The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
who had fetched many a sower-breathed sigh, for fear Clinias would
accept the challenge. But when he perceived, by his trusty messenger,
that this delay was in effect a denial, there being no disposition in
him to accept it, then lo, Dametas began to speak his loud voice, to
look big, to march up and down, and, in his march, to lift his legs
higher than he was wont, swearing, by no mean devotions, that the
walls should not keep the coward from him, but he would fetch him out
of his coney-burrow: and then was hotter than ever to provide himself
of horse and armour, saying he would go to the island bravely addubed,
and show himself to his charge Pamela. To this purpose many willing
hands were about him, letting him have reins, poitrel, with the rest
of the furniture, and very brave bases; but all coming from divers
houses, neither colour nor fashion, showed any kindred one with
another. But that liked Dametas the better, for that he thought would
argue, that he was master of many brave furnitures. Then gave he order
to a painter for his device; which was a plough with the oxen loosed
from it, a sword, with a great number of arms and legs cut off: and
lastly, a great army of pen and ink-horns, and books. Neither did he
stick to tell the secret of his intent; which was that he had left off
the plough to do such bloody deeds with his sword, as many ink-horns
and books should be employed about the historifying of them: and being
asked, why he set no word unto it, he said, that was indeed like the
painter, that saith in his picture, “here is the dog, and there is the
hare:” and with that he laughed so perfectly, as was great consolation
to the beholders. Yet remembering that Miso would not take it well at
his return, if he forgot his duty to her, he caused in a border about
to be written, “Miso, mine own pigsnie, thou shalt hear news of
Dametas.”
Thus all things being condignly ordered, with an ill-favoured
impatience he waited until the next morning, that he might make a
muster of himself in the island, often asking them that very
diligently waited upon them, whether it were not pity that such a
coward as Clinias should set his run-away feet upon the face of the
earth.
But as he was, by divers principal young gentlemen, to his no small
glory, lifted up on horseback, comes a page of Amphialus, who with
humble smiling reverence, delivered a letter unto him from Clinias,
whom Amphialus had brought to this; first with {361} persuasions (that
for certain, if he did accept the combat, Dametas would never dare to
appear, and that then the honour should be his) but principally
threatening him that if he refused it, he would turn him out of the
town to be put to death for a traitor by Basilius: so as the present
fear (ever to a coward most terrible) of being turned out of the town,
made him, though full unwillingly, undertake the other fear, wherein
he had some show of hope, that Dametas might hap either to be sick, or
not to have the courage to perform the matter. But when Dametas heard
the name of Clinias, very aptly suspecting what the matter might be,
he bade the page carry back his letter, like a naughty boy as he was;
for he was in no humour, he told him, of reading letters. But Dametas
his friend, first persuading him, that for certain it was some
submission, took upon him so much boldness as to open the letter, and
to read it aloud, in this sort.
Filthy drivel, unworthy to have thy name set in any letter by a
soldier’s handwriting, could thy wretched heart think it was
timorousness that made Clinias suspend awhile his answer? no, caitiff,
no: it was but as a ram, which goes back to return with the greater
force: Know therefore, that thou shalt no sooner appear (appear now if
thou darest) I say thou shalt no sooner appear in the island (O happy
thou if thou dost not appear) but that I will come upon thee with all
my force, and cut thee in pieces (mark what I say) joint after joint,
to the eternal terror of all presumptuous villains. Therefore look
what thou dost; for I tell thee, horrible smart and pains shall be thy
lot, if thou wilt needs be so foolish, I having given thee no such
cause as to meet with me.
These terrible words Clinias used, hoping they would give a cooling to
the heat of Dametas’s courage: and so indeed they did, that he did
groan to hear the thundering of those threatenings. And when the
gentlemen had ended the reading of them, Dametas told them, that in
his opinion he thought this answer came too late, and that therefore
he might very well go and disarm himself, especially considering the
other had in courteous manner warned him not to come: but they having
him now on horseback, led him into the ferry, and so into the island;
the clashing of his own armour striking miserable fear into him, and
in his mind, thinking great unkindness in his friend that he had
brought him to a matter so contrary to his complexion. There stayed he
but a little (the gentleman that came with him teaching him how to use
his sword and lance, while he cast his eye about, to see which way he
might run away, cursing all islands for being evil situated) when
Clinias with a brave sound of trumpets landed at the other end: who
came all the way debating with himself, what he had deserved of
Amphialus to drive him to those inconveniences. Sometimes his wit
{362} made him bethink himself what was best to be done: but fear did
so corrupt his wit, that whatsoever he thought was best, he still
found danger therein; fearfulness (contrary to all other vices) making
him think the better of another, the worse he found himself, rather
imagining in himself what words he would use (if he were overcome) to
get his life of Dametas, than how to overcome, whereof he could think
with no patience. But oftentimes looking to the earth, pitifully
complaining, that a man of such sufficiency, as he thought himself,
should in his best years be swallowed up by so base an element: fain
he would have prayed, but he had not heart enough to have confidence
in prayer; the glittering of the armour, and sounding of trumpets
giving such an assault to the weak breach of his false senses, that he
grew from the degree of fear to an amazement, not almost to know what
he did, till two judges (chosen for the purpose) making the trumpet
cease, and taking the oath of these champions, that they came without
guile or witchcraft, set them at wonted distance, one from the other.
Then the trumpets sounding, Dametas’s horse (used to such causes) when
he thought least of the matter, started out so lustily, that Dametas
was jogged back with head and body, and pulling withal his
bridle-hand, the horse, that was tender of mouth, made half a stop,
and fell to bounding, so that Dametas threw away his lance, and with
both his hands held by the pommel, the horse half running, half
leaping, till he met with Clinias; who fearing he should miss his
rest, had put his staff therein before he began his career: neither
would he then have begun, but that at the trumpets warning, one (that
stood behind) struck on his horse, who running swiftly, the wind took
such hold of his staff, that it crossed quite over his breast, in that
sort gave a flat bastinado to Dametas: who half out of his saddle,
went near to his old occupation of digging the earth, but with the
crest of his helmet. Clinias when he was past him, not knowing what he
had done, but fearing lest Dametas were at his back, turned with a
wide turn; and seeing him on the ground, he thought then was his time,
or never, to tread him under his horse’s feet; and withal, if he
could, hurt him with his lance, which had not broken, the encounter
was so easy. But putting forth his horse, what with the falling of the
staff too low before the legs of the horse, and the coming upon
Dametas, who was then scrambling up, the horse fell over and over, and
lay upon Clinias. Which Dametas, who was gotten up, perceiving, drew
out his sword, prying which way he might best come to kill Clinias
behind. But the horse that lay upon him, kept such a pawing with his
feet, that Dametas durst not approach, but very leisurely, so as the
horse, being lusty, got up, and withal began {363} to strike, and
leap, that Dametas started back a good way, and gave Clinias time to
rise, but so bruised in body, and broken in heart, that he meant to
yield himself to mercy; and with that intent drew out his sword,
intending when he came nearer to present the pommel of it to Dametas.
But Dametas, when he saw him coming with his sword drawn, not
conceiving any such intent, went back as fast as his back and heels
would lead him. But as Clinias found that he began to think a
possibility in the victory, and therefore followed him with the cruel
haste of a prevailing coward; laying upon Dametas, who did nothing but
cry out to him to hold his hand, sometimes that he was dead, sometimes
that he would complain to Basilius; but still bore the blows
ungratefully, going back, till at length he came into the water with
one of his feet.
But then a new fear of drowning took him, so that daring not to go
back, nor to deliberate (the blows still so lighted on him) nor to
yield, because of the cruel threatenings of Clinias, fear being come
to the extremity, fell to a madness of despair; so that (winking as
hard as ever he could) he began to deal some blows, and his arm (being
used to the flail in his youth) laid them on so thick that Clinias now
began with lamentable eyes to see his own blood come out in many
places: and before he had lost half an ounce, finding in himself that
he fainted, cried out aloud to Dametas that he yielded. “Throw away
thy sword then,” said Dametas, “and I will save thee;” but still
laying on as fast as he could. Clinias straight obeyed, and humbly
craved mercy, telling him his sword was gone. Then Dametas first
opened his eyes, and seeing him indeed unweaponed, made him stand a
good way off from it; and then willed him to lie down upon the earth
as flat as he could; Clinias obeyed; and Dametas (who never could
think himself safe, till Clinias were dead) began to think with
himself, that if he struck at him with his sword, if he did not kill
him at the first blow, that then Clinias might hap to rise, and
revenge himself. Therefore he thought best to kneel down upon him, and
with a great whittle he had (having disarmed his head) to cut his
throat, which he had used so with calves, as he had no small dexterity
in it. But while he sought for his knife, which under his armour he
could not well find out, and that Clinias lay with so sheepish a
quietness, as if he would have been glad to have his throat cut for
fear of more pain, the judges came in, and took Dametas from off him,
telling him he did against the law of arms, having promised life if he
threw away his sword. Dametas was loath to consent, till they swore,
they would not suffer him to fight any more, when he was up; and then
more forced, then persuaded, he let him rise, crowing over him, and
warning him to take heed {364} how he dealt any more with any that
came of his father’s kindred. But thus this combat of cowards being
finished, Dametas was with much mirth and melody received into the
camp as victorious, never a page there failing to wait upon his
triumph.
But Clinias, though he wanted heart to prevent shame, yet he wanted
not wit to feel shame; not so much repining at it for the abhorring of
shame, as for the discommodities, that to them that are ashamed,
ensue. For well he deemed, it would be a great bar to his practice,
and a pulling on of injuries, when men needed not care how they used
him. Insomuch, that Clinias (finding himself the scorning-stock of
every company) fell with repining, to hate the cause thereof; and hate