Chapter XVI: Book II: {121} (7)

“But I was grown so weary that I supported myself more with anger than strength, when the most excellent Musidorus came to my succour, who having followed my trace as well as he could, after he found I had left the fight with Anaxius, came to the niggard’s castle, where he found all burned and spoiled by the {227} country people, who bare mortal hatred to that covetous man, and now took the time when the cattle was left almost without guard, to come in and leave monuments of their malice therein: which Musidorus not staying either to further, or impeach, came upon the spur after me, because with one voice many told him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant unto me, and in this extremity found me. But when I saw that cousin of mine, methought my life was doubled, and where I before thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victory. For who can fear that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not stranger for the number than for the strange blows wherewith he sent them to a well-deserved death, might well delight me to speak of, but I should so hold you too long in every particular. But in truth, there if ever, and ever, if ever any man, did Musidorus show himself second to none in able valour.

“Yet what the unmeasurable excess of their number would have done in the end, I know not, but the trial thereof was cut off by the chanceable coming thither of the king of Iberia, that same father of the worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you sometimes to mention, who, not yielding over to old age his country delights, especially of hawking, was at that time following a merlin, brought to see this injury offered unto us, and having great numbers of courtiers waiting upon him, was straight known by the soldiers that assaulted us, to be their king, and so most of them withdrew themselves.

“He, by his authority, knowing of the captain’s own constrained confession, what was the motive of this mischievous practice; misliking much such violence should be offered in his country to men of our rank, but chiefly disdaining it should be done in respect of his niece, whom, I must confess wrongfully, he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his son Plangus against him, caused the captain’s head presently to be stricken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged, though truly for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who, alas! poor gentlewoman, was by chance slain among his clowns, while she over-boldly for her weak sex sought to hold them from me, nor yet his own shameful end was so much in his mouth as he was led to execution, as the loss of his goods, and burning of his house which often, with more laughter than tears of the hearers, he made pitiful exclamations upon.

“This justice thus done, and we delivered, the king indeed, in royal sort invited us to his court, not far thence: in all point entertaining us so, as truly I must ever acknowledge a beholdingness {228} unto him; although the stream of it fell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some days being there, curing ourselves of such wounds as we had received, while I, causing diligent search to be made for Anaxius, could learn nothing, but that he was gone out of the country, boasting in every place how he had made me run away, we were brought to receive the favour of acquaintance with the Queen Andromana, whom the princess Pamela did in so lively colours describe the last day, as still methinks the figure thereof possesseth mine eyes, confirmed by the knowledge myself had.

“And therefore I shall need the less to make you know what kind of woman she was; but this only, that first with the reins of affection, and after with the very use of directing, she had made herself so absolute a master of her husband’s mind, that a while he would not, and after, he could not tell how to govern without being governed by her: but finding an ease in not understanding, let loose his thoughts wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royal affairs. A thing that may luckily fall out to him that hath the blessing to match with some heroical-minded lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdom, nor followed by fortune, but thereby was slipped insensibly into such an estate that he lived at her indiscreet discretion: all his subjects having by some years learned so to hope for good, and fear of harm, only from her, that it should have needed a stronger virtue than his to have unwound so deeply an entered vice. So that either not striving, because he was contented, or contented because he would not strive, he scarcely knew what was done in his own chamber, but as it pleased her instruments to frame the relation.

“Now we being brought known unto her, the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds, after once we were acquainted, and acquainted we were sooner than ourselves expected, she continually almost haunted us, till, and it was not long a doing, we discovered a most violent bent of affection, and that so strangely that we might well see an evil mind in authority doth not only follow the sway of the desires already within it, but frames to itself new desires, not before thought of. For, with equal ardour she affected us both; and so did her greatness disdain shamefacedness that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, having many times torn the veil of modesty, it seemed, for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy, which often she had used to her husband’s shame, filling all men’s ears, but his, with his reproach; while he, hoodwinked with kindness, least of all men knew who struck him. But her first decree was, by setting forth her beauties, truly in nature not to be misliked, but as much advanced to the eye as abased to the judgment by art, thereby to {229} bring us, as willingly caught fishes, to bite at her bait. And thereto had she that scutcheon of her desires supported by certain badly diligent ministers, who often cloyed our ears with her praises, and would needs teach us a way of felicity by seeking her favour. But when she found that we were as deaf to them as dumb to her, then she listed no longer stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but directly entered upon them, making herself an impudent suitor, authorizing herself very much with making us see that all favour and power in that realm so depended upon her, as now, being in her hands, we were either to keep or lose our liberty at her discretion; which yet awhile she so tempered, as that we might rather suspect than she threaten. But when our wounds grew so as that they gave us leave to travel, and that she found we were purposed to use all means we could to depart thence, she, with more and more importunateness, craved, which in all good manners was either of us to be desired, or not granted. Truly, most fair and every way excellent lady, you would have wondered to have seen how before us she would confess the contention in her own mind between that lovely, indeed most lovely brownness of Musidorus’s face, and this colour of mine, which she, in the deceivable style of affection would entitle beautiful: but her eyes wandered like a glutton at a feast, from the one to the other; and how her words would begin half of the sentence to Musidorus, and end the other half to Pyrocles, not ashamed, seeing the friendship between us, to desire either of us to be a mediator to the other, as if we should have played one request at tennis between us: and often wishing that she might be the angle where the lines of our friendship might meet, and be the knot which might tie our hearts together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set before you, most dear lady, because by the foil thereof, you may see the nobleness of my desire to you and the warrantableness of your favour to me.”

At that Philoclea smiled with a little nod. “But,” said Pyrocles, “when she perceived no hope by suit to prevail, then, persuaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to do anything, she found means to have us accused to the King, as though we went about some practice to overthrow him in his own state, which, because of the strange successes we had had in the kingdoms of Phrygia, Pontus and Galatia, seemed not unlikely to him, who, but skimming anything that came before him, was disciplined to leave the thorough-handling of all to his gentle wife, who forthwith caused us to be put in prison, having, while we slept, deprived us of our arms: a prison, indeed injurious, because a prison, but else well testifying affection, because in all respects as commodious as a prison might be: and indeed so placed, as she might at all hours, {230} not seen by many, though she cared not much how many had seen her, come unto us. Then fell she to sauce her desires with threatenings, so that we were in a great perplexity, restrained to so unworthy a bondage, and yet restrained by love, which I cannot tell how, in noble minds, by a certain duty, claims an answering. And how much that love might move us, so much, and more that faultiness of her mind removed us; her beauty being balanced by her shamelessness. But that which did, as it were, tie us in a captivity, was, that to grant had been wickedly injurious to him that had saved our lives; and to accuse a lady that loved us, of her love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonourable: and but by one of those ways we saw no likelihood of going out of that place, where the words would be injurious to your ears, which would express the manner of her suit: while yet many times earnestness dyed her cheeks with the colour of shamefacedness, and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the down-cast look of modesty. But we in the meantime far from loving her, and often assuring her that we would not so recompense her husband’s saving of our lives; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him to send us word, that upon our lives we should do whatsoever she commanded us: good man not knowing any other but that all her pleasures were directed to the preservation of his estate. But when that made us rather pity than obey his folly, then fell she to servile entreating us, as though force could have been the school of love, or that an honest courage would not rather strive against, than yield to injury. All which yet could not make us accuse her, though it made us almost pine away for spite to lose any of our time in so troublesome an idleness.

“But while we were thus full of weariness of what was past, and doubt of what was to follow, love, that I think in the course of my life hath a sport sometimes to poison me with roses, sometimes to heal me with wormwood, brought forth a remedy unto us: which though it helped me out of that distress, alas, the conclusion was such that I must ever while I live think it worse than a wreck so to have been preserved. This king by his queen had a son of tender age, but of great expectation, brought up in the hope of themselves, and already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successor of his father’s crown, whereof he was as worthy, considering his parts, as unworthy in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most noble Plangus, whose great deserts now either forgotten, or ungratefully remembered; all men set their sails with the favourable wind, which blew on the fortune of this young prince, perchance not in their hearts, but surely in their mouths, now giving Plangus, {231} who some years before was their only champion, the poor comfort of calamity, pity. This youth therefore accounted prince of that region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection love a young lady brought up in his father’s court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischievously unhappy prince Plexirtus, of whom already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honourable mention, left there by her father, because of the intricate changeableness of his estate, he, by the mother’s side, being half brother to this queen Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as love, alas! doth not always reflect itself, so fell it out that this Zelmane, though truly reason there was enough to love Palladius, yet could not ever persuade her heart to yield thereunto: with that pain to Palladius, as they feel that feel an unloved love. Yet loving indeed, and therefore constant, he used still the intercession of diligence and faith, ever hoping, because he would not put himself into that hell to be hopeless: until the time of our being come, and captived there, brought forth this end, which truly deserves of me a further degree of sorrow than tears.

“Such was therein my ill destiny, that this young lady Zelmane, like some unwisely liberal, that more delight to give presents than pay debts, she chose, alas more the pity, rather to bestow her love, so much undeserved as not desired, upon me, than to recompense him, whose love, besides many other things, might seem, even in the court of honour, justly to claim it of her. But so it was; alas that so it was! whereby it came to pass, that as nothing doth more naturally follow this cause than care to preserve, and benefit doth follow unfeigned affection, she felt with me what I felt of my captivity, and straight laboured to redress my pain, which was her pain; which she could do by no better means than by using the help therein of Palladius, who, true lover considering what, and not why, in all her commandments; and indeed she concealing from him her affection, which she entitled, compassion, immediately obeyed to employ his uttermost credit to relieve us; which though as great as a beloved son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hard-hearted toward him, yet it could not prevail to procure us liberty. Wherefore he sought to have that by practice which he could not by prayer. And so being allowed often to visit us, for indeed our restraints were more or less, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit or intermission, he used the opportunity of a fit time thus to deliver us.

“The time of the marrying that queen was, every year, by the extreme love of her husband, and the serviceable love of the courtiers, made notable by some public honours, which did, as it were, proclaim to the world, how dear she was to that people. {232} Among other, none was either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in itself, than jousts, both with sword and lance, maintained for seven nights together; wherein that nation doth so excel, both for comeliness and ableness, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come, some to strive, some to learn, some to behold.

“This day it happened that divers famous knights came thither from the court of Helen Queen of Corinth; a lady whom fame at that time was so desirous to honour that she borrowed all men’s mouths to join with the sound of her trumpet. For as her beauty hath won the prize from all women that stand in degree of comparison, for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceit of comparison, so hath her government been such as hath been no less beautiful to men’s judgments than her beauty to the eyesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a young woman, a fair woman, to govern a people in nature mutinously proud, and always before so used to hard governors, that they knew not how to obey without the sword were drawn, could she for some years so carry herself among them, that they found cause in the delicacy of her sex, of admiration, not of contempt: and which was not able, even in the time that many countries about her were full of wars, which for old grudges to Corinth were thought still would conclude there, yet so handled she the matter, that the threatened ever smarted in the threateners; she using so strange, and yet so well succeeding a temper that she made her people by peace warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her ladies by love, chaste. For by continual martial exercises without blood, she made them perfect in that bloody art. Her sports were such as carried riches of knowledge upon the stream of delight: and such the behaviour both of herself and her ladies, as builded their chastity not upon waywardness, but choice of worthiness: so as it seemed that court to have been the marriage-place of love and virtue, and that herself was a Diana apparelled in the garments of Venus. And this which fame only delivered unto me, for yet I have never seen her, I am the willinger to speak of to you, who, I know, know her better, being your near neighbour, because you may see by her example, in herself wise, and of others beloved, that neither folly is the cause of vehement love, nor reproach the effect. For never, I think, was there any woman that with more unremovable determination gave herself to the counsel of love, after she had once set before her mind the worthiness of your cousin Amphialus, and yet is neither her wisdom doubted of, nor honour blemished. For, O God, what doth better become wisdom, than to discern what is worthy the loving? what more agreeable to goodness, than to love it so {233} discerned? and what to greatness of heart, than to be constant in it once loved? but at that time that love of hers was not so publicly known as the death of Philoxenus, and her search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to have such leisure to send thither divers choice knights of her court, because they might bring her, at least the knowledge, perchance the honour of that triumph. Wherein so they behaved themselves, that for three days they carried the prize; which being come from so far a place to disgrace her servants, Palladius, who himself had never used arms, persuaded the queen Andromana to be content for the honour sake of her court, to suffer us two to have our horse and armour, that he with us might undertake the recovery of their lost honour; which she granted, taking our oath to go no further than her son, nor ever to abandon him. Which she did not more for saving him, than keeping us: and yet not satisfied with our oath, appointed a band of horsemen to have an eye that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratify the young prince, who, we saw, loved us. And so the fourth day of that exercise we came into the field: where, I remember, the manner was, that the forenoon they should run a tilt, one after the other; the afternoon in a broad field in manner of a battle, till either the strangers, or that country knights won the field.

“The first that ran was a brave knight, whose device was to come in all chained, with a nymph leading him. Against him came forth an Iberian, whose manner of entering was with bagpipes instead of trumpets; a shepherd’s boy before him for a page, and by him a dozen apparelled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuff, who carried his lances, which though strong to give a lancely blow indeed, yet so were they coloured with hooks near the mourn, that they prettily represented sheephooks. His own furniture was dressed over with wool, so enriched with jewels artificially placed, that one would have thought it a marriage between the lowest and the highest. His impresa was a sheep marked with pitch, with those words, ‘Spotted to be known.’ And because I may tell you out his conceit, though that were not done, till the running of that time was ended, before the ladies’ departure from the windows, among whom there was one, they say, that was the Star whereby his course was only directed, the shepherds attending upon Philisides went among them, and sang an eclogue; one of them answering another, while the other shepherds pulling out recorders, which possessed the place of pipes, accorded their music to the others’ voice. The eclogue had great praise: I only remember six verses, while having questioned one with the other of their fellow-shepherd’s sudden growing a man of arms, and the cause of his doing, they thus said:

{234}

Me thought some staves he miss’d: if so, not much amiss; For where he most would hit, he ever yet did miss. One said he broke a cross; full well it so might be: For never was there man more crossly crossed than he. But most cried, ‘O well broke’; O fool full gaily blest: Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.

“Thus I have digressed, because his manner liked me well, but when he began to run against Lelius, it had near grown, though great love had ever been betwixt them, to a quarrel. For Philisides breaking his staves with great commendation, Lelius, who was known to be second to none in the perfection of that art, ran ever over his head, but so finely to the skilful eyes, that one might well see he showed more knowledge in missing, than others did in hitting. For if so gallant a grace his staff came swimming close over the crest of the helmet, as if he would represent the kiss, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moved with it, while he thought Lelius would show a contempt of his youth: till Lelius, who therefore would satisfy him, because he was his friend, made him know that to such bondage he was for so many courses tied by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellency, and whose injuries he could never otherwise return, than honours.

“But so by Lelius’s willing missing was the odds of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of a knight, though fostered so by the Muses, as many times the very rustic people left both their delights and profits to hearken to his songs, yet could he so well perform all armed sports, as if he had never had any other pen than a lance in his hand. He came in like a wild man, but such a wildness as showed his eyesight had tamed him, full of withered leaves, which though they fell not, still threatened falling. His impresa was a mill-horse still bound to go in one circle; with those words, ‘Data fata secutus.’ But after him the Corinthian knights absolutely prevailed, especially a great nobleman of Corinth, whose device was to come without any device, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was, but so new, as his newness shamed most of the others’ long exercise. Then another, from whose tent I remember a bird was made fly, with such art to carry a written embassage among the ladies, that one might say, if a live bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? then he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure lively representing the Phoenix, the fire took so artificially as it consumed the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frozen knight, frozen in despair; but his armour so naturally representing ice, and all his {235} furniture so lively answering thereto, as yet did I never see anything that pleased me better.

“But the delight at those pleasing sights have carried me too far into an unnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice, most excellent lady! that you know, the Corinthians that morning in the exercise, as they had done the days before, had the better; Palladius neither suffering us nor himself, to take in hand the party till the afternoon, when we were to fight in troops, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpness of the weapons was taken away. But in the trial, Palladius, especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me, himself truly behaving himself nothing like a beginner, brought the honour to rest itself that night on the Iberian side, and the next day, both morning and afternoon being kept by our party. He, that saw the time fit for the delivery he intended, called unto us to follow him, which we both bound by oath, and willing by goodwill, obeyed, and so the guard not daring to interrupt us, he commanding passage, we went after him upon the spur, to a little house in a forest near by; which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we might go further from his mother’s fury, whereat he was no less angry and ashamed, than desirous to obey Zelmane.

“But his mother, as I learned since, understanding by the guard her son’s conveying us away, forgetting her greatness, and resigning modesty to more quiet thoughts, flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she herself would follow us. But what she did, being rather with vehemency of passion that conduct of reason, made her stumble while she ran, and by her own confusion hinder her own desires. For so impatiently she commanded, as a good while nobody knew what she commanded, so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be already past the confines of her kingdom before she overtook us: and overtake us she did in the kingdom of Bithynia, not regarding shame, or danger of having entered into another’s dominions, but, having with her about threescore horsemen, straight commanded to take us alive, and not to regard her son’s threatening therein, which they attempted to do, first by speech, and then by force. But neither liking their eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few words in a just defence, able to resist many unjust assaulters. And so Musidorus’s incredible valour, beating down all lets, made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to do to overcome weak wrong.

“And now had we the victory in effect without blood, when Palladius, heated with the fight, and angry with his mother’s fault, so pursued our assailers, that one of them, who as I heard since, had before our coming been a special minion of Andromana’s, and {236} hated us for having dispossessed him of her heart, taking him to be one of us, with a traitorous blow slew his young prince, who falling down before our eyes, whom he especially had delivered; judge, sweetest lady, whether anger might not be called justice in such a case: once, so it wrought in us, that many of his subjects’ bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.

“All this while disdain, strengthened by the fury of a furious love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat; and when she saw us light down to see what help we might do to the helpless Palladius, she came running madly unto us, then no less threatening, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceived it was her only son that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the use of reasonable, and almost sensible part, then only did misfortune lay his own ugliness upon her fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come; especially finding in us rather detestation than pity, considering the loss of that young prince, and resolution presently to depart, which still she laboured to stay. But deprived of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ran to her son’s dagger, and before we were aware of it, who else would have stayed it, struck herself a mortal wound. But then her love, though not her person, awaked pity in us, and I went to her, while Musidorus laboured about Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surgeon than myself, so as I could but receive some few of her dying words, which were cursings of her ill-set affection, and wishing unto me many crosses and mischances in my love, whensoever I should love, wherein I fear, and only fear that her prayer is from above granted. But the noise of this fight, and issue thereof being blazed by the country people to some noblemen thereabouts; they came thither, and finding the wrong offered us, let us go on our journey, we having recommended those royal bodies unto them to be conveyed to the king of Iberia.”

With that Philoclea seeing the tears stand in his eyes with remembrance of Palladius, but much more of that which thereupon grew, she would needs drink a kiss from those eyes, and he suck another from her lips; whereat she blushed, and yet kissed him again to hide her blushing, which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweet a rigour forbade him, that he durst not rebel, though he found it a great war to keep that peace, but was fain to go on in his story; but so she absolutely bade him, and he durst not know how to disobey.

“So,” said he, “parting from that place before the sun had much abased himself of his greatest height, we saw sitting upon the dry sands, which yielded, at that time, a very hot reflection, a fair {237} gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorrow, and every way showed she cared not what pain she put her body to, since the better part, her mind, was laid under so much agony: and so was she dulled, withal, that we could come so near as to hear her speeches, and yet she not perceive the hearers of her lamentation. But well we might understand her at times say, ‘Thou doest kill me with thy unkind falsehood: and it grieves me not to die, but it grieves me that thou art the murderer: neither doth mine own pain so much vex me, as thy error. For God knows, it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torments me to be slain by thee; thou art untrue, Pamphilus, thou art untrue, and woe is me therefore. How oft did’st thou swear unto me that the sun should lose his light, and the rocks run up and down like little kids, before thou would’st falsify thy faith to me? sun therefore put out thy shining, and rocks run mad for sorrow; for Pamphilus is false. But alas! the sun keeps his light, though thy faith be darkened; the rocks stand still, though thou change like a weather-cock. O fool that I am, that thought I could grasp water, and bind the wind. I might well have known thee by others, but I would not; and rather wished to learn poison by drinking it myself, while my love helped thy words to deceive me. Well, yet I would thou had’st made a better choice when though did’st forsake thy unfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha, thy new mistress, will revenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus live happy, though I die.’

“And much more to such like phrase she spoke, but that I, who had occasion to know something of that Pamphilus, stepped to comfort her: and though I could not do that, yet I got thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whom the unconstant Pamphilus had betrothed himself, which had moved the other ladies to such indignation as I told you: neither her worthiness, which in truth was great, nor his own suffering for her, which is wont to endear affection, could fetter his fickleness, but that before his marriage day appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whom she complained, one that in divers places I had heard before placed, as the most impudently unchaste woman of all Asia, and withal of such an imperiousness therein, that she would not stick to employ them whom she made unhappy with her favour, to draw more companions of their folly: in the multitude of whom she did no less glory, than a captain would do of being followed by brave soldiers: waywardly proud; and therefore bold, because extremely faulty: and yet having no good thing to redeem both these, and other unlovely parts, but a little beauty, disgraced with wandering eyes, and unweighed speeches, yet had Pamphilus, for her, left Leucippe, and withal, {238} left his faith; Leucippe, of whom one look, in a clear judgment, would have been more acceptable than all her kindnesses so prodigally bestowed. For myself, the remembrance of his cruel handling Dido, joined to this, stirred me to seek some revenge upon him, but that I thought it should be again for him to lose his life, being so matched: and therefore, leaving him to be punished by his own election, we conveyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestal nuns, where she resolved to spend all her years, which her youth promised should be many, in bewailing the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-doer.

“But the next morning, we, having striven with the sun’s earliness, were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there overtook us a young gentleman, for so he seemed to us: but indeed, sweet lady, it was the fair Zelmane, Plexirtus’s daughter, whom unconsulting affection, unfortunately born to me-wards, had made borrow so much of her natural modesty, as to leave her more decent raiments, and taking occasion of Andromana’s tumultuous pursuing us, had apparelled herself like a page, with a pitiful cruelty cutting off her golden hair, leaving nothing, but the short curls, to cover that noble head, but that she wore upon it a fair headpiece, a shield at her back, and a lance in her hand, else disarmed. Her apparel of white, wrought upon with broken knots, her horse, fair and lusty; which she rid so, as might show a fearful boldness, daring to do that which she knew that she knew not how to do: and the sweetness of her countenance did give such a grace to what she did that it did make handsome the unhandsomeness, and make the eye force the mind to believe that there was a praise in that unskilfulness. But she straight approached me, and with few words, which borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselves understood, she desired me to accept her into my service, telling me she was a nobleman’s son of Iberia, her name Diaphantus, who having seen what I had done in that court, had stolen from her father, to follow me. I enquired the particularities of the manner of Andromana’s following me, which by her I understood, she hiding nothing but her sex from me. And still methought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memory: but liking very well the young gentleman, such I took her to be, admitted this Diaphantus about me, who well showed there is no service like his, that serves because he loves. For though born of princes’ blood, brought up with tenderest education, unapt to service, because a woman, and full of thoughts, because in a strange estate, yet love enjoined such diligence, that no apprentice, no, no bondslave could ever be by fear more ready at all commandments than that young {239} princess was. How often, alas! did her eyes say unto me that they loved? and yet, I not looking for such a matter, had not my conceit open to understand them: how often would she come creeping to me, between gladness to be near me, and fear to offend me? truly I remember, that then I marvelled to see her receive my commandments with sighs, and yet do them with cheerfulness: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as then I thought a childish inexperience, but since returning to my remembrance they have come more clear unto my knowledge: and pardon me, only dear lady, that I use many words, for her affection to me, deserves of me an affectionate speech.

“But in such sort did she serve me in that kingdom of Bithynia, for two months space: in which time we brought to good end a cruel war long maintained between the king of Bithynia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I, dividing ourselves to either side, found means, after some trial we had made of ourselves, to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great peace between themselves as love toward us for having made the peace. Which done, we intended to return through the kingdom of Galatia, called Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who, we were sure, first with the shipwreck, and then with the other dangers we daily passed, should have little rest in their thoughts till they saw us. But we were not entered into that kingdom, when by the noise of a great fight we were guided to a pleasant valley, which like one of those circuses, which in great cities somewhere doth give a pleasant spectacle of running horses, so of either side, stretching itself in a narrow length, was it hemmed in by woody hills, as if indeed nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we beheld one of the cruellest fights between two knights that ever hath adorned the most martial story. So as I must confess, a while we stood bewondered, another while delighted with the rare beauty thereof; till seeing such streams of blood, as threatened a drowning of life, we galloped toward them to part them. But we were prevented by a dozen armed knights, or rather villains, who using this time of their extreme feebleness, altogether set upon them. But common danger broke off particular discord, so that, though with a dying weakness, with a lively courage they resisted, and by our help drove away, or slew those murdering attemptors: among whom we happened to take alive the principal. But going to disarm those two excellent knights, we found, with no less wonder to us than astonishment to themselves, that they were the two valiant, and indeed famous brothers, Tydeus and Telenor, whose adventure, as afterward we made that ungracious wretch confess, had thus fallen out.

{240}

“After the noble prince Leonatus had by his father’s death, succeeded in the kingdom of Galatia, he forgetting all former injuries, had received that naughty Plexirtus into a strange degree of favour, his goodness being as apt to be deceived, as the other’s craft was to deceive; till by plain proof, finding that the ungrateful man went about to poison him, yet would he not suffer his kindness to be overcome, not by justice itself; but calling him to him, used words to this purpose; ‘Plexirtus,’ said he, ‘this wickedness is found by thee; no good deeds of mine have been able to keep it down in thee: all men counsel me to take away thy life, likely to bring forth nothing but as dangerous as wicked effects; but I cannot find it in my heart, remembering what father’s son thou art: but since it is the violence of ambition which perchance pulls thee from thine own judgment, I will see whether the satisfying that, may quiet the ill-working of thy spirits. Not far hence is the great city of Trebizond; which, with the territory about it, anciently pertained unto this crown; now unjustly possessed, and as unjustly abused by those who have neither title to hold it, nor virtue to rule it. To the conquest of that for thyself I will lend thee force, and give thee my right: go therefore, and, with less unnaturalness glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learn virtue.’

“Plexirtus, mingling foresworn excuses with false-meant promises, gladly embraced the offer: and hastily sending back for those two brothers, who at that time were with us succouring the gracious queen Erona, by their virtue chiefly, if not only, obtained the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeed, done by them, gave them such an authority, that though he reigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them because they only deserved honour, and many thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound unto them: while they likewise, with a certain sincere boldness of self-warranting friendship, accepted all openly and plainly, thinking nothing should ever by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were was his.

“But he, who by the rules of his own mind, could construe no other end of men’s doings but self-seeking, suddenly feared what they could do, and as suddenly suspected what they would do, and as suddenly hated them, as having both might and mind to do. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their own valour, and others’ affection, he durst not take open way against them, and as hard it was to take a secret, they being so continually followed by the best, and every way ablest of that region: and therefore used this devilish slight which I will tell you, not doubting, most wicked man, to turn their own friendship toward him to {241} their own destruction. He, knowing that they well knew there was no friendship between him and the new king of Pontus, never since he succoured Leonatus, and us, to his overthrow, gave them to understand, that of late there had passed secret defiance between them, to meet privately at a place appointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatness, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go back. Yet feigning to find himself weak, by some counterfeit infirmity, the day drawing near, he requested each of them to go in his stead, making either of them swear to keep the matter secret, even each from other, delivering the self-same particularities to both; but that he told Tydeus, the king would meet him in a blue armour; and Telenor that it was a black armour: and with wicked subtlety, as if it had been so appointed, caused Tydeus to take a black armour, and Telenor a blue; appointing them ways how to go, so that he knew they should not meet till they came to the place appointed, where each promised to keep silence, lest the king should discover it was not Plexirtus; and there in a wait had he laid those murderers, that who overlived the other should by them be dispatched: he not daring trust no more than those with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few till themselves, by themselves, were weakened.

“This we learned chiefly by the chief of those way-beaters, after the death of those two worthy brothers, whose love was no less than their valour: but well we might find much thereof by their pitiful lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and saw each other, in despite of the surgery we could do unto them, striving who should run fastest to the goal of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, than in himself; cursing their own hands for doing, and their breasts for not sooner suffering; detesting their unfortunately-spent time in having served so ungrateful a tyrant, and accusing their folly in having believed he could faithfully love, who did not love faithfulness; wishing us to take heed how we placed our goodwill upon any other ground than proof of virtue: since length of acquaintance, mutual secrecies, nor heat of benefits could bind a savage heart; no man being good to other, that is not good in himself. Then, while any hope was, beseeching us to leave the care of him that besought, and only look to the other. But when they found by themselves, and us, no possibility, they desired to be joined; and so embracing and craving that pardon each of other which they denied to themselves, they gave us a most sorrowful spectacle of their death; leaving few in the world behind them, their matches in anything, if they had soon enough known the ground and limits of friendship. But with woeful hearts we caused those bodies to {242} be conveyed to the next town of Bithynia, where we learning thus much, as I have told you, caused the wicked historian to conclude his story with his own well-deserved death.

“But then, I must tell you, I found such woeful countenances in Daiphantus, that I could not much marvel, finding them continue beyond the first assault of pity, how the case of strangers, for further I did not conceive, could so deeply pierce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame and sorrow she took of her father’s faultiness, partly with the fear that the hate I conceived against him, would utterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever I should know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fair colour decayed, and daily and hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorrowfulness, which oft I sought to learn, and help. But she as fearful as loving, still concealed it: and so decaying still more and more in the excellency of her fairness, but that whatsoever weakness took away, pity seemed to add: yet still she forced herself to wait on me with such care and diligence, as might well show had been taught in no other school but love.

“While we, returning again to embark ourselves for Greece, understood that the mighty Otanes, brother to Barzanes, slain by Musidorus in the battle of the six princes, had entered upon the kingdom of Pontus, partly upon the pretences he had to the crown, but principally, because he would revenge upon him whom he knew we loved, the loss of his brother, thinking, as indeed he had cause, that wheresoever we were, hearing of his extremity, we would come to relieve him; in spite whereof he doubted not to prevail, not only upon the confidence of his own virtue and power, but especially because he had in his company two mighty giants, sons to a couple whom we slew in the same realm; they having been absent at their father’s death, and now returned, willingly entered into his service, hating more than he, both us and that king of Pontus. We therefore with all speed went thitherward, but by the way this fell out, which whensoever I remember without sorrow, I must forget withal, all humanity.

“Poor Diaphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs conquer the delicacy of her constitution, and force herself to wait on me: till one day going toward Pontus, we met one who in great haste went seeking for Tydeus and Telenor, whose death as yet was not known unto the messenger; who, being their servant, and knowing how dearly they loved Plexirtus, brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in present danger of a cruel death, if by the valiantness of one of the best knights of the world, he were not rescued: we enquired no further of the matter, being glad he should now to his loss find what an unprofitable treason it had been unto him, to dismember himself of two such friends, {243} and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his master’s destruction by the falsehood of Plexirtus.

“But the grief of that, finding a body already brought to the last degree of weakness, so overwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell suddenly into deadly swoonings; never coming to herself, but that withal she returned to make most pitiful lamentations; most strange unto us, because we were far from guessing the ground thereof. But finding her sickness such as began to print death in her eyes, we made all haste possible to convey her to the next town: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, and she might find in herself, that the harbingers of over-hasty death had prepared his lodging in that dainty body, which she undoubtedly feeling, with a weak cheerfulness showed comfort therein, and then desiring us both to come near her, and that nobody else might be present; with pale, and yet, even in paleness, lovely lips: ‘Now or never, and never indeed but now it is time for me,’ said she, ‘to speak: and I thank death which gives me leave to discover that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath been the sharpest spur that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my lords, and especially you my lord and master Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the unfortunate Zelmane, who for your sake caused my, as unfortunate, lover and cousin Palladius, to leave his father’s court, and consequently, both him and my aunt, his mother, to lose their lives. For your sake myself have become, of a princess, a page, and for your sake have put off the apparel of a woman, and, if you judge not more mercifully, the modesty.’ We were amazed at her speech, and then had, as it were, new eyes given us to perceive that which before had been a present stranger to our minds: for indeed forthwith we knew it to be the face of Zelmane, whom before we had known in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pity laying her pain upon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tenderness of goodwill, pretending indeed better hope than I had of her recovery.

“But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant that shortly would oppress her: ‘No, my dear master,’ said she, ‘I neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would never have loved me,’ and with that word she wept, ‘nor, alas! had it been reason you should, considering many ways my unworthiness. It sufficeth me that the strange course I have taken, shall to your remembrance witness my love; and yet this breaking of my heart, before I would discover my pain will make you, I hope, think that I was not altogether unmodest. Think of me so, dear master, and that thought shall be my life;’ and with that languishingly looking upon me; ‘and I pray you,’ said she, ‘even by those dying eyes of {244} mine, which are only sorry to die because they shall lose your sight, and by those polled locks of mine which, while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curls, the testimony of my servitude, and by the service I have done you, which God knows hath been full of love, think of me after my death with kindness, though you cannot with love. And whensoever ye shall make any other lady happy with your well-placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speak of it, not with scorn, but with pity.’ I assure you, dear princess, of my life (for how could it be otherwise) her words and her manner, with the lively consideration of her love, so pierced me, that though I had divers griefs before, yet methought I never felt till then how much sorrow infeebleth all resolution: for I could not choose but yield to the weakness of abundant weeping; in truth with such grief, that I could willingly at that time have changed lives with her.