The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia 4 – Sidney · Library Across
Literature · Romance
The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia 4Philip Sidney (part 2)
18
Literature · Romance
The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia 4
Philip Sidney (part 2)
SidneyEnglish
“My Lord,” said he, “when our good king Basilius, with better success than expectation, took to wife (even in his more than decaying years) the fair young princess Gynecia, there came with her a young lord, cousin-german to herself, named Argalus, led hither partly with the love and honour of his noble kinswoman, partly with the humour of youth, which ever thinks that good, whose goodness he sees not. And in this court he received so good increase of knowledge, that after some years spent, he so manifested a most virtuous mind in all his actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was transported unto them, being a gentleman indeed most rarely accomplished, excellently learned, but without all vain glory: friendly without factiousness; valiant, so as for my part I think the earth hath no man that hath done more heroical acts than he; howsoever now of late the fame flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our noble prince Amphialus, who indeed in our parts is only accounted likely to match him: but I say for my part, I think no man, for valour of mind, and ability of body, to be preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant, as he never durst do anybody injury: in behaviour, some will say, ever sad, surely sober, and somewhat given to musing, but never uncourteous; his word ever led by his thought, and always followed by his deed; rather liberal than magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had ever good choice of the receiver; in sum (for I perceive I shall easily take a great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this country love so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can find a spot in, if the over-vehement constancy of yet spotless affection may not in hard-wrested constructions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that work in him, which hath made both him, and itself in him, over all this country famous. My master’s son Clitophon (whose loss gives the cause to this discourse, and yet gives me cause to begin with Argalus, since his loss proceeds from Argalus) being a young gentleman as of great birth (being our king’s sister’s son) so truly of good nature and one that can see good and love it, haunted more the company of this worthy Argalus, than of any other; so as if there were not a friendship (which is so rare, as it is to be doubted whether it be a thing indeed, or but a word) at least there was such a liking and friendliness as hath brought forth the effects which you shall hear. About two years since, it so fell out that he brought him to a great lady’s house, sister to my master, who had with her her only daughter, the fair Parthenia, fair indeed (fame, I think, itself not daring to call any fairer, if it be not Helena, queen of Corinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairness much the fairer was, that it was but a fair ambassador of a most fair mind; full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to judge itself than to shew itself: her speech being as rare, as precious; her silence without fullness; her modesty without affectation; her shamefacedness without ignorance: in sum, one that to praise well, one must first set down with himself what it is to be excellent: for so she is.
“I think you think that these perfections meeting could not choose but find one another, and delight in what they found; for likeness of manners is likely in reason to draw liking with affection; men’s actions do not always cross with reason: to be short, it did so indeed. They loved, although for a while the fire thereof (hope’s wings being cut off) were blown by the bellows of despair upon this occasion.
“There had been a good while before, and so continued, a suitor to this same lady, a great noble man, though of Laconia, yet near neighbour to Parthenia’s mother, named Demagoras; a man mighty in riches and power, and proud thereof, stubbornly stout, loving nobody but himself, and, for his own delight’s sake, Parthenia: and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so gilded over all his other imperfections that the old lady (though contrary to my lord her brother’s mind) had given her consent; and using a mother’s authority upon her fair daughter had made her yield thereunto, not because she liked her choice, but because her obedient mind had not yet taken upon it to make choice. And the day of their assurance drew near, when my young lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchance principally to see so rare a sight, as Parthenia by all well-judging eyes was judged.
“But though few days were before the time of assurance appointed, yet love, that saw he had a great journey to make in short time, hasted so himself that before her word could tie her to Demagoras, her heart hath vowed her to Argalus with so grateful a receipt in mutual affection that if she desired above all things to have Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to miss Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, loving and loathing, and out of passion began to take the authority of judgment; insomuch that when the time came that Demagoras (full of proud joy) thought to receive the gift of herself; she, with words of resolute refusal (though with tears showing she was sorry she must refuse) assured her mother she would first be bedded in her grave than wedded to Demagoras. The change was no more strange than unpleasant to the mother who being determinately (lest I should say of a great lady, wilfully) bent to marry her to Demagoras, tried all ways, which a witty and hard-hearted mother could use upon so humble a daughter in whom the only resisting power was love. But the more she assaulted, the more she taught Parthenia to defend; and the more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at length finding that Argalus standing between them, was it that most eclipsed her affection from shining upon Demagoras, she sought all means how to remove him, so much the more as he manifested himself an unremovable suitor to her daughter: first by employing him in as many dangerous enterprises as ever the evil step-mother Juno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his virtue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to overthrow him, did set him up upon the height of honour; enough to have moved her heart, especially to a man every way so worthy as Argalus; but the struggling against all reason, because she would have her will, and shew her authority in matching her with Demagoras, the more virtuous Argalus was the more she hated him, thinking herself conquered in his conquests, and therefore, still employing him in more and more dangerous attempts: in the meanwhile she used all extremities possible upon her fair daughter to make her give over herself to her direction. But it was hard to judge whether he in doing, or she in suffering, shewed greater constancy of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occasions than he valour to go through them: so to Parthenia malice sooner ceased than her unchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons Demagoras and she would have made away with Argalus, but he with providence and courage so passed over all that the mother took such a spiteful grief at it that her heart brake withal, and she died.
“But then Demagoras assuring himself that now Parthenia was her own she would never be his, and receiving as much by her own determinate answer, not more desiring his own happiness, than envying Argalus, whom he saw with narrow eyes, even ready to enjoy the perfection of his desires, strengthening his conceit with all the mischievous counsels which disdained love and envious pride could give unto him, the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was gone to his country to fetch some of his principal friends to honour the marriage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented unto) the wicked Demagoras, I say, desiring to speak with her, with unmerciful force (her weak arms in vain resisting) rubbed all over her face a most horrible poison: the effect whereof was such, that never leper looked more ugly than she did: which done, having his men and horses ready, departed away in spite of her servants, as ready to revenge as could be, in such an unexpected mischief. But the abominableness of this fact being come to my L. Kalander, he made such means, both by our king’s intercession and his own, that by the king and senate of Lacedaemon, Demagoras was, upon pain of death, banished the country: who hating the punishment, where he should have hated the fault, joined himself, with all the power he could make, unto the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to have a man of such authority among them) made him their general, and under him have committed divers the most outrageous villanies that a base multitude (full of desperate revenge) can imagine.
“But within a while after this pitiful fact committed upon Parthenia, Argalus returned (poor Gentleman!) having her fair image in his heart, and already promising his eyes the uttermost of his felicity when they (nobody else daring to tell it him) were the first messengers to themselves of their own misfortune. I mean not to move passion with telling you the grief of both, when he knew her, for at first he did not; nor at first knowledge could possibly have virtue’s aid so ready, as not even weakly to lament the loss of such a jewel, so much the more, as that skilful men in that art assured it was unrecoverable: but within a while, truth of love (which still held the first face in his memory) a virtuous constancy, and even a delight to be constant, faith given, and inward worthiness shining through the foulest mists, took so full hold of the noble Argalus, that not only in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow upon adversity, but even with the most abundant kindness that an eye-ravished lover can express, he laboured both to drive the extremity of sorrow from her, and to hasten the celebration of their marriage: whereunto he unfeignedly shewed himself no less cheerfully earnest than if she had never been disinherited of that goodly portion which nature had so liberally bequeathed unto her; and for that cause deferred his intended revenge upon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her presence, shewing more humble serviceableness and joy to content her than ever before.
“But as he gave this rare example, not to be hoped for of any other, but of another Argalus, so of the other side, she took as strange a course in affection: for where she desired to enjoy him more than to live yet did she overthrow both her own desire and his, and in no sort would yield to marry him: with a strange encounter of love’s affects and effects; that he by an affection sprung from excessive beauty should delight in horrible foulness; and she of a vehement desire to have him should kindly build a resolution never to have him; for truth it is, that so in heart she loved him, as she could not find in her heart he should be tied to what was unworthy of his presence.
“Truly, Sir, a very good orator might have a fair field to use eloquence in, if he did but only repeat the lamentable, and truly affectionate speeches, while he conjured her by remembrance of her affection, and true oaths of his own affection, not to make him so unhappy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her heart; that her face, when it was fairest, had been but a marshal to lodge the love of her in his mind, which now was so well placed that it needed no further help of any outward harbinger; beseeching her, even with tears, to know that his love was not so superficial as to go no further than the skin, which yet now to him was most fair since it was hers: how could he be so ungrateful as to love her the less for that which she had only received for his sake; that he never beheld it, but therein he saw the loveliness of her love towards him; protesting unto her that he would never take joy of his life if he might not enjoy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that overheard them) she (wringing him by the hand) made no other answer but this. ‘My Lord,’ said she, ‘God knows I love you; if I were princess of the whole world, and had, withal, all the blessings that ever the world brought forth, I should not make delay to lay myself and them under your feet; or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must confess) far unworthy of you, yet would I (with too great a joy for my heart now to think of) have accepted your vouchsafing me to be yours, and with faith and obedience would have supplied all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable than I am ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia. Live happy, dear Argalus, I give you full liberty, and I beseech you to take it; and I assure you I shall rejoice (whatsoever become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be fit both for your honour and satisfaction.’ With that she burst out crying and weeping, not able longer to control herself from blaming her fortune, and wishing her own death.
“But Argalus, with a most heavy heart still pursuing his desire, she fixed of mind to avoid further intreaty, and to fly all company which (even of him) grew unpleasant unto her, one night she stole away: but whither as yet it is unknown or indeed what is become of her.
“Argalus sought her long, and in many places; at length (despairing to find her, and the more he despaired, the more enraged) weary of his life, but first determining to be revenged of Demagoras, he went alone disguised into the chief town held by the Helots, where coming into his presence, guarded about by many of his soldiers, he could delay his fury no longer for a fitter time, but setting upon him, in despite of a great many that helped him, gave him divers mortal wounds, and himself (no question) had been there presently murdered, but that Demagoras himself desired he might be kept alive: perchance with intention to feed his own eyes with some cruel execution to be laid upon him; but death came sooner than he looked for; yet having had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not long before delivered out of the prison of the king of Lacedaemon, where he should have suffered death for having slain the king’s nephew, but him he named, who at that time was absent, making inroads upon the Lacedaemonians; but being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceived of that young man, especially because they had none among themselves to whom the others would yield, were content to follow Demagoras’s appointment. And well hath it succeeded with them, he having since done things beyond the hope of the youngest heads; of whom I speak the rather, because he hath hitherto preserved Argalus alive, under pretence to have him publicly, and with exquisite torments executed after the end of these wars, of which they hope for a soon and prosperous issue.
“And he hath likewise hitherto kept my young lord Clitophon alive, who (to redeem his friend) went with certain other noble men of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but he issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated the Laconians, slew many of the noblemen, and took Clitophon prisoner, whom with much ado he keepeth alive, the Helots being villainously cruel; but he tempereth them so, sometimes by following their humour, sometimes by striving with it, that hitherto he hath saved both their lives, but in different estates; Argalus being kept in a close and hard prison, Clitophon at some liberty. And now, Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise ourselves little of their safeties while they are in the Helots’ hands, I have delivered all I understand touching the loss of my lord’s son, and the cause thereof: which though it was not necessary to Clitophon’s case, to be so particularly told, yet the strangeness of it made me think it would not be unpleasant unto you.”
Palladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passionately delighted with hearing so strange an accident of a knight so famous over the world as Argalus, with whom he had himself a long desire to meet: so had fame poured a noble emulation in him towards him.
But then (well bethinking himself) he called for armour, desiring them to provide him of horse and guide, and armed all saving the head, he went up to Kalander, whom he found lying upon the ground, having ever since banished both sleep and food as enemies to the mourning, which passion persuaded him was reasonable. But Palladius raised him up, saying unto him: “No more, no more of this, my L. Kalander; let us labour to find, before we lament the loss: you know myself miss one, who though he be not my son, I would disdain the favour of life after him: but while there is a hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good success will follow.” And with those words, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and in his face and gesture was painted victory. Once, Kalander’s spirits were so revived withal, that (receiving some sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himself and those few of his servants he had left unsent, and so himself guided Palladius to the place upon the frontiers, where already there were assembled between three and four thousand men, all well disposed (for Kalander’s sake) to abide any peril: but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to do than skilful how to do: lusty bodies, and braver armours; with such courage as rather grew of despising their enemies, whom they knew not, than of any confidence for anything which in themselves they knew: but neither cunning use of their weapons, nor art showed in their marching or encamping. Which Palladius soon perceiving, he desired to understand (as much as could be delivered unto him) the estate of the Helots.
And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affairs of Laconia, that they were a kind of people who, having been of old freemen and possessioners, the Lacedaemonians had conquered them, and laid not only tribute, but bondage upon them, which they had long borne, till of late the Lacedaemonians, through greediness growing more heavy than they could bear, and through contempt growing less careful how to make them bear, they had with a general consent (rather springing by the generalness of the cause than of any artificial practice) set themselves in arms, and whetting their courage with revenge, and grounding their resolution upon despair, they had proceeded with unlooked-for success, having already taken divers towns and castles, with the slaughter of many of the gentry: for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly fury than any soldiery discipline, practice had now made them comparable to the best of the Lacedaemonians, and more of late than ever; by reason, first of Demagoras, a great lord, who had made himself of their party, and since his death, of another captain they had gotten, who had brought up their ignorance, and brought down their fury to such a mean of good government, and withal led them so valorously that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great conflicts: in such wise that the estate of Lacedaemon had sent unto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honourable conditions. Palladius having gotten this general knowledge of the party against whom, as he had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainly that by plain force there was small appearance of helping Clitophon; but some device was to be taken in hand, wherein no less discretion than valour was to be used.
Whereupon, the counsel of the chief men was called, and at last this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especially by reading histories, was acquainted with stratagems) invented, and was by all the rest approved, that all the men there should dress themselves like the poorest sort of the people in Arcadia, having no banners, but bloody shirts hanged upon long staves, with some bad bag-pipes instead of drum and fife: their armour they should, as well as might be, cover, or at least make them look so rustily and ill-favouredly as might well become such wearers, and this the whole number should do, saving two hundred of the best chosen gentlemen for courage and strength, whereof Palladius himself would be one, who should have their arms chained, and be put in carts like prisoners. This being performed according to the agreement, they marched on towards the town of Cardamila where Clitophon was captive; and being come two hours before sunset within view of the walls, the Helots already descrying their number, and beginning to sound the alarm, they sent a cunning fellow (so much the cunninger as that he could mask it under rudeness) who with such a kind of rhetoric as weeded out all flowers of rhetoric, delivered unto the Helots assembled together, that they were country-people of Arcadia, no less oppressed by their lords, and no less desirous of liberty than they, and therefore had put themselves in the field, and had already (besides a great number slain) taken nine or ten score gentlemen prisoners, whom they had there well and fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, and were not yet of number enough to keep the field against the prince’s forces, they were come to them for succour; knowing that daily more and more of their quality would flock unto them, but that in the meantime, lest their prince should pursue them, or the Lacedaemonian king and nobility (for the likeness of the cause) fall upon them, they desired that if there were not room enough for them in the town, that yet they might encamp under the walls, and for surety have their prisoners (who were such men as were able to make their peace) kept within the town.
The Helots made but a short consultation, being glad that their contagion had spread itself into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out between them and their king, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts of Greece; besides their greediness to have so many gentlemen in their hands, in whose ransoms they already meant to have a share; to which haste of concluding, two things well helped; the one, that their captain, with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace with the state of Lacedaemon: the second, that over-many good fortunes began to breed a proud recklessness[b1-02] in them; therefore sending to view the camp, and finding that by their speech they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no war, never suspecting a private man’s credit could have gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chains upon the gentlemen) they granted not only leave for the prisoners, but for some others of the company, and to all, that they might harbour under the walls. So opened they the gates, and received in the carts, which being done, and Palladius seeing fit time, he gave the sign, and shaking off their chains (which were made with such art, that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that wore them might easily loose them) drew their swords hidden in the carts, and so setting upon the ward, made them to fly either from the place, or from their bodies, and so give entry to all the force of the Arcadians before the Helots could make any head to resist them.
But the Helots, being men hardened against dangers, gathered (as well as they could) together in the market-place, and thence would have given a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slow, heartening them that were forward, but especially with his own example leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots that at first the great body of them beginning to shake and stagger, at length every particular body recommended the protection of his life to his feet. Then Kalander cried to go to the prison where he thought his son was; but Palladius wished him (first scouring the streets) to house all the Helots, and make themselves masters of the gates.
But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten new heart, and with divers sorts of shot from corners of streets and house-windows, galled them; which courage was come unto them by the return of their captain; who, though he brought not many with him (having dispersed most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great number running out of the gate, not yet possessed by the Arcadians, he made them turn face, and with banners displayed, his trumpet giveth the loudest testimony he could of his return; which once heard, the rest of the Helots, which were otherwise scattered, bent thitherward with a new life of resolution, as if their captain had been a root, out of which (as into branches) their courage had sprung. Then began the fight to grow most sharp, and the encounters of more cruel obstinacy: the Arcadians fighting to keep what they had won; the Helots to recover what they had lost; the Arcadians as in an unknown place, having no succour but in their hands; the Helots as in their own place, fighting for their lives, wives, and children. There was victory and courage against revenge and despair: safety of both besides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction.
At length, the left wing of the Arcadians began to lose ground; which Palladius feeling, he straight thrust himself with his choice band against the throng that oppressed them with such an overflowing of valour that the captain of the Helots (whose eyes soon judged of that wherewith themselves were governed) saw that he alone was worth all the rest of the Arcadians: which he so wondered at, that it was hard to say whether he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings: but determining that upon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, fought only to join with him: which mind was no less in Palladius, having easily marked that he was the first mover of all the other hands. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to try each other’s fortune: and so drawing themselves to be the uttermost of the one side, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battle in noise and number, as it was surpassing it in bravery of fighting, and, as it were, delightful terribleness. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardiness darken their wit, nor their wit cool their hardiness: both valiant, as men despising death, both confident, as unwonted to be overcome: yet doubtful by their present feeling, and respectful by what they had already seen. Their feet steady, their hands diligent, their eyes watchful, and their hearts resolute. The parts either not armed, or weakly armed, were well known, and according to the knowledge should have been sharply visited, but that the answer was as quick as the objections. Yet some lightning, the smart bred rage, and the rage bred smart again: till both sides beginning to wax faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, than hopeful to live victorious, the captain of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of fury, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of fury, struck Palladius upon the side of the head, that he reeled astonished: and withal the helmet fell off, he remaining bare-headed, but other of the Arcadians were ready to shield him from any harm might rise of that nakedness.
But little needed it, for his chief enemy, instead of pursuing that advantage, kneeled down, offering to deliver the pommel of his sword, in token of yielding; withal speaking aloud unto him, that he thought it more liberty to be his prisoner, than any other’s general. Palladius standing upon himself, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots that were next their captain, wavering between looking for some stratagem, or fearing treason; “What,” said the captain, “hath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?”
By that watch-word Palladius knew that it was his only friend Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the sea, and therefore both most full of wonder so to be met, if they had not been fuller of joy than wonder, caused the retreat to be sounded, Diaphantus by authority, and Palladius by persuasion, to which helped well the little advantage that was of either side: and that of the Helots’ party, their captain’s behaviour had made as many amazed as saw or heard of it: and of the Arcadian side the good old Kalander, striving more than his old age could achieve, was newly taken prisoner. But indeed the chief parter of the fray was the night, which with her black arms pulled their malicious sights one from the other. But he that took Kalander, meant nothing less than to save him, but only so long, as the captain might learn the enemies’ secrets, towards whom he led the old gentleman, when he caused the retreat to be sounded; looking for no other delivery from that captivity, but by the painful taking away of all pain: when whom should he see next to the captain (with good tokens how valiantly he had fought that day against the Arcadians) but his son Clitophon? But now the captain had caused all the principal Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receive a message from the Arcadians, among whom Palladius’s virtue (besides the love Kalander bare him) having gotten principal authority, he had persuaded them to seek rather by parley to recover the father and the son, than by the sword; since the goodness of the captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (wherewith he was of old acquainted) made him think any other way dangerous. This therefore was done in orderly manner, giving them to understand that as they came but to deliver Clitophon, so offering to leave the footing they already had in the town, to go away without any further hurt, so that they might have the father and the son without ransom delivered. Which conditions being heard and conceived by the Helots, Diaphantus persuaded them without delay to accept them. “For first,” said he, “since the strife is within our own home, if you lose, you lose all that in this life can be dear unto you: if you win, it will be a bloody victory with no profit, but the flattering in ourselves that same bad humour of revenge. Besides, it is like to stir Arcadia upon us, which now, by using these persons well, may be brought to some amity. Lastly, but especially, lest the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom now we have made a perfect peace) should hope by occasion of this quarrel to join the Arcadians with them, and so break off the profitable agreement already concluded: in sum, as in all deliberations (weighing the profit of the good success with the harm of the evil success) you shall find this way most safe and honourable.”
The Helots, as much moved by his authority, as persuaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon Palladius took order that the Arcadians should presently march out of town, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keep them quiet, and ere day came, they might be well on their way, and so avoid those accidents which in late enemies, a look, a word, or a particular man’s quarrel might engender. This being on both sides concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now with infinite joy did know each other, came to kiss the hands and feet of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father how Daiphantus, not without danger to himself, had preserved him from the furious malice of the Helots: and even that day going to conclude the peace (lest in his absence he might receive some hurt) he had taken him in his company, and given him armour, upon promise he should take the part of the Helots; which he had in this fight performed, little knowing that it was against his own father; “But,” said Clitophon, “here is he, who as a father, hath now begotten me, and, as a god, hath saved me from many deaths which already laid hold on me,” which Kalander with tears of joy acknowledged, besides his own deliverance, only his benefit. But Daiphantus, who loved doing well for itself and not for thanks, broke off those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius, for so he called Musidorus, was come into that company, and what his present estate was; whereof receiving a brief declaration of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon that he should not as now come unto him, because he held himself not so sure a master of the Helots’ minds that he would adventure him in their power, who was so well known with an unfriendly acquaintance; but that he desired him to return with Kalander, whither also he within few days, having dispatched himself of the Helots, would repair. Kalander would needs kiss his hand again for that promise, protesting he would esteem his house more blessed than a temple of the gods, if it had once received him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus, Diaphantus assured them that he would die but he would bring him (though till then kept in close prison, indeed for his safety, the Helots being so animated against him as else he could not have lived) and so taking their leave of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius, and the rest of the Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any sort molest the Helots, they straightway marched out of the town, carrying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were already within the limits of Arcadia.
The Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gave themselves to bury their dead, to cure their wounds, and rest their wearied bodies; till (the next day bestowing the cheerful use of the light upon them) Daiphantus, making a general convocation spake unto them in this manner: “We are first,” said he, “to thank the gods, that (further than we had either cause to hope, or reason to imagine) have delivered us out of this gulf of danger, wherein we were already swallowed. For all being lost (had they not directed my return so just as they did), it had been too late to recover that, which being had, we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of the principal men among them, by which means the truce began between us, you may easily conceive what little reason we have to think but that either by some supply out of Arcadia, or from the nobility of this country, (who would have made fruits of wisdom grow out of this occasion) we should have had our power turned to ruin, our pride to repentance and sorrow. But now, the storm as it fell, so it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly than his age or quarrel deserved, becomes a sharply learned experience, to use, in other times, more moderation.
“Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between the kings with the nobility of Lacedaemon and you; which is in all points as ourselves desired: as well for that you would have granted, as for the assurance of what is granted. The towns and forts you presently have, are still left unto you, to be kept either with, or without garrison, so as you alter not the laws of the country, and pay such duties as the rest of the Laconians do; yourselves are made, by public decree, freemen, and so capable both to give and receive voice in election of magistrates. The distinction of names between Helots and Lacedaemonians to be quite taken away, and all indifferently to enjoy both names and privileges of Laconians. Your children to be brought up with theirs in the Spartan discipline: and so you (framing yourselves to be good members of that estate) to be hereafter fellows and no longer servants.
“Which conditions you see, carry in themselves no more contention than assurance; for this is not a peace which is made with them; but this a piece by which you are made of them. Lastly a forgetfulness decreed of all what is past, they showing themselves glad to have so valiant men as you are joined with them, so that you are to take minds of peace, since the cause of war is finished; and as you hated them before like oppressors, so now to love them as brothers; to take care of their estate, because it is yours; and to labour by virtuous doing, that posterity may not repent your joining. But now one article only they stood upon, which in the end I with your commissioners have agreed unto that I should no more tarry here, mistaking perchance my humour, and thinking me as seditious as I am young; or else it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my ill hap to kill his nephew Eurileon, but howsoever it be, I have condescended.” “But so will not we,” cried almost the whole assembly, counselling one another rather to try the uttermost event than lose him by whom they had been victorious. But he as well with general orations as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them see how necessary it was to prefer such an opportunity before a vain affection; but could not prevail till openly he sware that he would (if at any time the Lacedaemonians brake this treaty) come back again, and be their captain.
So, then, after a few days, setting them in perfect order, he took his leave of them, whose eyes bade him farewell with tears, and mouths with kissing the places where he stepped, and after making temples unto him, as to a demi-god, thinking it beyond the degree of humanity to have a wit so far over-going his age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beauty. But he for his sake obtained free pardon for Argalus, whom also (upon oath never to bear arms against the Helots) he delivered; and taking only with him certain principal jewels of his own, he would have parted alone with Argalus (whose countenance well showed, while Parthenia was lost, he counted not himself delivered, but that the whole multitude would needs guard him into Arcadia, where again leaving them all to lament his departure, he by enquiry got to the well-known house of Kalander. There was he received with loving joy of Kalander, with joyful love of Palladius, with humble, though doleful, demeanour of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius regarded with grateful serviceableness of Clitophon) and honourable admiration of all. For being now well viewed to have no hair on the face, to witness him a man, who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to look with a certain almost bashful kind of modesty, as if he feared the eyes of men, who was unmoved by the sight of the most horrible countenances of death; and as if nature had mistaken her work to have a Mars’s heart in a Cupid’s body: all that beheld him (and all that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quick messengers to their mind, that there they had seen the uttermost that in mankind might be seen. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Diaphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the advantage in the moist and fickle impression of eye-sight. But while all men, saving poor Argalus, made the joy of their eyes speak for their hearts towards Daiphantus; fortune (that belike was bid to that banquet, and meant to play the good-fellow) brought a pleasant adventure among them.
It was that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble lady, near kinswoman to the fair Helen, queen of Corinth, was come thither, and desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthy guests with him, saving only Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken up, that he might go in his solitary quest after Parthenia. But when they met this lady, Kalander straight thought he saw his niece Parthenia, and was about in such familiar sort to have spoken unto her, but she, in grave and honourable manner, giving him to understand that he was mistaken; he, half ashamed, excused himself with the exceeding likeness was between them, though indeed it seemed that this lady was of the more pure and dainty complexion, she said, it might very well be, having been many times taken one for another. But as soon as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publicly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus came hastily, and as hastily thought as Kalander had done, with sudden change of to sorrow. But she, when she had stayed her thoughts with telling them her name and quality, in this sort spake unto him. “My Lord Argalus,” said she, “being of late left in the court of queen Helen of Corinth, as chief in her absence, she being upon some occasion gone thence, there came unto me the lady Parthenia, so disfigured, as I think Greece hath nothing so ugly to behold. For my part, it was many days, before, with vehement oaths, and some good proofs, she could make me think that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certainly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more as that all men had even told me, as now you do, of the great likeness between us, I took the best care I could of her, and of her understood the whole tragical history of her undeserved adventure: and therewithal of that most noble constancy in you my lord Argalus, which whosoever loves not, shows himself to be a hater of virtue, and unworthy to live in the society of mankind.
But no outward cherishing could salve the inward sore of her mind; but a few days since she died; before her death earnestly desiring, and persuading me to think of no husband but of you, as of the only man in the world worthy to be loved. Withal she gave me this ring to deliver you, desiring you, and by the authority of love commanding you that the affection you bare her, you should turn to me; assuring you, that nothing can please her soul more than to see you and me matched together. Now my lord, though this office be not, perchance, suitable to my estate nor sex, who should rather look to be desired; yet, an extraordinary desert requires an extraordinary proceeding, and therefore I am come, with faithful love built upon your worthiness, to offer myself, and to beseech you to accept the offer: and if these noble gentlemen present will say it is great folly, let them withal say, it is great love.” And then she stayed, earnestly attending Argalus’s answer; who, first making most hearty sighs, doing such obsequies as he could to Parthenia, thus answered her.
“Madame,” said he, “infinitely am I bound to you, for this no more rare than noble courtesy; but much bound for the goodness I perceive you showed to the lady Parthenia (with that the tears ran down his eyes, but he followed on) and as much as so unfortunate a man, fit to be the spectacle of misery, can do you a service; determine you have made a purchase of a slave, while I live, never to fail you. But this great matter you propose unto me, wherein I am not so blind as not to see what happiness it should be unto me, excellent lady, know that if my heart were mine to give, you before all others should have it; but Parthenia’s it is, though dead: there I began, there I end all matter of affection: I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose beauty if I only had been in love, I should be so with you, who have the same beauty; but it was Parthenia’s self I loved, and love, which no likeness can make one, no commandment dissolve, no foulness defile, nor no death finish.” “And shall I receive,” said she, “such disgrace as to be refused?” “Noble lady,” said he, “let not that hard word be used; who know your exceeding worthiness far beyond my desert? but it is only happiness I refuse, since of the only happiness I could and can desire, I am refused.”
He had scarce spoken those words, when she ran to him and embracing him, “Why then Argalus,” said she, “take thy Parthenia:” and Parthenia it was indeed. But because sorrow forbade him too soon to believe, she told him the truth, with all circumstances: how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitary place, as she happened to make her complaint, the queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking alone in that lovely place, heard her, and never left, till she had known the whole discourse. Which the noble queen greatly pitying, she sent to her a physician of hers, the most excellent man in the world, in hope he could help her: which in such sort as they saw he had performed, and the taking with her one of the queen’s servants, thought yet to make this trial, whether he would quickly forget his true Parthenia, or no. Her speech was confirmed by the Corinthian gentlemen, who before had kept her counsel, and Argalus easily persuaded to what more than ten thousand years of life he desired: and Kalander would needs have the marriage celebrated in his house, principally the longer to hold his dear guest, towards whom he was now, besides his own habits of hospitality, carried with love and duty: and therefore omitted no service that his wit could invent and power minister.
But no way he saw he could so much pleasure them as by leaving the two friends alone, who being shrunk aside to the banqueting-house, where the pictures were; there Palladius recounted unto him, that after they had both abandoned the burning ship (and either of them taking something under him, the better to support him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with over-labouring in the fight, and sudden cold, or the too much receiving of salt-water, he was past himself: but yet holding fast, as the nature of dying men is to do, the chest that was under him, he was cast on the sands, where he was taken up by a couple of shepherds, and by them brought to life again, and kept from drowning himself, when he despaired of his safety. How after having failed to take him into the fisher-boat, he had by the shepherds’ persuasion come to this gentleman’s house; where being dangerously sick, he had yielded to seek the recovery of health, only for that he might the sooner go seek the delivery of Pyrocles; to which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia, had already set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophon’s taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he set forth unto him the noble entertainment and careful cherishing of Kalander towards him, and so upon occasion of the pictures present, delivered with the frankness of a friend’s tongue, as near as could be, word by word what Kalander had told him touching the strange story, with all the particularities belonging, of Arcadia; which did in many sorts so delight Pyrocles to hear, that he would needs have much of it again repeated, and was not contented till Kalander himself had answered him divers questions.
But first at Musidorus’s request, though in brief manner, his mind much running upon the strange story of Arcadia, he did declare by what course of adventures he was come to make up their mutual happiness in meeting. “When, cousin,” said he, “we had stripped ourselves, and were both leaped into the sea, and swam a little towards the shore, I found, by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the land, and therefore returned back again to the mast of the ship, where you found me, assuring myself, that if you came alive to shore, you would seek me; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to perish as to live, so that place as good to perish in as another. There I found my sword among some of the shrouds, wishing, I must confess, if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withal waving it about my head, that sailors by might have the better glimpse of me. There you missing me, I was taken up by pirates, who putting me under board prisoner, presently set upon another ship and maintaining a long fight, in the end put them all to the sword. Amongst whom I might hear them greatly praise one young man, who fought most valiantly, who (as love is careful, and misfortune subject to doubtfulness) I thought certainly to be you. And so holding you as dead, from that time to the time I saw you, in truth I sought nothing more than a noble end, which perchance made me more hardy than otherwise I would have been. Trial whereof came within two days after; for the kings of Lacedaemon having set out some galleys under the charge of one of their nephews, to scour the sea of the pirates, they met with us, where our captain wanting men, was driven to arm some of his prisoners, with promise of liberty for well fighting: among whom I was one; and being boarded by the admiral, it was my fortune to kill Eurileon the king’s nephew: but in the end they prevailed, and we were all taken prisoners, I not caring much what became of me (only keeping the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you know is between us:) but being laid in the jail of Tenaria, with special hate to me for the death of Eurileon, the popular sort of that town conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates; where entering and killing all of the genteel and rich faction, for honesty-sake brake open all prisons, and so delivered me: and I, moved with gratefulness, and encouraged with carelessness of life, so behaved myself in some conflicts they had within few days, that they barbarously thinking unsensible wonders of me, as they heard I was hated of the king of Lacedaemon, their chief captain being slain, as you know, by the noble Argalus (who helped thereunto by his persuasion) having borne a great affection unto me, and to avoid the dangerous emulation which grew among the chief, who should have the place, and also affected, as rather to have a stranger than a competitor, they elected me (God wot little proud of that dignity;) restoring unto me such things of mine as being taken first by the pirates, and then by the Lacedaemonians, they had gotten in the sack of the town. Now being in it, so good was my success with many victories, that I made a peace for them, to their own liking, the very day that you delivered Clitophon, whom I, with much ado, had preserved. And in my peace the king Amiclas of Lacedaemon would needs have me banished, and deprived of the dignity, whereunto I was exalted: which (and you may see how much you are bound to me) for your sake I was content to suffer, a new hope rising in me, that you were not dead: and so meaning to travel over the world to seek you; and now here, my dear Musidorus! you have me.” And with that, embracing and kissing each other, they called Kalander, of whom Daiphantus desired to hear the full story, which before he had recounted to Palladius, and to see the letter of Philanax, which he read and well marked.
But within some days after, the marriage between Argalus and the fair Parthenia being to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladius, selling some of their jewels, furnished themselves of very fair apparel, meaning to do honour to their loving host, who, as much for their sakes as for the marriage, set forth each thing in most gorgeous manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the fine decking so much beautify, nor all the dainty devices so much delight, as the fairness of Parthenia, the pearl of all the maids of Mantinea, who as she went to the temple to be married, her eyes themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and beauty were married. Her lips, though they were kept close with modest silence, yet with a pretty kind of natural swelling, they seemed to invite the guests that looked on them; her cheeks blushing, and withal, when she was spoken unto, a little smiling, were like roses when their leaves are with a little breath stirred; her hair being laid at the full length down her back, bare she was, if the voward failed, yet that would conquer. Daiphantus marking her, “O Jupiter! (quoth he speaking to Palladius) how happens it, that beauty is only confined to Arcadia?” But Palladius not greatly attending his speech, some days were continued in the solemnizing the marriage, with all conceits that might deliver delight to men’s fancies.
But such a change was grown in Daiphantus that (as if cheerfulness had been tediousness, and good entertainment were turned to discourtesy) he would ever get himself alone, though almost when he was in company, he was alone, so little attention he gave to any that spake unto him: even the colour and figure of his face began to receive some alteration, which he shewed little to heed: but every morning early going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without a comforter. But long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true love made ready to mark, and long knowledge able to mark; and therefore being now grown weary of his abode in Arcadia, having informed himself fully of the strength and riches of the country, of the nature of the people, and manner of their laws; and seeing the court could not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certain shepherdish people, he greatly desired a speedy return to his own country, after the many mazes of fortune he had trodden. But perceiving this great alteration in his friend, he thought first to break with him thereof, and then to hasten his return; whereto he found him but smally inclined: whereupon one day taking him alone with certain graces and countenances, as if he were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say unto him.
“A mind well trained and long exercised in virtue, my sweet and worthy cousin doth not easily change any course it once undertakes, but upon well-grounded and well-weighed causes; for being witness to itself of its own inward good, it finds nothing without it of so high a price for which it should be altered. Even the very countenance and behaviour of such a man doth shew forth images of the same constancy, by maintaining a right harmony betwixt it and the inward good, in yielding itself suitable to the virtuous resolution of the mind. This speech I direct to you, noble friend Pyrocles, the excellency of whose mind and well chosen course in virtue, if I do not sufficiently know, having seen such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakness, and not your unworthiness: but as indeed I know it, and knowing it, most dearly love both it and him that hath it, so must I needs say that since our late coming into this country, I have marked in you, I will not say an alteration, but a relenting truly, and a slacking of the main career you had so notably begun and almost performed, and that in such sort, as I cannot find sufficient reason in my great love toward you how to allow it: for (to leave off other secreter arguments which my acquaintance with you makes me easily find) this in effect to any man may be manifest, that whereas you were wont in all places you came to give yourself vehemently to the knowledge of those things which might better your mind, to seek the familiarity of excellent men in learning and soldiery, and lastly, to put all these things in practice, both by continual wise proceeding, and worthy enterprises as occasion fell for them; you now leave all these things undone: you let your mind fall asleep: beside your countenance troubled, which surely comes not of virtue; for virtue, like the clear heaven, is without clouds: and lastly, you subject yourself to solitariness, the sly enemy that doth most separate a man from well doing.”
