“‘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 publicemployments, 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,‘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 headagainst 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 wewere 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.
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 bedangerous 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,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 ofaffection) 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)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 (thanwhom 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,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 ofhis, 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 myselfhappy; 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 thepowers 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,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.
“What my sorrow was, to be a looker on these tragedies, these tears, even at the remembrance of that time, may testify; yet leaving the bodies to be embalmed with the nobleman, who, in her life-time, had been faithful to Erona, dissembling the death of Plangus, lest it should work an innovation among the soldiers, with some choice troops of light horsemen, I followed Plexirtus, who, posting to court, had received advertisement from thence, how Arguto (the admirable engine by whom he wrought much mischief) being lately fallen from the faith vowed to his practices, had revealed to Artaxia the purpose his master had to dispatch her out of his way, since now he had a son by her to whom he might be guardian, esteeming it more content to be great alone than to share the royalties of her own kingdom with Artaxia. These news made his flight as dangerous as would be his stay; but when he understood (for the heavens had made this the rendezvous where his misfortunes should meet) that the Princes of Thessaly and Macedon, of whom his treacheries were to expect their just reward, did live, and should be happy in the addition of Arcadia to their greatness; that Leonatus had seized upon his seigniories in Trebizond for his treason to Pyrocles and Musidorus, of which not long before he had gloriously boasted; that there was no new form of dissimulation left, to which, in this extremity, he might have recourse: O then the ugliness of his guilty conscience, that until this time had made peace with his wickedness, presented before him the progress of his ill-spent days, drawn to life in the colours of despair: now his father, now his friends, Tydeus and Telenor were summoned by his soul to make party against him. In this fright he continued all that day,which scarce was time sufficient for him to read over his misdeeds, and when the silent night, drawn in her ebon chariot, had spread her curtains to hide her brother’s face, Plexirtus, glad to see her flatter his mind in this likeness of darkness, resolved, by despair, that the gods wanted mercy for his faults, and well-assured men had less, he secretly went into a garden, to which a back-door from his chamber led him; where, loathing as much to die, as wishing he were dead, he spent some time in execrations on himself. At length, tying a cord (newly taken out of his bed) to the stump of an elder tree that stood with such convenience as if it would invite him to that exercise, he slipped into his death, easing the earth until morning of the burden of so detestable a wretch.
“But when the day appeared, and made known his death, the magistrates of the town, striving who could be best-sighted in the discovery of the murder, hoping to have the reward of their diligence from the Queen Artaxia, soon found out, as a man to be most suspected, the messenger come from court, whom Plexirtus had, till late in the night, kept in his chamber, to know of him the particulars of Arguto’s revolt. This fellow, because none more likely in the wild form of their popular justice, was to die a thousand manner of deaths; but he making just protestations of his innocency, being questioned what occasion he had so long to stay the last night with the king if not for that end, he plainly let them know what Arguto discovered, which he then reported to Plexirtus. The many-headed multitude called not the truth much in question of what they heard, but with the same violence as before, everyone, in this also thinking to gratify the queen, ran to as uncertain a form of execution on the dead as they did before to a judgment of the living; first they stripped the body naked, then dragged it through the streets; now they open his belly and suffer his guts to mark forth his progress, doing many more indignities to him who had deserved many more. I much rejoiced to hear Plexirtus had been so just to himself; yet I determined to join Erona’s revenge on Artaxia to Plexirtus’s judgment on himself; but her an untimely death had freed from my revenge, for taking to the heart Plexirtus’s treacheries, and her brother Tyridates’s unrevenged death, she calmly gave herself over to a life-oppressing grief, leaving her kingdom and young son to the care of Salindor, whom she appointed protector during the minority.
“Returning, therefore, somewhat grieved that both Plangus and Erona’s death without my help had been revenged, I conveyed the bodies to Lycia, where the sumptuousness of their tombs shows their estates, and their everlasting fame their ever-living virtues.From hence I would have parted private, but remembering Plangus’s last will, I passed through Amasia, restoring his son to the Duke, and coming to Byzantium, I gave up my charge into the hands of Lisantus a Macedonian, leaving the soldiers full of hearty sorrow for the death of Plangus their general.
“Soon after, hearing of your death, and resolved to sacrifice my blood to your memory, to disengage myself of some part of my faultiness, leaving Fidutio in Thrace, lest by him I should be discovered, disguising myself in an armour, fitly, as I thought, presenting the massacre of my naked heart; passing the court of Elis and Argos, and, lastly, coming hither, I met (what should I more say?) with thee my Helen, reserved to be a blessing beyond what most I could desire.”
And so, with a sincere servency, kissing her hand, they both walked towards the palace, where, having ended supper, where Basilius and Euarchus, with the rest, expected a mask prepared for them; the Queen of Corinth let them know what she had heard of Plangus and Erona, together with Plexirtus’s deserved end, and the death of Artaxia. The audience greatly pitied their fortunes, especially Pyrocles, who much grieved to hear of Plangus’s death, for the love he bore his virtues, and was no less troubled at Plexirtus’s mischance, for his dear servant Zelmane’s sake. But the entry of the maskers caused him to put over those thoughts to more solitariness, his eye being fed with dainty variety of representations, and his ears with most harmonious well-agreeing music, to which the footing kept so good time, that doubtful it was whether the music conformed itself to the life of their motion, or the masters their motion to the music’s liveliness. But night (masked in these sports) crept on undiscovered; and though Pyrocles and Musidorus at other times would dispense with the length of the sports, yet now, in respect of the armfuls of joy they were to expect in bed, they thought them tedious; which once perceived, their dances were sooner at an end than was intended.
Thus days and nights passed over, as if they had no other sphere than delight to move in; and the appointed time for Amphialus’s marriage was at hand, to which Basilius invited the shepherds, both to change their daily pleasures, as also to show Euarchus that though a greater cause had moved him to the solitary course of life by him embraced, yet the wits of Arcadia, and the pleasantness of their harmless life, might have drawn him to that retiredness.
Kalodulusnow minded to marry his daughter, and uncertain whether he should bestow her on the contended young Arcadian Menalcas, or the much having, much wanting Thessalian Corydon, who both were then present, hearing of this summons; puts over their cause to be determined by Basilius; and Strephon and Claius, no less desirous to bring Urania’s name to court, joined themselves to the rest. Nor was Agelastus wanting, who, not for a mistress, but, Heraclitus-like, thinking man was made to mourn, and repining at the vanity of greatness, had maintained a religious sorrow. No sooner was the company set, and that their silence began to proclaim their expectation, but Strephon, who, before his coming, had prepared an Epithalamium, began thus to sing.
STREPHONSweet link of hearts, joy’s surest anchor-hold,Love’s peaceful crown, the harbour of desires,Hymen, approach, but think not Pan too bold,If to invoke thy name our love aspires.Dwell here for ever, that this couple mayRenew the blessings of their marriage-day.Firm be their root of love, and cause a bliss,From forth this royal happy stock to spring;That all the world may justly say, he isWorthy to be, and to succeed a king.But shorten not their days; for ’tis decreed,The best can be but worthy to succeed.
STREPHON
Sweet link of hearts, joy’s surest anchor-hold,
Love’s peaceful crown, the harbour of desires,
Hymen, approach, but think not Pan too bold,
If to invoke thy name our love aspires.
Dwell here for ever, that this couple may
Renew the blessings of their marriage-day.
Firm be their root of love, and cause a bliss,
From forth this royal happy stock to spring;
That all the world may justly say, he is
Worthy to be, and to succeed a king.
But shorten not their days; for ’tis decreed,
The best can be but worthy to succeed.
Amphialus thanked Strephon for his hearty wishes; but he had scarce ended, when Claius, looking upon him with as sour a countenance as their friendship could allow, thus said:
CLAIUSI pray thee, Strephon, if these glorious showsOf court’s admired greatness, do not closeThy mind from former thoughts, where can thy laysFind other subject than Urania’s praise?Or, dost thou fondly think, thou wert to blameTo breathe among these lords Urania’s name?Or, is it certain that her flames in theeAre quench’d, that lately doubled were in me?STREPHONNor so, nor thus; that verse I last day made,As with my flock I sat in Hestar’s shade:I studied it, yet all my study was,I vow, to strive to let Urania pass.For ’twas the only name my pen would write,My thoughts imagine, or my lips indite.Am I not bold when night’s vast stage is set,And all the stars and heavenly audience met,To speak my mind, while their bright twinkling flameSeems to rejoice to hear Urania’s name?And shall I fear that what the heaven’s approv’d,By men (though great men) should be disallow’d?But where you think that I have check’d mine eye,And freed your Strephon from their treachery:O no, mine is the giant Titius’s maw,That doth increase to feel a vulture’s paw.CLAIUSNo day runs over, but my love’s deep soreRenews his pain, and festers more and more:Alas! where’s pity then? belike it fliesThe place we come to, frighted with our cries.STREPHONPity! why friend, ’tis certain that their eyes,Who know they can o’ercome, learn to despise:Yet, Claius, why should we repine? our saintIs pleas’d sometime to hear our love’s complaint.And if mine eyes, to ease my inward pain,Become not flatterers, she doth not disdain.CLAIUSDisdain! that were a bliss, so great a weightMight lift our sorrows to their utmost height;And then, perhaps, our own despair would mendOur ling’ring hopes, that must or break, or bend.O no, ours is a worse calamity,A heedless care, and careless courtesy.
CLAIUS
I pray thee, Strephon, if these glorious shows
Of court’s admired greatness, do not close
Thy mind from former thoughts, where can thy lays
Find other subject than Urania’s praise?
Or, dost thou fondly think, thou wert to blame
To breathe among these lords Urania’s name?
Or, is it certain that her flames in thee
Are quench’d, that lately doubled were in me?
STREPHON
Nor so, nor thus; that verse I last day made,
As with my flock I sat in Hestar’s shade:
I studied it, yet all my study was,
I vow, to strive to let Urania pass.
For ’twas the only name my pen would write,
My thoughts imagine, or my lips indite.
Am I not bold when night’s vast stage is set,
And all the stars and heavenly audience met,
To speak my mind, while their bright twinkling flame
Seems to rejoice to hear Urania’s name?
And shall I fear that what the heaven’s approv’d,
By men (though great men) should be disallow’d?
But where you think that I have check’d mine eye,
And freed your Strephon from their treachery:
O no, mine is the giant Titius’s maw,
That doth increase to feel a vulture’s paw.
CLAIUS
No day runs over, but my love’s deep sore
Renews his pain, and festers more and more:
Alas! where’s pity then? belike it flies
The place we come to, frighted with our cries.
STREPHON
Pity! why friend, ’tis certain that their eyes,
Who know they can o’ercome, learn to despise:
Yet, Claius, why should we repine? our saint
Is pleas’d sometime to hear our love’s complaint.
And if mine eyes, to ease my inward pain,
Become not flatterers, she doth not disdain.
CLAIUS
Disdain! that were a bliss, so great a weight
Might lift our sorrows to their utmost height;
And then, perhaps, our own despair would mend
Our ling’ring hopes, that must or break, or bend.
O no, ours is a worse calamity,
A heedless care, and careless courtesy.
Then Claius pausing a while, with crossed arms and a downcast look, began again these following verses to Strephon, whom he spoke to as representing the person of sorrow.
CLAIUSFoul Sorrow, wilt thou alway build thy nestIn the wild mountains of thy care-swollen breast?STREPHONO yes, I find it happy for my breed,And near your heart, whereon I use to feed.CLAIUSBut, gentle grief, if not for pity, spareMe for Urania’s sake: she hath a shareIn these my wounds, and she must feel the smart,Whose image’s carv’d so lively in my heart.STREPHONO no, she shares no pain, from whose fair eyesThe wound did first, and now the cure must rise.CLAIUSWhy, gentle grief, thou’rt witness of my love;Then always sigh my plaints, until you move.STREPHONO no, there’s too much rigor in such laws,They bind a man to speak against his cause.Suppose I move, this is my recompense;Joy must succeed, and I am banish’d hence.CLAIUSThen must I die unpitied, no help’s found,Since you, my spokesman, do conceal my wound.STREPHONO no, let not that make us to despair:She knows we love her, but she knows she’s fair.
CLAIUS
Foul Sorrow, wilt thou alway build thy nest
In the wild mountains of thy care-swollen breast?
STREPHON
O yes, I find it happy for my breed,
And near your heart, whereon I use to feed.
CLAIUS
But, gentle grief, if not for pity, spare
Me for Urania’s sake: she hath a share
In these my wounds, and she must feel the smart,
Whose image’s carv’d so lively in my heart.
STREPHON
O no, she shares no pain, from whose fair eyes
The wound did first, and now the cure must rise.
CLAIUS
Why, gentle grief, thou’rt witness of my love;
Then always sigh my plaints, until you move.
STREPHON
O no, there’s too much rigor in such laws,
They bind a man to speak against his cause.
Suppose I move, this is my recompense;
Joy must succeed, and I am banish’d hence.
CLAIUS
Then must I die unpitied, no help’s found,
Since you, my spokesman, do conceal my wound.
STREPHON
O no, let not that make us to despair:
She knows we love her, but she knows she’s fair.
When they ended, Musidorus (in whose memory their courtesy to him, had engraven a beholdingness) forgot not to approve what they had said. But the audience had little time to determine whether they deserved what the Prince thought them worthy of, when Corydon, who longed to hear the debate between him and Menalcas, for Kalodulus’s daughter, ended, clapping him on the shoulder, thus said:
CORYDONFond beardless boy! now shall the chastisement(Fit for thy rash youth’s unweigh’d attempt)Fall heavy on thee; but you may relent,I’ll not be cruel if you do repent.O no, you will not, you’ll be always blind,That graceless smile betrays thy scornful mind.Sing then, and show these goodly dotes in thee,With which thy brainless youth can equal me.MENALCASGrey-bearded frenzy, what canst thou allege,To shun my blows, but thy age’s privilege?Thy tongue may safely snarl, while his offenceIs still protected by that reverence.The dotes, old dotard, I can bring to proveMyself deserves that choice, are only love.A priceless treasure, not to be express’d,A guest too great for thy cough-breeding breast.CORYDONYoung man, thou speak’st as if thy brains were wood;Who can determine of that inward good?I say, I love, and will Menalcas grieveThat all the world should Corydon believe?But, that’s not it, these flames will soon decay,If they be not maintain’d some other way.A thousand sheep I have, whose snow-white fleece,Do add a lustre to these parts of Greece:On whom as many lambs do wait hard by,That wear their dams white curled livery.O! what a joy will’t be to her I love;Each morn, and even, to see her sheep removeFrom field to fold, while she may freely say,That lamb is fat, that lamb I’ll eat to-day?MENALCASBlind fortune, I’ll confess, hath given you more:Yet I am richer, my content’s my store.A thousand sheep thou hast, ’tis very like,But thy diseases want Arithmetic.Nature between our years a marriage made,We bloom together, and at once may fade.But your old age is gone too far before,Time beats you on, and you’ll return no more.CORYDONHasty young man, do not despise the endTo which yourself, as to a centre, bend.What, if I want your body’s active toys,My settled mind a greater good enjoys.MENALCASOld man, thou speak’st, as if thy brains were wood;Who can determine of that inward good?Think’st thou, will that sweet beauty take delightTo hear thee cough a proverb in the night?O no, there are some other joys in bed,She must partake whom you desire to wed.
CORYDON
Fond beardless boy! now shall the chastisement
(Fit for thy rash youth’s unweigh’d attempt)
Fall heavy on thee; but you may relent,
I’ll not be cruel if you do repent.
O no, you will not, you’ll be always blind,
That graceless smile betrays thy scornful mind.
Sing then, and show these goodly dotes in thee,
With which thy brainless youth can equal me.
MENALCAS
Grey-bearded frenzy, what canst thou allege,
To shun my blows, but thy age’s privilege?
Thy tongue may safely snarl, while his offence
Is still protected by that reverence.
The dotes, old dotard, I can bring to prove
Myself deserves that choice, are only love.
A priceless treasure, not to be express’d,
A guest too great for thy cough-breeding breast.
CORYDON
Young man, thou speak’st as if thy brains were wood;
Who can determine of that inward good?
I say, I love, and will Menalcas grieve
That all the world should Corydon believe?
But, that’s not it, these flames will soon decay,
If they be not maintain’d some other way.
A thousand sheep I have, whose snow-white fleece,
Do add a lustre to these parts of Greece:
On whom as many lambs do wait hard by,
That wear their dams white curled livery.
O! what a joy will’t be to her I love;
Each morn, and even, to see her sheep remove
From field to fold, while she may freely say,
That lamb is fat, that lamb I’ll eat to-day?
MENALCAS
Blind fortune, I’ll confess, hath given you more:
Yet I am richer, my content’s my store.
A thousand sheep thou hast, ’tis very like,
But thy diseases want Arithmetic.
Nature between our years a marriage made,
We bloom together, and at once may fade.
But your old age is gone too far before,
Time beats you on, and you’ll return no more.
CORYDON
Hasty young man, do not despise the end
To which yourself, as to a centre, bend.
What, if I want your body’s active toys,
My settled mind a greater good enjoys.
MENALCAS
Old man, thou speak’st, as if thy brains were wood;
Who can determine of that inward good?
Think’st thou, will that sweet beauty take delight
To hear thee cough a proverb in the night?
O no, there are some other joys in bed,
She must partake whom you desire to wed.
Corydon, inwardly out of countenance to hear his own words bite so sore upon him, would have shrunk away, but hoping he had found a judge whom the cause concerned stood a while to attend what Basilius would have said. But the King put it over to Musidorus, who (glad to find an occasion to pleasure Menalcas, his first master in the practice of a shepherd’s life) thus ended it.
“Corydon,” said he, “could I as well lop away some of your over-grown years, to make your match with Kalodulus’s daughter equal, as I can add to Menalcas’s state, I would, for a time, suspend my judgment: for readily I know not whether of you two deserves best: but in the one, my power seconds my will; as in the other, my will over-goes my power. Kalodulus’s daughter I therefore adjudge to Menalcas, and I will make him worthy of her, the rather, that I know his rash youth would impatiently bear a repulse, where your experience (when it reflects upon itself), with more discretion may consider she was but a woman.” Glad was Menalcas to speed so well: nor was Corydon displeased, because the Prince, as he conceived, had entertained a good opinion of his wisdom. Thus, when they ended, Pyrocles, who marked Agelastus’s silent pensiveness, desired to hear him disburden his mind of the thoughts that brought him to so deep a study: thinking that Agelastus stood fixed, with the eye of his mind cast upon the beauty of some fair mistress: but he, who thought of nothing less, thus answered his expectation.
AGELASTUSNor fate, nor fortune, whose enforcing power,Man still complains upon his state to lower,Do work these changes: man himself’s the cause;They be but wheels that keep their mover’s laws:Yet alway, when he sees his fault too late,He turns it over upon chance, or fate.Each man is born a king, his passions beThe practice of his sovereignty:Who, though they still their sovereign’s good pretend,Conspire his ruin for their private end.The love of skin-thick beauty draws his eyeTo yield to love, his reason’s majesty.His fear throws bugbears in his way; his stateIs still infested by revengeful hate.His idle grief, for what he might prevent,Or might not, doth usurp his government.Thus he, whom God ordain’d a king to be,Obeys his subjects, and is never free.Besides, whose state’s so firm, into whose wayThe world flings not his joy’s injurious stay?The surges of the deep, whose joys devourThe merchant’s far-fetch’d hopes, the skies that pourA second deluge on the ploughman’s corn,When now his fields are ready to be shorn:The soldiers long remote, the doubtful chanceOf bloody war, the new-found ordinance;The city-horns, the court’s brave flattery,Do force content to dwell with poverty.
AGELASTUS
Nor fate, nor fortune, whose enforcing power,
Man still complains upon his state to lower,
Do work these changes: man himself’s the cause;
They be but wheels that keep their mover’s laws:
Yet alway, when he sees his fault too late,
He turns it over upon chance, or fate.
Each man is born a king, his passions be
The practice of his sovereignty:
Who, though they still their sovereign’s good pretend,
Conspire his ruin for their private end.
The love of skin-thick beauty draws his eye
To yield to love, his reason’s majesty.
His fear throws bugbears in his way; his state
Is still infested by revengeful hate.
His idle grief, for what he might prevent,
Or might not, doth usurp his government.
Thus he, whom God ordain’d a king to be,
Obeys his subjects, and is never free.
Besides, whose state’s so firm, into whose way
The world flings not his joy’s injurious stay?
The surges of the deep, whose joys devour
The merchant’s far-fetch’d hopes, the skies that pour
A second deluge on the ploughman’s corn,
When now his fields are ready to be shorn:
The soldiers long remote, the doubtful chance
Of bloody war, the new-found ordinance;
The city-horns, the court’s brave flattery,
Do force content to dwell with poverty.
Then looking round upon the princes, as if by their survey he were again enabled to speak, he thus said:
Honour, thou spongy idol of man’s mind,That soak’st content away, thou hast confin’d.Ambitious man, and not his destiny,Within the bounds of form and ceremony.Oh! happy life of shepherds, whose contentRests in a soul that’s free and innocent;They stay their lodging, and remove their roof,Not for their own, but for their flock’s behoof.While some (to fill the blanks of their mean story)Do travel in their cares, to gain vain-glory,They never leave the plains, unless, sometime,To look about them, they the mountains climb:But dwell not there; for ev’n this change doth showWhat choicer sweets they do enjoy below:Here the rough winds do buzz about their ears,The rocky steepness adds unto their fears:Here they are ready to be torn asunder,By malice’s hateful blasts, and envy’s thunder:From hence they may descend; but, greatness, stay,If you come down, it must be th’ other way:For ’tis a bliss, on which your honour shares,That though you would, you cannot leave your cares.
Honour, thou spongy idol of man’s mind,
That soak’st content away, thou hast confin’d.
Ambitious man, and not his destiny,
Within the bounds of form and ceremony.
Oh! happy life of shepherds, whose content
Rests in a soul that’s free and innocent;
They stay their lodging, and remove their roof,
Not for their own, but for their flock’s behoof.
While some (to fill the blanks of their mean story)
Do travel in their cares, to gain vain-glory,
They never leave the plains, unless, sometime,
To look about them, they the mountains climb:
But dwell not there; for ev’n this change doth show
What choicer sweets they do enjoy below:
Here the rough winds do buzz about their ears,
The rocky steepness adds unto their fears:
Here they are ready to be torn asunder,
By malice’s hateful blasts, and envy’s thunder:
From hence they may descend; but, greatness, stay,
If you come down, it must be th’ other way:
For ’tis a bliss, on which your honour shares,
That though you would, you cannot leave your cares.
When Agelastus ended, the company might see a man who seemed to be misfortune’s herald, with a rope about his neck, make towards the Queen of Corinth, and cast himself at her feet. They, thinking it had been some shepherdish invention, expected awhile the conceit of it: but approaching, after a time, nearer to him, they might discern it was Tenarus the usurper of Corinth,who, hearing of the Queen’s welfare, and her happy marriage to Amphialus (finding in his own practice for the crown the Corinthians aptness to embrace change, and considering the powerfulness of his enemies) had come thither, in the basest form of humbleness to set a belief upon his submission. Him the Queen (because he was a suitor on her marriage-day) pardoned, and restored to his possessions, forfeited by his treason to the crown; only she caused his liberty to be restrained until her going to Corinth, whither, after she had taken leave of Basilius, and the rest of the royal company, she took her journey; making Amphialus, within a year after her departure, a happy father of a much-promising son, whom they named Heleamphialus. Euarchus also, soon after, with his son Pyrocles and Philoclea, and his nephew Musidorus, together with Pamela (who was desirous both to accompany her sister, and to see her mother of Thessaly) parted from Mantinea; leaving Basilius and Gynecia, when they had accompanied them to the frontiers of Arcadia, to the happy quiet of their after-life.
Tu longe sequere & vestigia semper adoro,Sidnei——Statius.
Tu longe sequere & vestigia semper adoro,
Sidnei——
Statius.
FINIS.
[1]The French prose says simply that King Arthur was at Carlisle: the poem takes twenty verses to tell how “When Titan with his lusty heat had made his court for twenty days in Aries, and all with divers hues had apparelled the fields and branches … in this time the worthy conqueror, Arthur, who had the flower of all the chivalry of this world pertaining to his crown, so passing were his knightes in renown, was at Carlisle, etc.” Then the prose records that the king went one morning early into the woods to hunt. This the verse expands into ten lines describing the hunt. In another place the French says, “Et quant il fut entre en la bataille il fist sonner ses busines tant que tout en retentissoit.” This the Scots turns into,
“Up goith the trumpetis, and the claryownis,Hornys, bugillis blawing furth thar sownis,That al the cuntre resownit hath about;Than Arthuris folk var in dispar and dout,That hard the noys, and saw the multitud,Of fresch folk; thai cam as thai war wod.”
“Up goith the trumpetis, and the claryownis,
Hornys, bugillis blawing furth thar sownis,
That al the cuntre resownit hath about;
Than Arthuris folk var in dispar and dout,
That hard the noys, and saw the multitud,
Of fresch folk; thai cam as thai war wod.”
The Black Knight says, “Seigneurs, vous estes tous amys du roy. Or y perra comment vous le ferez.” This is the sole foundation for thirty-one lines in the Scots poem, including a response from his followers that is not in the prose. The Scot uses his material freely, translating faithfully when a mere pedestrian course was sufficient, letting himself go when his imagination was aroused. He is more vivid and circumstantial in narrative, fuller and more sensuous in description. Take the following; French, “Et fut a leur venue le chevalier noir mis a terre; Et aussi les six compaignons qui toute jour avoyent este pres de luy;” Scots,
“The blak knycht is born on to the ground,His horse hyme fallith, that fellith dethis wound.The vi falowis, that falowith hyme al day,Sich was the press, that to the erth go thay.”
“The blak knycht is born on to the ground,
His horse hyme fallith, that fellith dethis wound.
The vi falowis, that falowith hyme al day,
Sich was the press, that to the erth go thay.”
A good deal of this expansion is obviously occasioned by the demands of metre and rhyme.
[2]Mr H. R. Plomer, in an interesting paper contributed to theLibrary, vol. i. (New Series), pp. 195-205, shows that this was a pirated edition; and perhaps the same is the case with the Dublin edition of 1739, mentioned below.
[3]See Wood’s “Athen. Oxon.,” fol. p. 226.
[4]See his “Life,” written by Sir Fulke Greville, Kt. Lord Brook. Printed Ann. 1652, 8vo, p. 5.
[5]Wood,ut supra.
[6]See his “Life,”ut supra, p. 8.
[7]See Wood, p. 227.
[8]Annal. Camdeni, sub. Ann.1581.
[9]Ibid. Ann.1582.
[10]Published 1590 (Ibid.i. 324).
[11]First printed, 1591.
[12]First printed, 1595.
[13]See Wood,ut supra.
[14]See his “Life,”ut supra, p. 142et seq.
[15]Sir Robert Dudley, Earl of Leicester.
[16]See his “Life,”ut supra, p. 165.
[17]Camd. Brit. in Kent.
[18]See Wood,ut supra.
[19]See his “Life,” prefixed to the last edition folio.
[20]Viz. 16th October 1586.
[21]The title of the Oxford verses published upon the death of our author.
[22]We cannot fix the date, nor on what occasion this great appearance of nobility was then at Oxford, only that the Earl of Leicester was high chancellor of that University.
[23]In opposition to Philip of Spain.
[1]running at Base] The old game of prisoner’s-base, then a common rustic pastime.
[2]recklessness]i.e.Carelessness. See Spencer.
[3]ruefully] Woefully.
[4]Tarantula] A venomous Spider (so called from Tarento a city of Naples) whose bite is of such a nature, that it is to be cured only by music.
[5]Quintain] A rural sport, chiefly used at marriages, wherein, running a tilt on horse-back with poles, at a large stake fixed in the ground, against which, he that breaks most poles, gains the prize.
[6]Barley-break] Running-matches made by the country girls, with each other, as hereafter described.
[1]gols] Hands.
[1]sowed]i.e.Scattered.
[2]sow]i.e.Spread.
[3]Keep]i.e.A strong tower in the middle of a castle, the last resort of the besieged.
[4]vampalt]i.e.A gauntlet, or iron glove.
[5]Atropos] One of the three sisters which are said to cut the thread of life.
[6]Catoblepa] The Catoblepa is a beast bred near the rise of Nile. SeePin, Nat. Hist.
[7]paven]i.e.A dance.
[8]A chasm being occasioned in this place, by the loss of some of the Author’s invaluable papers; it was excellently supplied, as follows, by Sir W. A.
[9]From hence the history is again continued out of the author’s Papers. If this little essay have not that perfection which is required for supplying the want of that place for which it was intended, yet shall it serve for a shadow to give a lustre to the rest. I have only herein conformed myself to that which preceded my beginning, and was known to be that admirable author’s own, but to differ in some things from that which follows, especially in the death of Philisides, making choice of a course, whereby I might best manifest, what affection I bear to the memory of him, whom I took to be alluded unto by that name, and whom I only by this imperfect parcel (designing more) had a mind to honour.W. A.
[10]The superscripted numbers in this song appearabovethe preceding word in the source text.—Transcriber.