Chapter XLII: Book VI: {633} (2)

“The King having dismissed the council, acquaints me with these his proceedings, setting forth, with no mean pride, the pregnancy of his own wit, who had found a way to over-reach such grey-bearded dotards: ‘For,’ said he, ‘you shall that night when you are thought to be poisoned be conveyed hence (by two of chiefest trust about me) unto my castle of Nicos; then will I cause a statue, formed to your proportion, to be coffined up, on which, forsooth, my grave council shall solemnly wait, and perform the obsequies in that ceremony requisite; meantime you shall live, {652} and live beloved of him who hath undergone this dangerous enterprise, and will do many more to endear his affection to you. And when the limbs of this disjointed state be set again, you shall be restored to be yourself, and to enjoy this crown of Laconia so much envied you: till when, I lock these projects in the closet of your secrecy.’

“The good King was scarce gone from me when I made Lemnia of counsel with me, who, seeing the fitness of the time, seeing my journey to Nicos was to be performed in the night, and the easy execution of so dangerless an enterprise, my guard being only two of the King’s servants, she gives in charge to a sufficient number of such whom she knew faithful to her, to meet them mid way, and after they had well beaten my convoy, to discharge them of the suspicion of their consenting to the fact, to carry me to the next seaport, where there staid a ship bound for Delphos, to which I needs would bend my course. This being resolved upon, the lady (equally troubled with the care of my safety and the loss of my presence) wept many tears, which I confess, had been ingratitude in me not to second; so as a while sorrow seemed to have flown thither to bathe herself in our eyes: but love, at length, in both of one another’s good, had well near claimed this passion, when the guard appointed by the King, was come and ready to carry me to court. But why should I, great sir, any longer stay you in a story, whose tediousness I am well assured hath tired you? Know therefore, that this means of my safety was as fortunately executed as happily contrived: the King not once daring to send to seek me, lest he should by that discover his own craft used in this dangerous deluding of the Laconian noblemen.

“But I was scarce a month absent, when he, whose eyes held the reins of his constancy, the object being removed, married (as it was before determined) the beauteous Lemnia, who, now in possession of his love, sticked not to make known to him this whole matter, which otherwise in her behalf I was bound to keep secret. Thus, Sir, if my desire to obey your commands hath made the story of my misfortunes tedious, you may excuse me, since all is done for your satisfaction.”

“Fair Queen,” replied Basilius, “the sweetly-delivered strangeness of the story would still ravish the hearers with a desire of a further cause of attentiveness, did not a greater desire in us, who know your virtues, hasten to hear the end of your much pitied distress.” And so, calling Amphialus to him, having agreed on the day of marriage between the Queen and him, they all arose; for now their appetites (growing jealous of the satisfaction their minds received by the former discourse) began to solicit them in the behalf of their stomachs.

{653}

After dinner, when most of the company began to imp the wings of time with the feathers of several recreations, Amphialus and Helen privately went together into an arbour in the garden, where, first with tears, the common apology of overjoyed affection, they speak their minds in silence, their panting hearts, as they embraced, with mutual desire, beating their envious garments that gave them not leave to meet. At length Helen, gracefully shaking her head as if she would shake away the drops that, like the morning-dew on full ripe cherries, hung on her rosy cheeks: “O Amphialus!” said she, and then kissed him, as loth to leave so perfect a sentence without a comma; “I will not say you were unkind, but----,” and there with his lips (loth, loth, belike, to accuse him) she closed up her speech. “My sole happiness!” replied Amphialus, softly wringing her hand, “though the foulness of my fault be no fit subject for her to speak of who breathes nothing but goodness, yet I want not an accuser: my soul sets forth my ingratitude; nor can I yet conceive how mercy can be so far removed from justice, as to find a pardon from my offence: But you have given it, and, if it be any requital, it shall be my after-life’s study to love and honour your virtues, as it was hitherto to offend you.” “It is fit therefore,” said Helen, with the counterfeit settledness of majesty, “we impose a penance upon you for your oversight, and this it shall be, that henceforth you neither speak nor think of that you account your fault: and to help you in obeying my commands, I must entreat you to keep your mind and tongue, for a time, busied in telling me what befell you in your travels since our being at Corinth; and do it not so niggardly, as if you meant to conceal what fame hath so largely blown abroad: yet, if you were exposed at any time to much danger, dwell not there too long, lest I forget I have you here.”

“Most dear lady,” said Amphialus, “to conform my speech to your last request would make me disobedient to your first command. Shall I begin with my departure from you? alas! at what time should I more employ my memory and speech in discovery of my faulty self than now? But I see your eyes begin to take anger into them; I will no longer insist on mine own accusation.

“Know therefore, most constant lady, that, accompanied only with Fidutio my page, when I had passed the limits of your dominion, at that time of day when the high-mounted sun makes least shadows, wearied with travel, and desirous of some shelter from the sun’s violent rays, I laid myself under the protection of an olive tree, thinking to set my mutinous thoughts at peace, but it would not be: these outward signs could not appease the fury of an inward enemy. Thus I lay, dearly purchasing the little {654} ease of my body with the affliction of mind, until mine ears, like faithful servants, desirous to end this dissention between their master and himself, caused all the powers of my mind to join in attentiveness; and mine eyes, loth to be outgone in such good offices, did look that way from whence the noise came; where I might discern six men armed, on horseback, carry a fair lady with them, whose tears and out-cries well showed her indisposition to that journey. This sight moved compassion in me, and pity brought a desire to help her distress, but my horse (divining, belike, my intent, and unwilling to leave his food) could by no means be taken; so that, mad with anger, I began to repeat over all the misfortunes that ever had befallen me, to let this know it wanted no fellows, when there came posting that way, one whom by his haste I guessed to have been of the company gone before. Of whom I entreated to know what fault could be so heinous that might take away the name of injury from so unmanly a violence as they offered to so beauteous a lady: But he, with a scornful silence, smiled, and would be gone; and so, perhaps, he might, had not the narrowness of the way, and his courteous horse that would not tread upon me, compelled him to stay. Whereat his anger burst forth into these threats: ‘Villain!’ said he, ‘thy want of armour shall not excuse thee from a death wilfully drawn upon thee; and though there be no glory, there will be satisfaction in thy overthrow.’ Then, drawing his horse a little back, he alighted, and without further complement, ran towards me: But his fury brought him too hastily to his death, for thinking, belike, his threatening mouth was able to defend itself, he forgot to put by my sword that by good fortune lay in his way, and so justly his death entered at his mouth, whose life I think was in his tongue. At his fall Fidutio came in, who helping to fit on the armour, of which we had disfurnished this unserviceable knight, I mounted on his horse, that seemed to have regarded my haste more than mine own, and riding on the spur, I overtook my company, for so they would needs make themselves, saluting me by the name of my friend Satibarsis. But the better observance soon put them out of that opinion. So that guessing (indeed rightly) that I had killed Satibarsis, and by that means got his armour, without desire to be further than by their own conjecture satisfied, they joined all hands in his revenge. But the lady’s cause was just, whose rescue I came to, and the all-seeing providence that would not see justice over-laid, fought for me. And now five of them had either received their well deserved payment of death, or were kept by their wounds from further opposition, when the sixth, who all this while had held the lady, and looked on, seeing my hand (whose weakness had left such {655} precedents of the effects of a good cause) now set against him alone, took his prisoner by the hair, and with his sword gave her a deep wound in the neck. That inhuman act would have given desire to the most barbarous, and power of revenge to the most cowardly: but he, as if he meant to save me a labour, making haste that their warm blood should meet, with the same sword runs himself through, dying as just a judge as he was a traitorous offender. Amazement would have fixed mine eyes upon him, but the lady’s wound brought them to her succour. Experience on myself, made me skilful, and my fair patient officious, so that tying up the wound, for some time I staunched the blood; she, in the meantime, with her watery eyes bent toward heaven, heartily praying for my good fortune, and many times thanking her destiny, that, with her death, had ended the miseries of her ever-dying life. When I had done comforting her, as I thought, with my opinion of her safety, I entreated to know her name, and the cause of this injury done to her. ‘No, no,’ replied she, ‘courteous stranger, the comfort of my near-coming death (in spite of the torment the memory of my most wretched life puts me to) brings this cheerfulness I now present in my looks: and though the least delay of my end is accompanied with a world of sorrows, yet I am glad, for satisfaction of your demand, my breath is a while preserved.

“‘My name is Leaucade, the only daughter to Count Brunio, a man of large possessions in this country, whom, you may well think, because in expectation of his lands, many sued for, and those not of the meanest esteem: but my carelessness of love had taught me such a carriage, that further than of the favour of my courtesy (of which they did all indifferently partake) none could boast. And this, till about a year since, was my daily practice, disdaining (as most that have not known it do) so ridiculous a passion as I then esteemed love. At which time this Fluento, whose happy hand hath done us both right, came to my father’s court. A neighbour prince, with whom (for encroaching upon the bounds of his territory) my father hath had much dissention. But a reconcilement being made between them, and both alike thinking the best means to persevere in amity were to have us two joined in marriage; without my knowledge (as if it were fit I should be a stranger to their proceeding) determine of the match. But, alas! Sir, at this time I was so far from being at their dispose, that I was not at mine own: for love (I think keeping mischief until it were ripe for me) had presented a gentleman to mine eyes, by birth noble, whose ancestors, all to his father, being men of known virtue in the country, were admitted to the prime offices of the kingdom. But he taking a pride to be unthrifty, and little esteeming these public {656} employments, lavished exceedingly both his fame and patrimony; yet it seemed he only made away his estate to purchase goodness for his child: such a son he was father to, so rare, so excellent. His name was Persidas;’ and at that word the tears gushed forth in such abundance that it seemed her blood had changed his course and colour to run forth at the sluices of her eyes: ‘Alas! Sir, what shall I say of him? or who, from Leaucade, will believe the desert of Persidas? But, alas! if they deserve no credit that love him, in this country you must hear nothing of him; the knowledge of his person, and the love of his virtues, being things inseparable. In him begun this tragedy, in me it ends: for when my father and Fluento had drawn their agreement to a head, then, and not before, he thought it time, he said, to let me know my happiness.’ And thus, finding me alone, he breaks the matter to me: ‘Dear child, I have, ever since the death of your virtuous mother (though much importuned by many) reserved you to these years unmarried, because your content should be of counsel with me in your choice: and happy was this delay for the honour of our house; for, behold! Fluento makes his fortunes serviceable to your will: Prince Fluento, daughter, whose powerful greatness the neighbour potentates stand in awe of: him I have won for you, and so forward we be that this day-fortnight he is to take you to wife.’ ‘Father,’ said I, ‘that your wisdom hath deferred my marriage hitherto to give me the comfort of election, my obedience, my only requital, shall be the same it ever was to you: and yet I wonder, that having attained to these years, when my judgment in my choice may be received, you will exclude me from the end for which I was so long reserved; just like a physician that telleth his patient he hath brought a potion to cure him, yet says he must by no means take it. I must be married to Prince Fluento, and yet your meaning is, I should have liberty to choose; as if this enforcement destroyed not my freedom of election. That he is a man, beyond all respects, as you praise him, fit for your estate, I may well grant you, but that he is unfit for your daughter, I am privileged to say.’ At this, his severe look, before he spoke, began to lay before me my obedience: and when he had walked two or three turns in the room, ‘Daughter, daughter,’ said he, ‘I never thought you were so wilful! Where, I pray you, is there a match fit for your birth, if not Fluento? Beware, beware, you do not give your posterity just cause to curse you, that denied them so great, so good a father.’ I answered that I thought it were too tender a respect of children, whom perhaps I might not have, or should not enjoy, to choose for them, and not a husband for myself, and too senseless a feeling of the honour of my house, to wrong myself to do my birth right. Then kneeling on my knees, {657} ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘solicit me no more, I have not power to grant.’ He hastily, when it was scarce delivered, snatched this word: ‘And why not power to grant?’ said he. ‘Because Persidas is the anchor-hold of my life and love.’ ‘Persidas!’ cried out my father, ‘Now all misfortune fall thick upon me, shall my means help to make up a bankrupt in his estate? Accursed be my fate that gave me life to hear it. Persidas! Why, sure it cannot be.’ ‘Sir,’ said I, ‘if my love were not far past, my desperate presumption would not bring a truth, much less an untruth, to move your anger. And if those after hopes have not clean compelled you to forget you are my father, have pity on me? If so, I crave the trial of the law.’ This last request (after conference with Fluento) finding my obstinacy, he condescended to. But because, I perceive, Sir, you are a stranger here, and that the knowledge of this law doth much concern the story of my present mishap, I will make it known to you.

“This kingdom of Argos, wherein you are, was governed not long since by Phenissa, a woman worthy to have come to that place by election if nature had not bestowed it upon her by descent from her famous ancestors. This queen (that you may see we want not the precedent of greatness to excuse affection) in her father’s life-time, though by him she was promised to Deoxippus, the tyrant of Syracusa, was enamoured of one Eumenes, governor (for the Lacedaemonians) of the island and city of Delphos. And when it well might be thought the king’s death, and her succession, had taken away the restraint of her will, yet she, growing less willing when she was most powerful, like a horse that finding the reins hang loose upon him begins to stay his fury; so she, though by this change she had not received any slackness into her affection, began to tender the cause of her country that lay open to the invasion of her proud enemy Deoxippus, if so she would have made him. Preferring therefore now this common respect, before her private satisfaction, as she had done her obedience in her father’s life-time before her love, she buries herself in the grave of Deoxippus’s loathsome bed.

“When the unexpected news of Phenissa’s marriage came to the ears of her faithful lover Eumenes, his passion (as Agamemnon’s at the death of Iphigenia) can best be expressed in silence, all the wild furies that distracted grief could gather, being summoned to the siege of his soon-overthrown heart: hastily thereupon to the temple his mad passion bears him, where, casting himself at the feet of Apollo, ‘Unjust god!’ said he, ‘have I for this thy ungratefulness given up the offerings of my daily prayers? But if I wrong thy name, show thy justice in revenging my death.’ Whereat, transported with violence of sorrow, running his head {658} against the altar, his bloody brains flew forth of their battered lodging. Soon after, the contagion of a most pestilent air brought such a plague among the Argians, that many daily felt the fury of the gods revenging indignation: amongst whom, the King and Queen (reserved, belike, the more to be punished in their subjects’ calamity) after the desolation of their well-peopled country, both in one day, by the same infection, ended their lives and government; wherewith this mortality ceased, as hitting now at length the mark it aimed at.

“The few remnant of the nobility sent to Delphos to know what fault of theirs had brought these miseries upon their country? Where, being informed of what was past, Apollo advised them to provide, that no such mischief should after happen. They, well weighing whence it arose, being fully satisfied by the oracle, enact this law: that neither private nor public respect should detain a virgin from revealing her love; and if her friends, or parents, think another than she hath chosen more fit for her, the combat between the two shall determine the god’s pleasure. How unwilling I was to hazard my Persidas in this trial, love, that bleeds in the thought of a danger, can best assure you: but his earnestness that it might be so, and the hard constraint that it could not be otherwise, won me to it.

“The day therefore being appointed, Fluento (upon whom fame the flatterer of greatness had pinned the opinion of valour) entered the lists, mounted on a bay courser, whose armour all over represented a green plain, through which ran little rivulets of blood that sprang from the wounds of many centaurs dispersed over all the field. In his shield he bore the counterfeit of Hercules and Deianira, with these words, ‘Endeared by Conquest.’ From him my Persidas drew the eyes and hearts of all the company; his horse was a fiery sorrel; his armour like the azure sky, curiously spotted with many stars (whose glimpse the well set diamonds, by reflection of the sun, represented) showed as if night had flown thither to end, in that assembly, some controversy between her and her brother. In his shield he caused Andromeda and Perseus to be engraven, with these words, ‘Never too dearly bought.’ ‘But I must hasten to the event,’ said she; ‘for long I find you may not enjoy your historian: Know, therefore, that my Persidas, contenting himself only with the victory, when he might have taken (woe is me that he was so merciful!) Fluento’s life, was accepted by my father for his son-in-law; good fortune, as I then thought, changing my husband, and not my day of marriage. In the meantime Fluento, repining at this disgrace, and desirous, even now upon the basest terms to be revenged, plotted a treachery unheard-of against him. This morning, having before heard we {659} were to hunt in this forest, Fluento (with that company your valour hath brought to their deserved ends) lay in wait for us; and when myself and my Persidas (Count Brunio my father, and the rest, having followed the chase) were left alone, behold these bloody villains, coming unawares upon him, with many wounds, sent his soul to that place whither mine (hoping to find a more lasting union in that life than our loves hath done in this) doth also hasten.’ And with this word, her dull languishing eyes began to roll as if they strove to reserve motion in spite of death: yet, raising herself a little, her love found breath to say this, ‘Let me be buried by my Persidas!’ and so grasping my hand, as it were, to put me in mind of her last words, alas! she dies.

“But many tears I could not have bestowed as obsequies upon her, when some of her father’s train, who by chance crossing that way where Persidas lay dead, guided by Fidutio (who, with their helps, had now taken my horse) came to this place; to whom when I had related all what I learned from Leaucade of Persidas’s death, together with her last will, we all joined hands in carrying her to the next village; whither also certain of their fellows (whom they had left behind to that end) conveyed the body of Persidas; from whence, soon after, Count Brunio (having begged of grief a little respite of life to fulfil his daughter’s testament) brought them both with all funeral pomp to his chief city Coniga, where he caused a stately tomb to be built for them, on which this epitaph was engraven,

Love, beauty, valour, when their death drew nigh, Consulted long where they should buried lie: At length, with one consent they hasten’d hither, And chose this place to be intomb’d together.

“Leaving the woeful kingdom of Argos, no better accompanied than with Fidutio, yet better guarded by Satibarsis’s armour, my sorrow, I think, that bore infection with it, made all places where I came, fit stages for tragedies: for, descending into a green valley, where, of each side the rocky mountains threatened the humble earth with the frowns of their downcast brows, I might see a young man leaning with both hands on his sword, breathing as over-toiled with labour, and round about him four or five cast prostrate at his feet, who were dead, or thought their counterfeiting so to be, would prove their best defence against this young man’s fury. But the clashing of my armour had no sooner made known my approach, than he came running towards me, uttering words whereby I might gather his quarrel to me brought the excuse of mistake with it. Not to draw on therefore his misconceived opinion, that his breathless companions did witness would be {660} dangerous for me; ‘Sir,’ replied I, ‘I am so far from maintaining their cause, whose revenge upon a lone man, being so many, mine own eyes do persuade me was injurious, that had I come at the beginning of your fight (though this event shows I should but have robbed you of part of the honour of this action) I would have joined myself to you.’

“‘Alas! Sir,’ said he, ‘to oppose yourself against me (though it were the more unjust) would be the more secure way, for what you see is but a fore-runner of a certain destruction soon at hand. Leave me therefore, courteous sir, and seek for safety: death to me is so grateful that I envy you should be a partner in so great a gain. But it were a fault unpardonable, to have abandoned the most accomplished man that ever mine eyes before that time, beheld.’ My resolution therefore, though hard against his will, must have prevailed with him: so that entreating to know the cause of his former fight, and further doubt, I found his courtesy as forward in the relation of his own danger as it was obstinate in the care of my safety.

“‘Sir,’ said he, ‘seeing my story will be but a heap of misfortunes, I shall do well to lay the foundation myself, than whom the sun looks not upon a more miserable creature: My name is Cariclio, nephew, by his brother Castor, to the King of Natolia, brought up in my youth in the good opinion of my uncle, and the great expectation of many; fortune, then belike, proroguing my miseries until a more serious age should make me more sensible of them: which time had no sooner brought on, but that my ill fate, to train me up for the burden of the mischief that was prepared for me, began by little and little to make me acquainted with the course I was to run; first taking away my father, whose virtuous age deserved (if that may be thought a recompense for desert) a longer time in this life: When he was dead, and that the slippery steps of my rash youth wanted the stay of his fatherly advice, presently (not knowing what one man’s hands I should put the reins of my then unbridled youth into, and yet well seeing I might not trust myself with mine own government) I chose many friends; and being by nature given to hate pride, to eschew a vice so loathsome (thinking it might not be done otherwise) I began to affect popularity. But I had scarce lived thus a twelve-month, when my cousin the King’s son, a young man, who (besides the hope of succession, for which the courtiers did adore him) had nothing more than ordinary in him, grew suspicious of my practices, as he termed them: to which humour (besides the mistrust of his own little desert) his sycophants, the bellows of this fire, did daily add further causes to increase his jealousy. But seeing the discovery of his suspicion would little please the king, {661} who ever since the death of my father had doubled his care upon me; he was compelled to dissemble a good liking towards me. In meantime a truce, made for some few years with the Duke of Amasia, being expired, the war grew hot on both sides. At length, after the trial of many changes in fortune, necessity meditating peace between them, myself being given as a hostage for performance of certain conditions of my uncle’s part, a perpetual league was concluded on: ’Twas now, and not before, mischief began to unmask herself, and take a pride to grow terrible. There was at court, during my abode there, attending upon the Duchess, a lady, by name Alcida, whose many excellencies won as many hearts as she had beholders, nature making her beauty and shape but the most fair cabinet of a far fairer mind. To her, mine eyes at first sight gave up my heart, with so unfortunate an encounter in affection, that this surrender was but a mutual exchange, she having, in a merciful gratefulness, fixed her love on mine. But her parentage, though not base, was so mean in respect of my birth, that thence whole armies of afflictions did invade my mind, equally distracted between my desire to enjoy this my best of happiness and fear of my uncle’s displeasure, on whom this match (for his care and love of me) I was sure would draw on an untimely death. But before I could determine a doubt of so great consequence, the conditions of the league being faithfully performed, I was safely, at a day prefixed, sent back to Natolia, desirous, even in my soul desirous, I am sure, rather by their breach of covenant to have hazarded my life, than thus cruelly to be taken away from her presence, who, far beyond my life, was most dear to me. Soon after my return, the King, as if the gods had stayed him to see the quiet of his state, now that was brought to pass, worn with age, and much broken with travel and care in his last wars, left his kingdom to his degenerate son and successor, who had no sooner seized upon the government, but, meaning to begin his reign with an admirable act of policy, now his power was unrestrained, limits me to the absence from my country, declaring my blood for ever incapable of succession: and not content with this, to such a height his undeserved malice to me was raised, that he dealt with some bad ministers of his wickedness, secretly to make me away. To prevent therefore what was plotted against me, disguising myself, I hastily fled away, and making use of necessity, to further my affection, I put myself into the service of a nobleman here in the court of Amasia, easily remaining undiscovered, among them who would sooner fall out with their eyes than believe that the greatness wherein they lately had seen me, could admit so great a change: by mean whereof, I enjoyed the presence of my Alcida, whose constancy, neither time, nor absence (the mothers of {662} affection) nor what is more, this my change in fortune, could alter.

“‘Thus, while I lived in this happiness of servitude, Mermidon (brother to the Duke) having commanded, with fortunate success, against the Dacians, returned to court, where seeing this lady, he became enamoured of her, to no other end than to satisfy his lust: and thinking, at first (because he was in good esteem with himself) she would have strained her modesty to sue for the acceptance of a present so grateful to him, a while he was silent; but when he perceived the vanity of his fruitless expectation, and found that this delay increased the fury of his passion, dispensing with the majesty he had taken on, he began to make known his love to her (for such a title did he give to so base a desire) forgetting not withal to tell her that to excuse her modesty he had first spoken her wishes. But the virtuous Alcida, loathing as much the thought of such a sin, as she loved the memory of me, together with a resolute denial, let him know how base his mind was that made so injurious a request. Whereat Mermidon, because this answer came unexpected, was so much the more amazed. But bringing arguments from his late practice in the war, he began to think his honour would be the greater, if, after long resistance, he did surprise a well-defended fort: and therefore daily, both by rich gifts, the base enamel of affection, and many promises (which, to win the more upon her, were sent by one of her own sex, who, if example might move her, could tell of such a precedent in herself) did he seek to undermine her resolution. Meantime, my constant Alcida, seeing the intemperance of Mermidon’s lust to bring threats of force with it, not daring to speak with me, because our conference began to be suspected, sent me a letter to hasten her carrying away, appointing this the fatal place of our meeting.

“‘I much rejoiced to be so near my happiness, the rather that since our last conference, I received intelligence that my young cousin of Natolia being made away by one whom he had raised to an undeserved height in his favour, the country was in great distress by the factious ambition of the nobility, and that the best affected to the state, much desired my presence. But these means, how well soever, as I thought, conducing to my happiness, by the unmercifulness of my hard destiny were prevented, as one of those, whom it was my fortune to kill, at his death revealed: for Mermidon having intercepted the messenger, mad with rage to find his hopes crossed by so mean a man as he took me to be, having again sealed up the letter, he caused it to be delivered, and determining to be revenged, sent these men to apprehend me, himself intending to follow presently, leading with him my dearest Alcida, whom, in my presence (to add a glory to the execrableness of the offence) {663} he means to ravish. And now, Sir, you have heard,’ said he, ‘of my birth and fortune, till this time (when, I am well assured, my end is near at hand) kept secret.’

“He scarce had closed up this lamentable story with a hearty sigh, the compendious abridgment of his sufferings, when we might discern Mermidon, with twenty more (so distrustful is treachery though there be no cause to fear) make towards us: but that sight, together with the thought of Alcida’s distress, was a signal sufficient for Cariclio to begin his unequal encounter, so as, like a she-tiger, who, at her return to her cave, finds her little ones to be stolen, with a wild fury, breathing nothing but destruction, he runs amongst them, making way for my willingness to second his attempt. Awhile, the justice of the cause, and Cariclio’s valour (to which the glory is only due) with the death of many, did hold the victory in an equal balance: At length, the multitude of our assailants made injury the stronger, bringing to a death much to be pitied, so incomparable a man at arms as was Cariclio; yet, not before he had, in the sight of Alcida, sent Mermidon to be his harbinger at Charon’s ferry. And when by his death the only stay and support of the fight was removed, if sometimes my desire of revenge made good the ground Cariclio had bequeathed me; alas! how could I long resist without him? Know therefore, excellent lady, that, here I was made prisoner, and, together with Alcida, carried back to court; though I call Cariclio’s ghost to witness, I sought all means to join myself, even in death, a companion to his virtues. The solemnity intended for our execution, and the preparation of new forms of torment for us that had been parties in the murder of the Duke’s brother, won some lingering days of life to the inward torture of our expectation: In meantime the everlasting providence, that by changing the intentions and dooms of men, will let them know there is a power beyond theirs, sent an unexpected mean to help our distress.

“Plangus, the famous Prince of Iberia, at this time making haste with a few, such as virtue had joined partners in his cause, and taking into his army such of Euarchus’s soldiers, as in a tempest at sea were driven to Byzantium, to the succour of Erona (whose story you cannot be ignorant of) and being to pass through Amasia, sent to the Duke to demand a thorough-fare for his soldiers. But he, who of long time had observed an inviolable league with the Armenians, knowing the pretence of this war, and despising the weakness of those few Plangus led with him, not only denied his request, but, gathering a great power of soldiers (whom since his last wars he had kept in garrison in his frontier towns) meant, with the overthrow of her ungrateful nephew, to gratify Artaxia, and her ill-chosen husband Plexirtus. But the excellent Plangus (than {664} whom this age shows not, for conduct in war, a better general) with the well-ordering those few resolute troops, and skilful industry in choice of advantages, in two set battles put him to the worst; after which, the Duke not able to reinforce his weakened power, put himself, with the relics of his late overthrow, into his chief city, wherein we were prisoners; to which Plangus, finding no other resistance, with wonderful celerity followed him: and though the town by nature and art, for site and fortification were thought impregnable, yet being defended but by such, who, by their own loss, held a too superstitious opinion of the enemies, it was soon forced by Plangus’s victorious troops, who believed the success of nothing impossible to which their ever-fortunate captain would lead them. With the sack of this city (wherein he took the Duke, with his son, prisoners) Plangus having enriched his soldiers with the booty, and his own fame by the speediness of the conquest, not able to assure the country to his devotion, otherwise than by dismembering his army, and delaying his chief ends, moved with a necessary clemency, having first received six months’ pay for his soldiers, and the Duke’s son a hostage, to bar his desire of revenge (making Alcida and myself, to secure our freedoms, companions in his travel) he leaves the Amasians to their former government.

“Many days’ journey we had not been in our way to Armenia, when the good Alcida, by the inward working of her thoughts, began to find the burden of her grief too heavy for her, which when the dullness of her ever-watery eyes, and the paleness of her cheeks had betrayed to us, we carried her to a monastery near adjoining, dedicated to Diana, and much famed for the strictness of virgins’ orders that be attendants on the goddess her ceremonies, where having recommended her to the governess of the house, alas! I left her, bound, even by the greatest tie of gratefulness, to follow him whom I owe my life to.

“These former accidents, most dear lady, together with the excellent Plangus’s company, in whom sorrow was drawn to the life, made me reflect upon my ungrateful self, and consider how cruel I had been to you, whose desert passed my best endeavours of requital; so that (far engaged to the memory of your virtues) thenceforth the thought of my most dear Helen, won my heart to a most passionate affection.”

The Queen at this interrupted his speech, with this answer: “My Amphialus, they who follow examples in their actions are to match rightly what they are to do, and what they see done. Leaucade, Alcida, and Erona might justly claim the reward of love, but Helen (whose desert was far short) could expect but disdain.” “Disdain!” said Amphialus, “you renew a punishment your mercy did once forgive.” And here, with tears in his eyes, {665} he would have kneeled to beg a further pardon; but Helen, kissing away the burden his eyes went with, made as much haste to prevent his suit with the like of her own; so that a friendly composition being made (as it well might be where both were parties, and both judges in one cause) the Queen got the continuance of the story (which Amphialus would put off to another time) to boot; and then, willing to discharge himself of the debt he owed for so good a bargain, he thus began.

“Madam, though my memory be a continued record of much sorrow, yet, among the many stories grief hath engraven in me, there is none, compared with the disaster of Plangus and Erona, that deserves compassion: Know therefore, my only happiness, that Plangus having received advertisement how the nobleman, unto whose faithful custody Erona (upon the accord between him and Artaxia) was delivered, being hardly besieged by Plexirtus, and brought to an extremity by famine, had yielded to a composition that if within five days he was not succoured, he must deliver the castle, Plangus therefore over-running the fame of his coming with his presence, the fifth night was near Plexirtus’s camp, where (by one of the enemies whom his scouts had taken) he was informed that late that evening, the keys of the city and fort were given up to Plexirtus, but that he deferred his entry till morning, leaving the next gate to the camp open that all night his officers might prepare a magnificent triumph for him. As for Erona, he would determine nothing of her until he had received the honour due to his victory. At this news Plangus, causing the reporter to be safely kept, and giving to his wearied soldiers some time to refresh themselves after the toil endured in their last day’s travel, an hour before day (rightly imagining the air was then apt to disperse a dull sleepiness among Plexirtus’s careless soldiers) he calls his troops together, and setting before them the easiness of the victory, the riches of the camp, and the necessity of the time, he did encourage them with the repetition of their former conquest in Amasia, the justness of their cause, and the fame of their enterprise; and then presently disposing of them for his most advantage, he sets upon his enemy, who dreamed of nothing but security. But what should I fright you, most dear lady, with the particulars of this fight; it will suffice you to know that Plangus (doing things in his own person past the power of expression) made a bloody slaughter among them. Some few there were that escaped--among whom Plexirtus (fortune being always indulgent to mischief) found in the speed of his horse a dishonourable safeguard for his wretched life. This tumult being soon perceived by the citizens (whom sorrow made watchful, and the well-known treacheries of Plexirtus, suspicious) they as soon imagined this was a practice of {666} his, contrary to his faith given, to sack the town. This once conceived, it seemed by the hideous cries and confused lamentations, that, as sorrow had put on the vizard of night to make grief ugly, so black night had borrowed the mouth of sorrow to implore compassion. The people leaving their walls and houses, ran to their temples and altars, offering up, as they thought, their last devotions to their gods. Nor did this mistake bring forth the effect of mistrust only in the city; the camp had likewise this fear added to their present misfortune; for Plexirtus’s soldiers (like satyrs, frightened with the sound of the horn themselves blow) thinking the vanguard of the enemy had entered the town, and caused this confusion, durst not venture to make themselves masters of it; but between both, unable to determine of a mean of safety, stood fixed in a stupid irresolution.

“Meantime Aurora, weary of aged Titan’s bed, began to warn Phoebe of her brother’s approach, when Erona who had set down in her settled judgment, a death worthy the greatness of her birth, now first giving ear to the cries of the citizens, and misdoubting the same false measure they expected, and not long after, hearing a man armed coming up the stairs to her lodging, she took a poisoned cup, long before for that end prepared, and making haste lest she should be made a present to the proud conqueror the wicked Plexirtus, she drank more than half, when her eyes met with the eyes of Plangus, who, unfortunate gentleman! desirous to be the messenger to Erona of Erona’s freedom, had made this haste. The sight of Plangus stayed her full draught a while; but, unable to satisfy herself how he might come thither, she began to imagine that it was the force of the poison which dimmed her eyes, and placed the character of Plangus (ever present to her mind) upon each object. With this thought she was ready to begin again, when Plangus, falling at her feet, let her know the event of so many dangers undergone for her: whereat Erona being much astonished, lifting him up from the ground, thus said: ‘Prince Plangus, you come in a fit time to receive a hearty welcome, and as hearty a farewell. What I mean by this leave-taking, alas! you will too soon know: Now suffer me, only at such a time when the end will assure you I did not flatter, speak a few words I would have you believe; yet I am sorry, for your sake, I have practised such a mean to work a belief in you: True it is, most excellent Plangus (nor let that truth accuse me of inconstancy) that since the death of Antiphilus, whose memory even at this time is dear to me, though at first the excess of sorrow had closed up my mind from the thought of a second choice; yet, enforced by your desert, and to reward mine own love in rewarding your desires, I was resolved to satisfy you, and make myself {667} happy; but my envious fate, finding the times fit to cause me to despair, hath made yourself the instrument to bar our hopes for ever.’ ‘Dear Erona,’ replied the Prince, ‘what may there now be that the most partial judgment can equal to the excess of content Plangus enjoys in the welfare of his free and loving Erona? for this I have paid the merciful heavens the tribute of my vows and tears: to this harbour, through the sea of grief (having embarked my careful love in the ship of my desire) I have always bent my course; and shall I now, when my wishes be at anchor in so secure a haven, fear fortune? No, no, most dear lady, you are the life and being of what I only esteem happy.’ ‘Alas! Plangus,’ said the sweet Erona, ‘the testimonies of your love have been so many that I fear (and only fear) they who have heard your undeserved affection, and are not present at this my dying protestation, will for ever record, together with my want of judgment, my injury to your virtues.’ ‘Your dying protestation!’ said Plangus, ‘affright not my soul with such heavy news. Long may you live; the Fates must be indulgent to your youth and beauty.’ ‘And perhaps,’ said she, ‘so they might, had not myself hastened Clotho to cut in two the half-spun thread of my life.’ And then she let him know how (to prevent the tortures and disgraces Artaxia’s indignation had prepared for her, seeing the city brought to that desperate state in which he found it, and thinking himself to have been an officer sent by Plexirtus to bring her before him) she had poisoned herself. Plangus at these last words, with a fixed look upon Erona, as if his eyes would for ever dwell there, indenting his hands, and suffering them to fall down, or rather not able to stay them, sinks to the ground, and was a while happy in this excess of sorrow that made him senseless of all sorrow. Erona would have forced herself to help him, but this sight (joined with the inward working of the poison) constrained her to bear him company in his happy forgetfulness of his misfortunes. But when, by the help of her women, her senses were restored, and that my endeavours wrought the same effect on Plangus, as if this had been but grief’s dumb show: ‘Alas! excellent Prince,’ said she, ‘what unexpected effects hath the speech of my death brought forth; and yet though I were silent, I believe the deadly signs in mine eyes, this trembling in my full-swollen veins, and the often set and rise of the blood in my cheeks, would express it. But, my Plangus, should you, whom the world is proud of, take it so to heart? Erona loves you; why so may a more deserving lady: Yet, Plangus, remember me, and it will be the best part of my soul’s life to live in your memory.’ Then, taking his hand, and placing it on her heart, that now proudly began to beat the loud alarm of death, ‘Feel here,’ said she, ‘the battery is begun, and this fort is abandoned of all the {668} powers of life, only my desire to be with you, desperately a while keeps the breach. But, O my Plangus!----’ and at that word death closed up in eternal silence her tongue, that yet still moved as loth to leave her speech imperfect.

“It was a desperate grief, and wild passion, that seized upon the heart of the poor Plangus. ‘Accursed earth!’ did he say, ‘how darest thou support the burden of these many mischiefs cast by the spiteful heavens into this sink of misery? ’Twas I, Erona, brought an untimely set to thy sun-shine of goodness; and do the heavens mean I should breathe that have so much wronged them? What do they do? Will they hear me speak that killed Erona? But they would have me live, to torture me with the memory of my guilt. No, no, I will prevent their project; that were a punishment fit for an ill-meant offence, not an unfortunate.’ And with these words, drawing his sword, and lifting up his bases, he would have run himself through the belly, but I stayed his hand from so unmanly, as I then alleged it, a violence, forcing (with the remembrance of our friendship, and my much prevailing tears) the sword, but not his resolution from him. Then did I begin to allege all that I thought in reason might remove him from this purpose; for well I might see in the unappalled stayedness of his countenance, the greatness of some determination. To all my objections, for a time, his eyes gave a more heedful attention than did his ears; but when I came to call his valour in question, whose unspotted memory hitherto, I said, this last inconsiderate act would accuse of a little firm constancy in bearing the changes of fortune; ‘Alas!’ said he, ‘and will you, my friend, be cruel to me? Is it certain, Amphialus, that it well becomes that courage you would have in your friend, to bear an equal temper both in the frowns and smiles of fortune? And is it not as certain that when the malice of heaven hath joined with fortune in producing a monstrous effect, there cannot be left in man so infinite a power of suffering which he dare oppose to such unlimited works? No, I will not, giant-like, bandy against the gods; such is their will; I must die.’ Then leading me softly over to Erona, as if he would persuade me the violence of passion had not been his guide to this resolution: ‘See Amphialus,’ said he, ‘this is she whom you would have me to live after; what can mine eyes, now she is gone, desire to look on! Erona, a woman, could die for Plangus, and would you have me wrong mankind with a greater fear of death, or my love with a less desire to die?’ This said (but with a countenance that promised no suddenness in the execution, especially to me who was master of his sword, his only offensive weapon) behold! with a downcast look, which sorrow excused, though deceit had then, I am sure, put it on for further mischief, {669} and such a pace as used slowness to the same end, he approached the window, where the remains of Erona’s intercepted draught, appointed by the destinies to be fatal to them both, stood in a gilt cup: This he hastily takes, and as hastily drinks off. I, all confused, pale and trembling, as if the poison had wrought its effect in me, made, alas! too slow speed to him. But Plangus (now first presenting an unfeigned cheerfulness in his looks, as if this draught had given him life) kneeling near Erona: ‘Divine soul,’ said he, ‘if confidence in thy Plangus’s constancy makes thee hover near this sacred mansion of thine to see the end of his sufferings, O stay awhile, and bear me with thee; thy presence, when I appear before Radamanth, will be a countenance to my cause.’ Then turning himself to me, ‘Amphialus, revenge, Amphialus, Erona’s death upon the wicked Plexirtus; his blood will be the best sacrifice to my ghost. Lead the army to Byzantium and restore the Amasian hostage.’ Then putting his trembling lips to the pale lips of Erona, he coldly kissed away his life.