The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
shepherds’ persuasion come to this gentleman’s house; where being
dangerously sick, he had yielded to seek the recovery of health, only
for that he might the sooner go seek the delivery of Pyrocles; to
which purpose Kalander by some friends of his in Messenia, had already
set a ship or two abroad, when this accident of Clitophon’s taking had
so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he set forth unto him
the noble entertainment and careful cherishing of Kalander towards
him, and so upon occasion of the pictures present, delivered with the
frankness of a friend’s tongue, as near as could be, word by word what
Kalander had told him touching the strange story, with all the
particularities belonging, of Arcadia; which did in many sorts so
delight Pyrocles to hear, that he would needs have much of it again
repeated, and was not contented till Kalander himself had answered him
divers questions.
But first at Musidorus’s request, though in brief manner, his mind
much running upon the strange story of Arcadia, he did declare by what
course of adventures he was come to make up their mutual happiness in
meeting. “When, cousin,” said he, “we had stripped ourselves, and were
both leaped into the sea, and swam a little towards the shore, I
found, by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to
get the land, and therefore returned back again to the mast of the
ship, where you found me, assuring myself, that if you came alive to
shore, you would seek me; if you were lost, as I thought it as good to
perish as to live, so that place as good to perish in as another.
There I found my sword among some of the shrouds, wishing, I must
confess, if I died, to be found with that in my hand, and withal
waving it about my head, that sailors by might have the better glimpse
of me. There you missing me, I was taken up by pirates, who putting me
under board prisoner, presently set upon another ship and maintaining
a long fight, in the end put them all to the sword. Amongst whom I
might hear them greatly praise one young man, who fought most
valiantly, who (as love is careful, and misfortune {39} subject to
doubtfulness) I thought certainly to be you. And so holding you as
dead, from that time to the time I saw you, in truth I sought nothing
more than a noble end, which perchance made me more hardy than
otherwise I would have been. Trial whereof came within two days after;
for the kings of Lacedaemon having set out some galleys under the
charge of one of their nephews, to scour the sea of the pirates, they
met with us, where our captain wanting men, was driven to arm some of
his prisoners, with promise of liberty for well fighting: among whom I
was one; and being boarded by the admiral, it was my fortune to kill
Eurileon the king’s nephew: but in the end they prevailed, and we were
all taken prisoners, I not caring much what became of me (only keeping
the name of Daiphantus, according to the resolution you know is
between us:) but being laid in the jail of Tenaria, with special hate
to me for the death of Eurileon, the popular sort of that town
conspired with the Helots, and so by night opened them the gates;
where entering and killing all of the genteel and rich faction, for
honesty-sake brake open all prisons, and so delivered me: and I, moved
with gratefulness, and encouraged with carelessness of life, so
behaved myself in some conflicts they had within few days, that they
barbarously thinking unsensible wonders of me, as they heard I was
hated of the king of Lacedaemon, their chief captain being slain, as
you know, by the noble Argalus (who helped thereunto by his
persuasion) having borne a great affection unto me, and to avoid the
dangerous emulation which grew among the chief, who should have the
place, and also affected, as rather to have a stranger than a
competitor, they elected me (God wot little proud of that dignity;)
restoring unto me such things of mine as being taken first by the
pirates, and then by the Lacedaemonians, they had gotten in the sack
of the town. Now being in it, so good was my success with many
victories, that I made a peace for them, to their own liking, the very
day that you delivered Clitophon, whom I, with much ado, had
preserved. And in my peace the king Amiclas of Lacedaemon would needs
have me banished, and deprived of the dignity, whereunto I was
exalted: which (and you may see how much you are bound to me) for your
sake I was content to suffer, a new hope rising in me, that you were
not dead: and so meaning to travel over the world to seek you; and now
here, my dear Musidorus! you have me.” And with that, embracing and
kissing each other, they called Kalander, of whom Daiphantus desired
to hear the full story, which before he had recounted to Palladius,
and to see the letter of Philanax, which he read and well marked.
But within some days after, the marriage between Argalus and the fair
Parthenia being to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladius, {40}
selling some of their jewels, furnished themselves of very fair
apparel, meaning to do honour to their loving host, who, as much for
their sakes as for the marriage, set forth each thing in most gorgeous
manner. But all the cost bestowed did not so much enrich, nor all the
fine decking so much beautify, nor all the dainty devices so much
delight, as the fairness of Parthenia, the pearl of all the maids of
Mantinea, who as she went to the temple to be married, her eyes
themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and beauty were married. Her
lips, though they were kept close with modest silence, yet with a
pretty kind of natural swelling, they seemed to invite the guests that
looked on them; her cheeks blushing, and withal, when she was spoken
unto, a little smiling, were like roses when their leaves are with a
little breath stirred; her hair being laid at the full length down her
back, bare she was, if the voward failed, yet that would conquer.
Daiphantus marking her, “O Jupiter! (quoth he speaking to Palladius)
how happens it, that beauty is only confined to Arcadia?” But
Palladius not greatly attending his speech, some days were continued
in the solemnizing the marriage, with all conceits that might deliver
delight to men’s fancies.
But such a change was grown in Daiphantus that (as if cheerfulness had
been tediousness, and good entertainment were turned to discourtesy)
he would ever get himself alone, though almost when he was in company,
he was alone, so little attention he gave to any that spake unto him:
even the colour and figure of his face began to receive some
alteration, which he shewed little to heed: but every morning early
going abroad, either to the garden, or to some woods towards the
desert, it seemed his only comfort was to be without a comforter. But
long it could not be hid from Palladius, whom true love made ready to
mark, and long knowledge able to mark; and therefore being now grown
weary of his abode in Arcadia, having informed himself fully of the
strength and riches of the country, of the nature of the people, and
manner of their laws; and seeing the court could not be visited,
prohibited to all men, but to certain shepherdish people, he greatly
desired a speedy return to his own country, after the many mazes of
fortune he had trodden. But perceiving this great alteration in his
friend, he thought first to break with him thereof, and then to hasten
his return; whereto he found him but smally inclined: whereupon one
day taking him alone with certain graces and countenances, as if he
were disputing with the trees, began in this manner to say unto him.
“A mind well trained and long exercised in virtue, my sweet and worthy
cousin doth not easily change any course it once undertakes, but upon
well-grounded and well-weighed causes; for {41} being witness to
itself of its own inward good, it finds nothing without it of so high
a price for which it should be altered. Even the very countenance and
behaviour of such a man doth shew forth images of the same constancy,
by maintaining a right harmony betwixt it and the inward good, in
yielding itself suitable to the virtuous resolution of the mind. This
speech I direct to you, noble friend Pyrocles, the excellency of whose
mind and well chosen course in virtue, if I do not sufficiently know,
having seen such rare demonstrations of it, it is my weakness, and not
your unworthiness: but as indeed I know it, and knowing it, most
dearly love both it and him that hath it, so must I needs say that
since our late coming into this country, I have marked in you, I will
not say an alteration, but a relenting truly, and a slacking of the
main career you had so notably begun and almost performed, and that in
such sort, as I cannot find sufficient reason in my great love toward
you how to allow it: for (to leave off other secreter arguments which
my acquaintance with you makes me easily find) this in effect to any
man may be manifest, that whereas you were wont in all places you came
to give yourself vehemently to the knowledge of those things which
might better your mind, to seek the familiarity of excellent men in
learning and soldiery, and lastly, to put all these things in
practice, both by continual wise proceeding, and worthy enterprises as
occasion fell for them; you now leave all these things undone: you let
your mind fall asleep: beside your countenance troubled, which surely
comes not of virtue; for virtue, like the clear heaven, is without
clouds: and lastly, you subject yourself to solitariness, the sly
enemy that doth most separate a man from well doing.”
Pyrocles’s mind was all this while so fixed upon another devotion,
that he no more attentively marked his friend’s discourse than the
child that hath leave to play marks the last part of his lesson; or
the diligent pilot in a dangerous tempest doth attend the unskilful
words of a passenger: yet the very sound having imprinted the general
points of his speech in his heart, pierced with any mislike of so
dearly an esteemed friend, and desirous by degrees to bring him to a
gentler consideration of him, with a shame-faced look (witnessing he
rather could not help, than did not know his fault) answered him to
this purpose: “Excellent Musidorus! in the praise you gave me in the
beginning of your speech, I easily acknowledge the force of your good
will unto me; for neither could you have thought so well of me, if
extremity of love had not made your judgment partial, nor could you
have loved me so entirely if you had not been apt to make so great,
though undeserved, judgments of me; and even so much I say to those
imperfections to which, though I have ever through weakness been {42}
subject, yet you by the daily mending of your mind have of late been
able to look into them, which before you could not discern; so that
the change you speak of falls not out by my impairing, but by your
bettering. And yet under the leave of your better judgment, I must
needs say thus much (my dear cousin!) that I find not myself wholly to
be condemned because I do not with continual vehemency follow those
knowledges, which you call the bettering of my mind; for both the mind
itself must, like other things, sometimes be unbent, or else it will
be either weakened, or broken, and these knowledges, as they are of
good use, so are they not all the mind may stretch itself unto: who
knows whether I feed not my mind with higher thoughts? Truly, as I
know not all the particularities, so yet I see the bounds of all these
knowledges: but the workings of the mind I find much more infinite
than can be led unto by the eye, or imagined by any that distract
their thoughts without themselves. And in such contemplation, or, as
I think, more excellent, I enjoy my solitariness, and my solitariness