
feasts, to turn her shoulder to mevvard in all our solemnities.
It is certain it is not so great a spite to be surmounted by ■^
strangers as by one's own allies. Think, then, what my mind
was, since withal there is no question the fall is greater from
the first to the second than from the second to the under-
most. The rage did swell in my heart, so much the more as
it was fain to be suppressed in silence, and disguised with
humbleness. But, above all the rest, the grief of griefs was,
when with these two daughters, now thy prisoners, she cut
off all hope of thy succession. It was a tedious thing to me
that my eyes should look lower than anybody's, that, myself
being by, another's voice than mine should be more re-
spected ; but it was insupportable unto me to think that
not only I, but thou, shouldst spend all thy time in such
misery, and that the sun should see my eldest son less than a
prince. And though I had been a saint I could not choose,
finding the change this change of fortune bred unto me, for
254 ARCADIA.— Book III.
now from the multitude of followers silence grew to be at my
gate, and absence in my presence. The guess of my mind
could prevail more before than now many of my earnest re-
quests ; and thou, my dear son, by the fickle multitude no
more than an ordinary person, born of the mud of the people,
regarded.
"But I, remembering that in all miseries weeping becomes
fools and practice* wise folks, have tried divers means to pull
us out of the mire of subjection. And, though many times
fortune failed me, yet did I never fail myself. Wild beasts I
kept in a cave hard by the lodges, which I caused by night
to be fed in the place of their pastorals, I as then living in my
house hard by the place ; and against the hour they were to
meet, having kept the beasts without meat, then let them
loose, knowing that they would seek their food there, and
devour what they found. But blind Fortune, hating sharp-
sighted inventions, made them unluckily to be killed. After
I used my servant CHnias to stir a notable tumult of country
people ; but those louts were too gross instruments for delicate
conceits. Now, lastly, finding Philanax his examinations
grow dangerous, I thought to play double or quit, and with a
sleight I used of my fine-wicted wench Artesia, with other
maids of mine, would have sent these goodly inheritrixes of
Arcadia to have pleaded their cause before Pluto, but that
over-fortunately for them you made me know the last day
how vehemently this childish passion of love doth torment
you. Therefore I have brought them unto you, yet wishing
rather hate than love in you. For hate often begetteth vic-
tory ; love commonly is the instrument of subjection. It is
true that I would also by the same practice have entrapped
* /'r^r^/Ve' here signifies "artifice," "stratagem." " Had gotten
great estimation among the rude people, as one that was ever a
/rar/AT^r of new devises. " — Goldinge, Caesar, fo. 260.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 255
the parents, but my maids failed of it, not daring to tarry long
about it. But this sufficeth, since, these being taken away,
you are the undoubted inheritor, and Basihus will not long
overlive this loss." ..-_
" Oh, mother," said Amphialus, " speak not of doing them
hurt, no more than to mine eyes or my heart, or if I have
anything more dear than eyes or heart unto me. Let others
find what sweetness they will in ever fearing, because they
ever are feared ; for my part, I will think myself highly en-
titled if I may be once by Philoclea accepted for a servant." ^
"Well," said Cecropia, "I would I had borne you of my I
mind as well as of my body; then should you not havej
sunk under these base weaknesses. But since you have tied!
your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happy my pohcy hath
brought matters to such a pass as you may both enjoy affec-
tion and upon that build your sovereignty." " Alas," said
Amphialus, " my heart would fain yield you thanks for setting
me in the way of felicity, but that fear kills them in me before
they are fully born. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can
I be pleased? If she count it unkindness, shall I give tokens
of kindness? Perchance she condemns me of this action,
and shall I triumph ? Perchance she drowns now the beauties
I love with sorrowful tears, and where is then my rejoicing ?"
" You have reason," said Cecropia, with a feigned gravity; " I
will therefore send her away presently, that her contentment
may be recovered." " No, good mother," said Amphialus,
" since she is here, I would not for my life constrain presence,
but rather would I die than consent to absence." " Pretty
intricate follies," said Cecropia; " but get you up, and see
how you can prevail with her, while I go to the other sister ;
for after we shall have our hands full to defend ourselves, if
Basilius hap to besiege us." But, remembering herself, she
turned back and asked him what he would have done with
256 ARCADIA.— Book III.
Zelmane, since now he might be revenged of his hurt.
"Nothing but honourably," answered Amphialus, " having
deserved no other of me, especially being, as I hear, greatly
cherished of Philoclea, and therefore I could wish they
were lodged together." " Oh, no," said Cecropia, " company
confirms resolutions, and loneliness breeds a weariness of
one's thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable
proffers."
/ But Amphialus, taking of his mother Philoclea's knives,
which he kept as a relic since she had worn them, gat up,
and calling for his richest apparel, nothing seemed sumptuous
enough for his mistress's eyes, and that which was costly he
feared was not dainty, and, though the invention were deh-
cate, he misdoubted the making. And in that sort he went
, to Philoclea's chamber, whom he found — because her cham-
j ber was over-lightsome— sitting of that side of her bed which
was from the window, which did cast such a shadow upon
her as a good painter would bestow upon Venus, when, under
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 bed's head, and over her head a scarf, which
did eclipse almost half her eyes, which under it fixed their
beams upon the wall by with so steady a manner as if in that
place they might well change, but not mend their object ;
and so remained they a good while after his coming in, he
not daring to trouble her, nor she perceiving him, till that, a
little varying her thoughts something quickening her senses,
she heard him as he happened to stir his upper garment, and,
perceiving him, rose up with a demeanour where in the book
of beauty there was nothing to be read but sorrow, for kind-
ness was blotted out, and anger was never there.
"^ ■ But Amphialus, that had intrusted his memory with long
and forcible speeches, found it so locked up in amazement
ARCADIA.— Book III. 257
that he could pick nothing out of it but the beseeching her to
take what was done in good part, and to assure herself there
was nothing but honour meant unto her person. But she,
making no other answer, but letting her hands fall one from
the other, which before were joined, with eyes something
cast aside, and a silent sigh, gave him to understand that,
considering his doings, she thought his speech as full of in-
congruity as her answer would be void of purpose ; where-
upon, he kneeling down and kissing her hand, which she
suffered with a countenance witnessing captivity, but not
kindness, he besought her to have pity of him, whose love
went beyond the bounds of conceit, much more of uttering,
that in her hands the balance of his life or death did stand,
whereto the least motion of hers would serve to determine,
she being indeed the mistress of his life, and he her eternal
slave, and with true vehemency besought her that he might
hear her speak, whereupon she suffered her sweet breath to
turn itself into these kind of words : — .
" Alas, cousin," said she, " what shall my tongue be able /
to do, which is informed by the ears one way, and by the^
eyes another ? You call for pity, and use cruelty ; you say
you love me, and yet do the effects of enmity ; you affirm
your death is in my hands, but you have brought me to so
near a degree of death as, when you will, you may lay death
upon me ; so that while you say I am mistress of your life, I
am not mistress of mine own. You entitle yourself my slave,
but I am sure I am yours. If, then, violence, injury, terror,
and depriving of that which is more dear than life itself —
liberty — be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I
will be easily persuaded. But if the nearness of our kindred
breed any remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you
which you call love toward me, then let not my fortune be
disgraced with the name of imprisonment ; let not my heart
S
258 ARCADIA.— Book III.
waste itself by being vexed with feeling evil and fearing
worse. Let not me be a cause of my parents' woeful de-
struction, but restore me to myself, and, so doing, I shall
account I have received myself of you. And what I say for
myself, I say for my dear sister and my friend Zelmane ; for
I desire no well-being without they may be partakers." With
that her tears rained down from her heavenly eyes, and
seemed to water the sweet and beautiful flowers of her face.
But Amphialus was like the poor woman who, loving a
tame doe she had above all earthly things, having long played
withal and made it feed at her hand and lap, is constrained
at length by famine, all her flock being spent, and she fallen
into extreme poverty, to kill the deer to sustain her life.
Many a pitiful look doth she cast upon it, and many a time
doth she draw back her hand before she can give the stroke.
For even so Amphialus, by a hunger-starved aftection, was
compelled to offer this injury, and yet the same affection
made him, with a tormenting grief, think unkindness in him-
self that he could find in his heart any way to restrain her
freedom. But at length, neither able to grant nor deny, he
thus answered her : —
"Dear lady," said he, " I will not say unto you, how justly
spever I may do it, that I am neither author nor accessory
ilnto this your withholding ; for, since I do not redress it, I
sy'am as faulty as if I had begun it. But this I protest unto
you — and this protestation of mine let the heavens hear, and
if I lie let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt — that in
my soul I wish I had never seen the light, or rather that I
had never had a father to beget such a child, than that by my
means those eyes should overflow their own beauties, than
by my means the sky of your virtue should be overclouded
with sorrow. But woe is me, most excellent lady! I find
myself most willing to obey you, neither truly do mine ears
ARCADIA.— Book III. 259
receive the least word you speak with any less reverence than
as absolute and unresistible commandments ; but, alas, that
tyrant Love, which now possesseth the hold of all my life and^
reason, will no way suffer it. It is Love, it is Love, not I, / Q^
which disobey you ! What then shall I say, but that I, who '^e /,
am ready to lie under your feet, to venture, nay, to lose my / ",
life at your least commandment, I am not the stay of your *V
freedom, but Love, Love, which ties you in your own knots !>^ ^
It is you yourself that imprison yourself; it is your beauty ^
which makes these castle walls embrace you ; it is your own ^'^/^ ,
eyes which reflect upon themselves this injury. Then is
there no other remedy, but that you some way vouchsafe to
satisfy this love's vehemency, which since it grew in yourself,
without question you shall find it, far more than I, tractable."
But with these words Philoclea fell to so extreme a quaking,
and her lively whiteness did degenerate to such a deadly
paleness, that Amphialus feared some dangerous trance ; so
that, taking her hand, and feeling that it — which was wont to
be one of the chief firebrands of Cupid — had all the sense of
it wrapt up in coldness, he began humbly to beseech her to
put away all fear, and to assure herself upon the vow he
made thereof unto God and herself that the uttermost forces
he would ever employ to conquer her affection should be
desire and desert. That promise brought Philoclea again
to herself, so that, slowly lifting up her eyes upon him, with
a countenance ever courteous, but then languishing, she told
him that he should do well to do so, if, indeed, he had ever
tasted what true love was ; for that where now she did bear
him good-will, she should, if he took any other way, hate and
abhor the very thought of him, assuring him withal that,
though his mother had taken away her knives, yet the house
of death had so many doors as she would easily fly into it if
ever she found her honour endangered.
S 2
26o ARCADIA. -Book III.
Ampliialus, having the cold ashes of care cast upon the
coals of desire, leaving some of his mother's gentlewomen
to wait upon Philoclea,- himself, indeed, a prisoner to his
prisoner, and making all his authority to be but a footstool
to humbleness, went from her to his mother, to whom, with
words which affection indited, but amazement uttered, he
delivered what had passed between him and Philoclea, be-
seeching her to try what her persuasions could do with her,
while he gave order for all such things as were necessary
against such forces as he looked daily Basilius would bring
before his castle. His mother bade him quiet himself, for
she doubted not to take fit times ; but that the best way was
first to let her own passion a little tire itself.
So they calling Clinias, and some other of their counsel,
advised upon their present affairs. First, he despatched
private letters to all those principal lords and gentlemen of
the country whom he thought either alliance or friendship to
himself might draw, with special motions from the general
consideration of duty, not omitting all such whom either
youthful age or youthlike minds did fill with unlimited de-
sires, besides such whom any discontentment made hungry
of change, or an over-spended want made want a civil war,
to each, according to the counsel of his mother, conforming
himself after their humours. To his friends, friendliness ; to
the ambitious, great expectations ; to the displeased, re-
venge ; to the greedy, spoil ; wrapping their hopes with such
cunning as they rather seemed given over unto them as
partakers than promises sprung of necessity. Then sent he
to his mother's brother the king of Argos, but he was then so
over-laid with war himself as from thence he could attend
small succour.
But, because he knew how violently rumours do blow the
sails of popular judgments, and how few there be that can
ARCADIA.— Book III. 261
discern between truth and truth-likeness, between shows and
substance, he caused a justification of this his action to be
written, whereof were sowed abroad many copies, which, with
some glosses of probabihty, might indeed hide the foulness
of his treason, and from true common-places fetch down
most false apphcations. For, beginning how much the duty
which is owed to the country goes beyond all other duties,
since in itself it contains them all, and that for the respect ;
thereof not only all tender respects of kindred, or whatsoever '
other friendships, are to be laid aside, but that even long-held
opinions — rather builded upon a secret of government than any
ground of truth — are to be forsaken, he fell by degrees to
show, that since the end whereto anything is directed is ever
to be of more noble reckoning than the thing thereto directed,
that therefore the weal public was more to be regarded than
any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordained. The
feeling consideration whereof had moved him, though as
near of kin to Basilius as could be, yet to set principally
before his eyes the good estate of so many thousands, over
whom Basilius reigned, rather than so to hoodwink himself
with affection as to suffer the realm to run to manifest ruin.
The care whereof did kindly* appertain to those who, being
subaltern magistrates and officers of the crown, were to be
employed as from the prince so for the people, and of all
other, especially himself, who being descended of the royal
race, and next heir male, nature had no sooner opened his
eyes, but that the soil whereupon they did look was to look
for at his hands a continual carefulness, which as from his
childhood he had ever carried, so now finding that his uncle
* Kindly — Naturally, as in the Prayer-book, " the kindly fruits of
the earth" — that is, its natural and ordinary productions.
" All were his earthly eien both blunt and bad,
And through great age had lost their kindly sight."
— Spenser, Faerie Queene, I. x. 47.
262 ARCADIA.— Book III.
had not only given over all care of government, but had put
it into the hands of Philanax, a man neither in birth compar-
able to many, nor for his corrupt, proud, and partial dealing
liked of any, but, beside, had set his daughters, in whom the
whole estate, as next heirs thereunto, had no less interest
than himself, in so unfit and ill-guarded a place as it were
not only dangerous for their persons, but, if they should be
conveyed to any foreign country, to the whole commonwealth
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 served and honoured as belonged
to their greatness, until, by the general assembly of the estates,
it should be determined how they should to their best both
private and public advantage be matched, vowing all faith
and duty both to the father and children never by him to be
violated. But if in the meantime, before the estates could be
assembled, he should be assailed, he would then for his own
defence take arms ; desiring all that either tendered the
dangerous case of their country or in their hearts loved
justice to defend him in this just action. And if the prince
should command them otherwise, yet to know that therein
he was no more to be obeyed than if he should call for
poison to hurt himself withal, since all that was done was
done for his service, howsoever he might — seduced by Phi-
lanax — interpret of it ; he protesting that whatsoever he should
/do for his own defence should be against Philanax, and no
way against Basilius.
To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, and
painted with rhetorical colours, did he sow abroad many
discourses, which as they prevailed with some of more quick
than sound conceit to run his fortune with him, so in many
did it breed a coolness to deal violently against him, and a
<t V-- ^
^3' 5^^
ARCADIA.— Book III. -^-^ o^^ 263
false-minded neutrality to expect the issue. But, besides the
ways he used to weaken the adverse party, he omitted nothing
for the strengthening of his own ; the chief trust whereof,
because he wanted men to keep the field, he reposed in the
surety of his castle, which at least would win him much time,
the mother of many mutations. To that, therefore, he bent
both his outward and inward eyes, striving to make art strive
with nature, to whether of them two that fortification should
be most beholding. The seat nature bestowed, but art gave
the building, which as his rocky hardness would not yield to
undermining force, so to open assaults he took counsel of
skill how to make all approaches, if not impossible, yet diffi-
cult, as well at the foot of the castle as round about the lake,
to give unquiet lodgings to them whom only enmity would
make neighbours. Then omitted he nothing of defence, as
well simple defence as that which did defend by offending,
fitting instruments of mischief to places whence the mischief
might be most liberally bestowed. Neither was his smallest
care for victuals, as well for the providing that which should
suffice, both in store and goodness, as in well preserving it,
and wary distributing it, both in quantity and quality, spend-
ing that first which would keep least.
Even of vices he made his profit ; making the cowardly
Clinias to have care of the watch, which he knew his own
fear would make him very wakefully perform. In the midst
of danger he did exercise his men daily in all their charges,
his hand and body disdaining no base matters nor shrinking
from the heavy ; the only odds was that, when others took
breath, he sighed, and, when others rested, he crossed his
arms. For love, passing through the pikes of danger, and
tumbling itself in the dust of labour, yet made him still
remember his sweet desire and beautiful image.
Cecropia, stirred with no other pity but for her son, did
264 ARCADIA.— Book IIL
meanwhile, haling* kindness into her countenance, visit Philo-
clea, and, finding tears hang upon her cheeks and lips as
upon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth, " What
ails this sweet lady?" said she. "Will you mar so good
eyes with weeping ? will you not have contentment ?" " I
know not," answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing lest silence
would offend for sullenness, " what contentment you speak
of, but I am sure the best you can make of it, which is mar-
riage, is a burdenous yoke." "Ah, dear niece," said Cecropia,
" how much you are deceived ! A yoke, indeed, we all bear,
laid upon us in our creation, which by marriage is not in-
creased, but thus far eased — that you have a yoke-fellow to
help to draw through the cloddy combers of this world. Oh,
widow-nights, bear witness with me of the difference. How
often, alas ! do I embrace the orphan-side of my bed, which
was wont to be imprinted by the body of my dear husband,
and with tears acknowledge that I now enjoy such a liberty
as the banished man hath, who may, if he list, wander over
the world, but is for ever restrained from his most delightful
home ; that I have now such a liberty as the seeledf dove
hath, which, being first deprived of eyes, is then by the
falconer cast off ! For, believe me, niece, believe me, man's
experience is woman's best eyesight. Have you ever seen a
pure rose water kept in a crystal glass ? How fine it looks,
how sweet it smells, while that beautiful glass imprisons it !
Break the prison, and let the water take his own course ;
doth it not embrace dust and lose all his former sweetness
* Haling — Forcing or dragging violently. Two instances of the
word occur in the Bible ; Luke xii. 58, and Acts viii. 3.
■\ Seelcd^^\\\\^^A; Fr. siller les yaix (seep. 78).
" Ambition, like a seeled dove, mounts upwards,
Higher and higher still, to perch on clouds,
But tumbles headlong down with heavier ruin."
Ford, The Broken Heart, act ii. so. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 265
and fairness ? Truly, so are we, if we have not the stay,
rather than the restraint, of crystalline marriage."
Yet neither her wily words, nor the persuasions of sucl^
words passing through such lips, could gain over Philoclea
to Cecropia's wishes. Nor did daily presents, as it were
oblations to pacify an angry deity, have any avail ; whereon
Cecropia bethought her to attempt Pamela, and, taking new
courage, she went to her chamber, and, according to her own
ungracious method of subtle proceeding, stood listening at
the door till there might arise a fit beginning to her intended
discourse.
And so she might perceive that Pamela did walk up and
down, full of deep, though patient, thoughts, without any
passionate gesture or violent motion ; till at length, as it /,
were, awakening and strengthening herself, " Well," said she,
" yet this is the best, and of this I am sure, that, howsoever
they wrong me, they cannot overmaster God. No darkness
blinds his eyes, no jail bars him out. To whom then else
should I fly but to him for succour ?" And therewith kneeling
down, even where she stood, she thus said : " O all-seeing
Light and eternal Life of all things, to whom nothing is
either so great that it may resist, or so small that it is con-
temned, look upon my misery with thine eye of mercy, and
let thine infinite power vouchsafe to limit out some propor-
tion of deliverance unto me as to thee shall seem most con-
venient. Let not injury, O Lord, triumph over me, and let
my faults by thy hand be corrected, and make not mine
unjust enemy the minister of thy justice. But yet, my God,
if in thy wisdom this be the aptest chastisement for my
unexcusable folly ; if this low bondage be fittest for my over-
high desires ; if the pride of my not enough humble heart
be thus to be broken, O Lord, I yield unto thy will and joy-
fully embrace what sorrow thou wilt have me suffer. Only
266 ARCADIA.— Book III.
thus much let me crave of thee — let my craving, O Lord, be
accepted of thee, since even that proceeds from thee — let
me crave, even by the noblest title, which in my greatest
affliction I may give myself, that I am thy creature, and by
thy goodness, which is thyself, that thou wilt suffer some
beam of thy majesty so to shine into my mind that it may
still depend confidently on thee. Let calamity be the exer-
cise, but not the overthrow of my virtue. Let their power
prevail, but prevail not to destruction ; let my greatness be
their prey ; let my pain be the sweetness of their revenge ;
let them, if so it seem good unto thee, vex me with more
and more punishment. But, O Lord, let never their wicked-
ness have such a hand but that I may carry a pure mind in
a pure body." And, pausing a while, "And, O most
gracious Lord," said she, "whatever becomes of me, pre-
serve the virtuous Musidorus."*
* Pamela! s Prayer — According to some of the earlier editions
of Eikon Basilike, this prayer was delivered to Bishop Juxon by
Charles L immediately before his death, and entitled "A Prayer in
Time of Captivity." Mihon, in his "Eikonoklastes," chap, i., speaks
thus indignantly of the king's use of it : — " But this king, not con-
tent with that which, although in a thing holy, is no holy theft, to
attribute to his own making other men's whole prayers, hath as it
were unhallowed and unchristened the very duty of prayer itself, by
borrowing to a Christian use prayers offered to a heathen god. Who
would have imagined so little fear in him of the true all-seeing Deity,
so little reverence of the Holy Ghost, whose office is to dictate and
present our Christian prayers, so little care of truth in his last words,
or honour to himself or to his friends, or sense of his afflictions, or of
that sad hour which was upon him, as immediately before his death
to pop into the hand of that grave bishop who attended him, for a
special relique of his saintly exercises, a prayer stolen word for word
from the mouth of a heathen woman praying to a heathen god ; and
that in no serious book, but the vain, amatorious poem of Sir Philip
Sidney's Arcadia, a book in that kind full of worth and wit, but
among religious thoughts and duties not worthy to be named, nor to
be read at any time without good caution, much less in time of
trouble and affliction to be a Christian's prayer-book f And again,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 267
The other part Cecropia might well hear ; but this later
prayer for Musidorus her heart held it as so jewel-like a
treasure that it would scarce trust her own lips withal. But
this prayer, sent to heaven from so heavenly a creature, with
such a fervent grace as if devotion had borrowed her body to
make of itself a most beautiful representation ; with her eyes
so lifted to the skyward that one would have thought they
had began to fly thitherward, to take their place among their
fellow-stars ; her naked hands raising up their whole length,
and as it were kissing one another, as if the right had been
the picture of zeal and the left of humbleness, which both
united themselves to make their suits more acceptable ;
lastly, all her senses being rather tokens than instruments
of her inward motions, altogether had so strange a working
power that even the hard-hearted wickedness of Cecropia, if
it found not a love of that goodness, yet it felt an abashment
at that goodness ;* and if she had not a kindly remorse, yet
had she an irksome accusation of her own naughtiness, so
that she was put from the bias of her fore-intended lesson.
For well she found there was no way at that time to take that
mind but with some, at least, image of virtue ; and what the
figure thereof was, her heart knew not.
Yet did she prodigally spend her uttermost eloquence,
leaving no argument unproved which might with any force
invade her excellent judgment — the justness of the request,
at the end of chap, xxiii., he speaks of the king's "borrowing
David's psalms However, this was more tolerable than
Pamela's prayer, stolen out of Sir Philip." Although he here calls
the Arcadia "a vain, amatorious poem," Milton elsewhere speaks in
the highest terms of it — it was only "vain" on the scaffold of the
king.
* Abashment at that goodness —
''''Abashed the Devil stood.
And felt how awful goodness is, and saw
Virtue in her shape how lovely." — Milton, P. L. iv. 846.
/
268 ARCADIA.— Book III.
being but for marriage ; the worthiness of the suitor ; then
her own present fortune, which should not only have amend-
ment, but felicity ; besides falsely making her beheve that
her sister would think herself happy if now she might have
his love which before she contemned, and obliquely touching
what danger it should be for her if her son should accept Phi-
loclea in marriage, and so match the next heir-apparent, she
being in his power ; yet plentifully perjuring how extremely
her son loved her, and excusing the little shows he made of
it with the dutiful respect he bare unto her, and taking upon
herself that she restrained him, since she found she could set
no limits to his passions. And as she did to Philoclea, so
did she to her, with the tribute of gifts seek to bring her mind
into servitude, and all other means that might either establish
a beholdingness, or at least awake a kindness, doing it so as,
by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not how the
other was wooed, but each might think that only she was,
sought. But if Philoclea, with sweet and humble dealing,
did avoid their assaults, she with the majesty of virtue did
beat them off.
But this day speech was the sooner broken off, by reason
that he who stood as watch upon the top of the keep did not
only see a great dust arise, which the earth sent up as if it
would strive to have clouds as well as the air, but might spy
sometimes, especially when the dust, wherein the naked wind
did apparel itself, was carried aside from thern, the shining
of armour, like flashing of lightning, wherewith the clouds
did seem to be with child, which the sun gilding with his
beams, it gave a sight delightful to any but to them that were
to abide the terror. But the watch gave a quick alarum to the
soldiers within, whom practice already having prepared,
began each, with unabashed hearts, or at least countenances,
to look to their charge which was allotted unto them.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 26()
Amphialus, who, before the enemies came, was careful,
providently diligent, and not sometimes without doubting of
the issue, now the nearer danger approached, like the light
of a glow-worm, the less still it seemed, and now his courage
began to boil in choler, and with such impatience to desire to
pour out both upon the enemy that he issued presently into
certain boats he had of purpose, and, carrying with him some
choice men, went to the fortress he had upon the edge of the
lake, which he thought would be the first thing that the enemy
would attempt, because it was a passage which commanding
all that side of the country, and, being lost, would stop victual
or other supply that might be brought into the castle ; and
in that fortress having some force of horsemen, he issued out
with two hundred horse and five hundred footmen, ambushed
his footmen in the falling of a hill which was overshadowed
with a wood ; he with his horsemen went a quarter of a mile
further, asidehand of which he might perceive the many
troops of the enemy, who came but to view where best to
encamp themselves.
But, as if the sight of the enemy had been a magnes stone* |
to his courage, he could not contain himself, but, showing his
face to the enemy and his back to the soldiers, used that
action as his only oration both of denouncing war to the one
and persuading help of the other, who faithfully following an
example of such authority, they made the earth to groan under
their furious burden, and the enemies 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
* Magnes stone — The magnet, its Greek form Mayj/rjs, so called
from the country it came from — Magnesia (Vossius).
" Quem magneta vocant patrio de nomine Graii."
— Lucret. vi. 908.
" On th' other syde an hideous rocke is pight
Of mightie magnes stone.'''' — Faerie Queene, bk. ii. c. 12*
270 ARCADIA.— Book III.
face as yet did not bewray his sex with so much as show of
hair, of a mind having no Hmits of hope, not knowing why to
fear, full of jollity in conversation, and lately grown a lover.
His name was Agenor, of all that army the most beautiful,
who having ridden in sportful conversation among the fore-
most, all armed, saving that his beaver was up, to have his
breath in more freedom, seeing Amphialus come a pretty way
before his company, neither staying the commandment of the
captain, nor reckoning whether his face were armed or no, set
spurs to his horse, and, with youthful bravery casting his
staff about his head, put it then into his rest, as careful of
comely carrying it as if the mark had been but a ring and
the lookers-on ladies. But Amphialus' lance was already
come to the last of his descending line, and began to make
the full point of death against the head of this young gentle-
man, when Amphialus, perceiving his youth and beauty, com-
passion so rebated the edge of choler that he spared that fair
nakedness, and let his staff fall to Agenor's vampalt ;* so as
both with brave breaking should hurtlessly have performed
that match, but that the pitiless lance of Amphialus, angry
with being broken, with an unlucky counterbuff full of unspar-
ing splinters, lighted upon that face, far fitter for the combats
of Venus, giving not only a sudden but a foul death, leaving
scarcely any tokens of his former beauty ; but, his hands
abandoning the reins and his thighs the saddle, he fell side-
ward from the horse ; which sight coming to Leontius, a dear
friend of his, who in vain had lamentably cried unto him to
stay, when he saw him begin his career, it was hard to say
whether pity of the one or revenge against the other held as
then the sovereignty in his passions. But while he directed
his eye to his friend and his hand to his enemy, so wrongly
* Vampalt — Vamplet, or vamplate, the round iron hand-guard on
a tilting spear.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 271
consorted a power could not resist the ready-minded force '
of Amphialus, who, perceiving his ill-directed direction
against him, so paid him his debt before it was lent that he
also fell to the earth, only happy that one place and one time
did finish both their loves and lives together.
But by this time there had been a furious meeting of either
side, where, after the terrible salutation of warlike noise, the
shaking of hands was with sharp weapons. Some lances, ac-
cording to the metal they met and skill of the guider, did
stain themselves in blood ; some flew up in pieces, as if they
would threaten heaven because they failed on earth : but
their office was quickly inherited, either by the prince of
weapons — the sword — or by some heavy mace, or biting axe,
which, hunting still the weakest chase, sought ever to fight
there where smallest resistance might worst prevent mischief.
The clashing of armour, and crushing of staves, the justling
of bodies, the resounding of blows, was the first part of that
ill-agreeing music which was beautified with the grisliness of
wounds, the rising of dust, the hideous falls, and the groans
of the dying.
But no sword paid so large a tribute of souls to the eternal
kingdom as that of Amphialus, who like a tiger from whom
a company of wolves did seek to ravish a new-gotten prey,
so he, remembering they came to take away Philoclea, did
labour to make valour, strength, choler, and hatred to answer
the proportion of his love, which was infinite. And with
the well-followed valour of Amphialus were the other almost
overthrown, when Philanax, who was the marshal of the army,
came in, with new force renewing the almost decayed courage
of his soldiers ; for, crying to them, and asking them whether
their backs or their arms were better fighters, he himself
thrust just into the press, and, making force and fury wait
upon discretion and government, he might seem a brave lion
272 ARCADIA.— Book III.
who taught his young honets how, in taking of a prey, to join
courage with cunning. Then Fortune, as if she had made
chases enow of the one side of that bloody tenniscourt, went
of the other side the hne, making as many fall down of Am-
phialus' followers as before had done of Philanax's, they
losing the ground as fast as before they had won it, only
leaving them to keep it who had lost themselves in keeping
it. Then those that had killed inherited the lot of those that
had been killed, and cruel deaths made them lie quietly
together who most in their lives had sought to disquiet each
other, and many of those first overthrown had the comfort to
see their murtherers overrun them to Charon's ferry.
Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo lost their lives upon Phila-
nax's sword. But nobody's case was more pitied than of a
young squire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who never
abandoning his master, and making his tender age aspire to
acts of the strongest manhood, in this time that his side was
put to the worst, and that Amphialus' valour was the only
stay of them from delivering themselves over to a most
shameful flight, he saw his master's horse killed under him ;
whereupon, asking advice of no other thought but of faithful-
ness and courage, he presently lighted from his own horse,
and, with the help of some choice and faithful servants, gat
his master up. But in the multitude that came of either
side, some to succour, some to save Amphialus, he came
under the hand of Philanax, and the youth, perceiving he
was the man that did most hurt to his party, desirous even
to change his life for glory, strake at him as he rode by him,
and gave him a hurt upon the leg that made Philanax turn
towards him ; but seeing him so young, and of a most lovely
presence, he rather took pity of him, meaning to take him
prisoner, and then to give him to his brother Agenor to be
his companion, because they were not much unlike, neither
ARCADIA.— Book III. 273
in years nor countenance. But as helooked down upon him
with that thought, he espied where his brother lay dead, and
his friend Leontius by him, even almost under the squire's
feet. Then sorrowing not only his own sorrow, but the
past-comfort sorrow which he foreknew his mother would
take, who, with many tears and misgiving sighs, had suffered
him to go with his elder brother Philanax, blotted out all
figures of pity out of his mind, and putting forth his horse
while Ismenus doubled two or three more valiant than well-
set blows, saying to himself, " Let other mothers bewail an
untimely death as well as mine," he thrust him through,
and the boy, fierce though beautiful, and beautiful though
dying, not able to keep his falling feet, fell down to the earth,
which he bit for anger, repining at his fortune, and, as long
as he could, resisting death, which might seem unwilling
too, so long he was in taking away his young struggling soul.
Philanax himself could have wished the blow ungiven when
he saw him fall like a fair apple, which some uncourteous
body, breaking his bough, should throw down before it were
ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that
and himself, so as, over-hastily pressing upon the retiring
enemies, he was, ere he was aware, further engaged than his
own soldiers could relieve him, where, being overthrown by
Amphialus, Amphialus, glad of him, kept head against his
enemies, while some of his men carried away Philanax.
But Philanax's men, as if with the loss of Philanax they
had lost the fountain of their valour, had their courages so
dried up in fear that they began to set honour at their backs
and to use the virtue of patience in an untimely time, when
into the press comes, as hard as his horse — more afraid of the
spur than the sword — could carry him, a knight in armour
as black as darkness could make it, followed by none and
adorned by nothing, so far without authority that he was
T
274 ARCADIA.— Book III.
without knowledge. But virtue quickly made him known,
and admiration bred him such authority that though they of
whose side he came knew him not, yet they all knew it was
fit to obey him, and, while he was followed by the valiantest,
he made way for the vilest. For, taking part with the be-
siegers, he made the Amphialians' blood serve for a caparison
to his horse and a decking to his armour. His arm no ofter
gave blows than the blows gave wounds, than the wounds
gave deaths, so terrible was his force; and yet was his quick-
ness more forcible than his force, and his judgment more
quick than his quickness ; for, though his sword went faster
than eyesight could follow it, yet his own judgment went
still before it. There died of his hand Sarpedon, Plistonax,
Strophilus, and Hippolytus,* men of great proof in wars, and
who had that day undertaken the guard of Amphialus.
And now the often-changing fortune began also to change
the hue of the battles \\ for at the first, though it were terrible,
yet terror was decked so bravely with rich furniture, gilt
swords, shining armours, pleasant pensils,J that the eye with
delight had scarce leisure to be afraid; but now all, universally
defiled with dust, blood, broken armour, mangled bodies,
took away the mask, and set forth Horror in his own horrible
manner. But neither could danger be dreadful to Amphialus
his undismayable courage, nor yet seem ugly to him, whose
truly-affected mind did still paint it over with the beauty of
* Sarpedon, &^c. — This mr/Jev,-\]\ remind the reader of the Homeric
combats, or of those conflicts in the ^'Eneid, whence, probably,
Sidney took many of his names, as, for instance, that at the head of
this note :
" vSeevus ubi ^acides t^o jacet Hector ; ubi mgeus
Sarpedon.'''' — /Eneid, lib. i. v. 103.
+ Battles — " Battle" properly means the main body of the army,
although it is occasionally used by Sidney in the sense of "battalions."
X Pensils — Little streamers at the ends of the lances ; Lat. penderc^
pensilis. Ben Jonson speaks of pensile shields and armours.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 275
Philoclea. And therefore he, rather inflamed than troubled \
with the increase of dangers, and glad to find a worthy sub-
ject to exercise his courage, sought out this new knight, whom
he might easily find, for he like a wanton rich man that
throws down his neighbour's house to make himself the better
prospect, so had his sword made him so spacious a room that
Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding than
labour for the seeking, which, if it stirred hate in him to see
how much harm he did to the one side, it provoked as much
emulation in him to perceive how much good he did to the
other side. Therefore, they approaching one to the other,
as in two beautiful folks love naturally stirs a desire of |
joining, so in their two courages hate stirred a desire of \y'
trial. Then began there a combat between them worthy to
have had more large lists and more quiet beholders; for, with
the spur of courage and the bit of respect, each so guided
himself that one might well see the desire to overcome made
them not forget how to overcome; in such time and propor-
tion they did employ their blows, that none of Ceres' ser-
vants could more cunningly place his flail ; while the left-foot
spur set forward his own horse, the right let backward the
contrary horse, even sometimes by the advantage of the
enemy's leg, while the left hand, like him that held the stern,
guided the horse's obedient courage ; all done in such order
that it might seem the mind was a right prince indeed, who
sent wise and diligent lieutenants into each of those well-
governed parts. But the more they fought the more they
desired to fight, and the more they smarted the less they felt
the smart, and now were like to make a quick proof to
whom fortune and valour would seem most friendly, when in
comes an old governor of Amphialus, always a good knight,
and careful of his charge, who giving a sore wound to the
black knight's thigh while he thought not of him, with another
T 2
276 ARCADIA,— Book IIL
blow slew his horse under him. Amphialus cried to him that
he dishonoured him. "You say well," answered the old
knight, " to stand now, like a private soldier, setting your
credit upon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius,
with all his host, is getting between you and your town. He
looked that way and found that true indeed, that the enemy
was beginning to encompass him about, and stop his return ;
and, therefore, causing the retreat to be sounded, his governor
led his men homeward, while he kept himself still hindermost,
as if he had stood at the gate of the sluice to let the stream
go, with such proportion as should seem good unto him, and
with so manful discretion performed it, that, though with loss
of many of his men, he returned, himself, safe and content
that his enemies had felt how sharp the sword could bite of
Philoclea's lover. The other party, being sorry for the loss of
Philanax, was yet sorrier when the black knight could not be
found ; for he, having gotten a horse whom his dying master
had bequeathed to the world, finding himself sore hurt, and
not desirous to be known, had in the time of the enemy's re-
tiring retired away also, his thigh not bleeding blood so fast
as his heart bled revenge. But Basilius, having attempted
in vain to bar the safe return of Amphialus, encamped him-
self as strongly as he could, while he, to his grief, might hear
the joy was made in the town by his own subjects, that he
had that day sped no better ; for Amphialus, being well
beloved of that people, when they saw him not vanquished,
they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a flourish-
ing show upon his worthiness, and his great nobility en-
nobhng his dangers.
And now Amphialus, still craving his mother's help to
persuade Philoclea, himself sent for Philanax unto him, whom
he had not only long hated, but now had his hate greatly
increased by the death of his squire Ismenus ; besides, he
ARCADIA.— Book III. 277
had made him as one of the chief causes that moved him to
this rebelhon, and therefore was incHned, to colour the better
his action, and the more to embrue the hands of his accom-
pHces by making them guilty of such a trespass, in some
formal sort to cause him to be executed, being also greatly
egged thereunto by his mother and some other, who long had
hated Philanax, only because he was more worthy than they
to be loved.
But, while that deliberation was handled according rather
to the humour than the reason of each speaker, Philoclea
coming to the knowledge of the hard plight wherein Philanax
stood, she desired one of the gentlewomen appointed to wait
upon her to go in her name and beseech Amphialus that, if
the love of her had any power of persuasion in his mind, he
would lay no further punishment than imprisonment upon
Philanax. This message was delivered even as Philanax was
entering to the presence of Amphialus, coming, according to
the warning was given him, to receive judgment of death.
But when he, with manful resolution, attended the fruit of
such a tyrannical sentence, thinking it wrong, but no harm to
him that should die in so good a cause, Amphialus turned
quite the form of his pretended speech, and yielded him
humble thanks that by his means he had come to that happi-
ness as to receive a commandment of his lady, and therefore
he willingly gave him liberty to return in safety whither
he would, quitting him not only of all former grudge, but
assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friend-
ship and service. Philanax — glad to receive an uncor-
rupted liberty — humbly accepted his favourable convoy
out of the town, and so departed, not visiting the princesses,
thinking it might be offensive to Amphialus, and no way
fruitful to them, who were no way but by force to be
rescued.
a/
2/8 ARCADIA.— Book III.
The poor ladies, indeed, [were] not suffered either to meet
together, or to have conference with any other but such as
Cecropia had already framed to sing all their songs to her
tune, she herself omitting no day, and catching hold of every
occasion, to move forward her son's desire and remove their
own resolutions, using the same arguments to the one sister as
to the other, determining that whom she could win first the
other should, without her son's knowledge, by poison be made
away ; but, though the reasons were the same to both, yet the
handling was diverse, according as she saw their humours
to prepare a more or less aptness of apprehension. This day,
having long speech to Philoclea, amplifying not a little the
great dutifulness her son had showed in delivering Philanax,
of whom she could get no answer, but a silence sealed up in
virtue, and so sweetly graced as that in one instant it carried
with it both resistance and humbleness, Cecropia, threaten-
ing in herself to run a more rugged race with her, went to her
sister Pamela.
Whom when Cecropia had found, she took a sudden as-
suredness of hope, and, looking on a purse that Pamela was
making, " Oh, happy man," said she, " to whom a purse in
this manner and by this hand wrought is dedicated." " And
think you so indeed ?" said Pamela, half smiling. " It is the
right nature of beauty," said Cecropia, " to work unwitting
effects of wonder." Then she began glossingly to praise
beauty. " Nature," she said, " countervails all other liberali-
ties, wherein she maybe thought to have dealt more favourably
toward mankind. How do men crown, think you, themselves
with glory, for having either by force brought others to yield
to their mind, or, with long study and premeditated orations,
persuaded what they would have persuaded "i And see, a fair
woman shall not only command without authority, but
persuade without speaking. She shall not need to procure
ARCADIA.— Book III. 279
attention, for their own eyes will chain their ears unto it.
Men venture lives to conquer ; she conquers lives without ven-
turing. She is served and obeyed, which is the most notable,
not because the laws so command it, but because they be-
come laws themselves to obey her, not for her parents' sake, but
for her own sake. She need not dispute whether to govern
by fear or love, since, without her thinking thereof, their love
will bring forth fear, and their fear will fortify their love ; and
she need not seek offensive or defensive force, since her only
lips may stand for ten thousand shields, and ten thousand un-
evitable shot go from her eyes. Beauty, beauty, dear niece,
is the crown of the feminine greatness, which gift, on whom-
soever the heavens, therein most niggardly, do bestow, with-
out question she is bound to use it to the noble purpose for
which it is created, not only winning, but preserving ; since
that, indeed, is the right happiness which is not only in itself
happy, but can also derive the happiness to another."
" Certainly, aunt," said Pamela, " I fear me you will make nie
not only think myself fairer than ever I did, but think my
fairness a matter of greater value than heretofore I could
imagine it ; for I ever, till now, conceived these conquests
you speak of rather to proceed from the weakness of the con-
quered than from the strength of the conquering power, as
they say the cranes overthrow whole battles of Pigmies,
not so much of their cranish courage as because the other
are Pigmies, and that we see young babes think babies* of
wonderful excellency, and yet the babies are but babies. But,
since your elder years and abler judgment find beauty to be
worthy of so incomparable estimation, certainly methinks it
ought to be he ld in dearness, according to the excellency,
* Babies — Dolls, or children's toys.
" Babies doe childi-en please, and shadowes fooles ;
Shewes have deceiv'd the wisest many a time."
— Griffin's Fidessa, 1596.
28o ARCADIA.— Booh III.
and, no more than we would do of things which we account
precious, never to suffer it to be defiled."
" Defiled !" said Cecropia ; " marry, God forbid my speech
should tend to any such purpose !" Then, employing the utter-
most of her mischievous wit, " Dear niece, or, rather, dear
daughter, if my affection and wish might prevail therein, how
much doth it increase, trow you, the earnest desire I have of
this blessed match to see those virtues of yours knit fast with
such zeal of devotion — indeed the best bond which the most
politic wits have found to hold man's wit in well-doing? For,
as children must first by fear be induced to know that which
after, when they do know, they are most glad of, so are these
bugbears of opinions brought by great clerks into the world
to serve as shewels* to keep them from those faults whereto
else the vanity of the world and weakness of senses might
pull them. But in you, niece, whose excellency is such as it
need not to be held up by the staff of vulgar opinions, I would
not you should love virtue servilely, for fear of I know not what,
which you see not, but even for the good effects of virtue which
you see. Fear — and indeed foolish fear — and fearful ignorance,
was the first inventor of those conceits ; for when they heard
it thunder, not knowing the natural cause, they thought there
was some angry body above that spake so loud, and ever the
less they did perceive the more they did conceive. Whereof
they knew no cause, that grew straight a miracle, foolish folks
not marking that the alterations be but upon particular acci-
dents, the universality being always one. Yesterday was but
as to-day, and to-morrow will tread the same footsteps of his
foregoers ; so as it is manifest enough that all things follow
but the course of their own nature, saving only man, who,
^Shrivels — Examples; from the verb "to shew." Archdeacon
Nares says that this is the only instance of the word with which he
is acquainted.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 281
while by the pregnancy of his imagination he strives to things ';
supernatural, meanwhile he loseth his own natural felicity.
Be wise, and that wisdom shall be a god unto thee ; be con-
tented, and that is thy heaven : for else to think that those
powers, if there be any such, above are moved either by the
eloquence of our prayers, or in a chafe at the folly of our
actions, carries as much reason as if flies should think that
men take great care which of them hums sweetest and which
of them flies nimblest."
She would have spoken further, to have enlarged and con-
firmed her discourse, when Pamela, whose cheeks were dyed
in the beautifulest grain of virtuous anger, with eyes which
glistered forth beams of disdain, thus interrupted her : —
"Peace! wicked woman, peace! unworthy to breathe that doest
not acknowledge the Breath-giver ; most unworthy to have
a tongue, which speakest against him through whom thou
speakest ; keep your affection to yourself, which, like a be-
mired dog, would defile with fawning. You say yesterday
was as to-day. O foolish woman, and most miserably foolish
since v^at makes you foolish ! what doth that argue but that
there is a constancy in the everlasting Governor t Would
you have an inconstant God ; since we count a man foohsh
that is inconstant 1 He is not seen, you say ; and would you
think him a god who might be seen by so wicked eyes as
yours ? which yet might see enough if they were not like such
who for sport sake willingly hoodwink themselves to receive
blows the easier. But, though I speak to you without any
hope of fruit in so rotten a heart, and there be nobody else
here to judge of my speeches, yet be thou my witness, O cap-
tivity, that my ears shall not be willingly guilty of my Creator's
blasphemy. You say, because we know not the causes of
things, therefore fear was the mother of superstition : nay,
because we know that each effect hath a cause, that hath
^
282 ARCADIA.— Book HI.
engendered a true and lively devotion. For this goodly work
of which we are,, and in which we live, hath not his being by
chance ; on which opinion it is beyond marvel by what chance
any brain could stumble. For if it be eternal, as you would
seem to conceive of it, eternity and chance are things unsuf-
ferable together. For that is chanceable which happeneth ;
and if it happen, there was a time before it happened when
it might have not happened ; or else it did not happen, and
so, if chanceable, not eternal. And as absurd it is to think
that, if it had a beginning, his beginning was derived from
chance ; for chance could never make all things of nothing :
and if there were substances before which by chance should
meet to make up this work, thereon follows another bottomless
pit of absurdities. For then those substances must needs
have been from ever, and so eternal ; and that eternal causes
should bring forth chanceable effects is as sensible as that the
sun should be the author of darkness. Again, if it were
chanceable, then was it not necessary ; whereby you take
away all consequents. But we see in all things, in some
respect or other, necessity of consequence ; therefore, in
reason, we must needs know that the causes were necessary.
Lastly, chance is variable, or else it is not to be called chance ;
but we see this work is steady and permanent. If nothing
but chance had glued those pieces of this All, the heavy parts
would have gone infinitely downward, the hght infinitely
upward, and so never have met to have made up this goodly
body. For, before there was a heaven or earth, there was
neither a heaven to stay the height of the ring, or an earth
which, in respect of the round walls of heaven, should become
a centre. Lastly, perfect order, perfect beauty, perfect con-
stancy, if these be the children of chance, let wisdom be
counted the root of wickedness.
" But you will say it is so by nature ; as much as if you
ARCADIA.— Book III. 283
said it is so because it is so. If you mean of many natures
conspiring together, as in a popular government, to establish
this fair estate, as if the elementish and ethereal parts should
in their town-house set down the bounds of each one's office,
then consider what follows : that there must needs have been
a wisdom which made them concur, for their natures, being
absolutely contrary, in nature rather would have sought each
other's ruin than have served as well-consorted parts to such
an unexpressible harmony. For that contrary things should
meet to make up a perfection without force and wisdom above
their powers is absolutely impossible ; unless you will fly
to that hissed-out opinion of chance again. But you may
perhaps affirm that one universal nature, which hath been
for ever, is the knitting together of these many parts to such
an excellent unity. If you mean a nature of wisdom, good-
ness, and providence, which knows what it doth, then say you
that which I seek of you, and cannot conclude those blas-
phemies with which you defiled your mouth and mine ears.
But if you mean a nature, as we speak of the fire, which goeth
upward it knows not why, and of the nature of the sea, which
in ebbing and flowing seems to observe so just a dance and
yet understands no music, it is but still the same absurdity
superscribed with another title. For this word One being
attributed to that which is All is but one mingling of many,
and many ones ; as in a less matter, when we say one king-
dom which contains many cities, or one city which contains
many persons ; wherein the under-ones, if there be not a
superior power and wisdom, cannot by nature regard any
preservation but of themselves ; no more we see they do,
since the water willingly quenches the fire, and drowns the
earth, so far are they from a conspired unity ; but that a right
heavenly nature indeed, as it were unnaturing them, doth so
bridle them.
284 ARCADIA.— Book TIL
" Again, it is as absurd in nature that from an unity many
contraries should proceed, still kept in an unity, as that from
the number of contrarieties an unity should arise. I say still,
if you banish both a singularity and plurality of judgment
from among them, then, if so earthly a mind can lift itself
up so high, do but conceive how a thing whereto you give
the highest and most excellent kind of being, which is
eternity, can be of a base and vilest degree of being, and
next to a not being, which is so to be as not to enjoy his own
being. I will not here call all your senses to witness, which
can hear nor see nothing which yield not most evident evi-
dence of the unspeakableness of that wisdom, each thing being
directed to an end of preservation ; so proper effects of judg-
ment, as speaking and laughing are of mankind. But what
mad fury can ever so inveigle any conceit as to see our mortal
and corruptible selves to have a reason, and that this uni-
versality, whereof we are but the least pieces, should be
utterly devoid thereof.'' As if one should say that one's foot
might be wise and himself foolish. This heard I once alleged
against such a godless mind as yours, who, being driven to
acknowledge this beastly absurdity that our bodies should be
better than the whole world if it had the knowledge whereof the
other were void, he sought, not able to answer directly, to shift
it off in this sort : that, if that reason were true, then must it
follow also that the world must have in it a spirit that could write
and read too, and be learned, since that was in us commend-
able. Wretched fool ! not considering that books be but
supplies of defects, and so are praised because they help our
want, and therefore cannot be incident to the eternal Intelli-
gence, which needs no recording of opinions to confirm his
knowledge, no more than the sun wants wax to be the fuel of
his glorious lightfulness.
" This world, therefore, cannot otherwise consist but by a
ARCADIA.— Book III. 285
mind of wisdom which governs it, which whether you will
allow to be the creator thereof, as undoubtedly he is, or
the soul and governor thereof, most certain it is that, whether
he govern all, or make all, his power is above either his
creatures or his government. And if his power be above all
things, then, consequently, it must needs be infinite, since
there is nothing above it to limit it; forbeyond which there is
nothing must needs be boundless 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 use, the unsensibleness whereof I
think even you can conceive ; and if infinite, then must
nothing, no, not the estate of flies, which you, with so un-
savoury scorn, did jest at, be unknown unto him ; for if there
were, then were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite.
If his knowledge and power be infinite, then must needs his
goodness and justice march in the same rank; for infiniteness
of power and knowledge, without like measure of goodness,
must necessarily bring forth destruction and ruin, and not
ornament and preservation. Since, then, there is a God, and
an all-knowing God, so as he seeth into the darkest of all
natural secrets, which is the heart of man, and sees therein
the deepest dissembled thoughts — nay, sees the thoughts
before they be thought ; since he is just to exercise his
might, and mighty to perform his justice, assure thyself, most
wicked woman, that hast so plaguily a corrupted mind as
thou canst not keep thy sickness to thyself, but must most
wickedly infect others — assure thyself, I say, for what I say
depends of everlasting and unremovable causes, that the
time will come when thou shalt know that power by feeling
it, when thou shalt see his wisdom in the manifesting thy
ugly shamefulness, and shalt only perceive him to have been
a Creator in thy destruction."
286 ARCADIA.— Book III.
Thus she said, thus she ended, with so fair a majesty of
unconquered virtue that captivity might seem to have au-
thority over tyranny, so foul was the filthiness of impiety
discovered by the shining of her unstained goodness, so far
as either Cecropia saw, indeed, or else the guilty amazement
of a self-accusing conscience made her eyes untrue judges of
their natural object, that there was a light, more than human,
which gave a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia, like a
bat, which, though it have eyes to discern that there is a sun,
yet hath so evil eyes that it cannot delight in the sun, found
a truth, but could not love it. So, saying little more unto
her, but that she should have leisure enough better to bethink
herself, she went away, repining, but not repenting, con-
demning greatly, as she thought, her son's over-feeble humble-
ness, and purposing to ^%% him forward to a course of
violence. For herself, determining to deal with neither of
them both any more in manner of a suitor ; for what majesty
of virtue did in the one that did silent humbleness in the
other. But, finding her son over-apt to lay both condemna-
tion and execution of sorrow upon himself, she sought to
mitigate his mind with feigned delays of comfort, who, having
this inward overthrow in himself, was the more vexed that he
could not utter the rage thereof upon his outward enemies.
For Basilius, taught by the last day's trial what dangerous
effects chosen courages can bring forth, rather used the spade
than the sword, or the sword but to defend the spade, girding
about the whole town with trenches, which beginning a good
way off from the town, with a number of well-directed pi oners
he still carried before him till they came to a near distance,
where he built forts, one answering the other, in such sort as
it was a pretty consideration in the discipline of war to see
building used for the instrument of ruin, and the assailer
intrenched as if he were besieged. But many sallies did
ARCADIA.— Book III. 287
Amphialus make to hinder their working ; but they, ejcercising
more melancholy than choler in their resolution, made him find
that, if by the advantage of the place few are able to defend
themselves from many, that many must needs have power,
making themselves strong in seat, to repel few, referring the
revenge rather to the end than to a present requital. Yet
oftentimes they dealt some blows in light skirmishes, each side
having a strong retiring place, and rather fighting, with many
alarums, to vex the enemy, than for any hope of great success.
Which every way was a tedious comber* to the impatient
courage of Amphialus, till the fame of this war bringing
thither divers both strangers and subjects, as well of princely
as noble houses, the gallant Phalantus, who refrained his
sportful delights as then to serve Basilius, whom he honoured
for received honours, when he had spent some time in
considering the Arcadian manner in marching, encamping,
and fighting, and had learned in what points of government
and obedience their discipline differed from others, and so
had satisfied his mind in the knowledges both for the cutting
off the enemy's helps and furnishing one's self, which Basi-
lius' orders could deliver unto him, his young spirits, weary of
wanting cause to be weary, desired to keep his valour in
knowledge by some private act, since the public policy re-
strained him ; the rather because his old mistress Artesia
might see whom she had so lightly forsaken ; and therefore,
demanding and obtaining leave of Basilius, he caused a herald
to be furnished with apparel of his office, and tokens of a
peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the town to
demand audience of Amphialus, who, understanding thereof,
caused him both safely and courteously to be brought into
* Comber^ that which overloads or embarrasses, whence our word
"cumber." "For if thou were not brought sometime into com-
h-aunce, whence God onely could deliver thee, thou shouldst never
see thy faith." — Tyndall, Workes, p. 117.
288 ARCADIA.— Book III.
his presence ; who, making lowly reverence unto him, pre-
sented his letters, desiring Amphialus that whatsoever they
contained he w^ould consider he was only the bearer and not
the inditer. Amphialus wath noble gentleness assured him,
both by honourable speeches and a demeanour which answered
for him, that his revenge, whensoever, should sort unto itself a
higher subject. But, opening the letters, he found them to
speak in this manner : —
" Phalantus of Corinth, to Amphialus of Arcadia,
sendeth the greeting of a hateless enemy. The liking of
martial matters, without any dislike of your person, hath
brought me rather to the company than to the mind of your
besiegers ; where languishing in idleness, I desire to refresh
my mind w4th some exercise of arms, which might make
known the doers with delight of the beholders. Therefore, if
there be any gentleman in your town that, either for the love
of honour or honour of his love, will, armed on horseback
with lance and sword, win another or lose himself, to be a
prisoner at discretion of the conqueror, I w411 to-morrow
morning by sun-rising, with a trumpet and a squire only,
attend him in like order furnished. The place I think
fittest, the island within the lake, because it stands so well in
the view of your castle as that the ladies may have the plea-
sure of seeing the combat, which, though it be within the
commandment of your castle, I desire no better security
than the promise I make to myself of your virtue. I attend
your answer, and wish you such success as may be to your
honour, rather in yielding to that which is just, than in
maintaining wrong by violence."
Amphialus read it with cheerful countenance, and, thinking
but a little with himself, called for ink and paper, and wrote
this answer : —
ARCADIA.— Book III. 289
" Amphialus of Arcadia, to Phalantus of Corinth,
wisheth all his own wishes, saving those which may be
hurtful to another. The matter of your letters so fit for a
worthy mind, and the manner so suitable to the nobleness of
the matter, give me cause to think how happy I might
account myself if I could get such a friend, who esteem it no
small happiness to have met with so noble an enemy. Your
challenge shall be answered, and both time, place, and weapon
accepted. For your security from any treachery, having no
hostage worthy to countervail you, take my word, which I
esteem above all respects. Prepare therefore your arms to
fight, but not your heart to malice, since true valour needs
no other whetstone than desire of honour."
Having writ and sealed his letter, he delivered it to the
herald, and withal took a fair chain from off his own neck
and gave it him ; and so with safe convoy sent him away
from out his city. And he being gone, Amphialus showed
unto his mother, and some other of his chief counsellors,
what he had received, and how he had answered, telling
them withal that he was determined to answer the challenge
in his own person. His mother, with prayers authorized by
motherly commandment ; his old governor, with persuasions
mingled with reprehensions that he would rather affect the
glory of a private fighter than of a wise general ; Qinias, with
falling down at his feet, and beseeching him to remember
that all their lives depended upon his safety, sought all to
dissuade him. But Amphialus, whose heart was inflamed
with courage, and courage inflamed with affection, made an
imperious resolution cut off the tediousness of replies, giving
them in charge what they should do upon all occasions,
and particularly to deliver the ladies if otherwise than well
happened unto him ; only desiring his mother that she would
bring Philoclea to a window, whence she might with ease
U
290 ARCADIA.— Book III.
perfectly discern the combat. And so soon as the morning
began to draw dew from the fairest greens to wash her face
withal, against the approach of the burning sun, he went to
his stable, where himself chose out a horse, whom, though he
was near twenty years old, he preferred for a piece of sure
service before a great number of younger. And after being
fully appointed, he caused himself, with his trumpet and
squire whom he had taken since the death of Ismenus, to be •
ferried over into the island, a place well chosen for such a
purpose. For it was so plain as there was scarcely any
bush or hillock either to unlevel or shadow it ; of length and
breadth enough to try the uttermost both of lance and sword ;
and the one end of it facing the castle, the other extending
itself toward the camp ; and, no access to it but by water, there
could no treachery be wrought, and, for manifest violence,
either side might have time enough to succour their party.
But there he found Phalantus already waitrng for him
upon a horse milk-white, but that upon his shoulder and
withers he was freckled with red stains, as when a few straw-
berries are scattered into a dish of cream. As soon as
Amphialus landed, he sent his squire to Phalantus to tell him
that there was the knight ready to know whether he had any-
thing to say to him ; Phalantus answered that his answer now
must be in the language of lances ; and so each attended the
warning of the trumpets, which were to sound at the appoint-
ment of four judges, who with consideration of the same had
divided the ground. Phalantus his horse, young, and feehng
the youth of his master, stood curveting, which being well
governed by Phalantus, gave such a glittering grace as when
the sun in a clear day shines upon a waving water ; Amphi-
alus' horse stood pawing upon the ground with his further
foot before, as if he would for his master's cause begin to
make himself angry; till the trumpets sounding together,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 291
together they set spurs to their horses, together took their
lances from their thighs, conveyed them up into the rest
together, together let them sink downward, so as it was a
delectable sight in a dangerous effect, and a pleasant consi-
deration that there was so perfect agreement in so mortal
disagreement, like a music made of cunning discords. But
their horses, keeping an even line their masters had skilfully
allotted unto them, passed one by another without encoun-
tering, although either might feel the angry breath of the
other. But the staves being come to a just descent, even
when the mark was ready to meet them, Amphialus was run
through the vamplate, and under the arm, so as the staff
appearing behind him, it seemed to the beholders he had
been in danger. But he strake Phalantus just upon the
gorget, so as he battered the lamms* thereof, and made his
head almost touch the back of his horse.
But either side having stayed the spur, and used the bit to
stop their horses' fury, casting away the truncheons of their
staves, and drawing their swords, they attended the second
summons of the death-threatening trumpet, which quickly
followed ; and they as soon making their horses answer their
hands, with a gentle gallop, set one toward the other, till they
being come to the nearness of little more than astaft's length,
Amphialus, trusting more to the strength than to the nimble-
ness of his horse, put him forth with speedy violence, and
making his head join to the other's flank, guiding his blow
with discretion and strengthening it with the course of his
horse, strake Phalantus upon the head in such sort that his
feeling sense did both dazzle his sight and astonish his hear-
ing. But Phalantus, not customed to be ungrateful to such
benefits, strake him upon the side of his face with such force
that he thought his jaw had been cut asunder, though the
* Lamms^ or laniels, thin plates \ Latin, la?tiella.
U 2
292 ARCADIA.— Book III.
faithfulness of his armour indeed guarded him from further
damage. And so remained they a while, rather angry with
fighting than fighting for anger, till Amphialus' horse leaning
hard upon the other, and winning ground, the other horse,
feeling himself pressed, began to rise a little before, as he was
wont to do in his curvet, which advantage Amphialus taking,
set forward his own horse with the further spur, so as Pha-
lantus' horse came over with his master under him, which
Amphialus seeing, lighted with intention to help Phalantus.
But his horse, that had faulted rather with untimely art than
want of force, gat up from burdening his burden, so as Pha-
lantus, in the fall having gotten his feet free of the stirrup,
could, though something bruised, arise, and seeing Amphialus
near him, he asked him whether he had given him any help
in removing his horse. Amphialus said " No." " Truly,"
said Phalantus, " I asked it because I would not willingly
have fought with him that had had my life in his mercy.
But now," said Phalantus, " before we proceed further, let me
know who you are, because never yet did any man bring me
to the like fortune." Amphialus, listing to keep himself un-
known, told him he was a gentleman to whom Amphialus
that day had given armour and horse to try his valour, having
never before been in any combat worthy remembrance.
" Ah," said Phalantus, in a rage, " and must I be the exercise
of your prentisage ?" And with that choler took away
either the bruise or the feeling of the bruise, so as he entered
afresh into the combat, and, boiling into his arms the disdain
of his heart, strake so thick upon Amphialus as if every blow
would fain have been foremost. But Amphialus, that many
like trials had taught great spending to leave small remnants,*
let pass the storm with strong wards and nimble avoidings,
* Great spendifig, <^c. — i.e., that a violent storm soon passes and
leaves little behind it.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 293
till, seeing his time fit, both for distance and nakedness, he
strake him so cruel a blow on the knee that the poor gentle-
man fell down withal in a swound.
But Amphialus, pitying approved valour, made precious by
natural courtesy, went to him, and taking off his headpiece
to give him air, the young knight, disdaining to buy life with
yielding, bad him use his fortune, for he was resolved never
to yield. " No more you shall," said Amphialus, " if it be
not to my request, that you will account yourself to have
great interest in me." Phalantus, more overcome by his
kindness than by his fortune, desired yet once again to know
his name, who in his first beginning had showed such fury
in his force and yet such stay in his fury, Amphialus then
named himself, telling him withal he would think his name
much bettered if it might be honoured by the title of his
friend. But no balm could be more comfortable to his wound
than the knowledge thereof was to his mind, when he knew
his mishap should be excused by the renowned valour of the
other. And so promising each to other assuredness of good-
w^ill, Phalantus, of whom Amphialus would have no other
ransom but his word of friendship, was conveyed into the
camp, where he would but httle remain among the enemies
of Amphialus, but went to seek his adventures otherwhere.
As for Amphialus, he was received with triumph into the
castle, although one might see by his eyes, humbly lifted up
to the window where Philoclea stood, that he was rather
suppliant than victorious, which occasion Cecropia taking,
who as then stood by Philoclea, and had lately left Pamela
in another room, whence also she might see the combat,
" Sweet lady," said she, " now you may see whether you have
cause to love my son, who then lies under your feet when he
stands upon the neck of his bravest enemies." " Alas !" said
Philoclea, " a simple service to me methinks it is, to have
294 ARCADIA.— Book III.
those who come to succour me destroyed. If it be my duty to
call it love, be it so ; but the effects it brings forth I confess
I account hateful." Cecropia grew so angry with this unkind
answer that she could not abstain from telling her that she
was like them that could not sleep when they were softly
laid ; but that, if her son would follow her counsel, he should
take another course with her, and so flang* away from her.
Yet, knowing the desperate melancholy of Amphialus in
like cases, Cecropia framed to him a very thankful message,
powdering it with some hope-giving phrases, which were of
such joy to Amphialus that he, though against public respect
and importunity of dissuaders, presently caused it to be made
known to the camp that whatsoever knight would try the like
fortune as Phalantus did he should in like sort be answered ;
so as divers of the valiantest, partly of themselves, partly at
the instigation of Basilius, attempted the combat with him ;
and according to every one's humour, so were the causes of
the challenge grounded, one laying treason to his charge,
another preferring himself in the w^orthiness to serve Philo-
clea, a third exalting some lady's beauty beyond either of the
sisters, a fourth laying disgraces to love itself, naming it the
bewitcher of the wit, the rebel to reason, the betrayer of re-
solution, the defiler of thoughts, the underminer of magnani-
mity, the flatterer of vice, the slave to weakness, the infection
of youth, the madness of age, the curse of life, and reproach
of death ; a fifth, disdaining to cast at less than at all, would
make the cause of his quarrel the causers of love, and pro-
claim his blasphemies against womankind, that, namely, that
sex was the oversight of nature, the disgrace of reasonableness,
* Flang — The proper pluperfect of "fling," though we now use
"flung." Thus, in Shakespeare, folio 1623 :
•' Alas (kinde Lord)
Yi^€ % flujig va. rage from this ingratefull Seate
Of monstrous Friends." — Timon of Athens, act iv. sc. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 295
the obstinate cowards, the slave-born tyrants, the shops
of vanities, the gilded weathercocks, in whom conscience is
but peevishness, chastity waywardness, and gratefulness a
miracle. But all these challenges, how well soever indited,
were so well answered that some by death taught others,
though past learning themselves, and some by yielding gave
themselves the lie for having blasphemed, to the great grief
of Basilius, so to see his rebel prevail, and in his own sight
to crown himself with deserved honour.
Whereupon, thirsting for revenge, and else not hoping to
prevail, the best of his camp being already overthrown, he
sent a messenger to Argalus, in whose approved courage and
force he had — and had cause to have — great confidence, with a
letter, requiring him to take his quarrel in hand, from which
he had hitherto spared him in respect of his late marriage.
But now his honour and felicity standing upon it, he could no
longer forbear to challenge of him his faithful service.
The messenger made speed, and found Argalus at a castle
of his own, sitting in a parlour with the fair Parthenia, he
reading in a book the stories of Hercules, she by him, as to
hear him read ; but, while his eyes looked on the book, she
looked on his eyes, and sometimes staying him with some
pretty question, not so much to be resolved of the doubt as
to give him occasion to look upon her. A happy couple, he
joying in her, she joying in herself, but in herself because she
enjoyed him ; both increased their riches by giving to each
other, each making one life double because they made a
double life one ; where desire never wanted satisfaction, nor
satisfaction ever bred satiety, he ruhng because she would
obey, or rather, because she would obey, she therein ruling.*
* A most charming picture of happy married life ; a description
which many have imitated, but none in fitness, compactness, and
appropriateness have surpassed.
296 ARCADIA.— Book III.
But when the messenger came in with letters in his hand
and haste in his countenance, though she knew not what to
fear, yet she feared because she knew not ; but she rose and
went aside, while he delivered his letters and message, yet
afar off she looked, now at the messenger, and then at her
husband, the same fear which made her loth to have cause of
fear yet making her seek cause to nourish her fear. And
well she found there was some serious matter, for her hus-
band's countenance figured some resolution between loath-
someness and necessity ; and once his eye cast upon her, and
finding hers upon him, he blushed, and she blushed because
he blushed, and yet straight grew pale, because she knew not
why he had blushed. But when he had read and heard, and
despatched away the messenger, like a man in whom honour
could not be rocked asleep by affection, with promise quickly
to follow, he came to Parthenia, and, as sorry as might be for
parting, and yet more sorry for her sorrow, he gave her the
letter to read. She with fearful slowness took it, and with
fearful quickness read it, and having read it, " Ah, my Ar-
galus," said she, "and have you made such haste to answer?
and are you so soon resolved to leave me ?" But he discours-
ing unto her how much it imported his honour, which, since
it was dear to him, he knew it would be dear unto her, her
reason, overclouded with sorrow, suffered her not presently
to reply, but left the charge thereof to tears and sighs, which
he not able to bear, left her alone, and went to give order for
his present departure.
But by that time he was armed and ready to go she had
recovered a little strength of spirit again, and coming out,
and seeing him armed and wanting nothing for his departure
but her farewell, she ran to him, took him by the arm, and
kneeling down, without regard who either heard her speech or
saw her demeanour, " My Argalus ! my Argalus !" said she,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 297
" do not thus forsake me. Remember, alas ! remember that
1 have interest in you, which I will never yield shall be thus
adventured. Your valour is already sufficiently known,
sufficiently have you already done for your country ; enow,
enow there are beside you to lose less worthy lives. Woe
is me ! what shall become of me, if you thus abandon me ?
Then was it time for you to follow these adventures when
you adventured nobody but yourself, and were nobody's but
your own. But now pardon me that now or never I claim
mine own ; mine you are, and without me you can undertake
no danger, and will you endanger Parthenia .? Parthenia
shall be in the battle of your fight, Parthenia shall smart in
your pain, and your blood must be bled by Parthenia."
" Dear Parthenia," said he, " this is the first time that ever
you resisted my will ; I thank you for it, but persever not in
it, and let not the tears of those most beloved eyes be a pre-
sage unto me of that which you would not should happen.
I shall live, doubt not : for so great a blessing as you are was
not given unto me so soon to be deprived of it. Look
for me, therefore, shortly, and victorious, and prepare a
joyful welcome, and I will wish for no other triumph." She
answered not, but stood as it were thunder-stricken with
amazement, for true love made obedience stand up against
all other passions. But when he took her in his arms, and
sought to print his heart in her sweet lips, she fell in a
swound, so as he was fain to leave her to her gentlewomen ;
and, carried away by the tyranny of honour, though with
many a back-cast look and hearty groan, went to the camp.
Where understanding the notable victories of Amphialus, he
thought to give him some days' respite of rest, because he
would not have his victory disgraced by the other's weariness.
In which days he sought by all means, having leave to parley
with him, to dissuade him from his enterprise ; and then
298 ARCADIA.— Book III.
imparting his mind to Basilius, because he found Amphialus
was inflexible, wrote his defy* unto him in this manner : —
" Right famous Amphialus, if my persuasion in reason,
or prayer in good- will, might prevail with you, you should by
better means be like to obtain your desire. You should
make many brave enemies become your faithful servants and
make your honour fly up to heaven, being carried up by both
wings of valour and justice, whereof now it wants the latter.
But since my suit nor counsel can get no place in you,
disdain not to receive a mortal challenge, from a man so far
inferior unto you in virtue that I do not so much mislike
of the deed as I have the doer 'in admiration. Prepare
therefore yourself according to the noble manner you have
used, and think not hghtly of never so weak an arm which
strikes with the sword of justice."
To his he quickly received this answer : —
" Much more famous Argalus, I whom never threaten-
ings could make afraid am now terrified by your noble
^ courtesy. For well I know from what height of virtue it doth
proceed, and what cause I have to doubt such virtue bent to
my ruin ; but love, which justifieth the unjustice you lay unto
me, doth also animate me against all dangers, since I come
full of him by whom yourself have been, if I be not deceived,
sometimes conquered. I will therefore attend your appear-
ance in the isle, carrying this advantage with me, that as it
shall be a singular honour if I get the victory, so there can be
no dishonour in being overcome by Argalus."
* Defy — Mr. R. Morris (" Specimens of Early English") translates
defye to digest ; here it manifestly means challenge, defiance.
Richardson classes defy as a noun, but gives no instance of its use,
even Chaucer using defiance ; this instance is therefore valuable.
From the Fr. defier. " Ingrats, je vous defie de douter de mon
coeur."— Georges Sand.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 299
The challenge thus denounced and accepted, Argalus was
armed in a white armour which was all gilded over with
knots of women's hair which came down from the crest of his
headpiece, and so spread itself in rich quantity over all his
armour ; his furniture was cut out into the fashion of an
eagle, whereof the beak, made into a rich jewel, was fastened
to the saddle, the tail covered the crupper of the horse, and
the wings served for trappers, which falling of each side, as
the horse stirred the bird seemed to fly. His petrell* and
reins were embroidered with feathers suitable unto it ; upon
his right arm he ware a sleeve which his dear Parthenia had
made for him to be worn in a jousts, in the time that success
was ungrateful to their well-deserved love ; it was full of
bleeding hearts, though never intended to any bloody enter-
prise. In his shield, as his own device, he had two palm-
trees near one another, with a word signifying, "In that sort
flourishing." His horse was of fiery sorrel, with black feet,
and black hst on his back, who with open nostrils breathed
war before he could see an enemy ; and now up with one leg,
and then with another, seemed to complain of nature that
she had made him any whit earthy.
But he had scarcely viewed the ground of the island, and
considered the advantages, if any were, thereof, before the
castle boat had delivered Amphialus, in all points provided
to give a hard entertainment. And then sending each to other
their squires in honourable manner, to know whether they
should attend any further ceremony, the trumpets sounding,
the horses with smooth running, the staves with unshaked
motion, obediently performed their choleric commandments.
But, when they drew near, Argalus' horse, being hot, pressed
* Petrell — The breastplate of the horse's armour ; from the
French /c'/r/ra//, or \\.2X\?cc\. pettorale^ or it maybe a corruption of the
word "pectoral," \^dX. pectoralis.
300 ARCADIA.— Book III.
in with his head, which Amphialus perceiving, knowing if he
gave him his side it should be to his disadvantage, pressed
in also with him, so as both the horses and men met shoulder
to shoulder, so as the horses, hurt as much with the striking
as being stricken, tumbled down to the earth, dangerously
to their masters, but that they, by strength nimble, and by
use skilful in the falling, shunned the harm of the fall, and
without more respite drew out their swords with a gallant
bravery, each striving to show himself the less endamaged,
and to make known that they were glad they had now
nothing else to trust to but their own virtue. True it is that
Amphialus was the sooner up, but Argalus had his sword
out the sooner ; and then fell they to the cruellest combat
that any present eye had seen ; their swords first, like
cannons, battering down the walls of their armour, making
breaches almost in ever}^ place for troops of wounds to enter.
Among the rest, Argalus gave a great wound to Amphialus'
disarmed face, though part of the force of it Amphialus warded
upon his shield, and withal, first casting his eye up to Philo-
clea's window, as if he had fetched his courage thence, feign-
ing to intend the same sort of blow, turned his sword, and,,
with a mighty reverse, gave a cruel wound to the right arm
of Argalus, the unfaithful armour yielding to the sword's
strong-guided sharpness. But, though the blood accused the
hurt of Argalus, yet would he in no action of his confess it,
but, keeping himself in a lower ward, stood watching with
timely thrusts to repair his loss, which quickly he did. For
Amphialus, following his fawning fortune, laid on so thick
upon Argalus that his shield had almost fallen piecemeal to
the earth, when Argalus coming in with his right foot, and
something stooping to come under his armour, thrust him
into the belly dangerously, and mortal it would have been,
but that with the blow before Amphialus had over-stricken
ARCADIA.— Book III, 301
himself so as he fell sideward down, and with falling saved
himself from ruin, the sword by that means slipping aside,
and not piercing more deeply. Argalus, seeing him fall,
threatening with voice and sword, bade him yield. But he
striving without answer to rise, Argalus strake with all his
might upon his head. But his hurt arm, not able to master
so sound a force, let the sword fall so as Amphialus, though
astonished with the blow, could arise, which Argalus con-
sidering ran in to grasp with him, and so closed together,
falling so to the ground, now one getting above, and then the
other. At length, both weary of so unlovely embracements,
with a dissenting consent gate up and went to their swords,
but happened each of his enemy's ; where Argalus finding his
foe's sword garnished in blood, his heart rose with the same
sword to revenge it, and on that blade to ally their bloods
together. But his mind was evil waited on by his lamed
force, so as he received still more and more wounds, which
made all his armour seem to blush that it had defended his
master no better. But Amphialus perceiving it, and weigh-
ing the small hatefulness of their quarrel with the worthiness
of the knight, desired him to take pity of himself. But
Argalus, the more repining the more he found himself in dis-
advantage, filling his veins with spite instead of blood, and
making courage arise against faintness, like a candle, which
a little before it goes out gives then the greatest blaze, so did
he unite all his force that, casting away the little remnant of
his shield, and taking his sword in both hands, he strook such
a notable blow that he cleft his shield, armour, and arm almost
to the bone.
But then Amphialus forgat all ceremonies, and with cruel
blows made more of his best blood succeed the rest, till his
hand being stayed by his ear, his ear filled with a pitiful cry,
the cry guided his sight to an excellent fair lady, who came
302 ARCADIA.— Book III.
running as fast as she could, and yet, because she could not
so fast as she would, she sent her lamentable voice before
her, and being come, and being known to them both to be
the beautiful Parthenia, who had that night dreamed she
saw her husband in such estate as she then found him, which
made her make such haste thither, they both marvelled.
But Parthenia ran between them, fear of love making her
forget the fear of nature, and then fell down at their feet,
determining so to part them till she could get breath to sigh
out her doleful speeches ; and when her breath, which run-
ning had spent and dismayedness made slow to return, had
by sobs gotten into her sorrow-closed breast, for a while she
could say nothing but " O wretched eyes of mine, O wail-
ful sight, O day of darkness !" At length turning her eyes,
wherein sorrow swam, to Amphialus, " My lord," said she,
" it is said you love ; in the power of that love I beseech you
to leave off this combat, as ever your heart may find comfort
in his affection, even for her sake, I crave it ; or, if you be
mortally determined, be so pitiful unto me as first to kill me,
that I may not see the death of Argalus." Amphialus was
about to have answered, when Argalus, vexed with his for-
tune, but most vexed that she should see him in that fortune,
" Ah, Parthenia," said he, " never till now unwelcome unto
me, do you come to get my life by request ? And cannot
Argalus live but by request ? Is that a life?'' With that he
went aside, for fear of hurting her, and would have begun
the combat afresh.
But Amphialus, not only conjured by that which held the
monarchy of his mind, but even in his noble heart melting
with compassion at so passionate a sight, desired him to
withhold his hands, for that he should strike one who sought
his favour, and would not make resistance. A notable ex-
ample of the wonderful effects of virtue, where the conqueror
ARCADIA.— Book III. 303
sought for friendship of the conquered, and the conquered
would not pardon the conqueror, both indeed being of that
mind to love each other for accepting, but not for giving
mercy, and neither affected to overlive a dishonour ; so that
Argalus, not so much striving with Amphialus — for if he had
had him in the hke sort, in like sort he would have dealt
with him — as labouring against his own power, which he
chiefly despised, set himself forward, stretching his strength
to the uttermost. But the fire of that strife, blown with his
inward rage, boiled out his blood in such abundance that he
was driven to rest him upon the pommel of his sword ; and
then each thing beginning to turn round in the dance of
death before his eyes, his sight both dazzled and dimmed,
till, thinking to sit down, he fell in a swound. Parthenia
and Amphialus both hastily went unto him ; Amphialus took
off his helmet, and Parthenia laid his head in her lap, tearing
off her linen sleeves and partlet* to serve about his wounds, to
bind which she took off her hair-lace, and would have cut off
her fair hair herself but that the squires and judges came in
with fitter things for the purpose, while she bewailed herself
with so lamentable sweetness as was enough to have taught
sorrow to the gladdest thoughts, and have engraved it in the
minds of hardest metal.
" O, Parthenia, no more Parthenia," said she, " what art
thou ? what seest thou ? how is thy bliss in a moment fallen !
how wert thou even now before all ladies the example of per-
fect happiness, and now the gazing-gockt of endless misery !
* Partlet — An article of dress. Minshew thinks it the diminutive
of" part ;" in the Observer, No. 39, we find it described thus : "Cut
off before by the breast-bone like -^l partlet or neckercher."
t Gazing-gock — I should read this "gazing-stock. " Goff, a north
country word, the nearest to gock — and printers may err at both ends
of a word — signifies a dull, stupid fellow.
"For to beware oi gofish people's speech."
— Chaucer, Troilus, b. iii.
304 ARCADIA.— Book III.
O God, what hath been my desert to be thus punished ? or,
if such have been my desert, why was I not in myself pun-
ished ? O wandering Hfe, to what wilderness wouldst thou
lead me ? But sorrow, I hope thou art sharp enough to save
my labour from other remedies. Argalus, Argalus, I will
follow thee, I will follow thee !"*
But with that Argalus came out of his swound, and lifting
up his languishing eyes, which a painful rest and iron sleep
did seek to lock up, seeing her in whom, even dying, he lived,
and himself seated in so beloved a place, it seemed a Httle
cheerful blood came up to his cheeks, like a burning coal
almost dead, if some breath a little revive it ; and forcing up,
the best he could, his feeble voice, " My dear, my better half,"
said he, " I find I must now leave thee ; and by that sweet
hand and fair eyes of thine, I swear that death brings nothing
with it to grieve me but that I must leave thee, and cannot
remain to answer part of thy infinite deserts with being some
comfort unto thee. But since so it pleaseth Him whose wis-
dom and goodness guideth all, put thy confidence in him,
and one day we shall blessedly meet again never to depart ;
meanwhile, live happily, dear Parthenia, and I persuade
* This tender solicitude of Parthenia for her husband is strikingly
like that of Erminia when she finds Tancred wounded and nigh death-
stricken beneath the walls of Jerusalem ; z//V/,? Fairfax's " Godfrey of
Boulogne," bk. xix. st. 1 12.
' ' From wearinesse and losse of bloode she spied
His greatest paines and anguish most proceede,
Nought but her vaile amid those desarts wide
She had to bind his wounds, in soe greate neede ;
But love could other bandes (thoughe strange) provide,
And pitie wept for joy to see that deede,
For with her amber lockes ait off, each wonnde
She tied (oh happie man, so cur'd, so bounde)."
As Tasso and Sidney were contemporaries, and employed on their
poems both about the same time, the resemblance is probably caused
by their both drawing from the same source, the old romances.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 305
myself it will increase the blessedness of my soul so to see thee.
Love well the remembrance of thy loving, and truly loving,
Argalus ; and let not" — with that word he sighed — "this dis-
grace of mine make thee one day think thou hadst an un-^
w^orthy husband." They could scarcely understand the laai
words, for death began to seize himself of his heart ; neither
could Parthenia make answer, so full was her breast of anguish.
But, while the other sought to stanch his remediless wounds,
she with her kisses made him happy, for his last breath was
delivered into her mouth.
But when indeed she found his ghost* was gone, then sor-
row lost the wit of utterance and grew rageful and mad, so
that she tare her beautiful face and rent her hair, as though
they could serve for nothing since Argalus was gone ; till
Amphialus, so moved with pity of that sight as that he
honoured his adversary's death with tears, caused her, with
the help of her woman that came with her, partly by force to
be conveyed into the boat with the dead body of Argalus,
from which she would not depart. And being come of the
other side, there she was received by Basilius himself with
all the funeral pomp of military discipline, trailing all their
ensigns upon the ground, making their warlike instruments
sound doleful notes, and Basilius, with comfort in his mouth
and woe in his face, sought to persuade some ease into Par-
thenia's mind ; but all was as easeful to her as the handling
of sore wounds, all the honour done being to her but the
triumph of her ruin, she finding no comfort but in desperate
yielding to sorrow, and rather determined to hate herself if
ever she should find ease thereof. And well might she hear
as she passed through the camp the great praises spoken of
* Ghost — Spirit. " Vnmercifully slaine and thrust vpon speares
and shaken vp in the aire, where they yeelded vp their innocent
^'^c'x^'j- in most pitiful wise." — HOLINSHED, Edwd. I. an. 1296.
X
3o6 ARCADIA.— Book III.
her husband, which all were records of her loss. But the
more excellent he was, being, indeed, accounted second to
none in all Greece, the more did the breath of those praises
^ear up the wings of Amphialus' fame, to whom yet, such
was his case, that trophy upon trophy still did but build up
the raonument of his thraldom, he ever finding himself in such
favour of Philoclea that she was most absent when he was
present with her, and ever sorriest when he had best success ;
which would have made him renounce all comfort but that
his mother, with diversity of devices, kept up his heart.
Amongst those that attended Basilius_Dametas was one,
and the bravery of Amphialus causing the contrast to be
drawn between him and Clinias, a young gentleman who was
of the camp egged Dametas on to send this challenge for
mere humour and bravado : —
" O Clinias, the wickedest worm that ever went upon two
legs, the very fritter of fraud and seething pot of iniquity :
I, Dametas, chief governor of all the royal cattle, and also of
Pamela, whom thy master most perniciously hath suggested
out of* my dominion, do defy thee in a mortal affray, from the
bodkin to the pike upward. Which if thou dost presume to
take in hand, I will out of that superfluous body of thine
make thy soul to be evacuated."
Clinias was horribly disturbed by this, and would, by his
coward blood fleeing out of his face, have betrayed himself,
* Hath stiggested out of — "Suggested" here means borne off, carried
away, or placed under. Lat. sz(g-gere, sjcggestzim, as if sub. I cannot
find the word anywhere else used in this sense. Skelton's use is
quite modern :
" Some men might aske a question
By whose sjiggestion
I toke on hande this warke,
Thus boldly for to barke."
— " Why come ye not to Court?"
ARCADIA.— Book III. 307
had not Amphialus, hoping to make sport to Philoclea,
boldly told the young gentleman who bore it that Clinias
would answer. Thereon the messenger returned to Dametas,
who had fetched many a sigh for fear Clinias should accept the
challenge. However, he began to look big and speak in a
loud voice ; and, further to insult upon Clinias, he gave order
to a painter for his device, which was a plough with the oxen
loosed from it, a sword with a great number of arms and legs
cut off, and lastly a great army of pen-and-ink horns and
books. Neither did he stick to tell the secret of his intent,
which was that he had left off the plough to do such bloody
deeds with his sword as many ink-horns and books should be
employed about the historifying of them ; and being asked
why he set no word unto it, he said that was indeed like the
painter that saith in his picture, " Here is the dog, and there
is the hare ;" and with that he laughed so perfectly as was
great consolation to the beholders. Yet, remembering that
Miso would not take it well at his return if he forgat his duty
to her, he caused in a border about to be written —
" Miso, mine own pigsnie,* thou shalt hear news of Dametas."
Thus, all things being condignly ordered, with an ill-favoured
impatience he waited until the next morning, that he might
make a muster of himself in the island, often asking them
that very diligently waited upon him whether it were not pity
that such a coward as Clinias should set his runaway feet
upon the face of the earth.
* Pigsnie — A term of endearment ; Tyrwhitt, ni his notes on
Chaucer, explains that the Romans used oadus as a term of endear-
ment, and that //^fj-;//^ means occUiLs. He quotes the "Milleres
Tale" in Chaucer. Bishop Gardner has a good example of its use :
" She was wont to chirpe him under the chin and kisse him ; how
pretely she could talk to him (how doth my swete heart, what sayth
now, pigseie ?) " Somner and Skinner derive it, with much greater
probability, from A.-S. ''piga, a little maid; we use at this day to
call such a one a //^j-;/^."
X 2
3o8 ARCADIA.— Book III.
But Amphialus having persuaded Clinias to write a bold
answer to Dametas, calling him a " filthy drivel,'' Dametas,
who was as great a coward as Clinias, would have drawn
back had his backers allowed him, but they would not, al-
though he groaned to hear the thunder of those threatenings.
And with much pressing on each side, the two at last were
brought to fight, and Clinias' horse stumbHng, Dametas,
although in mortal fear, laying about him in fearful agony,
got the victory, and the combat of cowards being finished,
Dametas was with much mirth and melody received into the
camp, never a page there failing to wait upon his triumph.
But Clinias, though he wanted heart to prevent shame, yet
he wanted not wit to feel shame, and hated Amphialus in that
he had answered Dametas' challenge. And the daily dangers
Amphialus did submit himself unto made Clinias assuredly
look for his overthrow, and for his own consecjuently if he did
not redeem his former treason to Basilius with a more trea-
sonable falsehood toward Amphialus. His chief care there-
fore was to find out among all sorts of the Amphialians, whom
either like fear, tediousness of the siege, or discontent of some
unsatisfied ambition would make apt to dig in the sam^e mine
that he did ; and some already of wealth-w:eary folks, and
unconstant youths, who had not found such sudden success
as they had promised themselves, he had made stoop to his
lure. But of none he made so good account as of Artesia,
sister to the late slain Ismenus, and the chief of the six maids
who had trained out* the princesses to their banquet of misery ;
so much did the sharpness of her wit countervail, as he
■* Trained out — From Fr. trainer, or It. tranare, to draw, to
seduce, or allure. Richardson cites from " Vncerlaine Auctors : a
Praise of Mistres R." this couplet, in which the word bears the same
sense as in the text —
" Then fineness thought by training talk to win that beauty lost,
And whet her tongue with oily words and spared for no cost."
ARCADIA.— Book III. 309
thought, any other defects of her sex ; for she had undertaken
that dangerous practice by the persuasion of Cecropia, who
assured her that the two princesses should be made away,
and then Amphialus would marry her ; which she was the
apter to believe by some false persuasion her glass had given
her of her own incomparable excellencies, and by the great
favour she knew he bare to her brother Ismenus, which, like
a self-flattering woman, she conceived was done for her sake.
But when she had achieved her attempt, and that she found
the princesses were so far from their intended death as that
the one of them was like to be her sovereign, and that neither
her service had won of Amphialus much more than ordinary
favour, nor her over-large offering herself to a mind otherwise
owed had obtained a looked-for acceptation, disdain to be
disdained, spite of a frustrate hope, and perchance unquenched
lust-grown rage, made her unquiet thoughts find no other
rest but malice, which was increased by the death of her
brother, whom she judged neither succoured against Philanax
nor revenged upon Philanax. But all these coals were well-
blown by the company she especially kept with Zelmane all
this time of her imprisonment. For, finding her presence un-
cheerful to the mourning Philoclea, and condemned of the
high-hearted Pamela, she spent her time most with Zelmane,
who, though at the first hardly brooking the instrument of
their misery, learning cunning in the school of adversity, in
time framed herself to yield her acceptable entertainment.
And when Artesia did insinuate herself into her acquaint-
ance, she gave the government of her courage to wit, and
was content to familiarize herself with her; so much the
rather as that she perceived in her certain flaws of ill-con-
cealed discontentment, insomuch that when Zelmane would
sweeten her mouth with the praises of the sisters, especially
setting forth their noble gratefulness in never forgetting well-
3IO ARCADIA.— Book III.
intended services, and invoking the justice of the gods not
to suffer such treasures to be wrongfully hidden, and some-
times with a kind unkindness charging Artesia that she had
been abused to abuse so worthy persons, Artesia, though
falsely, would protest that she had been beguiled in it, never
meaning other matter than recreation, and yet withal, by
alleging how ungratefully she was dealt with, it was easy to
be seen it was the unrewarding, and not the evil employing,
her service which grieved her. But Zelmane, using her own
bias to bowl near the mistress* of her own thoughts, was con-
tent to lend her belief, and withal, to magnify her desert, if
willingly she would deliver whom unwillingly she had im-
prisoned, leaving no argument which might tickle ambition
or flatter revenge ; so that Artesia, pushed forward by Clinias,
and drawn onward by Zelmane, bound herself to that practice,
wherein Zelmane, for her part, desired no more but to have
armour and weapons brought into her chamber, not doubting
therewith to perform anything, how impossible soever, which
longing love can persuade, and invincible valour dare promise.
But Clinias, whose faith could never comprehend the
mysteries of courage, persuaded Artesia, while he by cor-
ruption had drawn the guard of one gate to open if, when he
would appoint the time, to the enemy, that she should im-
poison Amphialus, which she might the easier do, because
she herself had used to make the broths when Amphialus,
either wearied or wounded, did use such diet. And all things
already were ready to be put in execution, when they thought
best to break the matters with the two excellent sisters, not
doubting of their consent in a thing so behootful to them-
* Bowl neai' the ttiisfress — A simile taken from the early game of
bowls. The small ball now called the Jack was in Sidney's time
called the mistress. The bowls are said to kiss when they touch
gently. So Shak. Troilus and Cressida, iii. 2 : "Rub on, and kiss
the mistress,^^
ARCADIA.— Book III. 311
selves ; their reasons being that the princesses, knowing their
service, might be sure to preserve them from the fury of the
entering soldiers, whereof Clinias, even so, could scarcely
be sufficiently certain ; and, withal, making them privy to
their action to bind them afterwards to a promised grateful-
ness 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 few words, did set forth
what an exploit was intended for her service. But Philoclea,
in whose clear mind treason could find no hiding-place, told
him that she would be glad if he could persuade her cousin
to deliver her, and that she would never forget his service
therein ; but that she desired him to lay down any such way
of mischief, for that, for her part, she would rather yield to
perpetual imprisonment than consent to the destroying her
cousin, who, she knew, loved her, though wronged her. This
unlooked-for answer amazed Chnias, so that he had no other
remedy in his mind but to kneel down to Philoclea and
beseech her to keep it secret, considering that the intention
was for her service ; and vowing, since she misliked it, to
proceed no further therein, she comforted him with promise
of silence, which she performed.
But that little availed ; for Artesia, having in like sort
opened this device to Pamela, she, in whose mind virtue
governed with the sceptre of knowledge, hating so horrible a
wickedness, and straightjudging what was fit to do, "Wicked
woman," said she, "whose unrepenting heart can find no way
to amend treason but by treason, now the time is come that
thy wretched wiles have caught thyself in thine own tiet :
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 liberty." This she spake something with a
louder voice than she was wont to use, so as Cecropia heard
312 ARCADIA.— Book III.
the noise, who was, sooner than Artesia imagined she would,
come up to bring Pamela to a window, where she might see
a notable skirmish happened in the camp, as she thought
among themselves ; and being a cunning fisher in troubled
waters, straight found by their voices and gestures there was
some matter of consequence, which she desired Pamela to tell
her. " Ask of her," said Pamela ; " and learn to know that
who do falsehood to their superiors teach falsehood to their
inferiors." More she would not say ; but Cecropia, taking
away the each-way guilty Artesia, with fear of torture gat of
her the whole practice ; so as Zelmane was the more closely
imprisoned, and Clinias, with the rest of his corrupted mates,
according to their merits, executed. For, as for Artesia, she
was but locked up in her chamber, Amphialus not consenting,
for the love he bare to Ismenus, that further punishment
should be laid upon her.
But the noise they heard in the camp was by occasion of
the famous Prince Anaxius, nephew to the giant Euardes,
whom Pyrocles slew ; a prince of body exceeding strong,
in arms so skilful and fortunate as no man was thought to
excel him, of courage that knew not how to fear, of parts
worthy praise, if they had not been guided by pride and fol-
lowed by unjustice. For, by a strange composition of mind,
there was no man more tenderly sensible in anything offered
to himself which, in the farthest-fet construction, might be
wrested to the name of wrong ; no man that in his own
actions could worse distinguish between valour and violence;
so proud as he could not abstain from a Thraso-like boasting,
and yet, so unlucky a lodging his virtues had gotten, he would
never boast more than he would accomplish ; falsely account-
ing an inflexible anger a courageous constancy ; esteeming
fear and astonishment righter causes of admiration than
love and honour. This man had four sundry times fought
ARCADIA.— Book III. 313
with Amphialus, but Mars had been so unpartial an arbiter
that neither side gate advantage of the other. But in the
end it happened that Anaxius found Amphialus (unknown)
in a great danger, and saved his hfe, whereupon, loving his
own benefit, began to favour him, so much the more as, think-
ing so well of himself, he could not choose but like him, whom
he found a match for himself, which at last grew to as much
friendship towards him as could by a proud heart be con-
ceived. So as in this travel, seeking Pyrocles to be revenged
of his uncle's death, hearing of this siege, never taking pains
to examine the quarrel, like a man whose will was his God,
and his hand his law, taking with him his two brothers, men
accounted little inferior to himself in martial rhatters, and two
hundred chosen horsemen, with whom he thought himself able
to conquer the world, yet commanding the rest of his forces
to follow, he himself upon such an unexpected suddenness
entered in upon the back of Basilius, that many with great
unkindness took their death, not knowing why nor how
they were so murthered. But the valiant and faithful
Philanax, with well-governed speed, made such head against
him as would have showed how soon courage falls in the
ditch which hath not the eye of wisdom, but that Amphialus
at the same time issued out, and winning with an abundance
of courage one of the sconces'* which Basilius had builded,
made way for his friend Anaxius, with great loss of both
sides, but especially of the Basilians ; such notable monu-
ments had those two swords especially left of their masters'
redoubted worthiness.
There, with the respect fit to his estate, the honour due to
his worthiness, and the kindness which accompanies friend-
ship, made fast by interchanged benefits, did Amphialus
* Sconces — Small forts or bulwarks to defend a pass or river;
"where I would haue left my boates, to haue raised a sconse y^'iih. small
trench, and a pallisado vpon top of it." — Hakluyt's Voyages, vol. iii.
314 ARCADIA.— Book III,
enforce himself, as much as in a besieged town he could, to
make Anaxius know that his succour was not so needful as
his presence grateful. For, causing the streets and houses
of the town to witness his welcome, making both soldiers
and magistrates in their countenances to show their gladness
of him, he led him to his mother, whom he besought to
entertain him with no less love and kindness than as one
who once had saved her son's life, and now came to save
both Kfe and honour. " Tush !" said Anaxius, speaking
aloud, looking upon his brothers, " I am only sorry there are
not half a dozen kings more about you, that what Anaxius
can do might be the better manifested." His brothers
smiled, as though he had over-modestly spoken, far under-
neath the pitch of his power. Then was he disarmed at the
earnest request of Amphialus ; for Anaxius boiled with desire
to issue out upon the enemies, persuading himself that the
sun should not be set before he had overthrown them. That
night, when supper was ended, wherein Amphialus would
needs himself wait upon him, he caused in boats upon the
lake an excellent music to be ordered, which, though Anaxius
might conceive was for his honour, yet, indeed, he was but
the brick wall to convey it to the ears of the beloved Philo-
clea. But Anaxius, seeming aweary before it was ended,
told Amphialus that, for his part, he liked no music but the
neighing of horses, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of
yielding persons, and therefore desired that the next morning
they should issue upon the same place where they had entered
that day, not doubting to make them quickly aweary of being
the besiegers of Anaxius. Amphialus, who had no whit less
courage, though nothing blown up with pride, willingly con-
descended ; and so, the next morning, giving false alarum to
the other side of the camp (Amphialus, at Anaxius' earnest
request, staying within the town to see it guarded), Anaxius
ARCADIA.— Book III. 315
and his brethren Lycurgus and Zoilus sallied out with the
best chosen men. But Basilius, having been the last day
somev/hat unprovided, now had better fortified the overthrown
sconce, and so well had prepared everything for defence that
it was impossible for any valour from without to prevail.
Yet things were performed by Anaxius beyond the credit of
the credulous ; for thrice, valiantly followed by his brothers,
did he set up his banner upon the rampier of the enemy,
though thrice, again, by the multitude, and advantage of the
place, but especially by the coming of three valiant knights,
he were driven down again.
But so far had Anaxius at the third time prevailed that
now the Basilians began to let their courage descend to their
feet, BasiHus and Philanax in vain striving with reverence of
authority to bridle the flight of astonishment, and to teach
fear discretion ; so that Amphialus, seeing victory show such
a flattering countenance to him, came out with all his force,
hoping that day to end the siege.
But that fancy altered quickly by the sudden coming to
the other side of three knights, whereof the one was in white
armour, the other in green, and the third by his black armour
and device straight known to be the notable knight who the
first day had given fortune so short a stop with his notable
deeds, fighting hand to hand with the deemed invincible
Amphialus. For the very cowards no sooner saw him but, as
borrowing some of his spirit, they went like young eagles
to the prey under the wing of their dam. For the three
adventurers, not content to keep them from their rampier,
leaped down among them and entered into a brave combat
with the three valiant brothers. But to whether* side fortune
* Whether — Used here for "which;" "whether daughter,"
"whether side," "which daughter" and "which side." ''^Whether
hii be saf other nat saf " is met with in " Piers Ploughman," p. 240.
3i6 ARCADIA.— Book III.
would have been partial could not be determined ; for the
Basilians, lightened with the beams of their strangers' valour,
followed so thick that the Amphialians were glad with some
haste to retire to the walls-ward, though Anaxius neither
reason, fear, nor example could make him assuage the fury
of his fight, until one of the Basilians (unworthy to have his
name registered, since he did it cowardly), sideward, when he
least looked that way, almost cut off one of his legs, so as he
fell down, blaspheming heaven that all the influences thereof
had power to overthrow him ; and there death would have
seized of his proud heart, but that Amphialus took in hand
the black knight while some of his soldiers conveyed away
Anaxius, so requiting life for life unto him.
And, for the love and example of Amphialus, the fight
began to enter into a new fit of heat, when Basilius (that
thought enough to be done for that day) caused retreat to be
sounded, fearing lest his men, following over-earnestly, might
be the loss of those excellent knights, whom he desired to
know. The knights, as soon as they heard the retreat,
though they were eagerly set, knowing that courage without
discipline is nearer beastliness than manhood, drew back
their swords, though hungry of more blood, especially the
black knight, who, knowing Amphialus, could not refrain to
tell him that this was the second time he escaped out of his
hands, but that he would shortly bring him a bill of all the
former accounts. Amphialus seeing it fit to retire also, most
of his people being hurt, both in bodies and hearts, withdrew
himself with so well-seated a resolution that it was as far
from anger as from dismayedness, answering no other to the
black knight's threats but that, when he brought him his
account, he should find a good paymaster.
The fight being ceased, and each side withdrawn within
their strengths, Basilius sent Philanax to entertain the
ARCADIA.-Book III. 317
strange knights, and to bring them unto him, that he might
acknowledge what honour was due to their virtue. But they
excused themselves, desiring to be known first by their deeds
before their names should accuse their unworthiness ; and,
though the other replied according as they deserved, yet,
finding that unwelcome courtesy is a degree of injury, he
suffered them to retire themselves to a tent of their own
without the camp, where they kept themselves secret,
Philanax himself being called away to another strange
knight — strange not only by the unlooked-for-ness of his
coming, but by the strange manner of his coming ; for he
had before him four damosels, and so many behind him, all
upon palfreys, and all apparelled in mourning weeds ; each
of them a servant of each side, with like liveries of sorrow ;
himself in an armour all painted over with such a cunning
of shadow that it represented a gaping sepulchre ; the furni-
ture of his horse was all of cypress branches, wherewith in
old time they w^ere wont to dress graves. The word was,
" No way to be rid from Death but by Death."
This Knight of the Tomb — for so the soldiers termed him
— sent to Basilius to demand leave to send in a damosel into
the town to call out Amphialus, according as beforetime
some others have done ; which being granted, as glad
any would undertake the charge, which nobody else in that
camp was known willing to do, the damosel went in ; and,
having with tears sobbed out a brave challenge to Amphia-
lus from the Knight of the Tomb, Amphialus, honourably
entertaining the gentlewoman, and desiring to know the
knight's name, which the doleful gentlewoman would not
discover, accepted the challenge, only desiring the gentle-
woman to say thus much to the strange knight from him,
that, if his mind were like to his title, there were more
cause of affinity than enmity between them. And, therefore.
3i8 ARCADIA.— Book III.
presently, according as he was wont, as soon as he perceived
the Knight of the Tomb, with his damosels and judge, was
come into the island, he also went over in accustomed man-
ner, and yet, for the courtesy of his nature, desired to speak
with him.
But the Knight of the Tomb, with silence, and drawing
his horse back, showed no will to hear nor speak, but, with
lance on thigh, made him know it was fit for him to go to
the other end of the career, whence, waiting the start of the
unknown knight, he likewise made his spurs claim haste of
his horse. But, when his staff was in his rest, coming down
to meet with the knight, now very near him, he perceived
the knight had missed his rest; wherefore the courteous
Amphialus would not let his lance descend, but with a gallant
grace ran over the head of his therein friended enemy ; and
having stopped his horse, and with running of him blessed
his sight with the window where he thought Philoclea might
stand, he perceived the knight had lighted from his horse and
thrown away his staff, angry with his misfortune as of having
missed his rest, and drawn his sword to make that supply his
fellow's fault. He also lighted and drew his sword, esteeming
victory with advantage rather robbed than purchased ; and
so, the other coming eagerly toward him, he, with his shield
out and sword aloft, with more bravery than anger, drew unto
him, and straight made their swords speak for them a pretty
while with equal fierceness. But Amphialus, to whom the
earth brought forth few matches, having both much more
skill to choose the places and more force to work upon the
chosen, had already made many windows in his armour for
death to come in at, when, in the nobleness of his nature
abhorring to make the punishment overgo the offence, he
stepped a little back, and withal, "Sir knight," said he, "you
may easily see that it pleaseth God to favour my cause ;
ARCADIA.— Book III. 319
employ your valour against them that wish you hurt, for my
part, I have not deserved hate of you." " Thou liest, false
traitor !" said the other, with an angry but weak voice. But
Amphialus, in whom abused kindness became spiteful rage,
" Ah, barbarous wretch !" said he, " only courageous in dis-
courtesy, thou shalt soon see whether thy tongue hath betrayed
thy heart or no ;" and with that, redoubling his blows, gave
him a great wound upon his neck, and closing with him over-
threw him, and in the fall thrust him mortally into the body,
and with that went to pull off his helmet with intention to
make him give himself the lie for having so said, or to cut
off his head.
But the headpiece was no sooner off but that there fell about
the shoulders of the overcome knight the treasure of fair
golden hair, which, with the face, soon known by the badge
of excellency, witnessed that it was Parthenia, the unfortu-
nately virtuous wife of Argalus ; her beauty then, even in de-
spite of the passed sorrow, or coming death, assuring all
beholders that it was nothing short of perfection. For her
exceeding fair eyes having with continual weeping gotten a
little redness about them ; her roundy, sweetly-swelling lips
a little trembling, as though they kissed their neighbour
Death ; in her cheeks, the whiteness striving, by little and
little, to get upon the rosiness of them ; her neck — a neck in-
deed of alablaster* — displaying the wound which with most
dainty blood laboured to drown his own beauties ; so as here
* Alablaster—T\(\i word (Gr. "AXd^aaTpov, from o and \al3eiu) in
the original is thus spelt. In vulgar parlance it is now occasionally
to be met with, although those who use it are ignorant that they have
good authority on their side. Mikon, a precisian in such matters,
has "alablaster" (P. L. iv. 544); so, too, has Spenser (F. Q. II.
xii. 77); and in other of our old writers it is not uncommon. This
form ojf the word has been overlooked by Richardson, who cites
Wiclif, the Bible of 1539, and Chaucer as using a/adastre or alabaster,
our present form.
320 ARCADIA.— Book TIL
was a river of purest red, there an island of perfectest white,
each giving lustre to the other, with the sweet counten-
ance, God knows, full of an unaffected languishing ; though
these things, to a grossly conceiving sense, might seem dis-
graces, yet indeed were they but appareUing beauty in a new
fashion, which all looking upon through the spectacles of
pity, did even increase the lines of her natural fairness, so
as Amphialus was astonished with grief, compassion, and
shame, detesting his fortune that made him unfortunate in
victory.
Therefore, putting off his headpiece and gauntlet, kneeling
down unto her, and with tears testifying his sorrow, he
offered his, by himself accursed, hands to help her, protesting
his life and power to be ready to do her honour. But Parthenia,
who had inward messengers of the desired death's approach,
looking upon him, and straight turning away her feeble sight,
as from a delightless object, drawing out her words, which
her breath, loth to depart from so sweet a body, did faintly
deliver, " Sir," said she, " 1 pray you, if prayers have place
in enemies, to let my maids take my body untouched by you:
the only honour I now desire by your means is, that I have
no honour of you. Argalus made no such bargain with you:
that the hands which killed him should help me. I have of
them — and I do not only pardon you, but thank you for it— the
service which I desired. There rests nothing now but that
I go live with him since whose death I have done nothing
but die." Then pausing, and a little fainting, and again
coming to herself, " Oh, sweet life, welcome," said she ; " now
feel I the bands untied of the cruel death which so long hath
held me. And, O life, O death, answer for me, that my
thoughts have, not so much as in a dream, tasted any comfort
since they were deprived of Argalus. I come, my Argalus,
I come ! And, O God, hide my faults in thy mercies, and
ARCADIA.— Book III. yi\
grant, as I feel thou dost grant, that in thy eternal love we
may love each other eternally. And this, O Lord ," but
there Atropos cut off her sentence ; for with that, casting up
both eyes and hands to the skies, the noble soul departed,
one might well assure himself, to heaven, which left the body
in so heavenly a demeanour.
But Amphialus, with a heart oppressed with grief, because
of her request, withdrew himself ; but the judges, as full of
pity, had been all this while disarming her, and her gentle-
women, with lamentable cries, labouring to stanch the reme-
diless wounds; and a while she was dead before they perceived
it, death being able to divide the soul, but not the beauty,
from the body. But when the infallible tokens of death
assured them of their loss, one of the women would have
killed herself, but that the squire of Amphialus, perceiving, by
force held her. Others that had as strong passion, though
weaker resolution, fell to cast dust upon their heads, to tear
their garments, all falling upon the earth and crying upon
their sweet mistress, as if their cries could persuade the soul
to leave the celestial happiness, to come again into the ele-
ments of sorrow ; one time calling to remembrance her virtue,
chasteness, sweetness, goodness to them ; another time ac-
cursing themselves, that they had obeyed her, being deceived
by her words, who assured them that it was revealed unto
her that she should have her heart's desire in the battle against
Amphialus, which they wrongly understood. Then kissing
her cold hands and feet, weary of the world since she was
gone who was their world, the very heavens seemed with a
cloudy countenance to lower at the loss, and fame itself,
though by nature glad to tell such rare accidents, yet could
not choose but deliver it in lamentable accents, and in such
sort went it quickly all over the camp ; and, as if the air had
been infected with sorrow, no heart was so hard but was
Y
322 ARCADIA.— Book IIL
subject to that contagion ; the rareness of the accident
matching together the rarely matched together — pity with
admiration. BasiHus himself came forth, and brought the
fair Gynecia with him, who was come into the camp under
colour of visiting her husband and hearing of her daughters ;
but indeed Zelmane was the saint to which her pilgrimage
was intended ; cursing, envying, blessing, and, in her heart,
kissing the walls which imprisoned her. But both they, with
Philanax and the rest of the principal nobility, went out to
make honour triumph over death, conveying that excellent
body, whereto Basilius himself would needs lend his shoulder,
to a church a mile from the camp, where the valiant Argalus
lay intombed, recommending to that sepulchre the blessed
relics of a faithful and virtuous love, giving order for the
making of two marble images to represent them, and each
way enriching the tomb ; upon which BasiHus himself caused
this epitaph* to be written : —
The Epitaph.
His being was in her alone ;
And he not being, she was none.
They joy'd one joy, one grief they griev'd,
One love they lov'd, one life they liv'd.
The hand was one, one was the sword
That did his death, her death afford.
As all the rest, so now the stone
That tombs the two is justly one.
Argalus and Parthenia.
* In sweetness and fitness this quaint epitaph is surpassed by none
in the English language ; in terseness only by this its parallel, upon
the death of Sir Albert Morton's wife : —
" He first deceas'd ; she for a little tri'd
To live without him ; lik'd it not, and di'd. — H. W."
From the "Reliquiae Wottonianse," by the curious pencil of the
ever memorable Sir Henry Wotton, Kt.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 323
Then, with eyes full of tears, and mouths full of their
praises, returned they to the camp with more and more hate
against Amphialus, who, poor gentleman, had therefore
greater portion of woe than any of them. For that courteous
heart, which would have grieved but to have heard the like ad-
venture, was rent with remembering himself to be the author,
so that his wisdom could not so far temper his passion but
that he took his sword, counted the best in the world, which
with much blood he had once conquered of a mighty giant,
and brake it into many pieces, which afterwards he had good
cause to repent, saying that neither it was worthy to serve
the noble exercise of chivalry, nor any other worthy to feel
that sword which had stricken so excellent a lady ; and withal,
banishing all cheerfulness of his countenance, he returned
home, where he gat him to his bed, not so much to rest his
restless mind as to avoid all company, the sight whereof was
tedious unto him. And then rnelancholy, only rich in un-
fortunate 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 misery.
" Did ever man's eye," he cried, " look through love upon
the majesty of virtue, shining through beauty, but that he
became, as it well became him, a captive ? and is it the style
of a captive to write — Our will and pleasure ?"
" Tush, tush, son," said Cecropia, " you say you love, but
withal you fear : you fear lest you should offend. Offend 1
and how know you that you should offend — because she
doth deny ? Deny ? now, by my truth, if your sadness would
let me laugh, I could laugh heartily, to see that yet you are
ignorant that ' No ' is no negative in a woman's mouth. My son,
believe me, a woman, speaking of women, a lover's modesty
among us is much more praised than liked ; or, if we like it,
so well we like it that for marring of his modesty he shall
Y 2
324 ARCADIA.— Book III.
never proceed further. Each virtue hath his time. Think
she would not strive but that she means to try thy force ; and,
my Amphialus, know thyself a man, and show thyself a
man, and believe me upon my word, a woman is a woman."
Amphialus was about to answer her, when a gentleman of his
brought him a letter from the camp, importing this : —
" To THEE Amphialus of Arcadia, the Forsaken Knight
wisheth health and courage, that by my hand thou mayest
receive punishment for thy treason, according to thine own
offer, which, wickedly occasioned, thou hast proudly begun
and accursedly maintained. I will presently, if thy mind
faint thee not for his own guiltiness, meet thee in thy island,
in such order as hath by the former been used ; or, if thou
likest not the time, place, or weapon, I am ready to take
thine own reasonable choice in any of them, so as thou do
perform the substance. Make me such answer as may show
that thou hast some taste of honour ; and so I leave thee to
live till I meet thee."
Amphialus read it, and, with a deep sigh, according to the
humour of inward affliction, seemed even to condemn himself,
as though indeed his reproaches were true. But, howsoever
the dulness of melancholy would have languishingly yielded
thereunto, his courage, unused to such injuries, desired help
of anger to make him this answer : —
" Forsaken Knight, though your nameless challenge
might carry in itself excuse for a man of my birth and estate,
yet herein set your heart at rest — you shall not be forsaken.
I will, without stay, answer you in the wonted manner, and
come both armed in your foolish threatenings, and yet the
more fearless, expecting weak blows where I find so strong
words. You shall not therefore long attend me in the island
ARCADIA.— Book III. 325
before proof teach you that of my hfe you have made your-
self too large a promise. In the meantime, farewell."
This being written and delivered, the messenger told him
that his lord would, if he liked the same, bring two knights
with him to be his patrons.*' Which Amphialus accepted ;
and withal shaking off with resolution his mother's importu-
nate dissuasions, he furnished himself for the fight, but not
in his wonted furniture. For now, as if he would turn his
inside outward, he would needs appear all in black. In his
crest he carried Philoclea's knives, the only token of her
forced favour. So passed he over into the island, taking with
him the two brothers of Anaxius, where he found the Forsaken
Knight attired in his own livery, as black as sorrow itself
could see itself in the blackest glass. Their very horses
were coal-black too, not having so much as one star to give
light to their night of blackness, so as one would have
thought they had been the two sons of sorrow, and were
come thither to fight for their birthright in that sorry inherit-
ance. Which alliance of passions so moved Amphialus,
already tender-minded by the afflictions of love, that, without
staff or sword drawn, he trotted fairly to the Forsaken Knight,
willing to have put off this combat, to which his melancholy
heart did, more than ever in like occasion, misgive him ; and
therefore saluting him, " Good knight," said he, " because we
are men, and should know reason why we do things, tell me
the cause that makes you thus eager to fight with me."
" Because I affirm," answered the Forsaken Knight, " that
thou dost most rebellious injury to those ladies to whom all
men owe service." "You shall not fight with me," said
Amphialus, " upon the quarrel, for I confess the same too,
* Patrons — A patron is one who supports or aids the cause of
another ; in this place used to signify a second. I can find no other
instance of its use in this sense.
326 ARCADIA.— Book II L
but it proceeds from their own beauty to enforce love to offer
this force." " I maintain, then," said the Forsaken Knight,
" that thou art not worthy so to love." " And that I confess
too," said Amphialus, " since the world is not so richly
blessed as to bring forth anything worthy thereof But no
more unworthy than any other, since in none can be a more
worthy love." " Yes, more unworthy than myself," said the
Forsaken Knight ; " for, though I deserve contempt, thou
deservest both contempt and hatred."
But Amphialus, by that thinking, though wrongly — each
indeed mistaking other — that he was his rival, forgat all mind
of reconciliation, and, having all his thoughts bound up in
choler, never staying either judge, trumpet, or his own
lance, drew out his sword, and saying, " Thou liest, false
villain !" unto him, his words and blows came so quick
together as. the one seemed a lightning of the other's thunder.
But he found no barren ground of such seed, for it yielded
him his own with such increase that, though reason and
amazement go rarely together, yet the most reasonable eyes
that saw it found reason to be amazed at the fury of their
combat. Never game of death better played, never fury set
itself forth in greater bravery-. Spite, rage, disdain, shame,
revenge, came waiting upon hatred ; of the other side came,
with love-longing desire, both invincible hope and fearless de-
spair. Of either side confidence, unacquainted with loss, but
assuring trust to overcome, and good experience how to
overcome ; now seconding their terrible blows with cunning
labouring their horses to win ground of the enemy, now
unlooked-for parting one from the other to win advantage
by an advantageous return. But force against force, skill
against skill, so interchangeably encountered that it was not
easy to determine whether enterprising or preventing came
former ; both, sometimes at one instant, doing and suffering
ARCADIA.— Book III. 327
wrong, and choler no less rising of the doing than of the
suffering. But as the fire, the more fuel is put to it the more
hungry still it is to devour more, so the more they strake
the more unsatisfied they were with striking. And so a long
space they fought, while neither virtue nor fortune seemed
partial of either side, which so tormented the unquiet heart of
Amphialus that he resolved to see a quick end ; and there-
fore, with the violence of courage adding strength to his
blow, he strake in such wise upon the side of the other's
head that his remembrance left that battered lodging. And
Amphialus used the favour of occasion, redoubling his blows,
but the horse, weary to be beaten, as well as the master,
carried his master away till he came to himself.
But then who could have seen him might well have discerned
shame in his cheeks and revenge in his eyes, so as, setting
his teeth together with rage, he came running upon Am-
phialus, reaching out his arm, which had gathered up his
sword, meaning with that blow to have cleaved Amphialus in
two. But Amphialus, seeing the blow coming, shunned it
with nimble turning his horse aside ; wherewith the Forsaken
Knight overstrake himself so as almost he came down with his
own strength ; but the more hungry of his purpose the more
he was barred the food of it. Disdaining the resistance both
of force and fortune, he returned upon the spur again, and
ran with such violence upon Amphialus that his horse, with
the force of the shock, rose up before, almost overturned,
which Amphialus perceiving, with rein and spur put forth
his horse, and withal gave a mighty blow in the descent of
his horse upon the shoulder of the Forsaken Knight, from
whence sliding, it fell upon the neck of his horse, so as horse
and man fell to the ground ; but he was scarce down before
he was up on his feet again, with brave gesture showing
rising of courage in the falling of fortune. But the courteous
328 ARCADIA.— Book III.
Amphialus excused himself for having, against his will, killed
his horse.* " Excuse thyself for viler faults," answered the
Forsaken Knight, "and use this poor advantage the best thou
canst ; for thou shalt quickly find thou hast need of more."
" Thy folly," said Amphialus, " shall not make me forget
myself ;" and therewith, trotting a little aside, alighted from
his horse, because he would not have fortune come to claim
any part of the victory. Which courteous act would have
mollified the noble heart of the Forsaken Knight if any other
had done it besides the jailer of his mistress ; but that was
a sufficient defeasancef for the firmest bond of good-nature ;
and therefore he was no sooner alighted but that he ran
unto him, re-entering into as cruel a fight as eye did ever see
or thought could reasonably imagine — far beyond the reach
of weak words to be able to express it : for what they had
done on horseback was but as a morsel to keep their stomachs
in appetite in comparison of that which now, being them-
selves, they did.
Amphialus, being the taller man, for the most part stood
with his right leg before, his shield at the uttermost length
of his arm, his sword high, but with the point toward his
enemy. But, when he strake — which came so thick as if
every blow would strive to be foremost — his arm seemed still
a postillion of death. The Forsaken Knight showed with like
skill unlike gesture, keeping himself in continual motion,
proportioning the distance between them to anything that
Amphialus attempted ; his eye guided his foot, and his foot
conveyed his hand : and, since nature had made him some-
* Killed his horse — It was against the laws of Chivalry to kill the
horse of an adversary in single combat.
t Defeasance — (Fr, defaire) Defeat, undoing.
" Being arrived where that champion stout
After his foes defeasance did remaine."
— Spenser, Faerie Queene, I. xii. 12.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 329
thing the lower of the two, he made art follow, and not strive
with nature ; shunning rather than warding his blows, like a
cunning mastiff who knows the sharpness of the horn and
strength of the bull, fights low to get his proper advantage,
answering mightiness with nimbleness, and yet at times em-
ploying his wonderful force, wherein he was second to none.
In sum, the blows were strong, the thrusts thick, and the
avoidings cunning. But the Forsaken Knight, that thought it
a degree of being conquered to be long in conquering, strake
him so mighty a blow that he made Amphialus put knee to
the ground without any humbleness. But, when he felt him-
self stricken down, and saw himself stricken down by his
rival, then shame seemed one arm, and disdain another ;
fury in his eyes, and revenge in his heart ; skill and force
gave place, and they took the place of skill and force with so
unweariable a manner that the Forsaken Knight also was
driven to leave the stern of cunning, and give himself wholly
to be guided by the storm of fury, there being in both, be-
cause hate would not suffer admiration, extreme disdain to
find themselves so matched.
" What !" said Amphialus to himself, " am I Amphialus,
before whom so many monsters and giants have fallen dead
when I only fought causeless adventures ; and can one
knight now withstand me in the presence of Philoclea, and
fighting for Philoclea ? or, since I lost my liberty, have I lost
my courage ; have I gotten the heart of a slave as well as
the fortune ? If an army were against me in the sight of
Philoclea, could it resist me T Of the other side, the For-
saken Knight, with no less spite, fell out with himself. " Hast
thou broken," said he to himself, " the commandment of thy
only princess, to come now into her presence, and in her
presence to prove thyself a coward ? O incomparable
Pyrocles, more grieved wilt thou be with thy friend's shame
330 ARCADIA.— Book III.
than with thine own imprisonment, when thou shalt know
how httle I have been able to do for the dehvery of thee and
those heavenly princesses. Am I worthy to be friend to the
most valorous prince that ever was intituled valorous, and
show myself so weak a wretch? No, shamed Musidorus,
worthy for nothing but to keep sheep : get thee a sheephook
again, since thou canst use a sword no better."
Thus at times did they, now with one thought, then with
another, sharpen their over-sharp humours, like the lion that
beats himself with his own tail to make himself the more
angry. These thoughts indeed not staying but whetting
their angry swords, which now had put on the apparel of
cruelty, they bleeding so abundantly that everybody that
saw them fainted for them, and yet they fainted not in them-
selves, their smart being more sensible to other's eyes than to
their own feeling ; wrath and courage barring the common
sense from bringing any message of their case to the mind,
pain, weariness, and weakness not daring to make known
their case, though already in the limits of death, in the
presence of so violent fury, which, filling the veins with
rage instead of blood, and making the mind minister spirits
to the body, a great while held out their fight, like an arrow
shot upward by the force of the bow, though by his own
nature he would go downward. The Forsaken Knight had
the more wounds, but Amphialus had the sorer, which the
other, watching time and place, had cunningly given unto
him. Whoever saw a well-manned galley fight with a tall
ship might make unto himself some kind of comparison of
the difference of these two knights, a better couple than
which the world could not brag of. Amphialus seemed to
excel in strength, the Forsaken Knight in nimbleness ; and
yet did the one's strength excel in nimbleness, and the other's
nimbleness excel in strength ; but now strength and nimbleness
ARCADIA.— Book III. 331
were both gone, and excess of courage only maintained the
fight. Three times had Amphialus, with his mighty blows,
driven the Forsaken Knight to go staggering backward, but
every one of those times he requited pain with smart, and
shame v/ith repulse, only that he should be the later to die,
which hope hate, as unsecret as love, could not conceal, but
drawing himself a little back from him, brake out into these
manner of words : —
" Ah, Amphialus," said the Forsaken Knight, " this third
time thou shalt not escape me, but thy death shall satisfy thy
injury and my malice, and pay for the cruelty thou showedst
in killing the noble Argalus and the fair Parthenia." " In
troth," said Amphialus, " thou art the best knight that ever I
fought withal, which would make me willing to grant thee thy
life if thy wit were as good as thy courage, that, besides
other follies, layest that to my charge which most against my
will was committed. But whether my death be in thy power
or no, let this tell thee ;" and upon the word waited a blow,
which parted his shield into two pieces, and, despising the
weak resistance of his already broken armour, made a great
breach into his heart side, as if he would make a passage for
his love to get out at.
But pain rather seemed to increase life than to weaken
life in those champions ; for the Forsaken Knight, coming
in with his right leg, and making it guide the force of the
blow, strake Amphialus upon the belly so horrible a wound
that his guts came out withal ; which Amphialus perceiving,
fearing death only because it should come with overthrow, he
seemed to conjure all his strength for one moment's service ;
and so, hfting up his sword with both hands, hit the Forsaken
Knight upon the head a blow wherewith his sword brake. But,
as if it would do a notable service before it died, it prevailed
so even in the instant of breaking that the Forsaken Knight
332 ARCADIA.— Book III.
fell to the ground, quite for that instant forgetting both love
and hatred ; and Amphialus, finding himself also in such
weakness as he looked for speedy death, glad of the victory,
though little hoping to enjoy it, pulled up his visor, meaning
with his dagger to give him death ; but, instead of death, he
gave him life ; for the air so revived his spirits that, coming to
himself, and seeing his present danger, with a life conquering
death, he took Amphialus by the thigh, and together rose him-
self and overturned him. But Amphialus scrambled up again,
both now so weak indeed as their motions rather seemed the
after-drops to a storm than any matter of great fury.
But Amphialus might repent himself of his wilful breaking
his good sword ; for the Forsaken Knight, having with the
extremity of justly-conceived hate, and the unpitifulness of
his own near-threatening death, blotted out all complements
of courtesy, let fly at him so cruelly, that, though the blows
were weak, yet weakness upon a weakened subject proved
such strength that Amphialus, having attempted in vain once
or twice to close with him, receiving wound upon wound, sent
his whole burthen to strike the earth with falling, since he
could strike his foe no better in standing, giving no other
tokens of himself than as of a man even ready to take his
oath to be death's true servant.
Which when the hardy brothers of Anaxius perceived, not
recking law of arms nor use of chivalry, they flew in to defend
their friend or revenge their loss of him. But they were forth-
with encountered with the two brave companions of the For-
saken Knight, whereof the one being all in green, both armour
and furniture, it seemed a pleasant garden wherein grew
orange-trees, which, with their golden fruits cunningly beaten
in and embroidered, greatly enriched the eye-pleasing colour
of green. In his shield was a sheep feeding in a pleasant
field, with this word, " Without fear or envy ;" and therefore
ARCADIA.— Book III. 333
was called the Knight of the Sheep. The other knight was all
in milk-white, his attiring else all cut in stars, which, made of
cloth of silver and silver spangles, each way seemed to cast
many aspects. His device was the very pole itself, about
which many stars stirring, but the place itself left void ; the
word was, " The best place yet reserved." But these four
knights, inheriting the hate of their friends, began a most
fierce combat ; the Forsaken Knight himself not able to help
his side, but was driven to sit him down with the extreme
faintness of his more and more fainting body. But those
valiant couples, seeking honour by dishonouring, and to build
safety upon ruin, gave new appetites to the almost glutted
eyes of the beholders ; and now blood began to put sweat from
the full possession of their outsides, no advantage being yet
to be seen, only the Knight of the Sheep seeming most
deliver,* and affecting most of all that viewed him, when a
company of soldiers, sent by Cecropia, came out in boats to
the island, and all came running to the destruction of the three
knights, whereof one was utterly unable to defend himself.
But then did the other two knights show their wonderful
courage and fidelity ; for, turning back to back, and both
bestriding the black Forsaken Knight, who had fainted so
long till he had lost the feeling of faintness, they held- play
against the rest, though the two brothers unknightly helped
them ; till Philanax, who watchfully attended such traitorous
practices, sent likewise over, both by boat and swimming, so
choice a number as did put most of the other to the sword ;
only the two brothers, with some of the bravest of them,
carrying away the body of Amphialus, which they would
rather have died than have left behind.
* Deliver — Active, nimble.
"Like bulls set head to head with mei-e deliver strength."
Drayton, Polyolbion, Song i.
334 ARCADIA.— Book III.
So was the Forsaken Knight, laid upon cloaks, carried
home to the camp. But his two friends, knowing his earnest
desire not to be known, covering him from anybody's eyes,
conveyed him to their own tent ; Basihus himself conquering
his earnest desire to see him with fear to displease him who
had fought so notably in his quarrel. But fame set the honour
upon his back which he would not suffer to shine in his face,
no man's mouth being barren of praises to the noble knight
that had battered the most esteemed knight in the world,
everybody praying for his life and thinking that therein they
prayed for themselves. But he himself, when, by the diligent
care of friends and well-applied cunning of surgeons, he came
to renew again the league between his mind and body, then
fell he to a fresh war with his own thoughts, wrongfully con-
demning his manhood, laying cowardice to himself, whom
the impudentest backbiter would not so have wronged. For
his courage, used to use victory as an inheritance, could brook
no resistance at any time ; but now that he had promised
himself not only the conquest of him, but the scaling of the
walls and delivery of Pamela, though he had done beyond all
other's expectation, yet so short was he of his own that he
hated to look upon the sun that had seen him do so weakly,
and so much abhorred all visitation or honour, whereof he
thought himself unworthy, that he besought his two noble
friends to carry him away to a castle not far off, where he
might cure his wounds and never be known till he made suc-
cess excuse this, as he thought, want in him. They lovingly
obeyed him, leaving Basihus and all the camp very sorry for
the parting of these three unknown knights, in whose prowess
they had reposed greatest trust of victory.
But they being gone, Basilius and Philanax gave good
order to the strengthening of the siege, fortifying themselves,
so as they feared no more any such sudden onset as that of
ARCADIA.— Book III. 335
Anaxius. And they within, by reason of Anaxius' hurt, but
especially of Amphialus his, gave themselves only to a dili-
gent watch and ward, making no sallies out, but committing
the principal trust to Zoilus and Lycurgus ; for Anaxius was
yet forced to keep his chamber. And as for Amphialus, his
body had such wounds, and he gave such wounds to his
mind, as easily it could not be determined whether death or
he made the greater haste one to another ; for when the
diligent care of cunning chirurgeons had brought hfe to the
possession of his own right, sorrow and shame, like two cor-
rupted servants, came waiting of it, persuading nothmg but
the giving over of itself to destruction.
His mother, who had confined all her love only unto him, set
only such about him as were absolutely at her commandment,
whom she forbad to let him know anything that passed in
the castle till his wounds were cured, but as she from time
to time should instruct them ; she, for herself, being resolved,
now she had the government of all things in her own hands,
to satisfy her son's love by their* yielding, or satisfy her own
revenge in their punishment. Yet first, because she would
be the freer from outward force, she sent a messenger to the
camp to denounce unto 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 fear a present performance, she caused his two
daughters and Zelmane to be led unto the walls, where she
had made a scaffold easy to be seen by Basilius, and there
caused them to be kept, as ready for the slaughter, till answer
came from Basilius.
But when this message was brought to Basilius, and that
this pitiful preparation was a sufficient letter of credit for
him to believe it, he called unto him his chief counsellors,
* Their yielding — i.e.^ that of Pamela and Philoclea.
336 ARCADIA.— Book III.
among which those he chiefly trusted were Philanax and
Kalander, lately come to the camp at Basilius' command-
ment, and in himself weary of his solitary life, wanting his
son's presence, and never having heard from his beloved
guests since they parted from him. Now in this doubt what
he should do he willed Kalander to give him his advice, who
told him that no sophistical scholar could find any question
in this, that he would rather have his daughters live or die.
A man might use more words if it were to any purpose to
gild gold;* "but you are wise and are a father," said he;
"do, therefore, as you mean to do: remove the siege."
But Basilius made sign to Philanax, who, though inwardly
perplexed, would have persuaded the king to set down all
private conceits in comparison of what for the public is pro-
fitable, and he would have 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, using such gestures of compassion, instead 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 careful for Zelmane,
by whose besieged person the poor old man was straitly
besieged. So as, to rid him of the famine of his mind, he
went in speed away, discharging his soldiers, only leaving the
authority, as before, in Philanax his hands ; he himself went
with Gynecia to a strong castle of his, where he took counsel
how first to deliver Zelmane, whom he called the poor stranger,
as though only law of hospitality moved him, and for that
purpose sent divers messengers to traffic with Cecropia.
But she, by this means rid of the present danger of the
siege, desired Zoilus and Lycurgus to take the care, till their
* To gild gold — "To gild refined gold ; to paint the lily."
— King John, act iv. sc. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 2>n
brother recovered, of revictualling and furnishing the city,
both with men and what else wanted, against any new occa-
sion should urge them ; she herself, disdaining to hearken to
Basihus without he would grant his daughter in marriage
to her son, which by no means he would be brought unto^
bent all the sharpness of her malicious wit how to bring
a comfortable grant to her son, whereupon she well found
no less than his hfe depended. Therefore for a while
she attempted all means of eloquent praying and flattering
persuasion, mingling sometimes gifts, sometimes threaten-
ings, as she had cause to hope that either open force or
undermining would best win the castle of their resolution.
And ever as much as she did to Philoclea, so much did she
to Pamela, though in manner sometimes differing, as she
found fit to level at the one's noble height and the other's
sweet lowliness. For, though she knew her son's heart had
wholly given itself to Philoclea, yet, seeing the equal gifts in
Pamela, she hoped a fair grant would recover the sorrow of
a fair refusal ; cruelly intending the present empoisoning the
one as soon as the other's affection were purchased.
But in vain was all her vain oratory employed. Pamela's
determination was built upon so brave a rock that no shot of
hers could reach unto it ; and Philoclea, though humbly
seated, was so environed with sweet rivers of clear virtue as
could neither be battered nor undermined : her witty persua-
sions had wise answers ; her eloquence recompensed with
sweetness ; her threatenings repelled with disdain in the one
and patience in the other ; her gifts either not accepted, or
accepted to obey, but not to bind.
Cecropia, by nature violent and now spiteful, dishonour-
ably used them, both in diet and in lodging, by contempt
seeking to pull their thoughts to yielding. But to all virtue
and love resisted ; yet Cecropia, resolving all extremities
z
338 ARCADIA.— Book III.
rather than fail of conquest, pursued on her ruo^ged way,
letting no day pass without new and new perplexing the poor
ladies' minds and troubling their bodies.
So these diamonds of the world — whom nature had made
to be preciously set in the eyes of men, to be the chief works
of her workmanship, the chief ornaments of the world and
princesses of felicity — by rebellious injury were brought to
the uttermost distress that an enemy's heart could wish or a
woman's spite invent ; Cecropia daily in one or other sort
punishing them, still with her evil torments giving them fear
of worse, making the fear itself the sorest torment of all, that, in
the end, weary of their bodies, they should be content to bestow
them at her appointment. Yet Cecropia found herself still
further off ; for where at first she might perchance have per-
suaded them to have visited her son and have given him some
comfort in his sickness, drawing near to the confines of
death's kingdom, now they protested that they would never
otherwise speak to him than as to their enemy, of most
unjust cruelty towards them that any time or place could
ever make them know.
This made the poison swell in her cankered breast, per-
ceiving that, as in water, the more she grasped the less she
held ; but yet now, having run so long the way of rigour, it
was too late in reason, and too contrary to her passion, to
return to a course of meekness. And, therefore, taking
counsel of one of her old associates, who so far excelled in
wickedness as that she had not only lost all feeling of con-
science, but had gotten a very glory in evil, in the end they
determined that beating and other such sharp dealing did
not so much pull down a woman's heart as it bred anger, and
that nothing was more enemy to yielding than anger, making
their tender hearts take on the armour of obstinacy — for
thus did their wicked minds, blind to the light of virtue, and
ARCADIA.— Book III. 339
owly-eyed in the night of wickedness, interpret it — and that
therefore that was no more to be tried. And for fear of death,
which, no question, would do most with them, they had been
so often threatened as they began to be famiharly acquainted
with it, and learned to esteem threatening words to be but
words. Therefore the last but best way now was, that
the one seeing indeed the other's death should perceive
there was no dallying meant ; and then there was no doubt
that a woman's soul would do so much rather than leave so
beautiful a body.
This being concluded, Cecropia went to Philoclea and told
her that now she was to come to the last part of the play ;
for her part, though she found her hard-hearted obstinacy
such that neither the sweetness of loving means nor the force
of hard means could prevail with her, yet, before she would
pass to a further degree of extremity, she had sought to win
her sister, in hope that her son might be in time satisfied
with the love of so fair a lady, but, finding her also rather
more than less wilful, she was now minded that one of their
deaths should serve for an example to the other, that de-
spising worthy folks was more hurtful to the despiser than
the despised ; that yet, because her son especially affected
her, and that in her own self she was more inclinable to pity
her than she had deserved, she would begin with her sister,
who that afternoon should have her head cut off before her
face ; if in the meantime one of them did not pull out their ill-
wrought stitches of unkindness, she bad her look for no other,
nor longer time, than she told her.
There was no assault given to the sweet Philoclea's mind
that entered so far as this ; for where, to all pains and dangers
of herself, foresight, with his lieutenant resolution, had made
ready defence, now with the love she bare her sister she was
driven to a stay before she determined ; but long she stayed
z 2
340 ARCADIA.— Book III.
not before this reason did shine unto her, that since in her-
self she preferred death before such a base servitude, love
did teach her to wish the same to her sister. Therefore
crossing her arms and looking sideward upon the ground,
" Do what you will," said she, " with us ; for my part, heaven
shall melt before I be removed. But, if you will follow my
counsel, for your own sake — for as for prayers for my sake I
have felt how little they prevail — let my death first serve for
example to win her, who perchance is not so resolved against
Amphialus, and so shall you not only justly punish me, who
indeed do hate both you and your son, but, if that may move
you, you shall do more virtuously in preserving one most
worthy of life, and killing another most desirous of death ;
lastly, in winning her, instead of peevish unhappy creature
that I am, you shall bless your son with the most excellent
woman in all praiseworthy things that the world holdeth."
But Cecropia, who had already set down to herself what she
would do, both with bitter terms and countenance, told her
that she should not need to woo death over-eagerly, for, if her
sister going before her did not teach her wit, herself should
quickly follow. For, since they were not to be gotten, there
was no way for her son's quiet but to know that they were
past getting. And so, since no intreating nor threatening
might prevail, she bad her prepare her eyes for a new play,
which she should see within few hours in the hall of that castle.
A place indeed over-fit for so unfit a matter ; for being
so stately made that the bottom of it being even with the
ground, the roof reached as high as any part of the castle,
at either end it had convenient lodgings. In the one end
was, one storey from the ground, Philoclea's abode, in the
other, of even height, Pamela's, and Zelmane's in a chamber
above her ; but all so vaulted of strong and thickly-built stone
as one could no way hear the other. Each of these chambers
ARCADIA.— Book III. 341
had a little window to look into the hall, but, because the
sisters should not have so much comfort as to look one to
another, there was, of the outsides, curtains drawn, which
they could not reach with their hands, so barring the reach
of their sight. But then the hour came that the tragedy-
should begin, and the curtains were withdrawn from before the
windows of Zelmane and of Philoclea, a sufficient challenge
to call their eyes to defend themselves in such an encounter.
And by-and-by came in at one end of the hall, with about a
dozen armed soldiers, a lady led by a couple, with her hands
bound before her, from above her eyes to her lips muffled
with a fair kerchief, but from her mouth to the shoulders all
bare ; and so was led on to a scaffold raised a good deal
from the floor, and all covered with crimson velvet. But
neither Zelmane nor Philoclea needed to be told who she
was, for the apparel she ware made them too well assured
that it was the admirable Pamela ; whereunto the rare
whiteness of her naked neck gave sufficient testimony to
their astonished senses. But the fair lady being come to the
scaffold, and then made to kneel down, and so left by her
unkind supporters, as it seemed that she was about to speak
somewhat, whereunto Philoclea, poor soul, earnestly listened,
according to her speech even minding to frame her mind,
her heart never till then almost wavering to save her sister's
life, before the unfortunate lady could pronounce three words,
the executioner cut off the one's speech and the other's at-
tention with making his sword do his cruel office upon that
beautiful neck. Yet the pitiless sword had such pity of so
precious an object that at first it did but hit flatlong. But
little availed that, since the lady falling down astonished
withal, the cruel villain forced the sword with another blow
to divorce the fair marriage of the head and body.
And this was done so in an instant that the very act did
342 ARCADIA.— Book III.
overrun Philoclea's sorrow, sorrow not being able so quickly
to thunderbolt her heart through her senses, but first only-
oppressed her with a storm of amazement ; but when her eyes
saw that they did see, as condemning themselves to have
seen it, they became weary of their own power of seeing, and
her soul then drinking up woe with great draughts, she fell
down to deadly trances ; but her waiting jailers, with cruel
pity, brought loathed life unto her, which yet many times
took his leave as though he would indeed depart ; but, when
he was stayed 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, never more shall I see thee ; never
more shall I enjoy thy sweet company and wise counsel !
But O that a thousand more miseries had chanced unto me
so thou hadst not died, Pamela, my sister Pamela !" And so,
like a lamentable Philomela, complained she the horrible
wrong done to her sister, which, if it stirred not in the
wickedly-closed minds of her tormentors a pity of her sorrow,
yet bred it a weariness of her sorrow, so as, only leaving one
to prevent any harm she should do herself, the rest went away,
consulting again with Cecropia how to make profit of this
their late bloody act.
In the end, that woman that used most to keep company
with Zelmane told Cecropia that she found by many most
sensible proofs in Zelmane that there was never woman so
loved another as she loved Philoclea, which was the cause
that she, further than the commandment of Cecropia, had
caused Zelmane's curtains to be also drawn ; because, having
the same spectacle that Philoclea had, she might stand in the
greater fear for her whom she loved so well, and that indeed
she had hit the needle in that device ; for never saw she
creature so astonished as Zelmane, exceedingly sorry for
ARCADIA.— Book III. 343
Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that exceedingness in fear
for Philoclea. Therefore her advice was she should cause
Zelmane to come and speak with Philoclea ; for, there being
such vehemency of friendship between them, it was most
likely both to move Zelmane to persuade and Philoclea to be
persuaded. Cecropia liked well of the counsel, and gave
order to the same woman to go deal therein with Zelmane,
and to assure her with oath that Cecropia was determined
Philoclea should pass the same way that Pamela had done,
without she did yield to satisfy the extremity of her son's
affection, which the woman did, adding thereunto many, as
she thought, good reasons to make Zelmane think Amphialus
a fit match for Philoclea.
Zelmane, who had understood from time to time the cruel
dealing they had used to the sisters, now had her own eyes
wounded with the sight of one's death, and had now to think
of the death of Philoclea. A night was granted for leisure
for thinking, a night not half so black as her mind, nor so
silent as her musing thoughts. She resolved at last that the
only way was for Philoclea to pretend a yielding to Cecropia,
and, by speaking with Amphialus and making fair delaying
promises, should procure liberty for Zelmane, who should
come with a sword and deliver Philoclea, so little did the
forces of the men seem in her eyes, looking down from the
high top of affection's tower.
With that mind, and well bound, she was brought to Phi-
loclea. Sorrow a while would needs speak his own language
without using their tongues to be his interpreters. At last Zel-
mane brake silence, but spake with the eloquence of amaze-
ment. "Dear lady, in extreme necessities we must not
But alas ! unfortunate wretch that I am that I live to see this
day !" The sweet Philoclea, that had already died in Pamela,
and of the other side had the heaviness of her heart some-
344 ARCADIA.— Book III.
thing quickened in the most beloved sight of Zelmane, guessed
somewhat at Zehnane's mind, and therefore spake unto her
in this sort : " My Pyrocles," said she, " I know this exceeding
comfort of your presence is not brought unto me for any good-
will that is owed unto me, but, as I suppose, to make you
persuade me to save my life with the ransom of mine honour.
Trouble me not, dear Pyrocles, nor double ih4* my death by
tormenting my resolution. Since I cannot live with thee, I
will die for thee." And Philoclea continuing sweetly con-
stant, and in the end being silent, Zelmane was forced to end.
Yet, craving other opportunities, she obtained them, till at the
last Cecropia found it to no purpose, and therefore deter-
mined to follow her own way ; Zelmane yet still desirous to
win, by any means, respite, even wasted with sorrow and un-
certainty whether in worse case in her presence or absence,
being able to do nothing for Philoclea's succour but by sub-
mitting the greatest courage of the earth to fall at the feet of
Cecropia, and crave stay of their sentence till the uttermost
was seen what her persuasions might do.
Cecropia seemed much to be moved by her importunity,
so as divers days were won of painful life to the excellent
Philoclea ; while Zelmane suffered some hope to cherish her
mind, especially trusting upon the help of Musidorus, who,
she knew, would not be idle in this matter ; till one morning a
noise awaked Zelmane, from whose over-watchful mind the
tired body had stolen a little sleep, and straight, with the first
opening of her eyes, care taking his wonted place, she ran
to the window which looked into the hall — for that way the
noise guided her — and there might she see, the curtain being
left open ever since the last execution, seven or eight persons
in a cluster upon the scaffold, who by-and-by retiring them-
* Nor double not — The repetition of the negative was frequently used
by the Elizabethan writers, and is often met with in Shakespeare.
ARCADIA,— Book III. 345
selves, nothing was to be seen thereupon but a basin of gold
pitifully enamelled with blood, and in the midst of it the
head of the most beautiful Philoclea. The horribleness of
the mischief was such as Pyrocles could not at first believe
his own senses, but bent his woeful eyes to discern it better,
where too well he might see it was Philoclea's self, having no
veil but beauty over her face, which still appeared to be
alive ; so did those eyes shine, even as they were wont — and
they were wont more than any other — and sometimes as they
moved it might well make the beholder think that death
therein had borrowed her beauty, and not they any way dis-
graced by death, so sweet and piercing a grace they carried.
It was not a pity, it was not an amazement, it was not a
sorrow which then laid hold on Pyrocles, but a wild fury of
desperate agony ; so that he cried out, " O tyrant heaven !
traitor earth ! bhnd providence ! no justice! how is this done?
how is this suffered ? Hath this world a government ? if it
have, let it pour out all his mischiefs upon me, and see
whether it have power to make me more wretched than I am.
Did she excel for this ? have I prayed for this ? Abominable
hand that did it, detestable devil that commanded it, cursed
light that beheld it ; and, if the light be cursed, what are then
mine eyes that have seen it ? And have I seen Philoclea
dead, and do I live ? and have I hved not to help her, but to
talk of her, and stand I still talking?" And with that,
carried by the madness of anguish, not having a readier way
to kill himself, he ran as hard as ever he could with his head
against the wall, with intention to brain himself, but the
haste to do it made the doing the slower. For, as he came to
give the blow, his foot tripped, so as it came not with the full
force, yet forcible enough to strike him down, and withal to
deprive him of his sense, so that he lay a while comforted by
the hurt in that he felt not his discomfort.
346 ARCADIA.— Book III.
And when he came again to himself, he heard, or he thought
he heard, a voice which cried, " Revenge ! revenge !" unto him ;
whether indeed it were his good angel which used that voice
to stay him from unnatural murdering of himself, or that his
wandering spirits lighted upon that conceit, and by their
weakness, subject to apprehensions, supposed they heard it.
But that indeed, helped with Virtue and her valiant servant
Anger, stopped him from present destroying of himself;
yielding in reason and manhood first to destroy man, woman,
and child that were any way of kin to them that were acces-
sory to this cruelty ; then to raze the castle, and to build a
sumptuous monument for her sister, and a most sumptuous
for herself, and then himself to die upon her tomb. This
determining in himself to do, and to seek all means how for
that purpose to get out of prison, he was content a while to
bear the thirst of death ; and yet went he again to the
window to kiss the beloved head with his eyes, but there saw
he nothing but the scaffold all covered over with scarlet, and
nothing but solitary silence to mourn this mischief. Rut
then, sorrow having dispersed itself from his heart into all his
noble parts, it proclaimed his authority in cries and tears, nor
with a more gentle dolefulness could pour out his inward evil.
*' Sweet Philoclea," said he, " thou art gone, and hast
carried with thee my love, and hast left thy love in me ; and
I, wretched man ! do live. I live, to die continually, till thy
revenge do give me leave to die ; and then die I will, my
Philoclea ; my heart willingly makes this promise to itself.
O cruel divorce of the sweetest marriage that ever was in
nature ! Philoclea is dead ; and dead is with her all good-
ness, all sweetness, all excellency ! Philoclea is dead ; and
yet life is not ashamed to continue upon the earth ! Philo-
clea is dead ! O deadly word, which containeth in itself the
uttermost of all misfortunes; but happy word when thou
ARCADIA.— Book III. 347
shalt be said of me ; and long it shall not be before it be
said !"
Then stopping his words with sighs, drowning his sighs in
tears, and drying again his tears in rage, he would sit a while
in a wandering muse, which represented nothing but vexa-
tions unto him ; then throwing himself sometime upon the
floor, and sometimes upon the bed, then up again, till walking
was wearisome and rest loathsome ; and so, neither suffering
food nor sleep to help his afflicted nature, all that day and
night he did nothing but weep "Philoclea," sigh "Philoclea,"
and cry out " Philoclea ;" till, as it happened, at that time
upon his bed, toward the dawning of the day, he heard one
stir in his chamber, by the motion of garments, and with an
angry voice asked who was there. " A poor gentlewoman,"
answered the party, "that wish[es] long life unto you." "And
I soon death unto you," said he, " for the horrible curse you
have given me." " Certainly," said she, " an unkind answer,
and far unworthy the excellency of your mind, but not
unsuitable to the rest of your behaviour. For most part of
this night I have heard you, being let into your chamber,
you never perceiving it, so was your mind estranged from
your senses, and have heard nothing of Zelmane in Zelmane,
nothing but weak wailings, fitter for some nurse of a village
than so famous a creature as you are." " O God," cried out
Pyrocles, " that thou wert a man that usest these words unto
me ! I tell thee I am sorry, I tell thee I will be sorry, in
despite of thee and all them that would have me joyful."
"And yet," repHed she, "perchance Philoclea is not dead
whom you so much bemoan." " I would we were both dead
on that condition," said Pyrocles. " See the folly of your
passion," said she ; " as though you should be nearer to her,
you being dead and she alive than she being dead and you
alive. And, if she be dead, was she not born to die ? What,
348 ARCADIA.— Book III.
then, do you cry out for ? Not for her, who must have died
one time or other, but for some few years ; so as it is time
and this world that seem so lovely things, and not Philoclea,
unto you." " O noble sisters," cried Pyrocles, " now you be
gone, who were the only exalters of all womankind, what is
left in that sex but babbling and business ?"* "And truly,"
said she, " I will yet a little longer trouble you." " Nay, I
pray you do," said Pyrocles ; " for I wish for nothing in my
short life but mischiefs and cumbers, and I am content you
shall be one of them." "In truth," said she, " you would
think yourself a greatly privileged person if, since the
strongest building and lastingest monarchies are subject to
end, only your Philoclea, because she is yours, should be
exempted. But, indeed, you bemoan yourself, who have lost
a friend ; you cannot her, who hath in one act both preserved
her honour and left the miseries of this world." " O woman's
philosophy, childish folly," said Pyrocles ; "as, though I do
bemoan myself, I have not reason so to do, having lost
more than any monarchy — nay, than my life can be worth
unto me." "Alas!" said she, " comfort yourself ; Nature
did not forget her skill when she made them ; you shall find
many their superiors, and perchance such as, when your
eyes shall look abroad, yourself will like better."
But that speech put all good manners out of the conceit of
Pyrocles, in so much that, leaping out of his bed, he ran to
have stricken her ; but, coming near her, the morning then
winning the field of darkness, he saw, or he thought he saw,
indeed, the very face of Philoclea ; the same sweetness, the
same grace, the same beauty ; with which, carried into a
divine astonishment, he fell down at her feet. " Most blessed
* Business — Officiousness, multiplicity of affairs.
" Must business thee from hence remove.
Oh, that's the worst disease of love." — DoNNE.
ARCADIA.—Book III. 349
angel," said he, "well hast thou done to take that shape,
since thou wouldest submit thyself to mortal sense ; for a
more angelical form could not have been created for thee.
Alas ! even by that excellent beauty so beloved of me, let it
be lawful for me to ask of thee what is the cause that she,
that heavenly creature whose form you have taken, should
by the heavens be destined to so unripe an end? Why
should unjustice so prevail ? Why was she seen to the
world so soon to be ravished from us ? Why was she not
suffered to live, to teach the world perfection?" "Do not
deceive thyself," answered she ; " I am no angel : I am
Philoclea, the same Philoclea, so truly loving you, so truly
beloved of you." " If it be so," said he, "that you are indeed
the soul of Philoclea, you have done well to keep your own
figure ; for no heaven could have given you a better. Then,
alas ! why have you taken the pains to leave your blissful
seat to come to this place, most wretched to me, who am
wretchedness itself, and not rather obtain for me that I
might come where you are, there eternally to behold and
eternally to love your beauties ? You know, I know, that I
desire nothing but death, which I only stay to be justly
revenged of your unjust murtherers." "Dear Pyrocles,"
said she, " I am thy Philoclea, and, as yet, hving, not mur-
dered, as you supposed, and therefore be comforted ;" and
with that gave him her hand.
But the sweet touch of that hand seemed to his estrayed
powers so heavenly a thing that it rather for a while con-
firmed him in his former belief; till she, with vehement
protestations, and desire that it might be so, helping to
persuade that it was so, brought him to yield, yet doubtfully
to yield to this height of all comfort, that Philoclea lived ;
which witnessing with tears of joy, "Alas !" said he, "how
shall I believe mine eyes any more? Or do you yet but
350 ARCADIA.— Book III.
appear thus unto me to stay me from some desperate end ?
For, alas ! I saw the excellent Pamela beheaded ; I saw
your head — the head, indeed, and chief part of all nature's
works — standing in a dish of gold — too mean a shrine, God
wot, for such a relic. How can this be, my only dear, and
you live ? Or, if this be not so, how can I believe mine own
senses ? and, if I cannot believe them, why should I believe
these blessed tidings they bring me ?"
" The truth is," said she, " my Pyrocles, that neither I, as
you find, nor yet my dear sister, is dead, although the mis-
chievously-subtle Cecropia used sleights* to make either of us
think so of other. For, having in vain attempted the farthest
of her wicked eloquence to make either of us yield to her
son, and seeing that neither it, accompanied with great
flatteries and rich presents, could get any ground of us, nor
yet the violent way she fell into of cruelly tormenting our
bodies could prevail with us, at last she made either of us
think the other dead, and so hoped to have wrested our
minds to the forgetting of virtue ; and first she gave to mine
eyes the miserable spectacle of my sister's (as I thought)
death ; but, indeed, it was not my sister — it was only Artesia,
she who so cunningly brought us to this misery. Truly I am
sorry for the poor gentlewoman, though justly she be punished
for her double falsehood ; but Artesia, muffled so as you could
not easily discern her, and in my sister's apparel, which they
had taken from her under colour of giving her other, did
they execute ; and when I, for thy sake especially, dear
Pyrocles, could by no force nor fear be won, they essayed
* Sleights— ^xxc^i, deceptions. "Be all prudent foresight, lest
our simplicity be over- reached by cunning sleights,'''' — Hooker,
Sermons.
" Though false Duessa it to barre
Her false sleights doe employ."
— Faerie Queene, head to cant. xiL bk. i.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 351
the like with my sister, by bringing me down under the scaf-
fold, and, making me thrust my head up through a hole they
had made therein, they did put about my poor neck a dish
of gold whereout they had beaten the bottom, so as having
set blood in it, you saw how I played the part of death — God
knows, even willing to have done it in earnest — and so had
they set me that I reached but on tiptoes to the ground, so
as scarcely I could breathe, much less speak. And truly, if
they had kept me there any whit longer, they had strangled
me instead of beheading me ; but then they took me away,
and, seeking to see their issue of this practice, they found my
noble sister, for the dear love she vouchsafeth to bear me, so
grieved withal that she willed them to do their uttermost
cruelty unto her ; for she vowed never to receive sustenance
of them that had been the causers ofmy murther ; and, find-
ing both of us even given over, not like to live many hours
longer, and my sister Pamela rather worse than myself — the
strength of her heart worse bearing those indignities — the
good woman Cecropia, with the same pity as folks keep fowl
when they are not fat enough for their eating, made us know
her deceit, and let us come one to another — with what joy
you can well imagine, who, I know, feel the like, saving that
we only thought ourselves reserved to miseries, and therefore
fitter for condoling than congratulating. True, I think it is
but a little respite, yet I would rob from death the most sweet
comfort of seeing thee, my Pyrocles. And so, having leave,
I came stealing into your chamber, where what a joy it was
unto me to hear you solemnise the funerals of the poor Philo-
clea ! That I myself might live to hear my death bewailed !
And by whom 1 By my dear Pyrocles. That I saw death
was not strong enough to divide thy love from me ! O my
Pyrocles, I am too well paid for my pains I have suffered.
Joyful is my woe for so noble a cause ; and welcome be all
352 ARCADIA.— Book III.
miseries, since to thee I am so welcome. Alas ! how I pitied
to hear thy pity of me ; and yet a great while I could not
find in my heart to interrupt thee, but often had even plea-
sure to weep with thee ; and so kindly came forth thy lamen-
tations that they enforced me to lament too, as if, indeed, I
had been a looker-on to see poor Philoclea die. Till at last
I spake with you, to try whether I could remove thee from
sorrow, till I had almost procured myself a beating." And
w^ith that she prettily smiled ; which mingled with her tears,
one could not tell whether it were a mourning pleasure or a
delightful sorrow, but like when a few April drops are scat-
tered by a gentle zephyrus among fine-coloured flowers.
Then began Pyrocles, half distraught with joy, to comfort
her ; but who could lively describe the manner of these
speeches should paint out the lightsome colours of affection,
shaded with the deepest shadows of sorrow, finding then
between hope and fear a kind of sweetness in tears ; till
Philoclea, content to receive a kiss, and but a kiss of
Pyrocles, sealed up his moving lips, and closed them up in
comfort, and herself, for the passage was left between them
open, went to her sister, with whom she stayed but a while,
fortifying one another, while Philoclea tempered Pamela's
just disdain, and Pamela ennobled Philoclea's sweet humble-
ness, when Amphialus came unto them, who never since he
had heard Philoclea named could be quiet in himself,
although none of them about him, fearing more his mother's
violence than his power, would discover what had passed ;
and many messengers he sent to know her estate, which
brought answer back according as it pleased Cecropia to
indite them, till his heart, full of unfortunate affection, more
and more misgiving him, having impatiently borne the delay
of the night's unfitness, this morning he gat up, and, though
full of wounds (which not without danger could suffer such
ARCADIA.— Book III. 353
exercise), he apparelled himself, and, with a countenance that
showed strength in nothing but in grief, he came where the
sisters were, and weakly kneeling down, he besought them to
pardon him if they had not been used in that castle accord-
ing to their worthiness and his duty, beginning to excuse small
matters, poor gentleman, not knowing in what sort they had
been handled.
But Pamela's high heart, having conceived mortal hate for
the injury offered to her and her sister, could scarcely abide
his sight, much less hear out his excuses, but interrupted him
with these words : " Traitor," said she, " to thine own blood,
and false to the profession of so much love as thou hast vowed !
do not defile our ears with thy excuses, but pursue on* the
cruelty that thou and thy godly mother have used towards
us ; for my part, assure thyself — and so do I answer for my
sister, whose mind I know — I do not more desire mine own
safety than thy destruction." Amazed with this speech,
he turned his eye, full of humble sorrowfulness, to Phi-
loclea. "And is this, most excellent lady, your doom of me
also r
She, sweet lady, sate weeping ; for, as her most noble kins-
man, she had ever favoured him and loved his love, though
she could not be in love with his person ; and now, partly
unkindness of his wrong, partly pity of his case, made her
sweet mind yield some tears before she could answer, and
her answer was no other but that she had the same cause as
her sister had. He rephed no further, but delivering from his
heart two or three untaught sighs, rose, and, with most low
reverence, went out of their chamber, and straight, by threat-
ening torture, learned of one of the women in what terrible
manner those princesses had been used. But when he heard
* Pursue ^;/— Used in the sense of "follow on." I cannot find
another instance of this duplication.
A A
354 ARCADIA.— Book III.
it, crying out " O God !" and then not able to say any more,
for his speech went back to rebound woe upon his heart, he
needed no judge to go upon him, for no man could ever think
any other worthy of greater punishment than he thought him-
self. Full, therefore, of the horriblest despair which a most
guilty conscience could breed, with wild looks promising some
terrible issue, understanding his mother was up on the top of
the leads, he caught one of his servant's swords from him,
and none of them daring to stay him, he went up, carried by
fury instead of strength, where she was at that time musing
how to go through with this matter, and resolving to make
much of her nieces in show and secretly to impoison them,
thinking, since they were not to be won, her son's love would
no otherwise be mitigated.
But when she saw him come in with a sword drawn, and a
look more terrible than the sword, she straight was stricken
with the guiltiness of her own conscience ; yet the well-known
humbleness of her son somewhat animated her, till he, coming
nearer her, and crying to her, "Thou damnable creature ! only
fit to bring forth such a monster of unhappiness as I am !"
she, fearing he would have stricken her, though indeed he
meant it not, but only intended to kill himself in her presence,
went back so far, till, ere she were aware, she overthrew her-
self from over the leads, to receive her death's kiss at the
ground ; and yet was she not so happy as presently to die,
but that she had time, with hellish agony, to see her son's
mischief, whom she loved so well, before her end ; when
she confessed, with most desperate but not repenting
mind, the purpose she had to impoison the princesses, and
would then have had them murthered. But everybody
seeing, and glad to see, her end, had left obedience to* her
tyranny.
* Left obedience to — Had ceased to obey her.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 355
And, if it could be, her ruin increased woe in the noble
heart of Amphialus, who, when he saw her fall, had his own
rage stayed a little with the suddenness of her destruction.
" And was I not enough miserable before," said he, " but that
before my end I must be the death of my mother ? who, how
wicked soever, yet I would she had received her punishment
by some other. O Amphialus ! wretched Amphialus ! thou
hast lived to be the death of thy most dear companion and
friend Philoxenus, and of his father, thy most careful foster-
father ; thou hast lived to kill a lady with thine own hands,
and so excellent and virtuous a lady as the fair Parthenia was ;
thou hast lived to see thy faithful Ismenus slain in succouring
thee, and thou not able to defend him ; thou hast lived to
show thyself such a coward as that one unknown knight could
overcome thee in thy lady's presence ; thou hast lived to bear
arms against thy rightful prince, thine own uncle ; thou hast
lived to be accounted, and justly accounted, a traitor by the
most excellent persons that this world holdeth ; thou hast
lived to be the death of her that gave thee life : but, ah,
wretched Amphialus ! thou hast lived for thy sake, and by thy
authority, to have Philoclea tormented, O heavens ! in Am-
phialus' castle, where Amphialus commanded — tormented !
tormented ! Torment of my soul ! Philoclea tormented ! and
thou hast had such comfort in thy life as to live all this while !
Perchance this hand, used only to mischievous acts, thinks it
were too good a deed to kill me ; or else, filthy hand, only
worthy to kill women, thou art afraid to strike a man. Fear
not, cowardly hand, for thou shalt kill but a cowardly traitor ;
and do it gladly, for thou shalt kill him whom Philoclea
hateth."
With that furiously he tare open his doublet, and setting
the pommel of the sword to the ground and the point to his
breast, he fell upon it. But the sword, more merciful than he
A A 2
356 ARCADIA.— Book III.
to himself, with the slipping of the pommel the point swarved*
and rased him but upon the side ; yet with the fall his other
wounds opened so as he bled in such extremity that Charon's
boat might very well be carried in that flood which yet he
sought to hasten by this means. As he opened his doublet
and fell, there fell out Philoclea's knives, which Cecropia at
the first had taken from her and delivered to her son, and he
had ever worn them next his heart as the only relic he had of
his saint ; now, seeing them by him, his sword being so as
weakness could not well draw it out from his doublet, he took
the knives, and pulling one of them out and many times kiss-
ing it, and then, first with the passions of kindness and un-
kindness melting in tears, " O dear knives, you are come in
good time to revenge the wrong I have done you all this while
in keeping you from her blessed side, and wearing you with-
out your mistress' leave. Alas ! be witness with me yet before
I die— and well you may, for you have lain next my heart —
that by my consent your excellent mistress should have had
as much honour as this poor place could have brought forth
for so high an excellency ; and now I am condemned to die
by her mouth. Alas ! other, far other hope would my desire
often have given me, but other event it hath pleased her to
lay upon me. Ah, Philoclea"— with that his tears gushed out
as though they would strive to overflow his blood — " I would
yet thou knewest how I love thee. Unworthy I am, unhappy
I am, false I am ; but to thee, alas ! I am not false. But what
a traitor am I any way to excuse him whom she condemneth !
Since there is nothing left me wherein I may do her service
* Swarved, Sw. sziia)f-wa, circitmagere. Richardson, citing this
passage, spells it " swerved." Hooker and Jewell use " swarving"
and "swarveth," and Spenser has —
" And ever up to heven, as she did pray,
Her stedfast eyes were fixt, ne nvarvcd other way."
— Faerie Queene, bk. i. cant. lo.
ARCADIA,— Book III. 357
but in punishing him who hath so offended her, dear knife,
then do your noble mistress' commandment."
With that he stabbed himself into divers places of his
breast and throat, until those wounds, with the old freshly-
bleeding, brought him to the senseless gate of death. By
which time his servants having with fear of his fury abstained
a while from coming unto him, one of them, preferring dutiful
affection before fearful duty, came in, and there found him
swimming in his own blood, giving a pitiful spectacle, where
the conquest was the conqueror's overthrow, and self-ruin the
only triumph of a battle fought between him and himself.
The time full of danger, the person full of worthiness, the
manner full of horror, did greatly astonish all the beholders,
so as by-and-by all the town was full of it, and then of all
ages came running up to see the beloved body, everybody
thinking their safety bled in his wounds and their honour
died in his destruction.
But when it came, and quickly it came, to the ears of his
proud friend Anaxius, who by that time was grown well of his
wound, but never had come abroad, disdaining to abase him-
self to the company of any other but of Amphialus, he was
exceedingly vexed either with kindness, or, if a proud heart
be not capable thereof, with disdain, that he who had the
honour to be called the friend of Anaxius should come to
such an unexpected ruin ; therefore, then coming abroad with
a face red in anger, and engrained in pride, with lids raised
and eyes levelling from top to toe of them that met him,
treading as though he thought to make the earth shake under
him, with his hand upon his sword, short speeches and dis-
dainful answers, giving straight order to his two brothers to go
take the oath of obedience in his name of all the soldiers and
citizens in the town, and, withal, to swear them to revenge
the death of Amphialus upon Basilius, he himself went to
358 ARCADIA— Book III.
see him, calling for all the surgeons and physicians there,
spending some time in viewing the body, and threatening
them all to be hanged if they did not heal him. But they,
taking view of his wounds, and falling down at Anaxius' feet,
assured him that they were mortal, and no possible means to
keep him above two days alive ; and he stood partlj^ in doubt
to kill or save them between his own fury and their humble-
ness, but vowing with his own hands to kill the two sisters
as causers of his friend's death, when his brothers came to
him and told him they had done his commandment, in having
received the oath of allegiance w'ith no great difficulty, the
most part terrified by their valour and force of their servants,
and many that had been forward actors in the rebellion will-
ing to do anything rather than come under the subjection of
Basihus again, and such few as durst gainsay being cut off by
present slaughter.
But, withal, as the chief matter of their coming to him,
they told Anaxius that the fair Queen Helen was come with
an honourable retinue to the town, humbly desiring leave to
see Amphialus, whom she had sought in many places of the
world ; and, lastly, being returned into her own country, she
heard together of the late siege, and of his combat with the
strange knight who had dangerously hurt him ; whereupon,
full of loving care, which she was content even to publish to
the world, how ungratefully soever he dealt with her, she had
gotten leave of Basilius to come by his frontiers to carry away
Amphialus with her to the excellentest surgeon then known,
whom she had in her country, but so old as not able to travel,
but had given her sovereign anointments to preserve his body
withal, till he might be brought unto him ; and that Basilius
had granted leave, either natural kindness prevailing over all
the offences done, or rather glad to make any passage which
might lead him out of his country and from his daughters.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 359
This discourse Lycurgus understanding of Helen, delivered to
his brother, with her vehement desire to see the body, and take
her last farewell of him. Anaxius, though he were fallen out
with all womankind, in respect of the hate he bare the sisters,
whom he accounted murtherers of Amphialus, yet at his
brother's request granted her leave ; and she, poor lady, with
grievous expectation and languishing desire, carried her faint
legs to the place where he lay, either not breathing, or in all
appearance breathing nothing but death.
In which piteous plight when she saw him, though sorrow
had set before her mind the pitifullest conceit thereof that it
could paint, yet the present sight went beyond all the former
apprehensions, so that beginning to kneel by the body, her
sight ran from her service rather than abide such a sight,
and she fell in a swound upon him, as if she could not choose
but die of his wounds. But when her breath, aweary to be
closed up in woe, broke the prison of her fair hps and brought
memory, with his servant senses, to his natural office, she
yet made the breath convey these doleful words with it : —
" Alas !" said she, " Amphialus, what strange disasters be
these, that, having sought thee so long, I should be now sorry
to find thee ! that these eyes should look upon Amphialus
and be grieved withal ! that I should have thee in my power
without glory, and embrace thee without comfort ! How
often have I blest the means that might bring me near thee !
Now woe worth the cause that brings me so near thee !
Often, alas ! often hast thou disdained my tears, but now, my
dear Amphialus, receive them ; these eyes can serve for
nothing else but to weep for thee : since thou wouldst never
vouchsafe them thy comfort, yet disdain not them thy sorrow.
I would they had been more dear unto thee, for then hadst thou
lived. Woe is me that thy noble heart could love who hated
thee, and hate who loved thee ! Alas ! why should not my
36o ARCADIA.— Book III.
faith to thee cover my other defects, who only sought to make
my crown thy foot-stool, myself thy servant ? That was all
my ambition, and, alas ! thou disdainedst it to serve them by
whom thy incomparable self wert disdained. Yet, O Philoclea,
wheresoever you are, pardon me if I speak in the bitterness
of my soul, excellent may you be in all other things, and
excellent sure you are since he loved you, your want of pity,
where the fault only was infiniteness of desert, cannot be
excused. I would, O God ! I would that you had granted his
deserved suit of marrying you, and that I had been your
serving-maid, to have made my estate the foil of your felicity,
so he had lived. How many weary steps have I trodden
after thee, while my only complaint was that thou wert un-
kind ! Alas ! I would now thou wert to be unkind. Alas !
why wouldst thou not command my service in persuading
Philoclea to love thee 1 Who could, or, if every one could,
who would have recounted thy perfection so well as I ? Who,
with such kindly passions, could have stirred pity for thee as
I, who should have delivered not only the words but the
tears I had of thee, and so shouldst thou have exercised thy
disdain in me, and yet used my service for thee .'"'
With that the body moving somewhat, and giving a
groan full of death's music, she fell upon his face and kissed
him, and withal cried out : " O miserable I, that have only
favour by misery !" and then would she have returned to a
fresh career of complaints, when an aged and wise gentle-
man came to her and besought her to remember what was
fit for her greatness, wisdom, and honour ; and withal, that
it was fitter to show her love in carrying the body to her
excellent surgeon, first applying such excellent medicines as
she had received of him for that purpose, rather than only
show herself a woman-lover in fruitless lamentations. She
was straight warned with the obedience of an overthrown
ARCADIA.— Book 111. 361
mind, and therefore leaving some surgeons of her own to
dress the body, went herself to Anaxius, and humbling her-
self to him as low as his own pride could wish, besought him
that since the surgeons there had utterly given him over, that
he would let her carry him away in her litter with her, since
the worst he could have should be to die, and to die in her
arms that loved him above all things ; and where he should
have such monuments erected over him as were fit for her
love and his worthiness ; beseeching him withal, since she was
in a country of enemies, where she trusted more to Anaxius'
valour than Basilius' promise, that he would convey them
safely out of those territories. Her reasons something moved
him, but nothing thoroughly persuaded him but the last
request of his help, which he straight promised, warranting
all security as long as that sword had his master alive. She
as happy therein as unhappiness could be, having received
as small comfort of her own surgeons as of the others, caused
yet the body to be easily conveyed into the litter, all the
people then beginning to roar and cry as though never till
then they had lost their lord ; and if the terror of Anaxius
had not kept them under, they would have mutinied rather
than suffered his body to be carried away.
But Anaxius himself riding before the litter, with the choice
men of that place, they were afraid even to cry, though they
were ready to cry for fear, but because that they might do,
everybody forced, even with harming themselves, to do honour
to him, some throwing themselves upon the ground, some
tearing their clothes and casting dust upon their heads, and
some even wounding themselves and sprinkling their own
blood in the air. Which so moved Anaxius to consider the
loss of his friend that, his mind apter to revenge than tender-
ness, he presently giving order to his brother to keep the
prisoners safe and unvisited till his return from conveying
3^^ ARCADIA.— Book III.
Helen, he sent a messenger to the sisters to tell them this
courteous message : that at his return, with his own hands,
he would cut off their heads and send them for tokens to
their father. This message was brought unto the sisters as
they sate at that time together with Zelmane, conferring how
to carry themselves, having heard of the death of Amphialus ;
and, as no expectation of death is so painful as where the
resolution is hindered by the intermixing of hopes, so did this
new alarm, though not remove, yet move somewhat the con-
stancy of their minds, which were so unconstantly dealt with.
" Loved sister," said the excellent Pamela, " see in how
many acts our tragedy is. Fortune is not yet weary of vex-
ing us ; but even in this dark I see a light of comfort yet.
And let death come : what is it but a bugbear only? Only"
— with that she stayed a little and sighed — " only, my Philo-
clea" — then she bowed down and whispered in her ear — " only
Musidorus, my shepherd, comes between me and death, and
makes me think I should not die because I know he would not
I should die." And so stayed they, having yet that comfort
that they might tarry together ; Pamela nobly, Philoclea
sweetly, and Zelmane sadly and desperately, none of them
entertaining sleep, which they thought should shortly begin
never to awake.
But Anaxius came home, having safely conducted Helen ;
and safely he might well do it, for, though many of Basilius'
knights would have attempted something upon Anaxius, by
that means to deliver the ladies, yet Philanax, having received
his master's commandment, and knowing his word was given,
would not consent unto it ; and the Black Knight, who by
then was able to carry abroad his wounds, did not know
thereof, but was bringing force, by force to deliver his lady.
So as Anaxius, interpreting it rather fear than faith, and
making even chance an argument of his virtue, returned, and,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 363
as soon as he was returned, with a felon heart calling his
brothers up with him, he went into the chamber where they
were all three together, with still intention to kill the sisters
with his own hands, and send their'heads for tokens to their
father ; though his brothers, who were otherwise inclined,
dissuaded hirn ; but his reverence stayed their persuasions.
But when he was come into the chamber with the very words
of choleric threatening climbing up his throat, his eyes first
lighted upon Pamela, who, hearing he was coming, and look-
ing for death, thought she would keep her own majesty in
welcoming it, but the beams thereof so struck his eyes, with
such a counterbuff* upon his pride, that, if his anger could
not so quickly love, nor his pride so easily honour, yet both
were forced to find a worthiness ; which while it bred a
pause in him, Zelmane, who had already in her mind both
what and how to say, stept out unto him, and with a resolute
staidness, void either of anger, kindness, disdain, or humble-
ness, spake in this sort : —
" Anaxius," said she, " if fame hath not been over-partial
to thee, thou art a man of exceeding valour. Therefore I do
call thee even before that virtue, and will make it the judge
between us. And now I do affirm thou doest cowardly in
going about by the death of these excellent ladies, to prevent
the just punishment that hereafter they, by the powers which
they, better than their father or any other could make, might
lay upon thee, and doest most basely in once presenting thy-
self as an executioner, a vile office upon men, and in a just
* Coiiuterbitff here means a blow; ordinarily "buff" is the
leathern hide used as armour. Bayard strikes his enemy upon the
buff; and " buffer' —whence our "buffer"— is that which defends one
from blows.
" And for the good old cause stood htff
'Gainst many a bitter kick and cuff."
—Butler, Hudibras, Ep.
364 ARCADIA.— Book III.
cause, beyond the degree of any vile word in so unjust a
cause, and upon ladies, and such ladies. And therefore, as a
hangman, I say thou art unworthy to be counted a knight,
or to be admitted into tlie company of knights. Neither
for what I say will I allege other reasons of wisdom or jus-
tice to prove my speech, because I know thou doest disdain
to be tied to their rules ; but even in thine own virtue, whereof
thou so much gloriest, I will make my trial, and therefore
defy thee, by the death of one of us two, to prove or disprove
these reproaches. Choose thee what arms thou likest ; I only
demand that these ladies, whom I defend, may in liberty see
the combat."
When Zelmane began her speech, the excellency of her
beauty and grace made him a little content to hear. Besides
that, a new lesson he had read in Pamela had already taught
him some regard ; but when she entered into bravery of
speech, he thought at first a mad and railing humour pos-
sessed her, till finding the speeches hold well together, and at
length come to flat challenge of combat, he stood leaning
back with his body and head, sometimes with bent brows
looking upon the one side of her, sometimes of the other,
beyond marvel marvelling that he, who had never heard such
speeches from any knight, should be thus rebuffed by a
woman, and that marvel made him hear out her speech,
which ended, he turned his head to his brother Zoilus and
said nothing, but only lifting up his eyes, smiled. But Zel-
mane finding his mind, " Anaxius," said she, " perchance
thou disdainest to answer me, because, as a woman, thou
thinkest me not fit to be fought withal ; but I tell thee that I
have been trained up in martial matters with so good success
that I have many times overcome braver knights than thyself,
and am well known to be equal in feats of arms to the famous
Pyrocles, who slew thy valiant uncle, the giant Euardes."
ARCADIA.— Book III. 365
The remembrance of his uncle's death something nettled him,
so as he answered thus : —
" Indeed," said he, " any woman may be as valiant as that
coward and traitorly boy, who slew my uncle traitorously, and
after ran from me in the plain field. Five thousand such
could not have overcome Euardes but by falsehood : but I
sought him all over Asia, following him still from one of his
cony-holes* to another, till coming into this country I heard
of my friend's being besieged, and so came to blow away the
wretches that troubled him. But wheresoever the miserable
boy fly, heaven nor hell shall keep his heart from being torn
by these hands." " Thou liest in thy throat !" said Zelmane ;
" that boy, wherever he went, did so noble acts as thy heart,
as proud as it is, dares not think of, much less perform. But,
to please thee the better with my presence, I tell thee no
creature can be nearer of kin to him than myself ; and so well
we love, that he would not be sorrier for his own death than
for mine — I being begotten by his father of an Amazon lady ;
and therefore thou canst not devise to revenge thyself more
upon him than by killing me, which if thou darest do, man-
fully do it, otherwise, if thou harm these incomparable ladies
or myself without daring to fight with me, I protest before
these knights, and before heaven and earth, that will reveal
thy shame, that thou art the beggarliest, dastardly villain
that dishonoureth the earth with his steps ; and if thoulettest
me overlive them, so will I blaze thee."
But all this could not move Anaxius, but that he only said,
" Evil should it become the terror of the world to fight, much
worse to scold with thee. But," said he, " for the death of
these same," pointing to the princesses, " of my grace I give
* Cony-holes — Rabbit-burrows. " Here's one of Sir Ralph Non-
such liis rabbet- catchers : there's scarce a ferret sees further into a
coney- hole.'' — HOWARD, " Man of Newmarket," 1678.
366 ARCADIA.— Book HI.
them life ;" and withal, going to Pamela, and ofifering to take
her by the chin, "And as for you, minion,"* said he, " yield
but gently to my will, and you shall not only hve, but live so
happily " He would have said further, when Pamela,
displeased both with words, matter, and manner, putting him
away with her fair hand, " Proud beast !" said she, " yet thou
playest worse thy comedy than thy tragedy. For my part,
assure thyself, since my destiny is such that each moment
my life and death stand in equal balance, I had rather have
thee, and think thee far fitter, to be my hangman than my
husband,"
Pride and anger would fain have cruelly revenged so bitter
an answer, but already Cupid had begun to make it his sport
to pull his plumes, so that, unused to a way of courtesy, and
put out of his bias of pride, he hastily went away, grumbling
to himself, between threatening and wishing, leaving his
brothers with them, the elder of whom, Lycurgus, liked Philo-
clea, and Zoilus would needs love Zelmane, or at least enter-
tain themselves with making them believe so. Lycurgus
more bragged, and, near his brother's humour, began with
setting forth their blood, their deeds, how many they had
despised of most excellent women, how much they were
bound to them that would seek that of them ; in sum, in
all his speeches more like the bestower than the desirer of
felicity, whom it was an excellent pastime, to those that
would delight in the play of virtue, to see with what a witty
ignorance she would not understand ; and how, acknowledg-
ing his perfections, she would make that one of his per-
fections not to be injurious to ladies. But when he knew
not how to reply, then would he fall to touching and toying,
* Minion — A term of endearment ; also used in the sense of any-
thing small, delicate, or agreeable. (Fr. migjion) " His hynes
lykythe your mynyon howse." — State Papers, i. 307.
ARCADIA.— Book III, 367
still viewing his graces in no glass but self-liking, to which
Philoclea's shanriefastness and humbleness were as strong
resisters as choler and disdain ; for, though she yielded not,
he thought she was to be overcome, and that thought awhile
stayed him from further violence. But Zelmane had eye to
his behaviour, and set it in her memory upon the score of
revenge, while she herself was no less attempted by Zoilus.
But when, after their fruitless labours, they had gone away,
called by their brother, who began to be perplexed between
new-conceived desires, and disdain to be disdained, Zelmane,
who with most assured quietness of judgment looked into their
present estate, earnestly persuaded the two sisters that, to
avoid the mischiefs of proud outrage, they would only so far
suit their behaviour to their estates as they might win
time, which as it could not bring them to worse case than
they were, so it might bring forth unexpected rehef. And
so, when they were again solicited in that little-pleasing
petition, Pamela forced herself to make answer to Anaxius
that, if her father gave his consent, she would make herself
believe that such was the heavenly determination, since she
had no means to avoid it. Anaxius, who was the most frank
promiser to himself of success, nothing doubted of Basilius'
consent, but rather assured himself he would be his orator in
that matter ; and therefore he chose out an officious servant,
whom he esteemed very wise because he never found him
but just of his opinion, and willed him to be his ambassador
to Basilius, and to make him know that if he meant to have
his daughter both safe and happy, and desired himself to
have such a son-in-law as would not only protect him in his
quiet course, but, if he listed to accept it, would give him the
monarchy of the world, that then he should receive Anaxius,
who never before knew what it was to pray anything. That,
if he did not, he would make him know that the power of
368 ARCADIA.— Book III.
Anaxius was in everything beyond his will, and yet his will
not to be resisted by any other power.
The messenger with speed performed his lord's command-
ment to Basilius, who by nature quiet, and by superstition
made doubtful, was loath to take any matter of arms in hand,
wherein already he had found so slow success, though Phi-
lanax vehemently urged him thereunto, making him see
that his retiring back did encourage injuries. But Basilius,
betwixt the fear of Anaxius' might, the passion of his love
and jealousy of his estate, was so perplexed, that, not able to
determine, he took the common course of men, to fly only
then to devotion when they want resolution ; therefore, de-
taining the messenger with delays, he deferred the directing
of his course to the counsel of Apollo, which, because himself
at that time could not well go to require, he intrusted the
matter to his best trusted Philanax, who, as one in whom
obedience was sufficient reason unto him, went with diligence
to Delphos, where being entered into the secret place of the
temple, and having performed the sacrifices usual, the spirit
that possessed the prophesying woman with a sacred fury
attended not his demand, but, as if it would argue him of
incredulity, told him, not in dark wonted speeches, but plainly
to be understood, what he came for, and that he should return
to Basilius and will him to deny his daughters to Anaxius
and his brothers, for that they were reserved for such as
were better beloved of the gods. That he should not doubt,
for they should return unto him safely and speedily, and that
he should keep on his solitary course till both Philanax and
Basilius fully agreed in the understanding of the former
prophecy, withal commanding Philanax from thenceforward
to give -tribute, but not oblation, to human wisdom.
Philanax, then finding that reason cannot show itself more
reasonable than to leave reasoning in things above reason,
ARCADIA.— Book III, 369
returns to his lord, and, like one that preferred truth before
the maintaining of an opinion, hid nothing from him ; nor
from thenceforth durst any more dissuade him from that
which he found by the celestial providence directed ; but he
himself looking to repair the government as much as in so
broken an estate by civil dissension he might, and fortifying
with notable art both the lodges so as they were almost made
unapproachable, he left Basilius to bemoan the absence of
his daughters, and to bewail the imprisonment of Zelmane ;
yet wholly given holily to obey the oracle, he gave a resolute
negative unto the messenger of Anaxius, who all this while
had waited for it, yet in good terms desiring him to show
himself in respect of his birth and profession so princely a
knight as, without forcing him to seek the way of force, to
deliver in noble sort those ladies unto him, and so should the
injury have been by Amphialus and the benefit in him.
The messenger went back with this answer, yet having
ever used to sugar anything which his master was to receive,
he told him that when Basilius first understood his desires,
it did over-reach so far all his most hopeful expectations that
he thought it were too great a boldness to hearken to such a
man, in whom the heavens had such interest, without asking
the god's counsel, and therefore had sent his principal
counsellor to Delphos, who, although he kept the matter
never so secret, yet his diligence, inspired by Anaxius' pri-
vilege over all worldly things, had found out the secret, which
was that he should not presume to marry his daughter to one
who already was enrolled among the demi-gods, and yet much
less 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, now began to find another wisdom to be above
that judged so rightly of him ; and where in this time of his
B B
^7o ARCADIA.— Book III.
servant's waiting for Basilius' resolution he and his brothers
had courted their ladies, as whom they vouchsafed to have
for their wives, he resolved now to dally no longer in delays,
but to make violence his orator, since he had found per-
suasions had gotten nothing but answers. Which intention
he opened to his brothers, who gave sputs to his runnings,
and (worthy men), having neither virtue in themselves nor
tendering it in others, went headlong to make an evil consort
of love and force, when Anaxius had word that they from the
tower descried some companies of armed men. He sent his
servants, therefore, to the gates, leaving none within but his
brothers and himself
But, while he was directing what he would have done, his
youngest brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission,
went in the name of Anaxius to tell the sisters, that since he
had answer from their father that he and his brother Lycur-
gus should have them in what sort it pleased them, that they
would now grant them no longer time, but presently to
determine whether they thought it more honourable comfort
to be compelled or persuaded. Pamela made him answer
that, in a matter whereon the whole state of her life de-
pended, and wherein she had ever answered she would not
lead, but follow her parents' pleasure, she thought it reason
she should, either by letter or particular messenger, under-
stand something from themselves, and not have their behef
bound to the report of their partial servant ; and, therefore,
as to their words, she and her sister had ever a simple and
true resolution, so against their unjust force God, they hoped,
would either arm their lives or take away their lives.
" Well, ladies," said he, " I will leave my brothers, who by-
and-by will come unto you, to be their own ambassadors ; for
my part, I must now do myself service."
And with that, turning up his mustachoes, and marching
ARCADIA.— Book III. 371
as if he would begin a pavin,* he went toward Zelmane ; but
Zehnane having had, all this while of the messenger's being
with Basilius, much to do to keep those excellent ladies from
seeking by the passport of death to escape those base dan-
gers whereunto they found themselves subject, still hoping
that Musidorus would find some means to deliver them, and,
therefore, had often, both by her own example and comfort-
able reasons, persuaded them to overpass many insolent
indignities of their proud suitors, who thought it was a suf-
ficient favour not to do the uttermost injury, now come again
to the strait she most feared for them, either of death or
dishonour, if heroical courage would have let her, she had
been beyond herself amazed ; but that yet held up her wit
to attend the uttermost occasion, which even then brought
his hairy forehead unto her ; for Zoilus, smacking his lips as
for the prologue of a kiss, and something advancing himself,
tried, indeed, to snatch it, and proffered marriage, but
Zelmane answered she was bound by a vow never to marry
any one who was not superior to her in fight. Zoilus, laughing
with a hearty loudness, said she should soon know what a
man at arms he was, and, without reverence to the ladies,
began to struggle with her. Zelmane, abiding no longer
abode in the matter, she that had not put off, though she
had disguised Pyrocles, being far fuller of stronger nimble-
ness, tripped up his feet, so that he fell down at hers, and,
withal, meaning to pursue what she had begun, pulled out
his sword which he ware about him ; but, before she
could strike him withal, he gat up and ran to a fair chamber,
where he had left his two brethren preparing themselves to
come down to their mistresses. But she followed at his heels,
and even as he came to throw himself into their arms for suc-
cour, she hit him with his own sword such a blow upon the
* Pavin — A grave Spanish dance (Sp. pavdna).
B B 2
372 ARCADIA.— Book HI.
waist that she almost cut him asunder at once. But Anaxius,
seeing before his eyes the miserable end of his brother, fuller
of despite than wrath, and yet fuller of wrath than sorrow,
looking with a woeful eye upon his brother Lycurgus,
'• Brother," said he, " chastise this vile creature, while I go
down and take order lest further mischief arise ;" and so
went down to the ladies, whom he visited, doubting there
had been some further practice than yet he conceived ; but,
finding them only strong in patience, he went and locked a
great iron gate, by which only anybody might mount to that
part of the castle, rather to conceal the shame of his brother,
slain by a woman, than for doubt of any other annoyance,
and then went up to receive 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 revenge, but that she leaped to a target as
one that well knew the first mark of valour to be defence ;
and then accepting the opportunity of Anaxius' going away,
she waited not the pleasure of Lycurgus, but, without any
words, which she ever thought vain when resolution took the
place of persuasion, gave her own heart the contentment to
be the assailer. Lycurgus, who was in the disposition of his
nature hazardous, and by the lucky passing through many
dangers grown confident in himself, went toward her, rather
as to a spoil than to a fight, so far from fear that his assured-
ness disdained to hope. But when her sword made demon-
strations above all flattery of arguments, and that he found
she pressed so upon him as showed that her courage sprang
not from blind despair, but was guarded both with cunning
and strength, self-love then first in him divided itself from
vainglory, and made him find that the world of worthiness
had not his whole globe comprised in his breast, but that it
was necessary to have strong resistance against so strong
ARCADIA.— Book III. 373
assailing. And so between them, for a few blows, Mars him-
self might have been delighted to look on ; but Zelmane, who
knew that in her case slowness of victory was little better
than ruin, with the bellows of hate blew the fire of courage,
and he, striking a main 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 breast, which he put by with his target,
as he was lifting up his sword to strike again, she let fall the
piece of her shield, and with her left hand catching his sword
of the inside of the pommel, with nimble and strong
sleight she had gotten his sword out of his hand before his
sense could convey to his imagination what was to be doubted,
and, having now two swords against one shield, meaning
not foohshly to be ungrateful to good fortune, while he was
no more amazed with his being unweaponed than with the
suddenness thereof, she gave him such a wound upon his
head, in despite of the shield's over-weak resistance, that he
fell to the ground, astonished with pain, and aghast with fear ;
with that she made her sword drink the blood of his heart,
though he, wresting his body, and with a countenance pre-
pared to excuse, would fain have delayed the receiving of
death's ambassadors.
But neither that stayed Zelmane's hand, nor yet Anaxius'
cry unto her, who, having made fast the iron gate, even then
came to the top of the stairs, when, contrary to all his imagi-
nations, he saw his brother lie at Zelmane's mercy ; therefore,
crying, promising, and threatening to her to hold her hand,
the last groan of his brother was the only answer he could
get to his unrespected eloquence. But then pity would fain
have drawn tears, which fury, in their spring, dried ; and
anger would fain have spoken, but that disdain sealed up his
lips ; but in his heart he blasphemed heaven that it could have
374 .ARCADIA.— Book III.
such a power over him ; no less ashamed of the victory he
should have of her than of his brother's overthrow, and no
more spited that it was yet^unrevenged than that the revenge
should be no greater than a woman's destruction ; therefore,
with no speech, but such a groaning cry as often is the
language of sorrowful anger, he came running at Zelmane,
use of fighting then serving instead of patient consideration
what to do. Guided therewith, though he did not with know-
ledge, yet did he according to knowledge, pressing upon
Zelmane in such a well-defended manner that, in all the
combats that ever she had fought, she had never more need of
quick senses and ready virtue.* For being one of the greatest
men of stature then living, as he did fully answer that
stature in greatness of might, so did he exceed both in great-
ness of courage, which, with a countenance formed by the
nature both of his mind and body to an almost horrible
(fierceness, was able to have carried fear to any mind that
was not privy to itself of a true and constant worthiness.
\ But Pyrocles, whose soul might well be separated from his
' body, but never alienated from the remembering of what was
comely, if at the first he did a little apprehend the dangerous-
ness of his adversary, whom once before he had something
tried, and now perfectly saw, as the very picture of forcible
fury, yet was that apprehension quickly stayed in him,
rather strengthening than weakening his virtue by that wrest-
ling, like wine growing the stronger by being moved. So that
they both, prepared in hearts and able in hands, did honour
solitariness there with such a combat as might have de-
manded 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 glory. There
* Virtue — Here used in the Roman sense ; for with them virtics
was military valour.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 375
was strength against nimbleness, rage against resolution, fury v)
against virtue, confidence against courage, pride against /'
nobleness ; love in both breeding mutual hatred and desire ^
of revenging, the injuries of his brothers' slaughter to Anaxius
being like Philoclea's captivity to Pyrocles. Who had seen
the one would have thought nothing could have resisted ;
who had marked the other would have marvelled that the
other had so long resisted. But like two contrary tides,
either of which are able to carry worlds of ships and men
upon them, with such swiftness as nothing seems able to
withstand them, yet, meeting one another, with mingling
their watery forces and struggling together it is long to say
whether stream gets the victory ; so between these, if Pallas
had been there, she could scarcely have told whether she had
nursed better in the feats of arms. The Irish greyhound
against the English mastift", the sword-fish against the whale,
the rhinoceros against the elephant, might be models, and but
models, of this combat. Anaxius was better armed defensively,
for, beside a strong casque bravely covered,* wherewith he
covered his head, he had a huge shield, such, perchance, as
Achilles showed to the pale walls of Troy, wherewithal that
great body was covered. But Pyrocles, utterly unarmed for
defence, to offend had the advantage ; for in either hand he
had a sword, and with both hands nimbly performed that
office. And according as they were diversely furnished,
so they did differ in the manner of fighting ; for Anaxius
most by warding, and Pyrocles oftenest by avoiding, resisted
the adversary's assault. Both hasty to end, yet both often
staying for advantage. Time, distance, and motion custom
made them so perfect in that, as if they had been fellow-
counsellors, and not enemies, each knew the other's mind, and
knew how to prevent it ; so as their strength failed them
* Bravely covered — That is, handsomely ornamented.
2,76 ARCADIA.— Book III.
sooner than their skill, and yet their breath failed them
sooner than their strength. And breathless indeed they grew
before either could complain of any loss of blood. So that
consenting by the mediation of necessity to a breathing time
of truce, being withdrawn a little one from the other, Anaxius
stood leaning upon his sword with his grim eye so settled
upon Zelmane as is wont to be the look of an earnest
thought. Which Zelmane marking, and, according to the
Pyroclean nature,* fuller of gay bravery in the midst than in
the beginning of danger, " What is it," said she, "Anaxius,
that thou so deeply musest on t Doth thy brothers' example
make thee think of thy fault past, or of thy coming punish-
ment ?" " I think," said he, " what spiteful god it should be
who, envying my glory, hath brought me to such a wayward
case that neither thy death can be a revenge nor thy over-
throw a victory." " Thou doest well indeed," said Zelmane,
'' to impute thy case to the heavenly providence which will
haye thy pride find itself, even in that whereof thou art most
proud, punished by the weak sex which thou most contemnest."
But then having sufficiently rested themselves, they re-
newed again their combat, far more terrible than before, like
nimble vaulters, who at the first and second leap do but stir
and, as it were, awake the fiery and airy parts, which after in
the other leaps they do with more excellency exercise. For
in this pausing each had brought to his thoughts the manner
of the other's fighting, and the advantages which by that,
and by the quality of their weapons, they might work them-
selves, and so again repeated the lesson they had said before
more perfectly by the using of it. Anaxius oftener used
blows, his huge force, as it were, more delighting therein, and
* Pyi-odean nature — Sidney himself and his father both served as
models for Pyrocles. This admirable "gay bravery" was observable
in botli.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 2>77
the large protection of his shield animating him unto it.
Pyrocles, of a more fine and deliver strength, watching his
time when to give fit thrusts, as, with the quick obeying of
his body to his eye's quick commandment, he shunned any
harm Anaxius could do to him, so would he soon have made
an end of Anaxius if he had not found him a man of won-
derful and almost matchless excellency in matters of arms.
Pyrocles used divers feignings to bring Anaxius on into some
inconvenience. But Anaxius, keeping a sound manner of
fighting, never offered but seeing fair cause, and then followed
it with well-governed violence. Thus spent they a great
time, striving to do, and with striving to do wearying them-
selves more than with the very doing. Anaxius, finding Zel-
mane so near unto him that with little motion he might reach
her, knitting all his strength together, at that tmie manly
foined* at her face. But Zelmane, strongly putting it by with
her right-hand sword, coming in with her left foot and hand,
would have given a sharp visitationf to his right side, but that
he was fain to leap away. Whereat ashamed, as having
never done so much before in his life ^
Thus far the worthy author had revised and enlarged that first-
written Arcadia of his, which only passed from hand to hand and
%vas never printed ; having a ptirpose likewise to have new ordered,
angmented, and concluded the rest, had he not been prevented by
untimely death. So that all which follozveth here of this work
remained as it was done and sent away in several loose sheets, being
never after reviewed nor so much as seen altogether by himself, with-
out any certain disposition or perfect order. Yet for that it was his,
* Foined — " Foin " is to fence ; Ruddiman says from Yx. poindre,
pungere, to prick or wound. "Than they assembled togyderin al
partes, and began to foyne with speares and stryke with axes and
swordes." — Froissart, Cronycle, vol. ii. Lord Berners' Trans.
f Visitation — It is curious to note that this word is used similarly
by those gentlemen who describe prize-fights in our own day.
378 ARCADIA.— Book III,
hnvsoever deprived of the just grace it should have had, 7vas held
too good to be lost ; and therefore with much labour zvere the best
coherencies that could be gathered out of those scattered papers made,
and afterwards printed as Jtow it is, 07ily by her noble care to zvhose
dear hand they were first committed, and for whose delight and
entertainme7it only u?idertaken.
What conclusion it should have had, or how far the work have
been extended, had it had his last hand thereunto, was only knozun to
his aion spirit, where only those admirable images were — and jiozvhere
else — to be cast.
And here we are likenuise Jitterly deprived of the relation hozu this
combat ended, and how the ladies, by discovery of the approaching
forces, wet-e delivej'ed and restored to Basilius; how Dor us returned to
his old master Dametas : all which uji^ortunate maim zve Diust be
content to suffer with the rest.
[Sir William Alexander, afterwards Earl of Sterling, says
the " Retrospective Review" (vol. ii. p. 30), " has attempted
to supply the defect existing in the third book, as an imitator
not unworthy of Sidney." And, again, the reviewer adds
that " this performance, as well as the other continuations, is
a proof, from the exactness with which the style of Sidney is
copied, what attention had been paid to the model." Sir W,
A., or, as the printer has it, " S. JV.A." speaks more modestly
and truly of his own work. "If this little essay," he says, "has
no perfection, yet shall it serve for a shadow to give lustre to
the rest." Truly that is all it can serve for. Its style is
a most bombastical imitation of Sidney's, constantly over-
running the modesty of nature by such violence as this :
" The impetuous storm that transported the spirit of
Anaxius /md quickly blowfi him down the stairs and np the
door, his sword ushering his way, till his eyes were encoun-
tered by the beams of the lightning weapons of a small
ARCADIA.— Boo c ItL 379
number," &c. And, again : "His soul might have furnished all
the infernal furies with ftcry, and yet have continued most
furious of all itself. Rage and disdain, burning his bosom,
made him utter a roaring voice, as if his breath had been
able to have blown away the world, which, for the sound his
sword made, could not distinctly be understood." Such seems
to be Sir W. A.'s notion of Sidney's curious and often beauti-
ful antithetical style. Nor does the Earl of Sterling succeed
better in imitating those wise and proverbial sentences which
Sidney has scattered through his works ; to take a couple of
instances : " '// is an easy matter^ said Pamela, ''for one who
ca?i deceive to dissenible, and where great familiarity is, no
ceremonial duty can be observed/ " the first is obvious enough,
the other not so. The best and only part worth preserving
is the conclusion of an episode of the death of Phihsides, in
which the author has, he tells us, pictured the dying moments
of Sidney, differently, indeed, from Lord Brooke, but worth
preserving as a curiosity; it has nothing to do with the
story: —
" With this the Black Knight, weeping, embraced him in
his arms, and told him what he was, saying he was glad
that his vow was performed ; he being a benefited witness,
not the endangered subject of his valour. Then contentment
budding forth in his [Philisides'] countenance, flourished in a
smile, and having kissed his friends, desiring to live in their
memory, wished them as contented lives as his was a death.
He died as joyfully as he had left them sorrowful, who had
known him a mirror of courage and courtesy, of learning
and arms ; so that it seemed that Mars had begotten him
upon one of the Muses."
It is believed, upon a careful review of Sir W. A.'s work,
that the reader will be better served by a resume of the por-
tion supplied, which, while it saves valuable space, sufficiently
38o ARCADIA.— Book III.
connects the portions of the story and supplies the missing
pages of Sidney's romance.]
Anaxius, in a great rage, is returning with a terrible fury
to the onslaught, when his ears are saluted by a martial
noise which reminds him of the bloody scene then being
enacted in the court of the castle. He flies from the fighting
of one to the fighting with many, anxious for an object
worthy of his great wrath. He rushes impetuously to the
scene of action, the courage of his followers being revived at
his appearance, and the fury of his opponents is redoubled.
The Black Knight preserves his coolness in the midst of his
love and courage. Anaxius upbraids his train for their want
of courage in not vanquishing their enemies, plunges himself
into the thickest of the fight, and is wounded by a dart from
an unknown hand. Zelmane, who has followed Anaxius,
refuses to fight any but him, upbraids him for first injuring a
woman and then fleeing her just violence. Anaxius, troubled
at her words, gives orders to Armagines, his nephew, to shut
all the castle gates, that no enemy may escape, and signs to
Zelmane to follow him. Only too glad of an opportunity to
wreak her vengeance, Zelmane rushes after him to a back
court of the castle. Here they fight. Anaxius, rioting in
rage, puts forth all his strength at first, and increases his
anger because he is not at once successful. Zelmane runs
Anaxius through the heart, and at the same time his sword
pierces her body. Anaxius dies ; Zelmane rises, draws the
sword from her enemy's body, and is retreating, with a sword
in each hand and one in her breast, when she meets Musi-
dorus. Guided by one acquainted with the castle, they are
seeking a room to rest in, when they hear mournful sounds,
and, entering an adjoining chamber, find Philoclea and
ARCADIA.— Book IH. 381
Pamela. Zelmane, recognised as Pyrocles, relates her ad-
ventures as Zelmane, and receives the praises of the ladies.
Musidorus betrays himself to Pamela, who hides her love
under a mask of hate and chides him. Having somewhat
softened her heart towards him, he takes Pyrocles away to
dress his wounds. A messenger arrives from Basilius, who
has heard of the exploits of Musidorus and Zelmane, convey-
ing his gratitude and anxiety for the recovery of Zelmane.
The queen Gynecia sends a box of ointment for her wound.
Pamela desires Musidorus to return to his old master ; he,
willing to do all she wishes, goes away, after taking affec-
tionate leave of Pyrocles. The next day Zelmane, Philoclea,
and Pamela depart, and are met by Basilius, who embraces
his daughters and Zelmane ; they arrive at the castle, and
Gynecia dresses Zelmane's wound in the presence of the
jealous Basilius, to the great relief of Zelmane, who is as
tired of Basilius as she is afraid of Gynecia.
From hence the history is again contijiiied cnit of the azithor''s ozvn
writings and conceits, as follo7veth : —
After that Basilius, according to the oracle's promise, had
received home his daughters, and settled himself again in his
solitary course and accustomed company, there passed not
many days ere the now fully recomforted Dorus, having
waited a time of Zelmane's walking alone towards her little
arbour, took leave of his master Dametas' husbandry to
follow her. Near whereunto overtaking her, and sitting down
together among the sweet flowers, whereof that place was
very plentiful, under the pleasant shade of a broad-leaved
sycamore, they recounted one to another their strange pilgri-
mage of passions, omitting nothing which open-hearted friend-
ship is wont to lay forth where there is cause to communicate
382 ARCADIA.— Book III.
both joys and sorrows ; for indeed there is no sweeter taste of
friendship than the couphng of souls in this mutuahty either
of condohng or comforting, where the oppressed mind finds
itself not altogether miserable, since it is sure of one which
is feelingly sorry for his misery, and the joyful spends not his
joy, either alone or there where it may be envied, but may
freely send it to such a well-grounded object, from whence he
shall be sure to receive a sweet reflection of the same joy,
and, as in a clear mirror of sincere goodwill, see a lively
picture of his own gladness. But, after much discourse on
either part, Dorus- his heart scarce serving him to come to
the point whereunto his then coming had been wholly directed,
as loath in the kindest sort to discover to his friend his own
unkindness, at length, one word emboldening another, made
known to Zelmane how Pamela, upon his vehement oath to
offer no force unto her till he had invested her in the duchy
of Thessalia, had condescended to his stealing her away to
the next seaport : that besides the strange humours she
saw her father more and more falling into, and unreasonable
restraint of her liberty, whereof she knew no cause but light-
grounded jealousies, added to the hate of that manner of life,
and confidence she had in his virtue, the chiefest reason had .
won her to this was the late danger she stood in of losing
him, the like whereof — not unlike to fall if this course were
continued — she chose rather to die than again to undergo :
that now they waited for nothing else but some fit time for
their escape, by the absence of their three loathsome com-
panions, in whom folly engendered suspicion.
"And therefore now," said Dorus, "my dear cousin, to
whom nature began my friendship, education confirmed it,
and virtue hath made it eternal, here have I discovered the
very foundation whereupon my life is built : be you the judge
betwixt me and my fortune. The violence of love is not
ARCADIA.— Book III, 383
unknown to you ; and I know my case shall never want
pity in your consideration. How all the joys of my heart do
leave me in thinking I must for a time be absent from you,
the eternal truth is witness unto me. I know I should not so
sensibly feel the pangs of my last departure. But this en-
chantment of my restless desire hath such authority in myself
above myself that I am become a slave unto it ; I have no
more freedom in mine own determinations. My thoughts
are now all bent to carry away my burdenous bliss. Yet,
most beloved cousin, rather than you should think I do
herein violate that holy band of true friendship wherein I
unworthy am knit unto you, command me stay. Perchance
the force of your commandment may work such impression
into my heart that no reason of mine own can imprint into
it. For the gods forbid the foul word of abandoning Pyro-
cles might ever be objected to the faithful Musidorus. But,
if you can spare my presence, whose presence no way serves
you, and, by the division of these two lodges, is not oft with
you— nay, if you can think my absence may, as it shall, stand
you in stead, by bringing such an army hither as shall make
Basihus willing or unwilling to know his own hap in granting
you Philoclea, then I will cheerfully go about this my most
desired enterprise, and shall think the better half of it already
achieved, being begun in the fortunate hour of my friend's
contentment."
These words, as they were not knit together with such a
constant course of flowing eloquence as Dorus was wont to
use, so was his voice interrupted with sighs, and his coun-
tenance with interchanging colour dismayed ; so much his
own heart did find him faulty to unbend any way the con-
tinual use of their dear friendship. But Zelmane, who had all
this while gladly hearkened to the other tidings of her friend's
happy success, when this last determination of Dorus strake
384 ARCADIA.— Book III.
her attentive ears, she stayed a great while oppressed with a
dead amazement. There came straight before her mind
made tender with woes the images of her own fortune : her
tedious longings, her causes of despair, the combersome
folly of Basilius, the enraged jealousy of Gynecia, herself a
prince without retinue, a man annoyed with the troubles of
womankind, loathsomely loved, and dangerously loving :
and now, for the perfecting of all, her friend to be taken away
by himself, to make the loss the greater by the unkindness.
But within a while she resolutely passed over all inward
objections, and preferring her friend's profit to her own desire,
with a quiet but hearty look she thus answered him : —
" If I bare thee this love, virtuous Musidorus, for mine own
sake, and that our friendship grew because I, for my part,
might rejoice to enjoy such a friend, I should now so tho-
roughly feel mine own loss that I should call the heavens
and earth to witness how cruelly ye rob me of my greatest
comfort, measuring the breach of friendship by mine own
passion. But because indeed I love thee for thyself, and in
my judgment judge of thy worthiness to be loved, I am con-
tent to build my pleasure upon thy comfort, and then will I
deem my hap in friendship great when I shall see thee, whom
I love, happy. Let me be only sure thou lovest me still, the
only price of true affection. Go therefore on, worthy Musi-
dorus, with the guide of virtue and service of fortune. Let
thy love be loved, thy desires prosperous, thy escape safe, and
thy journey easy. Let everything yield his help to thy desert;
for my part, absence shall not take thee from mine eyes, nor
afflictions shall bar me from gladding in thy good, nor a pos-
sessed heart shall keep thee from the place it hath for ever
allotted unto thee."
Dorus would fain have replied again, to have made a liberal
confession that Zelmane had of her side the advantage of
ARCADIA.— Book III. 385
well-performing friendship ; but partly his own grief of parting
from one he loved so dearly, partly the kind care in what state
he should leave Zelmane, bred such a conflict in his mind
that many times he wished he had either never attempted or
never revealed His secret enterprise. But Zelmane, who had
now looked to the uttermost of it, and established her mind
upon an assured determination, " My only friend," said she,
" since to so good towardness your courteous destinies have
conducted you, let not a ceremonial consideration of our
mutual love be a bar unto it. I joy in your presence, but I
joy more in your good ; that friendship brings forth the fruits
of enmity which prefers his own tenderness before his friend's
damage. For my part, my greatest grief herein shall be I
can be no further serviceable unto you," " O Zelmane," said
Dorus, with his eyes even covered with water, " I did not
think so soon to have displayed my determination unto you,
but to have made my way first in your loving judgment.
But, alas ! as your sweet disposition drew me so far, so doth
it now strengthen me in it. To you, therefore, be the due
commendation given, who can conquer me in love, and love
in wisdom. As for me, then shall goodness turn to evil, and
ungratefulness be the token of a true heart, when Pyrocles
shall not possess a principal seat in my soul, when the name
of Pyrocles shall not be held of me in devout reverence."
They would never have come to the cruel instant of parting,
nor to the ill-faring word of farewell, had not Zelmane seen
afar off the old Basilius, who having performed a sacrifice to
Apollo for his daughters, but principally for his mistress'
happy return, had since been everywhere to seek her. And now
being come within compass of discerning her, he began to frame
the loveliest countenance he could, stroking up his legs, setting
his beard in due order, and standing bolt upright. "Alas !"
said Zelmane, " behold an evil fore-token of your sorrowful
C C
386 ARCADIA.— Book III.
departure. Yonder see I one of my furies, which doth daily
vex me ; farewell, farewell, my Musidorus, the gods make
fortune to wait on thy virtues, and make me wade through
this lake of wretchedness." Dorus burst out into a flood of
tears, wringing her fast by the hand. " No, no," said he, " I
go blindfold whither the course of my ill-hap carries me, for
now, too late, my heart gives* me this our separating can never
be prosperous. But, if I hve, attend me here shortly with an
army."
Thus, both appalled with the grievous renting! of their first
combination, having first resolved with themselves that,
whatsoever fell unto them, they should never upon no occa-
sion utter their names, for the conserving the honour of their
royal parentage, but keep the names of Daiphantus and
Palladius, as before had been agreed between them, they
took divers ways, Dorus to the lodgeward, where his heavy-
eyes might be something refreshed, Zelmane towards Basi-
lius, saying to herself with a scornful smiling, " Yet hath not
my friendly fortune deprived me of a pleasant companion."
But he having with much search come to her presence, doubt
and desire bred a great quarrel in his mind, for his former
experience had taught him to doubt, and true feehng of love
made doubts dangerous ; but the working of his desire had
ere long won the field. And, therefore, with the most sub-
missive manner his behaviour could yield, " O goddess,"
said he, " towards whom I have the greatest feeling of reli-
gion, be not displeased at some show of devotion I have
* Gives — Misgives. "Give" was occasionally used by our early
wi-iters in the sense of "misgive."
+ Renting— ^^^QwV is the old form of our present word "rend,"
and in the earlier editions of our Bible is repeatedly to be met with ;
in the authorized version, however, only one instance remains (Jer.
iv. 30). " Will you rent our ancient- love asunder ?" — Midsummer-
Night's Dream, iii. 2.
ARCADIA.— Book ITT. 387
made to Apollo, since he, if he know anything, knows that
my heart bears far more awful reverence to yourself than to
his, or any other the like deity." " You will ever be deceived
in me," answered Zelmane: " I will make myself no competitor
with Apollo; neither can blasphemies to him be duties to me."
But Basilius began afresh to lay before her many pitiful
prayers, and in the end to conclude that he was fully of
opinion it was only the unfortunateness of that place that
hindered the prosperous course of his desires. And, there-
fore, since the hateful influence which made him embrace
this solitary life was now passed over him, as he doubted not
the judgment of Philanax would agree with his, and his late
mishaps had taught him how perilous it was to commit a
prince's state to a place so weakly guarded, he was now in-
clined to return to his palace in Mantinea, and there he hoped
he should be better able to show how much he desired to
make all he had hers, with many other such honey-words
which my pen grows almost weary to set down. This indeed
nearly pierced Zelmane ; for the good beginning she had
there obtained of Philoclea made her desire to continue the
same trade, till unto the more perfecting of her desires, and,
to come to any public place she did deadly fear, lest her mask
by many eyes might the sooner be discovered, and so her
hopes stopped and the state of her joys endangered. Therefore
a while she rested, musing at the daily changing labyrinth of
her own fortune, but in herself determined it was her only
best to keep him there, and with favours to make him love
the place where the favours were received, as disgraces had
made him apt to change the soil.
Therefore, casting a kind of corner-look* upon him, " It is
truly said," said she, " that age cooleth the blood. How soon,
good man, you are terrified before you receive any hurt ! Do
* Co7-iier-look — From the corners of her eyes ; a side glance.
C C 2
388 ARCADIA.— Book III.
you not know that daintiness is kindly unto us, and that hard
obtaining is the excuse of woman's granting ? Yet speak I
not as though you were like to obtain or I to grant, but
because I would not have you imagine I am to be won by
courtly vanities, or esteem a man the more because he hath
handsome men to wait on him, when he is afraid to live with-
out them." You might have seen Basilius humbly swell, and
with a lowly look stand upon his tiptoes, such diversity her
words delivered unto him. " O Hercules !" answered he,
" Basilius afraid, or his blood cold that boils in such a fur-
nace ! Care I who is with me while I enjoy your presence ?
or is any place good or bad to me but as it pleaseth you to
bless or curse it ? Oh, let me be but armed in your good
grace, and I defy whatsoever there is or can be against me.
No, no, your love is forcible, and my age is not without
vigour."
Zelmane thought it not good for his stomach to receive a
surfeit of too much favour, and therefore thinking he had
enough for the time to keep him from any sudden removing,
with a certain gracious bowing down of her head toward him,
she turned away, saying she would leave him at this time to
see how temperately he could use so bountiful a measure of
her kindness. Basilius, that thought every drop a flood that
bred any refreshment, durst not further press her, but with
an ancient modesty left her to the sweet repast of her own
fancies.
Zelmane, as soon as he was departed, went towards Pamela's
lodging, in hopes to have found her friend Dorus, to have
pleased herself with another painful farewell. Coming near
the lodge, she saw the mouth of a cave, and near it a little
sweet river, the very show of the place enticing the me-
lancholy mind of Zelmane to yield to the flood of her own
thoughts. Sitting down, therefore, at the cave's mouth, she
ARCADIA.— Book III. 389
gave doleful way to her bitter affects* in a song of complaint.
No sooner had she finished, and was about to compose her
mind, than another voice began to deliver itself into musical
tunes, and with a base lyra give forth this song : —
" Hark, plaintful ghosts, infernal furies, hark
Unto my woes the hateful heavens do send ;
The heavens conspir'd to make my vital spark
A wretched wreck, a glass of ruin's end.
Seeing, alas ! so mighty powers bend
Their ireful shot against so weak a mark.
Come, cave, become my grave ; come, death, and lend
Receipt to me within thy bosom dark.
" For what is life to daily dying mind.
Where, drawing breath, I suck the air of woe ;
Where too much sight makes all the body blind.
And highest thoughts downwai'd most headlong throw ?
Thus, then, my form, and thus my state I find.
Death wrapp'd in flesh to living grave assigned."
" O Venus !" said Zelmane, " who is this that can make so
lively a portraiture of my miseries ?" And, rising, she went
forward, and discerned a lady lying on her face in a dark
spot, who was no other than Gynecia. It was indeed Gynecia,
who had gotten into that place to pass her pangs by change
of places. Seeing it was Zelmane, the unhappy lady fell
down at her feet, and, catching fast hold of her, besought her
pity and love, which when Zelmane refused, she furiously cried,
" Believe it, believe it, unkind creature, since thou hast no pity,
I will end my miseries with a notable example of revenge ;
Philoclea shall feel the smart of my wound, thou of thy tyranny,
and lastly, I confess, myself of mine own work." Zelmane
* Affects — Affections, passions.
" I hope I shall not need to urge
The sacred purity of our affects. "
— Ben Jonson, Case is Altered, act i.
390 ARCADIA.— Book III.
felt like one who has a wolf by the ears, bitten while they
hold and slain if they loose. What could she do, encompassed
with these instant difficulties ? She bent her spirits to think of
a remedy which might at once both save her from them and
serve her to the accomplishment of her only pursuit. Lastly,
she determined thus, that there was no way but to yield to the
violence of their desires, since striving did the more chafe
them, and that, following their own current, at length of itself
it would bring her to the other side of her burning desires.
Now, in the meanwhile, the divided Dorus, long divided
between love and friendship, and now for his love divided
from his friend, though, indeed, without prejudice of friend-
ship's loyalty, which doth never bar the mind from his free
satisfaction, yet still a cruel judge over himself, thought he
was some ways faulty, and applied his mind now to amend
it with a speedy and behoofful return. But then was his
first study how to get away, whereto already he had Pamela's
consent, confirmed and concluded under the name of Mopsa
in her own presence, Dorus taking this way, that whatsoever
he would have of Pamela he would ask her, whether in such
a case it were not best for Mopsa so to behave herself, in
that sort making Mopsa's envy an instrument of that she
did envy. So, having passed over his first and most feared
difficulty, he busied his spirits how to come to the harvest of
his desires, whereof he had so fair a show. And thereunto,
having gotten leave for some days of his master Dametas,
who now accounted him as his son-in-law, he roamed round
about the desert to find some unknown way that might bring
him to the next seaport as much as might be out of all course
of other passengers ; which all very well succeeding him,
and he having hired a bark for his life's traffic, and provided
horses to carry her thither, returned homeward, now come
to the last point of his care, how to go beyond the loathsome
ARCADIA.— Book III. 391
watchfulness of these three uncomely companions, and therein
did wisely consider how they were to be taken with whom he
had to deal, remembering that in the particularities of every- >^
body's mind and fortune there are particular advantages by
which they are to be held. The muddy mind of Dametas he
found most easily stirred with covetousness ; the curst mis-
chievous heart of Tvliso most apt to be tickled with jealousy,
as whose rotten brain could think well of nobody ; but young
mistress Mopsa, who could open her eyes upon nothing that
did not all-to bewonder* her, he thought curiosity the fittest
bait for her.
And first for Dametas, Dorus having employed a whole
day's work, about ten mile off from the lodge — quite con-
trary way to that he meant to take with Pamela — in digging
and opening the ground under an ancient oak that stood
there, in such sort as he might longest hold Dametas' greedy
hopes in some show of comfort, he came to his master, with
a countenance mixed between cheerfulness and haste, and
taking him by the right hand as if he had a great matter of
secrecy to reveal unto him, " Master," said he, " I did never
think that the gods had appointed my mind, freely brought up,
to have so longing a desire to serve you, but that they minded
thereby to bring some extraordinary fruit to one so beloved
of them as your honesty makes me think you are. This binds
me even in conscience to disclose that which I persuade my-
self is allotted unto you, that your fortune may be of equal
balance with your deserts." He said no further, because he
would let Dametas play upon the bit a while, who not under-
standing what his words intended, yet well finding they car-
ried no evil news, was so much the more desirous to know
the matter as he had free scope to imagine what measure of
good hap himself would. Therefore, putting off his cap to
* All-to bewonder — i.e.^ exceedingly astonish hei' — see note, p. 182.
392 ARCADIA.— Book III.
him, which he had never done before, and assuring him he
should have Mopsa, though she had been all made of cloth of
gold, he besought Dorus not to hold him long in hope, for
that he found it a thing his heart was not able to bear.
" Master," answered Dorus, "you have so satisfied me with
promising me the uttermost of my desired bliss, that, if my
duty bound me not, I were in it sufficiently rewarded. To
you, therefore, shall my good hap be converted, and the fruit
of all my labour dedicated." Therewith he told him how,
under an ancient oak — the place he made him easily under-
stand by sufficient marks he gave unto him — he had found,
digging but a little depth, scatteringly lying, a great number
of rich medals ; and that, piercing further into the ground, he
had met with a great stone, which, by the hollow sound it
yielded, seemed to be the cover of some greater vault, and
upon it a box of cypress, with the name of the valiant Aristo-
menes graven upon it ; and that within the box he found
certain verses, which signified that some depth again under
that all his treasure lay hidden, what time, for the discord fell
out in Arcadia, he lived banished. Therewith he gave
Dametas certain medals 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 hours might easily perform,
whether he would have him go and seek the bottom 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
himself would do it and be the first beholder of that comfort-
able spectacle.
No man need doubt which part Dametas would choose,
whose fancy had already devoured all this great riches, and
even now began to grudge at a partner before he saw his own
share. Therefore, taking a strong jade, laden with spades
and mattocks, which he meant to bring back otherwise laden,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 393
he went in all speed thitherward, taking leave of nobody,
only desiring Dorus he would look well to the Princess
Pamela, promising him mountains of his own labour, which
nevertheless he little meant to perform, like a fool, not con-
sidering that no man is to be moved with part that neglects
the whole. Thus away went Dametas, having already made
an image in his fancy what palaces he would build, how
sumptuously he would fare, and among all other things
imagined what money to employ in making coffers to keep
his money ; his ten mile seemed twice so many leagues, and
yet, contrary to the nature of it, though it seemed long, it was
not wearisome. Many times he cursed his horse's want of
consideration, that in so important a matter would make no
greater speed ; many times he wished himself the back of an
ass, to help to carry away the new-sought riches : an unfor-
tunate wisher ; for, if he had as well wished the head, it had
been granted him. At length, being come to the tree which
he hoped should bear so golden acorns, down went all his
instruments, and forthwith to the renting* up of the hurtless
earth, where by-and-by he was caught with the lime of a few
promised medals, which was so perfect a pawn unto him of
his further expectation that he deemed a greater number of
hours well employed in groping further into it, which with
logs and great stones was made as combersome as might be,
till at length, with sweaty brows, he came to the great stone ;
a stone, God knows, full unlike to the cover of a monument,
but yet there was the cypress box, with " Aristomenes " graven
upon it, and some verses written in it. He opened the box,
and to his great comfort read them, and with fresh courage
went about to lift up that stone.
But in the meantime, ere Dametas was half a mile gone
to the treasure-ward, Dorus came to Miso, whom he found
* Renting — See note, p. 386.
394 ARCADIA.— Book III.
sitting in the chimney's end, babbhng to herself, and showing
by all her gestures that she was loathsomely weary of the
'\ world, not for any hope of a better life, but, finding no one
good, neither in mind nor body, whereout she might nourish
a quiet thought, having long since hated each thing else,
began now to hate herself. Before this sweet-humoured
dame Dorus set himself, and framed towards her such a
smiling countenance as might seem to be mixed between a
tickled mirth and a forced pity. Miso, to whom cheerfulness
in others was ever a source of envy in herself, took quickly
mark of his behaviour, and with a look full of forworn spite,
" Now the devil," said she, " take these villains that can
never leave grinning ! because 1 am not so fair as mistress
Mopsa, to see how this skip-jack looks at me !" Dorus, that
had the occasion he desired, " Truly, mistress," answered he,
" my smiling is not at you, but at them that are from you ; and
indeed I must needs a little accord my countenance with
other's sport." And therewithal took her in his arms, and
rocking her to and fro, " In faith, mistress," said he, " it is
high time for you to bid us good night for ever, since others
can possess your place in your own time."
Miso, that was never void of malice enough to suspect the
uttermost evil, to satisfy a further shrewdness, took on a pre-
sent mildness, and gently desired him to tell her what he
meant ; " For," said she, " I am like enough to be knavishly
dealt with by that churl my husband." Dorus fell off from
the matter again, as if he had meant no such thing, till, by
much refusing her entreaty, and vehemently stirring up her
desire to know, he had strengthened a credit in her to that
he should say ; and then, with a formal countenance, as if the
conscience of the case had touched himself, " Mistress," said
he, " I am much perplexed in mine own determination, for
my thoughts do ever will me to do honestly, but my judgment
ARCADIA.— Book III. 395
fails me what is honest, betwixt the general rule that intrusted
secrecies are holily to be observed, and the particular excep-
tion that the dishonest secrecies are to be revealed ; especially
there where, by revealing, they may either be prevented or at
least amended. Yet in this balance your judgment weighs
me down, because I have confidence in it that you will use
what you know moderately, and rather take such faults as an
advantage to your own good desert than, by your bitter using
it, be contented to be revenged on others with your own harms.
So it is, mistress," said he, " that yesterday driving my sheep
up to the stately hill which lifts his head over the fair city of
Mantinea, I happened upon the side of it, in a httle falling of
the ground which was a rampier against the sun's rage, to
perceive a young maid, truly of the finest stamp of beauty,
and, that which made her beauty the more admirable, there
was at all no art added to the helping of it ; for her apparel
was but such as shepherds' daughters are wont to wear ; and
as for her hair, it hung down at the free liberty of his goodly
length, but that sometimes falling before the clear stars of her
sight, she was forced to put it behind her ears, and so open
again the treasure of her perfections which that for a while
had in part hidden. In her lap there lay a shepherd, so
wrapped up in that well-liked place that I could discern no
piece of his face ; but as mine eyes were attent [intent] in that,
her angel-like voice strake mine ears with a song. But, as if
the shepherd that lay before her had been organs which were
only to be blown by her breath, she had no sooner ended with
the joining her sweet lips together but that he recorded* to
* Recorded— Sang in a soft fluting manner. Recorders in ' ' Hamlet"
are flutes or pipes. The word is more usually found to be applied,
in the old writers, to the singing of birds.
" The nymph did earnestly contest
Whether the birds or she recoi'dedh^fii.''''
— Browne, Britannia's Pastorals, b. ii. song 4.
396 ARCADIA.— Book III.
her music like rural poesy ; and with the conclusion of his
song he embraced her about the knees. *" O sweet Charita,'
said he, 'when shall your blissful promise, now due, be verified
with just performance ?' With that I drew nearer to them,
and saw, for now he had lifted up his face to glass himself in
her fair eyes, that it was my master Dametas." But here
Miso interrupted his tale with railing at Dametas with all
those exquisite terms which I* was never good scold enough
to imagine. But Dorus, as if he had been much offended with
her impatience, would proceed no further till she had vowed
more stillness. " For," said he, " if the first drum thus chafe
you, what will you be when it comes to the blows ?"
Then he told her how, after many familiar entertainments
betwixt them, Dametas, laying before her his great credit with
the duke, and withal giving her very fair presents, with pro-
mise of much more, had in the end concluded together to
meet as that night at Mantinea, in the Oudemian street, at
Charita's uncle's house, about ten of the clock. After which
bargain Dametas had spied Dorus, and, calling him to him,
had, with great bravery, told him all his good hap, willing
him in any case to return to the old witch Miso — " for so in-
deed, mistress, of liveliness, and not of ill-will, he termed
you — and to make some honest excuse of his absence ; ' for,'
said he, kissing Charita, ' if thou didst know what a life I lead
with that drivel, it would make thee even of pity receive me
into thy only comfort.' Now, mistress," said he, "exercise
your discretion, which if I were well assured of I would wish
you to go yourself to Mantinea, and, lying secret in some one
of your gossips' houses till the time appointed come, so may
you find them together, and, using mercy, reform my master
from his evil ways." There had nothing more enraged Miso
* The reader will here perceive that Sidney again forgets the plan
upon which he is proceeding with his narrative.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 397
than the praises Dorus gave to Charita's beauty, which made
her jealousy swell the more with the poison of envy ; and
that being increased with the presents she heard Dametas
had given her, which all seemed torn out of her bowels, her
hollow eyes yielded such wretched looks as one might well
think Pluto at that time might have had her soul very good
cheap.* At length, with few words, for her words were choked
up with the rising of her revengeful heart, she ran down, and
with her own hands saddled a mare of hers ; a mare that
seven year before had not been acquainted with the saddle,
and so to Mantinea she went, casting with herself how she
might couple shame with the punishment of her accursed
husband ; but the person is not worthy in whose passion I
should too long stand.
Therefore now must I tell you that mistress Mopsa, who
was the last party Dorus was to practise his cunning withal,
was at the parting of her parents attending upon the Princess
Pamela, whom, because she found to be placed in her father's
house, she knew it was for suspicion the duke had of her.
This made Mopsa, with a right base nature which joys to see
any hard hap happen to them they deem happy, grow proud
over her, and use great ostentation of her own diligence in
prying curiously into each thing that Pamela did. Neither
is there anything sooner overthrows a weak heart than opinion
of authority ; like too strong a liquor for so feeble a glass,
which joined itself to the humour of envying Pamela's beauty
so far that oft she would say to herself, if she had been born
a princess as well as Pamela, her perfections then should
have been as well seen as Pamela's. With this manner of
woman, and placed in these terms, had Dorus to play his last
part, which he would quickly have despatched in tying her up
in such a manner that she should little have hindered his
* Good cheap — See note, p. 180.
398 ARCADIA.— Book III.
enterprise, but that the virtuous Pamela, when she saw him
so minded, by countenance absolutely forbad it, resolutely
determining she would not leave behind her any token of
wrong, since the wrong done to herself was the best excuse of
her escape ; so that Dorus was compelled to take her in the
manner he first thought of. And accordingly, Pamela sitting
musing at the strange attempt she had condescended unto,
and Mopsa hard by her, looking in a glass with very partial
eyes, Dorus put himself between them, and casting up his face
to the top of the house, shrugging all over his body, and
stamping sometimes upon the ground, gave Mopsa occasion,
who was as busy as a bee to know anything, to ask her lover
Dorus what ailed him that made him use so strange a beha-
viour. He, as if his spirits had been ravished with some super-
natural contemplation, stood still, mute, sometimes rubbing
his forehead, sometimes starting in himself, that he set Mopsa
in such an itch of inquiry that she would have offered any-
thing rather than be long kept from it.
Dorus not yet answering to the purpose, still keeping his
amazement, "O Hercules !" said he, "resolve me in this doubt.
A tree to grant one's wishes ! Is this the cause of the king's
solitar>^ life ? Which part shall I take ? Happy in either,
unhappy because I cannot know which were my best hap."
These doubtful self-speeches made Mopsa yet in a further
longing of knowing the matter; so that the pretty pig,* laying
her sweet burden about his neck, "My Dorus," said she, "tell
me these words, or else I know not what will befall me ; honey
Dorus, tell them me?" Dorus having stretched her mind
upon a right last, " Extremely-loved Mopsa," said he, " the
matters be so great as my heart fails me in the telling them ;
* Pig — "Pig" and its diminutive "pigsnie" were used
cliangeably as terms of endearment — see note, p. 307.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 399
but, since you hold the greatest seat in it, it is reason your
desire should add life unto it." Therewith he told her a far-
fet tale : how that many millions of years before, Jupiter, fallen
out with Apollo, had thrown him out of heaven, taking from
him the privilege of a god ; so that poor Apollo was fain to
lead a very miserable life, unacquainted to work and never
used to beg ; that in this order, having in time learned to be
Admetus' herdman, he had, upon occasion of fetching a cer-
tain breed of beasts out of Arcadia, come to that very desert,
where, wearied with travel, and resting himself in the boughs
of a pleasant ash-tree, stood* a little off from the lodge, he had
with pitiful complaints gotten his father Jupiter's pardon, and
so from that tree was received again to his golden sphere.
But having that right nature of a god never to be ungrateful,
to Admetus he had granted a double life ; and because that
tree was the chapel of his prosperous prayers, he had given it
this quality, that whatsoever of such estate and in such manner
as he then was sate down in that tree, they should obtain
whatsoever they wished. This Basilius having understood
by the oracle, was the only cause v/hich had made him try
whether, framing himself to the state of an herdman, he might
have the privilege of wishing only granted to that degree ;
but that, having often in vain attempted it, because indeed
he was not such, he had now opened the secret to Uame-
tas, making him swear he should wish according to his
direction.
" But because," said Dorus, " Apollo was at that time with
extreme grief muffled round about his face with a scarlet
cloak Admetus had given him, and because they that must
wish must be muffled in hke sort and with hke stuff, my
master Dametas is gone I know not whither to provide him
* Stood — i.e., placed at a little distance.
400 ARCADIA.— Book III.
a scarlet cloak, and to-morrow doth appoint to return with it.
My mistress, I cannot tell how, having gotten some inkling
of it, is trudged to Mantinea to get herself a cloak before him,
because she would have the first wish. My master at his
parting of great trust told me this secret, commanding me to
see nobody should climb that tree. But now, my Mopsa,"
said he, " I have here the like cloak of mine own, and am not
so very a fool as, though I keep his commandments in others,
to bar myself. I rest only extremely perplexed, because,
having nothing in the world I wish for but the enjoying you
and your favour, I think it a much pleasanter conquest to
come to it by your own consent than to have it by such a
charming force as this is. Now therefore choose, since have
you I will, in what sort I shall have you."
But never child was so desirous of a gay puppet as Mopsa
was to be in the tree, and therefore, without squeamishness,
promising all he would, she conjured him by all her precious
loves that she might have the first possession of the wishing-
tree, assuring him that for the enjoying of her he should never
need to climb far. Dorus, to whom time was precious, made
no great ceremonies with her, but helping her up to the top
of the tree, from whence likewise she could ill come down
without help, he muffled her round about the face so truly
that she herself could not undo it. And so he told her the
manner was she should hold her mind in continual devotion
to Apollo, without making at all any noise till, at the farthest
within twelve hours' space, she should hear a voice call her
by name three times, and that till the third time she must in
no wise answer ; " and then you shall not need to doubt your
coming down ; for at that time," said he, " be sure to wish ;
wisely ; and, in what shape soever he come unto you, speak boldly
unto him, and your wish shall have as certain effects as I
have a desire to enjoy your sweet loves." In this plight did he
ARCADIA.— Book IIL 401
leave Mopsa, resolved in her heart to be the greatest lady in
the world, and never after to feed of worse than furmenty.*
Thus Dorus, having delivered his hands of his three tor-
mentors, took speedily the benefit of his device, and mounting
the gracious Pamela upon a fair horse he had provided for
her, he thrust himself forthwith into the wildest part of the
desert, where he had left marks to guide him from place to
place to the next seaport, disguising her very fitly with scarfs,
although he rested assured he should meet that way with
nobody, till he came to his bark, into which he meant to enter
by night. Keeping on their journey, maintaining their hearts
in that right harmony of affection which doth interchange-
ably deliver each to other the secret workings of their souls,
till, with the unused travel, the princess being weary, they
lighted down in a fair thick wood, which did entice them
with the pleasantness of it to take their rest there. It was all
of pine-trees, whose broad heads, meeting together, yielded a
perfect shade to the ground, where their bodies gave a spa-
cious and pleasant room to walk in ; they were set in so
perfect an order, that every way the eye being full yet no way
was stopped. And even in the midst of them were there
many sweet springs which did lose themselves upon the
face of the earth. Here Musidorus drew out such provision
of fruits and other catesf as he had brought for that day's
repast, and laid it down upon the fair carpet of the green
* Fiirmeiity, or fiirmity — A favourite Christmas dish of hulled
wheat boiled in milk and seasoned. It is still to be met with in the
North. A receipt for preparing it is given in "A True Gentle-
woman's Delight," 1676,
+ Gates — Provisions ; from Fr. acheter, to buy ; and hence the
word properly means "things bought." It is more correctly spelt
achates. So vSpenser : —
" The kitchin clerke, that hight Digestion,
Did order all the achates in seemely wise."
— Faerie Queene, II. ix. 31.
D D
402 ARCADIA.— Book III.
grass. Pamela, having tasted of the fruits, and growing ex-
treme sleepy, having been long kept from it, with the per-
plexity of her dangerous attempt, laying her head in his lap,
was invited by him to sleep with these softly-uttered verses : —
' ' Lock up, fair lids, the treasure of my heart,
Preserve those beams, this age's only light ;
To her sweet sense, sweet sleep, some ease impart.
Her sense too weak to bear her spirit's might.
" And while, O sleep, thou closest up her sight.
Her sight where Love did forge his fairest dart,
O harbour all her parts in easeful plight.
Let no strange dream make her fair body start."
But within a while they were interrupted by the coming of
a company of clownish villains, armed with divers sorts of
weapons, and for the rest both in face and apparel so for-
wasted that they seemed to bear a great conformity with the
savages ; who, miserable in themselves, taught to increase
their mischiefs in other bodies' harms, came with such cries
as they both awaked Pamela, and made Musidorus turn unto
them full of a most violent rage, with the look of a she-
tiger when her whelps are stolen away.
But Zelmane, whom I left in the cave hardly bestead,
having to deal with a lady with her wits awake, determined
to save herself with plainness, so as to mollify Gynecia's rage.
" I will," said she, " disclose to you my greatest secret, which
you may suspect, but never know. I am a man ; nay, I will say
further, I am born a prince ; and, that you may understand
why I came to this place, I have I know not what good
liking to the lady Philoclea. I having travelled in the coun-
try of the Amazons, and finding none but was too hard for
me, in the end challenged Marpesia their queen, who having
overthrown me, made me, for the saving of my life, swear
ARCADIA.— Book III. 403
that I should go Hke an Amazon, till the coming of my beard
did deliver me from that bondage." Here he ended, and
Gynecia said, " The gods reward thee for thy pity, but O
tread not upon a soul that lies under your foot ; let my errors
be excused by the immortal name of love." Zelmane com-
forting the noble lady, they issued out of that dark place,
Gynecia half persuaded that Zelmane's love was turned to-
wards her ; for such, alas ! we are, that with the too much love
we bear ourselves, being first our own flatterers, we are easily
hooked with each other's flattery, easily persuaded of other's
love. They therefore went forward till they met Basilius and
Philoclea, she singing while the old king lay upon the green
carpet of the grass. Philoclea, seeing another light in her
mother's eyes, and a careless look on her, found Zelmane's
behaviour bent altogether to her mother, and presumed in her-
self she discerned the well-acquainted face of his fancies now
turned to another subject. She saw her mother's worthiness,
and too well knew her affection. These joining their divers
working powers together in her mind, as yet a prentice in
the painful mystery of passions, brought Philoclea into a new
traverse of her thoughts, and made her keep her careful look
the more attentive upon Zelmane's behaviour, w^ho, indeed,
though with much pain, and condemning herself to commit
a sacrilege against the sweet saint that lived in her inmost
temple, yet strengthening herself in it, being the surest way
to make Gynecia bite of her other baits, did so quite over-
rule all wonted shows of love to Philoclea, and convert them
to Gynecia, that the part she played did work in both a full
and lively persuasion : to Gynecia, such excessive comfort
as the being preferred to a rival doth dehver to sweUing de-
sire ; but to the delicate Philoclea, whose calm thoughts
were unable to nourish any strong debate, it gave so stinging
a hurt that, fainting under the force of her inward torment,
D D 2
404 ARCADIA.— Book TIL
she withdrew herself to the lodge, and there, weary of sup-
porting her own burthen, cast herself upon her bed, suffering
her sorrow to melt itself into abundance of tears ; at length
closing her eyes, as if each thing she saw was a picture of
her mishap, and turning upon her heart side, which with vehe-
ment panting did summon her to consider her fortune, she
tearfully bemoaned herself.
But O you that have ever known how tender to every
motion love makes the lover's heart, how he measures all his
joys upon her contentment, and doth v/ith respectful eye
hang all his behaviour upon her eyes, judge, I pray you, now
of Zelmane's troubled thoughts, when she saw Philoclea, with
an amazed kind of sorrow, carry away her sweet presence,
and easily found — so happy a conjecture unhappy affection
hath — that her demeanour was guilty of that trespass. There
was never foolish soft-hearted mother that, forced to beat her
child, did weep first for his pains, and, doing that she was loath
to do, did repent before she began, did find half that motion
in her weak mind as Zelmane did, now that she was forced by
reason to give an outward blow to her passions, and for the
lending of a small time to seek the usury of all her desires.
The unkindness she conceived Philoclea might conceive did
wound her soul ; each tear she doubted she spent drowned
all her comfort. Her sickness was a death unto her.
Nor was Zelmane freed from care by the conduct of Basi-
lius, who, thinking it was now time to urge his painful peti-
tion, and beseeching his wife with more careful eye to look to
his sickly daughter Philoclea, thus being rid of her who was
content to grant him any scope that she might have the like
freedom, " O lady of my life," said he to Zelmane, " I
plainly lay my death to you if you refuse me ; let not certain
imaginative rules whose truth stands but on opinion keep so
wise a mind from gracefulness and mercy, whose never-failing
ARCADIA.— Book III, 405
laws nature hath planted in us." This and much more did
this tedious old king rehearse, till Zelmane, who had beguiled
for her own service, and to draw him away, the much-loving
Basilius, to the cave, found time to answer him and send him
away to his lodging, but, alas ! only to be laid siege to more
closely by the amorous Gynecia. By wiles and glosses Zel-
mane, unwilling to stain her honour, or to yield to the too
soliciting queen, did deceive her also, telling her that she would
lie down in her chamber, but that the queen should take her
(Zelmane's) upper garment, and endue it, so that Basilius
might be outwitted, and she and Gynecia might meet in
the cave. Therefore the queen, putting on Zelmane's outmost
apparel, went first into her closet, there quickly to beautify
herself with the best and sweetest night-deckings. But there
casting an hasty eye over her precious things, which ever
since Zelmane's coming, her head otherwise occupied, had
left unseen, she happened to see a bottle of gold, upon which
down along were graved these verses —
" Let him drink this whom long in arms to fold
Thou dost desire, and with free power to hold."
Putting this potion in a fair cup all set with diamonds, and
clad in Zelmane's garments, she went to the cave where the
Amazonian slept and lay down awaiting her ; and the tyranny
of misdirected passion soon sent the love-laden Basilius to his
queen, who being as to the outermost garments like Zelmxane,
he mistook for her. Leaving them thus to amuse and befool
themselves, although Gynecia, more sharp-witted than blinded
by love, well knew Basilius, Pyrocles approached the chamber
of his dear Philoclea, meaning to salute her with the sweetest
music, while she indeed, beheving him faithless, bewailed her
sad lot. " O ye deaf heavens," she cried to herself, " I would
either his injury could blot out mine affection, or my affectio
4o6 ARCADIA.— Book III.
could forget his injury." And taking a lute she sang a sonnet
which thus ended —
" But, ah, the more I hate the more T think
Whom I do hate ; the more I think on him
The more his matchless gifts do deeply sink
Into my breast, and loves renewed swim.
What med'cine, then, can such disease remove.
Where love draws hate and hate engendreth love ?"
When Pyrocles heard his name accused and condemned by her
he most loved, he rushed forwards with haste, but she, turning
away her face from him, thus said unto him, " O Zelmane, or
Pyrocles — for whether name I use it much skills not, since by
the one I was first deceived, and by the other now betrayed —
what strange motion is the guide of thy cruel mind hither ? Dost
thou not think the day-torments thou hast given me sufficient,
but that thou doest envy me the night's quiet ? Wilt thou
give my sorrows no truce, but, by making me see before mine
eyes how much I have lost, off"er me due cause of confirming
my plaint ? Or is thy heart so full of rancour that thou dost
desire to feed thine eyes with the wretched spectacle of thine
overthrown enemy, and so to satisfy the full measure of thy
undeserved rage with the receiving into thy sight the unre-
lievable ruins of my desolate life ? O Pyrocles, Pyrocles, for
thine own virtue's sake, let miseries be no music unto thee,
and be content to take to thyself some colour of excuse that
thou didst not know to what extremity thy inconstancy, or
rather falsehood, hath brought me."
Pyrocles, to whom every syllable she pronounced was a
thunderbolt to his heart, equally distraught betwixt amaze-
ment and sorrow, abashed to see such a stop of his desires,
grieved with her pain, but tormented to find himself the
author of it, with quaking lips and pale cheer, " Alas ! divine
lady," said he, " your displeasure is so contrary to my desert,
ARCADIA.— Book III. 407
and your words so far beyond all expectations, that I have
least ability now I have most need to speak in the cause upon
which my life dependeth. For my troth is so undoubtedly
constant unto you, my heart is so assured a witness to itself
of his unspotted faith, that having no one thing in me where-
out any such sacrilege might arise, I have likewise nothing
in so direct a thing to say for myself but sincere and vehe-
ment protestations ; for, in truth, there may most words be
spent where there is some probability to breed of both sides
conjectural allegations. But so perfect a thing as my love is
of you, as it suffers no question, so it seems to receive injury
by addition of any words unto it. If my soul could have been
polluted with treachery, it would likewise have provided for
itself due furniture of colourable answers ; but as it stood
upon the naked conscience of his untouched duty, so I must
confess it is altogether unarmed against so unjust a violence
as you lay upon me. Alas ! let not the pains I have taken to
serve you be now accounted injurious unto you, let not the
dangerous cunning I have used to please you be deemed a
treason against you ; since I have deceived them whom you
fear for your sake, do not you destroy me for their sake. What
can I without you further do ; or to what more forwardness
can any counsel bring our desired happiness ? I have pro-
vided whatsoever is needful for our going, I have rid them
both out of the lodge ; so that there is none here to be hin-
derers or knowers of our departure, but only the almighty
powers, whom I invoke as triers of mine innocency and wit-
nesses of my well meaning. And if ever my thoughts did
receive so much as a fainting in their affections, if they have
not continually with more and more ardour from time to time
pursued the possession of your sweetest favour ; if ever in
that possession they received either spot or falsehood, then
let their most horrible plagues fall upon me, let mine eyes be
/■
4o8 ARCADIA.— Book III,
deprived of the light which did abase the heavenly beams
that strake them, let my falsified tongue serve to no use but
to bemoan mine own wretchedness, let my heart impoisoned
with detestable treason be the seat of infernal sorrow, let my
soul with the endless anguish of his conscience become his
own tormentor !"
"O false mankind!" cried out the sweet Philoclea; "how
can an imposthumed* heart but yield forth evil matter by
his mouth ? Are oaths there to be believed where vows are
broke? No, no ; who doth w^ound the eternal justice of the
gods cares little for abusing their names, and who in doing
wickedly doth not fear due recompensing plagues, doth little
fear that invoking of plagues will make them come ever a
whit the sooner. But, alas ! what aileth this new conversion ?
have you yet another sleight to play, or do you think to de-
ceive me in Pyrocles' form as you have done in Zelmane's ?
Or rather, now you have betrayed me in both, is some third
sex left you to transform yourself into to inveigle my simpli-
city ? Enjoy the conquest you have already won, and assure
yourself you are come to the farthest point of your cunning.
For my part, unkind Pyrocles, my only defence shall be
belief of nothing, my comfort my faithful innocency, and the
punishment I desire of you shall be your own conscience."
Philoclea's hard persevering in this unjust condemnation
of him did so overthrow all the might of Pyrocles' mind —
who saw that time would not serve to prove by deeds, and
that the better words he used the more they were suspected
of deceitful cunning — that, void of all counsel and deprived
of all comfort, finding best deserts punished and nearest
hopes prevented, he did abandon the succour of himself, and
* Imposthimied — Corruptly swollen, ATrt^crTTj/xa ; " The inner flesh
or pulpe, cleansed from the seed, is passing good for to be laid into
those imposthiiJties or swellings." — Holland, Plinie, bk. xx. c. 3.
ARCADIA.— Book III. 409
suffered grief so to close his heart that his breath faihng him,
with a deathful shutting of his eyes, he fell down at her side,
having had time to say no more but " Oh ! whom dost thou
kill, Philoclea ?" She that little looked for such an extreme
event of her doings, not so much stricken down with amaze-
ment and grief of her fault as lifted up with the force of love
and desire to help, she laid her fair body over his breast,
and throwing no other water in his face but the stream of
her tears, nor giving him other blows but the kissing of her
well-formed mouth, her only cries were these lamentations :
" O unfortunate suspicion," said she — " the very mean to lose
that we most suspect to lose ! O unkind kindness of mine,
which returns an imagined wrong with an effectual injury !
O fool to make quarrel m.y supplication, or to use hate as
the mediator of love ! Childish Philoclea, hast thou throvm
away the jewel wherein all thy pride consisted ? hast thou
with too much haste overrun thyself?" Then would she re-
new her kisses, and, yet not finding the life return, redouble
her plaints in this manner : " O divine soul," said she,
" whose virtue can possess no less than the highest place in
heaven, if for mine eternal plague thou hast utterly left this
most sweet mansion, before I follow thee with Thisbe's
punishment for my rash unwariness, hear this protestation
of mine : That as the wrong I have done thee proceeded of
a most sincere but unresistible affection, so led with this
pitiful example it shall end in the mortal hate of myself, and,
if it may be, I will make my soul a tomb of thy memory."
At that word, with anguish of mind and weakness of body
increased one by the other, and both augmented by this
fearful accident, she had fallen down in a swound, but that
Pyrocles, then first severing his eyelids, and quickly appre-
hending her danger, to him more than death, beyond all
powers striving to recover the commandment of all his
4IO ARCADIA.— Book III.
powers, stayed her from falling, and then lifting the sweet?
burthen of her body in his arms laid her in her bed ; so
that she, but then the physician, was now become the patient,
and he to whom her weakness had been serviceable was now
enforced to do service to her weakness, which, performed by
him with that hearty care which the most careful love on the
best loved subject in greatest extremity could employ, pre-
vailed so far that ere long she was able, though in strength
exceedingly dejected, to call home her wandering senses, to
yield attention to that her beloved Pyrocles had to deliver.
But he, lying down on the bed by her, holding her hand in
his, with so kind an accusing her of unkindness as in accus-
ing her he condemned himself, began from point to point
to discover unto her all that had passed between his loathed
lovers and him : how he had entertained, and by entertain-
ing deceived, both Basilius and Gynecia, and with such a
kind of deceit as either might see the cause in the other, but
neither espy the effect in themselves ; that all his favours
to them had tended only to make them strangers to this his
action, and all his strangeness to her to the final obtaining
of her long-promised and now to be performed favour.
Which device seeing it had so well succeeded to the re-
moving all other hindrances that only her resolution re-
mained for the taking their happy journey, he conjured her
by all the love she had ever borne him she would make no
longer delay to partake with him whatsoever honours the
noble kingdom of Macedon, and all other Euarchus' dominions,
might yield him, specially since in this enterprise he had
now waded so far as he could not possibly retire himself
back without being overwhelmed with danger and dishonour.
He needed not have used further persuasion, for that only
conjuration had so forcibly bound all her spirits that, could
her body have seconded her mind, or her mind have
ARCADIA.— Book HI. 411
strengthened her body, without respect of any worldly thing,
but only fear to be again unkind to Pyrocles, she had con-
descended to go with him. But, raising herself a little in her
bed, and finding her own unability in any sort to endure the
air, " My Pyrocles," said she, with tearful eyes and pitiful
countenance such as well witnessed she had no will to deny
anything she had power to perform, " if you can convey me
hence in such plight as you see me, I am most wilHng to
make my extremest danger a testimony that I esteem no
danger in regard of your virtuous satisfaction." But she
fainted so fast that she was not able to utter the rest of her
conceived speech, which also turned Pyrocles' thoughts from
expecting further answer to the necessary care of reviving
her, in whose fainting himself was more than overthrown ;
and that having effected with all the sweet means his wits
could devise, though his highest hopes were by this unex-
pected downfall sunk deeper than any degree of despair, yet,
lest the appearance of his inward grief might occasion her
further discomfort, having racked his face to a more com-
fortable semblance, he sought some show of reason to show
she had no reason either for him or for herself to be afflicted :
which in the sweet-minded Philoclea, whose consideration
was limited by his words, and whose conceit pierced no
deeper than his outward countenance, wrought within a
while such quietness of mind, and that quietness again such
repose of body, that sleep, by his harbingers weakness, weari-
ness, and watchfulness, had quickly taken up his lodging in
all her senses.
Then, indeed, had Pyrocles leisure to sit in judgment on
himself, and to hear his reason accuse his rashness, who„
without forecast of doubt, without knowledge of his friend,
without acquainting Philoclea with his purpose, or being
made acquainted with her presentestate, had fallen headlong,
413 ARCADIA,— Book III,
into that attempt, the success whereof he had long since set
down to himself as the measure of all his other fortunes.
But calling to mind how weakly they do that rather find
fault with what cannot be amended than seek to amend
wherein they have been faulty, he soon turned him from re-
membering what might have been done to considering what
was now to be done, and, when that consideration failed, what
was now to be expected. Wherein having run over all the
thoughts his reason, called to the strictest accounts, could
bring before him, at length he lighted on this : That, as long
as Gynecia bewrayed not the matter, which he thought she
would not do, as well for her own honour and safety as for
the hope she might still have of him, which is loath to die in
a lover's heart, all the rest might turn to a pretty merriment,
and inflame his lover Basilius again to cast about for the
missed favour. And as naturally the heart stuffed up with
woefulness is glad greedily to suck the thinnest air of comfort,
so did he at first embrace this conceit as offering great hope,
if not assurance of well-doing, till, looking more nearly into
it, and not able to answer the doubts and difficulties he saw
therein more and more arising, the night being also far spent,
his thoughts, even weary of his own burthens, fell to a stray-
ing kind of uncertainty, and his mind, standing only upon
the nature of inward intelligences, left his body to give a
sleeping respite to his vital spirits, which he, according to
the quality of sorrow, received with greater greediness than
ever in his life before. According to the nature of sorrow, I
say, which is past care's remedy ; for care, stirring the brains
and making thin the spirits, breaketh rest ; but those griefs
wherein one is determined there is no preventing, do breed
a dull heaviness which easily clothes itself in sleep. So as,
laid down so near the beauty of the world Philoclea that
their necks were subject each to other's chaste embracements,
ARCADIA.— Book III. ^n
it seemed love had come thither to lay a plot, in that picture
of death, how gladly, if death came, their souls would go
together.*
The End of the Third Book.
* The third Book is followed by the third Eclogue, which, in pur-
suance of our plan — as it has nothing to do with the story, and is not
remarkable for merit — we omit. The only verses at all noticeable
are some short lines attributed to Philisides (Sir Philip Sidney).
" The lad Phihsides
Lay by a river side.
In flowery field a gladder eye to please ;
His pipe was at his foot,
His lambs were him beside ;
A widow turtle near on bared root
Sat wailing without boot.
Each thing both sweet and sad
Did draw his boiling brain
To think, and think with pain.
Of Mira's beams eclips'd by absence bad."
We trust that the reader will gladly excuse the absence of such verse.
In another set of verses Sidney thus refers to Languet, his German
friend, to whom reference is made in the Introductory Essay : —
" The song I sang old Languet had me taught,
Languet the shepherd best swift Ister knew
For clerkly reed and hating what is naught.
For faithful heart, clean hands, and mouth as true :
With his sweet skill my skilless youth he drew
To have a feeling taste of him that sits
Beyond the heaven, far more beyond our wits."
TJie FoiirtJi Book.
HE Almighty Wisdom, evermore delighting to show
the world that by unlikeliest means greatest mat-
ters may come to conclusion, that human reason
may be the more humbled and more willingly
give place to divine providence, as at the first it
brought Dametas to play a part in this royal pageant, so,
having continued him still an actor, now that all things were
grown ripe for an end, made his folly the instrument of re-
vealing that which far greater cunning had sought to conceal.
For so it fell out that, Dametas having spent the whole day
in breaking up the cumbersome work of the pastor Dorus,
and feehng in all his labour no pain so much as that his
hungry hopes received any stay, having with the price of
much sweat and weariness gotten up the huge stone which he
thought should have such a golden lining, the good man, in
the great bed that stone had made, found nothing but these
two verses written upon a broad piece of vellum : —
" Who hath his hire hath well his labour plac'd;
Earth thou didst seek, and store of earth thou hast."
What an inward discontentment it was to Master Dametas
to find his hope of wealth turned to poor verses, for which he
never cared much, nothing can describe but either the feeling
in one's self the state of such a mind Dametas had, or at
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 415
least the bethinking what was Midas' fancy when, after the
great pride he conceived to be made judge between gods, he
was rewarded with the ornament of an ass's ears. Yet the
deep apprehension he had received of such riches could not
so suddenly lose the colour that had so thoroughly dyed his
thick brain but that he turned and tossed the poor bowels of
the innocent earth till the coming on of the night and the
tediousness of his fruitless labour made him content rather to
exercise his discontentation at home than there. But forced
he was, his horse being otherwise burthened with digging
instruments, to return as he came, most part of the way on
foot, with such grudging lamentations as a nobler mind would,
but more nobly, make for the loss of his mistress. For so
far had he fed his foolish soul with the expectation of that
which he reputed felicity, that he no less accounted himself
miserable than if he had fallen from such an estate his fancy
had embraced. So then home again went Dametas, punished
in conceit as in conceit he had erred, till he found himself
there from a fancied loss fallen to essential misery. For,
entering into his house three hours before night, instead of
the lightsome countenance of Pamela, which gave such an
inward decking to that lodge that proudest palaces might
have envied it, instead of the grateful conversation of Dorus,
the scolding of Miso, and busy rumbling up and down of
Mopsa, he found darkness and loathsome silence. Struck
with terror and a kind of irksome gastfulness, he lighted a
candle and vainly searched, and then running out of the
lodge, looking like a she-goat when she has cast her kid,
he found Mopsa sitting on a tree, waiting for Apollo to
visit her as she had been persuaded. Dametas, who could
get no sanely-conceived answer from her, and fully persuaded
that she was mad, was trying to bring her to herself, when
ihe was assaulted by his wife Miso, who, jealous of her
4i6 ARCADIA.— Book IK
husband, and not knowing Mopsa at that time, came grunting
out her mischievous spite full of devilish disdain and hateful
tj\ I jealousy. Dametas, who was not so sensible in anything of
\ anything as of blows, turned up his blubbered face like a
great lout newly whipped, and Miso mistaking Mopsa, hit
her a blow, and all three hunting to and fro on the wrong
scent — for the conceits which Dorus had imprinted on them
kept still dominion over them — fell to such blows and quarrels
as it was sport to see.
Dametas, leaving the women to their brawling, began to
have some glimmering sense of the escape of Pamela and
Dorus, and running backwards to the king's lodge, found all
the doors locked, save only one trap which went down by a
vault into the cellar ; and he, who knew the buttery better
than any other place, got in that way, and passing softly
to Philoclea's chamber, where he thought it most likely to
find Pamela, he entered in and saw some one on the bed
with her ; yet thinking to make himself sure that it was Pa-
mela, in a matter touching his neck, he went to the bed side
of these unfortunate lovers, who, tired with sorrows which had
overthrown the wakeful use of their senses, were then pos-
sessed with mutual sleep, yet not forgetting with viny* em-
bracements to give any eye a perfect model of affection.
Dametas, thinking it not good to awake a sleeping lion,
went down again, taking with him Pyrocles' sword, and
making the door as fast as he could on the outer side, hoping
with the revealing of this, as he thought, greater fault to
make his own the less, or at least that this injury would so fill
the king's head that he should not have leisure to chastise
his negligence — like a fool, not considering that the more
rage breeds the crueller punishment — he went first into the
* V/7/y — Vinelike, clasping each other as do the tendrils of a vine
the body of its support or stay.
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 417
king's chamber, and not finding him there, he ran down,
crying with open mouth the king was betrayed, and that
Zelmane did abuse his daughter. The noise he made, being
a man of no few words, joined to the yelping sound of Miso,
and his unpleasant inheritrix, brought together some number
of the shepherds, to whom he, without any regard of reserving
it for the king's knowledge, spattered out the bottom of his
stomach, swearing by him he never knew that Zelmane,
whom they had taken all the while to be a woman, was as
arrant a man as himself was, whereof he had seen sufficient
signs and tokens.
The poor men, jealous of their prince's honour, were ready
with weapons to have entered the lodge, standing yet in
some pause whether it were not best first to hear some news
from the king himself, when, by the sudden coming of other
shepherds, which, with astonished looks, ran from the one
cry to the other, their griefs were surcharged with the evil
tidings of the king's death. Turning, therefore, all their
minds and eyes that way, they ran to the cave where they
said he lay dead, the sun beginning now to send some pro-
mise of coming light, making haste, I think, to be spec-
tator of the following tragedies ; for Basilius, having passed
over the night with the sweet imagination of embracing the
most desired Zelmane, doubting lest the cave's darkness
might deceive him in the day's approach, thought it now
season to return to his wedlock-bed, remembering the pro-
mises he had made to Zelmane to observe true orders to-
wards Gynecia. Gynecia, who had cast about her Zelmane's
garment, wherein she came thither, followed Basilius to the
cave's entry, full of inward vexation, betwixt the deadly accu-
sation of her own guiltiness, and the spiteful doubt she had
Zelmane had abused her : but because of the one side —
finding the king did think her to be Zelmane — she had
E E
41 8 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
liberty to imagine it might rather be the king's own unbridled
enterprise which had barred Zelmane, than Zelmane's cun-
ning deceiving of her, and that of the other, if she would
headily seek a violent revenge, her own honour might be as
much interessed* as Zelmane endangered, she fell to this de-
termination : first with fine handling of the king to settle in
him a perfect good opinion of her, and then, as she should
learn how things had passed, to take into herself new-devised
counsel. But this being her first action, having given unlooked-
for attendance to the king, she heard him utter words betray-
ingwith what partiality he did prefer Zelmane to herself; there-
fore went she out to Basilius, setting herself in a grave beha-
viour and stately silence before him, until he, who at the first,
thinking her by so much shadow as he could see to be Zelmane,
was beginning his loving ceremonies, did now, being helped
by the peeping light wherev/ith the morning did overcome
the night's darkness, know her face and his error, which
acknowledging in himself with starting back from her, she
with a modest bitterness spake unto him.
Basilius, ashamed to see himself overtaken, began to make
certain extravagant excuses ; but the matter hardly brooking
purgation, with the suddenness of the time, which barred any
good conjoined invention, made him sometimes allege one
thing, to which by-and-by he would bring in a contrary, one
time with flat denial, another time with mitigating the fault ;
now brave, then humble, use such a stammering defensive
that Gynecia, the violence of whose sore, indeed, ran another
way, was content to fasten up the last stitch of her anger.
Basilius, that would rather than his life the matter had been
* hiteressed^'-'- Interess "' was the old form of our modem word
"interest," and is to be found in many of the early dramatists. It
existed even as late as the time of Drj'den, in whose preface to the
yEneid the word occurs.
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 419
ended, the best rhetoric he had was flat demanding pardon of
her, saying he had such a lesson without book of affection unto
her as he would repay the debt of this error with the interest
of a great deal more true honour than ever before he had
done her. How much Basilius' own shame had found him
culpable, and had already, even in soul, read his own con-
demnation, so much did the unexpected mildness of Gynecia
captive his heart unto her, which otherwise, perchance, would
have grown to a desperate carelessness. Therefore, embrac-
ing her, and confessing that her virtue shined in his vice, he
did even, with a true resolved mind, vow unto her that, as
long as he unworthy of her did live, she should be the furthest
and only limit of his affection. Thus reconciled, to Basi-
lius' great contentation, who began something to mark him-
self in his own doings, his hard hap guided his eye to the cup
of gold wherein Gynecia had put the liquor meant for Zelmane,
and having failed of that guest was now carrying it home
again. But he, whom perchance sorrow had made extremely
thirsty, took it out of her hands, although she directly told him
both of whom she had it, what the effect of it was, and the little
proof she had seen thereof, hiding nothing from him but that
she meant to minister it to another patient. But the king,
whose belly had no ears, and much drouth kept from the
desiring a taster, finding it not unpleasant to his palate, drank
it almost off, leaving very little to cover the cup's bottom.
But within a while that from his stomach the drink had deli-
vered to his principal veins his noisome vapours, first with a
painful stretching and forced yawning, then with a dark yel-
lowness dyeing his skin and a cold deadly sweat principally
about his temples, then with pang-like groans and gastly
turning of his eyes, immediately all his limbs stiffened and
his eyes fixed, he having had time to declare his case only
in these words: " O Gynecia, I die ! Have care "
E E 2
420 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
Of what, or how much further, he would have spoken no
man can tell ; for Gynecia, having well perceived the chang-
ing of his colour, and those other evil signs, yet had not
looked for such a sudden overthrow, but rather had bethought
herself what was best for him, when she suddenly saw the
matter come to that period, coming to him, and neither with
any cries getting a word of him, nor with any other possible
means able to bring any Hving action from him, the height
of all ugly sorrows did so horribly appear before her amazed
mind that at the first it did not only distract all power of
speech from her, but almost wit to consider, remaining as it
were quick buried* in a grave of miseries. Her painful me-
mory had straight filled her with the true shapes of all the
forepast mischiefs ; her reason began to cry out against the
filthy rebellion of sinful sense, and to tear itself with anguish
for having made so weak a resistance, her conscience a ter-
rible witness of the inward wickedness still nourishing this
debateful fire ; her complaint now not having an end to be
directed unto, from something to disburden sorrow, but a
necessary downfall of inward wretchedness. She saw the
rigour of the laws was like to lay a shameful death upon her,
which being for that action undeserved, made it the more
insupportable, and yet in depth of her soul most deserved,
made it more miserable.
" O bottomless pit of sorrow," said she, "' in which I cannot
contain myself, having the firebrands of all furies within me,
still falling, and yet by the infiniteness of it never fallen !
Neither can I rid myself, being fettered with the everlasting
consideration of it. For whither should I recommend the
protection of my dishonoured fall ? To the earth .^ It hath no
life, and waits to be increased by the relics of my shamed
* Quick buried — Buried alive. " Come to judge the quick and the
dead." — Apostles' Creed.
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 421
carcass. To men — who are always cruel in their neighbour's
faults, and make other's overthrow become the badge of their
ill-masked virtue ? To the heavens ? O unspeakable torment
of conscience, which dare not look unto them ! No sin can
enter there ; oh, there is no receipt for polluted minds !
Whither, then, wilt thou lead this captive of thine, O snaky-
despair?" And kissing the cold face of Basilius, "And even
so will I rest," said she, " and join this faulty soul of mine to
thee, if so much the angry gods will grant me."
And as she was in this plight, the sun now climbing over
our horizon, the first shepherds came by, who seeing the
king in that case, and hearing the noise Dametas made of
the lady Philoclea, ran with the doleful tidings of Basilius'
death unto him, who presently, with all his company, came
to the cave's entry where the king's body lay ; Dametas, for
his part, more glad for the hope he had of his private escape
than sorry for the public loss his country received for a
prince not to be misliked. But in Gynecia nature prevailed
above judgment, and the shame she conceived to be taken in
that order* overcame for that instant the former resolution ;
so that, as soon as she saw the foremost of the pastoral
troop, the wretched princess ran to have hid her face in the
next woods, but with such a mind that she knew not almost
herself what she could wish to be the ground of her safety.
Dametas, that saw her run away in Zelmane's upper raiment,
and judging her to be so, thought certainly all the spirits in
hell were come to play a tragedy in those woods, such
strange change he saw every way : the king dead at the
cave's mouth ; the queen, as he thought, absent ; Pamela
fled away with Dorus ; his wife and Mopsa in divers frenzies.
But, of all other things, Zelmane conquered his capacity,
* That order — The shame she conceived lo be taken in that order,
i.e.^ to be arrested in Zelmane's attire.
422 ARCADIA,— Book IV.
suddenly from a woman grown to a man, and from a locked
chamber gotten before him into the fields, which he gave the
rest quickly to understand ; for, instead of doing anything
as the exigent* required, he began to make circles and all
those fantastical defences that he had ever heard were forti-
fications against devils.
But the other shepherds, who had both better wits and
more faith, forthwith divided themselves, some of them run-
ning after Gynecia, and esteeming her running away a great
condemnation of her own guiltiness ; others going to their
prince to see what service was left for them, either in re-
covery of his life or honouring his death. They that went
after the queen had soon taken her, in whom now the first
fears were stayed, and the resolution to die had repossessed
his place in her mind. But, when they saw it was the queen,
to whom, besides the obedient duty they owed to her state,
they had always carried a singular love for her courteous
liberalities and other wise and virtuous parts, which had
filled all that people with affection and admiration, they
were all suddenly stopped, beginning to ask pardon for their
following her in that sort, and desiring her to be their good
lady, as she had ever been. But the queen, who now
thirsted to be rid of herself, thus said unto them : " It is I,
faithful Arcadians, that have spoiled the country of their pro-
tector. I, none but I, was the minister of his unnatural end.
Carry, therefore, my blood in your hands to testify your own
innocency." With this she presented her fair neck to
the poor men, who looked one upon the other, unused to be
arbiters in princes' matters, and were now fallen into a
great perplexity betwixt a prince dead and a princess
alive. But at last, in moanful march, they went towards
the other shepherds, who in the meantime had left nothing
* Exigent — The need of the occasion.
ARCADIA,— Book IV, 423
imassayed to revive the king ; but all v^^as bootless, and
their sorrows increased the more they had suffered any
hopes vainly to arise. Among other trials they made to
know at least the cause of his end, having espied the
unhappy cup, they gave the little liquor that was left to a
dog of Dametas, in which within a short time it wrought the
like effect, although Dametas did so much to recover him
that, for very love of his life, he dashed out his brains.
And now the shepherds, after the ancient Greek manner, be-
moaned their king, giving him the sacred titles of good, just,
merciful, the father of his people and life of his country, gene-
rally* giving a true testimony that men are loving creatures
when injuries put them not from their natural course, and how
easy a thing it is for a prince by successionf deeply to sink
into the souls of his subjects. And so, as they dispersed
about the Arcadian woods, making them ring with their
lamentations, and their resounding shrieks came indeed to
the ears of the faithful and worthy Philanax, who, with other
Arcadian lords, was coming to visit Basihus, to assure him-
self of his well-being — a thing which, after the late mutiny, he
had often done — the shepherds, especially Dametas, know-
ing him to be the second person in authority, gave a sad
relation to him of these events ; and he, kneeling down by
the body, " Ah, dear master," said he, " how soon, to our
ruin, have you left the frail bark of your estate ! True love
must be proved, in honour of your memory, in seeking just
revenge on your enemies ; and more honourable will it be
* Generally — Here meaning universally, on all sides.
f Prince by succession — Bitterly true, some of the easiest and most
careless, not to say most vicious princes, having been, before and
since Sidney's time, the most popular. Loyal as Sidney was, there
are hei'e and there distinct hints of his admiration for a republican
form of government and of his contempt for unfounded loyalty.
Basilius singularly anticipates in his cliaracter the British Solomon,
James I. and VI.
424 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
for your tomb to have the blood of your enemies sprinkled
on it than the tears of your friends." And then he rose, look-
ing upon the poor guiltless princess with an unjust justice
that his eyes were sufficient heralds for him to denounce
vengeance and hatred.
Philanax having presently given order for the bringing
from Mantinea a great number of tents for the receipt of the
principal Arcadians — the manner of that country being that
where the prince died there should be orders taken for the
country's government, and in the place any murther was
committed the judgment should be given there before the
body was buried — both concurring in this matter, and already
great part of the nobility being arrived, he delivered the prin-
cess to a gentleman of great trust ; and as for Uametas, taking
from him the keys of both the lodges, calling him the moth of
his prince's estate and only spot of his judgment, he caused
him, with his wife and daughter, to be fettered up in as many
chains and clogs as they could bear, and every third hour to
be cruelly whipped, till the determinate judgment should be
given of all these matters. That done, having sent already at
his coming to all the quarters of the country to seek Pamela,
although with small hope of overtaking them, he himself
went well accompanied to the lodge, where the two unfor-
tunate lovers were attending a cruel conclusion of their long,
painful, and late most painful affection.
Dametas' clownish eyes, having been the only discoverers
of Pyrocles' stratagem, had no sooner taken a full view of
them, which in some sights would rather have bred anything
than an accusing mind, and locked the door upon these two
young folks, now made prisoners for love, as before they had
been prisoners to love, but that immediately upon his going
down, whether with noise Dametas made or with the creep-
ing in of the light, or rather that as extreme grief had
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 425
procured his sleep, so extreme care had measured his sleep,
giving his senses a very early salve to come to themselves,
Pyrocles awaked ; and being up, the first evil handsel* he had
of the ill case wherein he was was the seeing himself de-
prived of his sword, from which he had never separated him-
self in any occasion ; but by-and-by he perceived he was a pri-
soner before any arrest; for the door which he had left open was
made so fast of the outside that for all the force he could em-
ploy unto it he could not undo Dametas' doing. Then went
he to the windows, to see if that way there were any escape
of him and his dear lady ; but as vain he found all his em-
ployment there, not having might to break out but only one
bar, wherein notwithstanding he strained his sinews to the
uttermost. And that he rather took out to use for other
service than for any possibility he had to escape ; for even
then it was that Dametas, having gathered together the first
coming shepherds, did blabber out what he had found in the
lady Philoclea's chamber. Pyrocles markingly hearkened to
all that Dametas said, whose voice and mind acquaintance
had taught him sufficiently to know. But when he assuredly
perceived that his being with the lady Philoclea was fully
discovered, and by the folly or malice, or rather malicious
folly, of Dametas her honour therein touched in the highest
degree, remembering withal the cruelty of the Arcadian laws,
which, without exception, did condemn all to death who
were found, as Dametas reported of them, in act of marriage
* Handsel — A word still used by the peasantry and common
people of London, signifying the first money touched in a day's sale;
hence its symbolical meaning. From the A,-S. hand-selen, manci^
fatio, putting over into another's hand.
" Yeat lothe to hurt my haste, and least
The hansell should retyer,
I was not over coye, nor he,
To warme him at my fier." —
Warner, Albion's England, bk. ix.
426. ARCADIA.— Book IV,
without solemnity of marriage, he saw the misfortune, not
the mismeaning, of his work was hke to bring that creature
to end, in whom the world, as he thought, did begin to re-
ceive honour ; he saw the weak judgment of man would
condemn that as death-deserving vice in her which had in
troth never broken the bonds of a true living virtue, and that
the first time she should bend her excellent eyes upon him
she should see the accursed author of her dreadful end. And
even this consideration, more than any other, did so set
itself in his well-disposed mind that, dispersing his thoughts
to all the ways that might be of her safety, finding a very
small discourse in so narrow limits of time and place, at
length in many difficulties he saw none bear any likehhood
for her life but his death. For then he thought it would fall
out that, when they found his body dead, having no accuser
but Dametas, as by his speech he found there was not, it
might justly appear that either Philoclea in defending her
honour, or else he himself in despair of achieving, had left
his carcass proof of his intent, but witness of her clearness.
Having a small while stayed upon the greatness of his resolution,
and looked to the furthest of it, " Be it so," said the valiant
Pyrocles : " never life for better cause, nor to a better end,
was bestowed."
But then arose there a new impediment ; for Dametas
having carried away anything which he thought might
hurt as tender a man as himself, he could find no fit instru-
ment which might give him a final despatch ; at length,
making the more haste lest his lady should awake, taking
the iron bar, which, being sharper somewhat at the one
end than the other, he hoped, joined to his willing strength,
might break off the feeble thread of mortality, he strake
it upon his heart side with all the force he had, and falling
withal upon to give it the thorougher passage, the bar in
ARCADIA.— Book IV, AV
troth was too blunt to do the effect, although it pierced
his skin and bruised his ribs very sore, so that his breath
was almost past him. But the noise of his fall drave
away sleep from the quiet senses of the dear Philoclea,
and, borne as fast with desire as fear carried Daphne,
she came running to Pyrocles, and finding his spirits some-
thing troubled with the fall, she put by the bar that lay close
to him, and straining him in her most beloved embracements,
" My comfort, my joy, my life," said she, " what haste have
you to kill your Philoclea with the most cruel torment that
ever lady suffered ! Do you not yet persuade yourself that
any hurt of yours is a death unto me, and that your death
should be my hell ? Alas ! if any sudden mislike of me — for
other cause I see none — have caused you to loath yourself; if
any fault or defect of mine hath bred this terriblest rage in
you, rather let me suffer the bitterness of it, for so shall the
deserver be punished, mankind preserved from such a ruin,
and I, for my part, shall have that comfort that I die by the
noblest hand that ever drew sword."
Pyrocles, grieved with his fortune that he had not in one
instant cut off all such deliberation, thinking his life only re-
served to be bound to be the unhappy news-teller, " Alas !"
said he, " my only star, why do you this wrong to God, your-
self, and me, to speak of faults in you ? No, no, most faultless,
most perfect lady, it is your excellency that makes me hasten
my desired end ; it is the right I owe to the general nature
that, though against private nature, makes me seek the pre-
servation of all that she hath done in this age. Let me, let me
die. There is no way to save your life, most worthy to be
conserved, than that my death be your clearing." Then did
he, with far more pain and backward loathness than the so
near killing himself was, but yet driven with necessity to
make her yield to that he thought was her safety, make her a
428 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
short but pithy discourse, and therewith sought new means of
stopping his breath, but that by Philoclea's labour, above
her force, he was stayed to hear her. She having with a pretty
paleness, which did leave milken lines upon her rosy cheeks,
paid a little duty to human fear, taking the prince by his hand
and kissing the wound he had given himself, " O the only life of
my life, and, if it fall out so, the comfort of my death," said
she, " far, far from you be the doing of me such wrong as to
think I will receive my life as a purchase of your death ; but well
may you make my death so much more miserable as it shall
anything be delayed after my only felicity. Oh no, if die we
must, let us thank death he hath not divided so true an union.
And truly, my Pyrocles, I have heard my father and other wise
men say that the killing of one's self is but a false colour of
true courage, proceeding rather of a fear of a further evil,
either of torment or shame. Whatsoever, would they say,
comes out of despair cannot bear the title of valour, which
should be lifted up to such a height that, holding all things
under itself, it should be able to maintain his greatness even
in the midst of miseries. Lastly, they would say God had
appointed us captains of these our bodily forts, which, with-
out treason to that Majesty, were never to be delivered over
till they were redemanded."
But Pyrocles having with vehement embracings of her got
yet some fruit of his delayed end, he thus answered the wise
innocency of Philoclea : " Lady most worthy not only of life,
but to be the very life of all things, the more notable demon-
strations you make of the love, so far beyond my desert, with
which it pleaseth you to overcome fortune in making me
happy, the more am I even in course of humanity, to leave
that love's force, which I neither can nor will leave, bound
to seek requital's witness that I am not ungrateful, to do
which the infiniteness of your goodness being such as I
ARCADIA.— Book IV, ^429
cannot reach unto it, yet doing all I can, and paying my life,
which is all I have, though it be far, without measure, short
of your desert, yet shall I not die in debt to mine own duty.
And truly the more excellent arguments you made to keep
me from this passage, imagined far more terrible than it is,
the more plainly it makes me to see what reason I have to
prevent the loss not only Arcadia, but all the face of the
earth should receive, if such a tree, which even in his first
spring doth not only bear most beautiful blossoms, but most
rare fruits, should be so untimely cut off. Therefore, O
most truly beloved lady, to whom I desire, for both our
goods, that they may be my last words, give me your
consent, for it is fitter one die than both. And since you
have sufficiently showed you love me, let me claim by that
love you will be content rather to let me die contentedly than
wretchedly — rather with a clear and joyful conscience than
with desperate condemnation in myself. Your father, you
say, was wont to say that this like action doth more proceed
of fear of further evil or shame than of a true courage. But
indeed, and as for my part, I call the immortal truth to wit-
ness that no fear of torment can appal me, having long learned
to set bodily pain but in the second form of my being. And as
for shame, how can I be ashamed of that for which my well-
meaning conscience will answer for me to God, and your
unresistible beauty to the world.'' But to take that argument
in his own force, and grant it done for avoiding of further
pain or dishonour — for, as for the name of fear, it is but an
odious title of passion given to that which true judgment
performeth — grant, I say, it is to shun a worse case, and
truly I do not see but that true fortitude, looking into all
human things with a persisting resolution, carried away
neither with wonder of pleasing things nor astonishment of
the unpleasant, doth not yet deprive itself of the discerning
430 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
the difference of evil, but rather is the only virtue which in
an assured tranquillity shuns the greater by the valiant enter-
ing into the less. Thus for his country's safety he will spend
his life, for the saving of a limb he will not niggardly spare
his goods, for the saving of all his body he will not spare the
cutting off a limb, where indeed the weak-hearted man will
rather die than see the face of a surgeon, who might with as
good reason say that the constant man abides the painful
surgery for fear of a further evil ; but he is content to wait
for death itself. But neither is true, for neither hath the one
any fear, but a well-choosing judgment, nor the other hath
any contentment, but only fear, and not having a heart actively
to perform a matter of pain is forced passively to abide a
greater damage. For to do requires a whole heart, to suffer
falleth easiliest in the broken minds ; and if in bodily torment
thus, much more in shame, wherein, since valour is a virtue,
and virtue is ever limited, we must not run so infinitely as to
think the valiant man is willingly to suffer anything, since the
very suffering of some things is a certain proof of want of
courage. And if anything unwillingly, among the chiefest
may shame go ; for if honour be to be held dear, his contrary
is to be abhorred, and that not for fear, but of a true election :
for which is the less inconvenient, either the loss of some
years more or less — once we know our lives be not immortal —
or the submitting ourselves to each unworthy misery* which
* Each umuorthy misery — This argument in favour of suicide so
much resembles that of Hamlet in his celebrated soliloquy that it is
easy to believe that Shakespeare had this passage in his recollection
when he wrote —
" For who would bear the whips and scorns of time ;
who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life ?"
and, indeed, the whole thirty-three lines, which are of such mighty
import and rough, thoughtful grandeur that even spelling-books,
elegant extracts, and school exercises cannot make them common-
place nor vulgar.
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 431
the foolish world may lay upon us ? As for their reason, that
fear is contrary to hope, neither do I defend fear, nor much
yield to the authority of hope ; to either of which great in-
clining shows but a feeble reason, which must be guided by
his servants ; and who builds not upon hope shall fear no
earthquake of despair. Their last alleging of the heavenly
powers, as it bears the greatest name, so it is the only thing
that at all bred any combat in my mind ; and yet I do not see
but that, if God had made us masters of anything, it is of our
own lives, out of which, without doing wrong to anybody, we
are to issue at our own pleasure. And the same argument
would as much prevail to say we should for no necessity lay
away from us any of our joints, 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 pass to a greater
degree : and if we be lieutenants of God in this little castle,
do you not think we must take warning of him to give over
our charge when he leaves us unprovided of good means to
tarry in it ?"*
" No, certainly do I not," answered the sorrowful Philoclea,
*' since it is not for us to appoint that mighty Majesty what
time he will help us ; the uttermost instant is scope enough
for him to revoke everything to one's own desire. And
therefore to prejudicate his determination is but a doubt of
goodness in him who is nothing but goodness. But when,
indeed, he doth either by sickness or outward force lay death
* Spenser's description of the Cave of Despair is said to have
gained him an introduction to Sidney. Be this as it may, here is a
very curious parallel. A similar argument in favour of suicide,
drawn like the above from the rules of military discipline, is used by
Despair when he would tempt Sir Guyon to slay himself: —
" He that points the centonell his roome
Doth Hcense him depart at sound of morning droome."
— Spenser, Faerie Queene, I. ix. 41.
432 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
upon us, then are we to take knowledge that such is his
pleasure, and to know that all is well that he doth. That
we should be masters of ourselves we can show at all no
title nor claim, since neither we made ourselves nor bought
ourselves ; we can stand upon no other right but his gift,
which he must limit as it pleaseth him. And truly, my most
dear Pyrocles, I must needs protest unto you that I cannot
think your defence even in rules of virtue sufficient. Suf-
ficient and excellent it were if the question were of two out-
ward things, wherein a man might by nature's freedom deter-
mine whether he would prefer shame to pain, present smaller
torment to greater following, or no. But to this, besides the
comparison of the matter's valures,* there is added of the one
part a direct evil doing, which maketh the balance of that
side too much unequal, since a virtuous man without any re-
spect, whether the grief be less or more, is never to do that
which he cannot assure himself is allowable before the Ever-
living Rightfulness, but rather is to think honours or shames,
which stand in other men's true or false judgments pains or
not pains, which yet never approach our souls, to be nothing
in regard of an unspotted conscience. And these reasons do
I remember I have heard good men bring in, that since it
hath not his ground in an assured virtue, it proceeds rather
of some other disguised passion."
Pyrocles was not so much persuaded as delighted by her
well-conceived and sweetly-pronounced speeches ; but when
she had closed her pitiful discourse, and as it were sealed
up her delightful lips with the moistness of her tears, which
followed still one another like a precious rope of pearl, now
thinking it high time, " Be it as you say," said he, " most
virtuous beauty, in all the rest, but never can God himself
persuade me that Pyrocles' life is not well lost for to preserve
* Valures — i.e., value, worth.
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 433
the most admirable Philoclea. But," said he, "most dear
lady, whose contentment I prefer before mine own, and judg-
ment esteem more than mine own, I yield unto your pleasure.
The gods send you have not won your own loss. For my
part, they are my witnesses that I think I do more at your
commandment in delaying my death than another would in
bestowing his life. And now," said he, "as thus far I have
yielded unto you, so grant me recompense thus much again,
that I may find your love in granting as you have found
your authority in obtaining. My humble suit is, you will say
I came in by force into your chamber — for so am I resolved
now to affirm, and that will be the best for us both — but in
no case name my name, that whatsoever come of me my
house be not dishonoured."
Philoclea, fearing lest refusal would turn him back again to
his violent refuge, gave him a certain countenance that might
show she did yield to his request, the later part whereof
indeed she meant for his sake to perform. Neither could
they spend more words together ; for Philanax, with twenty
of the noblest personages of Arcadia after him, were come
into the lodge. Philanax, making the rest to stay below, for
the reverence he bare to womanhood, as stilly as he could
came to the door, and opening it, drew the eyes of these
two doleful lovers upon him, and resting a while upon him-
self, stricken with admiration at the goodly shape of Pyrocles,
whom before he had never seen, and withal remembering,
besides others, the notable act he had done, when with his
courage and eloquence he had saved Basilius, perchance the
whole state from utter ruin, he felt a kind of relenting mind
towards him. But when that same thought came, waited on
with the remembrance of his master's death, which he, by all
probabilities, thought he had been of counsel unto with the
queen, compassion turned to hateful passion, and left in
F F
434 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
Philanax a strange medley betwixt pity and revenge, betwixt
liking and abhorring.
Pyrocles seeing him in such a muse, neither knowing the
man, nor the cause of his coming, but assuring himself it was
for no good, yet thought best to begin with him in this sort :
" Gentleman," said he, " what is the cause of your coming to
my lady Philoclea's chamber? Is it to defend her from
such violence as I might go about to offer unto her ? If be
it so, truly your coming is vain, for her own virtue hath
been a sufficient resistance : there needs no strength to be
added to so inviolate chastity, the excellency of her mind
makes her body impregnable ; which for mine own part I
had soon yielded to confess with going out of this place,
where I found but little comfort, being so disdainfully re-
ceived, had I not been, I know not by whom, presently upon
my coming hither so locked into this chamber that I could
never escape hence ; where I was fettered in the most guilty
shame that ever man was, seeing what a paradise of un-
spotted goodness my filthy thoughts sought to defile. If
for that therefore you come, already I assure you your
errand is performed ; but if it be to bring me to any punish-
ment whatsoever for having undertaken so inexcusable pre-
sumption, truly I bear such an accuser about me of mine
own conscience that I willingly submit myself unto it. Only
thus much let me demand of you, that you will be a witness
unto the king w^hat you hear me say, and oppose yourself that
neither his sudden fury nor any other occasion may offer any
hurt to this lady ; in whom you see nature hath accomplished
so much that I am fain to lay mine own faultiness as a foil
of her purest excellency."
Philanax was content to hear him out, not for any favour
he owed him, but to see whether he w^ould reveal anything
of the original cause and purpose of the king's death. But
ARCADIA.— Book IV, 435
finding it so far from that that he named BasiHus unto him,
as supposing him ahve, thinking it rather cunning than ignor-
ance, '• Young man," said he, " whom I have cause to hate
before I have mean to know, you use but a point of skill by
confessing the manifest smaller fault to be believed hereafter
in the denial of the greater. But, for that matter, all passeth
to one end, and hereafter we shall have leisure by torments
to seek the truth if the love of the truth itself will not bring
you unto it. As for my lady Philoclea, if it so fall out as you
say, it shall be the more fit for her years, and comely for the
great house that she is come of, that an ill-governed beauty
hath not cancelled the rules of virtue. But, howsoever it be,
it is not for you to teach an Arcadian what reverent duty we
owe unto any of that progeny. But," said he, " come with
me without resistance ; for the one cannot avail and the other
may procure pity." " Pity !" said Pyrocles, with a bitter
smiling, disdained with so currish an answer ; " no, no, Arca^
dian, I can quickly have pity of myself, and would think my
life most miserable which should be a gift of thine. Only I
demand this innocent lady's security, which until thou hast
confirmed unto me by an oath, assure thyself the first that
lays hands upon her shall leave his life for a testimony of his
sacrilege."
Philanax with an inward scorn thinking it most manifest
they were both, he at least, of counsel with the king's death,
"Well," said he, "you speak much to me of the king ; I do
here swear unto you by the love I have ever borne him she shall
have no worse, howsoever it fall out, than her own parents."
"And upon that word of yours I yield," said poor Pyrocles,
deceived by him that meant not to deceive him. Then did
Philanax deliver him into the hands of a nobleman in the
company, every one desirous to have him in his charge, so
much did his goodly presence, wherein true valour shined,
F F 2
436 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
breed a delightful admiration in all the beholders. Philanax
himself stayed with Philoclea, to see whether of her he might
learn some disclosing of his former conclusion.
But the sweet lady, whom first a kindly shamefastness had
separated from Pyrocles, now felt his absence, and, according
to the nature of love, fearing the worst, began wringing her
hands, and letting fall abundance of tears, and bending her
amber-crowned head over the bed-side to the hard-hearted
Philanax, " O Philanax," said she, " I know how much authority
you have with my father, and you have often promised to
serve me. Now my chance is turned, let not your truth turn."
But to her he said, " Look for no mercy but that which dread
pitiless laws may allot you. For my part, I loved you for your
virtue ; but now where is that ? I loved you in respect of a
private benefit : what is that in comparison of the public
loss ? I loved you for your father : unhappy folks, you have
robbed the world of him."
These words of her father were so little understood by the
only well-understanding Philoclea that she desired him to tell
her what he meant to speak in such dark sort unto her of her
lord and father, whose displeasure was more dreadful unto her
than her punishment ; that she was free in her own conscience
she had never deserved evil of him — no, not in this last fact ;
wherein, if it pleased him to proceed with patience, he should
find her choice had not been unfortunate. He, that saw her
words written in the plain table of her fair face, thought it
impossible there should therein be contained deceit, and
therefore so much the more abashed, " Why," said he,
" madam, would you have me think you are not of conspiracy
with the Princess Pamela's flight and your father's death ?"
With that word the sweet lady gave a pitiful cry, having
straight in her face and breast abundance of witnesses that
her heart was far from any such abominable consent "Ah, of
ARCADIA.— Book IV, 437
all sides utterly ruined Philoclea," said she, "now indeed I may
well suffer all conceit of hope to die in me. Dear father,
where was I, that might not do you my last service before
soon after miserably following you ?" Philanax perceived the
demonstration so lively and true in her that he easily acquitted
her in his heart of that fact, and the more was moved to join
with her in most hearty lamentation. But, remembering him
that the burthen of the state and punishment of his master's
murtherers lay all upon him, "Well," said he, "madam, I can
do nothing without all the states of Arcadia ; what they will
determine of you I know not ; for my part, your speeches
would much prevail with me, but that I find not how to excuse
your giving over your body to him that, for the last proof of
his treason, lent his garments to disguise your miserable
mother in the most vile fact she committed. Hard, sure, it
will be to separate your causes, with whom you have so nearly
joined yourself." " Neither do I desire it," said the sweetly-
weeping Philoclea : " whatsoever you determine of him, do
that likewise to me ; only as you find him faultless let him
find you favourable, and build not my dishonour upon sur-
mises." Philanax, feeling his heart more and more mollifying
unto her, renewed the image of his dead master in his fancy,
and, using that for the spurs of his revengeful choler, went
suddenly without any more speech from the desolate lady,
leaving good guard upon the lodge, himself to see the order
of his other prisoners, whom even then as he issued he found
increased by this unhoped means : —
The noble Pamela reposed both mind and body upon the
trusted support of her princely shepherd when, with the braying
cries of a rascal company, she was robbed of her quiet, so that
at one instant she opened her eyes and the enraged Musidorus
rose from her. But the clowns, having with their hideous
noise brought them both to their feet, had soon knowledge what
438 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
guests they had found ; for indeed these were the scummy*
remnant of those rebels whose naughty minds could not trust
so much to the goodness of their prince as to lay their hang-
worthy necks upon the constancy of his promised pardon.
In this sort vagabonding in those untrodden places, they
were guided by the everlasting justice, using themselves to
be punishers of their faults, making their own actions the
beginning of their chastisements, unhappily, both for him
and themselves, to light on Musidorus, whom, as soon as
they saw turned towards them, they full well remembered
it was he that, accompanied with Basilius, had come to the
succour of Zelmane, and had left among some of them
bloody tokens of his valour. As for Pamela, they had
many times seen her. Thus, first stirred up with a rustical
revenge against him, without any other denouncing of war,
they set all together upon the worthy Musidorus, who, after
performing many deeds of valour and slaying some of his
assailants, was constrained to yield himself an unwilling pri-
soner, since one of the rabble, compassing about some trees,
surprised the lady Pamela, and holding to her fair throat his
dagger, threatened to kill her unless Musidorus yielded. He,
seeing that it stood upon the point of his dear lady's life, gave
up his sword ; and, either by fortune or the inward working
virtue of those two lovers, the villains took two horses, and
having set upon them their princely prisoners, they returned
towards the lodge, having decked all their heads with laurel
branches, as thinking they had done a notable act, and, singing
and shouting, ran by them in hope to have brought them the
same day again to the king. But the time was so far spent
that they were forced to take up that night's lodging in the
midst of the woods ; where Musidorus, taking the tender hand
of Pamela and bedewing it with his tears, in this sort gave an
"■"' Scummy — The draggled ends of the mob, the scum of the people.
ARCADIA.— Book IV, 439
issue to the swelling of his heart's grief. " Most excellent
lady," said he, " in what case, think you, am I with myself,
how unmerciful judgments do I lay upon my soul now that I
know not what god hath so reversed my well-meaning enter-
prise as, instead of doing you that honour which I hoped, and
not without reason hoped, Thessalia should have yielded unto
you, am now like to become a wretched instrument of your
discomfort ? Alas ! how contrary an end have all the inclina-
tions of my mind taken ; my faith falls out a treason unto you,
and the true honour I bear you is the field wherein your dis^
honour is like to be sown !" " My dear and ever dear Musi-
dorus," said she, " a greater wrong do you to yourself that
will torment you thus with grief for the fault of fortune. Since
a man is bound no further to himself than to do wisely, chance
is only to trouble them that stand upon chance. But greater
is the wrong — at least, if anything that comes from you may
bear the name of wrong — you do unto me, to think me either
so childish as not to perceive your faithful faultlessness, or,
perceiving it, so basely disposed as to let my heart be over-
thrown, standing upon itself in so unspotted a pureness.
For how can I want comfort that have the true and living
comfort of my unblemished virtue 'i and how can I want
honour as long as Musidorus, in whom indeed honour is, doth
honour me ? Now let us turn from these things, and think
you how you will have me behave myself towards you in
this matter."
Musidorus, finding the authority of her speech con-
firmed with direct necessity, the first care that came to
his mind was of his dear friend and cousin Pyrocles, with
whom long before he had concluded what names they should
bear, if upon any occasion they were forced to give themselves
out for great men, and yet not make themselves fully known.
Now, fearing lest, if the princess should name him for
440 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
Musidorus, the fame of their two being together would discover
Pyrocles, holding her hand betwixt his hands a good while
together, " I did not think, most excellent princess," said he,
" to have made any further request unto you ; for, having been
already to you so unfortunate a suitor, I know not what
modesty can bear any further demand. But the estate of one
young man whom, next to you, far above myself, I love more
than all the world, one worthy of all well-being for the notable
constitution of his mind, and most unworthy to receive hurt
by me, whom he doth in all faith and constancy love, the pity
of him only goes beyond all resolution to the contrary."
Then did he, to the princess' great admiration, tell her the
whole story as far as he knew of it, and that when they made
the grievous disjunction of their long combination, they had
concluded Musidorus should entitle himself Palladius, Prince
of Iberia, and Pyrocles should be Daiphantus of Lycia.
" Now," said Musidorus, " he keeping a woman's habit is
to use no other name than Zelmane ; but that I find it best
of the one side for your honour you went away with a prince
and not with a shepherd, of the other side accounting my
death less evil than the betraying of that sweet friend of mine,
will take this mean betwixt both, and, using the name of Pal-
ladius, if the respect of a prince will stop your father's fury,
that will serve as well as Musidorus, until Pyrocles' fortune
being someway established, I may freely give good proof that
the noble country of Thessalia is mine ; and if that will not
mitigate your father's opinion to mewards, nature, I hope,
working in your excellency, will make him deal well by you.
For my part, the image of death is nothing fearful unto me ;
and this good I shall have reaped by it, that I shall leave my
most esteemed friend in no danger to be disclosed by me."
Pamela, promising him upon no occasion ever to name him,
fell into extremity of weeping, as if her eyes had been content
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 441
to spend all their seeing moistness, now that there was a
speech of the loss of that which they held as their chiefest
light ; so that Musidorus was forced to repair her good
counsels with sweet consolations, which continued betwixt
them until sleep having stolen into their heavy senses, their
lobbish* guard, who all night had kept themselves awake with
prating how valiant deeds they had done when they ran away,
and how fair a death their fellow had died, who at his last
gasp sued to be a hangman, awaked them and set them upon
their horses, to whom the very shining force of excellent
virtue, though in a very harrishf subject, had wrought a kind
of reverence in them.
Being now come within the plain near to the lodges, they
espied a troop of horsemen, who were some of them Philanax
had sent out to the search of Pamela, come galloping unto
them, and who marvelled who they were that in such a
general mourning durst sing joyful tunes, and in so public a
ruin wear the laurel token of victory. And that which seemed
strangest, they might see two among them unarmed like pri-
soners, but riding like captains ; but when they came nearer
they perceived the one was a lady, and the lady Pamela.
Then, glad they had by hap found that which they so little
hoped to meet withal, taking these clowns, who first resisted
them, for the desire they had to be the deliverers of the two
excellent prisoners, learning that they were of those rebels
which had made the dangerous uproar, as well under colour
to punish that as this their last withstanding them, but in-
deed their principal cause being because they themselves
would have the only praise of their own quest, they suffered
* Lobbish — Clownish or lubberish ; from the old word lob^ a
clown, or lubber. " Farewell, thou lob of spirits." — Midsummer-
Night's Dream, act ii., sc. I.
f Harrish — The old form of our modern word " harsh."
442 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
not one of them to live. Mary,* three of the stiibbornest of
them they left their bodies hanging upon the trees, because
their doing might carry the likelier form of judgment. Such
an unlooked-for end did the life of justice work for the
naughty-minded wretches, by subjects to be executed that
would have executed princes, and to suffer that without law
which by law they had deserved. And thus these young
folks, twice prisoners before any due arrest, delivered of their
jailers but not of their jail, had rather change than respite of
misery ; these soldiers, that took them with very few words
of entertainment, hasting to carry them to their lord Philanax.
When Pyrocles, led towards his prison, saw his friend
Musidorus, with the noble lady Pamela, in that unexpected
sort returned, his grief — if any grief were in a mind which
had placed everything according to his natural worth — was
very much augmented ; for besides some small hope he had,
if Musidorus had once been clear of Arcadia, by his dealing
and authority to have brought his only gladsome desires to
a good issue, the hard estate of his friend did no less — nay,
rather more — vex him than his own. But, as soon as Musidorus
was brought by the soldiers near unto Philanax, Pyrocles not
knowing whether ever after he should be suffered to see his
friend, and determining there could be no advantage by
dissembling a not knowing of him, leapt suddenly from their
hands that held him, and passing with a strength strengthened
with a true affection through them that encompassed Musi-
dorus, he embraced him as fast as he could in his arms, and
kissing his cheeks, " O my Palladius," said he, " let not our
virtue now abandon us ; let us prove our minds are no slaves
to fortune, but in adversity can triumph over adversity."
" Dear Daiphantus," answered Musidorus, seeing by his
* Mary — Sometimes spelt 7?iai'?y, an abbreviated form of the
oath "by the Virgin Mary."
ARCADIA.— Book IV. 443
apparel his being a man was revealed, " I thank you for this
best care of my best part ; but fear not, I have kept too long
company with you to want now a thorough determination of
these things ; I well know there is nothhig evil but within us
— the rest is either natural or accidental." Philanax, finding
them of so near acquaintance, began presently to examine
them apart ; but such resolution he met with in them that by
no such means he could learn further than it pleased them
to deliver, so that he thought best to put them both in one
place, with espial of their words and behaviour, and for that
purpose gave them both unto the nobleman who before had
the custody of Pyrocles, by name Sympathus.
No man that hath ever passed through the school of affec-
tion needs doubt what a tormenting grief it was to the noble
Pamela to have the company of him taken from her to whose
virtuous company she had bound her hfe, but, weighing
with herself it was fit for her honour, till her doing were
clearly manifested, that they should remain separate, kept
down the rising tokens of grief, showing passion in nothing
but her eyes, which accompanied Musidorus even unto the
tent whither he and Pyrocles were led. Then, with a coun-
tenance more princely than she was wont, according to the
wont of highest hearts, like the palm-tree striving most up-
ward when he is most burthened, she commanded Philanax
to bring her to her father and mother that she might render
them account of her doings. Philanax, showing a sullen kind
of reverence unto her, as a man that honoured her as his
master's heir, but much misliked her for her— in his conceit-
dishonourable proceedings, told her what was passed, rather to
answer her than that he thought she was ignorant of it. But her
good spirit did presently suffer a true compassionate afflic-
tion of those hard adventures, which with crossing her arms,
looking a great while on the ground with those eyes which
444 ARCADIA.— Book IV.
let fall many tears, she well declared ; but, in the end re-
membering how necessary it was for her not to lose herself
in such an extremity, she strengthened her well-created heart,
and stoutly demanded Philanax what authority then they had
to lay hands on her person, who being the undoubted heir
was then the lawful princess of that kingdom. Philanax
answered, her grace knew the ancient laws of Arcadia bare
she was to have no sway of government till she came to one-
and-twenty years of age, or were married.
" And married I am," replied the wise princess ; " therefore
I demand your due allegiance." " The gods forbid," said
Philanax, " Arcadia should be a dowry of such marriages !"
Besides, he told her all the states of her country were evil
satisfied touching her father's death. After that she should have
obedience as by the laws was due unto her, desiring God she
would show herself better in public government than she had
done in private. She would have spoken to the gentlemen and
people gathered about her, but Philanax, fearing lest thereby
some commotion might arise, hasted her up to the lodge where
her sister was, and there, with a chosen company of soldiers to
guard the place, left her with Philoclea, Pamela protesting
they laid violent hands on her. But high time it was for Phi-
lanax so to do ; for already was all the whole multitude fallen
into confused and dangerous divisions.
Among the noblemen that had set themselves against
Philanax, the most open was one Timautus, a man of middle
age, but of extreme ambition, who placed his utmost good in
greatness, thinking it small difference how he came by it ;
of commendable wit too, if he had not made it a servant
to unbridled desires. He, shameless and bold, proposed, for
his own purposes, to deliver the queen and the princesses.
But Philanax came amongst them thereat, and urged that
ihey should take in hand the punishment of their master's
ARCADIA,-~Book IV. 445
murtherers, " laying order," said he, " for the government ; by
whomsoever it be done, so it be done, and done justly, I am
satisfied. For the care of my heart stands to repay that
wherein both I and most of you were tied to that prince."
As he spake his last words, there came one running to him
with open mouth and fearful eyes, telling him that there was
a great number of the people which were bent to take the
young men out of Sympathus' hands, and, as it should seem
by their acclamations, were like enough to proclaim them
princes. Among these, the chief man both in authority and
love was Kalander, he that not long before had been host to
the two princes, whom though he knew not so much as by
name, yet stood bound to them for preserving the lives of
his son and nephew.
But Philanax came in time to withstand them, both sides
yet standing in arms, and rather wanting a beginning than
minds to enter into a bloody conflict, which Philanax fore-
seeing, thought best to remove the prisoners secretly, and, if
need were, rather without form of justice to kill them than
against justice, as he thought, to have them usurp the state.
But there again arose a new trouble ; for Sympathus, the
nobleman that kept them, was so stricken in compassion
with their excellent presence that, as he would not falsify
his promise to Philanax to give them liberty, so yet would
he not yield them to himself, fearing he would do them
violence. Thus tumult upon tumult arising, the sun, I
think, aweary to see their discords, had already gone down
to his western lodging.
The End of the Fourth Bookr^
* A fourth Eclogue concludes the fourth Book ; and this also, in
pursuance of our plan, is omitted, Sidney, or its author, himself
owning that it is " perchance a tedious digression."
The Fifth Book.
HE dangerous division of men's minds, the ruinous
renting of all estates, had now brought Arcadia to
feel the pangs of the uttermost peril — such convul-
sions never coming but that the life of that go-
vernment draws near his necessary period — when
to the honest and wise Philanax, equally distracted betwixt
desire of his master's revenge and care of the estate's estab-
lishment, there came, unlooked for, a Macedonian gentleman,
who in short but pithy manner delivered unto him that the
renowned Euarchus, king of Macedon, purposing to have
yisited his old friend and confederate the king Basilius, was
now come within half-a-mile of the lodges, where having
understood by certain shepherds the sudden death of their
prince, had sent unto him, of whose authority and faith he
had good knowledge, desiring him to advertise him in what
security he might rest there for that night, where willingly he
would, if safely he might, help to celebrate the funerals of his
ancient companion and ally ; adding he need not doubt, since
he had brought but twenty in his company, he wijuld be so
unwise as to enter into any forcible attempt with so small
force.
Philanax, having entertained the gentleman, desired him
to return to the king his master, and to beseech him,
though with his pains, to stay for an hour or two where he
ARCADIA.— Book V. U7
was, till he had set things in better order to receive him ; he
himself went first to the noblemen, then to Kalander and
the principal Mantineans, who were most opposite unto him,
desiring them that, as the night had most blessedly stayed
them from entering into civil blood, so they would be content
in the night to assemble the people together to hear some
news which he was to deliver unto them.
There is nothing more desirous of novelties than a man
that fears his present fortune. Therefore they whom mutual
diffidence made doubtful of their utter destruction were
quickly persuaded to hear of any new matter which might
alter, at least, if not help the nature of their fear ; namely,
the chiefest men, who, as they had most to lose, so were most
jealous of their own case. And to them, aware of the labour-
ing of Timautus to have withdrawn them from his assembly,
Philanax said, " I will deliver to you what blessed mean* the
gods have sent, if you like to embrace it. There be none of
you, I think, but have heard of that just prince Euarchus, king
of Macedon ; a prince with whom our late master did ever
hold most perfect alliance. He, even he, is this day come,
having but twenty horse with him, within two miles of this
place, hoping to have found the virtuous Basilius alive, but
now willing to do honour to his death. Surely, surely the
heavenly powers have in too full a time bestowed him on
us to unite our divisions. For my part, therefore, I wish that,
since among ourselves we cannot agree in so manifold
partialities, we do put the ordering of all these things into
his hands, as well touching the obsequies of the king, the
* Mean — Fr. jnoyeji, Lat. medium — now and for some time used
in the plural, means the agency or instrumentality by which a thing
is done. "O Blessed Lady, be thou the meane and medyatryce
between thy Sonne and wretched synners that hee punnysshe not
euerlastyngely. " — FiSHER, Seuen Psalmes, Ps, 38. ,
448 ARCADIA.—Book V.
punishment of his death, as the marriage and crowning of our
princess."
When Philanax first named Euarchus' landing, there was a
muttering murmur among the people, as though in that evil-
ordered weakness of theirs he had come to conquer their
country. But when they understood he had a small re-
tinue, whispering one with another, and looking who should
begin to confirm Philanax's proposition, at length Sympathus
was the first that allowed it, then the rest of the noblemen.
And then, having taken a general oath that they should,
in the nonage of the princess, or till these things were
settled, yield full obedience to Euarchus, so far as were not
prejudicial to the laws, customs, and liberties of Arcadia,
he himself, honourably accompanied with a great number
of torches,* went to the king Euarchus, whose coming in this
sort into Arcadia had thus fallen out.
The woeful Prince Plangus, receiving of Basilius no other
succours but only certain to conduct him to Euarchus, made
all possible speed towards Byzantium, where he understood
the king, having concluded all his wars with the winning of
that town, had now for some good space made his abode.
But being far gone on his way, he received certain intelligence
that Euarchus was not only some days before returned into
]\Iacedon, but since was gone with some haste to visit that
coast of his country that lay towards Italy, and was now
come to Aulon, a principal port of his realm, when the poor
Plangus, extremely wearied with his long journey — desire of
succouring Erona no more relieving than fear of not suc-
couring her in time aggravating his travel — by a lamentable
narration of his children's death, called home his cares from
encountering foreign enemies to suppress the insurrection of
inward passions. But the face of Euarchus' sorrow, to the
* See note, p. 250.
ARCADIA,— Book V. 449
one in nature, to both in afifection a father, and judging the
world so much the more unworthily deprived of those ex-
cellencies as himself was better judge of so excellent worthi-
ness, can no otherwise be shadowed out by the skilfullest
pencil than by covering it over with the veil of silence. And,
indeed, that way himself took, with so patient a quietness
receiving this pitiful relation that, all the words of weakness
suppressed, magnanimity seemed to triumph over misery.
Only receiving of Plangus perfect instruction of all things
concerning Plexirtus and Artaxia, with promise not only to
aid him in delivering Erona, but also with vehement protes-
tation never to return into Macedon till he had pursued the
murtherers to death, he despatched with speed a ship for By-
zantium, commanding the governor to provide all necessaries
for the war against his own coming, which he purposed
should be very shortly. In this ship Plangus would needs
go, impatient of stay, for that in many days before he had
understood nothing of his lady's estate. Soon after whose
departure news was brought to Euarchus that all his ships
detained in Italy were returned. By means whereof Euar-
chus, with so great a fleet as haste would suffer him to as-
semble, forthwith embarked for Byzantium. And now, followed
with fresh winds, he had in a short time run a long course,
when on a night, encountered with an extreme tempest, his
ships were so scattered that scarcely any two were left toge-
ther. As for the king's own ship, deprived of all company,
sore bruised, and weather-beaten, able no longer to brook
the sea's churlish entertainment, a little before day it reco-
vered the shore.
The first light made them see it was the unhappy coast of
Laconia, for no other country could have shown the like
evidence of unnatural war ; which having long endured be-
tween the nobihty and the Helots, and once compounded by
G G
450 ARCADIA.— Book V.
Pyrocles, under the name of Daiphantus, immediately upon
his departure had broken out more violently than ever before.
For the king, taking opportunity of their captain's absence,
refused to perform the conditions of peace, as extorted from
him by rebellious violence ; whereupon they were again deeply
entered into war, with so notable an hatred towards the very-
name of a king that Euarchus, though a stranger unto them,
thought it not safe there to leave his person, where neither
his own force could be a defence, nor the sacred name of
majesty a protection. Therefore, calling to him an Arcadian — ■
one that, coming with Plangus, had remained with Euarchus,
desirous to see the wars — he demanded of him for the next place
of surety, where he might make his stay until he might hear
somewhat of his fleet, or cause his ship to be repaired. The
gentleman, glad to have this occasion of doing service to
Euarchus, and honour to Basilius — to whom he knew he
should bring a most welcome guest— told him that, if it pleased
him to commit himself to Arcadia, a part whereof lay open
to their view, he would undertake, ere the next night were far
spent, to guide him safely to his master Basilius.
The present necessity much prevailed with Euarchus, yet
a more certain virtuous desire to try whether by his authority
he might withdraw Basilius from burying himself alive, and
to employ the rest of his old years in doing good, the only
happy action of man's life. Now a prince being, and not doing,
like a prince, keeping and not exercising the place, they were
in so much more evil case as they could not provide for their
evil. These rightly wise and virtuous considerations especially
moved Euarchus to take his journey towards the desert,
where arriving within night, and understanding, to his great
grief, the news of the prince's death, he waited for his safe
conduct from Philanax. But Philanax, as soon as he M^as in
sight of him, lighting from his horse, presented himself unto
ARCADIA.— Book V. 451
him in all those humble behaviours which not only the great
reverence of the party, but the conceit of one's own misery
is wont to frame. Euarchus rose up unto him with so
gracious a countenance as the goodness of his mind had
long exercised him unto ; careful so much more to descend
in all courtesies as he saw him bear a low representation of
his afflicted state. And Philanax, as soon as by near looking
he might behold him, conjured Euarchus to abide, the people
having yielded themselves over to him as elected protector
of the kingdom, reserving only to Basilius' blood the right,
and begging for the ancient prescribing of their laws.
Euarchus, utterly unlooking for this request, and yet with
a secret assurance of his own worthiness, but held back
by his own business, after some parley, yielded to take
upon himself the judgment of this cause. 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's embassage. But v/hen
they saw Philanax return, having on his right hand the king
Euarchus, on whom they had now placed the greatest burthen
of their fears, with joyful shouts and applauding acclamations
they made him and the world quickly know that one man's
sufficiency is more available than ten thousands' multitude.
For, as if Euarchus had been born of the princely blood
of Arcadia, or that long and well-acquainted proof had
ingrafted him in their country, so flocked they about this
stranger, most of them already from dejected fears rising to
ambitious considerations, who should catch the first hold
of his favour ; and then from those crying welcomes to
babbling one with the other, some praising Philanax for his
exceeding pain, others hking Euarchus' aspect, and as they
judged his age by his face, so judging his wisdom by his age.
Euarchus passed through them hke a man that did neither
G G 2
452 ARCADIA.— Book V.
disdain a people, nor yet was anything tickled with their flat- j
teries, but, always holding his own, a man might read a
constant determination in his eyes. And in that sort dis-
mounting among them, he forthwith demanded the convo-
cation to be made, which accordingly was done, and he
being raised up upon a place more high than the rest, where
he might be best understood, in this sort spake unto them :
" I understand," said he, " faithful Arcadians, by my lord
Philanax, that you have with one consent chosen me to be
the judge of the late evils happened, orderer of the present
disorders, and finally protector of this country, till therein it
be seen what the customs of Arcadia require." He could say
no further, being stopped with a general cry that so it was,
giving him all the honourable titles and happy wishes they
could imagine. He beckoned unto them for silence, and then
thus again proceeded : " Well," said he, " how good choice
you have made, the attending must be in you — the proof in
me. But, because it many times falls out we are much de-
ceived in others, we being the first to deceive ourselves, I am
to require you not to have an overshooting expectation of me.
Secondly, that you will lay your hearts void of foretaken
opinions ; else, whatsoever I do or say will be measured by
a wrong rule. Thirdly, whatsoever debates have risen
among you may be utterly extinguished. Lastly, that you do
not easily judge of your judge, but, since you will have me to
command, think it is your part to obey. And, in reward of
this, I will promise and protest unto you that the uttermost
of my skill, both in the general laws of nature, especially of
Greece, and particular of Arcadia (wherein I must confess
I am not unacquainted), I will not only see the past evils
duly punished, and your weal hereafter established, but, for
your defence in it, if need shall require, I will employ the
force and treasures of mine own countr}^ In the meantime,
ARCADIA.— Book V. 453
this shall be the first order I will take, that no man, under
pain of grievous punishment, name me by any other name
but protector of Arcadia. First, therefore, I mean the trying
which be guilty of the king's death, and those other heinous
trespasses ; and because your customs require such haste, I
will no longer delay it than till to-morrow, as soon as the sun
shall give us fit opportunity. You may therefore retire your-
self to your rest, that you may be readier to be present at
these so great important matters."
With many allowing tokens was Euarchus' speech heard,
who now by Philanax, that took the principal care of doing
all due services unto him, was offered a lodging made ready
for him, the rest of the people, as well as a small commodity
of that place would suffer, yielding their weary heads to sleep ;
when, lo ! the night throughly spent in these mixed matters,
was for that time banished the face of the earth, and Euarchus
seeing the day begin to disclose his comfortable beauties, de-
siring nothing more than to join speed with justice, willed
Philanax presently to make the judgment place be put in
order, and, as soon as the people, who yet were not fully
dispersed, might be brought together, to bring forth the pri-
soners and the king's body, which the manner was should
in such cases be held in sight, though covered with black
velvet, until they that were accused to be the murtherers
were quitted or condemned.
The friendly host of the two princes, the honest gentle-
man Kalander, seeking all means how to help them, had en-
deavoured to speak with them and to make them know who
should be their judge. But the curious* servant of Philanax
forbade him the entry upon pain of death. So that Kalander
was constrained to retire himself, having yet obtained thus
much, that he would deliver unto the two princes their apparel
* Curious — i.e.^ scrupulous, particular.
454 ARCADIA.— Book V,
and jewels, which being left with him at Mantinea, wisely con-
sidering that their disguised weeds, which were all as then
they had, would make them more odious in the sight of the
judges, he had that night sent for and now brought unto
them. They accepted their own with great thankfulness,
knowing from whence it came, and attired themselves in it
against the next day, which being indeed rich and princely,
they accordingly determined to maintain the names of Palla-
dius and Daiphantus as before it is mentioned.
As soon as the morning had taken a full possession of the
element, Euarchus called unto him Philanax, and willed him
to draw out into the midst of the green, before the chief lodge,
the throne of judgment seat, in which Basilius was wonttosit,
and according to their customs was ever carried with the prince.
For Euarchus did wisely consider the people to be naturally
taken with exterior shows, far more than with inward con-
sideration of the material points. And therefore, in this new
entry into so entangled a matter, he would leave nothing which
might be either an armour or an ornament unto him ; and in
these pompous ceremonies he well knew a secret of govern-
ment much to consist. That was performed by the diligent
Philanax ; and therein Euarchus did set himself all clothed in
black, with the principal men who could in that suddenness
provide themselves of such mourning raiments. As for Phi-
lanax, Euarchus would have done him the honour to sit by
him, but he excused himself, desiring to be the accuser of
the prisoners in his master's behalf; and therefore, since he
m.ade himself a party,* it was not convenient for him to sit in
the judicial place.
Then was it a while deliberated whether the two young
ladies should be brought forth in open presence, but that was
stopped by Philanax, whose love and faith did descend from
* Party — One who takes or pursues one part or side in an affair.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 455
his master to his children, and only desired the smart should
light upon the others, whom he thought guilty of his death
and dishonour. Then the king's body being laid upon a
table just before Euarchus, and all covered over with black,
the prisoners — namely, the queen and two young princes —
were sent for to appear in the protector's name, which name
was the cause they came not to knowledge how near a
kinsman was to judge of them, but thought him to be
some nobleman chosen by the country in this extremity. So
extraordinary a course had the order of the heavens pro-
duced at this time that both nephew and son were not only
prisoners, but unknown to their uncle and father, who of many
years had not seen them ; and Pyrocles was to plead for his
life before that throne, in which throne lately before he had
saved the king's life.
But first was Gynecia led forth in the same weeds that the
day and night before she had worn, saving that, instead of
Zelmane's garment, in which she was found, she had cast on
a long cloak which reached to the ground, of russet coarse
cloth, with a poor felt hat which almost covered all her face,
most part of her goodly hair, on which her hands had laid
many a spiteful hold, so lying upon her shoulders as a man
might well see had no artificial carelessness. Her eyes down
on the ground, of purpose not to look on Pyrocles' face, which
she did not so much shun for the unkindness she conceived
of her own overthrow as for the fear those motions in this
short time of her hfe should be received which she had v/ith
the passage of infinite sorrows mortified. Great was the com-
passion the people felt to see their princess' state and beauty
so deformed by fortune and her own desert whom they had
ever found a lady most worthy of all honour. But by-and-by
the sight of the other two prisoners drew most of the eyes to
that spectacle.
456 ARCADIA.— Book V.
Pyrocles came out led by Sympathus, clothed, after the
Greek manner, in a long coat of white velvet reaching to the
small of his leg, with great buttons of diamonds all along upon
it ; his neck, without any collar, not so much as hidden with
a ruff, did pass the whiteness of his garments, which was not
much in fashion unlike to the crimson raiment our knights of
the Order* first put on. On his feet he had nothing but slippers,
which, after the ancient manner, were tied up with certain
laces, which were fastened under his knee, having wrapped
about with many pretty knots his naked legs. His fair auburn
hair, which he ware in great length, and gave at that time a
delightful show with being stirred up and down with the
breath of a gentle wind, had nothing upon it but white ribbon,
in those days used for a diadem, which, rolled once or twice
about the uppermost part of his forehead, fell down upon his
back, closed up at each end with the richest pearl were to be
seen in the world. After him followed another nobleman,
guiding the noble Musidorus, who had upon him a long cloak,
after the fashion of that which we call the Apostle's j\Iantle,t
* Knights of the Order — Probably of the Order of the Bath, which
Mr. Anstis, "with his usual precision and clearness, hath fully proved
that William the Conqueror and the succeeding kings of England
conferred." The learned Camden believed in the great antiquity of
this order (probably not older than the reign of Henry IV.), the vow
of which proceeding, says the oath, "from a pure mind and honest
intention," would have charmed the chivalric Sidney. The mantle
is of crimson taffeta, lined with white. The order was in great
esteem till the death of Charles XL, when it fell into such disuse that
no knight thereof was made till George II. revived it in the eleventh
year of his reign, May 1724. Sidney, in 1583, acted as proxy, being
previously knighted by Elizabeth, for Prince Casimir, who was thus
made a Knight of the Garter — but the mantle of that order is blue.
Sidney was knighted because no one, unless a knight, could stand a
proxy for the Garter. — See Bourne's Life of Sidney, p. 364.
+ Apostle s Mantle — A long cloak fastened at the neck by a boss,
brooch, or fibula, and falling over the shoulders ; as seen on the
figures of saints in old glass paintings.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 457
made of purple satin ; not that purple which we now have
and is but a counterfeit of the Getulian purple, which yet was
far the meaner in price and estimation, but of the right Tyrian
purple, which was nearest to a colour betwixt our murrey* and
scarlet. On his head, which was black and curled, he ware a
Persian tiara, all set down with rows of so rich rubies as they
were enough to speak for him that they had to judge of no
mean personage.
In this sort, with erected countenances, did these unfor-
tunate princes suffer themselves to be led, showing aright by
the comparison of them and Gynecia how to divers persons
compassion is diversely to be stirred. And such effect in-
deed it wrought in the whole assembly, their eyes yet
standing as it were in balance to whether of them they
should most direct their sight. Musidorus was in stature
so much higher than Pyrocles as commonly is gotten by
one year's growth. His face, now beginning to have some
tokens of a beard, was composed to a kind of manlike beauty.
His colour was of a well-pleasing brownness, and the features
of it such as they carried both delight and majesty ; his
countenance severe, and promising a mind much given to
thinking. Pyrocles of a pure complexion, and of such a
cheerful favour as might seem either a woman's face in a boy,
or an excellent boy's face in a woman : his look gentle and
bashful, which bred the more admiration, having showed such
notable proofs of courage. Lastly, though both had both,t if
there were any odds, Musidorus was the more goodly, and
Pyrocles the more lovely. But, as soon as Musidorus saw
himself so far forth led among the people that he knew to a
great number of them his voice should be heard, misdoubting
their intention to the Princess Pamela, of whom he was more
* Murrey — A dark reddish brown.
t Both had both — i.e.^ goodliness and loveliness.
458 ARCADIA.— Boole V.
careful than of his own life, even as he went, though his leader
sought to interrupt him, he with a loud voice spake unto them,
desiring the Arcadians to be true to the blood of Basilius,
to the Princess Pamela, the just inheritrix of this kingdom.
But Sympathus and the Arcadians assured him that they
acknowledged their sovereign lady, but until she was of age
s-he must have a protector whom by the state of the country
might be guided, and that eased Musidorus' heart of his most
vehement care.
But Pyrocles, as soon as the queen of the one side, he and
Musidorus of the other, were stayed before the face of their
judge, having only for their bar the table on which the king's
body lay, being nothing less vexed with the doubt of Philoclea
than Musidorus was for Pamela, in this sort, with a lowly
behaviour, and only then like a suppliant, he spake to the
protector : —
" Pardon me, most honoured judge," saith he, " since I tell
you in the sacred exercise of justice the naked truth freely set
down. I attest Heaven — to blaspheme which I am not now in
fit tune — that so much as my coming into the lady Philoclea's
chamber was not known to her. In the name of justice, which
compels me to use my tongue against myself, punish in me
that misfortune which by me hath fallen on her."
He had not spoken his last word, when all the whole people,
both of great and low estate, confirmed with an united mur-
mur Pyrocles' demand, longing, for the love generally was
borne Philoclea, to know what they might hope of her.
Euarchus, though neither regarding a prisoners passionate
prayer nor bearing over-plausible ears to a many-headed
motion, yet well enough content to win their liking with things
in themselves indifferent, he was content first to seek as much
as might be of Philoclea's behaviour in this matter, which
being cleared by Pyrocles and but weakly gainsaid by Philanax,
ARCADIA.— Book V. 459
who had framed both his own and Dametas' evidence most
for her favour, and in truth could have gone no further
than conjecture, yet finding by his wisdom that she was not
altogether faultless, he pronounced she should all her life
long be kept prisoner among certain women of religion like
the vestal nuns, so to repay the touched honour of her house
with well observing a strict profession of chastity. Although
this were a great prejudicating of Pyrocles' case, yet was he
exceeding joyous of it, being assured of his lady's Hfe ; and
in the depth of his mind not sorry that, what end soever he
had, none should obtain the after enjoying that jewel whereon
he had set his hfe's happiness.
After it was by public sentence delivered what should be
done with the sweet Philoclea, the laws of Arcadia bearing
that what was appointed by the magistrates in the nonage of
the prince could not afterwards be repealed, Euarchus still
using to himself no other name but protector of Arcadia,
commanded those that had to say against the queen Gynecia
to proceed, because both her estate required she should be
first heard, and also for that she was taken to be the principal
in the greater matter they were to judge of. Philanax incon-
tinently stepped forth, and showing in his greedy eyes that he
did thirst for her blood, began a well-thought-on discourse
of her in his judgment execrable wickedness. But Gynecia
standing up before the judge, casting abroad her arms, with
her eyes hidden under the breadth of her unseemly hat, laying
open in all her gestures the despairful affliction to which all
the might of her reason was converted, with such like words
stopped Philanax as he was entering into his invective oration.
" Stay, stay, Philanax," said she : " do not defile thy honest
mouth with those dishonourable speeches thou art about to
utter against a woman, now most wretched, lately thy mistress.
Let either the remembrance how great she was move thy
46o ARCADIA.— Book V.
heart to some reverence, or the seeing how low she is stir in
thee some pity. I say to thee, O just judge, that I and only
I was the worker of Basilius' death ; they were these hands
that gave unto him the poisonous potion that hath brought
death to him and loss to Arcadia ; it was I, and none but I,
that hastened his aged years to an unnatural end, and that
have made all his people orphans of their royal father. I am
the subject that have killed my prince, I am the wife that have
murdered my husband, I am a degenerate woman, an undoer
of this country, a shame of my children." With that she
crossed her arms and sat down upon the ground, attending
the judge's answer.
But Euarchus having well considered the abomination
of the fact, attending more the manifest proof of so hor-
rible a trespass, confessed by herself and proved by others,
than anything relenting to those tragical phrases of hers,
apter to stir a vulgar pity than his mind, which hated evil
in what colours soever he found it, having considered a
while with the principal men of the country, and demanded
their allowance, he definitively gave this sentence : That
whereas, both in private and public respects, this woman
had most heinously offended — in private, because marriage
being the most holy conjunction that falls to mankind, which
whoso breaks dissolves all humanity, no man living free from
the danger of so near a neighbour, she had not only broken
it, but broken it with death, and the most pretended* death
that might be ; in pubHc respect, the princes' persons being
in all monarchal governments the very knot of the people's
welfare and light of all her doings, to which they are not only
* Pretended — Intended or decided. This sense of using the word
" pretend " is to be met with in many of our old dramatic authors.
" I'll give her father notice
Of their disguising and /rd'/tvz^/tv/ flight."
— Two Gentlemen of Verona, act ii. sc. 6.
ARCADIA.— Book V, 461
in conscience but in necessity bound to be loyal, she had
traitorously empoisoned him, neither regarding her country's
profit, her own duty, nor the rigour of the laws : that there-
fore, as well for the due satisfaction to eternal justice and
accomplishment of the Arcadian statutes, as for the everlast-
ing example to all wives and subjects, she should presently be
conveyed to close prison, and there kept with such food as
might serve to sustain her alive until the day of her husband's
burial, at which time she should be buried quick* in the same
tomb with him, that so his murder might be a murder to
herself, and she forced to keep company with the body from
which she had made so detestable a severance, and lastly
death might redress their disjoined conjunction of marriage.
His judgment was received of the whole assembly, as not
with disliking, so with great astonishment, the greatness of
the matter and person as it were overpressing the might of
their conceits. But, when they did set it to the beam with the
monstrousness of her ugly misdeed, they could not but yield
in their hearts there was no overbalancing. As for Gynecia,
who had already settled her thoughts not only to look but
long for this event, having in this time of her vexation found
a sweetness in the rest she hoped by death, with a coun-
tenance witnessing she had beforehand so passed through all
the degrees of sorrow that she had no new look to figure
forth any more, rose up, and offered forth her fair hands to
be bound or led as they would, being indeed troubled with no
part of this judgment, but that her death was as she thought
long delayed. They that were appointed for it conveyed her
to the place she was in before, where the guard was relieved,
and the number increased to keep her more sure for the time
of her execution.
Then did Euarchus ask Philanax whether it were he that
* Buried quick — See note, p. 420.
462 ARCADIA.— Book F.
would charge the two young prisoners, or that some other
should do it, and he sit according to his estate as an assistant
in the judgment. Philanax told him, as before he had done,
that he thought no man could lay manifest the naughtiness
of those two young men with so much either truth or zeal as
himself, and therefore he desired he might do this last service
to his faithfully-beloved master as to prosecute the traitorous
causers of his death and dishonour. Philanax thus being
ready to speak, the two princes were commanded to tell
their names, who answered, according to their agreements,
that they were Daiphantus of Lycia and Palladius, Prince
of Iberia ; which when they had said, they demanded to
know by what authority they could judge of them, since
they were not only foreigners, and so not born under their
laws, but absolute princes, and therefore not to be touched
by laws. But answer was presently made them that Arcadian,
laws were to have their force upon any were found in Arcadia,
since strangers have scope to know the customs of a country
before they put themselves in it, and when they once are
entered they must know that what by many was made must
not for one be broken ; and so much less for a stranger, as
he is to look for no privilege in that place to which in time of
need his service is not to be expected. As for their being
princes, whether they were so or no, the belief stood in their
own words, which they had so diversely falsified as they did
not deserve belief ; but, whatsoever they were, Arcadia was to
acknowledge them but as private men, since they were neither
by magistracy nor alliance to the princely blood to claim any-
thing in that region ; therefore, if they had offended, which
now by the plaintiff and their defence was to be judged,
against the laws of nations, by the laws of nations they were
to be chastised ; if against the peculiar ordinances of the
province, those peculiar ordinances were to lay hold of them.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 463
The princes stood a while upon that, demanding leisure to
give perfect knowledge of their greatness ; but when they
were answered that in a case of a prince's death the law of
that country had ever been that immediate trial should be
had, they were forced to yield, resolved that in those names
they would as much as they could cover the shame of their
royal parentage, and keep as long as might be, if evil were
determined against them, the evil news from their careful
kinsfolk.
Thus both sides ready, it was determined, because their
cases were separated, first Philanax should be heard against
Pyrocles, whom they termed Daiphantus, and that heard, the
other's cause should follow, and so receive together such
judgment as they should be found to have deserved. But
Philanax, that was even short-breathed at the first with the
extreme vehemency he had to speak against them, stroking
once or twice his forehead and wiping his eyes, which either
wept or he would at that time have them seem to weep, look-
ing first upon Pyrocles as if he had proclaimed ail hatefulness
against him, humbly turning to Euarchus, who with quiet
gravity showed great attention, he thus began his oration :
"That which all men, excellent protector, in accusing
another, most desire, manifold proofs of their wickedness,
most cumbers me. For this man, whom to begin withal I
know not how to name, hath come into this country like a
lost pilgrim, from a man grew to a woman, from a woman a
ravisher of women, thence a prisoner, now a prince. But this
Zelmane, this Daiphantus, this what you will, hath no restraint
of shame. Nay, what is to be thought of two such virtuous
creatures, whereof the one hath confessed murder, the other
rape, I leave to your wise consideration. I hasten to the
piteous murder of Basilius, for the compassing of which this
young nymph of Diana's bringing up feigned certain pretended
464 ARCADIA.— Book V.
rites, and having trained* Basilius to a cave to witness
them, in the meantime this Amazon hath gotten into the
chamber of the lady Philoclea, leaving Gynecia, a woman
witty though wicked, to attempt the king. We will leave her
to her punishment, and regard him, upon whom, O excellent
protector, pronounce judgment. For he far passes the arrant-
est strumpet in luxuriousness, the cunningest forger in false-
hood, a player in disguising, a tiger in cruelty, a dragon in
ingratefulness. Let us punish his hellish naughtiness, bring
back our prince by seeing his killers die, restore the excellent
Philoclea her honour by taking out of the world her dishonour.
Alas ! though I have much more to say, I can say no more ;
my tears and sighs interrupt my speech, and force me to give
myself over to my private sorrow."
Thus when Philanax had uttered the uttermost of his malice,
he made sorrow the cause of his conclusion. But, while Phila-
nax was in the course of his speech, and did with such bitter
reproaches defame the princely Pyrocles, it was well to be seen
his heart was unused to bear such injuries, and his thoughts
such as could arm themselves better against anything than
shame. For, sometimes blushing, his blood with divers
motions coming and going, sometimes closing his eyes and
laying his hand over them, sometimes giving such a look to
Philanax as might show he assured himself he durst not so
have spoken if they had been in an indifferent place, with
some impatiency he bare the length of his oration, which
being ended, with as much modest humbleness to the judge
as despiteful scorn to the accuser, with words to the purpose
he thus defended his honour :
" My accusers tale," said he, " shows in how hard a case
and how environed with many troubles I am. He has
mingled truth with falsehoods, surmises with certainties,
* Trained — Dragged, entrapped, drawn by false pretences.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 465
causes of no moment with matters capital." Then he told
his judge how he and Palladius, inflamed with love for the
peerless daughters of Basihus, had disguised themselves, how
Basihus, deceived in his sex, had plagued him with impor-
tunacy, how he had persuaded Gynecia the queen to take
his place, and had endeavoured to make Philoclea fly with
him, and how indeed he was guiltless of any horrible crime.
" If," said he, " in so inhuman a matter there remain any
doubt of it, I desire I may be granted the trial by combat.
Only I will not deny, nor ever will deny, the love of Philoclea,
whose violence wrought violent effects in me."
With that he finished his speech, casting up his eyes to
the judge, and crossing his hands, which he held in their
length before him, declaring a resolute patience in whatso-
ever should be done with him. Philanax, like a watchful ad-
versary, curiously marked all that he said, saving that in the
beginning he was interrupted by two letters were brought
him from the Princess Pamela and the lady Philoclea, who
having all that night considered and bewailed their estate,
careful for their mother likewise, of whom they could never
think so much evil, but considering with themselves that she
assuredly should have so due trial by the laws as either she
should not need their help or should be past their help, they
looked to that which nearliest touched them, and each wrote
in her own sort for him in whom their lives' joy consisted.
But Philanax, utterly suppressing them, sent a spiteful care to
Pyrocles, and, as soon as he had ended, with a very willing
heart, desired Euarchus he might accept the combat, although
it would have framed but evil with him, Pyrocles having
never found any match near him besides Musidorus. But
Euarchus made answer that bodily strength should not be
made judge over reason. Then would he also have replied
in words unto him, but Euarchus, who knew what they could
H H
466 ARCADIA.— Book V.
say was already said, taking their arguments into his mind,
commanded Philanax to proceed against the other prisoner,
and that then he would sentence them both together.
Philanax, nothing the milder for Pyrocles purging himself,
but rather, according to the nature of arguing, especially
when it is bitter, so much more vehement, entered into his
speech against Musidorus, being so overgone with rage that
he forgat in his oration his precise method of oratory. Musi-
dorus, while Philanax was speaking against his cousin and
him, had looked round about him, to see whether by any
means he might come to have caught him in his arms
and have killed him, so much had his disgracing words filled
his breast with rage. But perceiving himself so guarded as
he should rather show a passionate act than perform his re-
venge, his hand trembling with desire to strike, and all the
veins in his face swelling, casting his eyes over the judgment
seat : '' O gods," said he, " and have you spared my life to
bear these injuries of such a drivel ! Is this the justice of
this place, to have such men as we are submitted not only to
apparent falsehood, but most shameful reviling. But mark,
I pray you, the ungratefulness of the wretch, how utterly he
hath forgotten the benefits both he and all this country hath
received of us. For if ever men may remember their own
noble deeds, it is then when their just defence and other's
unjust unkindness doth require it. I omit our services done
to BasiHus in the late war with Amphialus, importing no less
than his daughters' lives and his state's preservation. Were
not we the men that killed the wild beasts which otherwise
had killed the princesses if we had not succoured them ?
Consider, if it please you, where had been Daiphantus' rape,
or my treason, if the sweet beauties of the earth had then been
devoured ? Either think them now dead, or remember they
live by us. And yet full often this tell-tale can acknowledge
ARCADIA.— Book V. 467
the loss they should have by their taking away, while mali-
ciously he overpasseth who were their preservers. Neither
let this be spoken of me, as if I meant to balance this evil
with that good — for I must confess that saving of such crea-
tures was rewarded in the act itself — but only to manifest the
partial jangling of this vile pickthank."
While this matter was thus handling, a silent and, as it
were, astonished attention possessed all the people. A kindly
compassion moved the noble gentleman Sympathus, but as
for Kalander, everything was spoken either by or for his own
dear guests moved an effect in him ; sometimes tears, some-
times hopeful looks, sometimes whispering persuasions in
their ears that stood by him to seek the saving the two young
princes. But the general multitude waited the judgment of
Euarchus, who showed in his face no motions, either at the
one's or other's speech, letting pass the flowers of rhetoric and
only marking whither their reasons tended ; having made the
question to be asked of Gynecia, who continued to take the
whole fault upon herself, and having called Dametas, with
Miso and Mopsa, who by Philanax's order had been held in
most cruel prison, to make a full declaration, how much they
knew of these past matters, and then gathering as assured
satisfaction to his own mind as in that case he could, not
needing to take leisure for that whereof a long practice had
bred a well-grounded habit in him, with a voice and gesture
directed to the universal assembly, he pronounced sentence :
" I do, in the behalf of justice, and by the force of Arcadian
laws, pronounce that Daiphantus shall be thrown out of a
high tower to receive his death by his fall. Palladius shall
be beheaded : the time, before the sun set : the place, in Man-
tinea : the executioner, Dametas ; which office he shall ex-
ecute all the days of his life, for his beastly forgetting the
careful duty he owed to his charge."
H H 2
468 ARCADIA.— Book V.
This said, he turned himself to Philanax and two of the
other noblemen, commanding them to see the judgment pre-
sently performed. Philanax, more greedy than any hunter of
his prey, went straight to lay hold of the excellent prisoners,
who, casting a farewell look one upon the other, represented
in their faces as much unappalled constancy as the most ex-
cellent courage can deliver in outward graces. Yet, if at all
there were any show of change in them, it was that Pyrocles
was somewhat nearer to a bashfulness, and Musidorus to
anger, both overruled by reason and resolution. But as,
with great number of armed men, Philanax was descend-
ing unto them, and that Musidorus was beginning to say
something in Pyrocles' behalf, behold Kalander, that with
arms cast abroad and open moutli came crying to Euar-
chus, holding a stranger in his hand that cried much
more than he, desiring they might be heard speak before
the prisoners were removed ; even the noble gentleman Sym-
pathus aided them in it, and, taking such as he could com-
mand, stopped Philanax, betwixt entreaty and force, from
carrying away the princes, until it were heard what new
matters these men did bring. So again mounting to the
tribunal, they hearkened to the stranger's vehement speech,
or rather appassionate* exclaiming.
It was indeed Kalodulus, the faithful friend of Musidorus,
to whom his master, when, in despite of his best grounded
determinations, he first became a slave to affection, had sent
the shepherd Menalcas to be arrested, by the help of whose
raiment in the meantime he advanced himself to that estate
which he accounted most high, because it might be service-
able to that fancy which he had placed most high in his mind.
* Appassionate — Obstinately steadfast. ' ' Gower remained appas-
sionated in the opinion of the Pope's supremacy." — Letter in Strype's
Annals, iii. 135.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 469
For Menalcas, having faithfully performed his errand, was as
faithfully imprisoned by Kalodulus. But as Kalodulus per-
formed the first part of his duty in do.ing the commandment
of the prince, so was he with abundance of sincere loyalty
extremely perplexed when he understood of Menalcas the
strange disguising of his beloved master. For, as the acts he
and his cousin Pyrocles had done in Asia had filled all the
ears of the Thessalians and Macedonians with no less joy
than admiration, so was the fear of their loss no less grievous
unto them, when by the noise of report they understood of
their lonely committing themselves to the sea, the issue of
which they had no way learned. But now that by Menalcas
he perceived where he was, guessing the like of Pyrocles,
comparing the unusedness of this act with the unripeness of
their age, seeing in general conjecture they could do it for
nothing that might not fall out dangerous, he was some-
while troubled with himself what to do, betwixt doubt of
their hurt and doubt of their displeasure. Often he was
minded, as his safest and honestest way, to reveal it to the
king Euarchus, that both his authority might prevent any
damage to them, and under his wings he himself might remain
safe. But, considering a journey to Byzantium, whereas yet
he supposed Euarchus lay, would require more time than
he was willing to remain doubtful of his prince's estate,
he resolved at length to write the matter to Euarchus, and
himself the while to go into Arcadia, uncertain what to do
when he came thither, but determined to do his best service
to his dear master, if by any good fortune he might find him.
And so it happened that, being even this day come to Man-
tinea, and as warily and attentively as he could giving ear to
all reports, in hope to hear something of them he sought, he
straight received a strange rumour of these things, but so un-
certainly as popular reports carry so rare accidents. But
470 ARCADIA.— Book V.
this by all men he was willed, to seek out Kalander, a great
gentleman of that country, Avho would soonest satisfy him of all
occurrents.* Thus instructed he came, even about the midst
of Euarchus' judgment, to the desert, where, seeing great
multitudes, and hearing unknown names of Palladius and
Daiphantus, and not able to press to the place where Euar-
chus sate, he inquired for Kalander, and was soon brought
unto him, partly because he was generally known unto all
men, and partly because he had withdrawn himself from the
press, when he perceived by Euarchus' words whither they
tended, being not able to endure his guests' condemnation.
He requireth forthwith of Kalander the cause of the assembly,
and whether the same were true of Euarchus' presence, who
with many tears made a doubtful recital unto him, both of
the Amazon and shepherd, setting forth their natural graces,
and lamenting their pitiful undoing. But this description
made Kalodulus immediately know the shepherd was his
duke ; and so judging the other to be Pyrocles, and speedily
communicating it to Kalander, who he saw did favour their
case, they brake the press with astonishing every man with
their cries. And being come to Euarchus, Kalodulus fell at
his feet, telling him those he had judged were his own son
and nephew, the one the comfort of Macedon, the other
the only stay of Thessalia. With many such like words,
but as from a man that assured himself in that matter
he should need small speech, while Kalander made it known
to all men what the prisoners were, to whom he cried they
should salute their father, and joy in the good hap the gods
had sent them ; who were no less glad than all the people
amazed at the strange event of these matters. Even Phila-
nax's own revengeful heart was mollified when he saw from
divers parts of the world so near kinsmen should meet in such
* Occur rents — i.e.^ all that had happened.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 471
a necessity. And withal the fame of Pyrocles and Musi-
dorus greatly drew him to a compassionate conceit, and had
already unclothed his face of all show of malice.
ButEuarchus stayed agood while upon himself, like a valiant
man that should receive a notable encounter, being vehe-
mently stricken with the fatherly love of so excellent children,
and studying with his best reason what his office required.
At length, with such a kind of gravity as was near to sorrow,
he thus uttered his mind : " I take witness of the immortal
gods," said he, " O Arcadians, that what this day I have said
hath been out of my assured persuasion what justice itself and
your just laws require. Though strangers then to me, I had
no desire to hurt them, but, leaving aside all considerations
of the persons, I weighed the matter which you committed
into my hands with my most unpartial and farthest reach of
reason, and thereout have condemned them to lose their
lives, contaminated with so many foul breaches of hospitality,
civility, and virtue. Now, contrary to all expectations, I find
them to be my only son and nephew, such upon whom you
see what gifts nature hath bestowed ; such who have so to the
wonder of the world heretofore behaved themselves as might
give just cause to the greatest hopes that in an excellent
youth may be conceived ; lastly, in few words, such in whom
I placed all my mortal joys, and thought myself, now near
my grave, to recover a new life. But, alas ! shall justice halt,
or shall she wink in one's cause that had lynx's eyes in
another's, or rather shall all private respects give place to
that holy name ? Be it so, be it so ; let my gray hairs be laid
in the dust with sorrow, let the small remnant of my life be
to me an inward and outward desolation, and to the world a
gazing-stock of wretched misery ; but never, never let sacred
rightfulness fall : it is immortal, and immortality ought to be
preserved. If rightly I have judged, then rightly I have
472 ARCADIA.— Book V.
judged mine own children — unless the name of a child should
have force to change the never-changing justice. No, no,
Pyrocles and Musidorus, I prefer you much before my life,
but I prefer justice as far before you. While you did like
yourselves, my body should willingly have been your shield,
but I cannot keep you from the effects of your own doing ;
nay, I cannot in this case acknowledge you for mine, for
never had I shepherd to my nephew, nor ever had woman to
my son. Your vices have degraded you from being princes,
and have disannulled your birthright. Therefore, if there
be anything left in you of princely virtue, show it in constant
suffering that your unprincely dealing hath purchased unto
you. For my part, I must tell you you have forced a father
to rob himself of his children. Uo you therefore, O Philanax,
and you my other lords of this country, see the judgment
be rightly performed in time, place, and manner as before
appointed."
With that, though he would have refrained them, a man
might perceive the tears drop down his long white beard,
which moved not only Kalodulus and Kalander to roaring
lamentations, but all the assembly dolefully to record that
pitiful spectacle. Philanax himself could not abstain from
great shows of pitying sorrow, and manifest withdrawing
from performing the king's commandment.
But, as this pitiful matter was entering into, those that
were next the duke's* body might hear from under the velvet
wherewith he was covered a great voice of groaning, whereat
every man astonished, and their spirits appalled with these
former miseries, apt to take any strange conceit, when they
might perfectly perceive the body stir, then some began to
* Duke, here, means the king — dux, reigning sovereign. The
word is constantly so used by Shakespeare.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 473
fear spirits, some to look for a miracle, most to imagine they
knew not what. But Philanax and Kalander, whose eyes
honest love, though to divers parties, held most attentive,
leaped to the table, and putting off the velvet cover, might
discern, with as much wonder as gladness, that the duke
lived. For so it was that the drink he received was neither,
as Gynecia first imagined, a love potion, nor, as it was after
thought, a deadly poison, but a drink made by notable art,
and, as it was thought, not without natural magic, to procure
for thirty hours such a deadly sleep as should oppress all
show of life.
The cause of the making of this drink had first been, that
a princess of Cyprus, grandmother to Gynecia, being not-
ably learned, and yet not able with all her learning to answer
the objections of Cupid, did furiously love a young noble-
man of her father's court, who fearing the king's rage,
and not once daring either to attempt or accept so high a
place, she made that sleeping drink, and found means by a
trusty servant of hers, who of purpose invited him to his
chamber, to procure him, that suspected no such thing, to
receive 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 provided for this enterprise, where
that space of time pleased herself with seeing and cherishing
of him, when the time came of the drink's end of working,
and he more astonished than if he had fallen from the clouds,
she bade him choose either then to marry her, and to pro-
mise to fly away with her in a bark she had made ready, or
else she would presently cry out, and show in what place he
was, with oath he was come thither to ravish her. The no-
bleman in these straits, her beauty prevailed ; he married her,
and escaped the realm with her, and after many strange
adventures were reconciled to the king her father, after whose
474 ARCADIA.— Book V,
death they reigned. But she, gratefully remembering the
service that drink had done her, preserved in a bottle, made
by singular art long to keep it without perishing, great quan-
tity of it, with the foretold inscription, which, wrongly inter-
preted by her daughter-in-law the queen of Cyprus, was
given by her to Gynecia at the time of her marriage, and
the drink, finding an old body of Basilius, had kept him
some hours longer in the trance than it would have done a
younger.
But a while it was before good Basihus could come again
to himself, in which time Euarchus, more glad than of the
whole world's monarchy to be rid of his miserable magis-
tracy, which even in justice he was now to surrender to the
lawful prince of that country, came from the throne unto him,
and there with much ado made him understand how these
intricate matters had fallen out. Many garboils* passed
through his fancy before he could be persuaded Zelmane was
other than a woman. At length remembering the oracle,
which now indeed was accomplished, not as before he had
imagined, considering all had fallen out by the highest provi-
dence, and withal weighing in all these matters his own fault
had been the greatest, the first thing he did was with all
honourable pomp to send for Gynecia, who, poor lady, thought
she was leading forth to her living burial, and when she came
to recount before all the people the excellent virtue was in
her, which she had not only maintained all her life most un-
spotted, but now was content so miserably to die, to follow
her husband. He told them how she had warned him to
take heed of that drink ; and so with all the exaltings of her
that might be, publicly desired her pardon for those errors
* Garhoils — Fr. garbouille — uproav; here meaning mental confusion
and commotion.
ARCADIA.— Book V. 475
he had committed, and so kissing her, left her to receive the
most honourable fame of any princess throughout the world,
all men thinking, saving only Pyrocles and Philoclea, who
never betrayed her, that she was the perfect mirror of all
wifely love. Which though in that point undeserved, she did
in the remnant of her life duly purchase, with observing all
duty and faith to the example and glory of Greece ; so un-
certain are mortal judgments, the same person most infamous,
and most famous, and neither justly.
Then with princely entertainment to Euarchus, and many
kind words to Pyrocles, whom still he dearly loved, though
in a more virtuous kind, the marriage was concluded, to the
inestimable joy of Euarchus, betwixt the peerless princes and
princesses, Philanax for his singular faith ever held dear of
Basihus while he lived, and no less of Musidorus, who was to
inherit that kingdom, and therein confirmed to him and his
the second place of that province, with great increase of his
living to maintain it. Which like proportion he used to Kalo-
dulus in Thessalia ; highly honouring Kalander while he
lived, and after his death continuing in the same measure to
love and advance his son Clitophon. But as for Sympathus,
Pyrocles, to whom his father in his own time gave the whole
kingdom of Thrace, held him always about him, giving him
in pure gift the great city of Abdera.
But the solemnities of these marriages, with the Arcadian
pastorals, full of many comical adventures happening to those
rural lovers ; the strange stories of Artaxia and Plexirtus,
Erona and Plangus, Helen and Amphialus, with the won-
derful chances that befel them ; the shepherdish loves of
Menalcas with Kalodulus' daughter ; the poor hopes of the
poor Philisides in the pursuit of his affections ; the strange
continuance of Klaius and Strephon's desire ; lastly, the
son of Pyrocles, named Pyrophilus, and Melidora, the fair
476
ARCADIA.— Book V.
daughter of Pamela by jMusidorus, who even at their
birth entered into admirable fortunes, may awake some
other spirit to exercise his pen* in that wherewith mine
is already dulled.
* Exercise his pen — This is all that Sidney wrote ; and here the
romance properly ends. But, although the preface of the original
says that " S'^ Philip Sidneie's writings can no more bee perfected
without S"" Philip Sidneie than Apelles' picture without Apelles,
although there are those that think otherwise, for never was Arcadia
free from the comber of such cattel," Mr. R(i chard) B(eling) did add
"a limn to Apelles' picture" in a sixth book, on which the author's
modest preface shall prevent us passing an opinion. Mr. Beling,
who was a young gentleman of Lincoln's Inn, says that he does not
follow " Pythagoras his opinion," and that he is "well assured that
the divine Sidney's soul is not infused into him " — nor indeed was
his art, his matter, or manner, of v/hich he has caught but a faint
echo.
The End.
"WILLIAM STEVEKS, PBIKTEB, 37, BELL YAED, TEMPLE BAB.
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