In these pastorall pastimes a great number of daies were sent to follow their flying predecessours, while the cup of poison (which was deepely tasted of this noble companie) had left no sinewe of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet neuer manifesting his venomous work, til once; that the night (parting away angry, that she could distill no more sleepe into the eies of louers) had no sooner giuen place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sunne bestowed his beames vpon the tops of the mountaines, but that the woefull Gynecia (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten her selfe into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going vp and downe with such vnquiet motions, as a grieued and hopeles minde is wont to bring forth. There appeered vnto the eies of her iudgement the euils she was like to run into, with ougly infamie waiting vpon them: shee felt the terrors of her owne conscience: shee was guilty of a long exercised vertue, which made this vice the fuller of deformitie. The vttermost of the good she could aspire vnto, was a mortal woud to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her euils was, that she was wise to see her euils. In so much, that hauing a great while throwne her countenaunce ghastly about her (as if shee had called all the powers of the world to be witnesse of her wretched estate) at length casting vp her watrie eyes to heaue, O Sunne (said she) whose vnspotted light directs the steps of mortall mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearnesse of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worme as I am? O you heauens (which continually keepe the course allotted vnto you) can none of your influences preuaile so much vpon the miserable Gynecia, as to make her preserue a course so long imbraced by her? O deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my hart can people you with wild rauenous beastes, which in you are wanting? O Vertue, where doost thou hide thy selfe? What hideous thinge is this which doeth Eclips thee? Or is it true that thou weart neuer but a vaine name, and no essentiall thing, which hast thus left thy professed seruant, when she had most need of thy louely presence? O imperfect proportio of reason, which can too much foresee, & too little preuent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my paines, or but one excuse for all my faultinesse. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, and my euill deseruing doth exceed my euill fortune. For nothing els did my husband take this straunge resolution to liue so solitarily: for nothing els haue the windes deliuered this straunge guest to my country: for nothing els haue the destinies reserued my life to this time, but that onely I (most wretched I) should become a plague to my selfe, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how vniust so euer it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths folowed it, and euery death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my sepulcher receiue mee without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answer my loue; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretaken coceipt. And then, wretched Gynecia, where canst thou find any small ground plot for hope to dwel vpon? No, no, it is Philoclea his hart is sett vpo: it is my daughter I haue borne to supplant me. But if it bee so, the life I haue giuen thee (vngratefull Philoclea) I will sooner with these handes bereaue thee of, then my birth shall glory, she hath bereaued me of my desires. In shame there is no comfort, but to bee beyond all bounds of shame.
Hauing spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war with hir faire haire, when she might heare (not far fro her) an extremely dolefull voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceaue the wordes distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest musicke to a wofull mind) shee drewe thether neere-away, in hope to find some companio of her misery. And as she paced on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraide shee should (with rushing thorow) stop the speach of the lamentable partie, which shee was so desirous to vnderstand. And therefore setting her downe as softlie as she could (for she was now in distaunce to heare) she might first perceaue a Lute excellentlie well played vppon, and then the same dolefull voyce accompanyinge it with these verses.
In vaine, mine Eyes, you labour to amende
With flowing teares your fault of hasty sight:
Since to my hart her shape you so did sende;
That her I see, though you did lose your light. In vaine, my Hart, now you with sight are burnd,
With sighes you seeke to coole your hotte desire:
Since sighes (into mine inward fornace turnd)
For bellowes serue to kindle more the fire. Reason, in vaine (now you haue lost my hart)
My head you seeke, as to your strongest forte:
Since there mine eyes haue played so false a parte,
That to your strength your foes haue sure resorte.
Then since in vaine I find were all my strife,
To this strange death I vainely yeeld my life.
The ending of the song serued but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heauy a burthe of cares) was faine to discharge it self of al sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the paine in all sortes of coulours. For the wofull person (as if the lute had euill ioined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poore Lute, how much art thou deceiu’d to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careles times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my ioyfull minde then receiue euery thing to aioyful consideration, then my carefull mind now makes ech thing tast like the bitter iuyce of care. The evill is inward, my Lute, the euill is inward; which all thou doost, doth serue but to make methinke more freely off. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweete meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agree to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leaue thy master, since hee is not afraide to forsake himselfe.
And thus much spoke (in steede of a conclusion) was closed vp with so harty a groning, that Gynecia could not refraine to shew her selfe, thinking such griefes could serue fitly for nothing, but her owne fortune. But as she came into the little Arbour of this sorrowful musicke, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indited her selfe of miserie: so that either of them remained cofused with a sodaine astonishment. Zelmane fearing, least she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had risen vp that morning early of purpose, to breath out in secret to her selfe. But Gynecia a great while stood still, with a kind of dull amasement, looking stedfastly vpon her: at length returning to some vse of her selfe, she began to aske Zelmane, what cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great flood gate of sorrow (whereof her heart could not abide the violet issue) she sanke to the ground, with her hads ouer her face crying vehemently, Zelmane helpe me, O Zelmane haue pittie on me. Zelmane ranne to her, maruelling what sodaine sicknesse had thus possessed her: & beginning to aske her the cause of her paine, & offering her seruice to be imployed by her: Gynecia opening her eyes wildly vpon her, pricked with the flames of loue, & the torments of her owne conscience; O Zelmane, Zelmane , (said she) doost thou offer me phisicke, which art my only poyson? Or wilt thou doo me seruice, which hast alredy brought me into eternall slauerie? Zelmane then knowing well at what marke shee shot, yet loth to enter into it; Most excellet Ladie (said she) you were best retire your selfe into your lodging, that you the better may passe this sodaine fitte. Retire my selfe? (said Gynecia) If I had retyred my selfe into my selfe, when thou to me (vnfortunate guest) camest to draw me from my selfe; blessed had I bene, & no neede had I had of this counsaile. But now alas, I am forced to flie to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; & make thee iudge of my cause, who art the only author of my mischiefe Zelmane the more astonished, the more she vnderstood her; Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not cleere my selfe? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynecia, what shall I say more? Take pitty of me, O Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou doost in apparell.
Zelmane was much troubled with that worde, finding her selfe brought to this streight. But as she was thinking what to answere her; they might see olde Basilius passe harde by them, without euer seeing them: complayning likewise of loue very freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Loue hauing renewed both his inuention, and voyce.
Let not old age disgrace my high desire,
O heauenly soule, in humaine shape conteind:
Old wood in flam’de, doth yeeld the brauest fire,
When yonger dooth in smoke his vertue spend. Ne let white haires, which on my face doo grow,
Seeme to your eyes of a disgracefull hewe:
Since whitenesse doth present the sweetest show,
Which makes all eyes doo homage vnto you. Old age is wise and full of constant truth;
Old age well stayed from raunging humor liues:
Old age hath knowne what euer was in youth:
Old age orecome, the greater honour giues.
And to old age since you your selfe aspire,
Let not old age disgrace my high desire.
Which being done, he looked verie curiously vpon himselfe, somtimes fetching a little skippe, as if he had saide, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane hauing in this time gotten some leasure to thinke for an answere; looking vpon Gynecya, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a partie with whom it is to bee vsed. If my seruice may please you, imploy it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of mee. Alas Zelmane (said Gynecia) I perceiue you know full little, howe percing the eyes are of a true louer. There is no one beame of those thoughts you haue planted in me, but is able to discerne a greater cloude then you doo goe in. Seeke not to conceale your selfe further from mee, nor force not the passion of loue into violent extremities. Nowe was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that waye thorow the trees, perceiued his wife and mistres togither: so that framing the most louely countenance hee could, hee came straightway towardes them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for hauing entertained Zelmane,) desired her shee woulde now returne into the lodge, because hee had certaine matters of estate to impart to the Ladie Zelmane. The Queene (being nothing troubled with ielousie in that point) obeyed the kinges commaundement; full of raging agonies and determinately bent, that as she would seeke all louing meanes to winne Zelmane, so she woulde stirre vp terrible tragedies, rather then saile of her intent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battaile in her thoughts, and so deadly an ouerthrow giuen to her best resolutions, that euen her bodie (where the fielde was fought) was oppressed withall: making a languishing sickenesse waite vpon the triumph of passion; which the more it preuailed in her, the more it made her ielousie watchfull, both ouer her daughter, and Zelmane; hauing euer one of them entrusted to her owne eyes.
But as soone as Basilius was ridde of his wiues presence, falling downe on his knees, O Lady (saide hee) which hast onely had the power to stirre vp againe those flames which had so long layne deade in mee; see in mee the power of your beautie, which can make olde age come to aske counsaile of youth; and a Prince vnconquered, to become a slaue to a stranger. And when you see that power of yours, loue that at lest in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loued. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him vp from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so straunge vnto me, as I know not how to answere it better then with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shall neuer displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe mine eares such happinesse, as to heare you, they shall conuay your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reuerence to receiue them. I disdaine not to speake to you (mightie Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdaine to speake to any matter which may bring my honor into question. And therewith, with a braue counterfeited scorne she departed from the king; leauing him not so sorie for his short answere, as proud in himselfe that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his minde with those thoughts) passe great time in writing verses, and making more of himselfe, then he was wont to doo: that with a little helpe, he would haue growne into a prettie kind of dotage.
But Zelmane being ridde of this louing, but little-loued company, Alas (said she) poore Pyrocles, was there euer one, but I, that had receiued wrong, and could blame no body? that hauing more then I desire, am still in want of that I woulde? Truly Loue, I must needes say thus much on thy behalfe; thou hast imployed my loue there, where all loue is deserued; and for recompence hast sent me more loue then euer I desired. But what wilt thou doo Pyrocles? which way canst thou finde to ridde thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be knowne to, I liue in darkenesse: and to her am reuealed, from whom I would be most secret. What shift shall I finde against the diligent loue of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the neerer to quench the fire that consumes me? Well, well, sweete Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy diuine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruell wound I haue receiued by you.
But as sicke folkes, when they are alone, thinke companie would relieue them, and yet hauing company do find it noysome; changing willingly outward obiects, when indeed the euill is inward: So poore Zelmane was no more weery of Basilius, then she was of her selfe, when Basilius was gone: and euer the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her owne iudges. Tyred wherewith, she longed to meete her friende Dorus; that vpon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burthen of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certaine Beeches she found Dorus , apparelled in flanen, with a Goats skin cast vpon him, and a garland of Laurell mixt with Cypres leaues on his head, wayting on his master Dametas, who at that time was teaching him how with his sheephooke to catch a wanton Lambe, and how with the same to cast a litle clod at any one that strayed out of companie. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dametas holding his hand vnder his girdle behind him, nodding from the wast vpwards, and swearing he neuer knew man go more aukewardly to worke: and that they might talke of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he neuer saw more vnfeatie fellowes, then great clearks were.
But Zelmanes comming saued Dorus from further chiding. And so she beginning to speake with him of the number of his masters sheepe, and which Prouince of Arcadia bare the finest wooll, drewe him on to follow her in such countrie discourses, till (being out of Dametas hearing) with such vehemencie of passion, as though her hart would clime into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared vnto him, vpon what briers the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one houre of comfort vpon her; she remaining stil in one plight of ill fortune, sauing so much worse, as continuance of euill doth in it selfe increase euill. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou seest how long and languishingly the weekes are past ouer vs since our last talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: onely stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Then fell she to so pitifull a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus eares (not able to shew what woundes that discourse gaue vnto them) procured his eyes with teares to giue testimonie, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to it selfe) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it off) earnestly intreate Dorus, that he also (with like freedome of discourse) would bestow a Mappe of his little world, vpon her; that she might see, whether it were troubled with such vnhabitable climes of colde despaires, and hot rages, as hers was. And so walking vnder a few Palmetrees, (which being louing in their own nature, seemed to giue their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of loue) Dorus thus entred to the description of his fortune. Alas (said he) deare Cosin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throw vs to such an estate, as the onely entercourse of our true friendship, must be a bartring of miseries. For my part, I must confesse indeede, that from a huge darkenes of sorrowes, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomnes, but) to a certaine dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibilitie of comfort: But woe is me, so farre from the marke of my desires, that I rather thinke it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitife may the better remember the light, of which he is depriued: or like a scholler, who is onely come to that degree of knowledge, to finde himselfe vtterly ignorant. But thus stands it with me: After that by your meanes I was exalted to serue in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the seruice I had done in killing of the Beare) it pleased the Princesse (in whome indeede statelines shines through courtesie) to let fall some gratious looke vpon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to heare my songs. For my part, my hart would not suffer me to omit any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinarie deuotion I bare to her seruice: and withall, straue to appeare more worthy in her sight; that small desert, ioyned to so great affection, might preuaile something in the wisest Ladie. But too well (alas) I found, that a shepheards seruice was but considered of as from a shepheard, and the acceptation limitted to no further proportion, then of a good seruant. And when my countenance had once giuen notice, that there lay affection vnder it, I sawe straight, Maiesty (sitting in the throne of Beautie) drawe foorth such a sword of iust disdaine, that I remayned as a man thunder-striken; not daring, no not able, to behold that power. Now, to make my estate knowen, seemed againe impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dametas, Miso, and my young Mistresse, Mopsa. For, Dametas (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinkes no better way to shew himselfe wise, then by suspecting euery thing in his way. Which suspition Miso (for the hoggish shrewdnesse of her braine) and Mopsa (for a very vnlikely enuie she hath stumbled vpon, against the Princesses vnspeakeable beautie) were very glad to execute. So that I (finding my seruice by this meanes lightlie regarded, my affection despised, and my selfe vnknowen) remayned no fuller of desire, then voyd of counsell how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speake, they might well witnesse. For, many times haue I stoode here, bewailing my selfe vnto them: many times haue I, leaning to yonder Palme, admired the blessednes of it, that it could beare Loue without sence of paine. Many times, when my masters cattle came hether to chewe their cudde, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testifie his loue. But how? with proud lookes, and ioyfulnes. O wretched mankind (said I then to my selfe) in whom wit (which should be the gouerner of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessednes. These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are layd abroad, euen as foundlings to be trayned vp by griefe and sorrow. Their mindes grudge not at their bodies comfort, nor their sences are letted from enioying their obiects: we haue the impediments of honor, and the torments of conscience. Truely in such cogitations haue I somtimes so long stood, that me thought my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkenes and heauines of minde, that I might easilie haue bene perswaded to haue resigned ouer my very essence. But Loue, (which one time layeth burthens, another time giueth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled vp my hart to remember, that nothing is atchieued before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth neuer goe forward: and that therefore it was time, now or neuer, to sharpen my inuention, to pearce thorow the hardnes of this enterprise; neuer ceasing to assemble all my conceites, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolued on this way, which yet perchaunce you will thinke was a way rather to hide it. I began to counterfeite the extremest loue towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the loue, so liuely it was indeed within me, (although to another subiect) that litle I needed to counterfait any notable demonstrations of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her fowlnes I beheld Pamelas fayrenesse, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I sawe my Sunne shine in a puddled water: I cryed out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruites I could gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that mine eye conueyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is onely suteable in laying a foule complexion vpon a filthy fauour, setting foorth both in sluttishnes) she was the load-starre of my life, she the blessing of mine eyes, she the ouerthrowe of my desires, and yet the recompence of my ouerthrowe; she the sweetnesse of my hart, euen sweetning the death, which her sweetnesse drew vpo me. In summe, what soeuer I thought of Pamela , that I saide of Mopsa; whereby as I gatte my maisters good-will, who before spited me, fearing lest I should winne the Princesse fauour from him, so did the same make the Princesse the better content to allow me her presence: whether indeede it were, that a certaine sparke of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to winne away any thing of hers, how meanely soeuer she reputed of it; or rather (as I thinke) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrarie from the markes of Mopsaes worthinesse, she perceiued well enough, whither they were directed: and therfore being so masked, she was contented, as a sporte of witte to attend them. Whereupon one day determining to finde some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of mine owne loue, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I came in vnto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of clowdy fancies, tooke a harpe, and soong this song.
Since so mine eyes are subiect to your sight,
That in your sight they fixed haue my braine;
Since so my harte is filled with that light,
That onely light doth all my life maintaine; Since in sweete you all goods so richly raigne,
That where you are no wished good can want;
Since so your liuing image liues in me,
That in my selfe your selfe true loue doth plant;
How can you him vnworthy then decree,
In whose chiefe parte your worthes implanted be?
The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the middest with grieuous sighes, which ouertooke euery verse I sang, I let fall my harpe from me; and casting my eye sometime vpon Mopsa, but setling my sight principally vpon Pamela, And is it the onely fortune most bewtifull Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune must be the measure of his mind? Am I onely he that because I am in miserie, more miserie must be laid vpon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, consider, that a vertuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subiect, and the heauenly Sunne disdaines not to giue light to the smallest worme. O Mopsa, Mopsa, if my hart could be as manifest to you, as it is vncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well counteruaile the lownesse of my qualitie. Who hath not heard of the greatnes of your estate? who seeth not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet vniting of all beauties, which remaineth and dwelleth with you? who knowes not, that all these are but ornaments of that diuine sparke within you, which being descended from heauen, could not els-where picke out so sweete a mansion? But if you will knowe what is the bande that ought to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kinde mercyfulnesse to such a one, as is in his soule deuoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certaine smackring towards me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most commonly with a certaine speciall grace of her owne, wagging her lips, and grinning in steede of smiling: but all the words I could get of her, was, wrieng her waste, and thrusting out her chinne, In faith you iest with me: you are a merry man indeede. But the euer-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedie would be marred, if she did not helpe Mopsa to her part) was content to vrge a little further of me. Maister Dorus (said the faire Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame your selfe to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Fathers seruaunt; since she is not worthy to be loued, that hath not some feeling of her owne worthines. I staied a good while after her words, in hope she would haue continued her speech (so great a delight I receaued in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all ouer my body) I thus answered her. Ladie, most worthie of all dutie, how falles it out that you in whom all vertue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the onely rebellious handmaide against vertue? Especially, since before your eyes, you haue a pittifull spectacle of her wickednesse, a forlorne creature, which must remaine not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the ballance of worthinesse or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (euen at his death) haue leaue to speake, let my mortall wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the partie I loue, as the feeling of them cannot come into any vnnoble hart; shall that hart, which doth not onely feele them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that hart I saie, lifted vp to such a height, be counted base? O let not an excellent spirit doo it selfe such wrong, as to thinke, where it is placed, imbraced, and loued; there can be any vnworthinesse, since the weakest mist is not easilier driuen away by the Sunne, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not denie (answered the gratious Pamela) but that the loue you beare to Mopsa; hath brought you to the consideration of her vertues, and that consideration may haue made you the more vertuous, and so the more worthie: But euen that then (you must confesse) you haue receiued of her, and so are rather gratefully to thanke her, then to presse any further, till you bring something of your owne whereby to claime it. And truely Dorus, I must in Mopsaes behalfe say thus much to you, that if her beauties haue so ouertaken you, it becomes a true Loue to haue your harte more set vpon her good then your owne, & to beare a tenderer respect to her honour, then your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madame (said Mopsa , throwing a great number of sheeps eyes vpon me) you haue euen touched mine owne minde to the quicke, forsooth. I (finding that the pollicie that I had vsed, had at lest wise procured thus much happinesse vnto me, as that I might euen in my Ladies presence, discouer the sore which had deepely festered within me, and that she could better conceaue my reasons applied to Mopsa, then she would haue vouchsafed them, whilest her selfe was a partie) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, vsing this fit occasion of Pamelaes wit, and Mopsaes ignorance. Therefore with an humble pearcing eye, looking vpon Pamela, as if I had rather bene condemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning my selfe to Mopsa, but keeping mine eye where it was, faire Mopsa (said I) well doo I finde by the wise knitting together of your answere, that any disputation I can vse is asmuch too weake, as I vnworthy. I find my loue shalbe proued no loue, without I leue to loue, being too vnfit a vessell in whom so high thoughts should be engraued. Yet since the Loue I beare you, hath so ioyned it selfe to the best part of my life, as the one can not depart, but that th’other will follow, before I seeke to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my vnworthines, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her hart I thinke tumbled with ouermuch kindnesse, when Pamela with a more fauourable countenance then before (finding how apt I was to fall into despaire) told me, I might therein haue answered my selfe; for besides that it was graunted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsaes perfections had greatly beautified my minde, there was none could denie, but that my minde and bodie deserued great allowance. But Dorus (sayd she) you must be so farre maister of your loue, as to consider, that since the iudgement of the world stands vpon matter of fortune, and that the sexe of womankind of all other is most bound to haue regardfull eie to mens iudgements, it is not for vs to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden vertues: since that, which in a wise prince would be counted wisdome, in vs will be taken for a light-grounded affection: so is not one thing, one, done by diuers persons. There is no man in a burning feuer feeles so great contentment in cold water greedily receiued (which assoone as the drinke ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poore I found my soule refreshed with her sweetly pronounced words; and newly, and more violently againe enflamed, assoone as she had closed vp her delightfull speech, with no lesse well graced silence. But remembring in my selfe that aswell the Souldier dieth which standeth still, as he that giues the brauest onset: and seeing that to the making vp of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making knowne of mine estate, with a face well witnessing how deeply my soule was possessed, and with the most submissiue behauior, that a thralled hart could expresse, euen as my words had bene too thicke for my mouth, at length spake to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princesse (said I) and do not then your owne sweet words sufficiently testifie, that there was neuer man could haue a iuster action against filthy fortune, then I, since all other things being granted me, her blindnesse is my onely let? O heauenly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discerne my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches haue not already cloied you, and that the verie presence of such a wretch become not hatefull in your eyes: let me reply thus much further against my mortall sentence, “by telling you a storie, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seeme long) whereby you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath bene content to take the like vpon him, and by that onely hath aspired to enioy a mightie Princesse. Pamela gratiously harkened, and I told my tale in this sort.
In the countrie of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (no, no Prince, whome bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. O Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serue exclamations, where there are no eares to receiue the sound? This Musidorus, being yet in the tendrest age, his worthy father paied to nature (with a violent death) her last duties, leauing his childe to the faith of his friends, and the proofe of time: death gaue him not such pangs as the foresight-full care he had of his silly successour. And yet if in his foresight he could haue seene so much, happie was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sonnes miseries, which his knowledge could neither haue preuented, nor relieued. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destenies good will, depriued of his principall stay) was yet for some yeares after (as if the starres would breath themselues for a greater mischiefe) lulled vp in as much good luck, as the heedfull loue of his dolefull mother, and the florishing estate of his country could breed vnto him.
But when the time now came, that miserie seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to knowe misery, I thinke there was a conspiracy in all heauenly and earthly things, to frame fit occasions to leade him vnto it. His people (to whom all matters in foretime were odious) beganne to wish in their beloued Prince, experience by trauaile: his deare mother (whose eyes were held open, onely with the ioy of looking vpon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhead life, desiring the same her subiectes did, for the increase of her sonnes worthinesse. And hereto did Musidorus owne vertue (see how vertue can bee a minister to mischiefe) sufficiently prouoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likenesse of our mishaps makes me presume to patterne my selfe vnto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could with-hold him. But the present occasion which did knit al this together, was his vncle the king of Macedon; who hauing lately before gotten such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time send both for the Prince his sonne (brought vp together, to auoid the warres, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himselfe, that his ioy might be the more full, hauing such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull toong doth lead me; & thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, til Pamela shewing by countenace that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfie the king, tooke their way by sea, towards Thrace, whether they would needs go with a Nauie to succour him: he being at that time before Bizantium with a mighty Army beseeging it; wher at that time his court was. But whe the cospired heauens had gotten this Subiect of their wrath vpo so fit a place as the sea was, they streight began to breath out in boystrous winds some part of their malice against him; so that with the losse of al his Nauie, he only with the Prince his cosin, were cast a land, farre off from the place whether their desires would haue guided them. O cruell winds in your vnconsiderate rages, why either began you this furie, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathfull tormets. To tell you what pittiful mishaps fel to the young Prince of Macedon his cose I should too much fill your eares with strange horrors; neither will I stay vpo those laborsome aduentures, nor loathsome misaduentures to which, and through which his fortune & courage coducted him; My speach hastneth it selfe to come to the fulpoint of Musidorus infortunes. For as wee find the most pestilent diseases do gather into themselues all the infirmities with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embrace in the extremitie of it selfe all his former mischiefes.
Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endlesse ouer-throw. Arcadia was, (alas wel might I say it is) the charmed circle, wher all his spirits for euer should be enchauted. For here (& no where els) did his infected eyes make his mind know, what power heauenly beauty hath to throw it down to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian Kings eldest daughter in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of ioy, and ioyfull parts of his heart, that he left in himselfe nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them beleue, whom seeing cannot perswade? Those paines must be felt before they ca be vnderstood; no outward vtterance can command a conceipt. Such vvas as then the state of the King, as it vvas no time by direct meanes to seeke her. And such vvas the state of his captiued vvill, as he could delay no time of seeking her.
In this intangled case, he cloathed himselfe in a shepheards vveede, that vnder the basenesse of that forme, he might at lest haue free accesse to feed his eyes vvith that, vvhich should at length eate vp his hart. In vvhich doing, thus much vvithout doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not alvvayes to be reiected, since vnder that vaile there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might vvith taking on a shepherds looke cast vp his eyes to the fairest Princesse Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of mine neede no more to be disdained, or held for disgracefull. But now alas mine eyes waxe dimme, my toong beginnes to falter, and my hart to want force to helpe, either with the feeling remembrance I haue, in what heape of miseries the caitife Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therefore most excellent Princesse, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be vnderstood, I haue saide enough, for the defence of my basenesse; and for that which after might befal to that patterne of ill fortune, (the matters are too monstrous for my capacitie) his hatefull destinies must best declare their owne workemanship.
Thus hauing deliuered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princesse might iudge that hee ment himselfe, who spake so feelingly; her aunswere was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you thinke it? shee hath heard heretofore of vs both, by meanes of the valiant Prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away: which she (following my owne stile) thus delicately brought foorth. You haue told (said she) Dorus, a prettie tale; but you are much deceiued in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cosen Pyrocles did both perish vpon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the historie) did assure my father. O how that speach of hers did poure ioyes in my hart? ó blessed name (thought I) of mine, since thou hast bene in that toong, and passed through those lips, though I can neuer hope to approch them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not denie it, but that he is perished: (which I said, least sooner suspition might arise of your being here, then your selfe would haue it) and yet affirmed no lye vnto her, since I onely said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceiue indeed you haue either heard or read the story of that vnhappy Prince; for this was the verie obiection, which that peerelesse Princesse did make vnto him, when he sought to appeare such as he was before her wisdome: and thus as I haue read it faire written in the certaintie of my knowledge he might answere her, that indeed the ship wherein he came, by a treason was perished, and therefore that Plangus might easily be deceaued: but that he himselfe was cast vpon the coast of Laconia, where hee was taken vp by a couple of shepheardes, who liued in those dayes famous; for that both louing one faire maide, they yet remained constant frinds; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepheard Lamon, and brought by them to a noble-mans house, neere Mantinea , whose sonne had a little before his mariage, bene taken prisoner, and by the helpe of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himselfe by an other name) was deliuered. Now these circumlocutions I did vse, because of the one side I knewe the Princesse would knowe well the parties I ment; and of the other, if I should haue named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhappes it would haue rubd some coniecture into the heauie heade of Mistresse Mopsa.
And therefore (said I) most diuine Lady, he iustly was thus to argue against such suspitions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that vpon that wrack such a one was taken vp: and therefore that Plangus might well erre, who knew not of anies taking vp againe that hee that was so preserued, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chiefe of that wracked companie: which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, hee must needes bee one of them, although (as I saide) vpon a foretaken vowe, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princesse must needes iudge, that no lesse then a Prince durst vndertake such an enterprise, which (though he might gette the fauour of the Princesse) he could neuer defend with lesse then a Princes power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (saide he) for a certaine demonstration, he presumed to shew vnto the Princesse a marke he had on his face, as I might (said I) shew this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withall, shewed my necke to them both, where (as you know) there is a redde spotte, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a Lyons pawe, that shee may ascertaine her selfe, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to send some one she might trust, into Thssalia, secretly to bee aduertised, whether the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable signe, did not fully agree with their Prince Musidorus. Doo you not know further (saide she, with a setled countenance, not accusing any kind of inward motion) of that storie. Alas no, (said I) for euen here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrologie. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to worke vpon somewhat, to mollifie them (as the nature of Musick is to do) and withall, to shew what kinde of shepheard I was, I took vp my Harpe, and sang these few verses.
My sheepe are thoughts, which I both guide and serue:
Their pasture is faire hilles of fruitlesse Loue:
On barren sweetes they feede, and feeding sterue:
I waile their lotte, but will not other proue.
My sheepehooke is wanne hope, which all vpholdes:
My weedes, Desire, cut out in endlesse foldes.
What woell my sheepe shall beare, whiles thus they liue,
In you it is, you must the iudgement giue.
And then, partly to bring Mopsa againe to the matter (lest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answeares, I kneeled downe to the Princesse, and humblie besought her to moue Mopsa in my behalfe, that she would vnarme her noble hart of that steely resistance against the sweet blowes of Loue: that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornament; her face with beautie, her head with wisdome, her eyes with maiestie, her countenance with gracefulnes, her lippes with louelines, her tongue with victorie; that shee woulde make her hart the throne of pitie, being the most excellent rayment of the most excellent part.
Pamela, without shew either of fauour or disdaine, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa , and with such a voice and action, as might shewe shee spake of a matter which little did concerne her, Take heede to your selfe (saide shee) Mopsa, for your shepheard can speake well: but truely, if he doo fully proue himselfe such as he saith, I mean, the honest shepheard Menalchas his brother, and heire I knowe no reason why you shoulde thinke scorne of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) shee were euen then farre spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my queint speeches, shee woulde keepe her honestie close inough: And that as for the way of matrimony, shee woulde steppe neuer a foote further, till my Maister her father had spoken the whole word him selfe, no shee woulde not. But euer and anon turning her muzzell toward me, shee threwe such a prospect vpon mee, as might well haue giuen a surfet to any weake louers stomacke. But Lord what a foole am I, to mingle that driuels speeches among my noble thoughts? but because shee was an Actor in this Tragedie, to geue you a full knowledge, and to leaue nothing (that I can remember) vnrepeated.
Now the Princesse being about to withdrawe her selfe from vs, I tooke a Iewell made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it lookes one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly patterne out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princesse that she would vouchsafe to giue it Mopsa, and with the blessednes of her hande to make acceptable vnto her that toye which I had founde, followinge of late an acquaintaunce of mine at the plowe. For (said I) as the earth was turned vp, the plowe-share lighted vpon a great stone: we puld that vp, and so found both that, and some other prety thinges which we had deuided betwixt vs.
Mopsa was benummed with ioy when the Princesse gaue it her: but in the Princesse I could finde no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calme carelesnesse letting each thing slide, iustly as we doo by their speeches, (who neither in matter nor person doo any way belong vnto vs) which kinde of colde temper, mixt with that lightning of her naturall maiestie, is of all others most terrible vnto me: for yet if I found she contemned mee, I would desperatly labour both in fortune and vertue to ouercome it; if she onely misdoubted me, I were in heauen; for quickly I woulde bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if shee hated me, yet I shoulde know what passion to deale with; and either with infinitenes of desert I woulde take away the fewell from that fire; or if nothing would serue, then I vvould giue her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruell quietnes, neither retiring to mislike nor proceeding to fauour; gratious, but gratious still after one manner; all her courtesies hauing this engrauen in them, that what is done, is for vertues sake, not for the parties (euer keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our prayses, nor curses, will spurre or stoppe his horses). This (I say) heauenlynes of hers. (for how so euer my miserie is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach vnto, that I almost begin to submitte my selfe to the tyrannie of despaire, not knowing anyway of perswasion, where wisdome seemes to be vnsensible. I haue appeared to her eyes, like my selfe, by a deuice I vsed with my master, perswading him, that we two might put on certaine rich apparrel I had prouided, and so practise some thing on horsback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedie at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dametas got one by friendship out of the Princes stable. But how soeuer I showe, I am no base bodie, all I doo is but to beate a rocke and get fome.
But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dametas (who came whistling, and counting vpo his fingers, how many loade of hay his seuenteen fat oxen eat vp in a yeare) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (saide Dorus, taking his leaue) the sum is this, that you may well finde you haue beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may well make your sorrow stronger. But Zelmane turning her speach to Dametas, I shall grow (saide shee) skilfull in country matters, if I haue often conference with your seruaunt. In sooth (answered Dametas with a gracelesse skorne) the Lad may proue well enough, if hee ouersoon thinke not too well of himselfe, and will beare away that hee heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane find shee might haue spent her time better with him, he began with a wilde Methode to runne ouer all the art of husbandrie: especially imploying his tongue about well dunging of a fielde: while poore Zelmane yeelded her eares to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answere, till they came to Basilius, and Gynecia, who attended for her in a coach to carrie her abroad to see some sportes prepared for her. Basilius, and Gynecia sitting in the one ende, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moued in her minde, to haue kissed their feete for the fauour of so blessed a seate: for the narrownesse of the coach made them ioine from the foote to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch whereof though it were barred by their enuious apparell, yet as a perfect Magnes, though but in an iuorie boxe will thorow the boxe sende foorth his imbracing vertue to a beloued needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmanes soule cleaue vnto her, both thorow the iuory case of her body, and the apparell which did ouer-clowd it. All the bloud of Zelmanes body stirring in her, as wine will do when suger is hastely put into it, seeking to sucke the sweetnes of the beloued guest; her hart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restraines his libertie, before the grate; not panting, but striuing violently (if it had bene possible) to haue leapt into the lappe of Philoclea. But Dametas, euen then proceeding from being maister of a carte, to bee doctor of a coach, not a little prowd in himselfe, that his whippe at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, draue the coach (the couer whereof was made with such ioints, that as they might (to auoid the weather) pull it vp close when they listed, so when they would they might put each ende downe, and remaine as discouered and open sighted as on horsebacke) till vpon the side of the forrest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seeme the Lordes, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogges; a cast of Merlins there was besides, which flying of a gallant height ouer certaine bushes, woulde beate the birdes (that rose) downe vnto the bushes, as Falcons will doo wilde-foule ouer a riuer. But the sporte which for that daie Basilius would principallie shewe to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting vp on his wagling winges vvith paine, till he vvas come to some height, (as though the aire next to the earth vvere not fit for his great bodie to flie thorow) vvas now growen to diminish the sight of himselfe, and to giue example to great persons, that the higher they be, the lesse they should shovv: vvhen a Ierfaulcon vvas cast of after her, vvho streight spying vvhere the pray vvas, fixing her eie vvith desire, and guiding her vving by her eie, vsed no more strength then industry. For as a good builder to a hie tower vvill not make his stayre vpright, but vvinding almost the full compasse about, that the steepnes be the more vnsensible: so shee, seeing the tovvring of her pursued chase, vvent circkling, and compassing about, rising so vvith the lesse sence of rising; and yet finding that vvay scantly serue the greedines of her hast, as an ambitious bodie vvill go far out of the direct vvay, to vvin to a point of height vvhich he desires; so would shee (as it were) turne taile to the Heron, and flie quite out another way, but all was to returne in a higher pitch; which once gotten, she would either beate with cruell assaults the Heron, who now was driuen to the best defence of force, since flight would not serue; or els clasping with him, come downe together, to be parted by the ouer-partiall beholders.
Diuers of which flights Basilius shewing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceassed before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successour made his departure the better remembred. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dametas to driue homeward, who (halfe sleeping, halfe musing about the mending of a wine-presse) guided the horses so ill, that the wheele comming ouer a great stub of a tree, it ouerturned the coach. Which though it fell violently vpon the side where Zelmane and Gynecia sat, yet for Zelmanes part, she would haue bene glad of the fall, which made her beare the sweete burthen of Philoclea, but that shee feared shee might receaue some hurt. But indeede neither shee did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their armes and legs within the coach, sauing Gynecia, who with the onely bruze of the fall had her shoulder put out of ioinct; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well againe, yet with much paine was she brought to the lodge; and paine (fetching his ordinary companion, a feuer with him draue her to entertaine them both in her bedde.
But neither was the feuer of such impatient heate, as the inwarde plague-sore of her affection, nor the paine halfe so noysome, as the iealousie shee conceaued of her daughter Philoclea, lest this time of her sicknesse might giue apt occasion to Zelmane, whom shee misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commauded her in her eare to go to the other lodge, and send Miso to her, with whom she would speak, and shee lie with her sister Pamela. The meane while Gynecia kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licenced Zelmane. Philoclea not skild in any thing better then obedience, went quietly downe; and the Moone then full (not thinking skorne to be a torch-bearer to such beautie) guided her steppes, whose motions beare a mind which bare in it selfe farre more stirring motions. And alas (sweete Philoclea) how hath my penne til now forgot thy passions, since to thy memorie principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the slacknes to come to those woes, which hauing caused in others, thou didst feele in thy selfe.
The sweete minded Philoclea was in their degree of wel doing, to whom the not knowing of euill serueth for a ground of vertue, and hold their inward powers in better forme with an vnspotted simplicitie, then many, who rather cunningly seeke to know what goodnes is, then willingly take into themselues the following of it. But as that sweet and simple breath of heauenly goodnesse, is the easier to bee altered, because it hath not passed through the worldlie wickednesse, nor feelingly found the euill, that euill caries with it; so now the Ladie Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had receaued nothing, but according as the naturall course of each thing required; whose tender youth had obediently liued vnder her parents behests, without framing out of her owne will the fore-chosing of any thing) when now shee came to appoint, wherein her iudgement was to be practized, in knowing faultines by his first tokens, she was like a yong faune, who comming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whether it be a thing or no to bee eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while liued in the lodge with her, and that her onely being a noble straunger had bred a kind of heedfull attention; her comming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingnes of conuersation; her wit & behauiour, a liking and silent admiration; at length the excellency of her naturall gifts, ioined with the extreme shewes she made of most deuout honouring Philoclea, (carying thus in one person the only two bands of good will, louelines and louingnes) brought forth in her hart a yeelding to a most friendly affection; which when it had gotten so full possession of the keies of her mind, that it would receaue no message from her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; then streight grew an exceeding delight still to be with her, with an vnmeasurable liking of all that Zelmane did: matters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed good-will, now good-will became the chiefe cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanure, but the demeanure was prized because it was Zelmanes. Then followed that most naturall effect of conforming ones selfe to that, which she did like, and not onely wishing to be her selfe such an other in all things, but to ground an imitation vpon so much an esteemed authoritie: so that the next degree was to marke all Zelmanes dooings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into her selfe, as a patterne of worthie proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not onely by the comminaltie of Passions, but agreed vnto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason it selfe (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royall assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) tooke care to see the statute thorowly obserued. Then grew on that not onely she did imitate the sobernes of her countenance, the gracefulnesse of her speech, but euen their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; and as Zelmanes eyes would deliuer a submissiue, but vehement desire in their looke, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answere in like pearcing kindnesse of a looke. Zelmane as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynecias iealousie would suffer, desired to be neere Zelmane . If Zelmane tooke her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship ought to be mutuall) would (with a sweete fastnes) shew she was loth to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; when Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdome, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmanes languishing countenance with crost armes, and sometimes cast-vp eyes, she thought to haue an excellent grace: and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance: till at the last (poore soule, ere she were aware) she accepted not onely the badge, but the seruice; not only the signe, but the passion signified. For whether it were, that her wit in continuance did finde, that Zelmanes friendship was full of impatient desire, hauing more then ordinarie limits, and therfore she was content to second Zelmane, though her selfe knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-loue (well considered) haue an infectiue power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loues harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might liue all their liues together, like two of Dianas Nimphes. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nimphes besides them, who also would haue their part in Zelmane. Then would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a naturall band might make her more speciall to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be robbed of her. Then growne bolder, she would wish either her selfe, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displaied his ensigne in her minde, then followed whole squadrons of longings, that so it might be, with a maine battaile of mislikings, and repynings against their creation, that so it was not. Then dreames by night began to bring more vnto her, then she durst wish by day, where-out making did make her know her selfe the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easie to be cured, they are hard to be knowne, but when they grow easie to be knowne, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweete Philoclea, while she might preuent it, she did not feele it, now she felt it, when it was past preuenting; like a riuer, no rampiers being built against it, till alreadie it haue ouerflowed. For now indeed, Loue puld off his maske, and shewed his face vnto her, and told her plainly, that shee was his prisoner. Then needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorow her face; Then her rosie coulor was often encreased with extraordinarie blushing: and so another time, perfect whitnesse descended to a degree of palenesse; now hot, then cold, desiring she knewe not what, nor how, if she knew what. Then her minde (though too late) by the smart was brought to thinke of the disease, and her owne proofe taught her to know her mothers minde; which (as no error giues so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authoritie of a parent) so greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more iealous her mother was, the more she thought the Iewell precious, which was with so many lookes garded. But that preuailing so farre, as to keepe the two louers from priuate conference, then began she to feele the sweetnesse of a louers solitarinesse, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, shee might giue passage to her thoughts, and so as it were vtter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mothers commandement, with dolefull gestures and vncertaine paces, shee did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where manie times before she had delighted to walke, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set together, as with the shade the moone gaue thorow it, it might breede a fearefull kinde of deuotion to looke vpon it. But true thoughts of loue banished all vaine fancie of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking vpon her: There had she enioyed her selfe often, while she was mistresse of her selfe, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.
But the principall cause that inuited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seeme had bene dedicated in ancient time to the Siluan gods: which she finding there a fewe dayes before Zelmanes comming, had written these words vpon it, as a testimonie of her mind, against the suspition her captiuitie made her thinke she liued in. The writing was this.
You liuing powres enclosed in stately shrine
Of growing trees: you rurall Gods that wield
Your scepters here, if to your eares diuine
A voice may come, which troubled soule doth yeld:
This vowe receaue, this vowe ô Gods maintaine;
My virgin life no spotted thought shall staine. Thou purest stone, whose purenesse doth present
My purest minde; whose temper hard doth showe
My tempred hart; by thee my promise sent
Vnto my selfe let after-liuers know.
No fancy mine, nor others wrong suspect
Make me, ô vertuous Shame, thy lawes neglect. O Chastitie, the chiefe of heauenly lightes,
Which makst vs most immortall shape to weare,
Holde thou my hart, establish thou my sprights:
To onely thee my constant course I beare.
Till spotlesse soule vnto thy bosome flye,
Such life to leade, such death I vow to dye.
But now that her memorie serued as an accuser of her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to beare testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the toppes together, as they might seeme a little chappell: and there might she by the help of the moone-light perceiue the goodly stone, which serued as an altar in that wooddie deuotion. But neither the light was enough to reade the words, and the inke was alreadie foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceaued, Alas (said she) faire Marble, which neuer receiuedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she haue chaunged since. Enioy, enioy the glorie of thy nature, which can so constantly beare the markes of my inconstancie. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there came into her head certaine verses, which if she had had present commoditie, she would haue adioyned as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.
My words, in hope to blaze my stedfast minde,
This marble chose, as of like temper knowne:
But loe, my words defaste, my fancies blinde,
Blots to the stone, shames to my selfe I finde:
And witnesse am, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand with constant marble stone. My words full weake, the marble full of might;
My words in store, the marble all alone;
My words blacke inke, the marble kindly white;
My words vnseene, the marble still in sight,
May witnesse beare, how ill agree in one,
A womans hand, with constant marble stone.
But seeing she could not see meanes to ioyne as then this recantation to the former vowe, (laying all her faire length vnder one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turne vp and downe, as if she had hoped to turne away the fancie that mastred her, and hid her face, as if she could haue hidden herselfe from her owne fancies. At length with a whispring note to her selfe; O me vnfortunate wretch (said she) what poysonous heates be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest inuaded my soule? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Then, a cloud passing betweene her sight and the moone, O Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my vertue would as easily passe away, as you will quickly ouercome this let; or els that you were for euer thus darkned, to serue for an excuse of my outragious folly. Then looking to the starres, which had perfitly as then beautified the cleere skie: My parents (said she) haue told me, that in these faire heauenly bodies, there are great hidden deities, which haue their working in the ebbing and flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (O you Stars) iudge rightly of me, and if I haue with wicked intent made my selfe a pray to fancie, or if by any idle lustes I framed my hart fit for such an impression, then let this plague dayly encrease in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But if extreame and vnresistable violence haue oppressed me, who will euer do any of you sacrifice (ô you Starres) if you do not succour me. No, no, you will not help me. No, no, you can not help me: Sinne must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish obiections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibilitie that dooth torment me: for, vnlawfull desires are punished after the effect of enioying; but vnpossible desires are punished in the desire it selfe. O then, ô tenne times vnhappie that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth loue; in me despaire should be the bellowes of my affection: and of all despaires the most miserable, which is drawen from impossibilitie. The most couetous man longs not to get riches out of a ground which neuer can beare any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wits to clime into heauen; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, ô Loue, why doost thou in thy beautifull sampler set such a worke for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why doo I thus condemne my Fortune, before I heare what she can say for her selfe? What doo I, sillie wench, knowe what Loue hath prepared for mee? Doo I not see my mother, as well, at lest as furiouslie as my selfe, loue Zelmane? And should I be wiser then my mother? Either she sees a possibilitie in that which I thinke impossible, or els impossible loues neede not misbecome me. And doo I not see Zelmane (who doth not thinke a thought which is not first wayed by wisdome and vertue) doth not she vouchsafe to loue me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can loue poore me, shall I thinke scorne to loue such a woman as Zelmane? Away then all vaine examinations of why and how. Thou louest me, excellent Zelmane, and I loue thee: and with that, embrasing the very ground whereon she lay, she said to her selfe (for euen to her selfe she was ashamed to speake it out in words) O my Zelmane, gouerne and direct me: for I am wholy giuen ouer vnto thee.
In this depth of muzes, and diuers sorts of discourses, would she rauingly haue remained, but that Dametas and Miso (who were round about to seeke her, vnderstanding she was to come to their lodge that night) came hard by her; Dametas saying, That he would not deale in other bodies matters; but for his part, he did not like that maides should once stirre out of their fathers houses, but if it were to milke a cow, or saue a chicken from a kites foot, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she would giue her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keepe within dores for one fortnight. But their iangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to waite vpon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parents discipline, as well as her sister, to serue her selfe) she went alone vp to Pamelas chamber: where meaning to delight her eies, and ioy her thoughts with the sweet conuersation of her beloued sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortall creatures) sitting in a chaire, lying backward, with her head almost ouer the back of it, and looking vpon a wax-candle which burnt before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her hand-kerchiefe, which had lately dronke vp the teares of her eyes, leauing in steed of them, crimsen circles, like redde flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorow) she earnestlie intreated to know the cause thereof, that either she might comfort, or accompanie her dolefull humor. But Pamela, rather seeming sorie that she had perceiued so much, then willing to open any further, O my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsell, a Princesse by the law of our countrey, and which name (me thinke) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your fauour, what meanes this banishing me from your counsels? Do you loue your sorrowe so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or doo you thinke I shall not loue a sad Pamela, so well as a ioyfull? Or be my eares vnworthie, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceale from your sister, yea and seruant Philoclea? These words wanne no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talke better as they lay together; they impouerished their cloathes to inrich their bed, which for that night might well scorne the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with deare, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seeme that Loue was come to play him there without darte; or that weerie of his owne fires, he was there to refresh himselfe betweene their sweete-breathing lippes. But Philoclea earnestly againe intreated Pamela to open her griefe; who (drawing the curtaine, that the candle might not complaine of her blushing) was ready to speake: but the breath almost formed into words, was againe stopt by her, and turned into sighes. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweete Philoclea, let vs talke of some other thing: and tell me whether you did euer see any thing so amended as our Pastorall sports be, since that Dorus came hether? O Loue, how farre thou seest with blind eyes? Philoclea had straight found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I haue often wondred to my selfe how such excellencies could be in so meane a person; but belike Fortune was afraide to lay her treasures, where they should be staind with so many perfections: onely I maruaile how he can frame himselfe to hide so rare giftes vnder such a block as Dametas. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more doo I neither; and to say the trueth: but Lord, how are we falne to talke of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to marke him, while Dametas reades his rusticke lecture vnto him (how to feede his beastes before noone, where to shade them in the extreame heate, how to make the manger hansome for his oxen, when to vse the goade, and when the voice: giuing him rules of a heardman, though he pretend to make him a shepheard) to see all the while with what a grace (which seemes to set a crowne vpon his base estate) he can descend to those poore matters, certainly you would: but to what serues this? no doubt we were better sleepe then talke of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I haue caught you, the constancy of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disiointed speeches: you loue, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you haue it; and with lesse adoo should, if my hart could haue thought those words suteable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I thinke Vertue it selfe is no armour of proofe against affection. Therefore learne by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to her selfe, your sheares come too late to clip the birds wings that already is flowne away. But then Pamela being once set in the streame of her loue, went away amaine withall, telling her how his noble qualities had drawne her liking towardes him; but yet euer waying his meanenes, and so held continually in due limits; till seeking many meanes to speake with her, and euer kept from it (as well because she shund it, seing and disdaining his mind, as because of her iealous iaylours) he had at length vsed the finest pollicie that might be in counterfaiting loue to Mopsa, and saying to Mopsa what soeuer he would haue her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his owne tale in a third person, making poore Mopsa beleeue, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shall know my teares come not, neither of repentance nor misery, who thinke you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? euen the Prince Musidorus , famous ouer all Asia, for his heroicall enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the straunger Plangus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seene his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his loue was, you would haue matched in your selfe (those two rarely matched together) pittie and delight. Tell me dear sister (for the Gods are my witnesses I desire to do vertuously) can I without the detestable staine of vngratefulnesse abstaine from louing him, who (far exceeding the beautifulnesse of his shape with the beautifulnesse of his minde, and the greatnesse of his estate with the greatnesse of his actes) is content so to abase him selfe, as to become Dametas seruaunt for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdome is slow beliefe? That consideration did not want in me: for the nature of desire it selfe is no easier to receiue beliefe, then it is hard to ground beliefe. For as desire is glad to embrace the first shew of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assurance: and that haue I had of him, not onely by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would haue me send to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honorable Loue so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poore soule knowes he no other, but that I doo both suspect, neglect, yea and detest him. For euery day he finds one way or other to set forth himselfe vnto me, but all are rewarded with like coldnesse of acceptation.
A few daies since, he and Dametas had furnished themselues very richly to run at the ring before me. O how mad a sight it was to see Dametas, like rich Tissew furd with lambe-skins? But ô how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace hee presented himselfe before me on horseback, making maiestie wait vpon humblenes? how at the first, standing still with his eies bent vpon me, as though his motions were chained to my looke, he so staid till I caused Mopsa bid him do something vpo his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kinde rather of quick gesture, then shew of violence) you might see him come towards me, beating the ground in so due time, as no dancer can obserue better measure. If you remember the ship we saw once, when the Sea went hie vpon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Centaurlike he had bene one peece with the horse) was no more moued, then one is with the going of his owne legs: and in effect so did he command him, as his owne limmes: for though he had both spurres and wand, they seemed rather markes of soueraintie, then instruments of punishment; his hande and legge (with most pleasing grace) commanding without threatning, and rather remembring the chastising, at lest if sometimes he did, it was so stollen, as neither our eies could discerne it, nor the horse with any change did complaine of it: he euer going so iust with the horse, either foorth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his minde: in the turning one might perceiue the bridle-hande something gently stirre, but indeede so gently, as it did rather distill vertue, then vse violence. Him selfe (which mee thinkes is straunge) shewing at one instant both steadines and nimblenes; sometimes making him turne close to the grounde, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheeles about after a mouse: somtimes with a little more rising before, now like a Rauen leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dametas kiddes bounde ouer the hillockes: and all so done, as neither the lusty kinde shewed any roughnesse, nor the easier any idlenesse: but still like a well obeyed maister, whose becke is enough for a discipline, euer concluding each thing hee did with his face to me-wardes, as if thence came not onely the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sport was to se Dametas, how he was tost from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the grounde, giuing his gay apparell almost as foule an outside, as it had an inside. But as before hee had euer saide, he wanted but horse and apparell to be as braue a courtier as the best, so now brused with proofe, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisedome, to put himselfe vnder the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was faine alone to take the Ringe. Wherein truely at lest my womanishe eies could not discerne, but that taking his staffe from his thigh, the descending it a little downe, the getting of it vp into the rest, the letting of the pointe fall, and taking the Ring was but all one motion, at lest (if they were diuers motions) they did so stealinglie slippe one into another, as the latter parte was euer in hande, before the eie coulde discerne the former was ended. Indeede Dametas found fault that he shewed no more strength in shaking of his staffe: but to my conceite the fine cleenes of bearing it was exceeding delightfull.
But how delightfull soeuer it was, my delight might well be in my soule, but it neuer went to looke out of the window to doo him any comfort. But how much more I founde reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of minde to suppresse it, or at lest to conceale it. Indeed I must confesse, that as some Phisitions haue tolde me, that when one is colde outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truely the colde ashes laid vpon my fire, did not take the nature of fire fro it. Ful often hath my brest swollen with keeping my sighes imprisoned; full often haue the teares, I draue backe from mine eies, turned backe to drown my hart. But alas what did that helpe poore Dorus? whose eies (being his diligent intelligencers) could carrie vnto him no other newes, but discofortable. I thinke no day past, but by some one inuention he would appeare vnto me to testifie his loue. One time he daunced the Matachine daunce in armour (O with what a gracefull dexterity?) I thinke to make me see, that he had bin brought vp in such exercises: an other time he perswaded his maister (to make my time seeme shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he plaide Paris. Think (swet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truly, my Paris was a Paris, & more the a Paris: who while in a sauage apparell, with naked necke, armes, & legs, he made loue to Oenone, you might wel see by his chaunged countenaunce, and true teares, that he felte the parte he playde. Tell mee (sweete Philoclea,) did you euer see such a shephearde? tell mee, did you euer heare of such a Prince? And then tell me, if a small or vnworthy assaulte haue conquered mee. Truely I woulde hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But since my parentes deale so cruelly with mee, it is time for me to trust something to my owne iudgement. Yet hetherto haue my lookes beene as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruiteles trials, haue wrought such change in him, as I tel you true (with that word she laid her had vpon her quaking side) I do not a little feare him. See what a letter this is (then drew she the curtaine and tooke the letter from vnder the pillowe) which to day (with an afflicted humblenes) he deliuered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it vnto her, to mollifie (forsooth) her iron stomacke; with that she read the letter containing thus much.
Most blessed paper, which shalt kisse that had, where to all blessednes is in nature a seruant, do not yet disdaine to cary with thee the woful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraide to appeare before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall that diuine hande touch thee, but that thy basenesse shall be turned to moste hie preferment. Therefore mourne boldly my Inke; for while she lookes vppon you, your blackenes will shine: cry out boldly my Lamentation; for while she reads you, your cries will be musicke. Say then (O happie messenger of a most vnhappy message) that the too soone borne, and too late dying creature, which dares not speake, no not looke, no not scarcely thinke (as from his miserable selfe, vnto her heauenly highnesse) onely presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eies and voice doe exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, O no, that were not fitte, but of him. Thus much vnto her sacred iudgement: O you, the onely honour to women, to men the onelie admiration, you that being armed by Loue, defie him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you haue placed mee, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how mean so euer he be) it is reason you haue an accout of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steppes runnes fast to his graue, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soeuer, but yet a temple of your deitie) to be rased? But he dieth: it is most true, he dieth; and he in whom you liue, to obey you, dieth. Wherof though he plaine, he doth not complaine: for it is a harme, but no wrong, which he hath receiued. He dies, because in wofull language all his senses tell him, that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he liue, alas, alas, what followeth, what followeth of the most ruined Dorus, but his ende? Ende then, euill destinied Dorus, ende; and ende thou wofull letter, end; for it sufficeth her wisedom to know, that her heauenlie will shalbe accomplished.
O my Philoclea, is hee a person to write these wordes? and are these words lightly to bee regarded? But if you had seene, when with trembling hande hee had deliuered it, how hee went away, as if he had beene but the coffin that carried himselfe to his sepulcher. Two times I must confesse I was about to take curtesie into mine eies; but both times the former resolution stopte the entrie of it: so that hee departed without obtaining any further kindenesse. But he was no sooner out of the doore, but that I looked to the doore kindely; and truely the feare of him euer since hath put me into such perplexitie, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (saide Philoclea) leaue sorrow. The riuer of your teares will soone loose his fountaine; it is in your hand as well to stich vp his life againe, as it was before to rent it. And so (though with selfe-grieued mind) she comforted her sister, till sleepe came to bath himselfe in Pamelaes faire weeping eyes.
Which when Philoclea found, wringing her hands, O me (said she) indeede the onely subiect of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more vnfortunate, then my sisters greatest vnfortunatenesse. Alas shee weepes because shee would be no sooner happy; I weepe because I can neuer be happie; her teares flow form pittie; mine from being too farre lower then the reach of pittie. Yet doo I not enuie thee, deare Pamela, I do not enuy thee: only I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so farre off a kin in fortune.
But the darkenesse of sorrow ouershadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselues vnder the wings of sleepe, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked fro dreames which flattered them with more cofort, then their waking could, or would consent vnto. For then they were called vp by Miso; who hauing bene with Gynecia, had receiued commaundement to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea haue any priuate conferece, but that she should be present to heare what passed. Miso hauing now her authoritie encreased, But cae with skowling eyes to deliuer a slauering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to marre their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bedde: and that, when shee was of their age, shee trowed, shee would haue made a handkerchiefe by that time a day. The two sweete Princes with a smilinge silence answered her entertainement, and obeiyng her direction, couered their daintie beauties with the glad clothes. But as soone as Pamela was readie (and sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giuing a fit to her selfe, which the words of his letter (liuely imprinted in her minde) still remembred her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speake with her: because (she said) shee woulde take further iudgement of him, before shee woulde moue Dametas to graunt her in mariage vnto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweet meate to goe of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who entended both by speaking with him to giue some comfort to his passionate harte, and withall to heare some parte of his life past; which although fame had alreadie deliuered vnto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to haue it from so beloued an historian. Yet the sweetnesse of vertues disposition iealous, euen ouer it selfe, suffred her not to enter abruptlie into questions of Musidorus (whom shee was halfe ashamed she did loue so well, and more then halfe sorie she could loue no better) but thought best first to make her talke arise of Pyrocles, & his vertuous father: which thus she did.
Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceaued in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withall, you confessed his cosen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great losse, since (as I haue heard) he was a young Prince, of whom all men expected as much, as mans power could bring forth, and yet vertue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceaued. Most excellent Ladie (said Dorus ) no expectation in others, not hope in himselfe could aspire to a higher mark, then to bee thought worthy to be praised by your iudgement, and made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so sweet & noble an aire to flie in, as in your breath, so coulde not you (leauing your selfe aside) finde in the worlde a fitter subiect of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of roiall ancestors, famous, and famous for victories could make him: of shape most louely, and yet of minde more louely; valiaunt, curteous, wise, what should I say more? sweete Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequeathed to him that euer must haue thy vertues in admiration; that masked at least in them, I might haue founde some more gratious acceptation? with that hee imprisoned his looke for a while vppon Mopsa, who thereuppon fell into a very wide smiling. Truely (saide Pamela) Dorus I like well your minde, that can raise it selfe out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to thinke of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shootes at the midde-day Sunne, though he bee sure he shall neuer hit the marke; yet as sure hee is, he shall shoote higher, then who aimes but at a bushe. But I pray you Dorus (saide shee) tell me (since I perceiue you are well acquainted with that storie) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly roiall vertues, or by what waies he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent sonne of his, with the discourse of his life and losse: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cosen, because, they going together, the storie of Pyrocles (which I onely desire) may be the better vnderstood.
Incomparable Lady (said he) your commaundement doth not onely giue mee the wil, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellencie. And first, for that famous King Euarchus, he was (at this time you speake off) King of Macedon, a kingdom, which in elder time had such a soueraintie ouer all the prouinces of Greece, that euen the particular kings therein did acknowledge (with more or lesse degrees of homage) some kinde of fealtie thereunto: as among the rest, euen this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdome of Arcadia. But he, when hee came to his crowne, finding by his latter ancestors either negligence, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those dueties had beene intermitted, woulde neuer stirre vp olde titles (how apparant soeuer) whereby the publike peace (with the losse of manie not guiltie soules) shoulde be broken; but contenting himselfe to guide that shippe, wherin the heauens had placed him, shewed no lesse magnanimitie in daungerlesse despising, then others in daungerous affecting the multiplying of kingdomes: for the earth hath since borne enow bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and moste iust in the perfourming what he saw, and temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrarie: so thinke I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemne daunger, where daunger would offer to make anie wrongfull threatning vppon him. A Prince, that indeede especiallie measured his greatnesse by his goodnes: & if for any thing he loued greatnes, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodnes. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a graue maiestie, wherewith his mind did decke his outward graces; strong of bodie, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fifty yeares when his Nephew Musidorus tooke on such shepheardish apparell for the loue of the worlds paragon, as I now weare.
This King left Orphan both of father & mother, (whose father and grandfather likewise had died yong) he found his estate, when he came to the age (which allowed his authoritie) so disioynted euen in the noblest & strongest lims of gouernment, that the name of a King was growne euen odious to the people, his authorytie hauing bin abused by those great Lords, and litle kings: who in those betweene times of raigning (by vniust fauouring those that were partially theirs, and oppressing them that would defende their libertie against them had brought in (by a more felt then seene maner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchie; that is when men are gouerned in deede by a fewe, and yet are not taught to know what those fewe, be, to whom they should obey.
For they hauing the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, vsed the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a yeere they shal go out: making the Kinges sworde strike whom they hated, the Kings purse reward whom they loued: and (which is worst of all) making the Royall countenaunce serue to vndermine the Royall souerainty. For the Subiectes could taste no sweeter fruites of hauing a King, then grieuous taxations to serue vaine purposes; Lawes made rather to finde faultes, then to preuent faults: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a priuiledged place of vnbrideled licentiousnes, then as the abiding of him, who as a father, should giue a fatherly example vnto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition neuer satisfied) grew factious among themselues: and the vnderlinges, glad in deede to be vnderlinges to them they hated lest, to preserue them from such they hated most. Men of vertue suppressed, lest their shining shuld discouer the others filthines; and at legth vertue it selfe almost forgotten, when it had no hopefull end whereunto to be directed; olde men long nusled in corruption, scorning them that would seeke reformation; young men very fault-finding, but very faultie: and so to new fanglenesse both of manners, apparell, and each thing els, by the custome of selfe-guiltie euill, glad to change though oft for a worse; marchaundise abused, and so townes decaied for want of iust and naturall libertie; offices, euen of iudging soules, solde; publique defences neglected; and in summe, (lest too long I trouble you) all awrie, and (which wried it to the most wrie course of all) witte abused, rather to faine reason why it should be amisse, then how it should be amended.
In this, and a much worse plight then it is fitte to trouble your excellent eares withall, did the King Euarchus finde his estate, when he tooke vppon him the regiment: which by reason of the long streame of abuse, he was forced to establish by some euen extreme seuerity, not so much for the very faultes themselues, (which hee rather sought to preuent then to punishe) as for the faultie ones; who strong, euen in their faultes, scorned his youth, and coulde not learne to disgest, that the man which they so long had vsed to maske their owne appetites, shoulde now be the reducer of them into order. But so soone as some fewe (but in deede notable) examples, had thundered a duety into the subiectes hearts, hee soone shewed, no basenes of suspition, nor the basest basenes of enuy, coulde any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined foorth indeede all loue among them, when an awfull feare, ingendred by iustice, did make that loue most louely: his first and principal care being to appear vnto his people, such as he would haue them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his lawes, and his lawes as it were, his axioms arising out of his deedes. So that within small time, he wanne a singular loue in his people, and engraffed singular confidence. For how could they chuse but loue him, whom they found so truely to loue them? He euen in reason disdayning, that they that haue charge of beastes, shoulde loue their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to gouerne the most excellent creature, should not loue so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flatterie to builde vpon false grounds of gouernment) make themselues (as it were) an other thing from the people; and so count it gaine what they get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes hiest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacie of argument thinking themselues most Kinges, when the subiect is most basely subiected: He cotrariwise, vertuouslie and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politike bodie, whereof himselfe was the head; euen so cared for them, as he woulde for his owne limmes: neuer restrayning their libertie, without it stretched to licenciousnes, nor pulling from them their goods, which they found were not imployed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions shewing a delight in their wellfare, brought that to passe, that while by force he tooke nothing, by their loue he had all. In summe (peerelesse Princesse) I might as easily sette downe the whole Arte of gouernement, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceedings. But in such sorte hee flourished in the sweete comforte of dooing much good, when by an accasion of leauing his Countrie, he was forced to bring foorth his vertue of magnanimitie, as before hee had done of iustice.
He had onely one sister, a Ladie (lest I should too easilie fall to partiall prayses of her) of whom it may be iustly saide, that she was no vnfit branch to the noble stock whereof she was come. Her he had giuen in mariage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a frendship, as to confirm the frendship betweene their posteritie, which betweene them, by the likenes of vertue, had beene long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus, could neede no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not heard (said Pamela) of the valiant, wise, and iust Dorilaus, whose vnripe death doth yet (so many yeares since) draw teares from vertuous eyes? And indeede, my father is wont to speake of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable friendship (a rare thing in Princes, more rare betweene Princes) that so holily was obserued to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) go on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) hauing married his sister, had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folke woont to say, how vnhappie soeuer the children after grow) with a sonne, whom they named Musidorus : of whom I must needes first speake before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so vpon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Southsayers, who affirmed strange and incredible thinges should be performed by that childe; whether the heauens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankinde, or that flatterie be so presumptuous, as euen at times to borrow the face of Diuinitie. But certainly, so did the boldnesse of their affirmation accompanie the greatnesse of what they did affirm (euen descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should ouercome) that the king of Phrygia (who ouer-superstitiously thought himselfe touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to preuent his after-expectations: because a skilfull man (hauing compared his natiuity with the child) so told him. Foolish man, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering that if it were a worke of the superiour powers, the heauens at length are neuer children. But so he did, and by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (ioining together their armies) inuaded Thessalia, and brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithfull friend and brother Euarchus came so mightily to his succour, that with some enterchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a iust war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a crosse mariage also with Dorilaus his sister, and shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driuen to returne to the defence of his owne countrie, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobilitie) the mighty King of Thrace, and his brother, King of Pannonia, had inuaded. The successe of those warres was too notable to be vnknowne to your eares, to which it seemes all worthy fame hath glory to come vnto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friends helpe) in a great battaile depriued of life, his obsequies being no more solemnised by the teares of his partakers, then the bloud of his enimies; with so pearcing a sorrow to the constant hart of Euarchus, that the newes of his sons birth could lighten his countenance with no shew of comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child, truth it selfe in him forthwith deliuered. For what fortune onely southsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles, both Heauens and Earth giuing tokens of the comming forth of an Heroicall vertue. The senate house of the planets was at no time so set, for the decreeing of perfection in a man, as at that time all folkes skilfull therein did acknowledge: onely loue was threatned, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and hauen of their best yeares. But as death may haue preuented Pyrocles, so vnworthinesse must be the death of Musidorus.
But the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childe-birth) dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of his only sonne to his sister; doing it the rather because the warre continued in cruell heat, betwixt him and those euill neighbours of his. In which meane time those young Princes (the only comforters of that vertuous widow) grewe on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceats: Musidorus (perchaunce because among his subiects) exceedingly beloued: and by the good order of Euarchus (well perfourmed by his sister) they were so brought vp, that all the sparkes of vertue, which nature had kindled in them, were so blowne to giue forth their vttermost heate that iustly it may be affirmed, they enflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost before they could perfectly speake, they began to receaue conceits not vnworthy of the best speakers: excellent deuises being vsed, to make euen their sports profitable; images of battailes, and fortifications being then deliuered to their memory, which after, their stronger iudgements might dispense, the delight of tales being conuerted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy Princes, both to moue them to do nobly, and teach them how to do nobly; the beautie of vertue still being set before their eyes, and that taught them with far more diligent care, then Grammaticall rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffring, and their mindes acquainted by degrees with daungers; and in sum, all bent to the making vp of princely mindes: no seruile feare vsed towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to Princes: so that a habite of commaunding was naturalized in them, and therefore the farther from Tyrannie: Nature hauing done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.
Among which nothing I so much delight to recount, as the memorable friendship that grew betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like then the likenesse of all other vertues, and made them more neere one to the other, then the neerenes of their bloud could aspire vnto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied betweene them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or foure yeares, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in societie, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past ouer the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bare reuerence full of loue to Musidorus, and Musidorus had a delight full of loue in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or minde, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learne of none, as of Musidorus: till Pyrocles , being come to sixtene yeares of age, he seemed so to ouerrun his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, that not Musidorus , no nor any man liuing (I thinke) could performe any action, either on horse, or foote, more strongly, or deliuer that strength more nimbly, or become the deliuery more gracefully, or employ all more vertuously. Which may well seeme wonderfull: but wonders are no wonders in a wonderfull subiect.
At which time vnderstanding that the King Euarchus, after so many yeares warre, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege of Bizantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practise of those vertues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yeelding ouer her owne affects to her childrens good (for a mother she was in effect to them both) the rather that they might helpe her beloued brother, they brake off all delayes; which Musidorus for his part thought already had deuoured too much of his good time, but that he had once graunted a boone (before he knew what it was) to his deere friend Pyrocles; that he would neuer seeke the aduentures of armes, vntill he might go with him: which hauing fast bound his hart (a true slaue to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his owne humour for his friends sake, till now being both sent for by Euarchus, & finding Pyrocles able euery way to go thorow with that kinde of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his owne, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a nauie, that they might go like themselues, and not only bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their deere parent Euarchus , they recommended themselues to the Sea, leauing the shore of Thessalia full of teares and vowes; and were receiued thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawne on Princes. The winde was like a seruaunt, wayting behind them so iust, that they might fill the sailes as they listed; and the best saylers shewing themselues lesse couetous of his liberalitie, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautifull flocke, which so well could obey their maisters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eies, some two or three of them would striue, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the windes breath, or by the aduantageous building of their moouing houses) leaue their fellowes behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leasure to see the practise of that, which before they had learned by bookes: to consider the arte of catching the winde prisoner, to no other ende, but to runne away with it; to see how beautie, and vse can so well agree together, that of all the trinckets, wherewith they are attired, there is not one but serues to some necessary purpose. And (ô Lord) to see the admirable power and noble effects of Loue, whereby the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-harted thing vnto it, and (like a vertuous mistresse) not onely make it bow it selfe, but with it make it aspire to so high a Loue, as of the heauenly Poles; and thereby to bring foorth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their conceats with confirming their knowledge, seing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from Land-seruice, they had for a day and almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainement, as the falsest hart could giue to him he meanes worst to.
But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden shewe of a good meaning, there arose euen with the Sun, a vaile of darke cloudes before his face, which shortly (like inck powred into water) had blacked ouer all the face of heauen; preparing (as it were) a mournefull stage for a Tragedie to be plaied on- For forthwith the windes began to speake lowder, and as in a tumultuous kingdome, to thinke themselues fittest instruments of commaundement; and blowing whole stormes of hayle and raine vpon them, they were sooner in daunger, then they could almost bethinke themselues of chaunge. For then the traiterous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Nauie, vnder which (while the heauen fauoured them) it had layne so calmely, making mountaines of it selfe, ouer which the tossed and tottring ship should clime, to be streight carried downe againe to a pit of hellish darkenesse; with such cruell blowes against the sides of the shippe (that which way soeuer it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so disseuered the louing companie, which the daie before had tarried together, that most of them neuer met againe, but were swallowed vp in his neuer-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was knowne) after long wandring returned into Thessalia; other recouered Bizantium, and serued Euarchus in his warre. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune failes them) though they employed all industrie to saue themselues, yet what they did was rather for dutie to nature, then hope to escape. So ougly a darkenesse, as if it would preuent the nights comming, vsurped the dayes right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, alwayes with horrible noyses of the chafing winds) made the masters and pilots so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) heare their owne whistle. For the sea straue with the winds which should be lowder, and the shrouds of the ship with a ghastfull noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruine was the wager of the others contention, and the heauen roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as hauing those powers for enimies. Certainely there is no daunger carries with it more horror, then that which growes in those floting kingdomes. For that dwelling place is vnnaturall to mankind, and then the terriblenesse of the continuall motion, the desolation of the far-being from comfort, the eye and the eare hauing ougly images euer before it, doth still vex the minde, euen when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storme, as they thought it best with striken sailes to yeeld to be gouerned by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismayednesse, and yet the fearefullest ashamed fully to shewe it, seeing that the Princes (who were to parte from the greatest fortunes) did in theyr countenances accuse no point of feare, but encouraging them to doo what might be done (putting their hands to euerie most painefull office) taught them at one instant to promise themselues the best, and yet to despise the worst. But so were they carryed by the tyrannie of the winde, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it shewed it selfe towards them: till the next morning (knowne to be a morning better by the houre-glasse, then by the day cleerenesse) hauing runne fortune as blindly, as it selfe euer was painted, lest the conclusion should not aunswere to the rest of the play, they were driuen vpon a rocke: which hidden with those outragious waues, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruell mind, till with an vnbeleeued violence (but to them that haue tried it) the shippe ranne vpon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to haue her course stayed, redoubled her blowes, till she had broken her selfe in peeces; and as it were tearing out her owne bowels to feede the seas greedinesse, left nothing within it but despaire of safetie, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seene the diuerse manner of minds in distresse: some sate vpon the top of the poupe weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then feare of death, cut his owne throate to preuent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heauens could not be more angrie then they were. But a monstrous crie begotten of manie roaring voices, was able to infect with feare a minde that had not preuented it with the power of reason.
But the Princes vsing the passions of fearing euill, and desiring to escape, only to serue the rule of vertue, not to abandon ones selfe, lept to a ribbe of the ship, which broken from his fellowes, floted with more likelyhood to doo seruice, then any other limme of that ruinous bodie; vpon which there had gotten alreadie two brethren, well knowne seruants of theirs; and streight they foure were carryed out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the ship. But the peece they were on sinking by little and little vnder them, not able to support the weight of so manie, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) shewed themselues right faithfull and gratefull seruants vnto them; gratefull (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had bene taken prisoners in the great warre the king of Phrygia made vpon Thessalia , in the time of Musidorus his infancie; and hauing beene solde into another countrie (though peace fell after betweene these Realmes) could not be deliuered, because of their valor knowne, but for a farre greater summe, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expences her selfe and people had bene put to in those warres; and so had they remained in prison about thirteene yeares, when the two young Princes (hearing speaches of their good deserts) found meanes both by selling all the Iewels they had of great price, and by giuing vnder their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their vertue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captiuitie. This remembred, and kindly remembred by these two brothers, perchance helped by a naturall duetie to their Princes blood, they willingly left holde of the boord, committing themselues to the seas rage, and euen when they mente to dye, themselues praying for the Princes liues. It is true, that neither the paine nor daunger, so moued the Princes hartes as the tendernesse of that louing part, farre from glorie, hauing so few lookers on; farre from hope of reward, since themselues were sure to perish.
But now of all the royall Nauie they lately had, they had left but one little peece of one ship, whereon they kept themselues in all trueth, hauing enterchanged their cares, while either cared for other, ech comforting and councelling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carryed by the tide (which there seconded by the storme ran exceeding swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well vpon the boord, as he would with his right hand haue helped him on better, he had no sooner vnfastned his hold, but that a waue forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then carelesse of death, if it had come by any meanes, but his owne) was shortly brought out of the seas furie to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter vnto him. And bitter indeed it fell out euen in it selfe to be vnto him.
For being cast on land much brused and beaten both with the Seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and euen almost deadly tired with the length of his vncomfortable labour, as he was walking vp to discouer some bodie, to whom he might goe for reliefe, there came streight running vnto him certaine, who (as it was after knowne) by appointment watched (with manie others) in diuerse places along the coast: who laide handes of him, and without either questioning with him, or shewing will to heare him, (like men fearefull to appeare curious) or which was worse hauing no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wet and weake) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principall officer of that countrie. Who with no more ciuilitie (though with much more busines then those vnder-fellowes had shewed) began in captious manner to put interrogatories vnto him. To which he (vnused to such entertainment) did shortlie and plainely aunswere, what he was, and how he came thither. But that no sooner knowne, with numbers of armed men to garde him (for mischiefe, not from mischiefe) he was sent to the Kings court, which as then was not aboue a dayes iourney off, with letters from that officer, containing his owne seruiceable diligence in discouering so great a personage; adding withall more then was true of his coniectures, because he would endeare his owne seruice.
This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whome he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of bodie & mind; wickedly sad, euer musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of euill, because his minde had no eye to espie goodnesse: and therefore accusing Sycophantes, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming Sycophantes, because of no euill they said, they could bring any new or doubtfull thing vnto him, but such as alreadie he had bene apt to determine; so as they came but as proofes of his wisedome: fearefull and neuer secure; while the feare he had figured in his minde had any possibilitie of euent. A tode-like retyrednesse, and closenesse of minde; nature teaching the odiousnesse of poyson, and the daunger of odiousnesse. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fullie discouered) made him something the more frequentable, and lesse daungerous. But after that yeares began to come on with some, though more seldome shewes of a bloudie nature, and that the prophecie of Musidorus destenie came to his eares (deliuered vnto him, and receiued of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subiects did delight in the hearing thereof.) Then gaue he himselfe indeede to the full currant of his disposition, especially after the warre of Thessalia, wherein (though in trueth wrongly) he deemed, his vnsuccesse proceeded of their vnwillingnes to haue him prosper: and then thinking himselfe contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing passe which might beare the colour of a fault, without sharp punishment: and when he wanted faults, excellencie grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guiltie, that he had power to be guiltie. And as there is no humour, to which impudent pouertie cannot make it selfe seruiceable, so were there enow of those of desperate ambition, who would build their houses vpon others ruines, which after should fall by like practises. So as seruitude came mainly vpon that poore people, whose deedes were not onely punished, but words corrected, and euen thoughts by some meane or other puld out of them: while suspition bred the mind of crueltie, and the effects of crueltie stirred a new cause of suspition. And in this plight (full of watchfull fearefulnes) did the storme deliuer sweete Pyrocles to the stormie minde of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenaunce deserued both pitie and admiration) condemning themselues as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.
But when this bloudy King knew what he was, and in what order he and his cosin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because euer thinking the worst) that those forces were prouided against him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in publique sort to put Pyrocles to death. For hauing quite lost the way of noblenes, he straue to clime to the height of terriblenes; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemie, who would not spare, nor feare to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, hauing nothing in him why to make him his friend, he thought, he woulde take him away, from being his enemie. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruell blow, in so solemne an order, as if they would set foorth tyranny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of inuincible valour, yet so vniustly subiected to such outragious wrong, carrying himself in all his demeanure so constantly, abiding extremitie, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying vertue in his sweetest grouth.
But so it fell out that his death was preuented by a rare example of friendship in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had bene taken vp by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdome of Pontus; and being there, and vnderstanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigall of so notable an accident) in what case Pyrocles was; learning withall, that his hate was farre more to him then to Pyrocles, hee found meanes to acquaint him selfe with a noble-man of that Countrie, to whome largely discouering what he was, he found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this noble-man had bene one, who in many warres had serued Euarchus, and had bene so mind-striken by the beautie of vertue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subiect) he euer profest himselfe his seruaunt. His desire therefore to him was, to keepe Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia vnderstand, that if he would deliuer Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put him selfe into his hands: knowing well, that how thirstie so euer he was of Pyrocles bloud, he would rather drinke that of Musidorus.
The Nobleman was loath to preserue one by the losse of another, but time vrging resolution: the importunitie of Musidorus (who shewed a minde not to ouer-liue Pyrocles) with the affection he bare to Euarchus, so preuayled, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.
And so vpon securitie of both sides, they were enterchanged. Where I may not omitte the worke of friendshippe in Pyrocles, who both in speache and countenance to Musidorus, well shewed, that he thought himselfe iniured, and not releeued by him: asking him, what he had euer seene in him, why he could not beare the extremities of mortall accidentes as well as any man: and why he should enuie him the glorie of suffering death for his friendes cause, and (as it were) robbe him of his owne possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerers destruction, and safetie the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus preuayled: because he was a more welcome praie to the vniust King, and as chearefully going towardes, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromward his death, he was deliuered to the King, who could not be inough sure of him, without he fed his owne eies vpon one, whom he had begon to feare, as soone as the other began to be.
Yet because he would in one acte, both make ostentation of his owne felicitie (into whose hands his most feared enemie was fallen) and withall cut of such hopes from his suspected subiects (when they should knowe certainly he was dead) with much more skilfull crueltie, and horrible solemnitie he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyrannie. And so the day being come, he was led foorth by many armed men (who often had beene the fortifiers of wickednes) to the place of execution: where comming with a minde comforted in that he had done such seruice to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.
The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner deliuered by the kings seruants to a place of liberty, then he bent his witte and courage, (and what would not they bring to passe?) how ether to deliuer Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that countrie no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himselfe to die with him, (little hoping of better euent) he put himselfe in poore rayment, and by the helpe of some few crownes he tooke of that noble-man, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secrete of his intent, suffered him to goe in such order from him) he (euen he, borne to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest bloud that any Prince might be) submitted himselfe to be seruant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a farre notabler proofe of his friendship, considering the height of his minde, then any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being araied fit for such an estate, and hauing his beautie hidden by many foule spots he artificially put vpon his face, gaue him leaue not onely to weare a sworde himselfe, but to beare his sworde prepared for the iustified murther. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was vpon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest, as allowed to say something) he stept vnto him, and putting the sworde into his hande not bound (a point of ciuility the officers vsed towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, neuer man betweene ioy before knowledge what to be glad of, and feare after considering his case, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I saw Pyrocles , so neare me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembraunce of that plight he was in) forgotten in speaking of himselfe to vse the third person. But Musidorus turned againe her thoughts from his cheekes to his tongue in this sort: But (said he) when they were with swordes in handes, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was no place of defence) but making it a preseruation in not hoping to be preserued, and now acknowledging themselues subiect to death, meaning onely to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst them all (for all were enimies) and had quickly either with flight or death, left none vpon the scaffold to annoy them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond beliefe, as was hable to leade Musidorus to courage, though he had bene borne a coward. But indeed, iust rage and desperate vertue did such effects, that the popular sort of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortall power. But the King with angry threatnings from-out a window (where he was not ashamed, the world should behold him a beholder) commaunded his gard, and the rest of his souldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to loose their soules, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.
But as they were still fighting with weake armes, and strong harts, it happened, that one of the souldiers (commaunded to go vp after his fellowes against the Princes) hauing receiued a light hurt, more wounded in his hart, went backe with as much diligence, as he came vp with modestie: which another of his fellowes seeing, to pike a thanke of the King, strake him vpon the face, reuiling him, that so accompanied, he would runne away from so fewe. But he (as many times it falls out) onely valiant, when he was angrie, in reuenge thrust him through: which with his death was streight reuenged by a brother of his: and that againe requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the souldiers; which seene, and not vnderstood by the people (vsed to feares but not vsed to be bolde in them) some began to crie treason; and that voice streight multiplying it selfe, the King (O the cowardise of a guiltie conscience) before any man set vpon him, fled away. Where-with a bruit (either by arte of some well meaning men, or by such chaunce as such things often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slaine; wherewith certaine yong men of the brauest mindes, cried with lowde voice, Libertie; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set vpon the garde, and souldiers as chiefe instruments of Tyrannie: and quickly, aided by the Princes, they had left none of them aliue, nor any other in the cittie, who they thought had in any sort set his hand to the worke of their seruitude, and (God knowes) by the blindnesse of rage, killing many guiltles persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmitie to the tyrant-killers. But some of the wiser (seeing that a popular licence is indeede the many-headed tyranny) preuailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chiefe: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defend them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom foorthwith they lifted vp, Fortune (I thinke) smiling at her worke therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.
But by and by there came newes of more certaine truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, neere hand, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppresse this mutinie. But now they had run themselues too farre out of breath, to go backe againe the same career; and too well they knew the sharpnesse of his memorie to forget such an iniury; therefore learning vertue of necessitie, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who seing what forces were in the citie, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practises might be vsed to disseuer them: and with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to preuaile by time, (knowing and finding his peoples hate) met him with little delay in the field: where him selfe was slaine by Musidorus, after he had seene his onely sonne (a Prince of great courage & beautie, but fostred in bloud by his naughty Father) slaine by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obteined, with great, and truly not vndeserued honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gaue the crowne and all other markes of soueraigntie to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to liue vnder such a gouernment, as they promised themselues of him.
But he thinking it a greater greatnes to giue a kingdome, then get a kingdome; vnderstanding that there was left of the bloud Roiall, and next to the succession, an aged Gentleman of approued goodnes (who had gotten nothing by his cousins power, but danger from him, and odiousnes for him) hauing past his time in modest secrecy, and asmuch from entermedling in matters of gouernment, as the greatnesse of his bloud would suffer him, did (after hauing receiued the full power to his owne hands) resigne all to the noble-man: but with such conditions, and cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurance as worldly matters beare) that not onely that gouernour, of whom indeed they looked for all good, but the nature of the gouernment, should be no way apt to decline to Tyranny.
This dooing set foorth no lesse his magnificence, then the other act did his magnanimitie: so that greatly praysed of all, and iustly beloued of the new King, who in all both wordes and behauiour protested him selfe their Tenaunt, and Liegeman, they were drawne thence to reuenge those two seruants of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellent Princesse) in willingly giuing themselues to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but gat with painefull swimming vpon a rocke: from whence (after being come as neere famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking vp, they were brought to the maine land of Pontus; the same country vpon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so luckie a place.
For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorow suspition, greedines, or reuengefulnes, as he of Phrygia , but (as I may terme it) of a wanton crueltie: inconstant in his choise of friends, or rather neuer hauing a friend, but a playfellow; of whom when he was wearie, he could not otherwise rid himselfe, then by killing them: giuing somtimes prodigally, not because he loued them to whom he gaue, but because he lusted to giue: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those vertues which were not in him, at length making his vices vertues worthy the flattering: with like iudgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischiefe.
He chanced at that time (for indeed long time none lasted with him) to haue next in vse about him, a man of the most enuious disposition, that (I think) euer infected the aire with his breath: whose eies could not looke right vpon any happie man, nor eares beare the burthen of any bodies praise: contrary to the natures of all other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happines the ground of his vnhappinesse, & good news the argumet of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose fauour no man could winne, but by being miserable. And so, because these two faithfull seruants of theirs came in miserable sorte to that Courte, he was apte inough at first to fauour them; and the King vnderstanding of their aduenture, (wherein they had shewed so constant a faith vnto their Lordes) suddainly falles to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite prayses, and praysing him selfe in his harte, in that he praysed them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when aduauncement (the most mortall offence to enuy) stirred vp their former friend, to ouerthrow his owne worke in them; taking occasion vpon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late death of the King of Phrygia destroied by their two Lordes, who hauing bene a neere kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this enuious Councellour, partly with suspition of practise, partly with glory of in-part reuenging his cousins death, the King was suddainly turned, (and euery turne with him was a downe-fall) to locke them vp in prison, as seruaunts to his enimies, whom before he had neuer knowne, nor (till that time one of his owne subiects had entertained and dealt for them) did euer take heed of. But now earnest in euery present humour, and making himselfe braue in his liking, he was content to giue them iust cause of offence, when they had power to make iust reuenge. Yet did the Princes send vnto him before they entred into warre, desiring their seruants liberty. But he swelling in their humblenes, (like a bubble blowne vp with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or neuer knowing humanitie, caused their heads to be striken off, by the aduice of his enuious Councellor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw their happines in hauing such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with vnroyall reproches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traiterously, and not heroically in killing his tyrannicall Cosen.
But that iniurie went beyond all degree of reconcilement; so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdome wholy at their commandement, by the loue of the people, and gratefulnesse of the King) they entred his country; and wholy conquering it (with such deeds as at lest Fame said were excellent) tooke the King; and by Musidorus commaundement (Pyrocles hart more enclining to pitie) he was slaine vpon the tombe of their two true Seruants; which they caused to be made for them with royall expences, and notable workmanship to preserue their dead liues. For his wicked Seruant he should haue felt the like, or worse, but that his harte brake euen to death with the beholding the honour done to their dead carcasses. There might Pyrocles quietly haue enioyed that crowne, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had reuolted vnto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a faire and well esteemed Ladie) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brothers ruines, gaue her in marriage to the noble man his fathers old friend, and endowed them with the crowne of that kingdome. And not content with those publike actions, of princely, and (as it were) gouerning vertue, they did (in that kingdome and some other neere about) diuers acts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruell monsters, and monstrous men: all which in short time by priuate combats they deliuered the countries of.
Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatnesse and force, therefore commonly called Giants, who kept themselues in a castle seated vpon the top of a rocke, impregnable, because there was no comming vnto it, but by one narrow path, where one mans force was able to keepe downe an armie. These brothers had a while serued the King of Pontus, and in all his affaires (especially of war, whereunto they were onely apt) they had shewed, as vnconquered courage, so a rude faithfulnes: being men indeed by nature apter to the faults of rage, then of deceipt; not greatly ambitious, more then to be well and vprightly dealt with; rather impatient of iniury, then delighted with more then ordinary curtesies; and in iniuries more sensible of smart or losse, then of reproch or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainely Iewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to performe) yet were discarded by that vnworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more euidet to the; because it sodainly fell from an excesse of fauor, which (many examples hauing taught them) neuer stopt his race till it came to an headlong ouerthrow: they ful of rage, retyred theselues vnto this castle. Where thinking nothing iuster the reuenge, nor more noble then the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) full of inward brauery and fiercenes, scarcely in the glasse of Reason, thinking it selfe faire, but when it is terrible, they immediately gaue themselues to make all the countrie about them (subiect to that King) to smart for their Lords folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with vse of euill, growing more and more euill, they tooke delight in slaughter, and pleased themselues in making others wracke the effect of their power: fo that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a seruiceable power of the minde to doo publike good; so now vnbridled, and blinde iudge of it selfe, it made wickednesse violent, and praised it selfe in excellencie of mischiefe; almost to the ruine of the countrie, not greatly regarded by their carelesse and louelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in crueltie, as not to be reclaimed, secretly vndertooke the matter alone: for accompanied they would not haue suffered them to haue mounted; and so those great fellowes scornefully receiuing them, as foolish birds falne into their net, it pleased the eternall iustice to make them suffer death by their hands: and so they were manifoldly acknowledged the sauers of that countrie.
It were the part of a verie idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-deuised honors done vnto them: But as high honor is not onely gotten and borne by paine, and daunger, but must be nurst by the like, or els vanisheth as soone as it appeares to the world: so the naturall hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to account a resting seate of that, which euer either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one occasion beget another; wherby his doings might send his praise to others mouthes to rebound againe true contentment to his spirit. And therefore hauing well established those kingdomes, vnder good gouernours, and rid them by their valure of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in vnknowne order to see more of the world, and to imploy those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankinde; and therefore would themselues (vnderstanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his warres) goe priuately to seeke exercises of their vertue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to Heroycall effects by fortune, or necessitie, (like Vlysses and Aeneas) as by ones owne choice, and working. And so went they away from verie vnwilling people to leaue them, making time haste it selfe to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witnesse to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they ridde alone armed, (for alone they went, one seruing the other) they mette an aduenture; which though not so notable for any great effect they perfourmed, yet worthy to be remembred for the vn-vsed examples therein, as well of true naturall goodnes, as of wretched vngratefulnesse.
It was in the kingdome of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then sodainely growne to so extreame and foule a storme, that neuer any winter (I thinke) brought foorth a fowler child: so that the Princes were euen compelled by the haile, that the pride of the winde blew into their faces, to seeke some shrowding place which a certaine hollow rocke offering vnto them, they made it their shield against the tempests furie. And so staying there, till the violence thereof was passed, they heard the speach of a couple, who not perceiuing them (being hidde within that rude canapy) helde a straunge and pitifull disputation which made them steppe out; yet in such sort, as they might see vnseene. There they perceaued an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorely arayed, extreamely weather-beaten; the olde man blinde, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both there seemed to appeare a kinde of noblenesse, not sutable to that affliction. But the first words they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot perswade thee to leade mee to that which should end my griefe, and thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leaue me: feare not, my miserie cannot be greater then it is, and nothing doth become me but miserie; feare not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse then I am. And doo not I pray thee, doo not obstinately continue to infect thee with my wretchednes. But flie, flie from this region, onely worthy of me. Deare father (answered he) doo not take away from me the onely remnant of my happinesse: while I haue power to doo you seruice, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my sonne (said he, and with that he groned, as if sorrow straue to breake his harte,) how euill fits it me to haue such a sonne, and how much doth thy kindnesse vpbraide my wickednesse? These dolefull speeches, and some others to like purpose (well shewing they had not bene borne to the fortune they were in,) moued the Princes to goe out vnto them, and aske the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreable by a certaine noble kinde of pitiousnes) I see well you are straungers, that know not our miserie so well here knowne, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deede our state is such, as though nothing is so needfull vnto vs as pittie, yet nothing is more daungerous vnto vs, then to make our selues so knowne as may stirre pittie. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not ouer-runne hate. And if it did, in truth our state is soncke below the degree of feare.
This old man (whom I leade) was lately rightfull Prince of this countrie of Paphlagonia, by the hard-harted vngratefulnes of a sonne of his, depriued, not onely of his kingdome (whereof no forraine forces were euer able to spoyle him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature graunts to the poorest creatures. Whereby, and by other his vnnaturall dealings, he hath bin driuen to such griefe, as euen now he would haue had me to haue led him to the toppe of this rocke, thence to cast himselfe headlong to death: and so would haue made me (who receiued my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either of you haue a father, and feele what duetifull affection is engraffed in a sonnes hart, let me entreate you to conuay this afflicted Prince to some place of rest and securitie. Amongst your worthie actes it shall be none of the least, that a King, of such might and fame, and so vniustlie oppressed, is in any sort by you relieued.
But before they coulde make him aunswere, his father began to speake. Ah my sonne (said he) how euill an Historian are you, that leaue out the chiefe knot of all the discourse? my wickednes, my wickednes. And if thou doest it to spare my ears, (the onely sense now left mee proper for knowledge) assure thy selfe thou doest mistake me. And I take witnesse of that Sunne which you see (with that he cast vp his blinde eies, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish my selfe in worse case then I doe wish my selfe, which is as euill as may bee, if I speake vntruely; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whome from my heart I wish that it may not proue some ominous foretoken of misfortune to haue met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoeuer my sonne (ô God, that truth bindes me to reproch him with the name of my son) hath saide, is true. But besides those truthes, this also is true, that hauing had in lawfull mariage, of a mother fitte to beare roiall children, this sonne (such a one as partly you see, and better shall knowe by my short declaration) and so enioyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was growen to iustifie their expectations (so as I needed enuie no father for the chiefe comfort of mortalitie, to leaue an other ones-selfe after me) I was caried by a bastard sonne of mine (if at least I bee bounde to beleeue the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, or to doo my best to destroy, this sonne (I thinke you thinke) vndeseruing destruction. What waies be vsed to bring me to it, if I shoulde tell you, I shoulde tediouslie trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisie, desperate fraude, smooth malice, hidden ambition, and smiling enuie, as in any liuing person could be harbored. But I list it not; no remembraunce, of naughtinesse delightes me, but mine owne; and me thinkes, the accusing his trappes might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainelie I loth to doo. But the conclusion is, that I gaue order to some seruauntes of mine, whome I thought as apte for such charities as my selfe, to lead him out into a forrest, and there to kill him.
But those theeues (better natured to my sonne then my selfe) spared his life, letting him goe, to learne to liue poorelie: which he did, giuing himselfe to be a priuate souldier, in a countrey here by. But as hee was ready to be greatlie aduaunced for some noble peeces of seruice which he did, he heard newes of me: who (dronke in my affection to that vnlawfull and vnnaturall sonne of mine) suffered my selfe so to be gouerned by him, that all fauours and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his fauorites; so that ere I was aware, I had left my selfe nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly wearie of too, with manie indignities (if any thing may be called an indignitie, which was laide vppon me) threw me out of my seate, and put out my eies; and then (proud in his tirannie) let me goe, neither imprisoning, nor killing me: but rather delighting to make me feele my miserie; miserie in deede, if euer there were any; full of wretchednesse, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltines. And as he came to the crowne by so vniust meanes, as vniustlie he kept it, by force of straunger souldiers in Cittadels, the nestes of tirannie, and murderers of libertie; disarming all his own countrimen, that no man durst shew himselfe a well-willer of mine; to say the truth (I thinke) few of them being so (considering my cruell folly to my good sonne, and foolish kindnesse to my vnkinde bastard:) but if there were any who felt a pitty of so great a fall, and had yet any sparkes of vnslaine duety lefte in them towardes me; yet durst they not shewe it, scarcely with giuing mee almes at their doores; which yet was the onely sustenaunce of my distressed life, no body daring to shewe so much charitie, as to lende mee a hande to guide my darke steppes: Till this sonne of mine (God knowes, woorthy of a more vertuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abhominable wronges, not recking daunger, and neglecting the present good way hee was in of doing himselfe good, came hether to doo this kinde office you see him performe towardes me, to my vnspeakeable griefe; not only because his kindnes is a glasse euen to my blind eies, of my naughtines, but that aboue all griefes, it greeues me he should desperatlie aduenture the losse of his well deseruing life for mine, that yet owe more to fortune for my deserts, as if hee would cary mudde in a chest of christall. For well I know, he that now raigneth, howe much so euer (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet hee will not let slippe any aduantage to make away him, whose iust title (ennobled by courage and goodnes) may one day shake the seate of a neuer secure tyrannie. And for this cause I craued of him to leade mee to the toppe of this rocke, indeede I must confesse, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, onely therein since hee was borne, shewed himselfe disobedient vnto mee. And now gentlemen, you haue the true storie, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischieuous proceedinges may bee the glorie of his filiall pietie, the onely reward now left for so great a merite. And if it may be, let me obtaine that of you, which my sonne denies me: for neuer was there more pity in sauing any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall ende, and so shall you preserue this excellent young man, who els wilfully followes his owne ruine.
The matter in it selfe lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himselfe the gestures of pitie, since his face coulde not put of the markes thereof) greatly moued the two Princes to compassion, which coulde not stay in such harts as theirs without seeking remedie. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) came thether with fortie horse, onely of purpose to murder this brother; of whose comming he had soone aduertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credite in such a matter, but his owne; and therefore came himselfe to be actor, and spectator. And as soone as hee came, not regarding the weake (as hee thought) garde of but two men, commaunded some of his followers to set their handes to his, in the killing of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sworde) howe falsely soeuer he was dealt with by others, would not betray him selfe: but brauely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assayled him, warne his fellowes to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so iust a defence deseruing as much as old friendship) and so did behaue them among that companie (more iniurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their liues for their wicked maister.
Yet perhaps had the number of them at last preuailed, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come vnlooked for to their succour. Who (hauing had a dreame which had fixt his imagination vehemently vpon some great daunger presently to follow those two Princes whom hee most dearely loued) was come in al hast, following as wel as he could their track with a hundreth horses in that countrie, which he thought (considering who then raigned) a fitte place inough to make the stage of any Tragedie.
But then the match had beene so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, and worse gotten honour should haue tumbled together to destruction; had there not come in Tydeus and Telenor , with forty or fifty in their suite, to the defence of Plexirtus . These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought vppe from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowesse, as not to knowe feare in themselues, and yet to teach it others that shoulde deale with them: for they had often made their liues triumph ouer most terrible daungers; neuer dismaied, and euer fortunate; and truely no more setled in valure, then disposed to goodnes and iustice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could haue learned to make friendship a childe, and not the father of Vertue. But bringing vp (rather then choise) hauing first knit their mindes vnto him, (indeede crafty inough, either to hide his faultes, or neuer to shewe them, but when they might pay home) they willingly helde out the course, rather to satisfie him, then all the worlde; and rather to be good friendes, then good men: so as though they did not like the euill hee did, yet they liked him that did the euill; and though not councellors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they hauing heard of this sodaine going out, with so small a company, in a countrey full of euill-wishing mindes toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they founde him in such case as they were to venture their liues, or else he to loose his: which they did with such force of minde and bodie, that truely I may iustly say, Pyrocles and Musidorus had neuer till then found any, that could make them so well repeate their hardest lesson in the feates of armes. And briefly so they did, that if they ouercame not; yet were they not ouercome, but caried away that vngratefull maister of theirs to a place of security; howsoeuer the Princes laboured to the contrary. But this matter being thus farre begun, it became not the constancy of the Princes so to leaue it; but in all hast making forces both in Pontus and Phrigia, they had in fewe daies, lefte him but onely that one strong place where he was. For feare hauing beene the onely knot that had fastned his people vnto him, that once vntied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birdes, whose cage had beene broken.
In which season the blinde King (hauing in the chiefe cittie of his Realme, set the crown vppon his son Leonatus head) with many teares (both of ioy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his owne fault and his sonnes vertue, after he had kist him, and forst his sonne to accept honour of him (as of his new-become subiect) euen in a moment died, as it should seeme: his heart broken with vnkindenes and affliction, stretched so farre beyond his limits with this excesse of comfort, as it was able no longer to keepe safe his vitall spirites. But the new King (hauing no lesse louingly performed all dueties to him dead, then aliue) pursued on the siege of his vnnaturall brother, asmuch for the reuenge of his father, as for the establishing of his owne quiet. In which siege truely I cannot but acknowledge the prowesse of those two brothers, then whome the Princes neuer found in all their trauaile two of greater hability to performe, nor of habler skil for conduct.
But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humblenes to creepe, where by pride he coulde not marche. For certainely so had nature formed him, and the exercise of craft conformed him to all turningnes of of sleights, that though no man had lesse goodnes in his soule then he, no man could better find the places whence arguments might grow of goodnesse to another: though no man felt lesse pitie, no man could tel better how to stir pitie: no man more impudent to deny, where proofes were not manifest; no man more ready to confesse with a repenting manner of aggrauating his owne euill, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he tooke this way that hauing gotten a pasport for one (that pretended he woulde put Plexirtus aliue into his hands) to speake with the King his brother, he him selfe (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in braue defence) with a rope about his necke, barefooted, came to offer himselfe to the discretion of Leonatus. Where what submission hee vsed, how cunningly in making greater the faulte he made the faultines the lesse, how artificially he could set out the torments of his owne conscience, with the burdensome comber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to liue, he begd life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning inough to be able to expresse: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus saw him with no other eie, then as the murderer of his father; and anger already began to paint reuenge in many colours, ere long he had not onely gotten pitie, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the faulte past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poore villaines (chiefe ministers of his wickednes, now betraied by the author thereof,) were deliuered to many cruell sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, hee had more come into the defence of an vnremediable mischiefe already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.
In such sort the Princes left these reconciled brothers (Plexirtus in all his behauiour carying him in far lower degree of seruice, then the euer-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) and taking likewise their leaues of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enioy their benefite, both of his wife and kingdome) they priuately went thence, hauing onely with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompanie them, through diuers places; they foure dooing actes more daungerous, though lesse famous, because they were but priuat chiualries: till hearing of the faire and vertuous Queene Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselues to her succour, both because the weaker (and weaker as being a Ladie,) and partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men liuing, for matters of armes, that were knowne to be in the worlde. Whereof one was the Prince Plangus, (whose name was sweetned by your breath, peerlesse Ladie, when the last daie it pleased you to mention him vnto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giant-like bothe hugenes and force: in which two especially, the trust the King had of victorie, was reposed. And of them, those brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient iudges in warlike matters) spake so high commendations, that the two Princes had euen a youthfull longing to haue some triall of their vertue. And therefore as soone as they were entred into Lycia they ioyned themselues with the that faithfully serued the poore Queene, at that time besieged: & ere long animated in such sort their almost ouerthrowne harts, that they went by force to relieue the towne, though they were depriued of a great part of their stregth by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all hast to returne to their old friend and maister, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselues from seeing his faultes, and binding themselues to beleeue what he said) often abused the vertue of courage to defend his fowle vice of iniustice. But now they were sent for to aduaunce a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the deliuerie of the Queene Erona.
I haue heard (saide Pamela) that parte of the story of Plangus when hee passed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) passe ouer that warre of Eronaes quarrell, lest if you speake too much of warre matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broile. He looked, and saw that Mopsa indeede sat swallowing of sleepe with open mouth, making such a noise withall, as no bodie could lay the stealing of a nappe to her charge. Whereupon, willing to vse that occasion, he kneeled downe, and with humble-hartednesse, and hardy earnestnes printed in his graces, Alas (said he) diuine Lady, who haue wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (none of the basest) to thinke all principalities base, in respect of the sheephooke, which may hold him vp in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to heare in direct words my humble sute, while this dragon sleepes, that keeps the golden fruite. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination faine to my selfe any thing which may bee the lest spot to that heauenly vertue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternall powers, that the words I speake may be deadly poysons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may onely worke their owne confusion. But if loue, loue of you, loue of your vertues, seeke onely that fauour of you, which becommeth that gratefulnes, which cannot misbecome your excellencie, O doo not: He would haue said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she sodainly start vp, staggering, and rubbing her eies, ran first out of the doore, and then backe to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she came in againe: till at length, being fully come to her little selfe, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might heare some tales of your seruants telling and: therfore now (said she Dorus go on.
But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) was returning to the story of himselfe, Philoclea came in, and by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were faine to let Dorus departe. But Pamela (delighted euen to preserue in her memory, the words of so well a beloued speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and gone, to recreate themselues something, (euen tyred with the noysomnes of Misos conuersation) they determyned to goe (while the heate of the day lasted) to bath themselues (such being the manner of the Arcadian nymphes often to doo) in the riuer of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them vnder some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to passe by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stale down after them: which shee might the better doo because that Gynecia was sicke, and Basilius (that day being his birth-day) according to his maner, was busie about his deuotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to finde some time to speake with Philoclea : but not a word could shee beginne, but that Miso would bee one of the audience; so that shee was driuen to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently perfourmed her trust, till they came to the riuers side which of all the riuers of Greece had the price for excellent purenesse and sweetenesse, in so much as the verie bathing in it, was accounted exceeding healthfull. It ranne vpon so fine and delicate a ground, as one coulde not easely iudge, whether the Riuer did more wash the grauell, or the grauell did purifie the Riuer; the Riuer not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streames would returne to their spring, or that the Riuer had a delight to play with it selfe. The banckes of either side seeming armes of the louing earth, that faine woulde embrace it; and the Riuer a wanton nymph which still would slippe from it: either side of the bancke being fringed with most beautifull trees, which resisted the sunnes dartes from ouer-much pearcing the naturall coldnes of the Riuer. There was the But among the rest a goodly Cypres, who bowing her faire head ouer the water, it seemed she looked into it, & dressed her greene lockes, by that runing Riuer. There the Princesses determining to bathe theselus, though it was so priuiledged a place, vpo pain of death, as on bodie durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked roundabout, and could see nothing but a water spaniell, who came downe the riuer showing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well preuaile thorow the water, as thorow the aire; & therefore wayting with his eye, to see whether he could espie the duckes getting vp againe: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the riuer, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to vse it) inweeded himselfe so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulnesse: & inuiting Zelmane also to wash her selfe with them, & she excusing her selfe with hauing take a late cold, they bega by peece-meale to take away the eclipsing of their apparel.
Zelmane would haue put to her helping hand, but she was taken with such a quiuering, that shee thought it more wisedome to leane herselfe to a tree and looke on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure siluer of their bodies out of the vre of their garments. But as the rayments went of to receaue kisses of the ground, Zelmane enuied the happinesse of all, but of the smocke was euen iealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Phileclea remained (for her Zelmane onely marked) like a Dyamon taken from out the rocke, or rather like the Sun getting from vnder a cloud, and shewing his naked beames to the full vew, then was the beautie too much for a patient sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceipt: so that Zelmane could not choose but runne, to touch, embrace and kisse her; But conscience made her come to her selfe, and leaue Philoclea , who blushing, and withall smiling, making shamefastnesse pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moued her feete, vnwonted to feele the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a prettie kinde of shrugging come ouer her bodie, like the twinckling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the Riuer it selfe gaue way vnto her, so that she was streight brest high; which was the deepest that there-about shee could be: & when cold Ladon had oncefully imbraced them, himselfe was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had bene heated with loue, so seemed he to play about euery part he could touch.
Ah sweete, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not stay thy course to haue more full tast of thy happines? But the reason is manifest, the vpper streames make such haste to haue their part of embracing, that the nether (though lothly) must needes giue place vnto them. O happie Ladon, within whom shee is, vpo whom her beautie fals, thorow whom her eye perceth. O happy Ladon , which art now an vnperfect mirror of all perfection, canst thou euer forget the blessednes of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine grauel, to weeds and mudde; if thou doo, let some vniust niggards make weres to spoile thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater riuer fall into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. Oh Ladon, happie Ladon, rather slide then run by her, lest thou shouldest make her legs slippe from her; and then, O happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies plaid them in the water, somtimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty bubbles, not to be content to haue the picture of their face in large vpon him, but he would in ech of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.
But Zelmane, whose sight was gaine-said by nothing but the transparent vaile of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heate encreased) had the coales of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blowne with delight, that now all her parts grudged, that her eyes should doo more homage, then they, to the Princesse of them. In so much that taking vp the Lute, her wit began to be with a diuine furie inspired; her voice would in so beloued an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes musicke to the voice; her panting hart daunced to the musicke; while I thinke her feete did beate the time; while her bodie was the roome where it should be celebrated; her soule the Queene which should be delighted. And so togither went the vtterance and the inuention, that one might iudge, it was Philocleas beautie which did speedily write it in her eyes; or the sense thereof, which did word by word endite it in her minde, whereto she (but as an organ) did onely lend vtterance. The song was to this purpose.
What toong can her perfections tell
In whose each part all pens may dwell?
Her haire fine threeds of finest gould
In curled knots mans thought to hold:
But that her fore-head sayes in me
A whiter beautie you may see.
Whiter indeed; more white then snow,
Which on cold winters face doth grow.
That doth present those euen browes,
Whose equall line their angles bowes,
Like to the Moone when after chaunge
Her horned head abroad doth raunge:
And arches be to heauenly lids,
Whose winke ech bold attempt forbids.
For the blacke starres those Spheares containe,
The matchlesse paire, euen praise doth staine.
No lampe, whose light by Art is got,
No Sunne, which shines; and seeth not,
Can liken them without all peere,
Saue one as much as other cleere:
Which onely thus vnhappie be,
Because themselues they cannot see.
Her cheekes with kindly claret spred.
Aurora like new out of bed,
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.
Her nose, her chinne pure iuorie weares:
No purer then the pretie eares.
So that therein appeares some blood,
Like wine and milke that mingled stood.
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,
Your eyes may tread a Louers maze.
But with such turnes the voice to stray,
No talke vntaught can finde the way.
The tippe no iewell needes to weare:
The tippe is iewell of the eare.
But who those ruddie lippes can misse?
Which blessed still themselues doo kisse.
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,
In worth, in taste, in perfit hewe:
Which neuer part but that they showe
Of pretious pearle the double rowe,
The second sweetly-fenced warde,
Her heau’nly-dewed tongue to garde.
Whence neuer word in vaine did flowe.
Faire vnder these doth stately growe,
The handle of this pretious worke,
The neck, in which strange graces lurke.
Such be I thinke the sumptuous towers
Which skill dooth make in Princes bowers.
So good a say inuites the eye,
A little downward to espie,
The liuelie clusters of her brests,
Of Venus babe the wanton nests:
Like pomels round of Marble cleere:
Where azurde veines well mixt appeere.
With dearest tops of porphyrie.
Betwixt these two a way doth lie,
Away more worthie beauties fame,
Then that which beares the Milkie name.
This leades into the ioyous field,
Which onely still doth Lillies yeeld:
But Lillies such whose natiue smell
The Indian odours doth excell.
Waste it is calde, for it doth waste
Mens liues, vntill it be imbraste.
There may one see, and yet not see
Her ribbes in white all armed be.
More white then Neptunes fomie face,
When strugling rocks he would imbrace.
In those delights the wandring thought
Might of each side astray be brought,
But that her nauel doth vnite,
In curious circle, busie sight:
A daintie seale of virgin-waxe,
Where nothing but impression lackes.
Her bellie then glad sight doth fill,
Iustly entitled Cupids hill.
A hill most fitte for such a master,
A spotlesse mine of Alablaster.
Like Alablaster faire and sleeke,
But soft and supple satten like.
In that sweete seate the Boy doth sport:
Loath, I must leaue his chiefe resort.
“For such a vse the world hath gotten,
The best things still must be forgotten.”
Yet neuer shall my song omitte
Hir thighes, for Ouids song more fitte;
Which flanked with two sugred flankes,
Lift vp their stately swelling bankes;
That Albion cliues in whitenes passe:
With hanches smooth as looking glasse.
But bow all knees, now of her knees
My tongue doth tell what fancie sees.
The knottes of ioy, the gemmes of loue,
Whose motion makes all graces moue.
Whose bought incau’d doth yeeld such sight,
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.
The gartring place with child-like signe,
Shewes easie print in mettall fine.
But then againe the flesh doth rise
In her braue calues, like christall skies.
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,
More white then whitest bone of all.
Thereout steales out that round cleane foote
This noble Cedars pretious roote:
In shewe and sent pale violets,
Whose steppe on earth all beautie sets.
But back vnto her back, my Muse,
Where Ledas swanne his feathers mewes,
Along whose ridge such bones are met,
Like comfits round in marchpane set.
Her shoulders be like two white Doues,
Pearching within square royall rooues,
Which leaded are with siluer skinne,
Passing the hate-spott Ermelin.
And thence those armes deriued are;
The Phoenix wings are not so rare
For faultlesse length, and stainelesse hewe,
Ah woe is me, my woes renewe;
Now course doth leade me to her hand,
Of my first loue the fatall band.
Where whitenes dooth for euer sitte:
Nature her selfe enameld it.
For there with strange compact dooth lie
Warme snow, moyst pearle, softe iuorie.
There fall those Saphir-coloured brookes,
Which conduit-like with curious crookes,
Sweete Ilands make in that sweete land.
As for the fingers of the hand,
The bloudy shaftes of Cupids warre,
With amatists they headed are.
Thus hath each part his beauties part,
But how the Graces doo impart
To all her limmes a speciall grace,
Becomming euery time and place.
Which doth euen beautie beautifie,
And most bewitch the wretched eye.
How all this is but a faire Inne
Of fairer guests, which dwell within.
Of whose high praise, and praisefull blisse,
Goodnes the penne, heauen paper is.
The inke immortall fame dooth lende:
As I began, so must I ende.
No tongue can her perfections tell,
In whose each part all tongues may dwell.
But as Zelmane was comming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniell which before had hunted, come and fetch away one of Philocleas gloues; whose fine proportion, shewed well what a daintie guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dogge was therewith delighted, and so let him goe a little way withall, who quickly caried it out of sight among certaine trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by and by he came againe, and amongst the raiments ( Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their comming out) the dog lighted vpon a little booke of four or fiue leaues of paper, and was bearing that away too. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importance it might be of) ran after the dog, who going streight to those bushes, she might see the dog deliuer it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Gentleman rose vp, and with a courteous (though sad) countenace presented himselfe vnto her. Zelmanes eies streight willed her minde to marke him: for she thought, in her life she had neuer seene a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making tooke not away delicacie, nor beautie fiercenesse: being indeed such a right manlike man, as Nature often erring, yet shewes she would faine make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) vewed him, she desired him to deliuer backe the gloue and paper, because they were the Ladie Philocleas; telling him withall, that she would not willingly let them know of his close lying in in that prohibited place, while they were bathing themselues; because she knew they would be mortally offended withall. Faire Ladie (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feele of my fault in my selfe the punishment. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldnes, not my presumption. With that he gaue her backe the paper: But for the gloue (said he) since it is my Ladie Philocleas, giue me leaue to keepe it, since my hart cannot persuade it selfe to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct my life to honour this gloue with seruing her. O villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an vnlooked-for Riuall, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliuer it, or by the life of her that owes it, I wil make thy soule (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drew out her sword, which (Amazon-like) she euer ware about her. The Gentleman retired himself into an open place fro among the bushes; and then drawing out his too, he offred to deliuer it vnto her, saying withall, God forbid I should vse my sword against you, since (if I be not deceiued) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Ladies iust title of beautie against the valiant Phalantus, and saued her life in killing the Lion: therefore I am rather to kisse your hands, with acknowledging my selfe bound to obey you. But this courtesie was worse then a bastonado to Zelmane: so that againe with ragefull eyes she bad him defend himselfe, for no lesse then his life should answere it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sword that lesson, which hath euer vsed to turne it selfe to a shield in a Ladies presence. But Zelmane harkening to no more words, began with such wittie furie to pursue him with blowes and thrusts, that Nature and Vertue commanded the Gentleman to looke to his safetie. Yet still courtesie, that seemed incorporate in his hart, would not be perswaded by daunger to offer any offence, but only to stand vpon the best defensiue gard he could; somtimes going backe, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardise; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning auoidings of his body; and somtimes faining some blows, which himself puld back before they needed to be withstood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that curtesie, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choller any motions, which might grow out of her owne sweet disposition, determining to kill him if he fought no better; and so redoubling her blowes, draue the stranger to no other shift, then to warde, and go backe; at that time seeming the image of innocencie against violence. But at length he found, that both in publike and priuate respects, who stands onely vpon defence, stands vpon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to warde it, withall stept backe as he was accustomed, she stopt her blow in the aire, and suddenly turning the point, ranne full at his breast; so as he was driuen with the pommell of his sworde (hauing no other weapon of defence) to beate it downe: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholy beate it awaie, but that it met with his thigh, thorow which it ranne. But Zelmane retiring her sworde, and seeing his bloud, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pittie; and hartily sorie, and euen ashamed with her selfe she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could haue done more. In so much that she said, truly I am sorie for your hurt, but your selfe gaue the cause, both in refusing to deliuer the gloue, and yet not fighting as I knowe you could haue done. But (saide shee) because I perceaue you disdayne to fight with a woman, it may be before a yeare come about, you shall meete with a neere kinsman of mine, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I giue you my worde, he for me shall maintaine this quarell against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurtes to meete and know that worthy Prince, whose vertue I loue and admire, though my good destiny hath not bene to see his person.
But as they were so speaking, the yong Ladies came, to whom Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behauiour) hauing followed and seene Zelmane fighting, had cried, what she had seene, while they were drying themselues, and the water (with some drops) seemed to weepe, that it should part from such bodies. But they carefull of Zelmane (assuring themselues that any Arcadian would beare reuerence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a louing (hastily hiding the beauties, whereof Nature was prowde, and they ashamed) they made quicke worke to come to saue Zelmane. But already they found them in talke, and Zelmane carefull of his wound. But whe they saw him they knew it was their cousin germain, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitternes they blamed for breaking their fathers commaundement, especially while themselues were in such sort retired. But he craued pardon, protesting vnto them that he had onely bene to seeke solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possest him, and guided to that place by his spaniell, where while the dog hunted in the riuer, he had withdrawne himselfe to pacifie with sleepe his ouer-watched eyes: till a dreame waked him, and made him see that whereof he had dreamed, and withall not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his owne doings. But Philoclea (that was euen iealous of her selfe for Zelmane) would needs haue her gloue, and not without so mighty a loure as that face could yeeld. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I haue long desired to know you, heretofore I must confesse with more good will, but still with honoring your vertue, though I loue not your person: and at this time I pray you let vs take care of your wound, vpon condition you shall hereafter promise, that a more knightly combat shalbe performed betweene vs. Amphialus answered in honorable sort, but with such excusing himselfe, that more and more accused his loue to Philoclea, and prouoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certaine shepheards not far off (who knew and wel obserued their limits) to come and helpe to carrie away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without daunger to straine it: and so he leauing himselfe with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his hart, then at his wound: which bound vp by the sheetes, wherewith Philoclea had bene wrapped, made him thanke the wound, and blesse the sword for that fauour.
He being gone, the Ladies (with mery anger talking, in what naked simplicitie their cousin had seene them) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to breake off so pleasing a company, with going to performe a cumbersome obedience, Zelmane inuited them to the little arbour, only reserued for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela hauing a while made the lute in his language, shew how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane deliuered vp the paper, which Amphialus had at first yeelded vnto her: and seeing written vpon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembring what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she tooke occasion in the presenting of it, to aske whether it were any secret, or no. No truely (answered Philoclea) it is but euen an exercise of my fathers writing, vpon this occasion: He was one day somwhile before your comming hether) walking abroade, hauing vs two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a hie way, which comes from the cittie of Megalopolis, he saw this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the proprest and best-graced men that euer I sawe, being of middle age, and of a meane stature. Hee lay as then vnder a tree, while his seruaunts were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seeme he was tired with the extreme trauaile he had taken, and yet not so tyred, that hee forced to take any rest; so hasty hee was vpon his iourney: and withall so sorrowfull, that the very face thereof was painted in his face; which with pitifull motions, euen groanes, teares, and possionate talking to him self, moued my Father to fal in talke with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of griefe, that my Father afterward tooke a delight to set it downe in such forme as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are hable to declare vnto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaues, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.
Plangus. Basilius.
Plangus.
Alas how long this pilgrimage doth last?
What greater ills haue now the heauens in store,
To couple comming harmes with sorrowes past?
Long since my voice is hoarce, and throte is sore,
With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,
But more I plaine, I feele my woes the more.
Ah where was first that cruell cunning found,
To frame of Earth a vessell of the minde,
Where it should be to selfe-destruction bound?
What needed so high sprites such mansions blind?
Or wrapt in flesh what do they here obtaine,
But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?
Balles to the starres, and thralles to Fortunes raigne;
Turnd from themselues, infected with their cage,
Where death is feard, and life is held with paine.
Like players pla’st to fill a filthy stage,
Where chaunge of thoughts one foole to other shewes,
And all but iests, saue onely sorrowes rage,
The child feeles that; the man that feeling knowes,
With cries first borne, the presage of his life,
Where wit but serues, to haue true tast of woes.
A Shop of shame, a Booke where blots be rife
This bodie is: this bodie so composed,
As in it selfe to nourish mortall strife,
So diuers be the Elements disposed
In this weake worke, that it can neuer be
Made vniforme to any state reposed.
Griefe onely makes his wretched state to see
(Euen like a toppe which nought but whipping moues)
This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.
Griefe is the stone which finest iudgement proues:
For who grieues not hath but a blockish braine,
Since cause of griefe no cause from life remoues.
Basilius.
How long wilt thou with monefull musicke staine
The cheerefull notes these pleasant places yeeld,
Where all good haps a perfect state maintaine?
Plangus.
Curst be good haps, and curst be they that build
Their hopes on haps, and do not make despaire
For all these certaine blowes the surest shield.
Shall I that saw Eronaes shining haire
Torne with her hands, and those same hands of snow
With losse of purest blood themselues to teare?
Shall I that saw those brests, where beauties flow,
Swelling with sighes, made pale with mindes disease,
And saw those eyes (those Sonnes) such shoures to shew,
Shall I, whose eares her mournefull words did seaze,
Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,
Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?
No, no: Despaire my dayly lesson saith,
And saith, although I seeke my life to flie,
Plangus must liue to see Eronaes death,
Plangus must liue some helpe for her to trie
(Though in despaire) for Loue so forceth me;
Plangus doth liue, and shall Erona dye?
Erona dye? O heauen (if heauen there be)
Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?
Serue all thy starrie eyes this shame to see?
Let doltes in haste some altars faire erect
To those high powers, which idly sit aboue,
And vertue do in greatest need neglect.
Basilius.
O man, take heed, how thou the Gods do moue
To causefull wrath, which thou canst not resist.
Blasphemous words the speaker vaine do proue.
Alas while we are wrapt in foggie mist
Of our selfe-loue (so passions do deceaue)
We thinke they hurt, when most they do assist.
To harme vs wormes should that high Iustice leaue
His nature? nay, himselfe? for so it is.
What glorie from our losse can he receaue?
But still our dazeled eyes their way do misse,
While that we do at his sweete scourge repine,
The kindly way to beate vs on to blisse.
If she must dye, then hath she past the line
Of lothsome dayes, whose losse how canst thou mone,
That doost so well their miseries define?
But such we are with inward tempest blowne
Of windes quite contrarie in waues of will:
We mone that lost, which had we did bemone.
Plangus.
And shall she dye? shall cruell fier spill
Those beames that set so many harts on fire?
Hath she not force euen death with loue to kill?
Nay euen cold Death enflamde with hot desire
Her to enioy, where ioy it selfe is thrall,
Will spoile the earth of his most rich attire.
Thus Death becomes a riuall to vs all,
And hopes with foule embracements her to get,
In whose decay Vertues faire shrine must fall.
O Vertue weake, shall death his triumph set
Vpon thy spoiles, which neuer should lye waste?
Let Death first dye; be thou his worthy let.
By what eclipse shall that Sonne be defaste?
What myne hath erst throwne downe so faire a tower?
What sacriledge hath such a saint disgra’st?
The world the garden is, she is the flower
That sweetens all the place; she is the guest
Of rarest price, both heau’n and earth her bower.
And shall (ô me) all this in ashes rest?
Alas, if you a Phoenix new will haue
Burnt by the Sunne, she first must build her nest.
But well you know, the gentle Sunne would saue
Such beames so like his owne, which might haue might
In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons damme to graue.
Therefore, alas, you vse vile Vulcans spight,
Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe
Which while it is, it is all Asias light.
O Mars, for what doth serue thy armed axe?
To let that wit-old beast consume in flames
Thy Venus child, whose beautie Venus lackes?
O Venus (if her praise no enuy frames,
In thy high minde) get her thy husbands grace.
”Sweete speaking oft a currish hart reclaimes.’
O eyes of mine, where once she saw her face,
Her face which was more liuely in my hart;
O braine, where thought of her hath onely place;
O hand, which toucht her hand when we did part;
O lippes, that kist that hand with my teares sprent;
O toonge, then dumbe, not daring tell my smart;
O soule whose loue in her is onely spent,
What ere you see, think, touch, kisse, speake, or loue,
Let all for her, and vnto her be bent.
Basilius.
Thy wailing words do much my spirits moue,
They vttred are in such a feeling fashion,
That sorrowes worke against my will I proue.
Me-thinkes I am partaker of thy passion,
And in thy case do glasse mine owne debilitie:
Selfe-guiltie folke most prone to feele compassion.
Yet Reason saith, Reason should haue abilitie,
To hold these wordly things in such proportion,
As let them come or go with euen facilitie.
But our Desires tyrannicall extortion
Doth force vs there to set our chiefe delightfulnes,
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.
But still, although we faile of perfect rightfulnes,
Seeke we to tame these childish superfluities:
Let vs not winke though void of purest sightfulnes.
For what can breed more peeuish incongruities,
Then man to yeeld to female lamentations?
Let vs some grammar learne of more congruities.
Plangus.
If through mine eares pearce any consolation
By wise discourse, sweete tunes, or Poets fiction;
If ought I cease these hideous exclamations,
While that my soule, she, she liues in affliction;
Then let my life long time on earth maintained be,
To wretched me, the last worst malediction.
Can I, that know her sacred parts, restrained be
From any ioy? know fortunes vile displacing her,
In morall rules let raging woes contained be?
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,
With swelling hart in spite and due disdainfulnes
She lay for dead, till I help with vnlasing her?
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes
With Diamond in window-glasse she graued,
Erona dye, and end this ougly painefulnes?
Can I forget in how straunge phrase she craued
That quickly they would her burne, drowne, or smother,
As if by death she onely might be saued?
Then let me eke forget one hand from other:
Let me forget that Plangus I am called:
Let me forget I am sonne to my mother,
But if my memory must thus be thralled
To that strange stroke which conquer’d all my senses,
Can thoughts still thinking so rest vnappalled?
Basilius.
Who still doth seeke against him selfe offences,
What pardon can auaile? or who imployes him
To hurt himselfe, what shields can be defenses?
Woe to poore man: ech outward thing annoyes him
In diuers kinds; yet as he were not filled,
He heapes in outward griefe, that most destroyes him.
Thus is our thought with paine for thistles tilled:
Thus be our noblest parts dryed vp with sorrow:
Thus is our mind with too much minding spilled.
One day layes vp stuffe of griefe for the morrow:
And whose good haps do leaue him vnprouided,
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.
Betwixt the good and shade of good diuided,
We pittie deeme that which but weakenes is:
So are we from our high creation slided.
But Plangus lest I may your sicknesse misse
Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here doo end.
The asse did hurt when he did thinke to kisse.
When Zelmane had read it ouer, marueyling verie much of the speeche of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to heare Philoclea speake, Most excellent Ladie (saide she) one may be little the wiser for reading this Dialogue, since it nether sets foorth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorow: therefore I woulde humbly craue to vnderstand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confesse) some thing in my trauaile I haue heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to finde by so sweet an authoritie confirmed. The trueth is (answered Philoclea) that after hee knew my father to bee Prince of this countrie, while hee hoped to preuaile something with him in a great request hee made vnto him, hee was content to open fully the estate both of himselfe, and of that Ladie; which with my sisters help (said she) who remembers it better then I, I will declare vnto you: and first of Erona, (being the chiefe Subiect of this discourse) this storie (with more teares and exclamations then I lifte to spende about it) hee recounted.
Of late there raigned a King in Lydia, who had for the blessing of his mariage, this onely daughter of his, Erona; a Princesse worthie for her beautie, as much praise, as beautie may be prayse-worthy. This princesse Erona, being 19. yeeres of age, seeing the countrie of Lydia so much deuoted to Cupid, as that in euery place his naked pictures and images were superstitiously adored (ether moued thereunto by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which coulde breed wickednes, or the shamefast consideration of such nakednes) procured so much of her father, as vtterly to pull downe, and deface al those statues & pictures. Which how terribly he punished (for to that the Lydians impute it) quickly after appeared.
For she had not liued a yeare longer, whe she was striken with most obstinate Loue, to a young man but of meane parentage, in her fathers court, named Antiphilus: so meane, as that hee was but the sonne of her Nurse, and by that meanes (without other desert) became knowen of her. Now so euill could she conceale her fire, and so wilfully perseuered she in it, that her father offering her the mariage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more then the ioyes of heauen) shee for Antiphilus sake refused it. Many wayes her father sought to withdrawe her from it; sometimes perswasions, sometimes threatnings; once hiding Antiphilus, and giuing her to vnderstand that he was fled the countrie: Lastly, making a solemne execution to be done of another, vnder the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But nether she liked perswasions, nor feared threateninges, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all meanes (as well by poyson as knife) to send her soule, at least, to be maried in the eternall church with him. This so brake the tender fathers hart, that (leauing things as he found them) hee shortly after died. Then foorth with Erona (being seazed of the crowne, and arming her will with authoritie) sought to aduance her affection to the holy title of matrimonie.
But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she was ouertaken with a war the King Tiridates made vpon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruine) Loue had kindled his cruel hart; indeed cruell and tyrannous: for (being far too strong in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foile to set foorth the extremitie of his loue, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonets of his Loue, in the bloud, and tuned them in the cries of her subiects; although his faire sister Artaxia (who would accompany him in the army) sought all meanes to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best citie, vowing to winne her, or lose his life. And now had he brought her to the point ether of a wofull consent, or a ruinous deniall; when there came thether (following the course which Vertue and Fortune led them) two excellent young Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedon, the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Plangus said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighes and teares) the most accomplished both in body & minde, that the Sun euer lookt vpon. While Philoclea spake those words, O sweete wordes (thought Zelmane to herselfe) which are not onely a praise to mee, but a praise to praise it selfe, which out of that mouth issueth.
These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswell to help the weaker (especially being a Ladie) as ta saue a Greeke people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering to gether such of the honestest Lycians, as would venture their liues to succour their Princesse: giuing order by a secret message they sent into the Citie, that they should issue with al force at an appointed time; they set vpon Tiridates campe, with so well-guided a fiercenes, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be ouerthrowen: but that this Plangus (being Generall of Tiridates hors-men) especially ayded by the two mightie men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the footme, euen almost defeated: but yet could not barre the Princes (with their succoures both of men and victuall) to enter the Citie.
Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse then a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrell should be decided; with compact, that neither side should helpe his fellow: but of whose side the more ouercame, with him the victorie should remaine. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of warre, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he sawe it like enough, that the people (werie of the miseries of war) would rather giue him vp, if they saw him shrinke, then for his sake venture their ruine: considering that the challengers were farre of greater worthinesse then himselfe. So it was agreed vpon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes, King of Bithinia; Barzanes of Hircania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarse able to resist them: and against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus , being his owne cousin germain, and sonne to the King of Iberia . Now so it fell out that Musidorus slewe Barzanes, and Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed aboue all that euer they had: but of the other side Plangus tooke Antiphilus prisoner: vnder which colour (as if the matter had bene equall, though indeed it was not, the greater part being ouercome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: and to bring Erona to a compelled yeelding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walles of the towne strike off Antiphilus head; without his suite in that space were graunted: adding withall (because he had heard of her desperate affection) that if in the meane time she did her selfe any hurt, what tortures could be deuised should be layed vpon Antiphilus.
Then lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our owne thoughts seeme as a God vnto vs. But whatsoeuer it was, then it did set foorth the miserablenes of his effectes: she being drawne to two cotraries by one cause. For the loue of him commaunded her to yeeld to no other: the loue of him commaunded her to preserue his life: which knot might well be cut, but vntied it could not be. So that Loue in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrell. What (said he of the one side) doost thou loue Antiphilus, ô Erona? and shall Tiridates enioy thy bodie? with what eyes wilt thou looke vpon Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy hart? Thinke with thy selfe, if this man haue thee, thou shalt neuer haue more part of Antiphilus then if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affection shalbe still gnawing, and the remorse still present. Death perhaps will coole the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt euer loue, and euer lacke. Thinke this beside, if thou marrie Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place maried: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou doost him the wrong. His death is a worke of nature, and either now, or at another time he shal die. But it shalbe thy worke, thy shamefull worke, which is in thy power to shun, to make him liue to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Loue had well kindled that partie of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) O Erona , and is thy Loue of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou doost now make it a question, whether he shall die, or no? O excellent affection, which for too much loue, will see his head off. Marke well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but loue of thy selfe which so disputeth: Thou canst not abide Tiridates: this is but loue of thy selfe: thou shalt be ashamed to looke vpon him afterward; this is but feare of shame, and loue of thy selfe: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but loue of thy selfe: he shalbe married; if he bewell, why should that grieue thee, but for loue of thy selfe? No, no, pronounce these words if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Then the images of each side stood before her vnderstanding; one time she thought she saw Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Antiphilus sawe her by Tiridates enioyed: twenty times calling for a seruaunt to carry message of yeelding, but before he came the minde was altered. She blusht when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, when she remembred the fruits of denying. For weeping, sighing, wringing her hands, and tearing her haire, were indifferent of both sides. Easily she would haue agreed to haue broken all disputations with her owne death, but that the feare of Antiphilus furder torments staied her. At length, euen the euening before the day apointed of his death, the determination of yeelding preuailed, especially, growing vpon a message of Antiphilus; who with all the coniuring termes he could deuise, besought her to saue his life, vpon any conditions. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two yong Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, & falling downe at their feet, desired them to try some way for her deliuerance; shewing her selfe resolued, not to ouer-liue Antiphilus, nor yet to yeeld to Tiridates.
They that knew not what she had done in priuate, prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it fals out, that what is inconstancy, seemes cunning; so did this change indeed stand in as good steed as a witty dissimulation. For it made the King as reckles, as them diligent: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the towne; with whom she would needs go, either to die her selfe, or reskew Antiphilus, hauing no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what deuise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderfull valour of the two Princes so preuailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slaine. Plangus was then the chiefe man left in the campe; and therefore seeing no other remedie, conueied in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queene of Armenia; who with true lamentations, made known to the world, that her new greatnes did no way comfort her in respect of her brothers losse, whom she studied all meanes possible to reuenge vpon euery one of the occasioners, hauing (as she thought) ouerthrowne her brother by a most abhominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any priuate man, and her selfe in mariage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greeke Princes (being called away by an other aduenture) left them.
But now me thinkes as I haue read some Poets, who when they intend to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your eares from me, yet may I wel desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withall wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your eares. O most happy were we, if we did set our loues one vpon another. (And as she spake that word, her cheekes in red letters writ more, then her tongue did speake.) And therefore since I haue named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) helpe me with the rest, for I haue held the stage long inough; and if it please you to make his fortune knowne, as I haue done Eronas, I will after take hart againe to go on with his falshood; and so betweene vs both, my Ladie Zelmane shall vnderstand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrow me then (said Miso) I will none of that, I promise you, as long as I haue the gouernmet, I wil first haue my tale, & then my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned from Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speake first. For I tell you, and this may be suffred, when you are married you will haue first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eger earnestnesse she looked, hauing threatning not onely in her Ferret eies, but while she spake, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking lims one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: and Miso (sitting on the ground with her knees vp, and her hands vpon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quauering cough, thus discoursed vnto them. I tell you true (said she) whatsoeuer you thinke of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my pennie as good siluer, as some of you do: and if my father had not plaid the hasty foole (it is no lie I tell you) I might haue had an other-gaines husband, then Dametas . But let that passe, God amend him: and yet I speake it not without good cause. You are full in your tittle tattlings of Cupid: here is Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woma told me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned clerke told him, and gaue it him in writing; and here I haue it in my praier booke. I pray you (said Philoclea) let vs see it, & read it. No hast but good (said Miso) you shal first know how I came by it. I was a young girle of a seuen and twenty yeare old, & I could not go thorow the streate of our village, but I might heare the young men talke; O the pretie little eies of Miso; O the fine thin lips of Miso; O the goodly fat hands of Miso: besides, how well a certaine wrying I had of my necke, became me. Then the one would wincke with one eye, and the other cast daiseys at me: I must confesse, seing so many amorous, it made me set vp my peacocks tayle with the hiest. Which when this good old woman perceiued (O the good wold woman, well may the bones rest of the good wold woman) she cald me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barbers shop, all the towne knew her, there was a great losse of her: she called me to her, and taking first a soppe of wine to comfort her hart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so deere for now adaies, and in that good world was very good cheape) she cald me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretie one in those daies though I say it) I see a number of lads that loue you; Well (said she) I say no more: doo you know what Loue is? With that she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a foule fiend I trow: for he had a paire of hornes like a Bull, his feete clouen, as many eyes vpon his bodie, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This monster sat like a hangman vpon a paire of gallowes, in his right hand he was painted holding a crowne of Laurel, in his left hand a purse of mony, & out of his mouth hong a lace of two faire pictures, of a man and a woman, and such a countenance he shewed, as if he would perswade folks by those aluremets to come thither & be hanged. I, like a tender harted wench, skriked out for feare of the diuell. Well (said she) this same is euen Loue: therefore do what thou list with all those fellows, one after another; and it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secret; but vpo my charge, neuer loue none of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come fro the belly of the faire Venus? for a few dayes before, our (priest betweene him & me) had told me the whole storie of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceaued: and therwith gaue me this Booke, which she said a great maker of ballets had giuen to an old painter, who for a litle pleasure, had bestowed both booke and picture of her. Reade there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cowe, and the false Argus his father. And so she gaue me this Booke, and there now you may reade it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weepe, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carkasse of sorrow that appeared there. But while her teares came out, like raine falling vpon durtie furrowes, the latter end of her praier booke was read among these Ladies, which contained this.
Poore Painters oft with silly Poets ioyne,
To fill the world with strange but vaine conceits:
One brings the stuffe, the other stamps the coine,
Which breedes nought else but gloses of deceits.
Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do
A naked God, blinde young, with arrowes two.
Is he a God, that euer flies the light?
Or naked he, disguis’d in all vntruth?
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?
How is he young, that tam’d old Phoebus youth?
But arrowes two, and tipt with gold or leade?
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.
No, nothing so; an old false knaue he is
By Argus got on Io, then a cow:
What time for her Iuno her Ioue did misse,
And charge of her to Argus did allow.
Mercury kill’d his false fire for this act,
His damme a beast was pardon’d beastly fact.
With fathers death, and mothers guiltie shame,
With Ioues disdaine at such a riuals seed,
The wretch compell’d a runnagate became,
And learn’d what ill a miser state doth breed,
To lye, to steale, to pry, and to accuse,
Naught in himselfe ech other to abuse.
Yet beares he still his parents stately gifts,
A horned head, clouen feete, and thousand eyes,
Some gazing still, some winking wilye shiftes,
With long large eares where neuer rumour dyes.
His horned head doth seeme the heauen to spight:
His clouen foote doth neuer treade aright.
Thus halfe a man, with man he dayly haunts,
Cloth’d in the shape which soonest may deceaue:
Thus halfe a beast, ech beastly vice he plants,
In those weake harts that his aduice receaue.
He proules ech place stil in new colours deckt,
Sucking ones ill, another to infect.
To narrow brests he comes all wrapt in gaine:
To swelling harts he shines in honours fire:
To open eyes all beauties he doth raine;
Creeping to ech with flattering of desire.
But for that Loue is worst which rules the eyes,
Thereon his name, there his chiefe triumph lyes.
Millions of yeares this old driuell Cupid liues;
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth proue:
Till now at length that Ioue him office giues;
(At Iunos suite who much did Argus loue)
In this our world a hang-man for to be,
Of all those fooles that will haue all they see.
The Ladies made sport at the description and storie of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she tooke them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perfourme her sisters request of the other part of the storie. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweete smiling, and the sweetnes of her smiling with the beautie of her face) since I am borne a Princes daughter, let me not giue example of disobedience. My gouernesse will haue vs draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let vs do so: and so perhaps it will light vpon you to entertaine this company with some storie of your owne; and it is reason our eares should be willinger to heare, as your tongue is abler to deliuer. I will thinke (answered Zelmane) excellent Princesse my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to fauour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to haue fortune their iudge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishnes going vp and downe, with her head like a boate in a storme) put to her golden gols among them, and blind Fortune (that saw not the coulor of them) gaue her the preheminence: and so being her time to speake (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (sayd she) there was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that euer did eate pappe. Now this King did keepe a great house, that euery body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing vpon a harpe, as sweete as any Rose; and combing her head with a combe all of precious stones, there came in a Knight into the court, vpon a goodly horse, one haire of gold, and the other of siluer; and so the Knight casting vp his eyes to the window, did fall into such loue with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eate; till many a sorry day going ouer his head, with Dayly Diligence and Grisly Grones, he wan her affection, so that they agreed to run away togither. And so in May, when all true hartes reioyce, they stale out of the Castel, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went togither, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought vp among the water Nymphes, who had so bewitched him, that if he were euer askt his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her vpon his blessing, that she neuer aske him what he was, nor whether he would. And so a great while she kept his commandement; til once, passing through a cruell wildernes, as darke as pitch; her mouth so watred, that she could not choose but aske him the question. And then, he making the greeuousest complaints that would haue melted a tree to haue heard them, vanisht quite away: and she lay downe, casting forth as pitifull cries as any shrich-owle. But hauing laien so, (wet by the raine, & burnt by the Sun) fiue dayes, and fiue nights, she gat vp and went ouer many a high hill, and many a deepe riuer; till she came to an Aunts house of hers; and came, and cried to her for helpe: and she for pittie gaue her a Nut, and bad her neuer open her Nut, till she was come to the extremest misery that euer tongue could speake of. And so she went, and she went, and neuer rested the euening, where she went in the morning; till she came to a second Aunt; and she gaue her another Nut.
Now good Mopsa (said the sweete Philoclea) I pray thee at my request keepe this tale, till my marriage day, and I promise thee that the best gowne I weare that day shalbe thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargaine, especially that it should grow a festiuall Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to finde the vttermost what these Ladies vnderstood touching her selfe, and hauing vnderstood the danger of Erona (of which before she had neuer heard) purposing with her selfe (as soone as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to succour her, entreated againe, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselues were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this maner to their earnest request soone condiscended.
The father of this Prince Plangus as yet liues, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the iudgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing euill, without himselfe mistake the euill, seeing it disguised vnder some forme of goodnesse. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princesse (who both from her auncesters, and in her selfe was worthy of him) by her had this sonne, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queene (as though she had perfourmed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned againe vnto her maker. The King (sealing vp all thoughts of loue vnder the image of her memorie) remained a widdower many yeares after; recompencing the griefe of that disioyning from her, in conioyning in himselfe both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her onely child, Plangus. Who being growne to mans age, as our owne eies may iudge, could not but fertilly requite his fathers fatherly education.