THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA, WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIPPE SIDNEI.  
LONDON Printed by john Windet for william Ponsonbie. Anno Domini, 1590.   

TO MY DEAR LADY AND SISTER, THE CONUNTESSE OF PEMBROKE.  
HEre now have you (most dear, and most worthy to be most dear Lady) this idle work of my: which I fear (like the Spider's web) will be thought fit to be swept away, then worn to any other purpose. For my part, in very truth (as the cruel fathers among the Greeks', were wont to do to the babes they would not foster) I could well found in my heart, to cast out in some desert of forgetfulness this child, which I am loathe to father. But you desired me to do it, and your desire, to my heart is an absolute commandment. Now, it is done only for you, only to you: if you keep it to yourself, or to such friends, who will weigh errors in the balance of good will, I hope, for the father's sake, it will be pardoned, perchance made much of, though in itself it have deformities. For indeed, for severer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflinglie handled. Your dear self can best witness the manner, being done in lose sheets of paper, most of it in your presence, the rest, by sheets, sent unto you, as fast as they were done. In sum, a young head, not so well stayed as I would it were, (and shall be when God will) having many many fancies begotten in it, if it had not been in some way delivered, would have grown a monster, & more sorry might I be that they come in, then that they got out. But his chief safety, shallbe the not walking abroad; & his chief protection, the bearing the livery of your name; which (if much much goodwill do not deceive me) is worthy to be a sanctuary for a greater offender. This say I, because I know the virtue so; and this say I, because it may be ever so; or to say better, because it will be ever so. Read it then at your idle times, and the follies your good judgement will find in it, blame not, but laugh at. And so, looking for no better stuff, then, as in an Haberdasher's shop, glasses, or feathers, you will continued to love the writer, who doth exceedingly love you; and most most heartily prays you may long live, to be a principal ornament to the family of the Sidneiss.  
Your loving Brother Philip Sidnei.   

THe division and summing of the Chapters was not of Sir Philip Sydney's doing, but adventured by the overseer of the print, for the more ease of the Readers. He therefore submits himself to their judgement, and if his labour answer not the worthiness of the book, desireth pardon for it. As also if any defecct be found in the Eclogues, which although they were of Sir Philip Sydney's writing, yet were they not perused by him, but left till the work had been finished, that then choice should have been made, which should have been taken, and in what manner brought in. At this time they have been chosen and disposed as the overseer thought best.   

THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA, WRITTEN BY SIR PHILIP SIDNEI. THE FIRST BOOK.  

CHAP. 1.  
¹ The sheperdish complaints of the absented lovers Strephon and Claius. ² The second shipwreck of Pyrocles and Musidorus. ³ Their strange saving, ⁴ interview, and parting.  
IT was in the time argument key no. 1 that the earth gins to put on her new apparel against the approach of her lover, and that the Sun running a most evencourse becums an indifferent arbiter between the night and the day; when the hopeless shepherd Strephon was come to the sands, which lie against the Island of Cythera; where viewing the place with a heavy kind of delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the Ileward, he called his friendly rival, the pastor Claius unto him, and fetting first down in his darkened countenance a doleful copy of what he would speak: OH my Claius, said he, hither we are now come to pay the rent, for which we are so called unto by overbusy Remembrance, Remembrance, restless Remembrance, which claims not only this duty of us, but for it will have us forget ourselves. I pray you when we were amid our flock, and that of other shepherds some were running after their sheep strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble upon the short and sweet grass, some medicining their sick ewes, some setting a bell for an enfigne of a sheepish squadron, some with more leisure inventing new games of exercising their bodies & sporting their wits: did Remembrance grant us any holiday, either for pastime or devotion, nay either for necessary food or natural rest? but that still it forced our thoughts to work upon this place, where we last (alas that the word last should so long last) did gaze our eyes upon her ever flourishing beauty: did it not still cry within us? Ah you base minded wretches, are your thoughts so deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as for respect of gain some paltry wool may yield you, to let so much time pass without knowing perfectly her estate, especially in so troublesome a season? to leave that shore unsaluted, from whence you may see to the Island where she dwelleth? to leave those steps unkissed wherein Urania printed the farewell of all beauty? Well then, Remembrance commanded, we obeyed, and here we find, that as our remembrance come ever clothed unto us in the form of this place, so this place gives new heat to the fever of our languishing remembrance. Yonder my Claius, Urania lighted, the very horse (me thought) bewailed to be so disburdened: and as for thee, poor Claius, when thou went'st to help her down, I seen reverence and desire so divide thee, that thou didst at one instant both blush and quake, and in stead of bearing her, wert ready to fall down thyself. There she sat, vouchsafing my cloak (then most gorgeous) under her: at yonder rising of the ground she turned herself, looking back toward her wonted abode, and because of her parting bearing much sorrow in her eyes, the lightsomeness whereof had yet so natural a cheerfulness, as it made even sorrow seem to smile; at that turning she spoke unto us all, opening the cherry of her lips, & Lord how greedily my ears did feed upon the sweet words she uttered? And here she laid her hand over thy eyes, when she seen the tears springing in them, as if she would conceal them from other, and yet herself feel some of thy sorrow: But woe is me, yonder, yonder, did she put her foot into the boat, at that instant as it were dividing her heavenly beauty, between the Earth and the Sea. But when she was embarked, did you not mark how the winds whistled, & the seas danced for joy, how the fails did swell with pride, and all because they had Urania? OH Urania, blessed be thou Urania, the sweetest fairness and fairest sweetness: with that word his voice broke so with sobbing, that he could say no further; and Claius thus answered. Alas my Strephon (said he) what needs this score to reckon up only our losses? What doubt is there, but that the light of this place doth call our thoughts to appear at the court of affection, held by that racking steward, Remembrance? Aswell may sheep forget to fear when they spy wolves, as we can miss such fancies, when we see any place made happy by her treading. Who can choose that seen her but think where she stayed, where she walked, where she turned, where she spoke? But what is all this? truly no more, but as this place served us to think of those things, so those things serve as places to call to memory more excellent matters. Not, not, let us think with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with love, and love with joy in the midst of all woes: let us in such sort think, I say, that our poor eyes were so enriched as to behold, and our low hearts so exalted as to love, a maid, who is such, that as the greatest thing the world can show, is her beauty, so the lest thing that may be praised in her, is her beauty. Certainly as her eyelids are more pleasant to behold, than two white kids climbing up a fair tree, and browsing on his tenderest brauches, and yet are nothing, compared to the day-shining stars contained in them; and as her breath is more sweet than a gentle south-west wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields and shadowed waters in the extreme heat of summer, and yet is nothing, compared to the honey flowing speech that breath doth carry: no more all that our eyes can see of her (though when they have seen her, what else they shall ever see is but dry stubble after clovers' grass) is to be matched with the flock of unspeakable virtues laid up delightfully in that best builded fold. But in deed as we can better consider the suns beauty, by marking how he guilds these waters, and mountains them by looking upon his own face, too glorious for our weak eyes: so it may be our conceits (not able to bear her sun-stayning excellency) will better way it by her works upon some meaner subject employed. And alas, who can better witness that then we, whose experience is grounded upon feeling? hath not the only love of her made us (being silly ignorant shepherds) raise up our thoughts above the ordinary level of the world, so as great clerk do not disdain our conference? hath not the desire to seem worthy in her eyes made us when others were sleeping, to sit viewing the course of heavens? when others were running at base, to run over learned write? when other mark their sheep, we to mark ourselves? hath not she thrown reason upon our desires, and, as it were given eyes unto Cupid? hath in any, but in her, love-fellowship maintained friendship between rivals, and beauty taught the beholders chastity? He was going on with his praises, but Strephon bade him stay, & look: & so they both perceived a thing which floated drawing nearer and nearer to the bank; but rather by the favourable working of the Sea, then by any self industry. They doubted a while what it should be; till it was cast up even hard before them: at which time they fully seen that it was a man: Whereupon running for pity sake unto him, they found his hands (as it should appear, constanter friends to his life then his memory) fast gripping upon the edge of a square small coffer, which lay all under his breast: else in himself no show of life, so as the board seemed to be but a beer to carry him a land to his Sepulchre. So drew they up a young man of so goodly shape, and well pleasing favour, that one would think death had in him a lovely countenance; and, that though he were naked, nakedness was to him an apparel. That sight increased their compassion, and their compassion called up their care; so that lifting his feet above his head, making a great deal of salt water to come out of his mouth, they laid him upon some of their garments, and fell to rub and chase him, till they brought him to recover both breath the servant, & warmth the companion of living. At length, opening his eyes, he gave a great groan, (a doleful note but a pleasant ditty) for by that, they found not only life, but strength of life in him. They therefore continued on their charitable office, until (his spirits being well returned,) he (without so much as thanking them for their pains) gate up, and looking round about to the uttermost limits of his sight, and crying upon the name of Pyrocles, nor seeing nor hearing cause of comfort: what (said he) and shall Musidorus live after Pyrocles? argument key no. 2 therewithal he offered wilfully to cast destruction & himself again into the sea: a strange sight to the shepherds; to whom it seemed, that before being in appearance dead had yet saved his life, and now coming to his life, should be a cause to procure his death; but they ran unto him, and pulling him back, (than too feeble for them) by force stickled that unnatural fray. I pray you (said he) honest men, what such right have you in me, as not to suffer me to do with myself what I list? and what policy have you to bestow a benefit where it is counted an injury? They hearing him speak in Greek (which was their natural language) become the more tender hearted towards him; and considering by his calling and looking, that the loss ofsome dear friend was great cause of his sorrow; told him they were poor men that were bound by course of humanity to prevent so great a mischief; and that they wished him, if opinion of some bodies perishing bred such desperate anguish in him, that he should be comforted by his own proof, who had lately escaped as apparent danger as any might be. Not, not (said he) it is not for me to attended so high a blissfulness: but since you take care of me, I pray you find means that some Bark may be provided, that will go out of the haven, that if it be possible we may find the body far far too precious a food for fishes: and for the hire (said he) I have within this casket, of value sufficient to content them. Claius presently went to a Fisherman, & having agreed with him, and provided some apparel for the naked stranger, he embarked, and the Shepherds with him: and were no sooner go beyond the mouth of the haven, but that some way into the sea they might discern (as it were) a stain of the waters colour, and by times some sparks and smoke mounting thereout. But the young man no sooner seen it, but that beating his breast, he cried, that there was the beginning of his ruin, entreating them to bend their course as near unto it as they could: telling, how that smoke was but a small relic of a great fire, which had driven both him & his friend rather to committee themselves to the cold mercy of the sea, then to abide the hot cruelty of the fire: and that therefore, though they both had abandoned the ship, that he was (if any where) in that course to be met withal. They steered therefore as near thetherward as they could: but when they come so near as their eyes were full masters of the object, they seen a sight full of piteous strangeness: a ship, or rather the carcase of the ship, or rather some few bones of the carcase, hulling there, part broken, part burned, part drowned: death having used more than one dart to that destruction. About it floated great store of very rich things, and many chests which might promise' no less. And amid the precious things were a number of dead bodies, which likewise did not only testify both elements violence, but that the chief violence was grown of human inhumanity: for their bodies were full of grisly wounds, & their blood had (as it were) filled the wrinekles of the seas visage: which it seemed the sea would not wash away, that it might witness it is not always his fault, when we condemn his cruelty: in sum, a defeat, where the conquered kept both field and spoil: a shipwreck without storm or ill footing: and a waist of fire in the midst of water.  
argument key no. 3 But a little way off they seen the mast, whose proud height now lay along; like a widow having lost her make of whom she held her honour: but upon the mast they seen a young man (at lest if he were a man) bearing show of about 18. years of age, who fate (as on horseback) having nothing upon him but his shirt, which being wrought with blue silk & gold; had a kind of resemblance to the sea: on which the sun (then near his Western home) did shoot some of his beams. His hair (which the young men of Greece used to wear very long) was stirred up & down with the wind, which seemed to have a sport to play with it, as the sea had to kiss his feet; himself full of admirable beauty, set forth by the strangeness both of his seat & gesture: for, holding his head up full of unmoved majesty, he held a sword aloft with his fair arm, which often he waved about his crown as though he would threaten the world in that extremity. But the fishermen, when they come so near him, that it was time to throw out a rope, by which hold they might draw him, their simplicity bred such amazement, & their amazement such a superstition, that (assuredly thinking it was some God begotten between Neptune and Venus, that had made all this terrible slaughter) as they went under sail by him, held up their hands, and made their prayers. Which when Musidorus saw, though he were almost as much ravished with joy, as they with astonishment, he leapt to the Mariner, and took the rope out of his hand and (saying, dost thou live, and art well? who answered, thou canst tell best, since most of my well being stands in thee,) threw it out, but already the ship was past beyond Pyrocles: and therefore Musidorus could do no more but persuade the Mariners to cast about again, assuring them that he was but a man, although of most divine excellencies, and promising great rewards for their pain.  
And now they were already come upon the stays; argument key no. 4 when one of the sailors descried a Galley which come with sails and oars directly in the chase of them; and strength perceived it was a well known Pirate, who hunted not only for goods but for bodies of men, which he employed either to be his Galley slaves, or to cell at the best market. Which when the Master understood, he commanded forthwith to set on all the canvas they could, and fly homeward, leaving in that sort poor Pyrocles so near to be rescued. But what did not Musidorus say? what did he not offer to persuade them to venture the fight? But fear standing at the gates of their ears, put back all persuasions: so that he had nothing to accompany Pyrocles, but his eyes; nor to secure him, but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look that way he seen the Galley leave the pursuit of them, & turn to take up the spoils of the other wrack: and lastly he might well see them list up the young man; and alas (said he to himself) dear Pyrocles shall that body of thine be enchained? shall those victorious hands of thine be commanded to base offices? shall virtue become a slave to those that be slaves to viciousness? Alas, better had it been thou hadst ended nobly thy noble days: what death is so evil as unworthy servitude? But that opinion soon ceased when he seen the galley setting upon an other ship, which held long and strong fight with her: for than he began a fresh to fear the life of his friend, and to wish well to the Pirates whom before he hated, lest in their ruin he might perish. But the fishermen made such speed into the haven, that they absented his eyes from beholding the issue: where being entered, he could procure neither them nor any other as then to put themselves into the sea: so that being as full of sorrow for being unable to do anything, as void of counsel how to do anything, beside, that sickness grew something upon him, the honest shepherds Strephon and Claius (who being themselves true friends, did the more perfectly judge the justness of his sorrow) advise him, that he should mitigate somewhat of his woe, since he had gotten an amendment in fortune, being come from assured persuasion of his death, to have no cause to despair of his life: as one that had lamented the death of his sheep, should after know they were but strayed, would receive pleasure though readily he knew not where to find them.   

CHAP. 2.  
¹ The pastors comforts to the wracked Musidorus. ² His passage into Arcadia. The descriptions of ³ Laconia, ⁴ Arcadia, Kalander's ⁵ person, ⁶ house, and ⁷ entertainment to Musidorus, now called Palladius. His ⁸ sickness, recovery, ⁹ and perfections.  
NOw sir (said they) thus for ourselves it is. We are in profession argument key no. 1 but shepherds, and in this country of Laconia little better than strangers, and therefore neither in skill, nor ability of power greatly to stead you. But what we can present unto you is this: Arcadia, of which country we are, is but a little way hence, and even upon the next confines.  
There dwelleth a Gentleman, by name Kalander, argument key no. 5 who vouchsafeth much favour unto us: A man who for his hospitality is so much haunted, that no news stir, but comes to his ears; for his upright dealing so beloved of his neighbours, that he hath many ever ready to do him their uttermost service, and by the great good will our Prince bears him, may soon obtain the use of his name and credit, which hath a principal sway, not only in his own Arcadia but in all these countries of Peloponnesus: and (which is worth all) all these things give him not so much power, as his nature gives him will to benefit: so that it seems no Music is so sweet to his ear as deserved thanks. To him we will bring you, & there you may recover again your health, without which you cannot be able to make any diligent search for your friend: and therefore but in that respect, you must labour for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort of courtesy, & ease of wise counsel shall not be wanting.  
argument key no. 2 Musidorus (who beside he was merely unacquainted in the country had his wits astonished with sorrow) gave easy consent to that, from which he seen no reason to disagree: & therefore (defraying the Mariners with a ring bestowed upon them) they took their journey together through Laconia; Clavis & Strephon by course carrying his chest for him, Musidorus only bearing in his countenance evident marks of a sorowfulmind supported with a weak body, which they perceiving, & knowing that the violence of sorrow is not at the first to be striven withal: (being like a mighty beast, sooner tamed with following, than overthrown by withstanding) they gave way unto it for that day & the next; never troubling him, either with ask questions, or finding fault with his melancholy, but rather fitting to his dolour dolorous discourses of their own & other folk's misfortunes. Which speeches, though they had not a lively entrance to his senses shut up in sorrow, yet like one half asleep, he took hold of much of the matters spoken unto him, so as a man may say, ere sorrow was ware, they made his thoughts bear away something else beside his own sorrow, which wrought so in him, that at length he grew content to mark their speeches, then to marvel at such wit in shepherds, after to like their company, & lastly to vouchsafe conference: so that the 3 day after, in the time that the morning did strew roses & violets in the heavenly floor against the coming of the Sun, the nightingales (striving one with the other which could in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorrow) made them put of their sleep, & rising from under a tree (which that night had been their pavilion) they went on their journey, which by & by welcomed Musidorus eyes (wearied with the wasted soil of Laconia) with delightful prospects. There were hills argument key no. 4 which garnished their proud heights with stately treens: humble valleys, whose base estate seemed comforted with refreshing of silver rivers: meadows, enameled with all sorts of ey-pleasing flowers: thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to by the cheerful deposition of many wel-tuned birds: each pasture stored with sheep feeding with soberf security, while the pretty lambs with bleting oratory craved the dams comfort: here a shepherds boy piping, as though he should never be old: there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing, & it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, & her hands kept time to her voices music. As for the houses of the country (for many houses come under their eye) they were all scattered, not two being one by th' other, & yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succour: a show, as it were, of an accompanable solitariness, & of a civil wildness. I pray you (said Musidorus, than first unsealing his long silent lips) what countries be these we pass through, which are so divers in show, the one wanting no store, th'other having no store but of want.  
The country (answered Claius) where you were cast a argument key no. 3 shore, & now are past through, is Laconia, not so poor by the barrenness of the soil (though in itself not passing fertile) as by a civil war, which being these two years within the bowels of that estate, between the gentlemen & the peasants (by them named Helots) hath in this sort as it were disfigured the face of nature, and made it so unhospital as now you have found it: the towns neither of the one side nor the other, willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entering for fear of being mistaken.  
argument key no. 4 But this country (where now you set your foot) is Arcadia: and even hard by is the house of Kalander whither we led you: this country being thus decked with peace, and (the child of peace) good husbandry. These houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the commodity of their sheep: and therefore in the division of the Arcadian estate are termed shepherds; a happy people, wanting little, because they desire not much. What cause then, said Musidorus, made you venture to leave this sweet life, and put yourself in yonder unpleasant and dangerous realm? Guarded with poverty (answered Strephon) & guided with love: But now (said Claius) since it hath pleased you to ask any thing of us whose baseness is such as the very knowledge is darkness: give us leave to know something of you, & of the young man you so much lament, that at lest we may be the better instructed to inform Kalander, and he the better know how to proportion his entertainment. Musidorus (according to the agreement between Pyrocles and him to altar their names) answered, that he called himself Palladius, and his friend Daiphantus; but till I have him again (said he) I am in deed nothing: and therefore my story is of nothing, his entertainment (since so good a man he is) cannot be so low as I accounted my estate: and in sum, the sum of all his courtesy may be to help me by some means to seek my friend.  
They perceived he was not willing to open himself further, and therefore without further questioning argument key no. 6 brought him to the house: about which they might see (with fit consideration both of the air, the prospect, and the nature of the ground) all such necessaire additions to a great house, as might well show, Kalander knew that provision is the foundation of hospitality, and thirst the fuel of magnificence. The house itself was built of fair and strong stone, not affecting so much any extraordinary kind of fineness, as an honourable representing of a firm stateliness. The lights, doors and stairs, rather directed to the use of the guest, then to the eye of the Artificer: and yet as the one chiefly heeded, so the other not neglected; each place handsome without curiosity, and homely without loathsomeness: not so dainty as not to be trodden on, nor yet slubbered up with good fellowship: all more lasting than beautiful, but that the consideration of the exceeding lastingneffe made the eye believe it was exceeding beautiful. The servants not so many in number, as cleanly in apparel, and feruiceable in behaviour, testifying even in their countenances, that their master took aswell care to be served, as of them that did serve. One of them was forthwith ready to welcome the shepherds; as men, who though they were poor, their master greatly favoured: and understanding by them; that the young man with them was to be much accounted of, for that they had seen tokens of more than common greatness, how so evernow eclipsed with fortune: He ran to his master, who come presently forth, and pleasantly welcoming the shepherds, but especially applying him to Musidorus, Strephon privately told him all what he knew of him, and particularly that he found this stranger was loathe to be known.  
Not said Kalander (speaking aloud) I am no herald argument key no. 7 to inquire of men's pedigrees, it sufficeth me if I know their virtues: which (if this young man's face be not a false witness) do better apparel his mind, than you have done his body. While he was speaking, there come a boy in show like a Merchant's apprentice, who taking Strephon by the sleeve, delivered him a letter, written jointly both to him and Claius from Urania: which they no sooner had read, but that with short leavetaking of Kalander (who quickly guest and smiled at the matter) and once again (though hastily) recommending the young man unto him, they went away, leaving Musidorus even loath to part with them, for the good conversation he had of them, & obligation he accounted himself tied in unto them: and therefore, they delivering his chest unto him, he opened it, and would have presented them with two very rich jewels, but they absolutely refused them, telling him they were more then enough rewarded in the knowing of him, and without herkening unto a reply (like men whose hearts disdained all desires but one) gate speedily away, as if the letter had brought wings to make them fly. But by that fight Kalander soon judged that his guest was of no mean calling; and therefore the more respectfullie entertaining him, Musidorus found his sickness (which the fight, the sea, and late travel had laid upon him) grow greatly: so that fearing some sudden accident, he delivered the chest to Kalander; which was full of most precious stones, gorgeously & cunningly set in diverse manners, desiring him he would keep those trifles, and if he died, he would bestow so much of it as was needful, to find out and redeem a young man, naming himself Daiphantus, as then in the hands of Laconia pirates.  
But Kalander seeing him saint more and more, with argument key no. 8 careful speed conveyed him to the most commodious lodging in his house: where being possessed with an extreme burning fever, he continued some while with no great hope of life: but youth at length got the victory of sickness, so that in six weeks the excellency of his returned beauty was a credible ambassador of his health; to the great joy of Kalander: who, as in this time he had by certain friends of his that dwelled near the Sea in Messenia, set forth a ship and a galley to seek and secure Daiphantus: so at home did he omit nothing which he thought might either profit or gratify Palladius.  
For having found in him (besides his bodily gifts argument key no. 9 beyond the degree of Admiration) by daily discourses which he delighted himself to have with him, a mind of most excellent composition (a piercing wit quite void of ostentation, high erected thoughts seated in a heart of courtesy, an eloquence as sweet in the uttering, as slow to come to the uttering, a behaviour so noble, as gave a majesty to adversity: and all in a man whose age could not be above one & twenty years.) The good old man was even enamoured with a fatherly love towards him; or rather become his servant by the bonds such virtue laid upon him; once he acknowledged himself so to be, by the badge of diligent attendance.   

CHAP. 3.  
The ¹ pictures of Kalander's dainty garden-house. His narration of the ² Arcadian estate, ³ the King, ⁴ the Queen, ⁵ their two daughters, and ⁶ their guardians, with their qualities, which is the ground of all this story.  
But Palladius having gotten his health, and only staying there to be in place, where he might hear answer of the ships set forth, Kalander one afternoon led him abroad to a welarayed ground he had behind his house, which he thought to show him before his going, as the place himself more then in any other delighted: the backside of the house was neither field, garden, nor orchard; or rather it was both field, garden, and orchard: for as soon as the descending of the stairs had delivered them down, they come into a place cunningly set with trees of the most tastpleasing fruits: but scatcelie they had taken that into their consideration, but that they were suddenly stepped into a delicate green, of each side of the green a thicket bend, behind the thickets again new beds of flowers, which being under the trees, the trees were to them a Pavilion, and they to the trees a mosaical floor: so that it seemed that art therein would needs be delightful by counterfeiting his enemy error, and making order in confusion.  
In the midst of all the place, was a fair pond, argument key no. 1 whose shaking crystal was a perfect mirror to all the other beauties, so that it bore show of two gardens; one in deed, the other in shadows: and in one of the thickets was a fine fountain made thus. A naked Venus of white marble, wherein the graver had used such cunning, that the natural blue veins of the marble were framed in fit places, to set forth the beautiful veins of her body. At her breast she had her babe AEneas, who seemed (having begun to suck) to leave that, to look upon her fair eyes, which smiled at the babes folly, the mean while the breast running. Hard by was a house of pleasure built for a Summer retiring place, whither Kalander leading him, he found a square room full of delightful pictures, made by the most excellent workman of Greece. There was Diana when Actaeon saw her bathing, in whose cheeks the painter had set such a colour, as was mixed between shame & disdain: & one of her foolish Nymphs, who weeping, and withal lowering, one might see the workman meant to set forth tears of anger. In another table was Atalanta; the posture of whose limbs was so lively expressed, that if the eyes were the only judges, as they be the only seers, one would have sworn the very picture had run. Besides many mo, as of Helena, Omphale, jole: but in noon of them all beauty seemed to speak so much as in a large table, which contained a comely old man, with a lady of middle age, but of excellent beauty; & more excellent would have been deemed, but that there stood between them a young maid, whose wonderfulness took away all beauty from her, but that, which it might seem she gave her back again by her very shadow. And such difference being known that it did in deed sergeant a person living, was there between her and all the other, though Goddesses, that it seemed the skill of the painter bestowed on the other new beauty, but that the beauty of her bestowed new skill of the painter. Though he thought inquisitiveness an uncomely guest, he could not choose but ask who she was, that bearing show of one being in deed, could with natural gifts go beyond the reach of invention. Kalander answered, that it was made by Philoclea, the younger daughter of his prince, who also with his wife were contained in that Table: the painter meaning to represent the present condition of the young Lady, who stood watched by an over-curious eye of her parents: & that he would also have drawn her eldest sister, esteemed her match for beauty, in her shepheardish attire; but that the rude clown her guardian would not suffer it: neither durst he ask leave of the Prince for fear of suspicion. Palladius perceived that the matter was wrapped up in some secrecy, and therefore would for modesty demand no further: but yet his countenance could not but with dumb Eloquence desire it: Which Kalander perceiving, well said he, my dear guest, I know your mind, and I will satisfy it: neither will I do it like a niggardly answerer, going no further than the bounds of the question, but I will discover unto you, aswell that wherein my knowledge is common with others, as that which by extraordinary means is delivered unto me: knowing so much in you, though not long acquainted, that I shall found your ears faithful treasurers. So then sitting down in two chairs, and sometimes casting his eye to the picture, he thus spoke.  
This country Arcadia among all the provinces of argument key no. 2 Greece, hath ever been had in singular reputation: partly for the sweetness of the air, and other natural benefies, but principally for the well tempered minds of the people, who (finding that the shining title of glory so much affected by other nations, doth in deed help little to the happiness of life) are the only people, which as by their justice and providence give neither cause nor hope to their neighbours to annoyed them, so are they not stirred with false praise to trouble others quiet, thinking it a small reward for the wasting of their own lives in ravening, that their posterity should long after faith, they had done so. Even the Muses seem to approve their good determination, by choosing this country for their chief repairing place, & by bestowing their perfections so largely here, that the very shepherds have their fancies lifted to so high conceits, as the learned of other nations are content both to borrow their names, and imitate their cunning.  
Here dwelleth, and reigneth this Prince (whose picture argument key no. 3 you see) by name Basilius, a Prince of sufficient skill to govern so quiet a country, where the good minds of the former princes had set down good laws, and the well bringing up of the people doth serve as a most sure bond to hold them. But to be plain with you, he excels in nothing so much, as in the zealous love of his people, wherein he doth not only pass all his own fore-goers, but as I think all the princes living. Whereof the cause is, that though he exceed not in the virtues which get admiration; as depth of wisdom, height of courage and largeness of magnificence, yet is he notable in those which stir affection, as truth of word, meekness, courtesy, mercifulness, and liberality.  
argument key no. 4 He being already well stricken in years, married a young princes, named Gynoecia, daughter to the king of Cyprus, of notable beauty, as by her picture you see: a woman of great wit, and in truth of more princely virtues, than her husband: of most unspotted chastity, but of so working a mind, and so vehement spirits, as a man may say, it was happy she took a good course: for otherwise it would have been terrible.  
argument key no. 5 Of these two are brought to the world two daughters, so beyond measure excellent in all the gifts allotted to reasonable creatures, that we may think they were borne to show, that Nature is no stepmother to that sex, how much so ever some men (sharp witted only in evil speaking) have sought to disgrace them. The elder is named Pamela; by many men not deemed inferior to her sister: for my part, when I marked them both, me thought there was (if at lest such perfections may receive the word of more) more sweetness in Philoclea, but more majesty in Pamela: me thought love played in Philoclea's eyes, and threatened in Pamela's: me thought Philoclea's beauty only persuaded, but so persuaded as all hearts must yield: Pamela's beauty used violence, and such violence as no heart could resist: and it seems that such proportion is between their minds; Philoclea so bashful as though her excellences had stolen into her before she was ware: so humble, that she will put all pride out of countenance: in sum, such proceeding as will stir hope, but teach hope good manners. Pamela of high thoughts, who auoides not pride with not knowing her excellencies, but by making that one of her excellencies to be void of pride; her mother's wisdom, greatness, nobility, but (if I can guess aright) knit with a more constant temper. Now then, our Basilius being so publicly happy as to be a Prince, and so happy in that happiness as to be a beloved Prince, and so in his private blessed as to have so excellent a wife, and so overexcellent children, hath of late taken a course which yet makes him more spoken of then all these blessings. For, having made a journey to Delphos, and safely returned, within short space he broke up his court, and retired himself, his wife, and children into a certain Forest hereby, which he calleth his desert, where in (besides a house appointed for stables and lodgings for certain persons of mean calling, who do all household services,) he hath builded two fine lodges. In the one of them himself remains with his younger daughter Philoclea, which was the cause they three were matched together in this picture, without having any other creature living in that lodge with him.  
Which though it be strange, yet not so strange, argument key no. 6 as the course he hath taken with the princess Pamela, whom he hath placed in the other lodge: but how think you accompanied? truly with noon other, but one Dam, the most arrant doltish clown, that I think ever was without the privilege of a babble, with his wife Miso, and daughter Mopsa, in whom no wit can devise any thing wherein they may pleasure her, but to exercise her patience, and to serve for a foil of her perfections. This loutish clown is such, that you never seen so ill favoured a visar; his behaviour such, that he is beyond the degree of ridiculous; and for his apparel, even as I would wish him: Miso his wife, so handsome a beldame, that only her face and her splaysoote have made her accused for a witch; only one good point she hath, that she observes decorum, having a froward mind in a wretched body. Between these two personages (who never agreed in any humour, butin disagreeing) is issued forth mistress Mopsa, a fit woman to participate of both their perfections: but because a pleasant fellow of my acquaintance set forth her praises in verse, I will only repeat them, and spare my own tongue, since she goes for a woman. These verses are these, which I have so often caused to be song, that I have them without book.  

What length of verse can serve brave Mopsa's good to show?  
Whose virtues strange, & beauties such, as no ma them may know  
Thus shrewdly burdened them, how can my Muse escape?  
The gods must help, and precious things must serve to show her shape.  
Like great god Saturn fair, and like fair Venus chaste:  
As smooth as Pan, as juno mild, like goddess Iris fast.  
With Cupid she foresees, and goes god Vulcan's pace:  
And for a taste of all these gifts, she steals god Momus grace.  
Her forehead hyacinth like, her cheeks of opal hue,  
Her twinkling eyes bedecked with pearl, her lips as Saphir blew:  
Her hair like Craple-stone; her mouth OH heavenly wide;  
Her skin like burnished gold, her hands like silver ure untryde.  
As for her parts unknown, which hidden sure are best:  
happy be they which well believe, & never seek the rest.   
Now truly having made these descriptions unto you, me thinks you should imagine that I rather feign some pleasant devise, then recount a truth, that a Prince (not banished from his own wits) could possibly make so unworthy a choice. But truly (dear guest) so it is, that Princes (whose doings have been often soothed with good success) think nothing so absurd, which they cannot make honourable. The beginning of his credit was by the Princes straying out of the way, one time he hunted, where meeting this fellow, and ask him the way; & so falling into other questions, he found some of his answers (as a dog sure if he could speak, had wit enough to describe his kennel) not unsensible, & all uttered with such rudeness, which he enterpreted plainness (though there be great difference between them) that Basilius conceiving a sudden delight, took him to his Court, with apparent show of his good opinion: where the flattering courtier had no sooner taken the Prince's mind, but that there were strait reasons to confirm the Princes doing, & shadows of virtues found for Dam. His silence grew wit, his bluntness integrity, his beastly ignorance virtuous simplicity: & the Prince (according to the nature of great persons, in love with that he had done himself) fancied, that his weakness with his presence would much be mended. And so like a creature of his own making, he liked him more and more, and thus having first given him the office of principal herdman, lastly, since he took this strange determination, he hath in a manner put the life of himself and his children into his hands. Which authority (like too great a sail for so small a boat) doth so oversway poor Dam, that if before he were a good fool in a chamber, he might be allowed it now in a comedy: So as I doubt me (I fear me in deed) my master will in the end (with his cost) find, that his office is not to make men, but to use men as men are; no more than a horse will be taught to hunt, or an ass to manage. But in sooth I am afraid I have given your ears too great a sursette, with the gross discourses of that heavy piece of flesh. But the zealous grease I conceve to see so great an error in my Lord, hath made me bestow more words, than I confess so base a subject deserveth.   

CHAP. 4.  
The ¹ cause of Basilius his discourting. ² Philanax his dissuasive letter. ³ Basilius his privileged company. ⁴ Four causes why old men are discoursers. ⁵ The state, the skill, and exercise of the Arcadian shepherds.  
argument key no. 1 THus much now that I have told you, is nothing more than in effect any Arcadian knows. But what moved him to this strange solitariness hath been imparted (as I think) but to one person living. Myself can conjecture, & in deed more than conjecture, by this accident that I will tell you: I have an only son, by name Clitophon, who is now absent, preparing for his own marriage, which I mean shortly shalbe here celebrated. This son of my (while the Prince kept his Court) was of his bedchamber; now since the breaking up thereof, returned home, and showed me (among other things he had gathered) the copy which he had taken of a letter: which when the prince had read, he had laid in a window, presuming no body durst look in his writings: but my son not only took a time to read it, but to copy it. In truth I blamed Clitophon for the curiosity, which made him break his duty in such a kind, whereby king's secrets are subject to be revealed: but since it was done, I was content to take so much profit, as to know it. Now here is the letter, that I ever since for my good liking, have carried about me: which before I read unto you, I must tell you from whom it come. It is a nobleman of this country, named Philanax, appointed by the Prince, Regent in this time of his retiring, and most worthy so to be: for, there lives no man, whose excellent wit more simply imbraseth integrity, besides his unfeigned love to his master, wherein never yet any could make question, saving, whither he loved Basilius or the Prince better: a rare temper, while most men either servilely yield to all appetites, or with an obstinate austerity looking to that they fancy good, in effect neglect the Prince's person. This then being the man, whom of all other (and most worthy) the Prince chiefly loves, it should seem (for more than the letter I have not to guess by) that the Prince upon his return from Delphos, (Philanax then lying sick) had written unto him his determination, rising (as evidently appears) upon some Oracle he had there received: whereunto he wrote this answer.  
Philanax his letter to Basilius.  
MOst redoubted & beloved prince, if aswell it had pleased argument key no. 2 you at your going to Delphos as now, to have used my humble service, both I should in better season, and to better purpose have spoken: and you (if my speech had prevailed) should have been at this time, as no way more in danger, so much more in quietness; I would then have said, that wisdom, and virtue be the only destinies appointed to man to follow, whence we aught to seek all our knowledge, since they be such guides as cannot fail; which, besides their inward consort, do led so direct a way of proceeding, as either prosperity must ensue; or, if the wickedness of the world should oppress it, it can never be said, that evil happeneth to him, who falls accompanied with virtue: I would then have said, the heavenly powers to be reverenced, and not searched into; & their mercies rather by prayers to be sought, than their hidden counsels by curiosity. These kind of soothsayers (since they have left us in ourselves sufficient guides) to be nothing but fancy, wherein there must either be vanity, or infallibleness, & so, either not to be respected, or not to be prevented. But since it is weakness too much to remember what should have been done, and that your commandment stretcheth to know what is to be done, I do (most dear Lord) with humble boldness say, that the manner of your determination doth in no sort better please me, than the cause of your going. These thirty years you have so governed this Region, that neither your Subjects have wanted justice in you, nor you obedience in them; & your neighbours have found you so hurtlesly strong, that they thought it better to rest in your friendship, then make new trial of your enmity. If this than have proceeded out of the good constitution of your state, and out of a wise providence, generally to prevent all those things, which might encumber your happiness: why should you now seek new courses, since your own ensample comforts you to continued, and that it is to me most certain (though it please you not to tell me the very words of the Oracle) that yet no destiny, nor influence whatsoever, can bring man's wit to a higher point than wisdom and goodness? Why should you deprive yourself of government, for fear of losing your government? like one that should kill himself for fear of death? nay rather, if this Oracle be to be accounted of, arm up your courage the more against it: for who will stick to him that abandones himself? Let your subjects have you in their eyes; let them see the benefits of your justice daily more and more; and so must they needs rather like of present sureties, then uncertain changes. Lastly, whither your time call you to live or die, do both like a prince. Now for your second resolution; which is, to suffer no worthy prince to be a suitor to either of your daughters, but while you live to keep them both unmarried; & as it were, to kill the joy of posterity, which in your time you may enjoy: moved perchance by a misunderstoode Oracle. What shall I say? if the affection of a father to his own children, cannot pled sufficiently against such fancies: once certain it is, the God, which is God of nature, doth never teach unnaturalness: and even the same mind hold I touching your banishing them from company, lest, I know not what strange loves should follow. Certainly Sir, in my ladies, your daughters, nature promiseth nothing but goodness, and their education by your fatherly care, hath been hitherto such, as hath been most fit to restrain all evil: giving their minds virtuous delights, and not grecuing them for want of wel-ruled liberty. Now to fall to a sudden straightening them, what can it do but argue suspicion, a thing no more unpleasant, then unsure, for the preserving of virtue? Leave women's minds, the most untamed that way of any: see whetherany cage can please a bird? or whither a dog grow not fierce with tying? what doth jealousy, but stir up the mind to think, what it is from which they are restrained? for they are treasures, or things of great delight, which men use to hide, for the aptness they have to catch men's fancies: and the thoughts once awaked to that, harder sure it is to keep those thoughts from accomplishment, than it had been before to have kept the mind (which being the chief part, by this means is defiled) from thinking. Lastly, for the recommending so principal a charge of the Princess Pamela, (whose mind goes beyond the governing of many thousands such) to such a person as Dam is (besides that the thing in itself is strange) it comes of a very evil ground, that ignorance should be the mother of faithfulness. OH not, he cannot be good, that knows not why he is good, but stands so far good, as his fortune may keep him unassaied: but coming once to that, his rude simplicity is either easily changed, or easily deceived: & so grows that to be the last excuse of his fault, which seemed to have been the first foundation of his faith. Thus far hath your commandment and my zeal drawn me; which I, like a man in a valley that may discern hills, or like a poor passenger that may spy a rock, so humbly submit to your gracious consideration, beseeching you again, to stand wholly upon your own virtue, as the surest way to maintain you in that you are, and to avoid any evil which may be imagined.  
By the contents of this letter you may perceive, that the cause of all, hath been the vanity which possesseth many, who (making a perpetual mansion of this poor baiting place of man's life) are desirous to know the certainty of things to come; wherein there is nothing so certain, as our continual uncertainty. But what in particular points the oracle was, in faith I know not: neither (as you may see by one place of Philanax letter) he himself distinctly knew. But this experience shows us, that Basilius judgement, corrupted with a Princes fortune, hath rather heard then followed the wise (as I take it) counsel of Philanax. For, having lost the stern of his government, with much amazement to the people, among whom many strange bruits are received for currant, and with some appearance of danger in respect of the valiant Amphalus his nephew, & much envy in the ambitious number of the Nobility against Philanax, to see Philanax so advanced, though (to speak simply) he deserve more than as many of us as there be in Arcadia: the prince himself hath hidden his head, in such sort as I told you, not sticking plainly to confess, that he means not (while he breathes) that his daughters shall have any husband, but keep them thus solitary with him: where he argument key no. 3 gives no other body leave to visit him at any time, but a certain priest, who being excellent in poetry, he makes him writ out such things as he best likes, he being no less delightful in conversation, them needful for devotion, & about twenty specified shepherds, in whom (some for exercises, & some for Eglogs) he taketh greater recreation.  
And now you know as much as myself: wherein if I argument key no. 4 have held you over long, lay hardly the fault upon my old eage, which in the very disposition of it is talkaive: whither it be (said he smiling) that nature loves to exercise that part most, which is least decayed, and that is our tongue: or, that knowledge being the only thing whereof we poor old men can brag, we cannot make it known but by utterance: or, that mankind by all means seeking to eternize himself so much the more, as he is near his end, doth it not only by the children that come of him, but by speeches and writings recommended to the memory of hearers and readers. And yet thus much I will say for myself, that I have not laid these matters, either so openly, or largely to any as yourself: so much (if I much sail not) do I see in you, which makes me both love and trust you. Never may he be old, answered Palladius, that doth not reverence that age, whose heaviness, if it way down the frail and fleshly balance, it as much lifts up the noble and spiritual part: and well might you have alleged another reason, that their wisdom makes them willing to profit others. And that have I received of you, never to be forgotten, but with ungratefulness. But among many strange conceits you told me, which have showed effects in your Prince, truly even the last, that he should conceive such pleasure in shepherds discourses, would not seem the lest unto me, saving that you told me at the first, that this country is notable in those wits, and that in deed myself having been brought not only to this place, but to my life, by Strephon and Claius, in their conference found wits as might better become such shepherds as Homer speaks of, that be governors of peoples, than such senators who hold their council in a shepecoate: for them two (said Kalander) especially Claius, they are beyond the rest by so much, as learning commonly doth add to nature: for, having neglected their wealth in respect of their knowledge, they have not so much impaired the meaner, as they bettered the better. Which all notwithstanding, it is a sport to hear how they impute to love, which hath endued their thoughts (say they) with such a strength.  
But certainly, all the people of this country from argument key no. 5 high to low, is given to those sports of the wit, so as you would wonder to hear how soon even children will begin to versify. Once, ordinary it is among the meanest sort, to make Songs and Dialogues in meeter, either love whetting their brain, or long peace having begun it, example and emulation amending it. Not so much, but the clown Dam will stumble sometimes upon some Songs that might become a better brain: but no sort of people so excellent in that kind as the pastors; for their living standing but upon the looking to their beasts, they have ease, the Nurse of Poetry. Neither are our shepherds such, as (I hear) they be in other countries; but they are the very owners of the sheep, to which either themselves look, or their children give daily attendance. And then truly, it would delight you under some tree, or by some rivers side (when two or three of them meet together) to hear their rurrall muse, how prettily it will deliver out, sometimes joys, sometimes lamentations, sometimes chalenging one of the other, sometimes under hidden forms uttering such matters, as otherwise they durst not deal with. Than they have most commonly one, who judgeth the price to the best doer, of which they are no less glad, then great Princes are of triumphs: and his part is to set down in writing all that is said, save that it may be, his pen with more leisure doth polish the rudeness of an unthought-on song. Now the choice of all (as you may well think) either for goodness of voice, or pleasantness of wit, the Prince hath: among whom also there are two or three strangers, whom inward melancholies having made weighed of the worlds eyes, have come to spend their lives among the country people of Arcadia; & their conversation being well approved, the prince vouchsafeth them his presence, and not only by looking on, but by great courtesy and liberality, animates the shepherds the more exquisitely to labour for his good liking. So that there is no cause to blame the Prince for sometimes hearing them; the blame-worthinesse is, that to hear them, he rather goes to solitariness, then makes them come to company. Neither do I accuse my master for advancing a countryman, as Dam is, since God forbidden, but where worthiness is (as truly it is among divers of that fellowship) any outward lowness should hinder the highest raising, but that he would needs make election of one, the baseness of whose mind is such, that it sinks a thousand degrees lower, than the basest body could carry the most base fortune: Which although it might be answered for the Prince, that it is rather a trust he hath in his simple plainness, than any great advancement, being but chief herdman: yet all honest hearts feel, that the trust of their Lord goes beyond all advancement. But I am ever too long upon him, when he crosseth the way of my speech, and by the shadow of yonder Tower, I see it is a fit time, with our supper to pay the duties we own to our stomachs, them to break the air with my idle discourses: And more wit I might have learned of Homer (whom even now you mentioned) who never entertained either guests or hosts with long speeches, till the mouth of hunger be thoroughly stopped. So withal he rose, leading Palladius through the garden again to the parlour, where they used to sup; Palladius assuring him, that he had already been more fed to his liking, than he could be by the skilfullest trencher-men of Media.   

CHAP. 5.  
The ¹ sorrow of Kalander for his son Clitophon. The ² story of Argalus and Parthenia, their ³ perfections, their ⁴ love, their ⁵ troubles, her ⁶ impoysoning, ⁷ his rare constancy, ⁸ her strange refusal, ⁹ their pathologies, her ¹⁰ flight, his ¹¹ revenge on his rival the mischiefe-worker Demagoras, than Captain of the rebel Helots', who ¹² take him, and ¹³ Clitophon that sought to help him: but ¹⁴ both are kept alive by their new captain.  
But being come to the supping place, one of Kalander's servants argument key no. 1 rounded in his ear; at which (his colour changing) he retired himself into his chamber; commanding his men diligently to wait and attended upon Palladius, and to excuse his absence with some necessary business he had presently to dispatch. Which they accordingly did, for some few days forcing themselves to let no change appear: but though they framed their countenances never so cunningly, Palladius perceived there was some il-pleasing accident fallen out. Whereupon, being again set alone at supper, he called to the Steward, and desired him to tell him the matter of his sudden alteration: who after some trifling excuses, in the end confessed unto him, that his master had received news, that his son before the day of his near marriage, chanced to be at a battle, which was to be fought between the Gentlemen of Lacedaemon and the Helots: who winning the victory, he was there made prisoner, going to deliver a friend of his taken prisoner by the Helots; that the poor young Gentleman had offered great ransom for his life: but that the hate those paysaunts conceived against all Gentlemen was such, that every hour he was to look for nothing, but some cruel death: which hether-unto had only been delayed by the Captains vehement dealing for him, who seemed to have a heart of more manly pity then the rest. Which loss had stricken the old Gentleman with such sorrow, as if abundance of tears did not seem suffciently to witness it, he was alone retired, tearing his beard and hair, and cursing his old age, that had not made his grave to stop his ears from such advertisements: but that his faithful servants had written in his name to all his friends, followers, and tenants (Philanax the governor refusing to deal in it, as a private cause, but yet giving leave to seek their best redress, so as they wronged not the state of Lacedaemon) of whom there were now gathered upon the frontiers good forces, that he was sure would spend their lives by any way, to redeem or revenge Clitophon. Now sir (said he) this is my masters nature, though his grief be such, as to live is a grief unto him, & that even his reason is darkened with sorrow; yet the laws of hospitality (long and holily observed by him) give still such a sway to his proceeding, that he will no way suffer the stranger lodged under his roof, to receive (as it were) any infection of his anguish, especially you, toward whom I know not whither his love, or admiration be greater. But Palladius could scarce hear out his tale with patience: so was his heart torn in pieces with compassion of the case, liking of Kalander's noble behaviour, kindness for his respect to himwarde, and desire to find some remedy, besides the image of his dearest friend Daiphantus, whom he judged to suffer eythera like or a worse fortune: therefore rising from the board, he desired the steward to tell him particularly, the ground, and event of this accident, because by knowledge of many circumstances, there might perhaps some way of help be opened. Whereunto the Steward easily in this sort condescended.  
My Lord (said he) when our good king Basilius, with argument key no. 2 better success than expectation, took to wife (even in his more than decaying years) the fair young princes Cynccia; there come with her a young Lord, cousin german to herself, named Argalus, led hither, partly with the love & honour of his noble kinswoman, partly with the humour of youth, which ever thinks that good, whose goodness he secs not: & in this court he received so good increase of knowledge, that after some years spent, he so manifested a most virtuous mind in all his argument key no. 3 actions, that Arcadia gloried such a plant was transported unto them, being a Gentleman in deed most rarely accomplished, excellently learned, but without all vain glory: friendly, without factiousness: valiant, so as for my part I think the earth hath no man that hath done more heroical acts than he; how soever now of late the same flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, and hath long done of our noble prince Amphialus: who in deed, in our parts is only accounted likely to match him: but I say for my part, I think no man for valour of mind, and ability of body to be preferred, if equalled to Argalus; and yet so valiant as he never durst do any body injury: in behaviour some will say ever sad, surely sober, and somewhat given to musing, but never uncourteous; his word ever led by his thought, and followed by his deed; rather liberal than magnificent, though the one wanted not, and the other had ever good choice of the receiver: in sum (for I perceive I shall easily take a great draft of his praises, whom both I and all this country love so well) such a man was (and I hope is) Argalus, as hardly the nicest eye can find a spot in, if the over-vehement constancy of yet spotless affection, may not in hard wrested constructions be counted a spot: which in this manner began that work in him, which hath made both him, and itself in him, over all this country famous. My masters son Clitophon (whose loss gives the cause to this discourse, and yet gives me cause to begin with Argalus, since his loss proceeds from Argalus) being a young Gentleman, as of great birth (being our king's sisters son) so truly of good nature, and one that can see good and love it, haunted more the company of this worthy Argalus, then of any other: so as if there were not? friendship (which is so rare, as it is to be doubted whither it be a thing in deed, or but a word) at lest there was such a liking and friendliness, as hath brought forth the effects which you shall hear. About two years since, it so fell out, that he brought him to a great Lady's house, sister to my master, who had with her, her only daughter, the fair Parthenia; fair in deed (same I think itself daring not to call any fairer, if it be not Helena queen of Corinth, and the two incomparable sisters of Arcadia) and that which made her fairness much the fairer, was, that it was but a fair ambassador of a most fair mind, full of wit, and a wit which delighted more to judge itself, then to show itself: her speech being is rare as precious; her silence without sullenness; her modesty without affectation; her shamefastness without ignorance: in sum, one, that to praise well, one must first set down with himself, what it is to be excellent: for so she is.  
I think you think, that these perfections meeting, argument key no. 4 could not choose but found one another, and delight in that they found; for likeness of manners is likely in reason to draw liking with affection: men's actions do not always cross with reason: to be short, it did so in deed. They loved, although for a while the fire thereof (hopes wings being cut of) were blown by the bellows of despair, upon this occasion.  
There had been a good while before, and so continued, argument key no. 5 a futer to this same lady, a great noble man, though of Laconia, yet near neighbour to Parthenia's mother, named Demagoras: A man mighty in riches & power, and proud thereof, stubbornly stout, loving no body but himself, and for his own delights sake Parthenia: and pursuing vehemently his desire, his riches had so guilded over all his other imperfections, that the old Lady (though contrary to my Lord her brother's mind) had given her consent; and using a mother's authorities upon her fair daughter, had made her yield thereunto, not because she liked her choice, but because her obedient mind had not yet taken upon it to make choice; and the day of their assurance drew near, when my young Lord Clitophon brought this noble Argalus, perchance principally to see so rare a fight, as Parthenia by all well judging eyes was judged.  
But though sue days were before the time of assurance appointed, yet love that saw he had a great journey to make in short time, hasted so himself, that before her word could tie her to Demagoras, her heart hath vowed her to Argalus, with so grateful a receit in mutual affection, that if she desired above all things to have Argalus, Argalus feared nothing but to miss Parthenia. And now Parthenia had learned both liking and misliking, loving and loathing, and out of passion began to take the authority of judgement; in so much, that when the time come that Demagoras (full of proud joy) thought to receive the gift of herself, she with words of resolute refusal (though with tears showing she was sorry she must refuse) assured her mother, she would first be bedded in her grave, then wedded to Demagoras. The change was no more strange, then unpleasant to the mother: who being determinately (lest I should say of a great Lady wilfully) bent to marry her to Demagoras, tried all ways which a witty and hard-hearted mother could use, upon so humble a daughter: in whom the only resisting power was love. But the more she assaulted, the more she taught Parthenia to defend: and the more Parthenia defended, the more she made her mother obstinate in the assault: who at length finding, that Argalus standing between them, was it that most eclipsed her affection from shining upon Demagoras, she sought all means how to remove him, so much the more, as he manifested himself an unremovable suitor to her daughter: first, by employing him in as many dangerous enterprises, as ever the evil stepmother juno recommended to the famous Hercules: but the more his virtue was tried, the more pure it grew, while all the things she did to overthrow him, did set him up upon the height of honour; enough to have moved her heart, especially to a man every way so worthy as Argalus: but she struggling against all reason, because she would have her will, and show her authority in matching her with Demagoras, the more virtuous Argalus was, the more he hated him: thinking herself conquered in his conquests, and therefore still employing him in more and more dangerous attempts: mean while, she used all extremities possible upon her fair daughter, to make her give over herself to her direction. But it was hard to judge, whither he in doing, or she in suffering, showed greater constancy of affection: for, as to Argalus the world sooner wanted occasions, than he valour to go thorough them; so to Parthenia, malice sooner ceased, than her unchanged patience. Lastly, by treasons, Demagoras and she would have made away Argalus: but he with providence & courage so past over all, that the mother took such a spiteful grief at it, that her heart broke withal, and she died.  
argument key no. 6 But then, Demagoras assuring himself, that now Parthenia was her own, she would never be his, and receiving as much by her own determinate answer, not more desiring his own happiness, then envying Argalus, whom he seen with narrow eyes, even ready to enjoy the perfection of his desires; strengthening his conceit with all the mischievous counsels which disdained love, and envious pride could give unto him; the wicked wretch (taking a time that Argalus was go to his country, to fetch some of his principal friends to honour the marriage, which Parthenia had most joyfully consented unto,) the wicked Demagoras (I say) desiring to speak with her, with unmerciful force, (her weak arms in vain resisting) rubbed all over her face a most horrible poison: the effect whereof was such, that never leper looked more ugly than she did: which done, having his men & horses ready, departed away in spite of her servants, as ready to revenge as they could be, in such an unexpected mischief. But the abhominablenes of this fact being come to my L. Kalander, he made such means, both by our king's intercession, & his own, that by the king, & Senate of Lacedaemon, Demagoras was upon pain of death, banished the country: who hating the punishment, where he should have hated the fault, joined himself, with all the powers he could make, unto the Helots, lately in rebellion against that state: and they (glad to have a man of such authority among them) made him their general: & under him have committed divers the most outrageous villainies, that a base multitude (full of desperate revenge) can imagine.  
But within a while after this pitiful fact committed argument key no. 7 upon Parthenia, Argalus returned (poor gentleman) having her fair image in his heart, and already promising his eyes the uttermost of his felicity, when they (no body else daring to tell it him) were the first messengers to themselves of their own misfortune. I mean not to move passions with telling you the grief of both, when he knew her, for at first he did not, nor at first knowledge could possibly have virtues aid so ready, as not even weakly to lament the loss of such a jewel, so much the more, as that skilful men in that arte assured it was unrecoverable: but within a while, truth of love (which still held the first face in his memory) a virtuous constancy, and even a delight to be constant, faith given, and inward worthiness shining through the foulest mists, took so full hold of the noble Argalus, that not only in such comfort which witty arguments may bestow upon adversity, but even with the most abundant kindness that an eye-ravished lover can express, he laboured both to drive the extremity of sorrow from her, & to hasten the celebration of their marriage: whereunto he unsainedly showed himself no less cheerfully earnest, then if she had never been disinherited of that goodly portion, which nature had so liberally bequeathed unto her: and for that cause deferred his intended revenge upon Demagoras, because he might continually be in her presence; showing more humble serviceableness, and joy to content her, than ever before.  
But as he gave this rare ensaple, not to be hoped for of argument key no. 8 any other, but of an other Argalus: so of the other side, she took as strange a course in affection: for, where she desired to enjoy him, more than to live; yet did she overthrow both her own desire, and his, and in no sort would yield to mary him; with a strange encounter of loves affects, and effects: that he by an affection sprung from excessive beauty, should delight in horrible soulness; and she, of a vehement desire to have him, should kindly build a resolution never to have him: for truth is, that so in heart she loved him, as she could not find in her heart he should be tied to what was unworthy of his presence.  
argument key no. 9 Truly Sir, a very good Orator might have a fair field to use eloquence in, if he did but only repeat the lamentable, and truly affectionated speeches, while he conjured her by remembrance of her affection, & true oaths of his own affection, not to make him so unhappy, as to think he had not only lost her face, but her heart; that her face, when it was fairest, had been but as a marshal, to lodge the love of her in his mind; which now was so well placed, as it needed no further help of any outward harbinger: beseeching her, even with tears, to know, that his love was not so superficial, as to go no further than the skin; which yet now to him was most fair, since it was hers: how could he be so ungrateful, as to love her the less for that, which she had only received for his sake: that he never beheld it, but therein he seen the loveliness of her love toward him: protesting unto her, that he would never take joy of his life, if he might not enjoy her, for whom principally he was glad he had life. But (as I heard by one that overheard them) she (wring him by the hand) made no other answer but this: my Lord (said she) God knows Ilove you: if I were Princess of the whole world, and had withal, all the blessings that ever the world brought forth, I should not make delay, to lay myself, & them, under your feet: or if I had continued but as I was, though (I must confess) far unworthy of you, yet would I, (with too great a joy for my heart to think of) have accepted your vouchsasing me to be yours, & with faith and obedience would have supplied all other defects. But first let me be much more miserable than I am, ere I match Argalus to such a Parthenia: Live happy, dear Argalus, I give you full liberty, and I beseech you take it; and I assure you I shall rejoice (whatsoever become of me) to see you so coupled, as may be sit, both for your honour, and satisfaction. With that the burst out in crying and weeping, not able longer to contain herself from blaming her fortune, and wishing her own death.  
But Argalus with a most heavy heart still pursuing argument key no. 10 his desire, she fixed of mind to avoid further entreaty, & to fly all company; which (even of him) grew unpleasant unto her; one night she stole away: but whither, as yet is unknown, or in deed what is become of her.  
Argalus sought her long, and in many places: at argument key no. 11 length (despairing to find her, and the more he despaired, the more enraged) weary of his life, but first determining to be revenged of Demagoras, he went alone disguised into the chief town held by the Helots: where coming into his presence, guarded about by many of his soldiers, he could delay his fury no longer for a fit time: but setting upon him, in despite of a great many that helped him, gave him divers mortal wounds, and himself (no question) had been there presently argument key no. 12 murdered, but that Demagoras himself desired he might be kept alive; perchance with intention to feed his own eyes with some cruel execution to be laid upon him, but death come sooner than he looked for; yet having had leisure to appoint his successor, a young man, not long before delivered out of the prison of the King of Lacedoemon, where he should have suffered death for having slain the king's Nephew: but him he named, who at that time was absent, making roads upon the Lacedæmonians, but being returned, the rest of the Helots, for the great liking they conceived of that young man, (especially because they had noon among themselves to whom the others would yield) were content to follow Demagoras appointment. And well hath it succeeded with them, he having since done things beyond the hope of the youngest heads; of whom I speak the rather, because he hath hitherto preserved Argalus alive, under pretence to have him publicly, and with exquisite torments executed, after the end of these wars, of which they hope for a soon and prosperous issue.  
And he hath likewise hitherto kept my young Lord argument key no. 13 Clitophon alive, who (to redeem his friend) went with certain other noblemen of Laconia, and forces gathered by them, to besiege this young and new successor: but he issuing out (to the wonder of all men) defeated argument key no. 14 the Laconians, flew many of the noblemen, & took Clitophon prisoner, whom with much a do he keepeth alive: the Helots being villainously cruel; but he tempereth them so, sometimes by following their humour, sometimes by striving with it, that hitherto he hath saved both their lives, but in different estates; Argalus being kept in a close & hard prison, Clitophon at some libertic. And now Sir, though (to say the truth) we can promise' ourselves little of their safeties, while they are in the Helots hands, I have delivered all I understand touching the loss of my Lord's son, & the cause thereof: which, though it was not necessary to Clitophons' case, to be so particularly told, yet the strangeness of it, made me think would not be unpleasant unto you.   

CHAP. 6.  
¹ Kalander's expedition against the Helots. ² Their estate. ³ Palladius his stratagem against them: ⁴ which prevaileth. ⁵ The Helots resistance, discomfiture, and ⁶ reinforce by the return of their new captain ⁷ The combat and ⁸ enterknowledge of Daiphantus & Palladius, and by their ⁹ means a peace, with ¹⁰ the release of Kalander and Clitophon.  
PAlladius thanked him greatly for it, being even passionately delighted with hearing so strange an accident of a knight so famous over the world, as Argalus, with whom he had himself a long desire to meet: so had same poured a noble emulation in him, towards him.  
But then (well bethinking himself) he called for armour, argument key no. 1 desiring them to provide him of horse & guide, and armed all saving the head, he went up to Kalander, whom he found lying upon the ground, having ever since banished both sleep and food, as enemies to the mourning which passion persuaded him was reasonable. But Palladius raised him up, saying unto him: Not more, no more of this, my Lord Kalander; let us labour to find, before we lament the loss: you know myself miss one, who, though he be not my son, I would disdain the favour of life after him: but while there is hope left, let not the weakness of sorrow, make the strength of it languish: take comfort, and good success will follow. And with those words, comfort seemed to lighten in his eyes, and that in his face and gesture was painted victory. Once, Kalander's spirits were so revived withal, that (receiving some sustenance, and taking a little rest) he armed himself, and those few of his servants he had left unsent, and so himself guided Palladius to the place upon the frontiers: where already there were assembled between three and four thousand men, all well disposed (for Kalander's sake) to abide any peril: but like men disused with a long peace, more determinate to do, then skilful how to do: lusty bodies, and brave armours: with such courage, as rather grew of despising their enemies, whom they knew not, then of any confidence for any thing, which in themselves they knew; but neither cunning use of their weapons, nor art showed in their marching, or encamping. Which Palladius soon perceiving, he desired to understand (as much as could be delivered unto him) the estate of the Helots.  
argument key no. 2 And he was answered by a man well acquainted with the affairs of Laconia, that they were a kind of people, who having been of old, freemen and possessioners, the Lacedæmonians had conquered them, and laid, not only tribute, but bondage upon them: which they had long borne; till of late the Lacedoemonians through greediness growing more heavy than they could bear, and through contempt less careful how to make them bear, they had with a general consent (rather springing by the generalnes of the cause, then of any artificial practice) set themselves in arms, and whetting their courage with revenge, and grounding their resolution upon despair, they had proceeded with unloked-for success: having already taken divers Towns and Castles, with the slaughter of many of the gentry; for whom no sex nor age could be accepted for an excuse. And that although at the first they had fought rather with beastly fury, than any soldierly discipline, practice had now made then comparable to the best of the Lacedoemonians; & more of late then ever; by reason, first of Demagoras a great Lord, who had made himself of their party, and since his death, of an other Captain they had gotten, who had brought up their ignorance, and brought down their fury, to such a mean of good government, and withal led them so valorously, that (besides the time wherein Clitophon was taken) they had the better in some other great conflicts: in such wise, that the estate of Lacedoemon had sent unto them, offering peace with most reasonable and honourable conditions. Palladius having gotten this general knowledge of the party against whom, as he had already of the party for whom he was to fight, he went to Kalander, and told him plainly, that by plain force there was small appearance of helping Clitophon: but some device was to be taken in hand, wherein no less discretion than valour was to be used.  
Whereupon, the council of the chief men was called argument key no. 3 and at last, this way Palladius (who by some experience, but especially by reading Histories, was acquainted with stratagems) invented, and was by all the rest approved: that all the men there should dress themselves like the poorest sort of the people in Arcadia, having no banners, but bloody shirts hanged upon long staves, with some bad bag pipes in stead of drum and fife, their armour they should aswell as might be, cover, or at lest make them look so rustilie, and ill-favouredly as might well become such wearers; and this the whole number should do, saving two hundred of the best chosen Gentlemen, for courage and strength, whereof Palladius himself would be one, who should have their arms chained, and be put in carts like prisoners. This being performed according to the agreement, they marched on towards the town of Cardamila where Clitophon was captive; and being come two hours before Sunset within view of the walls, the Helots already descrying their number, and beginning to found the alarum, they sent a cunning fellow, (so much the cunninger as that he could mask it under rudeness) who with such a kind of Rhetoric, as weeded out all flowers of Rhetoric, delivered unto the Helots assembled together, that they were country people of Arcadia, no less oppressed by their Lords, & no less desirous of liberty than they, & therefore had put themselves in the field, & had already (besides a great number slain) taken nine or ten score Gentlemen prisoners, whom they had there well & fast chained. Now because they had no strong retiring place in Arcadia, & were not yet of number enough to keep the field against their Prince's forces, they were come to them for succour; knowing, that daily more & more of their quality would flock unto than but that in the mean time, left their Prince should pursue them, or the Lacedaemonian King & Nobility (for the likeness of the cause) fall upon them, they desired that if there were not room enough for them in the town, that yet they might encamp under the walls, and for surety have their prisoners (who were such men as were ever able to make their peace) kept within the town.  
The Helots made but a short consultation, being glad argument key no. 4 that their contagion had spread itself into Arcadia, and making account that if the peace did not fall out between them and their King, that it was the best way to set fire in all the parts of Greece; besides their greediness to have so many Gentlemen in their hands, in whose ransoms they already meant to have a share; to which hast of concluding, two things well helped; the one, that their Captain with the wisest of them, was at that time absent about confirming or breaking the peace, with the state of Lacedaemon: the second, that overmany good fortunes began to breed a proud recklesnesse in them: therefore sending to view the camp, and finding that by their speech they were Arcadians, with whom they had had no war, never suspecting a private man's credit could have gathered such a force, and that all other tokens witnessed them to be of the lowest calling (besides the chains upon the Gentlemen) they granted not only leave for the prisoners, but for some others of the company, and to all, that they might harbour under the walls. So opened they the gates, and received in the carts; which being done, and Palladius sing fit time, he gave the sign, and shaking of their chains, (which were made with such art, that though they seemed most strong and fast, he that ware them might easily lose them) drew their sword hidden in the carts, and so setting upon the ward, made them to fly either from the place, or from their bodies, and so give entry to all the force of the Arcadians, before the Helots could make any head to resist them.  
argument key no. 5 But the Helots being men hardened against dangers, gathered as (well as they could) together in the market place, and thence would have given a shrewd welcome to the Arcadians, but that Palladius (blaming those that were slow, heartening them that were forward, but especially with his own ensample leading them) made such an impression into the squadron of the Helots, that at first the great body of them beginning to shake, and stagger; at length, every particular body recommended the protection of his life to his feet. Than Kalander cried to go to the prison, where he thought his son was, but Palladius wished him (first scouring the streets) to house all the Helots, and make themselves masters of the gates.  
argument key no. 6 But ere that could be accomplished, the Helots had gotten new heart, and with divers forts of shot from corners of streets, and house windows, galled them; which courage was come unto them by the return of their Captian; who though he brought not many with him (having dispersed most of his companies to other of his holds) yet meeting a great number running out of the gate, not yet possessed by the Arcadians, he made them turn face, & with banners displayed, his Trumpet give the loudest testimony he could of his return, which once heard, the rest of the Helots which were otherwise scattered, bend thetherward, with a new life of resolution: as if their Captain had been a root, out of which (as into branches) their courage had sprung. Than began the fight to grow most sharp, and the encounters of more cruel obstinacy. The Arcadians fight to keep that they had won, the Helots to recover what they had lost. The Arcadians, as in an unknown place, having no succour but in their hands; the Helots, as in their own place, fight for their livings, wives, & children. There was victory & courage against revenge and despair: safety of both sides being no otherwise to be gotten, but by destruction.  
At length, the left wing of the Arcadians began to argument key no. 7 lose ground; which Palladius seeing, he strength thrust himself with his choice band against the throng that oppressed them, with such an overflowing of valour, that the Captain of the Helots (whose eyes soon judged of that wherewith themselves were governed) seen that he alone was worth all the rest of the Arcadians. Which he so wondered at, that it was hard to say, whither he more liked his doings, or misliked the effects of his doings: but determining that upon that cast the game lay, and disdaining to fight with any other, fought only to join with him: which mind was no less in Palladius, having easily marked, that he was as the first mover of all the other hands. And so their thoughts meeting in one point, they consented (though not agreed) to try each others fortune: & so drawing themselves to be the uttermost of the oneside, they began a combat, which was so much inferior to the battle in noise and number, as it was surpassing it in bravery of fight, & (as it were) delightful terribleness. Their courage was guided with skill, and their skill was armed with courage; neither did their hardiness darken their wit, nor their wit cool their hardiness: both valiant, as men despising death; both confident, as unwonted to be overcome; yet doutefull by their present feeling, and respectful by what they had already seen. Their feet steady, their hands diligent, their eyes watchful, & their hearts resolute. The parts either not armed, or weakly armed, were well known, and according to the knowledge should have been sharply visited, but that the answer was as quick as the objection. Yet some lighting; the smart bred rage, and the rage bred smart again: till both sides beginning to wax faint, and rather desirous to die accompanied, then hopeful to live victorious, the Captain of the Helots with a blow, whose violence grew of fury, not of strength, or of strength proceeding of fury, struck Palladius upon the side of the head, that he reeled astonished: and withal the helmet fell of, he remaining bore headed: but other of the Arcadians were ready to shield him from any harm might rise of that nakedness.  
argument key no. 8 But little needed it, for his chief enemy in steed of pursuing that advantage, kneeled down, offering to deliver the pommel of his sword, in token of yielding, with all speaking aloud unto him, that he thought it more liberty to be his prisoner, than any others general. Palladius standing upon himself, and misdoubting some craft, and the Helots (that were next their captain) wavering between looking for some stratagem, or fearing treason, What, said the captain, bath Palladius forgotten the voice of Daiphantus?  
By that watch word Palladius knew that it was his only friend Pyrocles, whom he had lost upon the argument key no. 9 Sea, and therefore both most full of wonder, so to be met, if they had not been fuller of joy then wonder, caused the retreat to be founded, Daiphantus by authority, and Palladius by persuasion; to which helped well the little advantage that was of either side: and that of the Helots' party their captains behaviour had made as many amazed as fawe or heard of it: and of the Arcadian side the good old Kalander striving more than his old age could achieve, was newly taken prisoner. But in deed, the chief parter of the fray was the night, which with her black arms pulled their malicious sights one from the other. But he that took Kalander, meant nothing less than to save him, but only so long, as the Captain might leanre the enemies secrets: towards whom he led the old Gentleman, when he caused the retreat to be founded: looking for no other delivery from that captivity, but by the painful taking away of all pain: when whom should he see next to the Captain (with good tokens how valiantly he had sought that day against the Arcadians) but his son Clitophon? But now the Captain had caused all the principal Helots to be assembled, as well to deliberate what they had to do, as to receive a message from the Arcadians; Among whom Palladius virtue (besides the love Kalander bore him) having gotten principal authority, he had persuaded them to seek rather by parley to recover the Father and the Son, then by the sword: since the goodness of the Captain assured him that way to speed, and his value (wherewith he was of old acquainted) made him think any other way dangerous. This therefore was done in orderly manner, giving them to understand, that as they come but to deliver Clitophon, so offering to leave the footing they already had in the town, to go away without any further hurt, so as they might have the father, & the son without ransom delivered. Which conditions being heard and conceived by the Helots, Daiphantus persuaded them without delay to accept them. For first (said he) since the strife is within our own home, if you lose, you lose all that in this life can be dear unto you: if you win, it will be a bloody victory with no profit, but the flattering in ourselves that same bad humour of revenge. Besides, it is like to stir Arcadia upon us, which now, by using these persons well, may be brought to some amity. Lastly, but especially, lest the king and nobility of Laconia (with whom now we have made a perfect peace) should hope, by occasion of this quarrel to join the Arcadians with them, & so break of the profitable agreement already concluded. In sum, as in all deliberations (weighing the profit of the good success with the harm of the evil success) you shall found this way most safe and honourable.  
argument key no. 10 The Helots asmuch moved by his authority, as persuaded by his reasons, were content therewith. Whereupon, Palladius took order that the Arcadians should presently march out of the town, taking with them their prisoners, while the night with mutual diffidence might keep them quiet, and ere day come they might be well on of their way, and so avoid those accidents which in late enemies, a look, a word, or a particular man's quarrel might engender. This being on both sides concluded on, Kalander and Clitophon, who now (with infinite joy did know each other) come to kiss the hands and feet of Daiphantus: Clitophon telling his father, how Daiphantus (not without danger to himself) had preserved him from the furious malice of the Helots: & even that day going to conclude the peace (left in his absence he might receive some hurt) he had taken him in his company, and given him armour, upon promise he should take the part of the Helots; which he had in this fight performed, little knowing that it was against his father: but (said Clitophon) here is he, who (as a father) hath new-begotten me, and (as a God) hath saved me from many deaths, which already laid hold on me: which Kalander with tears of joy acknowledged (besides his own deliverance) only his benefit. But Daiphantus, who loved doing well for itself, and not for thanks, broke of those ceremonies, desiring to know how Palladius (for so he called Musidorus) was come into that company, & what his present estate was: whereof receiving a brief declaration of Kalander, he sent him word by Clitophon, that he should not as now come unto, because he held himself not so sure a master of Helots' minds, that he would adventure him in their power, who was so well known with an unfriendly acquaintance; but that he desired him to return with Kalander, whither also he within few days (having dispatched himself of the Helots) would repair. Kalander would needs kiss his hand again for that promise, protesting, he would esteem his house more blessed than a temple of the gods, if it had once received him. And then desiring pardon for Argalus, Daiphantus assured them that he would die, but he would bring him, (though till then kept in close prison, indeed for his safetic, the Helots being so animàated against him as else he could not have lived) and so taking their leave of him, Kalander, Clitophon, Palladius and the rest of the Arcadians swearing that they would no further in any forte molest the Helots, they strait way marched out of the town, carrying both their dead and wounded bodies with them; and by morning were already within the limits of Arcadia.   

CHAP. 7.  
¹ The articles of peace between the Lacedæmonians & Helots, ² Daiphantus his departure from the Helots with Argalus to Kalander's house. ³ The offer of a strange Lady to Argalus ⁴ his refusal, and ⁵ who she was.  
THe Helots of the other side shutting their gates, gave themselves to bury their dead, to cure their wounds, and rest their wearied bodies: till (the next day bestowing the cheerful use of the light upon them) Daiphantus making a general canuocation spoke unto them in this manner. We are first (said he) to thank the Gods, that (further than we had either cause to hope; or reason to imagine) have delivered us out of this gulf of danger, wherein we were already swallowed. For all being lost, (had they had not directed, my return so just as they did) it had been too late to recover that, which being had, we could not keep. And had I not happened to know one of the principal men among them, by which means the truce began between us, you may easily conceive, what little reason we have to think, but that either by some supply out of Arcadia, or from the Nobility of this Country (who would have made fruits of wisdom grow out of this occasion,) we should have had our power turned to ruin, our pride to repentance and sorrow. But now the storm, as it fell out, so it ceased: and the error committed, in retaining Clitophon more hardly than his age or quarrel deserved, becomes a sharply learned experience, to use in other times more moderation.  
Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between argument key no. 1 the Kings with the Nobility of Lacedaemon, and you; which is in all points as yourselves desired: aswell for that you would have granted, as for the assurance of what is granted. The Towns and Forts you presently have, are still left unto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so as you altar not the laws of the Country, and pay such ducties as the rest of the Laconians do. Yourselves are made by public decree, free men, and so capable both to give and receive voice in election of Magistrates. The distinction of names between Helots and Lacedoemonians to be quite taken away, and all indifferently to enjoy both names and privileges of Laconians. Your children to be brought up with theirs in Spartan discipline: and so you (framing yourselves to be good members of that estate) to be hereafter fellows, and no longer servants. which conditions you see, carry in themselves no more contentation than assurance. For this is not a peace which is made with them, but this is a peace by which you are made of them. Lastly, a forgetfulness decreed of of all what is past, they showing themselves glad to have so valiant men as you are, joined with them: so that you are to take minds of peace, since the cause of war is finished; and as you hated them before like oppressors, so now to love them as brothers; to take care of their estate because it is yours, and to labour by virtuous doing, that the posterity may not repent your joining. But now one Article only they stood upon, which in the end I with your commissioners have agreed unto, that I should no more tarry here, mistaking perchance my humour, and thinking me as seditious as I am young, or else it is the king Amiclas procuring, in respect that it was my i'll hap to kill his nephew Eurileon; but how soever it be, I have condescended. But so will not we cried almost the whole assembly, counciling one an other, rather to try the uttermost event, then to lose him by whom they had been victorious. But he as well with general orations, as particular dealing with the men of most credit, made them thoroughly see how necessary it was to preferree such an opportunity before a vain affection; but yet could not prevail, till openly he swore, that he would (if at any time the Lacedoemonians broke this treaty) come back again, and be their captain.  
argument key no. 2 So then after a few days, settling them in perfect order, he took his leave of them, whose eyes bade him farewell with tears, & mouths with kissing the places where he stepped, and after making temples unto him as to a demi-God: thinking it beyond the degree of humanity to have a wit so far overgoing his age, and such dreadful terror proceed from so excellent beauty. But he for his sake obtained free pardon for Argalus, whom also (upon oath never to bear arms, against the Helots) he delivered; and taking only with him certain principal jewels of his own, he would have parted alone with Argalus, (whose countenance well showed, while Parthenia was lost he counted not himself delivered) but that the whole multitude would needs guard him into Arcadia. Where again, leaving the all to lament his departure, he by inquiry got to the wel-knowne house of Kalander: There was he received with loving joy of Kalander, with joyful love of Palladius, with humble (though doulful) demeanour of Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius regarded) with grateful seruisablenes of Clitophon, and honourable admiration of all. For being now well viewed to have no hair of his face, to witness him a man, who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, and to look with a certain almost bashful kind of modesty, as if he feared the eyes of men, who was unmoved with sight of the most horrible countenances of death; and as if nature had mistaken her work to have a Mars' heart in a Cupid's body: All that beheld him (and all that might behold him, did behold him) made their eyes quick messengers to their minds, that there they had seen the uttermost that in mankind might be seen. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but that Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten now the advantage in the moist & sickle impression of eyesight. But while all men (saving poor Argalus) made the joy of their eyes speak for their hearts towards Daiphantus: Fortune (that belike was bid to that banquet, & meant then to play the good fellow) brought a pleasant adventure among them.  
argument key no. 3 It was that as they had newly dined, there come in to Kalander a messenger, that brought him word, a young noble Lady, near kinswoman to the fair Helen Queen of Corinth; was come thither, and then desired to be lodged in his house. Kalander (most glad of such an occasion) went out, and all his other worthy guests with him, saving only Argalus, who remained in his chamber, desirous that this company were once broken up, that he might go in his solitary quest after Parthenia. But when they met this Lady; Kalander strength thought he saw his niece Parthenia, and was about in such familiar sort to have spoken unto her: But she in grave and honourable manner giving him to understand that he was mistaken, he half ashamed, excused himself with the exceeding likeness was between them, though indeed it seemed that his Lady was of the more pure and dainty complexion; she said, it might very well be, having been many times taken one for an other. But assoon as she was brought into the house, before she would rest her, she desired to speak with Argalus publicly, who she heard was in the house. Argalus come in hastily, and as hastily thought as Kalander had done, with sudden changes of joy into sorrow. But she when she had stayed their thoughts with telling them her name, and quality in this sort spoke unto him. My Lord Argalus, said she, being of late left in the court of Queen Helen of Corinth, as chief in her absence (she being upon some occasion go thence) there come unto me the Lady Parthenia, so disguised, as I think Greece hath nothing so ugly to behold. For my part, it was many days, before with vehement oaths, and some good proofs, she could make me think that she was Parthenia. Yet at last finding certainly it was she, and greatly pitying her misfortune, so much the more, as that all men had ever told me, (as now you do) of the great likeness between us, I took the best care I could of her: and of her understood the whole tragical history of her undeserved adventure: and therewithal, of that most noble constancy in you my Lord Argalus: which whosoever loves not, shows himself to be a hater of virtue, and unworthy to live in the society of mankind. But no outward cherishing could salve the inward fore of her mind, but a few days since she died: before her death earnestly desiring, and persuading me, to think of no husband but of you; as of the only man in the world worthy to be loved, withal, she gave me this Ring to deliver you; desiring you, & by the authority of love commanding you, that the affection you bore her you should turn to me: assuring you, that nothing can please her soul more, then to see you and me matched together. Now my L. though this office be not (perchance) suitable to my estate nor sex, who should rather look to be desired; yet, an extraordinary desert requires an extraordinary proceeding: and therefore I am come (with faithful love built upon your worthiness) to offer myself, & to beseech you to accept the offer: & if these noble gentlemen present will say it is great folly, let them withal, say it is great love. And then she stayed, earnestly attending Argalus his answer, who (first making most hearty sighs do such obsequies as he could, to Parthenia) thus answered her.  
argument key no. 4 Madame (said he) infinitely bound am I unto you, for this, no more rare, then noble courtesy; but most bound for the goodness I perceive you showed to the lady Parthenia, (with that the tears ran down his eyes; but he followed on) and as much as so unfortunat a man, sit to be the spectacle of misery, can do you service; determine you have made a purchase of a slave (while I live) never to sail you. But this great matter you propose unto me, wherein I am not so blind, as not to see what happiness it should be unto me; Excellent Lady, know, that if my heart were my to give, you before all other, should have it; but Parthenia's it is, though dead: there I began, there I end all matter of affection: I hope I shall not long tarry after her, with whose beauty if I had only been in love, I should be so with you, who have the same beauty: but it was Parthenia's self I loved, and love; which no likeness can make one, no commandment dissolve, no soulnes desile, nor no death finish. And shall I receive (said he) such disgrace, as to be refused? Noble Lady (said he) let not that hard word be used; who know your exceeding worthiness far beyond my desert: but it is only happiness I refuse, since of the only happiness I could and can desire, I am refused.  
argument key no. 5 He had scarce spoken those words, when she ran to him, and embracing him, Why then Argalus (said she) take thy Parthenia; and Parthenia it was in deed. But because sorrow forbade him too soon to believe, she told him the truth, with all circumstances; how being parted alone, meaning to die in some solitary place, as she happened to make her complaint, the Queen Helen of Corinth (who likewise felt her part of miseries) being then walking also alone in that lovely place, heard her, and never left, till she had known the whole discourse. Which the noble Queen greatly pitying, she sent her to a Physician of hers, the most excellent man in the world, in hope he could help her: which in such sort as they seen performed, and she taking with her of the Queen's servants, thought yet to make this trial, whither he would quickly forget his true Parthenia, or no. Her speech was confirmed by the Corinthian Gentlemen, who before had kept her counsel, and Argalus easily persuaded to what more than ten thousand years of life he desired: and Kalander would needs have the marriage celebrated in his house, principally the longer to hold his dear guests, towards whom he was now (besides his own habit of hospitality) carried with love and duty: & therefore omitted no service that his wit could invent, and his power minister.   

CHAP. 8.  
The adventures ¹ first of Musidorus, ² then of Pyrocles Since their shipwreck, to their meeting. ³ The marriage of Argalus and Parthenia.  
argument key no. 1 But no way he saw he could so much pleasure them, as by leaving the two friends alone, who being shrunk aside to the banqueting house where the pictures were; there Palladius recounted unto him, that after they had both abandoned the burning ship (& either, of them taken some thing under him the better to support him to the shore) he knew not how, but either with overlabouring in the fight and sudden cold, or the too much receiving of salt water, he was passed himself: but yet holding fast (as the nature of dying men is to do) the chest that was under him, he was cast on the sands, where he was taken up by a couple of Shepherds, and by them brought to life again, and kept from drowning himself, when he despaired of his safety. How after having failed to take him into the fisher boat, he had by the 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 Clitophons' taking had so blessedly procured their meeting. Then did he set forth unto him the noble entertainment and careful cherishing of Kalander towards him, & so upon occasion of the pictures present delivered with the frankness of a friends tongue, as near as he could, 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.  
argument key no. 2 But first at Musidorus 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 leapt into the Sea, and swom a little toward the shore, I found by reason of some wounds I had, that I should not be able to get the land, and therefore turned back again to the mast of the ship, where you found me, assuring myself, that if you come alive to the 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 an other. 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 it 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. Among whom I might hear them greatly praise one young man, who fought most valiantly, whom (as love is careful, and misfortune subject to doubtfulness) I thought certainly to be you. And so holding you as dead, from that time till 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 come 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 fight: 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, & we were all taken prisoners: I not caring much what becamè 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 kill all of the gentle and rich faction, for honesty sake broke 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 in few days, that they barbarouslie thinking unsensible wonders of me, and with all so much they better trusting me, as they heard I was hated of the King of Lacedoemon, (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 all so 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 my as being taken first by the pirates, and then by the Lacedoemonians, 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 Lacedoemon 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 travail 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 argument key no. 3 Argalus and the fair Parthenia being to be celebrated, Daiphantus and Palladius 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 daintic devices so much delight, as the fairness of Parthenia, the pearl of all the maids of Mantinoea: who as she went to the Temple to be married, her eyes themselves seemed a temple, wherein love and beauty were married: her lips, although 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, bore show as if the vanguard failed, yet that would conquer. Daiphantus marking her, OH jupiter (said 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.   

CHAP. 9  
¹ Pyrocles his inclination to love. ² His, and Musidorus disputation thereabouts ³ broken of by Kalander.  
argument key no. 1 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 spoke unto him: even the colour and figure of his face began to receive some alteration; which he showed 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, & long knowledge able to mark; & therefore being now grown weary of his abode in Arcadia, having informed himself fully of the strength & riches of the country, of the nature of the people, and manner of their laws: and, sing the court could not be visited, prohibited to all men, but to certain sheapheardish people, he greatly desired a speedy return to his own country, after the many mazes offortune 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 argument key no. 2 sweet and worthy cousin) doth not easily change any course it once undertakes, but upon well grounded & well weighed causes. For being witness to itself of his 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 show 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 in deed 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, & a slacking of the main career, you had so notably begun, & 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 of 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 come, 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 a sleep: 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 mind was all this while so fixed upon another devotion, that he no more attentively marked his friends 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 attended the unskilful words of a passenger: yet the very sound having imprinted the general point 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 shamefast look (witnessing he rather could not help, then 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 judgement partial, nor you could have loved me so intierlie, if you had not been apt to make so great (though undeserved) judgements of me; and even so must I say to those imperfections, to which though I have ever through weakness been 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 betring. And yet under the leave of your better judgement, I must needs say thus much, my dear cousin, that I found 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 whither 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 work of the mind I find much more infinite, then can be led unto by the eye, or imagined by any, that distracted their thoughts without themselves. And in such contemplation, or as I think more excellent, I enjoy my solitariness; and my solitariness perchance is the nurse of these contemplations. Eagles we see fly alone; and they are but sheep, which always heard together; condemn not therefore my mind sometime to enjoy itself; nor blame not the taking of such times as serve most fit for it. And alas, dear Musidorus, if I be sad, who knows better than you the just causes I have of sadness? And here Pyrocles suddenly stopped, like a man unsatisfied in himself, though his wit might well have served to have satisfied another. And so looking with a countenance, as though he desired he should know his mind without hearing him speak, and yet desirous to speak, to breathe out some part of his inward evil, sending again new blood to his face, he continued his speech in this manner. And Lord (dear cousin, said he) doth not the pleasantness of this place carry in itself sufficient reward for any time lost in it? Do you not see how all things conspire together to make this country a heavenly dwelling? Do you not see the grass how in colour they excel the Emeralds, every one striving to pass his fellow, and yet they are all kept of an equal height? And see you not the rest of these beautiful flowers, each of which would require a man's wit to know, and his life to express? Do not these stately trees seem to maintain their flourishing old age with the only happiness of their seat, being clothed with a continual spring, because no beauty here should ever fade? Doth not the air breath health, which the Birds (delightful both to ear and eye) do daily solemnize with the sweet consent of their voices? Is not every echo thereof a perfect Music? and these fresh and delightful brooks how slowly they slide away, as loathe to leave the company of so many things united in perfection? and with how sweet a murmur they lament their forced departure? Certainly, certainly, cousin, it must needs be that some Goddess enhabiteth this Region, who is the soul of this soil: for neither is any, less than a Goddess, worthy to be shrined in such a heap of pleasures: nor any less than a Goddess, could have made it so perfect a plot of the celestial dwellings. And so ended with a deep sigh, ruefully casting his eye upon Musidorus, as more desirous of pity than pleading. But Musidorus had all this while held his look fixed upon Pyrocles countenance; and with no less loving attention marked how his words proceeded from him: but in both these he perceived such strange diversities, that they rather increased new doubts, then gave him ground to settle any judgement: for, besides his eyes sometimes even great with tears, the often changing of his colour, with a kind of shaking unstayednes over all his body, he might see in his countenance some great determination mixed with fear; and might perceive in him store of thoughts, rather stirred then digested; his words interrupted continually with sighs (which served as a burden to each sentence) and the tenor of his speech (though of his wont phrase) not knit together to one constant end, but rather dissolved in itself, as the vehemency of the inward passion prevailed: which made Musidorus frame his answer nearest to that humour, which should soonest put out the secret. For, having in the beginning of Pyrocles speech which defended his solitariness, framed in his mind a reply against it, in the praise of honourable action, in showing that such a kind of contemplation is but a glorious title to idleness; that in action a man did not only better himself, but benefit others; that the gods would not have delivered a soul into the body, which hath arms & legs, only instruments of doing, but that it were intended the mind should employ them; & that the mind should best know his own good or evil, by practice: which knowledge was the only way to increase the one, and correct the other: besides many other arguments, which the plentifulness of the matter yielded to the sharpness of his wit. When he found Pyrocles leave that, and fall into such an affected praising of the place, he left it likewise, and joined with him therein: because he found him in that humour utter more store of passion; and even thus kindly embracing him, he said: Your words are such (noble cousin) so sweetly and strongly handled in the praise of solitariness, as they would make me likewise yield myself up into it, but that the same words make me know, it is more pleasant to enjoy the company of him that can speak such words, then by such words to be persuaded to follow solitariness. And even so do I give you leave (sweet Pyrocles) ever to defend solitariness; so long, as to defend it, you ever keep company. But I marvel at the excessive praises you give to this country; in truth it is not unpleasant: but yet if you would return into Macedon, you should see either many heavens, or found this no more than earthly. And even Tempe in my Thessalia, (where you & I to my great happiness were brought up together) is nothing inferior unto it. But I think you will make me see, that the vigour of your wit can show itself in any subject: or else you feed sometimes your solitariness with the conceits of the Poets, whose liberal pens can as easily travail over mountains, as molehills: and so like well disposed men, set up every thing to the highest note; especially, when they put such words in the mouths of one of these fantastical mind-infected people, that children & musicans call Lovers. This word, Lover, did no less pierce poor Pyrocles, than the right tune of music toucheth him that is sick of the Tarantula. There was not one part of his body, that did not feel a sudden motion, while his heart with panting, seemed to dance to the sound of that word; yet after some pause (lifting up his eyes a little from the ground, and yet not daring to place them in the eyes of Musidorus) armed with the very countenance of the poor prisoner at the bar, whose answer is nothing but guilty: with much a do he brought forth this question. And alas, said he, dear cousin, what if I be not so much the Poet (the freedom of whose pen can exercise itself in any thing) as even that miserable subject of his cunning, whereof you speak? Now the eternal Gods forbidden (mainly cried out Musidorus) that ever my ear should be poisoned with so evil news of you. OH let me never know that any base affection should get any Lordship in your thoughts. But as he was speaking more, Kalander argument key no. 3 come, and broke of their discourse, with inviting them to the hunting of a goodly stag, which being harboured in a wood thereby, he hoped would make them good sport, and drive away some part of Daiphantus melancholy. They condescended, & so going to their lodgings, furnished themselves as liked them Daiphantus writing a few words which he left in a sealed letter against their return.   

CHAP. 10.  
¹ Kalander's hunting. ² Daiphantus his close departure, ³ and letter ⁴ Palladius his care, and ⁵ quest after him, ⁶ accompanied with Clitophon. ⁷ His finding and taking on Amphilus his armour ⁸ Their encounter with Queen Helen's attendants. ⁹ Her mistaking Palladius.  
THen went they together abroad, the good Kalander argument key no. 1 entertaining them, with pleasant discoursing, how well he loved the sport of hunting when he was a young man, how much in the comparison thereof he disdained all chamber delights; that the Sun (how great a journey soever he had to make) could never prevent him with earliness, nor the Moon (with her sober countenance) dissuade him from watching till midnight for the deer's feeding. OH, said he, you will never live to my age, without you keep yourselves in breath with exercise, and in heart with joyfulness: too much thinking doth consume the spirits: & often it falls out, that while one thinks too much of his doing, he leaves to do the effect of his thinking. Than spared he not to remember how much Arcadia was changed since his youth: activity & good fellowship being nothing in the price it was then held in, but according to the nature of the old growing world, still worse & worse. Then would he tell them stories of such galaunts as he had known: and so with pleasant company beguiled the times hast, and shortened the ways length, till they come to the side of the wood, where the hounds were in couples staying their coming, but with a whining Accent craving liberty: many of them in colour and marks so resembling, that it showed they were of one kind. The huntsmen handsomely attired in their green liucries, as though they were children of Summer, with staves in their hands to beaten the guiltless earth, when the hounds were at a fault, and with horns about their necks to sound an alarm upon a silly fugitive. The hounds were strait uncoupled, and ere long the Stag thought it better to trust the nimbleness of his feet, then to the slender fortification of his lodging: but even his feet betrayed him; for howsoever they went, they themselves uttered themselves to the sent of their enemies; who one taking it of an other, and sometimes believing the winds advertisements, sometimes the view of (their faithful councillors) the huntsmen, with open mouths then denounced war, when the war was already begun. Their cry being composed of so well sorted mouths, that any man would perceive therein some kind of proportion but the skilful woodmen did find a music. Than delight and variety of opinion drew the horsemen sundry ways; yet cheering their hounds with voice and horn, kept still (as it were) together. The wood seemed to conspire with them against his own citizens, dispersing their noise through all his quarters; and even the Nymph Echo left to bewail the loss of Narcissus, and become a hunter. But the Stag was in the end so hotly pursued, that (leaving his flight) he was driven to make courage of despair; & so turning his head, made the hounds (with change of speech) to testify that he was at bay: as if from hot pursuit of their enemy, they were suddenly come to a parley.  
But Kalander (by his skill of coasting the Country) was among the first that come in to the besieged Deer; whom when some of the younger sort would have killed with their sword, he would not suffer: but with a Crossbow sent a death to the poor beast, who with tears showed the unkindness he took of man's cruelty.  
But by the time that the whole company was assembled, argument key no. 2 and that the Stag had bestowed himself liberally among them that had killed him, Daiphantus was missed, for whom Palladius carefully inquiring, no news could be given him, but by one that said, he thought he was returned home; for that he marked him, in the chief of the hunting, take a by-way, which might led to Kalander's house. That answer for the time satisfying, and they having performed all duties, as well for the stags funeral, as the hounds triumph, they returned: some talking of the fatness of the Deer's body; some of the fairness of his head; some of the hounds cunning; some of their speed; and some of their cry: till coming home (about the time that the candle gins to inherit the Sun's office) they found Daiphantus was not to be found. Whereat Palladius greatly marveling, and a day or two passing, while neither search nor inquiry could help him to knowledge, at last he lighted upon the letter, which Pyrocles had written before he went a hunting, and left in his study among other of his write. The letter was directed to Palladius himself, and contained these words.  
argument key no. 3 My only friend, violence of love leads me into such a course, whereof your knowledge may much more vex you, then help me. Therefore pardon my concealing it from you, since: if I wrong you, it is in respect I bear you. Return into Thessalia, I pray you, as full of good fortune, as I am of desire: and if I live, I will in short time follow you; if I die, love my memory.  
argument key no. 4 This was all, and this Palladius read twice or thrice over. Ah (said he) Pyrocles, what means this alteration? what have I deserved of thee, to be thus banished of thy counsels? Hereto fore I have accused the sea, condemned the Pirates, and hated my evil fortune, that deprived me of thee; But now thyself is the sea, which drounes my comfort, thyself is the Pirate that robs thyself of me: Thy own will becomes my evil fortune. Then turned he his thoughts to all forms of guesses that might light upon the purpose and course of Pyrocles: for he was not so sure by his words, that it was love, as he was doubtful where the love was. One time he thought, some beauty in Laconia had laid hold of his eyes; an other time he feared, that it might be Parthenia's excellency, which had broken the bands of all former resolution. But the more he thought, the more he knew not what to think, armies of objections rising against any accepted opinion.  
Than as careful he was what to do himself: at length determined, argument key no. 5 never to leave seeking him, till his search should be either by meeting accomplished, or by death ended. Therefore (for all the unkindness bearing tender respect, that his friends secret determination should be kept from any suspicion in others) he went to Kalander, and told him, that he had received a message from his friend, by which he understood he was go back again into Laconia, about some matters greatly importing the poor men, whose protection he had undertaken, and that it was in any forte fit for him, to follow him, but in such private wise, as not to be known, and that therefore he would as then bid him farewell: arming himself in a black armour, as either a badge, or prognostication of his mind: and taking only with him good store of money, and a few choice jewels, leaving the greatest number of them, & most of his apparel with Kalander: which he did partly to give the more cause to Kalander to expect their return, & so to be the less curiously inquisitive after them: and partly to leave those honourable thanks unto him, for his charge & kindness, which he knew he would no other way receive. The good old man having neither reason to dissuade, nor hope to persuade, received the things, with mind of a keeper, not of an owner; but before he went, desired he might have the happiness, fully to know what they were: which he said, he had ever till then delayed, fearing to be any way importune: but now he could not be so much an enemy to his desires as any longer to imprison than in silence. Palladius told him that the matter was not so secret, but that so worthy a friend deserved the knowledge, and should have it as soon as he might speak with his friend: without whose consent (because their promise bound him otherwise) he could not reveal it: but bade him hold for most assured, that if they lived but a while, he should found that they which bore the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, would give him & his cause to think his noble courtesy well employed. Kalander would press him no further: but desiring that he might have leave to go, or at lest to send his son and servants with him, Palladius broke of all ceremonies, by telling him; his case stood so, that his greatest favour should be in making jest ado of his parting. Wherewith Kalander knowing it to be more cumber than courtesy, tostrive, abstained from further urging him, but not from hearty mourning the loss of so sweet a conversation.  
argument key no. 6 Only Clitophon by vehement in portunitie obtained to go with him, to come again to Daiphantus, whom he named and accounted his Lord. And in such private guise departed Palladius, though having a companion to talk with all, yet talking much more with unkindness. And first they went to Mantinaea; whereof because Parthenia was, he suspected there might be some cause of his abode. But finding there no news of him he went to Tegaea, Ripa, Enispae, Stimphalus, and Pheneus, famous for the poisonous Stygian water, and through all the rest of Arcadia, making their eyes, their ears, and their tongue serve almost for nothing, but that inquire. But they could know nothing but that in noon of those places he was known. And so went they, making one place succeed to an other, in like uncertainty to their search, many times encountering strange adventures, worthy to be registered in the roulles of fame; but this may not be omitted. As they passed in a pleasant valley, (of either side of which high hills lifted argument key no. 7 up their beetle-brows, as if they would over look the pleasantness of their under-prospect) they were by the daintiness of the place, & the weariness of themselves, invited to light from their horses; & pulling of their bits, that they might something refresh their mouths upon the grass (which plentifully grew, brought up under the care of those well shading trees,) they themselves laid them down hard by the murmuring music of certain waters, which spouted out of the side of the hills, and in the bottom of the valley, made of many springs a pretty brook, like a commonwealth of many families: but when they had a while hearkened to the persuasion of sleep, they rose, and walked onward in that shady place, till Clitiphon espied a piece of armour, & not far of an other piece: and so the sight of one piece teaching him to look for more, he at length found all, with headpiece & shield, by the devise whereof, which was 〈…〉 he strength knew it to be the armour of his cousin, the noble Amphialus. Whereupon (fearing some inconvenience happened unto him) he told both his doubt, and his cause of doubt to Palladius, who (considering thereof) thought best to make no longer stay, but to follow on: lest perchance some violence were offered to so worthy a Knight, whom the fame of the world seemed to set in balance with any Knight living. Yet with a sudden conceit, having long borne great honour to the name of Amphialus, Palladius thought best to take that armour, thinking thereby to learn by them that should know that armour, some news of Amphialus, & yet not hinder him in the search of Daiphantus too. So he by the help of Clitophon quickly put on that armour, where of there was no one piece wanting, though hacked in some places, bewraying some fight not long since passed. It was something too great, but yet served well enough.  
argument key no. 8 And so getting on their horses, they travailed but a little way, when in opening of the mouth of the valley into a fair field, they met with a coach drawn with four milk-white horses, furnished all in black, with a black a more boy upon every horse, they all appareled in white, the coach itself very richly furnished in black & white. But before they could come so near as to discern what was within, there come running upon them above a dozen horsemen, who cried to them to yield themselves prisoners, or else they should die. But Palladius not accustomed to grant over the possession of himself upon so unjust titles, with sword drawn gave them so rude an answer, that divers of them never had breath to reply again: for being well backed by Clitophon, & having an excellent horse under him, when he was overpress by some, he avoided them, and ere th'other thought of it, punished in him his fellows faults: and so, either with cunning or with force, or rather with a cunning force, left noon of them either living, or able to make his life serve to others hurt. Which being done, he approached the coach, assuring the black boys they should have no hurt, who were else ready to have run away, & looking into the coach, he found in the one end a Lady of great beauty, & such a beauty, as showed forth the beams both of wisdom & good nature, but all as much darkened, as might be, with sorrow. In the other, two Ladies, (who by their demeanour showed well, they were but her servants) holding before them a picture; in which was a goodly Gentleman (whom he knew not) painted, having in their faces a certain waiting sorrow, their eyes being infected with their mistress weeping.  
But the chief Lady having not so much as once argument key no. 9 heard the noise of this conflict (so had sorrow closed upal the entries of her mind, & love tied her fences to that beloved picture) now the shadow of him falling upon the picture made her cast up her eye, and seeing the armour which too well she knew, thinking him to be Amphialus the Lord of her desires, (blood coming more freely into her cheeks, as though it would be bold, & yet there growing new again pale for fear) with a pitiful look (like one unjustly condemned) My Lord Amphialus (said she) you have enough punished me: it is time for cruelty to leave you, & evil fortune me; if not I pray you, (& to grant, my prayer fit time nor place you can have) accomplish the one even now, & finish the other. With that, sorrow impatient to be slowly uttered in her often staying speeches, poured itself so sast in tears, that Palladius could not hold her longer in error, but pulling of his helmet, Madam (said he) I perceive you mistake me: I am a stranger in these parts, set upon (without any cause given by me) by some of your servants, whom because I have in my just defence evil entreated, I come to make my excuse to you, whom sing such as I do, I found greater cause, why I should crave pardon of you. When she seen his face, & heard his speech, she looked out of the coach, and sing her men, some slain, some lying under their dead horses, and striving to get from under them, without making more account of the matter, Truly (said she) they are well served that durst lift up their arms against that armour. But Sir Knight, (said she) I pray you tell me, how come you by this armour? for if it be by the death of him that owed it, then have I more to say unto you. Palladius assured her it was not so; telling her the true manner how he found it. It is like enough (said she) for that agrees with the manner he hath lately used. But I beseech you Sir (said she) since your prows hath bereft me of my company: let it yet so far heal the wounds itself hath given, as to guard me to the next town. How great so ever my business be fair Lady (said he) it shall willingly yield to so noble a cause: But first even by the favour you bear to the Lord of this noble armour, I conjure you to tell me the story of your fortune herein, jest hereafter when the image of so excellent a Lady in so strange a plight come before my eyes, I condemn myself of want of consideration in not having demanded thus much. Neither ask I it without protestation, that wherein my sword and faith may avail you, they shall bind themselves to your service. Your conjuration, fair Knight (said she) is too strong for my poor spirit to disobey, and that shall make me (without any other hope, my ruin being but by one unrelieveable) to grant your will herein: and to say the truth, a strange niceness were it in me to refrain that from the ears of a person representing so much worthiness, which I am glad even to rocks and woods to utter.   

CHAP. 11.  
¹ The story of Queen Helen ² Philoxenus her suitor ³ Amphialus an intercessor for his friend. ⁴ His praises, ⁵ birth, and ⁶ education. ⁷ Her love won to himself ⁸ His refusal and departure ⁹ Philoxenus wronge-rage against him. ¹⁰ Their fight. ¹¹ The death of son and father. ¹² Amphialus his sorrow and detestation of the Queen. ¹³ A new onset on Palladius for Amphialus his Armour: ¹⁴ whose grief is amplified by meeting his dead friends dog. ¹⁵ Palladius his parting with Helen and Clitophon.  
KNow you then that my name is Helen, argument key no. 1 Queen by birth: and hitherto possession of the fair City and territory of Corinth. I can say no more of myself, but beloved of my people: and may justly say, beloved, since they are content to bear with my absence, and folly. But I being left by my father's death, and accepted by my people, in the highest degree, that country could receive; assoon, or rather, before that my age was ripe for it; my court quickly swarmed full of suitors; some perchance loving my state, others my person, but once I know all of them, howsoever my possessions were in their hearts, my beauty (such as it is) was in their mouths; many strangers of princely and noble blood, and all of my own country, to whom either birth or virtue gave courage to avow so high a desire.  
argument key no. 2 Among the rest, or rather before the rest, was the Lord Philoxenus, son and heir to the virtuous noble man Timotheus: which Timotheus was a man both in power, riches, parentage, and (which passed all these) goodness, and (which followed all these) love of the people, beyond any of the great men of my country. Now this son of his I must say truly, not unworthy of such a father, bending himself by all means of seruiseablenes to me, and setting forth of himself to win my favour, won thus far of me, that in truth I less misliked him then any of the rest: which in some proportion my countenance delivered unto him. Though I must protest it was a very false ambassador, if it delivered at all any affection, where of my heart was utterly voided, I as then esteeming myself borne to rule, & thinking soul scorn willingly to submit myself to be ruled.  
argument key no. 3 But whiles Philoxenus in good forte pursued my favour, and perchance nourished himself with over much hope, because he found I did in some sort acknowledge his value, one time among the rest he brought with him a dear friend of his. With that she looked upon the picture before her, & strait sighted, & strait tears followed, as if the Idol of duty aught to be honoured with such oblations, and then her speech stayed the tale, having brought her to that look, but that look having quite put her out of her tale. But Palladius greatly pitying so sweet a sorrow in a Lady, whom by fame he had already known, and honoured, besought her for her promise sake, to put silence so long unto her moaning, till she had recounted the rest of this story.  
argument key no. 4 Why said she, this is the picture of Amphialus: what need I say more to you? what ear is so barbarous but hath hard of Amphialus? who follows deeds of Arms, but every where finds monument of Amphialus? who is courteous, noble, liberal, but he that hath the example before his eyes of Amphialus? where are all heroical parts, but in Amphialus? OH Amphialus I would thou were not so excellent, or I would I thought thee not so excellent, and yet would I not, that I would so: with that she wept again, till he again folliciting the conclusion of her story. Than must you (said she) know the story of Amphialus: for his will is my life, his life my history: and indeed, in what can I better employ my lips, then in speaking of Amphialus?  
This knight then whose figure you see, argument key no. 5 but whose mind can be painted by nothing, but by the true shape of virtue, is brother's son to Basilius King of Arcadia, and in his childhood esteemed his heir: till Basilius in his old years marrying a young and a fair Lady, had of her those two daughters, so famous for their perfection in beauty: which put by their young cousin from that expectation. Whereupon his mother (a woman of a haughty heart, being daughter to the King of Argos, either disdaining, or fearing, that her son should live under the power of Basilius sent him to that Lord Timotheus (between whom and her dead husband there had passed strength bands of mutual hospitality to be brought up in company with his son Philoxenus?  
A happy resolution for Amphialus, argument key no. 6 whose excellent nature was by this means trained on with as good education, as any Prince's son in the world could have, which otherwise it is thought his mother (far unworthy of such a son) would not have given him. The good Timotheus) no less loving him then his own son: well they grew in years; and shortly occasions fell aptly to try Amphialus, and all occasions were but steps for him to climb same by. Nothing was so hard, but his valour overcame: which yet still he so guided with true virtue, that although no man was in our parts spoken of but he, for his manhood, yet, as though therein he excelled himself, he was commonly called the courteous Amphialus. An endless thing it were for me to tell, how many adventures (terrible to be spoken of) he achieved: what monsters, what Giants, what conquest of countries: sometimes using policy, sometimes source, but always virtue, well followed, and but followed by Philoxenus: between whom, and him, so fast a friendship by education was knit, that at last Philoxenus having no greater matter to employ his friendship in, then to win me, therein desired, and had this uttermost furtherance: to that purpose brought he him to my court, where truly I may justly witness with him, that what his wit could conceive (and his wit can conceive as far as the limits of reason stretch) was all directed to the setting forward the svite of his friend Philoxenus: my ears could hear nothing from him, but touching the worthiness of Philoxenus, and of the great happiness it would be unto me to have such a husband: with many arguments, which God knows, I cannot well remember because I did not much believe.  
argument key no. 7 For why should I use many circumstances to come to that where already I am, and ever while I live must continued? In few words, while he pleaded for an other, he wan me for himself: if at lest (with that she sighed) he would accounted it a winning, for his fame had so framed the way to my mind, that his presence so full of beauty, sweetness, and noble conversation, had entered there before he vouchsafed to call for the keys. OH Lord, how did my soul hung at his lips while he spoke! OH when he in feeling manner would describe the love of his friend, how well (thought I) doth love between those lips! when he would with daintiest eloquence stir pity in me toward Philoxenus, why sure (said I to myself) Helen, be not afraid, this heart cannot want pity: and when he would extol the deeds of Philoxenus, who indeed had but waited of him therein, alas (thought I) good Philoxenus, how evil doth it become thy name to be subscribed to his letter? What should I say? nay, what should I not say (noble knight) who am not ashamed, nay am delighted, thus to express my own passions?  
days paste; his eagerness for his friend never decreased, argument key no. 8 my affection to him ever increased. At length, in way of ordinary courtesy, I obtained of him (who suspected no such matter) this his picture, the only Amphialus, I fear that I shall ever enjoy: and grown bolder, or madder, or bold with madness, I discovered my affection unto him. But, Lord, I shall never forget, how anger and courtesy, at one instant appeared in his eyes, when he heard that motion: how with his blush he taught me shame. In sum, he left nothing unassayed, which might disgrace himself, to grace his friend; in sweet terms making me receive a most resolute refusal of himself. But when he found that his presence did far more persuade for himself, than his speech could do for his friend, he left my court: hoping, that forgetfulness (which commonly waits upon absence) would make room for his friend: to whom he would not utter thus much (I think) for a kind fear not to grieve him, or perchance (though he cares little for me) of a certain honourable gratefulness, nor yet to discourse so much of my secrets: but as it should seem, meant to travel into far countries, until his friend's affection either ceased, or prevailed.  
argument key no. 9 But within a while, Philoxenus come to see how onward the fruits were of his friends labour, when (as in truth I cared not much how he took it) he found me sitting, beholding this picture, I know not with how affectionate countenance, but I am sure with a most affectionate mind. I strait found jealousy and disdain took hold of him: and yet the froward pain of my own heart made me so delight to punish him, whom I esteemed the chiefest let in my way; that when he with humble gesture, and vehement speeches, sued for my favour; I told him, that I would hear him more willingly, if he would speak for Amphialus, as well as Amphialus had done for him: he never answered me, but pale and quaking, went strait away; and strait my heart misgave me some evil success: and yet though I had authority enough to have stayed him (as in these fatal things it falls out, that the hie-working powers make second causes unwittingly accessary to their determinations) I did no further but sent a footman of my (whose faithfulness to me I well knew) from place to place to follow him, and bring me word of his proceed: which (alas) have brought forth that which I fear I must ever rue.  
argument key no. 10 For he had travailed scarce a days journey out of my Country, but that (not far from this place) he overtook Amphialus, who (by succouring a distressed Lady) had been here stayed: and by and by called him to fight with him, protesting that one of them two should die: you may easily judge how strange it was to Amphialus, whose heart could accuse itself of no fault, but too much affection toward him, which he (refusing to fight with him) would feign have made Philoxenus understand, but (as my servant since told me) the more Amphialus went back, the more he followed, calling him Traitor, and coward, yet never telling the cause of this strange alteration. Ah Philoxenus (said Amphialus) I know I am no Traitor, and thou well knowest I am no coward: but I pray thee content thyself with this much, and let this satisfy thee, that I love thee, since I bear thus much of thee, but he leaving words drew his sword, and gave Amphialus a great blow or two, which but for the goodness of his armour would have slain him: and yet so far did Amphialus contain himself, stepping aside, and saying to him, Well Philoxenus, and thus much villainy am I content to put up, not any longer for thy sake (whom I have no cause to love, since thou dost injure me, and wilt not tell me the cause) but for thy virtuous father's sake, to whom I am so much bound. I pray thee go away, and conquer thy own passions, and thou shalt make mesoone yield to be thy servant.  
But he would not attended his words, but still struck so fiercely at Amphialus, that in the end (nature prevailing above determination) he was feign to defend himself, and withal to offend him, that by an unlucky blow the poor Philoxenus fell dead at his feet; having had time only to speak some words, whereby Amphialus knew it was for my sake: which when Amphialus saw, he forthwith gave such tokens of true felt sorrow; that as my servant said, no imagination could conceive greater woe. But that by and by, an unhappy occasion made Amphialus pass himself in sorrow: for Philoxenus was but newly dead, when there comes to the same place, the aged and virtuous Timotheus, who (having heard of his sons so deign and passionate manner of parting from my Court) had followed him as speedily as he could; but alas not so speedily, but that he found him dead before he could over take him. Thought my heart be nothing but a stage for Tragedies; yet I must confess, it is even unable to bear the miserable representation thereof: knowing Amphialus and Timotheus as I have done. Alas what sorrow, what amazement, what shame was in Amphialus, when he seen his dear foster father, found him the killer of his only son? argument key no. 11 In my heart I know, he wished mountains had lain upon him, to keep him from that meeting. As for Timotheus, sorrow of his son and (I think principally) unkindness of Amphialus so devoured his vital spirits that able to say no more but Amphialus, Amphialus, have I? he sank to the earth, and presently died.  
argument key no. 12 But not my tongue though daily used to complaints; not nor if my heart (which is nothing but sorrow) were turned to tongues, durst it under-take to show the unspeakeablenes of his grief. But (because this serves to make you know my fortune,) he threw away his armour, even this which you have now upon you, which at the first fight I vainly hoped, he had put on again; and then (as ashamed of the light) he ran into the thickest of the woods, lamenting, & even crying out so pityfully, that my servant, (though of a fortune not used to much tenderness) could not refrain weeping when he told it me. He once overtook him, but Amphialus drawing his sword, which was the only part of his arms (God knows to what purpose) he carried about him, threatened to kill him if he followed him, and withal, bade him deliver this bitter message, that he well enough found, I was the cause of all this mischief: & that if I were a man, he would go over the world to kill me: but bade me assure myself, that of all creatures in the world, he most hated me. Ah Sir knight (whose ears I think by this time are tired with the rugged ways of these misfortunes) now way my case, if at jest you know what love is. For this cause have I left my country, putting in hazard how my people will in time deal by me, adventuring what perils or dishonours might ensue, only to follow him, who proclaimeth hate against me, and to bring my neck unto him, if that may redeem my trespass & assuage his fury. And now sir (said she) you have your request, I pray you take pains to guide me to the next town, that there I may gather such of my company again, as your valour hath left me. Palladius willingly condescended: but ere they began to go, there came Clitophon, who having been something hurt by one of them, had pursued him a good way: at length overtaking him, & ready to kill him, understood they were servants to the fair Queen Helen, and that the cause of this enterprise was for nothing, but to make Amphialus prisoner, whom they knew their mistress sought; for she concealed her sorrow, nor cause of her sorrow from no body.  
But Clitophon (very sorry for this accident) come back argument key no. 13 to comfort the Queen, helping such as were hurt, in the best sort that he could, & framing friendly constructions of this rashly undertaken enmity, when in comes another (till that time unseen) all armed, with his beaver down, who first looking round about upon the company, as soon as he spied Palladius, he drew his sword, and making no other prologue, let fly at him. But Palladius (sorry for so much harm as had already happened) sought rather to retire, and ward, thinking he might be some one that belonged to the fair Queen, whose case in his heart he pitied. Which Clitophon seeing, stepped between them, ask the new come knight the cause of his quarrel; who answered him, that he would kill that these, who had stolen away his master's armour, if he did not restore it. With that Palladius looked upon him, and saw that he of the other side had Palladius own armour upon him: truly (said Palladius) if I have stolen this armour, you did not buy that: but you shall not fight with me upon such a quarrel, you shall have this armour willingly, which I did only put on to do honour to the owner. But Clitophon strait knew by his words and voice, that it was Ismenus, the faithful & diligent Page of Amphialus: and therefore telling him that he was Clitophon, and willing him to acknowledge his error to the other, who deserved all honour, the young Gentleman pulled of his headpiece, and (lighting) went to kiss Palladius hands; desiring him to pardon his folly, caused by extreme grief, which easily might bring forth anger. Sweet Gentleman (said Palladius) you shall only make me this amendss, that you shall carry this your Lord's armour from me to him, and tell him from an unknown knight (who admires his worthiness) that he cannot cast a greater mist over his glory, than by being unkind to so excellent a princess as this Queen is. Ismenus promised he would, as soon as he durst found his master: and with that went to do his duty to the Queen, whom in all these encounters astonishment made hardy; but assoon as she seen Ismenus (looking to her picture) Ismenus (said she) here is my Lord, where is yours? or come you to bring me some sentence of death from him? if it be so, welcome be it. I pray you speak; and speak quickly. Alas Madam, said Ismenus, I have lost my Lord, (with that tears come unto his eyes) for assoon as the unhappy combat was concluded with the death both of father and son, my master casting of his armour, went his way: forbidding me upon pain of death to follow him.  
Yet divers days I followed his steps; argument key no. 14 till lastly I found him, having newly met with an excellent Spaniel, belonging to his dead companion Philoxenus. The dog strength fawned on my master for old knowledge: but never was there thing more pitiful then to hear my master blame the dog for loving his masters murderer, renewing a fresh his complaints, with the dumb counsellor, as if they might comfort one another in their miseries. But my Lord having spied me, raze up in such rage, that in truth I feared he would kill me: yet as then he said only, if I would not displease him, I should not come near him till he sent for me: too hard a commandment for me to disobey: I yielded, leaving him only waited on by his dog, and as I think seeking out the most solitary places, that this or any other country can grant him: and I returning where I had left his armour, found an other in steed thereof, & (disdaining I must confess that any should bear the armour of the best Knight living) armed myself therein to play the fool, as even now I did. Fair Ismenus (said the Queen) a sitter messenger could hardly be to unfold my Tragedy: I see the end, I see my end.  
argument key no. 15 With that (sobbing) she desired to be conducted to the next town, where Palladius left her to be waited on by Clitophon, at Palladius earnest entreaty, who desired alone to take that melancholy course of seeking his friend: & therefore changing armours again with Ismenus (who went withal to a castle belonging to his master) he continued his quest for his friend Daiphantus.   

CHAP. 12.  
¹ Palladius after long search of Daiphantus, lighteth on an Amazon Lady. ² Her habit, ³ song, ⁴ and who she was. ⁵ Objections of the one against women, and love of them. ⁶ The answers of the other for them both. ⁷ Their passionate conclusion in relenting kindness.  
argument key no. 1 SO directed he his course to Laconia, aswell among the Helots, as Spartans'. There indeed he found his fame flourishing, his monument engraved in Marble, and yet more durable in men's memories; but the universal lamenting his absented presence, assured him of his present absence. Thence into the Elean province, to see whither at the Olympian games (there celebrated) he might in such concourse bless his eyes with so desired an encounter: but that huge and sportful assembly grew to him a tedious loneliness, esteeming no body found, since Daiphantus was lost. Afterwards he passed through Achaia and Sicyonia, to the Corinthians, proud of their two Seas, to learn whither by the strength of that Isthmus, it was possible to know of his passage. But finding every place more dumb than other to his demands, and remembering that it was late-taken love, which had wrought this new course, he returned again (after two months' travail in vain) to make fresh search in Arcadia; so much the more, as then first he bethought himself of the picture of Philoclea (in resembling her he had once loved) might perhaps awake again that sleeping passion. And having already past over the greatest part of Arcadia, one day coming under the side of the pleasant mountain Moenalus, his horse (nothing guilty of his inquisitiveness) with flat tiring taught him, that discrete stays make speedy journeys. And therefore lighting down, and unbrideling his horse, he himself went to repose himself in a little wood he saw thereby. Where lying under the protection of a shady tree, with intention to make forgetting sleep comfort a sorrowful memory, he saw a sight which persuaded, and obtained of his eyes, that they would abide yet a while open. It was the appearing of a Lady, who because she walked with her side toward him, he could not perfectly, see her face; but so much he might see of her, that was a surety for the rest, that all was excellent.  
Well might he perceive the hanging of her hair in argument key no. 2 fairest quantity, in locks, some curled, & some as it were forgotten, with such a careless care, & an art so hiding art, that she seemed she would lay them for a pattern, whither nature simply, or nature helped by cunning, be more excellent: the rest whereof was drawn into a coronet of gold richly set with pearl, and so joined all over with gold wires, and covered with feathers of divers colours, that it was not unlike to an helmet, such a glittering show it bore, & so bravely it was held up from the head. Upon her body she ware a doublet of sky colour satin, covered with plates of gold, & as it were nailed with precious stones, that in it she might seem armed; the neither parts of her garment was so full of stuff, & cut after such a fashion, that though the length of it reached to the ankles, yet in her going one might sometimes discern the small of her leg, which with the foot was dressed in a short pair of crimson velvet buskins, in some places open (as the ancient manner was) to show the fairness of the skin. Over all this she ware a certain mantel, made in such manner, that coming under the right arm, and covering most of that side, it had no fastening of the left side, but only upon the top of the shoulder: where the two ends met, and were closed together with a very rich jewel: the devise whereof (as he after seen) was this: a Hercules made in little form, but a distasseset within his hand as he once was by Omphale's commandment with a word in Greek, but thus to be interpreted, Never more valiant. On the same side, on her thigh she ware a sword, which as it witnessed her to be an Amazon, or one following that profession, so it seemed but a needle's weapon, since her other forces were without withstanding. But this Lady walked outright, till he might see her enter into a fine close arbour: it was of trees whose branches so lovingly interlaced one the other; that it could resist the strongest violence of eyesight; but she went into it by a door she opened; which moved him as warily as he could to follow her, and by and by he might hear her sing this song, with a voice no less beautiful to his ears, than her goodliness was full of harmony to his eyes.  

Transformed in show, but more transformed in mind, argument key no. 3  
I cease to strive with double conquest soiled:  
For (woe is me) my powers all I find  
With outward force, and inward treason spoiled.   

For from without come to my eyes the blow,  
Whereto my inward thoughts did saintly yield;  
Both these conspired poor Reasons overthrow;  
False in myself, thus have I lost the field.   

Thus are my eyes still Captive to one sight:  
Thus all my thouhts are slaves to one thought still:  
Thus Reason to his servants yields his right;  
Thus is my power transformed to your william.  
What marvel than I take a woman's hue,  
Since what I see, think, know is all but you?   
The ditty gave him some suspicion, but the voice argument key no. 4 gave him almost assurance, who the singer was. And therefore boldly thrusting open the door, and entering into the arbour, he perceived in deed that it was Pyrocles thus disguised, wherewith not receiving so much joy to have found him, as grief so to have found him, amazedly looking upon him (as Apollo is painted when he seen Daphne suddenly turned into a Laurel) he was not able to bring forth a word. So that Pyrocles (who had as much shame, as Musidorus had sorrow) rising to him, would have form a substantial excuse; but his insinuation being of blushing, and his division of sighs, his whole oration stood upon a short narration, what was the causer of this Metamorphosis? But by that time Musidorus had gathered his spirits together, and yet casting a gastfull countenance upon him (as if he would conjure some strange spirits) he thus spoke unto him.  
argument key no. 5 And is it possible, that this is Pyrocles, the only young Prince in the world, form by nature, and framed by education, to the true exercise of virtue? or is it indeed some Amazon that hath counterfeited the face of my friend, in this sort to vex me? for likelier sure I would have thought it, that any outward face might have been disguised, then that the face of so excellent a mind could have been thus blemished. OH sweet Pyrocles, separate yourself a little (if it be possible) from yourself, and let your own mind look upon your own proceed: so shall my words be needless, and you best instructed. See with yourself, how sit it will be for you in this your tender youth, borne so great a Prince, and of so rare, not only expectation, but proof, desired of your old Father, and wanted of your native country, now so near your home, to divert your thoughts from the way of goodness; to lose, nay to abuse your time. Lastly to overthrow all the excellent things you have done, which have filled the world with your same; as if you should drown your ship in the long desired haven, or like an ill player, should mar the last act of his Tragedy. Remember (for I know you know it) that if we will be men, the reasonable part of our soul, is to have absolute commandment; against which if any sensual weakness arise, we are to yield all our sound forces to the overthrowing of so unnatural a rebellion, wherein how can we want courage, since we are to deal against so weak an adversary, that in itself is nothing but weakness? Nay we are to resolve, that if reason direct it, we must do it, and if we must do it, we will do it; for to say I cannot, is childish, and I will not, womanish. And see how extremely every way you endanger your mind; for to take this womanish habit (without you frame your behaviour accordingly) is wholly vain: your behaviour can never come kindly from you, but as the mind is proportioned unto it. So that you must resolve, if you will play your part to any purpose, whatsoever peevish affections are in that sex, soften your heart to receive them, the very first downe-steppe to all wickedness: for do not deceive yourself, my dear cousin, there is no man suddenly excellently good, or extremely evil, but grows either as he holds himself up in virtue, or lets himself slide to viciousness. And let us see, what power is the author of all these troubles: forsooth love, love, a passion, and the basest and fruitlessest of all passions: fear breedeth wit, Anger is the cradle of courage: joy openeth and enhableth the heart: sorrow, as it closeth, so it draweth it inward to look to the correcting of itself; and so all generally have power towards some good by the direction of right Reason. But this bastard Love (for in deed the name of Love is most unworthylie apply to so hateful a humour) as it is engendered betwixt lust and idleness; as the matter it works upon is nothing, but a certain base weakness, which some gentle fools call a gentle heart; as his adjoined companions be unquietness, long, found comforts, saint discomforts, hopes, jealousies, ungrounded rages, causeless yielding; so is the highest end it aspires unto, a little pleasure with much pain before, and great repentance after. But that end how endless it runs to infinite evils, were fit enough for the matter we speak of, but not for your ears, in whom indeed there is so much true disposition to virtue: yet thus much of his worthy effects in yourself is to be seen, that (besides your breaking laws of hospitality with Kalander and of friendship with me) it utterly subverts the course of nature, in making reason give place to sense, & man to woman. And truly I think hereupon it first got the name of Love: for indeed the true love hath that excellent nature in it, that it doth transform the very essence of the lover into the thing loved, uniting, and as it were incorporating it with a secret & inward working. And herein do these kinds of love imitate the excellent; for as the love of heaven makes one heavenly, the love of virtue, virtuous; so doth the love of the world make one become worldly, and this effeminate love of a woman, doth so womanish a man, that (if he yield to it) it will not only make him an Amazon; but a launder, a distass-spinner; or what so ever Other vile occupation their idle heads can imagine, & their weak hands perform. Therefore (to trouble you no longer with my tedious but loving words) if either you remember what you are, what you have been, or what you must be: if you consider what it is, that moved you, or by what kind of creature you are moved, you shall find the cause so small, the effect so dangerous, yourself so unworthy to run into the one, or to be driven by the other, that I doubt not I shall quickly have occasion rather to praise you for having conquered it, then to give you further counsel, how to do it.  
But in Pyrocles this speech wrought no more, but argument key no. 6 that he, who before he was espied, was afraid; after, being perceived, was ashamed, now being hardly rubbed upon, lest both fear and shame, and was moved to anger. But the exceeding good will he bore to Musidorus striving with it, he thus, partly to satisfy him, but principally to lose the reins to his own motions, made him answer. Cousin, whatsoever good disposition nature hath bestowed upon me, or howsoever that disposition hath been by bringing up confirmed, this must I confess, that I am not yet come to that degree of wisdom, to think light of the sex, of whom I have my life; since if I be any thing (which your friendship rather finds, than I acknowledge) I was to come to it, born of a woman, & nursed of a woman. And certainly (for this point of your speech doth nearest touch me) it is strange to see the unman-like cruelty of mankind; who not content with their tyrannous ambition, to have brought the others virtuous patience under them (like to childish masters) think their masterhood nothing, without doing ininiury to them, who (if we will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same parts of the mind for the exercise of virtue, as we are. And for example, even this estate of Amazons, (which I now for my greatest honour do seek to counterfeit) doth well witness, that if generally the sweetness of their dispositions did not make them see the vainness of these things, which we account glorious, they neither want valour of mind, nor yet doth their fairness take away their force. And truly we men, and praisers of men, should remember, that if we have such excellencies, it is reason to think them excellent creatures, of whom we are: since a Kite never brought forth a good flying Hawk. But to tell you true, as I think it superfluous to use any words of such a subject, which is so praised in itself, as it needs no praises; so withal I fear left my conceit (not able to reach unto them) bring forth words, which for their unworthiness may be a disgrace unto them I so inwardly honour. Let this suffice, that they are capable of virtue: & virtue (ye yourselves say) is to be loved, & I too truly: but this I willingly confess, that it likes me much better, when I find virtue in a fair lodging, than when I am bound to seek it in an ill favoured creature, like a pearl in a dounghill. As for my fault of being an uncivil guest to Kalander, if you could feel what an inward guest myself am host unto: ye would think it very excusable, in that I rather perform the duties of an host, than the ceremonies of a guest. And for my breaking the laws of friendship with you, (which I would rather die, then effectually do) truly, I could find in my heart to ask you pardon for it, but that your handling of me gives me reason to my former dealing. And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breathe himself, having been transported with a little vehemency, because it seemed him Musidorus had over-bitterly glaunsed against the reputation of womankind: but then quieting his countenance (aswell as out of an unquiet mind it might be) he thus procèeded on: And poor Love (said he) dear cousin, is little beholding unto you, since you are not contented to spoil it of the honour of the highest power of the mind, which notable men have attributed unto it; but ye deject it below all other passions, in truth somewhat strangely; since, if love receive any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you prefer before it. For those kinds of bitter objections (as, that lust, idleness, and a weak heart, should be, as it were, the matter and form of love) rather touch me, dear Musidorus, than love: But I am good witness of my own imperfections, & therefore will not defend myself: but herein I must say, you deal contrary to yourself: for if I be so weak, then can you not with reason stir me up as ye did, by remembrance of my own virtue: or if indeed I be virtuous, them must ye confeffe, that love hath his working in a virtuous heart: & so no doubt hath it, whatsoever I be: for if we love virtue, in whom shall we love it but in a virtuous creature: without your meaning be, I should love this word virtue, where I see it written in a book. Those troublesome effects you say it breeds, be not the faults of love, but of him that loves; as an unable vessel to bear such a liquor: like evil eyes, not able to look on the Sun; or like an ill brain, soonest overthrown with best wine. Even that heavenly love you speak of, is accompanied in some hearts with hopes, griefs, long, & despairs. And in that heavenvly love, since there are two parts, the one the love itself, th' other the excellencey of the thing loved; I, not able at the first leap to frame both in me, do now (like a diligent workman) make ready the chief instrument, and first part of that great work, which is love itself; which when I have a while practised in this sort, than you shall see me turn it to greater matters. And thus gently you may (if it please you) think of me. Neither doubt ye, because I wear a woman's apparel, I will be the more womanish, since, I assure you (for all my apparel) there is nothing I desire more, then fully to prove myself a man in this enterprise. Much might be said in my defence, much more for love, and most of all for that divine creature, which hath joined me and love together. But these disputations are fit for quiet schools, than my troubled brains, which are bend rather in deeds to perform, then in words to defend the noble desire which possesseth me. OH Lord (said Musidorus) how sharp-witted you are to hurt yourself? Not (answered he) but it is the hurt you speak of, which makes me so sharp-witted. Even so (said Musidorus) as every base occupation makes one sharp in that practice, and foolish in all the rest. Nay rather (answered Pyrocles) as each excellent thing once well learned, serves for a measure of all other knowledges. And is that become (said Musidorus) a measure for other things, which never received measure in itself? It is counted without measure (answered Pyrocles,) because the work of it are without measure: but otherwise, in nature it hath measure, since it hath an end allotted unto it. The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the end. Enjoying, answered Pyrocles, with a great sigh. OH (said Musidorus) now set ye forth the baseness of it: since if it end in enjoying, it shows all the rest was nothing. You mistake me (answered Pyrocles) I spoke of the end to which it is directed; which end ends not, no sooner than the life. Alas, let your own brain disenchant you (said Musidorus.) My heart is too far possessed (said Pyrocles.) But the head gives you direction. And the heart gives me life; answered Pyrocles.  
But Musidorus was so grieved to see his well-beloved argument key no. 7 friend obstinate, as he thought, to his own destruction, that it forced him with more then accustomed vehemency, to speak these words; Well, well, (said he) you list to abuse yourself; it was a very white and read virtue, which you could pick out of a painterly gloss of visage: Confess the truth; and ye shall find, the utmost was but beauty; a thing, which though it be in as great excellency in yourself as may be in any, yet I am sure you make no further reckoning of it, then of an outward fading benefit Nature bestowed upon you. And yet such is your want of a true grounded virtue, which must be like itself in all points, that what you wisely accounted a trifle in yourself, you fond become a slave unto in another. For my part I now protest, I have left nothing unfaid, which my wit could make me know, or my most entire friendship to you requires of me; I do now beseech you even for the love betwixt us (if this other love have left any in you towards me) and for the remembrance of your old careful father (if you can remember him that forget yourself) last for Pyrocles own sake (who is now upon the point of falling or rising) to purge yourself of this vile infection; other wife give me leave, to leave of this name of friendship, as an idle title of a thing which cannot be, wherevertue is abolished. The length of these speeches before had not so much cloyed Pyrocles, though he were very unpatient of long deliberations, as the last farewell of him he loved as his own life, did wound his soul, thinking himself afflicted, he was the apt to conceive unkindness deeply: insomuch, that shaking his head, and delivering some show of tears, he thus uttered his griefs. Alas (said he) prince Musidorus, how cruelly you deal with me; if you seek the victory, take it; and if ye list, triumph. Have you all the reason of the world, and with me remain all the imperfections; yet such as I can no more lay from me, than the Crow can be persuaded by the Swan to cast of all his black feathers. But truly you deal with me like a Physician, that seeing his patient in a pestilent fever, should chide him, in steed of ministering help, and bid him be sick no more; or rather like such a friend, that visiting his friend condemned to perpectuall prison; and loaden with grievous fetters, should will him to shake of his fetters, or he would leave him. I am sick, & sick to the death; I am a prisoner, neither is any redress, but by her to whom I am slave. Now if you list to leave him that loves you in the highest degree: But remember ever to carry this with you, that you abandon your friend in his greatest extremity.  
And herewith the deep wound of his love being rubbed afresh with this new unkindness, begun (as it were) to bleed again, in such fort that he was not able to bear it any longer, but gushing out abundance of tears, and crossing his arms over his woeful heart, as if his tears had been outflowing blood, his arms an over-pressing burden, he sunk down to the ground, which sudden trance went so to the heart of Musidorus that falling down by him & kissing the weeping eyes of his friend, he besought him not to make account of his speech; which if it had been over vehement, yet was it to be borne withal, because it come out of a love much more vehement; that he had not thought fancy could have received so deep a wound: but now finding in him the force of it, he would no further contrary it; but employ all his service to medicine it, in such fort, as the nature of it required. But even this kindness made Pyrocles the more melt in the former unkindness, which his manlike tears well showed, with a silent look upon Musidorus, as who should say, And is it possible that Musidorus should threaten to leave me? And this struck Musidorus mind and senses so dumb too, that for grief being not able to say any thing, they rested, with their eyes placed one upon another, in such sort, as might well paint out the true passion of unkindness to be never aright, but betwixt them that most dearly love.  
And thus remained they a time; till at length, Musidorus embracing him, said, And will you thus shake of your friend? It is you that shake me of (said Pyrocles) being for my unperfectness unworthy of your friendship. But this (said Musidorus) shows you more unperfect, to be cruel to him, that submits himself unto you; but since you are unperfect (said he smiling) it is reason you be governed by us wise and perfect men. And that authority will I begin to take upon me, with three absolute commandments: The first, that you increase not your evil with further griefs: the second, that you love her with all the powers of your mind: & the last commandment shallbe, ye command me to do what service I can, towards the attaining of your desires. Pyrocles heart was not so oppressed with the mighty passions of love and unkindness, but that it yielded to some mirth at this commandment of Musidorus, that he should love: so that something cleared his face from his former shows of grief; Well (said he) dear cousin, I see by the well choosing of your commandements, that you are fit to be a Prince, than a Counsellor: and therefore I am resolved to employ all my endeavour to obey you; with this condition, that the commandments ye command me to lay upon you, shall only be, that you continued to love me, and look upon my imperfections, with more affection than judgement. Love you? (said he) alas, how can my heart be separated from the true embracing of it, without it burst, by being too full of it? But (said he) let us leave of these flowers of new begun friendship: and now I pray you again tell me; but tell it me fully, omitting no circumstance, the story of your affections both beginning, and proceeding: assuring yourself, that there is nothing so great, which I will fear to do for you: nor nothing so small, which I will disdain to do for you. Let me therefore receive a clear understanding, which many times we miss, while those things we accounted small, as a speech, or a look are omitted, like as a whole sentence may fail of his congruity, by wanting one particle. Therefore between friends, all must be laid open, nothing being superfluous, nor tedious. You shallbe obeyed (said Pyrocles) and here are we in as fit a place for it as may be; for this arbour no body offers to come into but myself; I using it as my melancholy retiring place, and therefore that respect is born unto it; yet if by chance any should come, say that you are a servant sent from the Q. of the Amazons to seek me, and then let me alone for the rest. So fate they down, and Pyrocles thus said.   

CHAP. 13.  
¹ How Pyrocles fell in love with Philoclea. ² His counsel and course therein. ³ His disguising into Zelmane. ⁴ Her meeting with Damaetas, ⁵ Basilius, ⁶ the Queen and her daughters, & their speeches. ⁷ Her abode there over entreated; ⁸ and the place thereof described.  
COusin (said he) then began the argument key no. 1 fatal overthrow of all my liberty, when walking among the pictures in Kalander's house, you yourself delivered unto me what you had understood of Philoclea, who much resembling (though I must say much surpassing) the Lady Zelmane, whom too well I loved: there were my eyes infected, & at your mouth did I drink my poison. Yet alas so sweet was it unto me, that I could not be contented, till Kalander had made it more and more strong with his declaration. Which the more I questioned, the more pity I conceived of her unworthy fortune: and when with pity once my heart was made tender, according to the aptness of the humour, it received quickly a cruel impression of that wondered passion which to be defined is impossible, because no words reach to the strange nature of it: they only know it, which inwardly feel it, it is called love. Yet did I not (poor wretch) at first know my disease, thinking it only such a wonted kind of desire, to see rare sights; & my pity to be no other, but the fruits of a gentle nature. But even this arguing with myself come of further thoughts; & the more I argued, the more my thoughts increased. Desirous I was to see the place where she remained, as though the Architecture of the lodges would have been much for my learning; but more desirous to see herself, to be judge, forsooth, of the painters cunning. For thus at the first did I flatter myself, as though my wound had been no deeper: but when within short time I come to the degree of uncertain wishes, and that the wishes grew to unquiet long, when I could fix my thoughts upon nothing, but that within little varying, they should end with Philoclea: when each thing I seen, seemed to figure out some parts of my passions; when even Parthenia's fair face become a lecture to me of Philoclea's imagined beauty; when I heard no word spoken, but that me thought it carried the sum of Philoclea's name: then indeed, than I did yield to the burden, finding myself prisoner, before I had leisure to arm myself; & that I might well, like the spaniel, gnaw upon the chain that ties him, but I should sooner mar my teeth, then procure liberty.  
argument key no. 2 Yet I take to witness the eternal spring of virtue, that I had never read, heard, nor seen any thing; I had never any taste of Philosophy, nor inward feeling in myself, which for a while I did not call for my succour. But (alas) what resistance was there, when ere long my very reason was (you will say corrupted) I must needs confess, conquered; and that me thought even reason did assure me, that all eyes did degenerate from their creation, which did not honour such beauty? Nothing in truth could hold any plea with it, but the reverent friendship I bore unto you. For as it went against my heart to break any way from you, so did I fear more than any assault to break it to you: finding (as it is indeed) that to a heart fully resolute, counsel is tedious, but reprehension is loathsome: & that there is nothing more terrible to a guilty heart, than the eye of a respected friend. This made me determine with myself, (thinking it a less fault in friendship to do a thing without your knowledge, then against your will) to take this secret course: Which conceit was most builded up in me, the last day of my parting and speaking with you; when upon your speech with me, & my but naming love, (when else perchance I would have go further) I seen your voice & countenance so change, as it assured me, my revealing it should but purchase your grief with my cumber: & therefore (dear Musidorus) even ran away from thy well known chiding: for having written a letter, which I know not whither you found or not, & taking my chief jewels with me, while you were in the midst of your sport, I got a time (as I think) unmarked, to steal away, I cared not whither so I might scape you: & so come I to Ithonia in the province of Messenia; where lying secret I put this in practice which before I had devised. For remembering by Philanax his letter, & Kaladers speech, how obstinately Basilius was determined not to argument key no. 3 marry his daughters, & therefore fearing, left any public dealing should rather increase her captivity, then further my love; Love (the refiner of invention) had put in my head thus to disguise myself, that under that mask I might (if it were possible,) get access, and what access could bring forth, commit to fortune & industry: determining to bear the countenance of an Amazon. Therefore in the closest manner I could, naming myself Zelmane, for that dear Lady's sake, to whose memory I am so much bound, I caused this apparel to be made, and bringing it necre the lodges, which are hard at hand, by night, thus dressed myself, resting till occasion might make me found by them, whom I sought: which the next morning happened as well, as my own plot could have laid it. For after I had run over the whole pedigree of my thoughts, I gave myself to sing a little, which as you know I ever delighted in, so now especially, whither it be the nature of this clime to stir up Poetical fancies, or rather as I think, of Love; whose scope being pleasure, will not so much as utter his griefs, but in some form of pleasure.  
argument key no. 4 But I had song very little, when (as I think displeased with my bad music) comes master Dam with a hedging bill in his hand, chase, and swearing by the pantable of Pallas, & such other oaths as his rustical bravery could imagine; & when he seen me, I assure you my beauty was no more beholding to him than my harmony; for leaning his hands upon his bill, & his chin upon his hands, with the voice of one that playeth Hercules in a play, but never had his fancy in his head, the first word he spoke to me, was, Am not I Dam? why, am not I Dam? He needed not name himself: for Kalander's description had set such a note upon him, as made him very notable unto me, and therefore the height of my thoughts would not descend so much as to make him any answer, but continued on my inward discourses: which (he perchance witness of his own unworthiness, & therefore the apt to think himself contemned) took in so heinous manner, that standing upon his tiptoes, and staring as though he would have a more pulled out of his eye, Why (said he) thou woman, or boy, or both, what soever thou be, I tell thee here is no place for thee, get thee go, I tell thee it is the Prince's pleasure, I tell thee it is Dam pleasure. argument key no. 5 I could not choose, but smile at him, seeing him look so like an Ape that had newly taken a purgation; yet taking myself with the manner, spoke these words to myself: OH spirit (said I) of my, how canst thou receive any mirth in the midst of thy agonies, and thou mirth how darest thou enter into a mind so grown of late thy professed enemy? Thy spirit (said Dam) dost thou think me a spirit, I tell thee I am Basilius officer, and have charge of him, and his daughters. OH only pearl (said I sobbing) that so vile an oyster should keep thee? By the comb-case of Diana (swore Dam) this woman is mad: oysters, and pearls? dost thou think I will buy oysters? I tell thee once again get thee packing, and with that lifted up his bill to hit me with the blunt end of it: but indeed that put me quite out of my lesson, so that I forgot all Zelmanes-ship, and drawing out my sword, the baseness of the villain yet made me stay my hand, and he (who, as Kalander told me, from his childhood ever feared the blade of a sword) ran back, backward (with his hands above his head) at least twenty paces, gaping and staring, with the very grace (I think) of the clowns, that by Latona's prayers were turned into Frogs. At length staying, finding himself without the compass of blows, he fell to a fresh scolding, in such mannerly manner, as might well show he had passed through the discipline of a Tavern. But seeing me walk up and down, without marking what he said, he went his way (as I perceived after) to Basilius: for within a while he come unto me, bearing in deed shows in his countenance of an honest and well-minded gentleman, and with as much courtesy, as Dam with rudeness saluting me, Fair Lady (said he) it is nothing strange, that such a solitary place as this should receive solitary persons; but much do I marvel, how such a beauty as yours is, should be suffered to be thus alone. I (that now knew it was my part to play) looking with a grave majesty upon him, as if I found in myself cause to be reverenced. They are never alone (said I) that are accompanied with noble thoughts. But those thoughts (replied Basilius) cannot in this your loneliness neither warrant you from suspicion in others, nor defend you from melancholy in yourself. I then showing a mislike that he pressed me so far, I seek no better warrant (said I) than my own conscience, nor no greater pleasures, than my own contentation. Yet virtue seeks to satisfy others, (said Basilius.) Those that be good (said I,) and they will be satisfied as long as they see no evil. Yet will the best in this country, (said Basilius) suspect so excellent a beauty being so weakly guarded. Than are the best but stark naught, (answered I) for open suspecting others, comes of secret condemning themselves; But in my country (whose manners I am in all places to maintain and reverence) the general goodness (which is nourished in our hearts) makes every one think the strength of virtue in an other, where of they find the assured foundation in themselves. Excellent Lady (said he) you praise so greatly, (and yet so wisely) your country, that I must needs desire to know what the nest is, out of which such Birds do fly.  
You must first deserve it (said I) before you may obtain it. And by what means (said Basilius) shall I deserve to know your estate? By letting me first know yours (answered I) To obey you (said he) I will do it, although it were so much more reason, yours should be known first, as you do deserve in all points to be preferred. Know you (fair Lady) that my name is Basilius, unworthily Lord of this country: the rest, either fame hath brought to your ears, or (if it please you to make this place happy by your presence) at more leisure you shall understand of me. I that from the beginning assured myself it was he, but would not seem I did so, to keep my gravity the better, making a piece of reverence unto him, Mighty Prince (said I) let my not knowing you serve for the excuse of my boldness, and the little reverence I do you, impute it to the manner of my country, which is the invincible Land of the Amazons; Myself niece to Senicia, Queen thereof, lineally descended of the famous Penthesilea, slain by the bloody hand of Pyrrhus. I having in this my youth determined to make the world see the Amazons excellencies, aswell in private, as in public virtue, have passed some dangerous adventures in divers countries: till the unmerciful Sea deprived me of my company: so that shipwreck casting me not far hence, uncertain wandering brought me to this place. But Basilius (who now began to taste that, which since he hath swallowed up, as I will tell you) fell to more cunning entreating my abode, than any greedy host would use to well paying passengers. I thought nothing could shoot righter at the mark of my desires; yet had I learned already somuch, that it was against my womanhood to be forward in my own wishes. And therefore he (to prove wither intercessions in fit mouths might better prevail) commanded Dam to bring forthwith his wife and daughters thither; three Ladies, although of divers, yet all of excellent beauty.  
argument key no. 6 His wife in grave Matronlike attire, with countenance and gesture suitable, and of such fairness (being in the strength of her age) as if her, daughters had not been by, might with just price have purchased admiration; but they being there, it was enough that the most dainty eye would think her a worthy mother of such children. The fair Pamela, whose noble heart I find doth greatly disdain, that the trust of her virtue is reposed in such a louts hands as Dam, had yet to show an obedience, taken on shepeardish apparel, which was but of Russet cloth cut after their fashion, with a strait body, open breasted, the neither part full of plights, with long and wide sleeves: but believe me she did apparel her apparel, and with the preciousness of her body made it most sumptuous. Her hair at the full length, wound about with gold lace, only by the comparison to see how far her hair doth excel in colour: betwixt her breasts (which sweetly raze up like two fair Mountaints in the pleasant valley of Tempe) there hung a very rich Diamond set but in a black horn, the word I have since read is this; yet still myself. And thus particularly have I described them, because you may know that my eyes are not so partial, but that I marked them too. But when the ornament of the Earth, the model of heaven, the Triumph of Nature, the light of beauty, Queen of Love, young Philoclea appeared in her Nimphe-like apparel, so near nakedness, as one might well discern part of her perfections; & yet so appareled, as did show she kept best store of her beauty to herself: her hair (alas too poor a word, why should I not rather call than her beams) drawn up into a net, able to take jupiter when he was in the form of an Eagle; her body (OH sweet body) covered with a light Taffeta garment, so cut, as the wrought smock come through it in many places, enough to have made your restrained imagination have thought what was under it: with the cast of her black eyes; black indeed, whither nature so made them, that we might be the more able to behold & bear their wonderful shining, or that she, (goddess like) would work this miracle in herself, in giving blackness the price above all beauty. Than (I say) indeed me thought the Lilies grew pale for envy, the roses me thought blushed to see sweeter roses in her cheeks, & the apples me thought, fell down from the trees, to do homage to the apples of her breast; Than the clouds gave place, that the heavens might more freshly smile upon her; at the jest the clouds of my thoughts quite vanished: and my sight (then more clear and forcible than ever) was so fixed there, that (I imagine) I stood like a well wrought image, with some life in show, but noon in practice. And so had I been like enough to have stayed long time, but that Gynoecia stepping between my sight and the only Philoclea, the change of object made me recover my senses: so that I could with reasonable good manner receive the salutation of her, and of the the princes Pamela, doing them yet no further reverence than one Prince useth to another. But when I come to the never-inough praised Philoclea, I could not but fall down on my knees, and taking by force her hand, and kissing it (I must confess) with more than womanly ardency, Divine Lady, (said I) let not the world, nor these great princes marvel, to see me (contrary to my manner) do this especial honour unto you, since all both men and women, do own this to the perfection of your beauty. But she blushing (like a fair morning in May) at this my singularity, and causing me to rise, Noble Lady, (said she) it is no marvel to see your judgement mistaken in my beauty, since you begin with so great an error, as to do more honour unto me then to them, whom I myself own all service. Rather (answered I with a bowed down countenance) that shows the power of your beauty, which forced me to do such an error, if it were an error. You are so well acquainted (said she sweetly, most sweetly smiling,) with your own beauty, that it makes you easily fall into the discourse of beauty. Beauty in me? (said I truly sighing) alas if there be any, it is in my eyes, which your blessed presence hath imparted unto them.  
argument key no. 7 But then (as I think) Basilius willing her so do, Well (said she) I must needs confess I have heard that it is a great happiness to be praised of them that are most praise worthy; And well I find that you are an invincible Amazon, since you will overcome, though in a wrong matter. But if my beauty be any thing, then let it obtain thus much of you, that you will remain some while in this company, to ease your own travail, and our solitariness. First let me die (said I) before any word spoken by such a mouth, should come in vain.  
And thus with some other words of entertaining, was my staying concluded, and I led among them to the lodge; truly a place for pleasantness, argument key no. 8 not unfit to flatter solitariness; for it being set upon such an unsensible rising of the ground, as you are come to a pretty height before almost you perceive that you ascend, it gives the eye lordship over a good large circuit, which according to the nature of the country, being diversified between hills and dales, woods and plains, one place more clear, and the other more darksome, it seems a pleasant picture of nature, with lovely lightsomeness and artificial shadows. The Lodge is of a yellow stone, built in the form of a star; having round about a garden framed into like points: and beyond the garden, ridings cut out, each answering the Angles of the Lodge: at the end of one of them is the other smaller Lodge, but of like fashion; where the gracious Pamela liveth: so that the Lodge seemeth not unlike a fair Comet, whose tail stretcheth itself to a star of less greatness.   

CHAP. 14.  
¹ The devices of the first banquet to Zelmane. ² Her crosses in love, ³ by the love of Basilius ⁴ and Gynoecia ⁵ The conclusion between Musidorus and Zelmane.  
SO Gynoecia herself bringing me to my argument key no. 1 Lodging, anon after I was invited and brought down to sup with them in the garden, a place not fairer in natural ornaments, then artificial inventions: wherein is a banqueting house among certain pleasant trees, whose heads seemed curled with the wrappings about of Vine branches. The table was set near to an excellent waterwork; for by the casting of the water in most cunning manner, it makes (with the shining of the Sun upon it) a perfect rainbow, not more pleasant to the eye then to the mind, so sensibly to see the proof of the heavenly Iris. There were birds also made so finely, that they did not only deceive the sight with their figure, but the hearing with their songs; which the watery instruments did make their gorge deliver. The table at which we sat, was round, which being fast to the floor whereon we sat, and that divided from the rest of the buildings (with turning a vice, which Basilius at first did to make me sport) the table, and we about the table, did all turn round, by means of water which ran under, and carried it about as a Mille. But alas, what pleasure did it to me, to make divers times the full circle round about, since Philoclea (being also set) was carried still in equal distance from me, and that only my eyes did overtake her; which when the table was stayed, and we began to feed, drank much more eagerlie of her beauty, than my mouth did of any other liquor. And so was my common sense deceived (being chief bend to her) that as I drank the wine, and withal stolen a look on her, me seemed I tasted her deliciousness. But alas, the one thirst was much more inflamed, than the other quenched. Sometimes my eyes would lay themselves open to receive all the darts she did throw, sometimes close up with admiration, as if with a contrary fancy, they would preserve the riches of that sight they had gotten, or cast my lid as curtains over the image of beauty, her presence had painted in them. True it is, that my Reason (now grown a servant to Passion) did yet often tell his master, that he should more moderately use his delight. But he, that of a rebel was become a Prince, disdained almost to allow him the place of a Counsellor: so that my senses delights being too strong for any other resolution, I did even lose the rains unto them: hoping, that (going for a woman) my looks would pass, either unmarked, or unsuspected.  
Now thus I had (as me thought) well played my first argument key no. 2 act, assuring myself, that under that disguisment, I should found opportunity to reveal myself to the owner of my heart. But who would think it possible (though I feel it true) that in almost eight weeks space, I have lived here (having no more company but her parents, and I being familiar, as being a woman, and watchful, as being a lover) yet could never find opportunity to have one minutes leisure of privy conference: the cause where of is as strange, as the effects are to me miserable. And (alas) this it is.  
At the first sight that Basilius had of me (I think Cupid argument key no. 3 having headed his arrows with my misfortune) he was stricken (taking me to be such as I profess) with great affection towards me: which since is grown to such a doting love, that (till I was feign to get this place, sometimes to retire unto freely) I was even choked with his tediousness. You never seen fourscore years dance up and down more lively in a young Lover: now, as fine in his apparel, as if he would make me in love with a cloak; and verse for verse with the sharpest-witted Lover in Arcadia. Do you not think that this is a salad of woormwood, while my eyes feed upon the Ambrosia of Philoclea's beauty.  
But this is not all; no this is not the worst; for he (good man) were easy enough to be dealt with: but (as I think) Love and mischief having made a wager, which should have most power in me, have set Gynoecia argument key no. 4 also on such a fire towards me, as will never (I fear) be quenched but with my destruction. For she (being a woman of excellent wit, and of strong working thoughts) whither she suspected me by my over-vehement shows of affection to Philoclea (which love forced me unwisely to utter, while hope of my mask foolishly encouraged me) or that she hath taken some other mark of me, that I am not a woman: or what devil it is hath revealed it unto her, I know not; but so it is, that all her countenances, words and gestures, are miserable portraitures of a desperate affection. Whereby a man may learn, that these avoydings of company, do but make the passions more violent, when they meet with fit subjects. Truly it were a notable dumb show of Cupid's kingdom, to see my eyes (languishing with over-vehement longing) direct themselves to Philoclea: & Basilius as busy about me as a Bee, & indeed as cumbersome; making such suits to me, who neither could if I would; nor would if I could, help him: while the terrible wit of Gynoecia, carried with the beer of violent love, runs thorough us all. And so jealous is she of my love to her daughter, that I could never yet begin to open my mouth to the unevitable Philoclea, but that her unwished presence gave my tale a conclusion, before it had a beginning.  
And surely if I be not deceived, I see such shows of liking, and (if I be acquainted with passions) of almost a passionate liking in the heavenly Philoclea, towards me, that I may hope her ears would not abhor my discourse. And for good Basilius, he thought it best to have lodged us together, but that the eternal hatefulness of my destiny, made Cynecias' jealousy stop that, and all other my blessings. Yet must I confess, that one way her love doth me pleasure: for since it was my foolish fortune, or unfortunate folly, to be known by her, that keeps her from bewraying me to Basilius. And thus (my Musidorus) you have my Tragedy played unto you by myself, which I pray the gods may not in deed prove a Tragedy. And there he ended, making a full point of a hearty sigh.  
Musidorus recommended to his best discourse, all which argument key no. 5 Pyrocles had told him. But therein he found such intricateness, that he could see no way to led him out of the maze; yet perceiving his affection so grounded, that striving against it, did rather anger then heal the wound, and rather call his friendship in question, then give place to any friendly counsel. Well (said he) dear cousin, since it hath pleased the gods to mingle your other excellencies with this humour of love, yet happy it is, that your love is employed upon so rare a woman: for certainly, a noble cause doth ease much agrievous case. But as it stands now, nothing vexeth me, as that I cannot see wherein I can be serviceable unto you. I desire no greater service of you (answered Pyrocles) them that you remain secretly in this country, & sometimes come to this place; either late in the night, or early in the morning, where you shall have my key to enter, because as my fortune, either amendss or impairs. I may declare it unto you, and have your counsel and furtherance: & hereby I will of purpose led her, that is the praise, and yet the stain of all womankind, that you may have so good a view, as to allow my judgement: and as I can get the most convenient time, I will come unto you; for though by reason of yonder wood you cannot see the Lodge; it is hard at hand. But now, (said she) it is time for me to leave you, and towards evening we will walk out of purpose hitherward, therefore keep yourself close in that time. But Musidorus bethinking himself that his horse might happen to bewray them, thought it best to return for that day, to a village not far of, and dispatching his horse in some sort, the next day early to come a foot thither, and so to keep that course afterward, which Pyrocles very well liked of. Now farewell dear cousin (said he) from me, no more Pyrocles, nor Daiphantus now, but Zelmane: Zelmane is my name, Zelmane is my title, Zelmane is the only hope of my advancement. And with that word going out, and seeing that the coast was clear, Zelmane dismissed Musidorus, who departed as full of care to help his friend, as before he was to dissuade him.   

CHAP. 15.  
¹ The Labyrinth of Zelmane's love. ² The Lady's exercises. ³ The challenge of Phalantus in paragon of Artesias beauty. ⁴ The description of their persons and affections: ⁵ and occasion of this challenge. ⁶ The success thereof abroad.  
ZElmane returned to the Lodge, argument key no. 1 where (inflamed by Philoclea, watched by Gynoecia, and tired by Basilius) she was like a horse, desirous to run, and miserably spurred, but so short rained, as he cannot stir forward: Zelmane sought occasion to speak with Philoclea; Basilius with Zelmane; and Gynoecia hindered them all. If Philoclea happened to sigh (and sigh she did often) as if that sigh were to be waited on, Zelmane sighed also; whereto Basilius and Gynoecia soon made up four parts of sorrow. Their affection increased their conversation; and their conversation increased their affection. The respect borne bred due ceremonies; but the affection shined so through them, that the ceremonies seemed not ceremonious. Zelmane's eyes were (like children asore sweet meat) eager, but fearful of their ill-pleasing governors. Time in one instant, seeming both short, and long unto them: short, in the pleasingnes of such presence: long, in the stay of their desires.  
But Zelmane failed not to entice them all many times argument key no. 2 abroad, because she was desirous her friend Musidorus (near whom of purpose she led them) might have full sight of them. Sometimes angling to a little River near hand, which for the moisture it bestowed upon roots of some flourishing Trees, was rewarded with their shadow. There would they sit down, & pretty wagers be made between Pamela and Philoclea, which could soonest beguile silly fishes; while Zelmane protested, that the fit pray for them was hearts of Princes. She also had an angle in her hand; but the taker was so taken, that she had forgotten taking. Basilius in the mean time would be the cook himself of what was so caught, & Gynoecia sit still, but with no still pensifnesse. Now she brought them to see a feeled Dove, who the blinder she was, the higher she strove. Another time a Kite, which having a gut cunningly pulled out of her, and so let fly, called all the Kites in that quarter, who (as oftentimes the world is deceived) thinking her prosperous when indeed she wàs wounded, made the poor Kite found, that opinion of riches may well be dangerous.  
argument key no. 3 But these recreations were interrupted by a delight of more gallant show; for one evening as Basilius returned from having forced his thoughts to please themselves in such small conquests, there come a shepherd, who brought him word that a Gentleman desired leave to do a message from his Lord unto him. Basilius granted; whereupon the Gentleman come, and after the dutiful ceremonies observed, in his masters name told him, that he was sent from Phalantus of Corinth, to crave licence, that as he had done in many other courts, so he might in his presence defy all Arcadian Knights in the behalf of his mistress beauty, who would beside, herself in person be present, to give evident proof what his lance should affirm. The conditions of his challenge were, that the defendant should bring his mistress picture, which being set by the image of Artesia (so was the mistress of Phalantus named) who in six courses should have better of the other, in the judgement of Basilius, with him both the honours and the pictures should remain. Basilius (though he had retired himself into that solitary dwelling, with intention to avoid, rather than to accept any matters of drawing company; yet because he would entertain Zelmane, (that she might not think the time so gainful to him, loss to her) granted him to pitch his tent for three days, not far from the lodge, and to proclaim his challenge, that what Arcadian Knight (for noon else but upon his peril was licenced to come) would defend what he honoured against Phalantus, should have the like freedom of access and return.  
argument key no. 4 This obtained and published, Zelmane being desirous to learn what this Phalantus was, having never known him further than by report of his own good, in somuch as he was commonly called, The fair man of arms, Basilius told her that he had had occasion by one very inward with him, to know in part the discourse of his life, which was, that he was bastard-brother to the fair Helen Queen of Corinth, and dearly esteemed of her for his exceeding good parts, being honourably courteous, and wronglesly valiant, considerately pleasant in conversation, & an excellent courtier without unfaithfulness; who (finding his sisters unperswadeable melancholy, thorough the love of Amphialus) had for a time left her court, and go into Laconia: where in the war against the Helots, he had gotten the reputation of one, that both durst & knew. But as it was rather choice than nature, that led him to matters of arms, so as soon as the spur of honour ceased, he willingly rested in peaceable delights, being beloved in all companies for his lovely qualities, & (as a man may term it) cunning cheerfulness, whereby to the Prince & Court of Laconia, noon was more agreeable than Phalantus: and he not given greatly to struggle with his own disposition, followed the gentle currant of it, having a fortune sufficient to content, & he content with a sufficient fortune. But in that court he saw, and was acquainted with this Artesia, whose beauty he now defends, become her servant, said himself, and perchance thought himself her lover. But certainly, (said Basilius) many times it falls out, that these young companions make themselves believe they love at the first liking of a likely beauty; loving, because they will love for want of other business, not because they feel indeed that divine power, which makes the heart find a reason in passion: and so (God knows) as inconstantly lean upon the next chance that beauty casts before them. So therefore taking love upon him like a fashion, he courted this Lady Artesia, who was as fit to pay him in his own money as might be. For she thinking she did wrong to her beauty if she were not proud of it, called her disdain of him chastity, and placed her honour in little setting by his honouring her: determining never to marry, but him, whom she thought worthy of her: and that was one, in whom all worthiness were harboured. And to this conceit not only nature had bend her, but the bringing up she received at my sister in law Cecropia, had confirmed her: who having in her widowhood taken this young Artesia into her charge; because her Father had been a dear friend of her dead husbands, and taught her to think that there is no wisdom but in including heaven & earth in ones self: and that love, courtesy, gratefulness, friendship, and all other virtues are rather to be taken on, then taken in one's self: And so good discipline she found of her, that liking the fruits of her own planting, she was content (if so her son could have liked of it) to have wished her in marriage to my Nephew Amphialus. But I think that desire hath lost some of his heat, since she hath known, that such a Queen as Helen is, doth offer so great a price as a kingdom, to buy his favour; for if I be not deceived in my good sister Cecropia, she thinks no face so beautiful, as that which looks under a crown. But Artesia indeed liked well of my Nephew Amphialus; for I can never deem that love, which in haughty hearts proceeds of a desire only to please, and as it were, peacock themselves; but yet she hath showed vehemency of desire that way, I think, because all her desires be vehement, in so much that she hath both placed her only brother (a fine youth called Ismenus) to be his squire, and herself is content to wait upon my sister, till she may see the uttermost what she may work in Amphialus: who being of a melancholy (though I must needs say courteous and noble) mind, seems to love nothing less than Love: & of late having through some adventure, or inward miscontentment, withdrawn himself from any bodies knowledge, where he is: Artesia the easier condescended to go to the court of Laconia, whither she was sent for by the kings wife, to whom she is somewhat allied.  
And there after the war of the Helots, this Knight Phalantus, (at lest for tongue-delight) made himself her servant, and she so little caring, as not to show mislike thereof, was content only to be noted to have a notable servant. For truly one in my court nearly acquainted with him, within these few days made me Lance, and that age, which my grey hairs (only gotten by the loving care of others) make seem more than it is, hath not diminished in me the power to protect an undeniable verity. With that he bustled up himself, as though his heart would feign have walked abroad. Zelmane with an inward smiling gave him outward thanks, desiring him to reserve his force for worthier causes.   

CHAP. 16.  
¹ Phalantus and Artesias pompous entrance. ² The painted muster of an eleven conquered beauties.  
SO passing their time according to their wont, they waited for the coming of Phalantus, who the next morning having already caused his tents to be pitched, near to a fair tree hard by the Lodge, had upon the tree made a shield to be hanged up, which the defendant should strike, that would call him to the maintaining his challenged. The Impresa in the shield; was a heaven full of stars, with a speech signifying, that it was the beauty which gave it the praise.  
Himself come in next after a triumphant chariot, made of Carnation velvet enriched with pearl & peatle, wherein Artesia sat, drawn by four winged horses with artificial flaming mouths, and fiery wings, as if she had newly borrowed them of I'haebus. Before her marched, two after two; certain footmen pleasantly attired, who between them held one picture after another of them, that by Phalantus well running had lost the prize in the race of beauty, and at every pace they stayed, turning the pictures to each side, so leisurely, that with perfect judgement they might be discerned.  
The first that come in (following the order of the time argument key no. 1 wherein they had benewonne) was the picture of Andromana, Queen of Iberia; whom a Laconian Knight having sometime (and with special favour) served, (thoughsome years since returned home) with more gratefulness then good fortune defended. But therein Fortune had borrowed wit; for indeed she was not comparable to Artesia; not because she was a good deal elder (for time had not yet been able to impoverish her store thereof) but an exceeding read hair with small eyes, did (like ill companions) disgrace the other assembly of most commendable beauties.  
Next after her was borne the counterfeit of the argument key no. 2 princess of Elis, a Lady that taught the beholders no other point of beauty, but this, that as liking is, not always the child of beauty, so whatsoever liketh; is beautiful; for in that visage there was neither Majesty, grace, favour, nor fairness; yet she wanted not a servant that would have made her fairer than the fair Artesia. But he wrote her praises with his helmet in the dust, and left her picture to be as true a witness of his overthrow, as his running was of her beauty.  
After her was the goodly Artaxia, great Q. of Armenia, a Lady upon whom nature bestowed, & well placed her delightful colours; & withal, had proportioned her without any fault, quickly to be discovered by the senses, yet altogether seemed not to make up that harmony, that Cupid delights in; the reason whereof might seem a mannish countenance, which overthrew that lovely sweetness, the noblest power of womankind, far fit to prevail by parley, then by battle.  
Of a far contrary consideration was the representation of her that next followed, which was Erona Queen of Licia, who though of so brown a hair, as no man should have injuried it to have called it black, and that in the mixture of her cheeks the white did so much overcome the red (though what was, was very pure) that it come near to paleness, and that her face was a thought longer than the exact Symmetrians perhaps would allow; yet love played his part so well, in every part, that it caught hold of the judgement, before it could judge, making it first love, & after acknowledge it fair, for there was a certain delicacy, which in yielding, conquered; & with a pitiful look made one found cause to crave help himself.  
After her come two Ladies, of noble, but not of royal birth: the former was named Baccha, who though very fair, and of a fatness rather to allure, then to mislike, yet her breasts over-familiarly laid open, with a mad countenance about her mouth, between simpering & smile, her head bowed somewhat down, seemed to languish with overmuch idleness, with an inviting look cast upward, dissuading with too much persuading, while hope might seem to overcome desire.  
The other (whose name was written Leucippe) was of a fine daintiness of beauty, her face carrying in it a sober simplicity; like one that could do much good, & meant no hurt, her eyes having in them such a cheerfulness, as nature seemed to smile in them: though her mouth and cheeks obeyed that pretty demureness which the more one marks, the more one would judge the poor soul apt to believe; & therefore the more pity to deceive her.  
Next come the Queen of Laconia, one that seemed borne in the confines of beauties kingdom: for all her lineaments were neither perfect possessions thereof, nor absent strangers thereto: but she was a Queen, and therefore beautiful.  
But she that followed, conquered indeed with being conquered; & might well have made all the beholders wait upon her triumph, while herself were led captive. It was the excellently-faire Queen Helen, whose jacinth hair curled by nature, & intercurled by art (like a fine brook through golden sands) had a rope of fair pearls, which now hiding, now hidden by the hair, did as it were play at fast or lose, each with other, mutually giving & receiving riches. In her face so much beauty & favour expressed, as if Helen had not been known, some would rather have judged it the painter's exercise, to show what he could do, them counterfeiting of any living pattern: for no fault the most fault finding wit could have found, if it were not, that to the rest of the body the face was somewhat too little: but that little was such a spark of beauty, as was able to inflame a world of love. For every thing was full of a choice fineness, that if it wanted any thing in majesty, it supplied it with increase of pleasure; & if at the first it struck not admiration, it ravished with delight. And no indifferent soul there was, which if it could resist from subjecting itself to make it his princess, that would not long to have such a playfelow. As for her attire, it was costly and curious, though the look (fixed with more sadness than it seemed nature had be stowed to any that knew her fortune) bewrayed, that as she used those ornaments, not for herself, but to prevail with another, so she feared, that all would not serve.  
Of a far differing (though esteemed equal) beauty, was the fair Parthenia, who next waited on Artesias triumph, though far better she might have sit in the throne. For in her every thing was goodly, and stately; yet so, that it might seem that great-mindednes was but the ancient-bearer to humbleness. For her great grey eye, which might seem full of her own beauties, a large, and exceedingly fair forehead, with all the rest of her face and body, cast in the mould of Nobleness; was yet so attired, as might show, the mistress thought it either not to deserve, or not to need any exquisite decking, having no adorning but cleanliness; and so far from all arte, that it was full of carelessness: unless that carelessness itself (in spite of itself) grew artificial. But Basilius could not abstain from praising Parthenia, as the perfect picture of a womanly virtue, and wively faithfulness: telling withal Zelmane, how he had understood, that when in the court of Laconia, her picture (maintained by a certain Sycionian Knight) was lost, thorough want, rather of valour, than justice: her husband (the famous Argalus) would in a chafe have go and redeemed it with a new trial. But she (more sporting then sorrowing for her undeserved champion) told her husband, she desired to be beautiful in no bodies eye but his; and that she would rather mar her face as evil as ever it was, then that it should be a cause to make Argalus put on armour. Than would Basilius have told Zelmane, that which she already knew, of the rare trial of their coupled affection: but the next picture made the mouth give place to their eyes.  
It was of a young maid, which fate pulling out a thorn out of a Lamb's foot, with her look so attentive upon it, as if that little foot could have been the circle of her thoughts; her apparel so poor, as it had nothing but the inside to adorn it; a she phooke lying by her with a bottle upon it. But with all that poverty, beauty played the prince, and commanded as many hearts as the greatest Queen there did. Her beauty and her estate made her quickly to be known to be the fair shepherdess, Urania, whom a rich knight called Lacemon, far in love with her, had unluckily defended.  
The last of all in place, because last in the time of her being captive, was Zelmane, daughter to the King Plexirtus: who at the first sight seemed to have some resembling of Philoclea, but with more marking (comparing it to the present Philoclea, who indeed had no paragon but her sister) they might see, it was but such a likeness, as an unperfect glass doth give; answerable enough in some feitures, & colours, but erring in others. But Zelmane sighing, turning to Basilius, Alas sir (said she) here be some pictures which might better become the tombs of their Mistresses, than the triumph of Artesia. It is true sweetest Lady (said Basilius) some of them be dead, and some other captive: But that hath happened so late, as it may be the Knights that defended their beauty, knew not so much: without we will say (as in some hearts I know it would fall out) that death itself could not blot out the image which love hath engraven in them. But divers besides these (said Basilius) hath Phalantus won, but he leaves the rest, carrying only such, who either for greatness of estate, or of beauty, may justly glorify the glory of Artesias triumph.   

CHAP. 17.  
¹ The overthrow of five Arcadian knights. ² The young shepherds pretty challenge. ³ What passions the sixth knight's foil bred in Zelmane. ⁴ Clitophon hardly overmatched by Phalantus. ⁵ The ill arrayed, & the black knight's contention for priority agains Phalantus. ⁶ The halting knights complaint against the black knight. ⁷ Phalantus fall by the ill furnished knight. ⁸ The crosse-parting of Phalantus with Artesia, ⁹ and who the victor was.  
argument key no. 1 THus talked Basilius with Zelmane, glad to make any matter subject to speak of, with his mistress, while Phalantus in this pompous manner, brought Artesia with her gentlewomen, into one Tent, by which he had another: where they both waited who would first strike upon the shield, while Basilius the judge appointed sticklers, and trumpets, to whom the other should obey. But non that day appeared, nor the next, till already it had consumed half his allowance of light; but then there come in a knight, protesting himself as contrary to him in mind, as he was in apparel. For Phalantus was all in white, having in his bases, and caparison embroidered a waving water: at each side whereof he had nettings cast over, in which were divers fishes naturally made, & so prettily, that as the horse stirred, the fishes seemed to strive, and leap in the net.  
But the other knight, by name Nestor, by birth an Arcadian, & in affection vowed to the fair Shepherdess, was all in black, with fire burning both upon his armour, and horse. His impresa in his shield, was a fire made of juniper, with this word, Moore easy, and more sweet. But this hot knight was cooled with a fall, which at the third course he received of Phalantus, leaving his picture to keep company with the other of the same stamp; he going away remedilessly chase at his rebuke. The next was Polycetes, greatly esteemed in Arcadia, for deeds he had done in arms: and much spoken of for the honourable love he had long borne to Gynoecia; which Basilius himself was content, not only to suffer, but to be delighted with; he carried it in so honourable and open plainness, setting to his love no other mark, then to do her faithful service. But neither her fair picture, nor his fair running, could warrant him from overthrow, and her from becoming as then the last of Artesias victories: a thing Gynoecia's virtues would little have recked at another time, nor then, if Zelmane had not seen it. But her champion went away asmuch discomforted, as discomfited. Than Telamon for Polixena, & Eurimelon for Elpine, and Leon for Zoana; all brave Knights, all fair Ladies, with their going down, lifted up the balance of his praise for activity, and hers for fairness.  
Upon whose loss as the beholders were talking, argument key no. 2 there comes into the place where they ran, a shepherd stripling (for his height made him more than a boy, & his face would not allow him a man) brown of complexion plexion (whither by nature, or by the Sun's familiarity) but very lovely withal; for the rest so perfectly proportioned, that Nature showed, she doth not like men who slubber up matters of mean account. And well might his proportion be judged; for he had nothing upon him but a pair of slops, and upon his body a Gote-skinne, which he cast over his shoulder, doing all things with so pretty grace, that it seemed ignorance could not make him do amiss, because he had a heart to do well, holding in his right hand a long stasfe, & so coming with a look full of amiable fierceness, as in whom choler could not take away the sweetness, he come towards the king, and making a reverence (which in him was comely because it was kindly) My liege Lord (said he) I pray you hear a few words; for my heart will break if I say not my mind to you. I see here the picture of Urania, which (I cannot tell how, nor why) these men when they fall down, they say is not so fair as yonder gay woman. But pray God, I may never see my old mother alive, if I think she be any more match to Urania, than a Goat is to a fine Lamb; or then the Dog that keeps our flock at home, is like your white Greihounde, that pulled down the Stag last day.  
And therefore I pray you let me be dressed as they be, and my heart gives me, I shall tumble him on the earth: for indeed he might aswell say, that a Cowslip is as white as a Lily: or else I care not let him come with his great stasfe, and I with this in my hand, and you shall see what I can do to him. Basilius saw it was the fine shepherd Lalus, whom once he had afore him in Pastoral sports, and had greatly delighted in his wit full of pretty simplicity, and therefore laughing at his earnestness, he bade him be content, since he saw the pictures of so great Queens, were feign to follow their champion's fortune. But Lalus (even weeping ripe) went among the rest, longing to see some body that would revenge Urania's wrong; and praying heartily for every body that ran against Phalantus, then began to feel poverty, that he could not set himself to that trial. But by and by, even when the Sun (like a noble heart) began to show his greatest countenance in his lowest estate, there come in a Knight, called Phebilus, a Gentleman of that country, for whom hateful fortune had borrowed the dart of Love, to make him miserable by the sight of Philoclea. For he had even from her infancy loved her, and was stricken by her, before she was able to know what quiver of arrows her eyes carried; but he loved and despaired; and the more he despaired, the more he loved. He saw his own unworthiness, and thereby made her excellency have more terrible aspect upon him: he was so secret therein, as not daring to be open, that to no creature he ever spoke of it, but his heart made such silent complaints within itself, that while all his senses were attentive thereto, cunning judges might perceive his mind: so that he was known to love though he denied, or rather was the better known, because he denied it. His armour and his attire was of a Sea colour, his Impresa, the fish called Sepia, which being in the net casts a black ink about itself, that in the darkness thereof it may escape: his word was, Not so. Philoclea's picture with almost an idolatrous magnificence was borne in by him. But strength jealousy was a harbinger for disdain in Zelmane's heart, when she argument key no. 3 saw any (but herself) should be avowed a champion for Philoclea: in somuch that she wished his shame, till she saw him shamed: for at the second course he was stricken quite from out of the saddle, so full of grief, and rage withal, that he would feign with the sword have revenged it: but that being contrary to the order set down, Basilius would not suffer; so that wishing himself in the bottom of the earth, he went his way, leaving Zelmane no less angry with his los, than she would have been with his victory. For if she thought before a rivals praise would have angered her, her Lady's disgrace did make her much more forget what she then thought, while that passion reigned so much the more, as she seen a pretty blush in Philoclea's cheeks bewray a modest discontentment. But the night commanded truce for those sports, & Phalantus (though entreated) would not leave Artesia, who in no case would come into the house, having (as it were) sucked of Cecropias' breath a mortal mislike against Basilius.  
argument key no. 4 But the night measured by the short ell of sleep, was soon passed over, and the next morning had given the watchful stars leave to take their rest, when a trumpet summoned Basilius to play his judges part: which he did, taking his wife & daughters with him; Zelmane having locked her door, so as they would not trouble her for that time: for already there was a Knight in the field, ready to prove Helen of Corinth had received great injury, both by the erring judgement of the challenger, and the unlucky weakness of her former defender. The new Knight was quickly known to be Clitophon (Kaladers son of Basilius-his sister) by his armour, which all guilt, was so well handled, that it showed like a glittering sand and gravel, interlaced with silver rivers: his device he had put in the picture of Helen which he defended. It was the Ermion, with a speech that signified, Rather dead then spotted. But in that armour since he had parted from Helen (who would no longer his company, finding him to enter into terms of affection,) he had performed so honourable actions, (still seeking for his two friends by the names of Palladius and Daiphatus,) that though his face were covered, his being was discovered, which yet Basilius (which had brought him up in his court) would not seem to do; but glad to see trial of him, of whom he had heard very well, he commanded the trumpets to sounded; to which the two brave Knights obeying, they performed their courses, breaking their six staves, with so good, both skill in the hitting, & grace in the manner, that it bred some difficulty in the judgement. But Basilius in the end gave sentence against Clitophon, because Phalantus had broken more staves upon the head, & that once Clitophon had received such a blow, that he had lost the rains of his horse, with his head well nigh touching the crupper of the horse. But Clitophon was so angry with the judgement, (wherein he thought he had received wrong) that he omitted his duty to his Prince, & uncle; and suddenly went his way, still in the quest of them, whom as then he had left by seeking: & so yielded the field to the next comer.  
Who coming in about two hours after, was no argument key no. 5 less marked than all the rest before, because he had nothing worth the marking. For he had neither picture, nor device, his armour of as old a fashion (besides the rusty poorness,) that it might better seem a monument of his graundfathes' courage: about his middle he had in steed of bases, a long cloak of silk, which as unhandsomely, as it needs must, become the wearer: so that all that looked on, measured his length on the earth already, since he had to meet one who had been victorious of so many gallants. But he went on towards the shield, and with a sober grace struck it; but as he let his sword fall upon it, another Knight, all in black come rustling in, who struck the shield almost assoon as he, and so strongly, that he broke the shield in two: the ill appointed Knight (for so the beholders called him) angry with that, (as he accounted,) insolent injury to himself, hit him such a sounded blow, that they that looked on said, it well become a rude arm. The other answered him again in the same case, so that Lances were put to silence, the sword were so busy.  
But Phalantus angry of this defacing his shield, come upon the black Knight, and with the pommel of his sword set fire to his eyes, which presently was revenged, not only by the Black, but the ill appareled Knight, who disdained another should enter into his quarrel, so as, who ever saw a matachin dance to imitate fight, this was a sight that did imitate the matachin: for they being but three that fought, every one had adversaries, striking him, who struck the third, and revenging perhaps that of him, which he had received of the other. But Basilius rising himself to part them, the sticklers authority scarflie able to persuade choleric hearers; and part them he did.  
But before he could determine, comes in a fourth, argument key no. 6 halting on foot, who complained to Basilius, demanding justice on the black Knight, for having by force taken away the picture of Pamela from him, which in little form he ware in a Tablet, and covered with silk had fastened it to his Helmet, purposing for want of a bigger, to paragon the little one with Artesias length, not doubting but in that little quantity, the excellency of that would shine thorough the weakness of the other: as the smallest star do the thorough the whole Element of fire. And by the way he had met with this black Knight, who had (as he said) rob him of it. The injury seemed grievous, but when it come fully to be examined, it was found, that the halting Knight meeting the other, ask the cause of his going thetherward, and finding it was to defend Pamela's divine beauty against Artesias, with a proud jollity commanded him to leave that quarrel only for him, who was only worthy to enter into it. But the black Knight obeying no such commandments, they fell to such a bickering, that he got a halting, & lost his picture. This understood by Basilius, he told him he was now fit to look to his own body, than an others picture: & so (uncomforted therein) sent him away to learn of AEsculapius that he was not fit for Venus.  
But then the question arising who should be the former against Phalantus, of the black, or the ill appareled argument key no. 5 Knight (who now had gotten the reputation of some sturdy lout, he had so well defended himself) of the one side, was alleged the having a picture which the other wanted: of the other side, the first striking the shield; but the conclusion was, that the ill appareled Knight should have the precedence, if he delivered the figure of his mistress to Phalantus; who ask him for it, Certainly (said he) her liveliest picture, (if you could see it) is in my heart, & the best comparison I could make of her, is of the Sun & of all other the heavenly beauties. But because perhaps all eyes cannot taste the Divinity of her beauty, and would rather be dazzled, then taught by the light, if it be not clouded by some meaner thing; know you then, that I descend that same Lady, whose image Phebilus so feebly lost yesternight, and in steed of an other (if you overcome me) you shall have me your slave to carry that image in your mistress triumph. Phalantus easily agreed to the bargain, which already he made his own.  
argument key no. 7 But when it come to the trial, the ill appareled Knight choosing out the greatest staves in all the store, at the first course gave his head such a remembrance, that he lost almost his remembrance, he himself receiving the encounter of Phalantus without any extraordinary motion. And at the second gave him such a couterbusse, that because Phalantus was so perfit a horseman, as not to be driven from the saddle, the saddle with broken girths was driven from the horse: Phalantus remaining angry and amazed, because now being come almost to the last of his promised enterprise, that disgrace befell him, which he had never before known.  
argument key no. 8 But the victory being by the judges given, and the trumpets witnessed to the ill appareled Knight; Phalantus disgrace was ingrieved in am of comfort by Artesia; who telling him she never looked for other, bade him seek some other mistress. He excusing himself, and turning over the fault to Fortune, Than let that be your ill Fortune too (said she) that you have lost me.  
Nay truly Madam (said Phalantus) it shall not be so: for I think the loss of such a Mistress will prove a great gain: and so concluded; to the sport of Basilius, to see young folks love, that come in masked with so great pomp, go out with so little constancy. But Phalantus first professing great service to Basilius for his courteous intermitting his solitary course for his sake, would yet conduct Artesia to the castle of Cecropia, whither she desired to go: vowing in himself, that neither heart, nor mouth-love, should ever any more entangle him. And with that resolution he left the company.  
Whence all being dismissed (among whom the black argument key no. 9 knight went away repining at his luck, that had kept him from winning the honour, as he knew he should have done, to the picture of Pamela) the ill appareled knight (who was only desired to stay, because Basilius meant to show him to Zelmane) pulled of his Helmet, & then was known himself to be Zelmane: who that morning (as she told) while the others were busy, had stolen out, to the Prince's stable, which was a mile of from the Lodge, had gotten a horse (they knowing it was Basilius pleasure she should be obeyed) & borrowing that homely armour for want of a better, had come upon the spur to redeem Philoclea's picture, which she said, she could not bear, (being one of that little wildernesse-company) should be in captivity, if the cunning she had learned in her country of the noble Amazons, could withstand it: & under that pretext feign she would have given a secret passport to her affection. But this act painted at one instant redness in Philoclea's face, and paleness in Gynoecia's, but brought forth no other countenances but of admiration, no speeches but of commendations: all these few (besides love) thinking they honoured themselves, in honouring so accomplished a person as Zelmane: whom daily they sought with some or other sports to delight, for which purpose Basilius had in a house not far of, servants, who though they come not uncalled, yet at call were ready.   

CHAP. 18.  
¹ Musidorus disguised. ² His Song. ³ His love, ⁴ the cause thereof. ⁵ His course therein.  
ANd so many days were spent, and many ways used, while Zelmane was like one that stood in a tree waiting a good occasion to shoot, & Gynoecia a blauncher, which kept the dearest dear from her. But the day being come, which according to an appointed course, the shepherds were to assemble, & make their pastoral sports afore Basilius: Zelmane (fearing, jest many eyes, and coming divers ways, might hap to spy Musidorus) went out to warn him thereof.  
argument key no. 1 But before she could come to the Arbour, she saw walking from her-ward, a man in sheapperdish apparel who being in the sight of the Lodge it might seem he was allowed there. A long cloak he had on, but that cast under his right arm, wherein he held a shephook, so finely wrought, that it gave a bravery to poverty; & his raiments, though they were mean, yet received they hansomnes by the grace of the wearer; though he himself Musidorus disguised. self went but a kind of languishing pace, with his eyes somewhat cast up to heaven, as though his fancies strove to mount higher; sometimes thrown down to the ground, as if the earth could not bear the burdens of his sorrows; at length, with a lamentable tune, he song these few verses.  

Come shepherds weeds, become your master's mind: argument key no. 2  
Yield outward show, what inward chance he tries:  
Nor be abashed, since such a guest you find,  
Whose strongest hope in your weak comfort lies.   

Come shepherds weeds, attended my woeful cries:  
Disuse yourselves from sweet Menalcas voice:  
For other be those tunes which sorrow ties,  
From those clear notes which freely may rejoice.  
Than power out plaint, and in one word say this:  
Helpless his plaint, who spoils himself of bliss.   
And having ended, he struck himself on the breast; saying, OH miserable wretch, whither do thy destinies guide thee? The voice made Zelmane hasten her pace to overtake him: which having done, she plainly perceived that it was her dear friend Musidorus, whereat marveling not a little, she demanded of him, whither the Goddess of those woods had such a power to transform every body, or whither, as in all enterprises else he had done, he meant thus to match her in this new alteration.  
Alas, (said Musidorus) what shall I say, who am loathe argument key no. 3 to say, and yet feign would have said? I found indeed, that all is but lip-wisdome, which wants experience. I now (woe is me) do try what love can do. OH Zelmane, who will resist it, must either have no wit, or put out his eyes? can any man resist his creation? certainly by love we are made, and to love we are made. Beasts only cannot discern beauty, and let them be in the role of Beasts that do not honour it. The perfect friendship Zelmane bore him, and the great pity she (by good trial) had of such cases, could not keep her from smiling at him, remembering how vehemently he had cried out against the folly of lovers. And therefore a little to punish him, Why how now dear cousin (said she) you that were last day so high in Pulpit against lovers, are you now become so mean an auditor? Remember that love is a passion; and that a worthy man's reason must ever have the masterhood. I recant, I recant (cried Masidorus,) and withal falling down prostrate, OH thou celestial, or infernal spirit of Love, or what other heavenvly or hellish title thou list to have (for effects of both I find in myself) have compassion of me, and let thy glory be as great in pardoning them that be submitted to thee, as in conquering those that were rebellious. Not, no said Zelmane, I see you well enough: you make but an interlude of my mishaps, and do but counterfeit thus, to make me see the deformity of my passions: but take heed, that this jest do not one day turn to earnest. Now I beseech thee (said Musidorus taking her fast by the hand) even for the truth of our friendship, of which (if I be not altogether an unhappy man) thou hast some remembrance, & by those sacred flames which (I know) have likewise nearly touched thee; make no jest of that, which hath so earnestly pierced me thorough, nor let that be light to thee, which is to me so burdenous, that I am not able to bear it. Musidorus both in words & behaviour, did so lively deliver out his inward grief, that Zelmane found indeed, he was thoroughly wounded: but there rose a new iclousy in her mind, jest it might be with Philoclea, by whom, as Zelmane thought, in right all hearts and eyes should be inherited. And therefore desirous to be cleared of that doubt, Musidorus shortly (as in haste and full of passionate perplexednes,) thus recounted his case unto her.  
The day (said he) I parted from you, I being in mind argument key no. 4 to return to a town, from whence I come hither, my horse being before tired, would scarce bear me a mile hence: where being benighted, the light of a candle (I seen a good way of) guided me to a young shepherds house, by name Menalcas, who sing me to be a straying stranger, with the right honest hospitality which seems to be harboured in the Arcadian breasts, & though not with curious costliness, yet with cleanly sufficiency, entertained me: and having by talk with him, found the manner of the country, something more in particular, than I had by Kalander's report, I agreed to sojourn with him in secret, which he faithfully promised to observe. And so hither to your arbour divers times repaired: & here by your means had the sight (OH that it had never been so, nay, OH that it might ever be so) of a Goddess, who in a definite compass can set forth infinite beauty. All this while Zelmane was racked with jealousy. But he went on, For (said he) I lying close, and in truth thinking of you, and saying thus to myself, OH sweet Pyrocles, how art thou bewitched? where is thy virtue? where is the use of thy reason? how much am I inferior to thee in the state of the mind? And yet know I, that all the heavens cannot bring me to such thraldom. Scarcely, think I, had I spoken this word, when the Ladies come forth; at which fight, I think the very words returned back again to strike my soul; at lest, an unmeasurable sting I felt in myself, that I had spoken such words. At which sight? said Zelmane, not able to bear him any longer. OH (said Musidorus) I know your suspicion; Not, not, banish all such fear, it was, it is, and must be Pamela Than all is safe (said Zelmane) proceed, dear Musidorus. I will not (said he) impute it to my late solitary life (which yet is prove to affections) nor, to the much thinking of you (though that called the consideration of love into my mind, which before I ever neglected) nor to the exaltation of Venus; nor revenge of Cupid; but even to her, who is the Planet, nay, the Goddess, against which, the only shield must be my Sepulchre. When I first seen her, I was presently stricken, and I (like a foolish child, that when any thing hits him, will strike himself again upon it) would needs look again; as though I would persuade my eyes, that they were deceived. But alas, well have I found, that Love to a yielding heart is a king; but to a resisting, is a tyrant. The more with arguments I shaked the stake, which he had planted in the ground of my heart, the deeper still it sank into it. But what mean I to speak of the causes of my love, which is as impossible to describe, as to measure the backside of heaven? Let this word suffice, I love.  
argument key no. 5 And that you may know I do so, it was I that come in black armour to defend her picture, where I was both prevented, and beaten by you. And so, I that waited here to do you service, have now myself most need of succour. But whereupon got you yourself this apparel? said Zelmane. I had forgotten to tell you (said Musidorus) though that were one principal matter of my speech; so much am I now master of my own mind. But thus it happened: being returned to Menalcas house, full of tormenting desire, after a while fainting under the weight, my courage stirred up my wit to seek for some releese, before I yielded to perish. At last this come into my head, that very evening, that I had to no purpose last used my horse and armour. I told Menalcas, that I was a Thessalian Gentleman, who by mischance having killed a great favourite of the Prince of that country, was pursued so cruelly, that in no place, but either by favour, or corruption, they would obtain my destruction; and that therefore I was determined (till the fury of my persecutions might be assuaged) to disguise myself among the shephadrs of Arcadia, & (if it were possible) to be one of them that were allowed the Prince's presence; Because if the worst should fall, that I were discovered, yet having gotten the acquaintance of the Prince, it might happen to move his heart to protect me. Menalcas (being of an honest disposition) pitied my case, which my face through my inward torment made credible; and so (I giving him largely for it) let me have this raiment, instructing me in all the particularities, touching himself, or myself, which I desired to know: yet not trusting so much to his constancic, as that I would lay my life, and life of my life, upon it, I hired him to go into Thessalia to a friend of my, & to deliver him a letter from me; conjuring him to bring me as speedy an answer as he could, because it imported me greatly to know, whither certain of my friends did yet possess any favour, whose intercessions I might use for my restitution. He willingly took my letter, which being well sealed, indeed contained other matter. For I wrote to my trusty servant Calodoulus (whom you know) that assoon as he had delivered the letter, he should keep him prisoner in his house, not suffering him to have conference with any body, till he knew my further pleasure: in all other respects that he should use him as my brother. And thus is Menalcas go, and I here a poor shepherd; more proud of this estate, than of any kingdom: so manifest it is, that the highest point outward things can bring one unto, is the contentment of the mind: with which, no estate; without which, all estates be miserable. Now have I chosen this day, because (as Menalcas told me) the other shepherds are called to make their sports, and hope that you will with your credit, find means to get me allowed among them. You need not doubt (answered Zelmane) but that I will be your good mistress: marry the best way of dealing must be by Dam, who since his blunt brain hath perceived some favour the Prince doth bear unto me (as without doubt the most servile flattery is lodged most easily in the grossest capacity; for their ordinary conceit draweth a yielding to their greater's, and then have they not wit to learn the right degrees of duty) is much more serviceable unto me, than I can find any cause to wish him. And therefore despair not to win him: for every present occasion will catch his senses, and his senses are masters of his silly mind; only reverence him, and reward him, and with that bridle and saddle you shall well ride him. OH heaven and earth (said Musidorus) to what a pass are our minds brought, that from the right line of virtue, are wried to these crooked shifts? But o Love, it is thou that dost it: thou changest name upon name; thou disguisest our bodies, and disfigurest our minds. But in deed thou hast reason, for though the ways be soul, the journeys end is most fair and honourable.   

CHAP. 19  
¹ The means of Musidorus his apprentisage unto Dam. ² The preparation and place of the Pastorals. ³ The lions assault oh Philoclea, and death by Zelmane. ⁴ The she bears on Pamela, and death by Dorus. ⁵ The Io Paean of Dam, ⁶ and his escape from the bear. ⁷ The victor's praises. ⁸ Whence those beasts were sent.  
NOT more sweet Musidorus (said Zelmane) argument key no. 1 of these philosophies; for here comes the very person of Dam. And so he did in deed, with a sword by his side, a forrest-bill on his neck, and a chopping-knife under his girdle: in which provided sort he had ever go, since the fear Zelmane had put him in. But he no sooner saw her, but with head and arms he laid his reverence afore her; enough to have made any man forswear all courtesy. And then in Basilius name, he did invite her to walk down to the place, where that day they were to have the Pastorals.  
But when he spied Musidorus to be noon of the shepherds allowed in that place, he would feign have persuaded himself to utter some anger, but that he durst not; yet muttering, and champing, as though his cud troubled him; he gave occasion to Musidorus to come near him, and feign this tale of his own life: That he was a younger brother of the shepherd Menalcas, by name Dorus, sent by his father in his tender age to Athens, there to learn some cunning more than ordinary, that he might be the better liked of the Prince: and that after his father's death, his brother Menalcas (lately go thither to fetch him home) was also deceased: where (upon his death) he had charged him to seek the service of Dam, and to be wholly, and ever guided by him; as one in whose judgement and integrity, the Prince had singular confidence. For token where of; he gave to Dam a good fumme of gold in ready coin, which Menelcas had bequeathed unto him, upon condition he should receive this poor Dorus into his service, that his mind and manner might grow the better by his daily example. Dam, that of all manners of style could, best conceive of golden eloquence, being withal tickled by Musidorus praises, had his brain so turned, that he become slave to that, which he, that showed to be his servant, offered to give him: yet for countenance sake, he seemed very squeimish, in respect of the charge he had of the Princess Pamela. But such was the secret operation of the gold, helped with the persuasion of the Amazon Zelmane, (who said it was pity so handsome a young man should be any where else, then with so good a master) that in the end he agreed (if that day he behaved himself so to the liking of Basilius, as he might be contented) that then he would receive him into his service.  
And thus went they to the Lodge, where they found argument key no. 2 Gynoecia and her daughters ready to go to the field, to delight themselves there a while, until the shepherds coming: whither also taking Zelmane with them, as they went, Dam told them of Dorus, and desired he might be accepted there that day, in steed of his brother Menalcas. As for Basilius, he staicd behind to bring the shepherds, with whom he meant to confer, to breed the better Zelmane's liking (which he only regarded) while the other beautiful band come to the fair field, appointed for the shepherdish pastimes. It was indeed a place of delight; for thorough the midst of it, there ran a sweet brook, which did both hold the eye open with her azure streams, & yet seek to close the eye with the purling noise it made upon the pibble stones it ran over: the field itself being set in some places with roses, & in all the rest constantly preserving a flourishing green; the Roses added such a ruddy show unto it, as though the field were bashful at his own beauty: about it (as if it had been to enclose a Theatre) grew such a sort of trees, as either excellency of fruit, stateliness of growth, continual greenness, or poetical fancies have made at any time famous. In most part of which there had been framed by art such pleasant arbours, that (one tree to tree, answering another) they become a gallery aloft from almost round about, which below gave a perfect shadow, a pleasant refuge then from the choleric look of Phoebus.  
In this place while Gynoecia walked hard by them, carrying argument key no. 3 many unquiet contentions about her, the Ladies sat them down, enquiring many questions of the shepherd Dorus; who (keeping his eye still upon Pamela) answered with such a trembling voice, & abashed countenance, & oftentimes so far from the matter, that it was some sport to the young Ladies, thinking it want of education, which made him so discountenaunced with unwonted presence. But Zelmane that seen in him the glass of her own misery, taking the hand of Philoclea, and with burning kisses setting it close to her lips (as if it should stand there like a hand in the margin of a Book, to note some saying worthy to be marked) began to speak these words. OH Love, since thou art so changeable in men's estates, how art thou so constant in their torments? when suddenly there come out of a wood a monstrous Lion, with a she Bear not far from him, of little less fierceness, which (as they guest) having been hunted in Forests far of, were by chance come thither, where before such beasts had never been seen. Than care, not fear; or fear, not for themselves, altered some thing the countenances of the two Lovers, but so, as any man might perceive, was rather an assembling of powers, than dismaiednes of courage. Philoclea no sooner espied the Lion, but that obeying the commandment of fear, she leapt up, & ran to the lodge-ward, as fast as her delicate legs could carry her, while Dorus drew Pamela behind a tree, where she stood quaking like the Partridge, on which the Hawk is even ready to seize. But the Lion (sing Philoclea run away) bent his race to her-ward, & was ready to seize himself on the pray, when Zelmane (to whom danger then was a cause of dreadlesnes, all the compositions of her elements being nothing but fiery) with swiftness of desire crossed him, and with force of affection struck him such a blow upon his chine, that she opened all his body: wherewith the valiant beast turning upon her with open jaws, she gave him such a thrust thorough his breast, that all the Lion could do, was with his paw to tear of the mantle and sleeve of Zelmane, with a little scratch, rather than a wound; his death-blow having taken away the effect of his force. But there withal he fell down, & gave Zelmane leisure to take of his head, to carry it for a present to her Lady Philoclea: who all this while (not knowing what was done behind her) kept on her course, like Arethusa when she ran from Alpheus; her light apparel being carried up with the wind, that much of those beauties she would at another time have willingly hidden, was present to the sight of the twice wounded Zelmane. Which made Zelmane not follow her over hastily, jest she should too soon deprive herself of that pleasure: But carrying the Lion's head in her hand, did not fully overtake her, till they come to the presence of Basilius. Neither were they long there, but that Gynoecia come thither also: who had been in such a trance of musing, that Zelmane was fight with the Lion, before she knew of any Lions coming: but then affection resisting, and the soon ending of the fight preventing all extremity of fear, she marked Zelmane's fight. And when the Lion's head was of, as Zelmane ran after Philoclea, so she could not found in her heart but run after Zelmane: so that it was a new sight, Fortune had prepared to those woods, to see these great personages thus run one after the other: each carried forward with an inward violence: Philoclea with such fear, that she thought she was still in the Lion's mouth: Zelmane with an eager and impatient delight, Gynecioae with wings of Love, flying they neither knew, nor cared to know whither. But now, being all come before Basilius amazed with this sight, and fear having such possession in, the fair Philoclea, that her blood durst not yet to come to her face, to take away the name of paleness from hec most pure whiteness, Zelmane kneeled down, and presented the Lion's head unto her. Only Lady (said she) here see you the punishment of that unnatural beast, which contrary to her own kind would have wronged Princes blood, guided with such traitorous eyes, as durst rebel against your beauty. Happy am I, and my beauty both (answered the sweet Philoclea then blushing, for fear had bequeathed his room to his kinsman bashfulness) that you excellent Amazon, were there to teach him good manners. And even thanks to that beauty (answered Zelmane) which can give an edge to the bluntest sword? There Philoclea told her father, how it had happened: but as she had turned her eyes in her tale to Zelmane, she perceived some blood upon Zelmane's shoulder, so that starting with the lovely grace of pity, she showed it to her Father and mother: who, as the nurse sometimes with overmuch kissing may forget to give the babe suck, so had they with too much delighting, in beholding and praising Zelmane, left of to mark whither she needed secure. But than they ran both unto her, like a father and mother to an only child, and (though Zelmane assured them, it was nothing) would needs see it; Gynoecia having skill in surgery, an art in those days much esteemed, because it served to virtuous courage, which even Ladies would (even with the contempt of courage) seem to cherish. But looking upon it (which gave more inward bleeding wounds to Zelmane, for she might sometimes feel Philoclea's touch, whiles she helped her mother) she found it was indeed of no great importance: yet applied she a precious balm unto it, of power to heal a greater grief.  
But even then, & not before, they remembered Pamela, argument key no. 4 & therefore Zelmane (thinking of her friend Dorus) was running back to be satisfied, when they might all see Pamela coming between Dorus & Dam, having in her hand the paw of a Bear, which the shepherd Dorus had newly presented unto her, desiring her to accept it, as of such a beast, which though she deserved death for her presumption, yet was her will to be esteemed, since she could make so sweet a choice. Dam for his part come piping and dancing, the merriest man in a parish. But when he come so near, as he might be heard of Basilius, he would needs break thorough his ears with this joyful song of their good success.  

NOw thanked be the great God Pan, argument key no. 5  
which thus preserves my loved life:  
Thanked be I that keep a man,  
who ended hath this fearful strife:  
For if my man must praises have,  
what then must I that keep the knave?   

For as the Moon the eyes doth please,  
with gentle beams not hurting sight:  
Yet hath sir Sun the greatest praise,  
because from him doth come her light:  
So if my man must praises have,  
what then must I that keep the knave?   
argument key no. 4 Being all now come together, & all desirous to know each others adventures, Pamela's noble heart would needs gratefully make known the valiant mean of her safety: which (directing her speech to her mother) she did in this manner. As soon (said she) as ye were all run away, and that I hoped to be in safety, there come out of the same woods a soul horrible Bear, which (fearing belike to deal while the Lion was present, as soon as he was go) come furiously towards the place where I was, and this yowg shepherd left alone by me; I truly (not guilty of any wisdom, which since they lay to my charge, because they say, it is the best refuge against that beast, but even pure fear bringing forth that effect of wisdom) fell down flat of my face, needing not counterfeit being dead, for indeed I was little better. But this shepherd having no other weapon, but that knife you see, standing before the place where I lay, so behaved himself, that the first sight I had (when I thought myself nearer Charon's ferry,) was the shepherd showing me his bloody knife in token of victory. I pray you (said Zelmane, speaking to Dorus, whose valour she was careful to have manifested) in what sort, so ill weaponed, could you achieve this enterprise? Noble Lady (said Dorus) the manner of these beasts fight with any man, is to stand up upon their hinder feet: and so this did, & being ready to give me a shrewd embracement, I think, the God Pan, (ever careful of the chief blessings of Arcadia) guided my hand so just to the heart of the beast, that neither she could once touch me, nor (which is the only matter in this worthy remembrance) breed any danger to the Princess. For my part, I am rather (withal subjecteth humbleness) to thank her excellencies, since the duty thereunto gave me heart to save myself, then to receive thanks for a deed, which was her only inspiring. And this Dorus spoke, keeping affection as much as he could, back from coming into his eyes and gestures. But Zelmane (that had the same Character in her heart) could easily discern it, and therefore to keep him the longer in speech, desired to understand the conclusion of the matter; and how the honest Dam was escaped.  
Nay (said Pamela) noon shall take that office from argument key no. 6 myself, being so much bound to him as I am, for my education. And with that word (scorn borrowing the countenance of mirth) somewhat she smiled, and thus spoke on: When (said she) Dorus made me assuredly perceive, that all cause of fear was passed (the truth is) I was ashamed to find myself alone with this shepherd: and therefore looking about me, if I could see any body; at length we both perceived the gentle Dam, lying with his breast and head as far as he could thrust himself into a bush: drawing up his legs as close unto him as he could: for, like a man of a very kind nature, soon to take pity of himself, he was full resolved not to see his own death. And when this shepherd pushed him, bidding him to be of good cheer, it was a good while, ere we could persuade him, that Dorus was not the bear: so that he was feign to pull him out by the heels, & show him the beast, as dead as he could wish it: which you may believe me, was a very joyful sight unto him. But than he forgot all courtesy, for he fell upon the beast, giving it many a manful wound: swearing by much, it was not well such beasts should be suffered in a common wealth. And then my governor, as full of joy, as before of fear, come dancing and singing before us as even now you seen him. Well well (said Basilius) I have not chosen Dam for his fight, nor for his discoursing, but for his plainness and honesty, and therein I know he will not deceive me.  
argument key no. 7 But than he told Pamela (not so much because she should know it, as because he would tell it) the wonderful act Zelmane had performed, which Gynoecia likewise spoke off, both in such extremity of praising, as was easy to be seen, the constructions of their speech. might best be made by the Grammar rules of affection. Basilius told with what a gallant grace she ran with the lions head in her hand, like another Pallas with the spoils of Gorgon. Gynoecia swore, she saw the face of the young Hercules kill the Nemean Lion, & all with a grateful assent confirmed the same praises: only poor Dorus (though of equal desert, yet not proceeding of equal estate) should have bene left forgotten, had not Zelmane again with great admiration, begun to speak of him; ask, whither it were the fashion or not, in Arcadia, that shepherds should perform such valorous enterprises. This Basilius (having the quick sense of a lover) took, as though his Mistress had given a secret reprehension, that he had not showed more gratefulness to Dorus; and therefore (as nymblie as he could) inquired of his estate, adding promise of great rewards: among the rest, offering to him, if he would exercise his courage in soldiery, he would commit some charge unto him under his Lieutenant Philanax. But Dorus (whose ambition climbed by another stair) having first answered touching his estate, that he was brother to the shepherd Menalcas; who among other, was wont to resort to the Prince's presence, & excused his going to soldiery, by the unaptness he found in himself that way: he told Basilius, that his brother in his last testament had willed him to serve Dam; and therefore (for due obedience thereunto) he would think his service greatly rewarded, if he might obtain by that mean to live in the sight of his Prince, and yet practise his own chosen vocation. Basilius (liking well his goodly shape and handsome manner) charged Dam to receive him like a son into his house: saying, that his valour, and Dam truth would be good bulwarks against such mischiefs, as (he sticked not to say) were threatened to his daughter Pamela.  
Dam, no whit out of countenance with all that argument key no. 2 had been said (because he had no worse to fall into then his own) accepted Dorus: and with all, telling Basilius, that some of the shepherds were come; demanded in what place he would see their sports: who first curious to know whither it were not more requisite for Zelmane's hurt to rest, then sit up at those pastimes; and she (that felt no wound but one) earnestly desiring to have Pastorals, Basilius commanded it should be at the gate of the lodge: where the throne of the Prince being (according to the ancient manner) he made Zelmane sit between him & his wife therein, who thought herself between drowning and burning: and the two young Ladies of either side the throne, and so prepared their eyes and ears to be delighted by the shepherds.  
But before all of them were assembled to begin their argument key no. 8 sports, there come a fellow, who being out of breath (or seeming so to be for haste) with humble hastiness told Basilius, that his Mistress, the Lady Cecropia, had sent him to excuse the mischance of her beasts ranging in that dangerous fort, being happened by the folly of the keeper; who thinking himself able to rule them, had carried them abroad, & so was deceived: whom yet (if Basilius would punish for it) she was ready to deliver. Basilius made no other answer, but that his Mistress if she had any more such beasts, should 'cause them to be killed: and then he told his wife & Zelmane of it, because they should not fear those woods; as though they harboured such beasts, where the like had never been seen. But Cynccia took a further conceit of it, mistrusting Cecropia, because she had heard much of the devilish wickedness of her heart, and that particularly she did her best to bring up her son Amphialus (being brother's son to Basilius) to aspire to the crown, as next heir male after Basilius; and therefore seen no reason, but that she might conjecture, it proceeded rather of some mischievous practice, than of misfortune. Yet did she only utter her doubt to her daughters, thinking, since the worst was past, she would attended a further occasion, lest over much haste might seem to proceed of the ordinary mislike between sisters in Law: only they marveled, that Basilius looked no further into it; who (good man) thought so much of his late conceived common wealth, that all other matters were but digressions unto him. But the shepherds were ready, and with well handling themselves, called their senses to attended their pastimes.   

The first Eclogues.  
BASILIUS, because Zelmane so would have it, used the artificial day of torches, to lighten the sports their inventions could minister. And yet because many more shepherds were newly come, then at the first; he did in a gentle manner chastise the cowardice of the fugitive shepherds: with making them (for that night) the Torchbearers, and the others later come, he willed with all freedom of speech and behaviour, to keep their accustomed method. Which while they prepared to do, Dam, who much disdained (since his late authority) all his old companions, brought his servant Dorus in good acquaintance and allowance of them; & himself stood like a director over them, with nodding, gaping, winking, or stamping showing how he did like, or mislike those things he did not understand. The first sport's the shepherds showed, were full of such leaps & gambols, as being accorded to the Pipe (which they bore in their mouths, even as they danced) made a right picture of their chief god Pan, and his companions the satires. Than would they cast away their Pipes; and holding hand in hand, dance as it were in a brawl, by the only cadence of their voices, which they would use in singing some short coplets, whereto the one half beginning, the other half should answer. As the one half saying, 
We love, and have our loves rewarded.  The others would answer. 
We love, and are no whit regarded.  The first again. 
We find most sweet affections snare , With like tune it should be as in choir sent back again. 
That sweet, but sour despairful care.  A third time likewise thus: 
Who can despair, whom hope doth bear?  The answer. 
And who can hope, that feels despair?  Than all joining their voices, and dancing a faster measure, they would conclude with some such words:  

As without breath, no pipe doth move,  
No music kindly without love.   
Having thus varied both their songs and dances into divers sorts of inventions; their last sport was one of them to provoke another to a more large expressing of his passions: which Lalus (accounted one of the best singers amongst them) having marked in Dorus dancing, no less good grace & handsome behaviour, then extreme tokens of a traveled mind; began first with his Pipe, and then with his voice, thus to challenge Dorus, and was by him answered in the underwritten sort.  Lalus and Dorus. Lalus. 

Come Dorus, come, let songs thy sorrows signify:  
And if for want of use thy mind ashamed is,  
That very shame with loves high title dignify.  
No style is held for base, where Love well named is:  
Each ear sucks up the words, a true love scattereth,  
And plain speech often, then acquaint phrase, better framed is.   Dorus. 

Nightingales seldom sing, the Pie still chattercth:  
The wood cries most, before it thoroughly kindled be,  
Deadly wounds inward bleed, each flight sore mattereth.  
Hardly they heard, which by good hunters singled be.  
Shallow brooks murmur most, deep silent slide away;  
Nor true love loves those loves with others mingled be.   Lalus. 

If thou wilt not be seen, thy face go hide away,  
Be noon of us, or else maintain our fashion:  
Who frowns at other feasts, doth better bide away.  
But if thou hast a Love, in that loves passion,  
I challenge thee by show of her perfection,  
Which of us two deseructh most compassion.   Dorus. 

Thy challenge great, but greater my protection:  
Sing then, and see (for now thou hast inflamed me)  
Thy health too mean a match for my infection.  
Not, though the heavens for high attempts have blamed me,  
Yet high is my attempt. OH Muse historisie  
Her praise, whose praise to learn your skill hath framed me.   Lalus. 

Muse hold your peace: but thou, my God Pan, glorify  
My Kalas gifts: who with all good gifts filled is.  
Thy pipe, o Pan, shall help, though I sing sorilie.  
A heap of sweets she is, where nothing spilt is;  
Who though she be no be, yet full of honey is:  
A Lily field, with plough of Rose which tilled is.  
Mild as a Lamb, more dainty than a Conie is:  
Her eyes my eyesight is, her conversation  
Moore glad to me, then to a miser money is.  
What coy account she makes of estimation?  
How nice to touch? how all her speeches peized be?   A Nymph thus turned, but mended in translation. Dorus. 

Such Kala is: but ah, my fancies raised be  
In one, whose name to name were high presumption,  
Since virtues all, to make her title, pleased be.  
OH happy Gods, which by inward assumption  
Enjoy her soul, in bodies fair possession,  
And keep it joined, searing your seats consumption.  
How often with rain of tears skies make confession,  
Their dwellers rapt with sight of her perfection  
From heavenly throne to her heaven use digression?  
Of best things then what world can yield confection  
To liken her? Deck yours with your comparison:  
She is herself, of best things the collection.   Lalus. 

How often my doleful Sire cried to me, tarry son  
When first he spied my love? how often he said to me,  
Thou art no soldier fit for Cupid's garrison?  
My son, keep this, that my long toil hath laid to me:  
Love well thy own: me thinks, wools whiteness passeth all:  
I never found long love such wealth hath paid to me.  
This wind he spent: but when my Kala glasseth all  
My sight in her fair limbs, I then assure myself,  
Not rotten sheep, but high crowns she surpasseth all.  
Can I be poor, that her gold hair procure myself?  
Want I white wool, whose eyes her white skin garnished?  
Till I get her, shall I to keep enure myself?   Dorus. 

How often, when reason seen, love of her harnessed  
With armour of my heart, he cried, OH vanity,  
To set a pearl in steel so meanly varnished?  
Look to thyself; reach not beyond humanity:  
Her mind, beams, state far from thy weak wings banished:  
And Love, which lover hurts is inhumanity.  
Thus Reason said: but she come, Reason vanished;  
Her eyes so mastering me, that such objection  
Seemed but to spoil the food of thoughts long famished.  
Her peerless height my mind to high erection  
Draws up; and if hope-fayling end lives pleasure,  
Of fairer death how can I make election?   Lalus. 

Once my well-waiting eyes espied my treasure,  
With sleeves turned up, lose hair, and breast enlarged,  
Her father's corn (moving her fair limbs) measure.  
OH cried I, of so mean work be discharged:  
Measure my case, how by thy beauties filling  
With seed of woes my heart brim-full is charged.  
Thy father bids thee save, and chides for spilling.  
Save then my soul, spill not my thoughts well heaped,  
Not lovely praise was ever got by kill.  
These bold words she did hear, this fruit I reaped,  
That she, whose look alone might make me blessed,  
Did smile on me, and then away she leapt.   Dorus. 

Once, o sweet once, I seen with dread oppressed  
Her whom I dread; so that with prostrate lying  
Her length the earth in loves chief clothing dressed.  
I seen that riches fall, and fell a crying;  
Let not dead earth enjoy so dear a cover,  
But deck therewith my soul for your sake dying.  
Lay all your fear upon your fearful lover:  
Shine eyes on me, that both our lives be guarded;  
So I your sight, you shall yourselves recover.  
I cried, and was with open rays rewarded:  
But strait they fled, summoned by cruel honour,  
Honour, the cause, desert is not regarded.   Lalus. 

This maid, thus made for joys, o Pan bemoan her,  
That without love she spends her years of love:  
So fair a field would well become an owner.  
And if enchantment can a hard heart move,  
Teach me what circle may acquaint her spirit,  
Affections charms in my behalf to prove.  
The circle is my (round about her) sight:  
The power I will invoke dwells in her eyes:  
My charm should be, she haunt me day and night.   Dorus. 

far other care, o Muse, my sorrowtries,  
Bend to such one, in whom, myself must say,  
Nothing can mend that point that in her lies.  
What circle then in so rare force bears sway?  
Whose spirit all spirits can spoil, raise, damn, or save:  
Not charm holds her, but well possess she may;  
Possess she doth, and makes my soul her slave:  
My eyes the bands, my thoughts the fatal knot.  
Not thralls like them that inward bondage have.   Lalus. 

Kala at length conclude my lingering lot:  
Disdain me not, although I be not fair.  
Who is an heir of many hundred sheep  
Doth beauties keep, which never Sun can burn,  
Nor storms do turn: fairness serves often to wealth.  
Yet all my health I place in your goodwill.  
Which if you will (o do) bestow on me,  
Such as you see, such still you shall me find.  
Constant and kind: my sheep your food shall breed,  
Their wool your weed, I will you Music yield  
In flowery field; and as the day gins  
With twenty gins we will the small birds take,  
And pastimes make, as Nature things hath made.  
But when in shade we meet of myrtle bows,  
Than Love allows, our pleasures to enrich,  
The thought of which doth pass all worldly pelf.   Dorus. 

Lady yourself, whom neither name I dare,  
And titles are but spots to such a worth,  
Hear plaints come forth from dungeon of my mind.  
The noblest kind rejects not others woes.  
I have no shows of wealth: my wealth is you,  
My beauties hew your beams, my health your deeds;  
My mind for weeds your virtues livery wears.  
My food is tears; my tunes waymenting yield:  
Despair my field; the flowers spirits wars:  
My day nerve cares; my gins my daily sight,  
In which do light small birds of thoughts o'erthrown:  
My pastimes noon: time passeth on my fall:  
Nature made all, but me of do lours made:  
I find no shade, but where my Sun doth burn:  
Not place to turn; without, within it fries:  
Nor help by life or death who living dies.   Lalus. 

But if my Kala this my svite denies,  
Which so much reason bears,  
Let crows pick out my eyes, which seen too much:  
If still her mind be such,  
My earthy mould will melt in watery tears.   Dorus. 

My earthy mould doth melt in watery tears,  
And they again resolve  
To air of sighs, sighs to the hearts fire turn,  
Which doth to ashes burn:  
So doth my life within itself dissolve,   Lalus. 

So doth my life within itself dissolve,  
That I am like a flower  
New plucked from the place where it did breed,  
Life showing, dead indeed:  
Such force hath Love above poor Nature's power.   Dorus. 

Such force hath Love above poor Nature's power,  
That I grow like a shade,  
Which being naught seems somewhat to the eyen,  
While that one body shine.  
O he is marred that is for others made.   Lalus. 

O he is marred that is for others made.  
Which thought doth mar my piping declaration,  
Thinking how it hath marred my shepherds trade.  
Now my hoarse voice doth fail this occupation,  
And others long to tell their loves condition:  
Of singing take to thee the reputation.   Dorus. 

Of singing take to thee the reputation  
New friend of my; I yield to thy ability:  
My soul doth seek another estimation.  
But ah my Muse I would thou hadst agility,  
To work my Goddess so by thy invention,  
On me to cast those eyes, where shine nobility.  
Seen, and unknown; heard, but without attention.   
THis Eclogue betwixt Lalus & Dorus, of every one of the beholders received great commendations. When Basilius called to a young shepherd, who neither had danced nor song with them, but lain all this while upon the ground at the foot of a cypress tree, in so deep a melancholy, as though his mind were banished from the place he loved, to be in prison in his body: & desired him he would begin some Eclogue, with some other of the shepherds, according to the accustomed guise: or else declare the discourse of his own fortune, unknown to him; as being a stranger in that country. But he prayed the King to pardon him, the time being far too joyful to suffer the rehearsal of his miseries. Yet, to satisfy Basilius some way, he sang this song, he had learned before he had subjecteth his thoughts to acknowledge no master, but a mistress.  

AS I my little flock on Ister bank  
(A little flock; but well my pipe they couth)  
Did piping lead, the Sun already sank  
Beyond our world, and ere I got my boothe  
Each thing with mantle black the night doth scothe;  
Saving the glow worm, which would courteous be  
Of that small light often watching shepherds see.   

The welkin had full niggardly enclosed  
In coffer of dim clouds his silver groats,  
Icleped stars; each thing to rest disposed:  
The caves were full, the mountains void of goats:  
The birds eyes closed closed their chirping notes.  
As for the Nightingale woodmusiques' King,  
It August was, he deigned not then to sing.   

Amid my sheep, though I saw naught to fear  
Yet (for I nothing saw) I scared sore;  
Than fond I which thing is a charge to bear  
As for my sheep I dradded much more  
Than ever for myself since I was boar:  
I sat me down: for see to go ne could,  
And sang unto my sheep jest stray they should.   

The song I sang old Lanquet had me taught,  
Lanquet, the shepherd best swift Ister knew,  
For clerkly reed, and hating what is nought,  
For faithful heart, clean hands, and mouth as true:  
With his sweet skill my skilless youth he drew,  
To have a feeling taste of him that sits  
Beyond the heaven, far more beyond your wits.   

He said, the Music best thilk powers pleased  
Was jump concord between our wit and will:  
Where highest notes to godliness are raised,  
And lowest sink not down to jot of ill:  
With old true tales he wont my ears to fill,  
How shepherds did of yore, how now they thrive,  
Spoiling their flock, or while twixt the they strive.   

He liked me, but pitied lustful youth:  
His good strong staff my slippery years upbore:  
He still hoped well, because he loved truth;  
Till forced to part, with heart and eyes even sore,  
To worthy Coriden he gave me over.  
But thus in oaks true shade recounted he  
Which now in nights deep shade sheep heard of me.   

Such manner time there was (what time I n'ot)  
When all this Earth, this dam or mould of ours  
Was only woned with such as beasts begot:  
Unknown as then were they that builded towers:  
The cattle wild, or tame, in nature's bowers  
Might freely room, or rest, as seemed them:  
Man was not man their dwellings in to hem.   

The beasts had sure some beastly policy:  
For nothing can endure where order n'is.  
For once the Lion by the Lamb did lie;  
The fearful Hind the Leopard did kiss:  
Hurtless was tigers paw and Serpents hiss.  
This think I well, the beasts with courage clad  
Like Senators a harmless empire had.   

At which whither the otbers did repined,  
(For envy harbreth most in feeblest hearts)  
Or that they all to changing did incline,  
(As even in beasts their dames leave changing parts)  
The multitude to jove a svite empartes,  
With neighing, blaying, braying, and barking,  
Roaring, and howling for to have a King.   

A King, in language theirs they said they would:  
(For then their language was a perfect speech)  
The birds likewise with chirpes, and puing could  
Cackling, and chattering, that of jove beseech.  
Only the owl still warned them not to seech  
So hastily that which they would repent:  
But saw they would, and he to deserts went.   

JOVE wisely said (for wisdom wisely says)  
OH beasts, take heed what you of me desire.  
Rulers will think all things made them to please,  
And soon forget the swincke due to their hire.  
But since you will, part of my heavenly fire  
I will you lend; the rest yourselves must give,  
That it both seen and felt may with you live.   

Full glad they were and took the naked spirit,  
Which strength the Earthy clothed in his clay:  
The Lion, heart; the Ounce gave active might;  
The Horse, good shape; the Sparrow, lust to play;  
Nightingale, voice, enticing songs to say.  
Elephant gave a perfect memory:  
And Parot, ready tongue, that to apply.   

The Fox gave craft; the Dog gave flattery;  
Ass, patience; the Mole, a working thought;  
Eagle, high look; Wolf secret cruelty:  
Monkey, sweet breath; the Cow, her fair eyes brought;  
The Ermion, whitest skin, spotted with naught;  
The sheep, mild-seeming face; climbing, the Bear;  
The Stag did give the harm efchewing fear.   

The Hare, her sleights; the Cat, his melancholy;  
Ante, industry; and Connie, skill to build;  
Cranes, order; Storks, to be appearing holy;  
Camaeleon, ease to change; Duck, ease to yield;  
Crocodile, tears, which might be falsely spilled:  
Ape great thing gave, though he did mowing stand,  
The instrument of instruments, the hand.   

Each other beast likewise his present brings:  
And (but they dread their Prince they aught should want)  
They all consented were to give him wings:  
And ay more awe towards him for to plant,  
To their own work this privilege they grant,  
That from thenceforth to all eternity,  
No beast should frecly speak, but only he.   

Thus Man was made; thus Man their Lord become:  
Who at the first, wanting, or hiding pride,  
He did to beasts best use his cunning frame;  
With water drink, herbs meat, and naked hide,  
And fellowlike let his dominion slide;  
Not in his sayings saying I, but we:  
As if he meant his lordship common be.   

But when his seat so rooted he had found,  
That they now skilled not, how from him to wend;  
Than 'gan in guiltless earth full many a wound,  
Iron to seek, which 'gainst itself should bend,  
To tear the bowels, that good corn should sand.  
But yet the common Dam noon did bemoan;  
Because (though hurt) they never heard her groan.   

Than 'gan the factions in the beasts to breed;  
Where helping weaker sort, the nobler beasts,  
(As Tigers, leopards, bears, and Lions seed)  
Disdained with this, in deserts sought their rests;  
Where famine ravin taught their hungry chests,  
That craftily he forced them to do ill,  
Which being done he afterwards would kill.   

For murders done, which never erst was seen,  
By those great beasts, as for the weakers good,  
He chose themselves his guarders for to been,  
'Gainst those of might, of whom in fear they stood,  
As horse and dog, not great, but gentle blood:  
Blithe were the commons cattle of the field,  
Thomas when they seen their foes of greatness killed.   

But they or spent, or made of slender might,  
Than quickly did the meaner cattle find,  
The great beams go, the house on shoulders light:  
For by and by the horse fair bits did bind:  
The dog was in a collar taught his kind.  
As for the gentle birds like case might rue  
When falcon they, and goshawk seen in mewe.   

Worst fell to smallest birds, and meanest heard,  
Whom now his own, full like his own he used.  
Yet first but wool, or feathers off he teard:  
And when they were well us 'de to be abused,  
For hungry teeth their flesh with teeth he bruised:  
At length for glutton taste he did them kill:  
At last for sport their silly lives did spill.   

But yet o man, rage not beyond they need:  
Deem it no gloire to swell in tyranny.  
Thou art of blood; joy not to see things bleed:  
Thou fearest death; think they are ioth to die.  
A plaint of guiltless hurt doth pierce the sky.  
And you poor beasts, in patience bide your hell,  
Or know your strengths, and then you shall do well.   

Thus did I sing, and pipe eight sulien hours  
To sheep, whom love, not knowledge, made to hear,  
Now fancies fits, now fortunes baleful stowers:  
But than I homewards called my lambkins dear:  
For to my dimmed eyes began t' appear  
The night grown old, her black head waxen grey,  
Sure shepherds sign, that morn should soon fetch day.   
According to the nature of diverse ears, diverse judgements strength followed: some praising his voice, others his words fit to frame a pastoral style, others the strangeness of the tale, and scanning what he should mean by it. But old Geron (who had borne him a grudge ever since in one of their Eclogues he had taken him up over-bitterly) took hold of this occasion to make his revenge, and said, He never seen thing worse proportioned, then to bring in a tale of he knew not what beasts at such a sport-meeting, when rather some song of love, or matter for joyful melody was to be brought forth. But, said he, This is the right conceit of young men, who think, than they speak wiseliest, when they cannot understand themselves. But little did the melancholic shepherd regard either his dispraises, or the others praises, who had set the foundation of his honour there; where he was most despised. And therefore he returning again to the train of his desolate pensiveness, Geron invited Histor to answer him in Eclogue-wise; who indeed having been long in love with the fair Kala, and now by Lalus overgone; was grown into a detestation of marriage. But thus it was.  Geron. Histor. Geron. 

In faith, good Histor, long is your delay,  
From holy marriage sweet and surest mean:  
Our foolish lust in honest rules to stay.  
I pray thee do to Lalus sample lean:  
Thou seest, how frisk, and jolly now he is,  
That last day seemed, he could not chew a bean.  
Believe me man, there is no greater bliss,  
Than is the quiet joy of loving wife;  
Which who so wants, half of himself doth miss.  
Friend without change, playfellow without strife.  
Food without fullness, counsel without pride,  
Is this sweet doubling of our single life.   Histor. 

No doubt to whom so good chance did betide,  
As for to find a pasture strawed with gold,  
He were a fool, if there he did not bide.  
Who would not have a Phoenix if he could?  
The humming Wasp, if it had not a sting,  
Before all flies the Wasp accept I would.  
But this bad world, few golden fields doth bring,  
Phoenix but one, of Crows we millions have:  
The Wasp seems gay, but is a cumbrous thing.  
If many Kalaes our Arcadia gave,  
Lalus example I would soon ensue,  
And think, I did myself from sorrow save.  
But of such wives we find a slender crew;  
Shrewdness so stirs, pride so puffs up the heart,  
They seldom ponder what to them is due.  
With meager looks, as if they still did smart;  
Puiling, and whimpering, or else scolding flat,  
Make home more pain then following of the cart.  
Ether dull silence, or eternal chat;  
Still contrary to what her husband says;  
If he do praise the dog, she likes the cat.  
Austere she is, when he would honest plays;  
And gamesome then, when he thinks on his sheep;  
She bids him go, and yet from journey stays.  
She war doth ever with his kinsfolk keep,  
And makes them frembed, who friends by nature are,  
Envying shallow toys with malice deep.  
And if forsooth there come some new found ware,  
The little coin his sweeting brows have got,  
Must go for that, if for her lowers he care:  
Or else; Nay faith, my is the lucklest lot,  
That ever fell to honest woman yet:  
Not wife but I hath such a man, God wots.  
Such is their speech, who be of sober wit;  
But who do let their tongues show well their rage,  
Lord, what by-words they speak, what spite they spit?  
The house is made a very loathsome cage,  
Wherein the bird doth never sing but cry;  
With such a will as nothing can assuage.  
dearly the servants do their wages buy,  
Reviled for each small fault, sometimes for noon:  
They better live that in a gail do lie.  
Let other fouler spots away be blown;  
For I seek not their shame, but still me thinks,  
A better life it is to lie alone.   Geron. 

Who for each fickle fear from virtue shrinks,  
Shall in his life embrace no worthy thing:  
Not mortal man the cup of surety drinks.  
The heavens do not good haps in handfuls bring,  
But let us pike our good from out much bad:  
That still our little world may know his king.  
But certainly so long we may be glad,  
While that we do what nature doth require,  
And for th' event we never aught be sad.  
Man often is plag'de with air, is burnt with fire,  
In water drowned, in earth his burial is;  
And shall we not therefore their use desire?  
Nature above all things requireth this,  
That we our kind do labour to maintain;  
Which drawne-out line doth hold all human bliss.  
Thy father justly may of thee complain,  
If thou do not repay his deeds for thee,  
In granting unto him a grandsires gain.  
Thy commonwealth may rightly grieved be,  
Which must by this immortal be preserved,  
If thus thou murder thy posterity.  
His very being he hath not deserved,  
Who for a selfe-conceipt will that forbear,  
Whereby that being ay must be conserved.  
And God forbidden, women such cattle were,  
As you paint them: but well in you I find,  
No man doth speak aright, who speaks in sear.  
Who only sees the ill is worse than blind.  
These fifty winters married have I been;  
And yet find no such faults in womankind.  
I have a wife worthy to be a Queen,  
So well she can command, and yet obey;  
In ruling of a house so well she's seen.  
And yet in all this time, betwixt us twain,  
We bear our double yoke with such consent,  
That never passed soul word, I dare well say.  
But these be your love-toys, which still are spent  
In lawless games, and love not as you should,  
But with much study learn late to repent.  
How well last day before our Prince you could  
Blind Cupid's works with wonder testify?  
Yet now the root of him abase you would.  
Go to, go to, and Cupid now apply  
To that where thou thy Cupid mayst avow,  
And thou shalt find, in women virtues lie.  
Sweet suppling minds which soon to wisdom bow  
Where they by wisdoms rule directed are,  
And are not forced fond thraldom to allow.  
As we to get are framed, so they to spare:  
We made for pain, our pains they made to cherish:  
We care abroad, and they of home have care.  
OH Histor, seek within thyself to flourish:  
Thy house by thee must live, or else be go:  
And than who shall the name of Histor nourish?  
Richeses of children pass a Prince's throne;  
Which touch the father's heart with secret joy,  
When without shame he faith, these be my own.  
Marry therefore; for marriage will destroy  
Those passions which to youthful head do clime  
Mothers and Nurses of all vain annoyed.   
ALl the assembly laughed at the lustiness of the old fellow, and easily perceived in Histor, he liked Lalus fortune better, than he loved his person. But Basilius to entermixe with these light notes of liberty, some sadder tune, set to the key of his own passion, not seeing there Strephon or Klaius, (who called thence by Urania's letter, were both go to continued their svite, like two true runners, both employing their best speed, but not one hindering the other) he called to one Lamo of their acquaintance, and willed him to sing some one of their songs; which he readily performed in this double Sestine.  Strephon. Klaius. Strephon. 

You Gote-heard Gods, that love the grassy mountains,  
You Nymphs that haunt the springs in pleasant valleys,  
You Satyrs joyed with free and quiet forests,  
Vouchsafe your silent ears to plaining music,  
Which to my woes gives still an early morning:  
And draws the dolour on till weary evening.   Klaius. 

OH Mercury, foregoer to the evening,  
OH heavenly huntress of the savage mountains,  
OH lovely star, entitled of the morning,  
While that my voice doth fill these woeful valleys,  
Vouchsafe your silent ears to plaining music,  
Which often hath Echo tired in secret forests.   Strephon. 

I that was once free-burges of the forests,  
Where shade from Sun, and sports I sought at evening,  
I that was once esteemed for pleasant music,  
Am banished now among the monstrous mountains  
Of huge despair, and soul affictions valleys,  
Am grown a shrich-owle to myself each morning.   Klaius. 

I that was once delighted every morning,  
Hunting the wild inhabiters of forests,  
I that was once the music of these valleys,  
So darkened am, that all my day is evening,  
Hart-broken so, that molehilles seem high mountains,  
And fill the vales with cries in steed of music.   Strephon. 

Long since alas, my deadly Swannish music  
Hath made itself a crier of the morning,  
And hath with wailing strength climbed highest mountains:  
Long since my thoughts more desert be then forests:  
Long since I see my joys come to their evening,  
And state thrown down to over-troden valleys.   Klaius. 

Long since the happy dwellers of these valleys,  
Have prayed me leave my strange exclaiming music,  
Which troubles their days work, and joys of evening:  
Long since I hate the night, more hate the morning:  
Long since my thoughts chase me like beasts in forests,  
And make me wish myself laid under mountains.   Strephon. 

Me seems I see the high and stately mountains,  
Transform themselves to low dejected valleys:  
Me seems I hear in these ill-changed forests,  
The Nightingales do learn of Owls their music:  
Me seems I feel the comfort of the morning  
Turned to the mortal serene of an evening.   Klaius. 

Me seems I see a filthy cloudy evening,  
As soon as Sun gins to climb the mountains:  
Me seems I feel a noisome sent, the morning  
When I do smell the flowers of these valleys:  
Me seems I hear, when I do hear sweet music,  
The dreadful cries of murdered men in forests.   Strephon. 

I wish to fire the trees of all these forests;  
I give the Sun a last farewell each evening;  
I curse the fiddling finders out of Music:  
With cnuie I do hate the lofty mountains;  
And with despite despise the humble valleys:  
I do detest night, evening, day, and morning.   Klaius. 

Curse to myself my prayer is, the morning:  
My fire is more, then can be made with forests;  
My state more base, then are the basest valleys:  
I wish no evenings more to see, each evening;  
Shamed I have myself in sight of mountains,  
And stop my ears, jest I grow mad with Music.   Strephon. 

For she, whose parts maintained a perfect music,  
Whose beauty shined more than the blushing morning,  
Who much did pass in state the stately mountains,  
In straightness past the Cedars of the forests,  
Hath cast me wretch into eternal evening,  
By taking her two Suns from these dark valleys.   Klaius. 

For she, to whom compared, the Alpss are valleys,  
She, whose left word brings from the spheres their music,  
At whose appraoch the Sun rose in the evening,  
Who, where she went, bore in her forehead morning,  
Is go, is go from these our spoiled forests,  
Turning to deserts our best pastur'de mountains.   Strephon. 

These mountains witness shall, so shall these valleys,   Klaius. 

These forests eke, made wretched by our music,  
Our morning hymn is this, and song at evening.   
Zelmane sing no body offer to fill the stage, as if her long restrained conceits had new burst out of prison, she thus desiring her voice should be accorded to nothing but Philoclea's ears, laying fast hold on her face with her eyes, she sang these Sapphiques, speaking as it were to her own Hope.  

IF my eyes can speak to do hearty errand,  
Or my eyes language she do hap to tudge of,  
So that eyes message be of her received,  
Hope we do live yet.   

But if eyes fail then, when I most do need them,  
Or if eyes language be not unto her known,  
So that eyes message do return rejected,  
Hope we do both die.   

Yet dying, and dead, do we sing her honour;  
So become our tombs monuments of her praise;  
So becomes our loss the triumph of her gain;  
Hers be the glory.   

If the spheres senseless do yet hold a music,  
If the Swans sweet voice be not heard, but at death,  
If the mute timber when it hath the life lost,  
Yieldeth a lutes tune.   

Are then human minds privileged so meanly,  
As that hateful death can abridge them of power,  
With the vow of truth to record to all worlds,  
That we be her spoils?   

Thus not ending, ends the due praise of her praise;  
Fleshly vail consumes; but a soul hath his life,  
Which is held in love, love it is, that hath joined  
Life to this our soul.   

But if eyes can speak to do hearty errand,  
Or my eyes language she do hap to judge of,  
So that eyes message be of her received,  
Hope we do live yet.   
WHat exclaiming praises Basilius gave to Zelmane's song, any man may guess, that knows love is better than a pair of spectacles to make every thing seem greater, which is seen through it: and then is it never tongue-tied, where fit commendation (whereof womankind is so liquorous) is offered unto it. Yea, he fell prostrate on the ground, and thanked the Gods, they had preserved his life so long, as to hear the very music they themselves used, in an earthly body. But the wasting of the torches served as a watch unto them, to make them see the time waste; and therefore the King (though unwilling) rose from the seat, which he thought excellently settled on the one side: and considering Zelmane's late hurt, persuaded her to take that farre-spent night's rest. And so of all sides they went to recommend themselves to the elder brother of death.   
The end of the first Book.   

THE SECOND BOOK OF THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.  

CHAP. 1.  
The love-complaintes ¹ of Gynoecia, ² Zelmane, ³ and Basilius. ⁴ Her, ⁵ and his wooing of Zelmane, and her shifting of both, ⁶ to bemoan herself  
In these pastoral pastimes a great number of days were sent to follow their flying predecessors, while the cup of poison (which was deeply tasted of this noble company) had left no sinew of theirs without mortally searching into it; yet never manifesting his venomous work, till once, that the night (parting away angrily, that she could distill no more sleep into the eyes of lovers) had no sooner given place to the breaking out of the morning light, and the Sun bestowed his beams upon the tops of the mountains, but that the woeful Gynoecia argument key no. 1 (to whom rest was no ease) had left her loathed lodging, and gotten herself into the solitary places those deserts were full of, going up and down with such unquiet motions, as a grieved & hopeless mind is wont to bring forth. There appeared unto the eyes of her judgement the evils she was like to run into, with ugly infamy waiting upon them: she felt the terrous of her own conscience: she was guilty of a long exercised virtue, which made this vice the fuller of deformity. The uttermost of the good she could aspire unto, was a mortal wound to her vexed spirits: and lastly no small part of her evils was, that she was wife to see her evils. In so much, that having a great while thrown her countenance ghastly about her (as if she had called all the powers of the world to witness of her wretched estate) at length casting up her watery eyes to heaven, OH Sun (said she) whose unspotted light directs the steps of mortal mankind, art thou not ashamed to impart the clearness of thy presence to such a dust-creeping worm as I am? OH you heavens (which continually keep the course allotted unto you) can noon of your influences prevail so much upon the miserable Gynoecia, as to make her preserve a course so long embraced by her? OH deserts, deserts, how fit a guest am I for you, since my heart can people you with wild ravenous beasts, which in you are wanting? OH Virtue, where dost thou hide thyself? or what hideous thing is this which doth eclipse thee? or is it true that thou wert never but a vain name, and no essential thing, which hast thus left thy professed servant, when she had most need of thy lovely presence? OH imperfect proportion of reason, which can too much foresee, & too little prevent. Alas, alas (said she) if there were but one hope for all my pains, or but one excuse for all my faultiness. But wretch that I am, my torment is beyond all succour, & my evil deserving doth exceed my evil fortune. For nothing else did my husband take this strange resolution to live so solitarily: for nothing else have the winds delivered this strange guest to my country: for nothing else have the destinies reserved my life to this time, but that only I (most wretched I) should become a plague to myself, and a shame to womankind. Yet if my desire (how unjust so ever it be) might take effect, though a thousand deaths followed it, and every death were followed with a thousand shames; yet should not my seplcher receive me without some contentment. But alas, though sure I am, that Zelmane is such as can answer my love; yet as sure I am, that this disguising must needs come for some foretaken conceit. And then, wretched Gynoecia, wherè canst thou found any small groundplot for hope to dwell upon? Not, not, it is Philoclea his heart is set upon: it is my daughter I have borne to supplant me. But if it be so, the life I have given thee (ungrateful Philoclea) I will sooner with these hands bereave thee of, than my birth shall glory, she hath bereaved me of my desires. In shame there is no comfort, but to be beyond all bounds of shame.  
Having spoken thus, she began to make a piteous war with her fair hair, when she might hear (not far from argument key no. 2 her) an extremely doleful voice, but so suppressed with a kind of whispering note, that she could not conceive the words distinctly. But (as a lamentable tune is the sweetest music to a woeful mind) she drew thither neere-away, in hope to found some companion of her misery. And as she passed on, she was stopped with a number of trees, so thickly placed together, that she was afraid she should (with rushing thorough) stop the speech of the lamentable party, which she was so desirous to understand. And therefore setting her down as softly as she could (for she was now in distance to hear) she might first perceive a Lute excellently well played upon, and then the same doleful voice accompanying it with these verses.  

IN vain, my Eyes, you labour to amend  
With flowing tears your fault of hasty sight:  
Since to my heart her shape you so did send;  
That her I see, though you did loose your light.   

In vain, my heart, now you with sight are burnt,  
With sighs you seek to cool your hot desire:  
Since sighs (into my inward furnace turned)  
For bellows serve to kindle more the fire.   

Reason, in vain (now you have lost my heart)  
My head you seek, as to your strongest fort:  
Since there my eyes have played so false a part,  
That to your strength your foes have sure resort.  
Than since in vain I found were all my strife,  
To this strange death I vainly yield my life.   
The ending of the song served but for a beginning of new plaints, as if the mind (oppressed with too heavy a burden of cares) was feign to discharge itself of all sides, & as it were, paint out the hideousnes of the pain in all sorts of colours. For the woeful person (as if the lute had evil joined with the voice) threw it to the ground with such like words: Alas, poor Lute, how much art thou deceived to think, that in my miseries thou couldst ease my woes, as in my careless times thou was wont to please my fancies? The time is changed, my Lute, the time is changed; and no more did my joyful mind then receive every thing to a joyful consideration, than my careful mind now makes each thing taste like the bitter juice of care. The evil is inward, my Lute, the evil is inward; which all thou dost, doth serve but to make me think more freely off, and the more I think, the more cause I find of thinking, but less of hoping. And alas, what is then thy harmony, but the sweet meats of sorrow? The discord of my thoughts, my Lute, doth ill agreed to the concord of thy strings; therefore be not ashamed to leave thy master, since he is not afraid to forsake himself.  
argument key no. 4 And thus much spoken (in steed of a conclusion) was closed up with so hearty a groaning, that Gynoecia could not refrain to show herself, thinking such griefs could serve fitly for nothing, but her own fortune. But as she come into the little Arbour of this sorrowful music, her eyes met with the eyes of Zelmane, which was the party that thus had indicted herself of misery: so that either of them remained confused with a sudden astonishment. Zelmane fearing, lest she had heard some part of those complaints, which she had risen up that morning of purpose, to breathe out in secret to herself. But Gynoecia a great while stood still, with a kind of dull amazement, looking steadfastly upon her: at length returning to some use of herself, she began to ask Zelmane, what 'cause carried her so early abroad? But as if the opening of her mouth to Zelmane, had opened some great floodgate of sorrow (whereof her heart could not abide the violent issue) she sank to the ground, with her hands over her face, crying vehemently, Zelmane help me, OH Zelmane have pity on me. Zelmane ran to her, marveling what sudden sickness had thus possessed her: and beginning to ask her the cause of her pain, and offering her service to be employed by her: Gynoecia opening her eyes wildly upon her, pricked with the flames of love, and the torments of her own conscience; OH Zelmane, Zelmane, (said she) dost thou offer me physic, which art my only poison? Or wilt thou do me service, which hast already brought me into eternal slavery? Zelmane then knowing well at what mark she shot, yet loathe to enter into it; Most excellent Lady (said she) you were best retire yourself into your lodging, that you the better may pass this sudden fit. Retire myself? (said Gynoecia) If I had retired myself into myself, when thou to me (unfortunate guest) camest to draw me from myself; blessed had I been, and no need had I had of this counsel. But now alas, I am forced to fly to thee for succour, whom I accuse of all my hurt; and make thee judge of my cause, who art the only author of my mischief. Zelmane the more astonished, the more she understood her, Madam (said she) whereof do you accuse me, that I will not clear myself? Or wherein may I steed you, that you may not command me? Alas, answered Gynoecia, what shall I say more? Take pity of me, OH Zelmane, but not as Zelmane, and disguise not with me in words, as I know thou dost in apparel.  
argument key no. 3 Zelmane was much troubled with that word, finding herself brought to this strength. But as she was thinking what to answer her; they might see old Basilius pass hard by them, without ever seeing them: complaining likewise of love very freshly; and ending his complaint with this song, Love having renewed both his invention, and voice.  

Let not old age disgrace my high desire,  
OH heavenly soul, in humane shape contained:  
Old wood inflamed, doth yield the bravest fire,  
When younger doth in smoke his virtue spend.   

Ne let white hairs, which on my face do grow,  
Seem to your eyes of a disgraceful hew:  
Since whiteness doth present the sweetest show,  
Which makes all eyes do honour unto you.   

Old age is wise and full of constant truth;  
Old age well stayed from ranging humour lives:  
Old age hath known what ever was in youth:  
Old age o'ercome, the greater honour gives.  
And to old age since you yourself aspire,  
Let not old age disgrace my high desire.   
Which being done, he looked very curiously upon himself, sometimes fetching a little skip, as if he had said, his strength had not yet forsaken him. But Zelmane having in this time gotten leisure to think for an answer; looking upon Gynoecia, as if she thought she did her some wrong: Madam (said she) I am not acquainted with those words of disguising, neither is it the profession of an Amazon, neither are you a party with whom it is to be used. If my service may please you, employ it, so long as you do me no wrong in misiudgeing of me. Alas Zelmane (said Gynoecia) I perceive you know full little, how piercing the eyes are of a true lover. There is no one beam of those thoughts you have planted in me, but is able discern a greater cloud than you do go in. Seek not to conceal yourself further from me, nor force not the passion of love into violent extremities. Now was Zelmane brought to an exigent, when the king, turning his eyes that way thorough the trees, perceived his wife and mistress together: so that framing the most lovely countenance he could, he come straightway towards them; and at the first word (thanking his wife for having entertained Zelmane,) desired her she would now return into the lodge, because he had certain matters of estate to impart to the Lady Zelmane. The Queen (being nothing troubled with jealousy in that point) obeyed the king's commandment; full of raging agonies, and determinately bend, that as she would seek all loving means to win Zelmane, so she would stir up terrible tragedies, rather than fail of her intent. And so went she from them to the lodge-ward, with such a battle in her thoughts, and so deadly an overthrow given to her best resolutions, that even her body (where the field was fought) was oppressed withal: making a languishing sickness wait upon the triumph of passion; which the more it prevailed in her, the more it made her jealousy watchful, both over her daughter, and Zelmane; having ever one of them entrusted to her own eyes.  
But as soon as Basilius was rid of his wives presence, falling down on his knees, OH Lady (said he) which hast only had the power to stir up again those flames which had so long lain dead in me; see in me the power of your beauty; which can make old age come to ask counsel of youth; and a Prince unconquered, to become a slave to a stranger. And when you see that power of yours, love that at left in me, since it is yours, although of me you see nothing to be loved. Worthy Prince (answered Zelmane, taking him up from his kneeling) both your manner, and your speech are so strange unto me, as I know not how to answer it better than with silence. If silence please you (said the king) it shall never displease me, since my heart is wholly pledged to obey you: otherwise if you would vouchsafe my ears such happiness, as to hear you, they shall convary your words to such a mind, which is with the humblest degree of reverence to receive them. I disdain not to speak to you (mighty Prince said Zelmane,) but I disdain to speak to any matter which may bring my honour into question. And therewith, with a brave counterfeited scorn she departed from the king; leaving him not so sorry for his short answer, as proud in himself that he had broken the matter. And thus did the king (feeding his mind with those thoughts) pass great time in writing verses, & making more of himself, than he was wont to do: that with a little help, he would have grown into a pretty kind of dotage. argument key no. 5  
argument key no. 6 But Zelmane being rid of this loving, but little-loved company, Alas (said she) poor Pyrocles, was there ever one, but I, that had received wrong, and could blame no body. that having more than I desire, am still in want of that I would? Truly Love, I must needs say thus much on thy behalf; thou hast employed my love there, where all love is deserved; and for recompense hast sent me more love than ever I desired. But what wilt thou do Pyrocles? which way canst thou find to rid thee of thy intricate troubles? To her whom I would be known to, I live in darkness: and to her am revealed, from whom I would be most secret. What shift shall I find against the diligent love of Basilius? what shield against the violent passions of Gynoecia? And if that be done, yet how am I the nearer to quench the fire that consumes me? Well, well, sweet Philoclea, my whole confidence must be builded in thy divine spirit, which cannot be ignorant of the cruel wound I haven received by you.   

CHAP. 2.  
¹ Dametas-his instructing of Dorus. ² Zelmane's discourse to Dorus of her difficulties; ³ & his to her of his success in love. ⁴ His love-suits made to Mopsa, meant to Pamela: with their answers.  
But as sick folks, when they are alone, think company would relieve them, & yet having company do found it noisome; changing willingly outward objects, when indeed the evil is inward: So poor Zelmane was no more weighed of Basilius, than she was of herself, when Basilius was go: and ever the more, the more she turned her eyes to become her own judges. Tired wherewith, she longed to meet her friend Dorus; that upon the shoulders of friendship she might lay the burden of sorrow: and therefore went toward the other lodge: where among certain Beeches she found Dorus, appareled in flanen, with a goats skin cast upon him, & a garland of Laurel mixed with Cypress leaves on his head, waiting on his master Dam, argument key no. 1 who at that time was teaching him how with his sheephook to catch a wanton Lamb, & with the same to cast a little clod at any one that strayed out of company. And while Dorus was practising, one might see Dam hold his hand under his girdle behind him, nodding from the waist upwards, & swearing he never knew man go more aukewardly to work: & that they might talk of booke-learning what they would; but for his part, he never seen more unseatlie fellows, then great clerks were.  
But Zelmane's coming saved Dorus from further argument key no. 2 chiding. And so she beginning to speak with him of the number of his master's sheep, and which Province of Arcadia bore the finest wool, drew him on to follow her in such country discourses, till (being out of Dam hearing) with such vehemency of passion, as though her heart would climb into her mouth, to take her tongues office, she declared unto him, upon what briars the roses of her affections grew: how time still seemed to forget her, bestowing no one hour of comfort upon her; she remaining still in one plight of ill fortune, saving so much worse, as continuance of evil doth in itself increase evil. Alas my Dorus (said she) thou feest how long and languishingly the weeks are paste over us since our last talking. And yet am I the same, miserable I, that I was: only stronger in longing, and weaker in hoping. Than fell she to so pitiful a declaration of the insupportablenes of her desires, that Dorus ears (not able to show what wounds that discourse gave unto them) procured his eyes with tears to give testimony, how much they suffered for her suffering: till passion (a most cumbersome guest to itself) made Zelmane (the sooner to shake it of) earnestly entreat Dorus, that he also (with like freedom of discourse) would bestow a Map of his little world, upon her; that she might see, whither it were troubled with such unhabitable climes of cold despairs, and hot rages, as hers was. And so walking under a few Palm trees, (which being loving in their own nature, seemed to give their shadow the willinglier, because they held discourse of love) Dorus thus entered to the description of his fortune.  
argument key no. 3 Alas (said he) dear Cousin, that it hath pleased the high powers to throw us to such an estate, as the only intercourse of our true friendship, must be a bartering of miseries. For my part, I must confess indeed, that from a huge darkness of sorrows, I am crept (I cannot say to a lightsomeness, but) to a certain dawning, or rather, peeping out of some possibility of comfort: But woe is me, so far from the mark of my desires, that I rather think it such a light, as comes through a small hole to a dungeon, that the miserable caitiff may the better remember the light, of which he is deprived: or like a scholar, who is only come to that degree of knowledge, to find himself utterly ignorant.  
But thus stands it with me: After that by your means I was exalted to serve in yonder blessed lodge, for a while I had, in the furnace of my agonies, this refreshing; that (because of the service I had done in kill of the Bear) it pleased the Princess (in whom indeed stateliness shines through courtesy) to let fall some gracious look upon me. Sometimes to see my exercises, sometimes to hear my songs. For my part, my heart would not suffer me to omit any occasion, whereby I might make the incomparable Pamela, see how much extraordinary devotion I bore to her service: and withal, strove to appear more worthy in her sight; that small desert, joined to so great affection, might prevail something in the wisest Lady. But too well (alas) I found, that a shepherds service was but considered of as from a shepherd, and the acceptation limited to no further proportion, then of a good servant. And when my countenance had once given notice, that there lay affection under it, I saw strait, Majesty (sitting in the throne of Beauty) draw forth such a sword of just disdain, that I remained as a man thunder-striken; not daring, not not able, to behold that power. Now, to make my estate known, seemed again impossible, by reason of the suspitiousnes of Dam, Miso, and my young Mistress, Mopsa. For, Dam (according to the constitution of a dull head) thinks no better way to show himself wife, then by suspecting every thing in his way. Which suspicion Misc (for the hoggish shrewdness of her brain) and Mopsa (for a very unlikely envy she hath stumbled upon, against the Princess' unspeakable beauty) were very glad to execute. So that I (finding my service by this means lightly regarded, my affection despised, and myself unknown) remained no fuller of desire, then void of comfort how to come to my desire. Which (alas) if these trees could speak, they might well witness. For, many times have I stood here, bewailing myself unto them: many times have I, leaning to yonder Palm, admired the blessedness of it, that could bear Love without sense of pain. Many times, when my master's cattles come hither to chew their cud, in this fresh place, I might see the young Bull testify his love. But how with proud looks, and joyfulness. OH wretched mankind (said I then to myself) in whom wit (which should be the governor of his welfare) becomes the traitor to his blessedness. These beasts, like children to nature, inherit her blessings quietly; we, like bastards, are laid abroad, even as foundlinges to be trained up by grief and sorrow. Their minds grudge not their body's comfort, nor their senses are letted from enjoying their objects: we have the impediments of honour, and the torments of conscience. Truly in such cogitations have I sometimes so long stood, that me thought my feet began to grow into the ground, with such a darkness and heaviness of mind, that I might easily have been persuaded to have resigned over my very essence. But Love, (which one time layeth burdens, another time giveth wings) when I was at the lowest of my downward thoughts, pulled up my heart to remember, that nothing is achieved before it be throughlie attempted; and that lying still doth never go forward: and that therefore it was time, now or never, to sharpen my invention, to pierce thorough the hardness of this enterprise; never ceasing to assemble all my conceits, one after the other, how to manifest both my mind and estate. Till at last, I lighted and resolved on this way, which yet perchance you will think was a way rather to hide it.  
argument key no. 4 I began to counterfeit the extremest love towards Mopsa, that might be: and as for the love, so lively it was indeed within me, (although to another subject) that little I needed to counterfeit any notable demonstrations of it: and so making a contrariety the place of my memory, in her foulness I beheld Pamela's fairness, still looking on Mopsa, but thinking on Pamela; as if I seen my Sun shine in a puddled water: I cried out of nothing but Mopsa: to Mopsa my attendance was directed: to Mopsa the best fruits I could gather were brought: to Mopsa it seemed still that my eye conveyed my tongue. So that Mopsa was my saying; Mopsa was my singing; Mopsa, (that is only suitable in laying a soul complexion upon a filthy favour, setting forth both in sluttishness) she was the lodestar of my life, she the blessing of my eyes, she the overthrow of my desires, and yet the recompense of my overthrow; she the sweetness of my heart, even sweetening the death, which her sweetness drew upon me. In sum, what soever I thought of Pamela, that I said of Mopsa; whereby as I got my masters goodwill, who before spited me, fearing left I should win the Princess favour from him, so did the same make the Princess be better content to allow me her presence: whither indeed it were, that a certain spark of noble indignation did rise in her, not to suffer such a baggage to win away any thing of hers, how meanly soever she reputed of it; or rather (as I think) my words being so passionate; and shooting so quite contrary from the marks of Mopsa's worthiness, she perceived well enough, wither they were directed: and therefore being so masked, she was contented, as a sport of wit to attended them. Whereupon one day determining to found some means to tell (as of a third person) the tale of my own love, and estate, finding Mopsa (like a Cuckoo by a Nightingale) alone with Pamela, I come in unto them, and with a face (I am sure) full of cloudy fancies, took a harp, and song this song.  

Since so my eyes are subject to your sight,  
That in your sight they fixed have my brain;  
Since so my heart is filled with that light,  
That only light doth all my life maintain;   

Since in sweet you all goods so richly reign,  
That where you are no wished good can want;  
Since so your living image lives in me,  
That in myself your self true love doth plant;  
How can you him unworthy than decree,  
In whose chief part your worths implanted be?   
The song being ended, which I had often broken of in the midst with grievous sighs, which overtook every verse I sang, I let fall my harp from me; & casting my eye sometime upon Mopsa, but setting my sight principally upon Pamela, And is it the only fortune most beautiful Mopsa (said I) of wretched Dorus, that fortune should be measure of his mind? Am I only he that because I am in misery, more misery must be laid upon me? must that which should be cause of compassion, become an argument of cruelty against me? Alas excellent Mopsa, consider, that a virtuous Prince requires the life of his meanest subject, and the heavenly Sun disdains not to give light to the smallest worm. OH Mopsa, Mopsa, if my heart could be as manifest to you, as it is uncomfortable to me, I doubt not the height of my thoughts should well countervail the lowness of my quality. Who hath not heard of the greatness of your estate? who seethe not, that your estate is much excelled with that sweet uniting of all beauties, which remaineth & dwelleth with you? who knows not, that all these are but ornaments of that divine spark within you, which being descended from heaven could notels-where pick out so sweet a mansion.? But if you will know what is the band that aught to knit all these excellencies together, it is a kind of mercifulness to such a one, as is in his soul devoted to those perfections. Mopsa (who already had had a certain smackring towards me) stood all this while with her hand sometimes before her face, but most commonly with a certain special grace of her own, wagging her lips, and grinning in steed of smiling: but all the words I could get of her, was, wring her waste, and thrusting out her chin, In faith you jest with me: you are a merry man indeed. But the ever-pleasing Pamela (that well found the Comedy would be marred, if she did not help Mopsa to her part) was content to urge a little further of me. Master Dorus (said the fair Pamela) me thinks you blame your fortune very wrongfully, since the fault is not in Fortune, but in you that cannot frame yourself to your fortune: and as wrongfully do require Mopsa to so great a disparagement as to her Father's servant; since she is not worthy to be loved, that hath not some feeling of her own worthiness. I stayed a good while after her words, in hope she would have continued her speech (so great a delight I received in hearing her) but seeing her say no further, (with a quaking all over my body) I thus answered her. Lady, most worthy of all duty, how falls it out that you in whom all virtue shines, will take the patronage of fortune, the only rebellious handmaid against virtue? Especially, since before your eyes, you have a pitiful spectacle of her wickedness, a forlorn creature, which must remain not such as I am, but such as she makes me, since she must be the balance of worthiness or disparagement. Yet alas, if the condemned man (even at his death) have leave to speak, let my mortal wound purchase thus much consideration; since the perfections are such in the party I love, as the feeling of them cannot come into any unnoble heart; shall that heart, which doth not only feel them, but hath all the working of his life placed in them, shall that heart I say, lifted up to such a height, be counted base? OH let not an excellent spirit do itself such wrong, as to think, where it is placed, embraced, and loved; there can be any unworthiness, since the weakest mist is not easilier driven away by the Sun, then that is chased away with so high thoughts. I will not deny (answered the gracious Pamela) but that the love you bear to Mopsa, hath brought you to the consideration of her virtues, and that consideration may have made you the more virtuous, and so the more worthy: But even that then (you must confess) you have received of her, and so are rather gratefully to thank her, then to press any further, till you bring something of your own whereby to claim it. And truly Dorus, I must in Mopsa's behalf say thus much to you, that if her beauties have so overtaken you, it becomes a true Love to have your heart more set upon her good then your own, and to bear a tenderer respect to her honour, than your satisfaction. Now by my hallidame, Madam (said Mopsa, throwing a great number of sheep's eyes upon me) you have even touched my own mind to the quick, forsooth. I (finding that the policy that I had used, had at least wise procured thus much happiness unto me, as that I might even in my Lady's presence, discover the sore which had deeply festered within me, and that she could better conceive my reasons applied to Mopsa, than she would have vouchsafed them, whilst herself was a party) thought good to pursue on my good beginning, using this fit occasion of Pameleas wit, and Mopsa's ignorance. Therefore with an humble piercing eye, looking upon Pamela, as if I had rather been condemned by her mouth, then highly exalted by the other, turning myself to Mopsa, but keeping my eye where it was, fair Mopsa (said I) well do I find by the wise knitting together of your answer, that any disputation I can use is asmuch too weak, as junworthy. I found my love shalbe proved no love, without I leave to love, being too unfit a vessel in whom so high thoughts should be engraved. Yet since the Love I bear you, hath so joined itself to the best part of my life, as the one cannot departed, but that th' other will follow, before I seek to obey you in making my last passage, let me know which is my unworthiness, either of mind, estate, or both? Mopsa was about to say, in neither; for her heart I think tumbled with over much kindness, when Pamela with a more favourable countenance than before (finding how apt I was to fall into despair) told me, I might therein have answered myself; for besides that it was granted me, that the inward feeling of Mopsa's perfections had greatly beautified my mind, there was noon could deny, but that my mind and body deserved great allowance. But Dorus (said she) you must be so far master of your love, as to consider, that since the judgement of the world stands upon matter of fortune, and that the sex of womankind of all other is most bound to have regardful eye to men's judgements, it is not for us to play the philosophers, in seeking out your hidden virtues: since that, which in a wise prince would be counted wisdom, in us will be taken for a light-grounded affection: so is not one thing, one, done by divers persons. There is no man in a burning fever feels so great contentment in cold water greedily received (which assoon as the drink ceaseth, the rage reneweth) as poor I found my soul refreshed with her sweetly pronounced words; & newly, & more violently again inflamed, assoon as she had closed up her delightful speech, with no less well graced silence. But remembering in myself that aswell the Soldier dieth which standeth still, as he that gives the bravest onset: & seeing that to the making up of my fortune, there wanted nothing so much as the making known of my estate, with a face well witnessing how deeply my soul was possessed, & with the most submissive behaviour, that a thralled heart could express, even as my words had been too thick for my mouth, at length spoke to this purpose. Alas, most worthy Princess (said I) & do not then your own sweet words sufficiently testify, that there was never man could have a juster action against filthy fortune, than I, since all other things being granted me, her blindness is my only let? OH heavenvly God, I would either she had such eyes as were able to discern my deserts, or I were blind not to see the daily cause of my misfortune. But yet (said I) most honoured Lady, if my miserable speeches have not already cloyed you, & that the very presence of such a wretch become not hateful in your eyes; let me reply thus much further against my mortal sentence, by telling you a story, which happened in this same country long since (for woes make the shortest time seem long) whereby you shall see that my estate is not so contemptible, but that a Prince hath been content to take the like upon him, and by that only hath aspired to enjoy a mighty Princess. Pamela graciously hearkened, and I told my tale in this sort.   

CHAP. 3.  
¹ Dorus-his tale of his own education, ² travail, ³ enamoring, ⁴ metamorphosing, ⁵ saving from sea, ⁶ and being Musidorus. ⁷ His octave. ⁸ Pamela's and Mopsa's answer to his svit. ⁹ His present to them; ¹⁰ and perplexity in himself.  
argument key no. 1 In the country of Thessalia, (alas why name I that accursed country, which brings forth nothing, but matters for tragedies? but name it I must) in Thessalia (I say) there was (well may I say, there was) a Prince (not, no Prince, whom bondage wholly possessed; but yet accounted a Prince, and) named Musidorus. OH Musidorus, Musidorus; but to what serve exclamations, where there are no cares to receive the sound? This Musidorus, being yet in the tenderest age, his worthy father paid to nature (with a violent death) her last duties, leaving his child to the faith of his friends, and the proof of time: death gave him not such pangs as the foresightful care he had of his silly successor. And yet if in his foresight he could have seen so much, happy was that good Prince in his timely departure, which barred him from the knowledge of his sons miseries, which his knowledge could neither have prevented, nor relieved. The young Musidorus (being thus, as for the first pledge of the destinies good will, deprived of his principal stay) was yet for some years after (as if the stars would breathe themselves for a greater mischief) lulled up in as much good luck, as the heedful love of his doleful mother, and the flourishing estate of his country could breed unto him.  
argument key no. 2 But when the time now come, that misery seemed to be ripe for him, because he had age to know misery, I think there was a conspiracy in all heavenly & earthly things, to frame fit occasion to lead him unto it. His people (to whom all foreign matters in foretime were odious) began to wish in their beloved Prince, experience by travail: his dear mother (whose eyes were held open, only with the joy of looking upon him) did now dispense with the comfort of her widowhood life, desiring the same her subjects did, for the increase of her sons worthiness. And here to did Musidorus own virtue (see how virtue can be a minister to mischief) sufficiently provoke him: for indeed thus much I must say for him, although the likeness of our mishaps makes me presume to pattern myself unto him) that well-doing was at that time his scope, from which no faint pleasure could withhold him. But the present occasion which did knit all this together, was his uncle the king of Macedon; who having lately before gotten such victories, as were beyond expectation, did at this time sand both for the Prince his son (brought up together, to avoid the wars, with Musidorus) and for Musidorus himself, that his joy might be the more full, having such partakers of it. But alas, to what a sea of miseries my plaintfull tongue doth led me; and thus out of breath, rather with that I thought, then that I said, I stayed my speech, till Pamela showing by countenance that such was her pleasure, I thus continued it. These two young Princes to satisfy the king, took their way by sea, towards Thrace, whither they would needs go with a Navy to secure him: he being at that time before Byzantium with a mighty Army besieging it; where at that time his court was. But when the conspired heavens had gotten this Subject of their wrath upon so fit a place as the sea was, they strength began to breathe out in boisterous winds some part of their malice against him; so that with the loss of all his Navy, he only with the Prince his cousin, were cast a land, far off from the place whither their desires would have guided them. OH cruel winds in your unconsiderte rages, why either began you this fury, or why did you not end it in his end? But your cruelty was such, as you would spare his life for many deathful torments. To tell you what pitiful mishaps fell to the young Prince of Macedon his cozen, I should too much fill your ears with strange horrors; neither will I stay upon those laboursome adventures, nor loathsome misadventures, to which, & through which his fortune and courage conducted him; My speech hasteneth itself to come to the ful-point of Musidorus his infortunes. For as we find the most pestilent diseases do gather into themselves all the infirmity, with which the body before was annoyed; so did his last misery embracein the extremity of itself all his former mischiefs.  
argument key no. 3 Arcadia, Arcadia was the place prepared to be the stage of his endless overthrow. Arcadia was, (alas well might I say it is) the charmed circle, where all his spirits for ever should be enchanted. For here (and no where else) did his infected eyes make his mind know, what power heavenly beauty hath to throw it down to hellish agonies. Here, here did he see the Arcadian King's eldest daughter, in whom he forthwith placed so all his hopes of joy, and joyful parts of his heart, that he left in himself nothing, but a maze of longing, and a dungeon of sorrow. But alas what can saying make them believe, whom seeing cannot persuade? Those pains must be felt before they can be understood; no outward utterance can command a conceit. Such was as then the state of the King, as it was no time by direct means to seek her. And such was the state of his captived will, as he could delay no time of seeking her.  
argument key no. 4 In this entangled case, he clothed himself in a shepherds weed, that under the baseness of that form, he might at least have free access to feed his eyes with that, which should at length eat up his heart. In which doing, thus much without doubt he hath manifested, that this estate is not always to be rejected, since under that vail there may be hidden things to be esteemed. And if he might with taking on a shepherds look cast up his eyes to the fairest Princess Nature in that time created; the like, nay the same desire of my need no more to be disdained, or held for disgraceful. But now alas my eyes wax dim, my tongue begins to falter, and my heart to want force to help, either with the feeling remembrance I have, in what heap of miseries the caitise Prince lay at this time buried. Pardon therefore, most excellent Princess, if I cut off the course of my dolorous tale, since if I be understood, I have said enough, for the defence of my baseness; and for that which after might befall to that pattern of ill fortune, (the matters are monstrous for my capacity) his hateful destinies must best declare their own workmanship.  
argument key no. 5 Thus having delivered my tale in this perplexed manner, to the end the Princess might judge that he meant himself, who spoke so feelingly; her answer was both strange, and in some respect comfortable. For would you think it? she hath heard heretofore of us both, by means of the valiant prince Plangus, and particularly of our casting away: which she (following my own style) thus delicately brought forth. You have told (said she) Dorus, a pretty tale; but you are much deceived in the latter end of it. For the prince Musidorus with his cozen Pyrocles did both perish upon the coast of Laconia; as a noble gentleman, called Plangus (who was well acquainted with the history) did assure my father. OH how that speech of hers did pour joys in my heart? o blessed name (thought I) of my, since thou hast been in that tongue, and passed through those lips, though I can never hope to approach them. As for Pyrocles (said I) I will not deny it, but that he is perished: (which I said, lest sooner suspicion might arise of your being, than yourself would have it) and yet affirmed no lie unto her, since I only said, I would not deny it. But for Musidorus (said I) I perceive indeed you have neither heard or read the story of that unhappy Prince; for this was the very objection, which that peerless Princess did make unto him, when he fought to appear such as he was before her wisdom: and thus as I have read it fair written in the certainty of my knowledge he might answer her, that indeed the ship wherein he come, by a treason was perished, and therefore that Plangus might easily be deceived: but that he himself was cast upon the coast of Laconia, where he was taken up by a couple of shepherds, who lived in those days famous; for that both loving one fair maid, they yet remained constant friends; one of whose songs not long since was song before you by the shepherd Lamon, and brought by them to a nobleman's house, near Mantinaea, whose son had a little before his marriage, been taken prisoner, and by the help of this Prince, Musidorus (though naming himself by another name) was delivered. Now these circumlocutions I did use, because of the one side I knew the Princess would know well the parties I meant; and of the other, if I should have named Strephon, Claius, Kalander, and Clitophon, perhaps it would have rubbed some conjecture into the heavy head of Mistress Mopsa.  
argument key no. 6 And therefore (said I) most divine Lady, he justly was to argue against such suspicions; that the Prince might easily by those parties be satisfied, that upon that wrack such a one was taken up: and therefore that Plangus might well err, who knew not of any's taking up again: that he that was so preserved, brought good tokens to be one of the two, chief of that wracked company: which two since Plangus knew to be Musidorus and Pyrocles, he must needs be one of them, although (as I said) upon a foretaken vow, he was otherwise at that time called. Besides, the Princess must needs judge, that no less than a Prince durst undertake such an enterprise, which (though he might get the favour of the Princess) he could never defend with less than a Prince's power, against the force of Arcadia. Lastly, (said he) for a certain demonstration, he presumed to show unto the Princess a mark he had on his face, as I might (said I) show this of my neck to the rare Mopsa: and withal, showed my neck to them both, where (as you know) there is a red spot, bearing figure (as they tell me) of a lions paw, that she may ascertain herself, that I am Menalcas brother. And so did he, beseeching her to sand some one she might trust, into Thessalia, secretly to be advertised, whither the age, the complexion, and particularly that notable sign, did not fully agreed with this Prince Musidorus. Do you not know further (said she, with a settled countenance, not accusing any kind of inward motion) of that story. Alas not, (said I) for even here the Historiographer stopped, saying, The rest belonged to Astrology. And therewith, thinking her silent imaginations began to work upon somewhat, to mollify them (as the nature of Music is to do) and withal, to show what kind of shepherd I was, I took up my Harp, and sang these few verses.  

argument key no. 7 My sheep are thoughts, which I both guide and serve:  
Their pasture is fair hills of fruitless Love:  
On barren sweets they feed, and feeding starve:  
I wail their lot, but will not other prove.  
My sheepehooke is wan hope, which all upholdes:  
My weeds, Desire, cut out in endless folds.  
What wool my sheep shall bear, whiles thus they live,  
In you it is, you must the judgement give.   
And then, partly to bring Mopsa again to the matter (jest she should too much take heed to our discourses) but principally, if it were possible, to gather some comfort out of her answers, I kneeled down to the Princess, and humbly besought her to move Mopsa in my behalf, that she would unarm her heart of that steely resistance against the sweet blows of Love: that since all her parts were decked with some particular ornament; her face with beauty, her head with wisdom, her eyes with majestic, her countenance with gracefulness, her lips with loveliness, her tongue with victory; that she would make her heart the throne of pity, being the most excellent raiment of the most excellent part.  
argument key no. 8 Pamela, without show either of favour or disdain, either of heeding or neglecting what I had said, turned her speech to Mopsa, and with such a voice and action, as might show she spoke of a matter which little did concern her, Take heed to yourself (said she) Mopsa, for your shepherd can speak well: but truly, if he do fully prove himself such as he faith, I mean, the honest shepherd Menalchas his brother, and heir, I know no reason why you should think scorn of him. Mopsa though (in my conscience) she were even then far spent towards me, yet she answered her, that for all my quaint speeches, she would keep her honesty close enough: And that as for the high way of matrimony, she would step never a foot further, till my master her father had spoken the whole word himself, no she would not. But ever and anon turning her muzzle toward me, she threw such a prospect upon me, as might well have given a surset to any weak lovers stomach. But Lord what a fool am I, to mingle that drivels' speeches among my noble thoughts? but because she was an Actor in this Tragedy, to give you a full knowledge, and to leave nothing (that I can remember) unrepeated.  
argument key no. 9 Now the Princess being about to withdraw herself from us, I took a jewel, made in the figure of a Crab-fish, which, because it looks one way and goes another, I thought it did fitly pattern out my looking to Mopsa, but bending to Pamela: The word about it was, By force, not choice; and still kneeling, besought the Princess that she would vouchsafe to give it Mopsa, and with the blessedness of her hand to make acceptable unto her that toy which I had found, following of late an acquaintance of my at the plough. For (said I) as the earth was turned up, the ploughshare lighted upon a great stone: we pulled that up, & so found both that, and some other pretty things which we had divided betwixt us.  
argument key no. 10 Mopsa was benumbed with joy when the Princess gave it her: but in the Princess I could find no apprehension of what I either said or did, but with a calm carelessness letting each thing slide, justly as we do by their speeches, who neither in matter nor person do any way belong unto us: which kind of cold temper, mixed with that lightning of her natural majesty, is of all others most terrible unto me: for yet if I found she contemned me, I would desperately labour both in fortune and virtue to overcome it; if she only misdoubted me, I were in heaven; for quickly I would bring sufficient assurance: lastly, if she hated me, yet I should know what passion to deal with; and either with infiniteness of desert I would take away the fuel from that fire; or if nothing would serve, than I would give her my hart-bloud to quench it. But this cruel quietness, neither retiring to mislike, nor proceeding to favour; gracious, but gracious still after one manner; all her courtesies having this engraven in them, that what is done, is for virtues sake, not for the parties; ever keeping her course like the Sun, who neither for our praises, nor curses, will spare or stop his horses. This (I say) heavenlines of hers, (for how so ever my misery is I cannot but so entitle it) is so impossible to reach unto, that I almost begin to submit myself to the tyranny of despair, not knowing any way of persuasion, where wisdom seems to be unsensible. I have appeared to her eyes, like myself, by a device I used with my master, persuading him, that we two might put on a certain rich apparel I had provided, and so practise something thing on horseback before Pamela, telling him, it was apparel I had gotten for playing well the part of a King in a Tragedy at Athens: my horse indeed was it I had left at Menalcas house, and Dam got one by friendship out of the Prince's stable. But how soever I show, I am no base body, all I do is but to beaten a rock and get some.   

CHAP. 4.  
¹ Basilius his hawking. ² Gynoecia's hurt by Dam overturning her coach. ³ Her jealousy over Zelmane. Philoclea's ⁴ lovepassions, ⁵ vow of chastity, ⁶ revocation, ⁷ lamentation.  
argument key no. 1 But as Dorus was about to tell further, Dam (who come whistling, & counting upon his fingers, how many load of hay his seventeen fat oxen eat up in a year) desired Zelmane from the King that she would come into the lodge, where they stayed for her. Alas (said Dorus, taking his leave) the sum is this, that you may well found you have beaten your sorrow against such a wall, which with the force of rebound may well make your sorrow stronger. But Zelmane turning her speech to Dam, I shall grow (said she) skilful in country matters, if I have often conference with your servant. In forth (answered Dam with a graceless scorn) the Lad may prove well enough, if he oversoon think not too well of himself, and will bear away that he heareth of his elders. And therewith as they walked to the other lodge, to make Zelmane found she might have spent her time better with him, he began with a wild Method to run over all the art of husbandry: especially employing his tongue about well dunging of a field: while poor Zelmane yielded her ears to those tedious strokes, not warding them so much as with any one answer, till they come to Basilius, and Gynoecia, who attended for her in a coach to carry her abroad to see some sports prepared for her. Basilius and Gynoecia sitting in the one end, placed her at the other, with her left side to Philoclea. Zelmane was moved in her mind, to have kissed their feet for the favour of so blessed a seat: for the narrowness of the coach made them join from the foot to the shoulders very close together; the truer touch whereof though it were barred by their envious apparel, yet as a perfect Magnes, though put in an ivory box, will thorough the box sand forth his embraced virtue to a beloved needle; so this imparadised neighbourhood made Zelmane's soul cleave unto her, both thorough the ivory case of her body, and the apparel which did over-clowd it. All the blood of Zelmane's body stirring in her, as wine will do when sugar is hastily put into it, seeking to suck the sweetness of the beloved guest; her heart, like a lion new imprisoned, seeing him that restrains his liberty, before the grate; not panting, but striving violently (if it had been possible) to have leapt into the lap of Philoclea. But Dam, even then proceeding from being master of a cart, to be doctor of a coach, not a little proud in himself, that his whip at that time guided the rule of Arcadia, drauc the coach (the cover whereof was made with such joints, that as they might (to avoid the weather) pull it up close when they listed, so when they would they might put each end down, and remain as discovered & open sighted as on horseback) till upon the side of the forest they had both greyhounds, spaniels, and hounds: whereof the first might seem the Lords, the second the Gentlemen, and the last the Yeomen of dogs; a cast of Merlin's there was beside, which flying of a gallant height over certain bushes, would beaten the birds (that rose) down unto the bushes, as Falcons will do wilde-foule over a river. But the sport which for that day Basilius would principally show to Zelmane, was the mountie at a Hearne, which getting up on his wagling wings with pain, till he was come to some height, (as though the air next to the earth were not fit for his great body to fly thorough) was now grown to diminish the fight of himself, & to give example to great persons, that the higher they be, the less they should show: when a jerfaulcon was cast of after her, who strength spying where the pray was, fixing her eye with desire, & guiding her wing by her eye, used no more strength than industry. For as a good builder to a high tower will not make his stair upright, but winding almost the full compass about, that the steepness be the more unsensible: so she, sing the towering of her pursued chase, went circling, & compassing about, rising so with the less sense of rising; & yet finding that way scantly serve the greediness of her haste, as an ambitious body will go far out of the direct way, to win to a point of height which he desires; so would she (as it were) turn tail to the Heron, & fly quite out another way, but all was to return in a higher pitch; which once gotten, she would either beaten with cruel assaults the Heron, who now was driven to the best defence of force, since flight would not serve; or else clasping with him, come down together, to be parted by the overpartiall beholders.  
argument key no. 2 divers of which flights Basilius showing to Zelmane, thus was the richesse of the time spent, and the day deceased before it was thought of, till night like a degenerating successor made his departure the better remembered. And therefore (so constrained) they willed Dam to drive homeward, who (half sleeping, half musing about the mending of a vine-press) guided the horses so ill, that the wheel coming over a great stub of a tree, it overturned the coach. Which though it fell violently upon the side where Zelmane & Gynoecia sat, yet for Zelmane's part, she would have been glad of the fall, which made her bear the sweet burden of Philoclea, but that she feared she might receive some hurt. But indeed neither she did, nor any of the rest, by reason they kept their arms and legs within the coach, saving Gynoecia, who with the only bruise of the fall had her shoulder put out of joinet; which though by one of the Faulkeners cunning, it was set well again, yet with much pain was she brought to the lodge; and pain (fetching his ordinary companion, a sever with him) drove her to entertain them both in her bed.  
argument key no. 3 But neither was the sever of such impatient heat, as the inward plague-sore of her affection, nor the pain half so noisome, as the jealousy she conceived of her daughter Philoclea, left this time of her sickness might give apt occasion to Zelmane, whom she misdoubted. Therefore she called Philoclea to her, and though it were late in the night, commanded her in her ear to go to the other lodge, and sand Miso to her, with whom she would speak, and she lie with her sister Pamela. The mean while Gynoecia kept Zelmane with her, because she would be sure, she should be out of the lodge, before she licensed Zelmane. Philoclea not skilled in any thing better than obedience, went quietly down; and the Moon then full (not thinking scorn to be a torche-bearer to such beauty) guided her steps, whose motions bore a mind, which bore in itself far more stirring motions. And alas (sweet Philoclea) how hath my pen till now forgot thy passions, since to thy memory principally all this long matter is intended? pardon the flacknes to come to those woes, which having caused in others, thou didst feel in thyself.  
argument key no. 4 The sweet minded Philoclea was in their degree of well doing, to whom the not knowing of evil serveth for a ground of virtue, and hold their inward powers in better form with an unspotted simplicity, than many, who rather cunningly seek to know what goodness is, then willingly take into themselves the following of it. But as that sweet & simple breath of heavenly goodness, is the easier to be altered, because it hath not passed through the worldly wickedness, nor feelingly found the evil, that evil carries with it; so now the Lady Philoclea (whose eyes and senses had received nothing, but according as the natural course of each thing required; which from the tender youth had obediently lived under her parents behests, without framing out of her own will the fore-chosing of any thing) when now she come to appoint, wherein her judgement was to be practised, in knowing faultiness by his first tokens, she was like a young faun, who coming in the wind of the hunters, doth not know whither it be a thing or no to be eschewed; whereof at this time she began to get a costly experience. For after that Zelmane had a while lived in the lodge with her, and that her only being a noble stranger had bred a kind of heedful attention; her coming to that lonely place (where she had no body but her parents) a willingness of conversation; her wit & behaviour, a liking & silent admiration; at length the excellency of her natural gifts, joined with the extreme shows she made of most devout honouring Philoclea, (carrying thus in one person the only two bands of good will, loveliness & lovingness) brought forth in her heart a yielding to a most friendly affection; which when it had gotten so full possession of the keys of her mind, that it would receive no message from her senses, without that affection were the interpreter; them strength grew an exceeding delight still to be with her, with an unmeasurable liking of all that Zelmane did: matters being so turned in her, that where at first, liking her manners did breed goodwil, now goodwil become the chief cause of liking her manners: so that within a while Zelmane was not prized for her demeanour, but the demeanour was prized because it was Zelmane's. Then followed that most natural effect of conforming one's self to that, which she did like, and not only wishing to be herself such an other in all things, but to ground an imitation upon so much an esteemed authority: so that the next degree was to mark all Zelmane's doings, speeches, and fashions, and to take them into herself, as a pattern of worthy proceeding. Which when once it was enacted, not only by the commonalty of Passions, but agreed unto by her most noble Thoughts, and that by Reason itself (not yet experienced in the issues of such matters) had granted his royal assent; then Friendship (a diligent officer) took care to see the statute thoroughly observed. Than grew on that not only she did imitate the soberness of her countenance, the gracefulness of her speech, but even their particular gestures: so that as Zelmane did often eye her, she would often eye Zelmane; & as Zelmane's eyes would deliver a submissive, but vehement desire in their look, she, though as yet she had not the desire in her, yet should her eyes answer in like piercing kindness of a look. Zelmane as much as Gynoecia's jealousy would suffer, desired to be near Philoclea; Philoclea, as much as Gynoecia's jealousy would suffer, desired to be near Zelmane. If Zelmane took her hand, and softly strained it, she also (thinking the knots of friendship aught to be mutual) would (with a sweet fastness) show she was loathe to part from it. And if Zelmane sighed, she would sigh also; when Zelmane was sad, she deemed it wisdom, and therefore she would be sad too. Zelmane's languishing countenance with croft arms, and sometimes cast-up eyes, she thought to have an excellent grace: and therefore she also willingly put on the same countenance: till at the last (poor soul, ere she were ware) she accepted not only the band, but the service; not only the sign, but the passion signified. For whither it were, that her wit in continuance did find, that Zelmane's friendship was full of impatient desire, having more than ordinary limits, & therefore she was content to second Zelmane, though herself knew not the limits; or that in truth, true-love (well considered) have an infective power. At last she fell in acquaintance with loves harbinger, wishing. First she would wish, that they two might live all their lives together, like two of Diana's Nymphs. But that wish, she thought not sufficient, because she knew, there would be more Nymphs besides them, who also would have their part in Zelmane. Then would she wish, that she were her sister, that such a natural band might make her more special to her. But against that, she considered, that though being her sister, if she happened to be married, she should be rob of her. Than grown bolder, she would wish either herself, or Zelmane a man, that there might succeed a blessed marriage betwixt them. But when that wish had once displayed his ensign in her mind, then followed whole squadrons of long, that so it might be, with a main battle of mislike, and repyning against their creation, that so it was not. Than dreams by night began to bring more unto her, than she durst wish by day, whereout making did make her know herself the better by the image of those fancies. But as some diseases when they are easy to be cured, they are hard to be known, but when they grow easy to be known, they are almost impossible to be cured: so the sweet Philoclea, while she might prevent it, she did not feel it, now she felt it, when it was past preventing; like a river, no rampires being built against it, till already it have overflowed. For now indeed, Love pulled of his mask, and showed his face unto her, and told her plainly, that she was his prisoner. Than needed she no more paint her face with passions; for passions shone thorough her face; Than her rosy colour was often increased with extraordinary blushing: and so another time, perfect whiteness ascended to a degree of paleness; now hot, then cold, desiring she knew not what, nor how, if she knew what. Than her mind (though too late) by the smart was brought to think of the disease, and her own proof taught her to know her mother's mind; which (as no error gives so strong assault, as that which comes armed in the authority of a parent, so) greatly fortified her desires, to see, that her mother had the like desires. And the more jealous her mother was, the more she thought the jewel precious, which was with so many looks guarded. But that prevailing so far, as to keep the two lovers from private conference, then began she to feel the sweetness of a lovers solitariness, when freely with words and gestures, as if Zelmane were present, she might give passage to her thoughts, and so as it were utter out some smoke of those flames, wherewith else she was not only burned, but smothered. As this night, that going from the one lodge to the other by her mother's commandment, with doleful gestures and uncertain paces, she did willingly accept the times offer, to be a while alone: so that going a little aside into the wood; where many times before she had delighted to walk, her eyes were saluted with a tuft of trees, so close set together, as with the shade the moon gave thorough it, it might breed a fearful kind of devotion to look upon it. But true thoughts of love banish all vain fancy of superstition. Full well she did both remember and like the place; for there had she often with their shade beguiled Phoebus of looking upon her: There had she enjoyed herself often, while she was mistress of herself, and had no other thoughts, but such as might arise out of quiet senses.  
argument key no. 5 But the principal cause that invited her remembrance, was a goodly white marble stone, that should seem had been dedicated in ancient time to the Sylvan gods: which she finding there a few days before Zelmane's coming, had written these words upon it, as a testimony of her mind, against the suspicion her captivity made her think she lived in. The writing was this.  

YOu living powers enclosed in stately shrine  
Of growing trees; you rural Gods that wield  
Your sceptres here, if to your ears divine  
A voice may come, which troubled soul doth yielded:  
This vow receive, this vow o Gods maintain;  
My virgin life no spotted thought shall stain.   

Thou purest stone, whose pureness doth present  
My purest mind; whose temper hard doth show  
My tempreed heart; by thee my promise sent  
Unto myself let after-livers know.  
Not fancy my, nor others wrong suspect  
Make me, o virtuous Shame, thy laws neglect.   

OH Chastity, the chief of heavenly lights,  
Which mak'st us most immortal shape to wear,  
Hold thou my heart, establish thou my sprights:  
To only thee my constant course I bear.  
Till spotless soul unto thy bosom fly,  
Such life to lead, such death I vow to die.   
But now that her memory served as an accuser of argument key no. 6 her change, and that her own hand-writing was there, to bear testimony against her fall; she went in among those few trees, so closed in the tops together, as they might seem a little chapel: and there might she by the help of the moonlight perceive the goodly stone, which served as an altar in that woody devotion. But neither the light was enough to read the words, and the ink was already foreworne, and in many places blotted: which as she perceived, Alas (said she) fair Marble, which never receivedst spot but by my writing, well do these blots become a blotted writer. But pardon her which did not dissemble then, although she have changed since. Enjoy, enjoy the glory of thy nature, which can so constantly bear the marks of my inconstancy. And herewith hiding her eyes with her soft hand, there come into her head certain verses, which if she had had present commodity, she would have adjoined as a retractation to the other. They were to this effect.  

MY words, in hope to blaze my steadfast mind,  
This marble chose, as of like temper known:  
But lo, my words defaced, my fancies blind,  
Blots to the stone, shame to myself I find:  
And witness am, how ill agreed in one,  
A woman's hand with constant marble stone.   

My words full weak, the marble full of might;  
My words in store, the marble all alone;  
My words black ink, the marble kindly white;  
My words unseen, the marble still in sight,  
May witness bear, how ill agreed in one,  
A woman's hand, with constant marble stone.   
argument key no. 7 But seeing she could not see means to join as then this recantation to the former vow, (laying all her fair length under one of the trees) for a while she did nothing but turn up and down, as if she had hoped to turn away the fancy that mastered her, and hide her face, as if she could have hidden herself from her own fancies. At length with a whispering note to herself; OH me unfortunate wretch (said she) what poisonous heats be these, which thus torment me? How hath the sight of this strange guest invaded my soul? Alas, what entrance found this desire, or what strength had it thus to conquer me? Than, a cloud passing between her sight and the moon, OH Diana (said she) I would either the cloud that now hides the light of my virtue would as easily pass away, as you will quickly overcome this let; or else that you were for ever thus darkened, to serve for an excuse of my outrageous folly. Than looking to the stars, which had perfectly as then beautified the clear sky: My parents (said she) have told me, that in these fair heavenly bodies, there are great hidden deities, which have their working in the ebbing & flowing of our estates. If it be so, then (OH you Stars) judge rightly of me, & if I have with wicked intent made myself a prey to fancy, or if by any idle lusts I framed my heart fit for such an impression, then let this plague daily increase in me, till my name be made odious to womankind. But if extreme and unresistible violence have oppressed me, who will ever do any of you sacrifice (o you Stars) if you do not secure me. Not, not, you will not help me. Not, not, you cannot help me: Sin must be the mother, and shame the daughter of my affection. And yet are these but childish objections (simple Philoclea) it is the impossibility that doth torment me: for, unlawful desires are punished after the effect of enjoying; but unpossible desires are punished in the desire itself. OH then, o ten times unhappy that I am, since where in all other hope kindleth love; in me despair should be the bellows of my affection: and of all despairs the most miserable, which is drawn from impossibility. The most covetous man longs not to get riches out of a ground which never can bear any thing; Why? because it is impossible. The most ambitious wight vexeth not his wits to climb into heaven; Why? because it is impossible. Alas then, o Love, why dost thou in thy beautiful sampler set such a work for my Desire to take out, which is as much impossible? And yet alas, why do I thus condemn my Fortune, before I hear what she can say for herself? What do I, silly wench, know what Love hath prepared for me? Do I not see my mother, as well, at left as furiously as myself, love Zelmane? And should I be wiser than my mother? Either she sees a possibility in that which I think impossible, or else impossible loves need not misbecome me. And do I not see Zelmane (who doth not think a thought which is not first weighed by wisdom and virtue) doth not she vouchsafe to love me with like ardour? I see it, her eyes depose it to be true; what then? and if she can love poor me, shall I think scorn to love such a woman as Zelmane? Away than all vain examinations of why and how. Thou lovest me, excellent Zelmane, and I love thee: and with that, embracing the very ground whereon she lay, she said to herself (for even to herself she was ashamed to speak it out in words) OH my Zelmane, govern and direct me: for I am wholly given over unto thee.   

CHAP. 5.  
¹ The bedfellow communication of Philoclea and Pamela. ² Pamela's narration of her shepherds making love, ³ of Dorus and Dam horsemanshippe, ⁴ of his hot pursuit, and her cold acceptance. ⁵ His letter. ⁶ Her relenting, ⁷ and Philoclea's sole complaint.  
argument key no. 1 IN this depth of muzes, and divers sorts of discourses, would she have ravingly remained, but that Dam and Miso (who were round about to seek her, understanding she was to come to their lodge that night) come hard by her; Dam saying, That he would not deal in other bodies matters; but for his part, he did not like that maids should once stir out of their father's houses, but if it were to milk a cow, or save a chicken from a kites foot, or some such other matter of importance. And Miso swearing that if it were her daughter Mopsa, she would give her a lesson for walking so late, that should make her keep within doors for one fortnight. But their jangling made Philoclea rise, and pretending as though she had done it but to sport with them, went with them (after she had willed Miso to wait upon her mother) to the lodge; where (being now accustomed by her parent's discipline, as well as her sister, to serve herself) she went alone up to Pamela's chamber: where meaning to delight her eyes, and joy her thoughts with the sweet conversation of her beloved sister, she found her (though it were in the time that the wings of night doth blow sleep most willingly into mortal creatures) sitting in a chair, lying backward, with her head almost over the back of it, & looking upon a wax-candle which burned before her; in one hand holding a letter, in the other her handkerchief, which had lately drunk up the tears of her eyes, leaving in steed of them, crimson circles, like red flakes in the element, when the weather is hottest. Which Philoclea finding (for her eyes had learned to know the badges of sorrows) she earnestly entreated to know the cause thereof, that either she might comfort, or accompany her doleful humour. But Pamela, rather seeming sorry that she had perceived so much, then willing to open any further, OH my Pamela (said Philoclea) who are to me a sister in nature, a mother in counsel, a Princess by the law of our country, and which name (me think) of all other is the dearest, a friend by my choice and your favour, what means this banishing me from your counsels? Do you love your sorrow so well, as to grudge me part of it? Or do you think I shall not love a sad Pamela, so well as a joyful? Or be my ears unworthy, or my tongue suspected? What is it (my sister) that you should conceal from your sister, yea and servant Philoclea? These words wan no further of Pamela, but that telling her they might talk better as they lay together, they impoverished their clothes to enrich their bed, which for that night might well scorn the shrine of Venus: and there cherishing one another with dear, though chaste embracements; with sweet, though cold kisses; it might seem that Love was come to play him there without dart; or that weary of his own fires, he was there to refresh himself between their sweetebreathing lips. But Philoclea earnestly again entreated Pamela to open her grief; who (drawing the curtain, that the candle might not complain of her blushing) was ready to speak: but the breath almost form into words, was again stopped by her, and turned into sighs. But at last, I pray you (said she) sweet Philoclea, let us talk of some other thing: & tell me whither you did ever see any thing so amended as our Pastoral sports be, since that Dorus come hither? OH Love, how far thou feest with blind eyes? Philoclea had strait found her, and therefore to draw out more, In deed (said she) I have often wondered to myself how such excellencies could be in so mean a person; but belike Fortune was afraid to lay her treasures, where they should be stained with so many perfections: only I marvel how he can frame himself to hide so rare gifts under such a block as Dam. Ah (said Pamela) if you knew the cause: but no more do I neither; and to say the truth: but Lord, how are we fallen to talk of this fellow? and yet indeed if you were sometimes with me to mark him, while Dam reads his rustic lecture unto him (how to feed his beasts before noon, where to shade them in the extreme heat, how to make the manger handsome for his oxen, when to use the goad, & when the voice: giving him rules of a herdman, though he pretended to make him a shepherd) to see all the while with what a grace (which seems to set a crown upon his base estate) he can descend to those poor matters, certainly you would: but to what serves this? no doubt we were better sleep then talk of these idle matters. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) I have caught you, the constantness of your wit was not wont to bring forth such disjointed speeches: you love, dissemble no further. It is true (said Pamela) now you have it; and with less ado should, if my heart could have thought those words suitable for my mouth. But indeed (my Philoclea) take heed: for I think Virtue itself is no armour of proof against affection. Therefore learn by my example. Alas thought Philoclea to herself, your shears come to late to clip the birds wings that already is flown away.  
But then Pamela being once set in the stream of her argument key no. 2 Love, went away a main withal, telling her how his noble qualities had drawn her liking towards him; but yet ever weighing his meanness, & so held continually in due limits; till seeking many means to speak with her, & ever kept from it (as well because she shunned it, sing and disdaining his mind, as because of her jealous iaylours) he had at length used the finest policy that might be in counterfeiting love to Mopsa, & saying to Mopsa what soever he would have her know: and in how passionate manner he had told his own tale in a third person, making poor Mopsa believe, that it was a matter fallen out many ages before. And in the end, because you shall know my tears come not, neither of repentance nor misery, who think you, is my Dorus fallen out to be? even the Prince, Musidorus, famous over all Asia, for his heroical enterprises, of whom you remember how much good the stranger Plangus told my father; he not being drowned (as Plangus thought) though his cousin Pyrocles indeed perished. Ah my sister, if you had heard his words, or seen his gestures, when he made me know what, and to whom his love was, you would have matched in yourself (those two rarely matched together) pity and delight. Tell me dear sister (for the gods are my witnesses I desire to do virtuously) can I without the detestable stain of ungratefulness abstain from loving him, who (far exceeding the beautifulness of his shape with the beautifulness of his mind, and the greatness of his estate with the greatness of his acts) is content so to abase himself, as to become Dametas' servant for my sake? you will say, but how know I him to be Musidorus, since the handmaid of wisdom is slow belief? That consideration did not want in me, for the nature of desire itself is no easier to receive belief, than it is hard to ground belief. For as desire is glad to embrace the first show of comfort, so is desire desirous of perfect assurance: and that have I had of him, not only by necessary arguments to any of common sense, but by sufficient demonstrations. Lastly he would have me sand to Thessalia: but truly I am not as now in mind to do my honourable Love so much wrong, as so far to suspect him: yet poor soul knows he no other, but that I do both suspect, neglect, yea & detest him. For every day he finds one way or other to set forth himself unto me, but all are rewarded with like coldness of acceptation.  
argument key no. 3 A few days since, he & Dam had furnished themselves very richly to run at the ring before me. OH how mad a sight it was to see Dam, like rich Tissue furred with lamb skins? But o how well it did with Dorus, to see with what a grace he presented himself before me on horseback, making majesty wait upon humbleness? how at the first, standing still with his eyes bend upon me, as though his motions were chained to my look, he so staid till I caused Mopsa bid him do something upon his horse: which no sooner said, but (with a kind rather of quick gesture, then show of violence) you might see him come towards me, beating the ground in so due time, as no dance can observe better measure. If you remember the ship we seen once, when the Sea went high upon the coast of Argos; so went the beast: But he (as if Centaurlike he had been one piece with the horse) was no more moved, than one is with the going of his own legs: and in effect so did he command him, as his own limbs, for though he had both spurs and wand, they seemed rather marks of sovereignty, than instruments of punishment; his hand and leg (with most pleasing grace) commanding without threatening, & rather remembering then chastising, at least if sometimes he did, it was so stolen, as neither our eyes could discern it, nor the horse with any chance did complain of it, he ever going so just with the horse, either forth right, or turning, that it seemed as he borrowed the horses body, so he lent the horse his mind: in the turning one might perceive the bridle-hand something gently stir, but indeed so gently, as it did rather distill virtue, then use violence. Himself (which me thinks is strange) showing at one instant both steadiness & nimbleness; sometimes making him turn close to the ground, like a cat, when scratchingly she wheels about after a mouse: sometimes with a little more rising before, now like a Raven leaping from ridge to ridge, then like one of Dam kids bound over the hillocks: and all so done, as neither the lusty kind showed any roughness, nor the easier any idleness: but still like a well obeyed master, whose beck is enough for a discipline, ever concluding each thing he did with his face to me-wards, as if thence come not only the beginning, but ending of his motions. The sport was to see Dam, how he was tossed from the saddle to the mane of the horse, and thence to the ground, giving his gay apparel almost as soul an outside, as it had an inside. But as before he had ever said, he wanted but horse & apparel to be as brave a courtier as the best, so now bruised with proof, he proclaimed it a folly for a man of wisdom, to put himself under the tuition of a beast; so as Dorus was feign alone to take the Ring. Wherein truly at jest my womanish eyes could not discern, but that taking his staff from his thigh, the descending it a little down, the getting of it up into the rest, the letting of the point fall, and taking the ring was but all one motion, at least (if they were divers motions) they did so stealingly slip one into another, as the latter part was ever in hand, before the eye could discern the former was ended. Indeed Dam found fault that he showed no more strength in shaking of his staff: but to my conceit the fine clearness of bearing it was exceeding delightful.  
argument key no. 4 But how delightful soever it was, my delight might well be in my soul, but it never went to look out of the window to do him any comfort. But how much more I found reason to like him, the more I set all the strength of mind to suppress it, or at least to conceal it. Indeed I must confess, as some Physicians have told me, that when one is cold outwardly, he is not inwardly; so truly the cold ashes laid upon my fire, did not take the nature of fire from it. Full often hath my breast swollen with keeping my sighs imprisoned; full often have the tears, I drove back from my eyes, turned back to drown my heart. But alas what did that help poor Dorus? whose eyes (being his diligent intelligencers) could carry unto him no other news, but uncomfortable. I think no day past, but by some on invention he would appear unto me to testify his love. One time he danced the Matachine dance in armour (OH with what a graceful dexterity?) I think to make me see, that he had been brought up in such exercises: an other time he persuaded his master (to make my time seem shorter) in manner of a Dialogue, to play Priamus while he played Paris. Think (sweet Philoclea) what a Priamus we had: but truly, my Paris was a Paris, and more than a Paris: who while in a savage apparel, with naked neck, arms, and legs, he made love to Ocnone, you might well see by his changed countenance, and true tears, that he felt the part he played. Tell me (sweet Philoclea) did you ever see such a shepherd? tell me, did you ever hear of such a Prince? And than tell me, if a small or unworthy assault have conquered me. Truly I would hate my life, if I thought vanity led me. But since my parents deal so cruelly with me, it is time for me to trust something to my own judgement. Yet hitherto have my looks been as I told you, which continuing after many of these his fruitless trials, have wrought such change in him, as I tell you true (with that word she laid her hand upon her quaking side) I do not a little fear him. See what a letter this is (than drew she the curtain and took the letter from under the pillow) which to day (with an afflicted humbleness) he delivered me, pretending before Mopsa, that I should read it unto her, to mollify (forsooth) her iron stomach; with that she read the letter containing thus much.  
argument key no. 5 MOst blessed paper, which shalt kiss that hand, where to all blessedness is in nature a servant, do not yet disdain to carry with thee the woeful words of a miser now despairing: neither be afraid to appear before her, bearing the base title of the sender. For no sooner shall that divine hand touch thee, but that thy baseness shall be turned to most high preferment. Therefore mourn boldly my Ink; for while she looks upon you, your blackness will shine: cry out boldly my Lamentation; for while she reads you, your cries will be music. Say then (OH happy messenger of a most unhappy message) that the too soon borne, too late dying creature, which dares not speak, not not look, not not scarcely think (as from his miserable self, unto her heavenly highness) only presumes to desire thee (in the time that her eyes and voice do exalt thee) to say, and in this manner to say, not from him, OH not, that were not fit, but of him. Thus much unto her sacred judgement: OH you, the only, the only honour to women, to men the only admiration, you that being armed by Love, defy him that armed you, in this high estate wherein you have placed me, yet let me remember him to whom I am bound for bringing me to your presence; and let me remember him, who (since he is yours, how mean so ever it be) it is reason you have an account of him. The wretch (yet your wretch) though with languishing steps runs fast to his grave, and will you suffer a temple (how poorely-built soever, but yet a temple of your deity) to be razed? But he dieth: it is most true, he dieth; and he in whom you live, to obey you, dieth. Whereof though he plain, he doth not complain: for it is a harm, but no wrong, which he hath received. He dies, because in woeful language all his senses tell him ', that such is your pleasure: for since you will not that he live, alas, alas, what follows, what follows of the most ruined Dorus, but his end? End then, evil destinyed Dorus, end; and end thou woeful letter, end; for it sufficeth her wisdom to know, that her heavenly will shallbe accomplished.  
OH my Philoclea, is he a person to writ these argument key no. 6 words? and are these words lightly to be regarded? But if you had seen, when with trembling hand he had delivered it, how he went away, as if he had been but the coffin that carried himself to his sepulchre. Two times I must confess I was about to take courtesy into my eyes; but both times the former resolution stopped the entry of it: so that he departed without obtaining any further kindness. But he was no sooner out of the door, but that I looked to the door kindly; and truly the fear of him ever since hath put me into such perplexity, as now you found me. Ah my Pamela (said Philoclea) leave sorrow. The river of your tears will soon lose his fountain; it is in your hand as well to stitch up his life again, as it was before to rend it. And so (though with self-grieved mind) she comforted her sister, till sleep come to bathe himself in Pamelaes' fair weeping eyes.  
argument key no. 7 Which when Philoclea found, wring her hands, OH me (said she) indeed the only subject of the destinies displeasure, whose greatest fortunatenes is more unfortunate, than my sister's greatest unfortunatenesse. Alas she weeps because she would be no sooner happy; I weep because I can never be happy; her tears flow from pity; my from being too far lower than the reach of pity. Yet do I not envy thee, dear Pamela, I do not envy thee: only I could wish that being thy sister in nature, I were not so far off a kin in fortune.   

CHAP. 6.  
¹ The Ladies uprising, ² and interrogatories to Dorus concerning Pyrocles and Euarchus. ³ His historiologie of Euarchus kingly excellencies, ⁴ his entry on a most corrupt estate, ⁵ and reformation thereof by royal arts and actions. ⁶ His, and Dorilaus crosse-mariage to each others sister, having by each a son; their mutual defence, with Dorilaus death.  
argument key no. 1 But the darkness of sorrow overshadowing her mind, as the night did her eyes, they were both content to hide themselves under the wings of sleep, till the next morning had almost lost his name, before the two sweet sleeping sisters awaked from dreams, which flattered them with more comfort, than their waking could, or would consent unto. For than they were called up by Miso; who having been with Gynccia, had received commandment to be continually with her daughters, and particularly not to let Zelmane and Philoclea have any private conference, but that she should be present to hear what passed. But Miso having now her authority increased, come with scowling eyes to deliver a slavering good morrow to the two Ladies, telling them, it was a shame for them to mar their complexions, yea and conditions to, with long lying a bed: & that, when she was of their age, she trowed, she would have made a handkerchief by that time of the day. The two sweet Princes with a smiling silence answered her entertainment, and obeying her direction, covered their dainty beauties with the glad clotheses. But as soon as Pamela was ready (& sooner she was then her sister) the agony of Dorus giving a fit to herself, which the words of his letter (lively imprinted in her mind) still remembered her of, she called to Mopsa, and willed her to fetch Dorus to speak with her: because (she said) she woule take further judgement of him, before she would move Dam to grant her in marriage unto him. Mopsa (as glad as of sweete-meate to go of such an arrant) quickly returned with Dorus to Pamela, who intended both by speaking with him to give some comfort to his passionate heart, and withal to hear some part of his life past; which although fame had already delivered unto her, yet she desired in more particular certainties to have it from so beloved an historian. Yet the sweetness of virtues disposition jealous, even over itself, suffered her not to enter abruptly into questions of Musidorus (whom she was half ashamed she did love so well, and more than half sorry she could love no better) but thought best first to make her talk arise of Pyrocles, and his virtuous father: which thus she did.  
argument key no. 2 Dorus (said she) you told me the last day, that Plangus was deceived in that he affirmed the Prince Musidorus was drowned: but withal, you confessed his cozen Pyrocles perished; of whom certainly in that age there was a great loss, since (as I have heard) he was a young Prince, of whom all men expected as much, as man's power could bring forth, & yet virtue promised for him, their expectation should not be deceived. Most excellent Lady (said Dorus) no expectation in others, nor hope in himself could aspire to a higher mark, them to be thought worthy to be praised by your judgement, & made worthy to be praised by your mouth. But most sure it is, that as his fame could by no means get so sweet & noble an air to fly in, as in your breath, so could not you (leaving, yourself aside) find in the world a fit subject of commendation; as noble, as a long succession of royal ancestors, famous, and famous of victories could make him: of shape most lovely, and yet of mind more lovely; valiant, courteous, wise, what should I say more? sweet Pyrocles, excellent Pyrocles, what can my words but wrong thy perfections, which I would to God in some small measure thou hadst bequeathed to him that ever must have thy virtues in admiration; that masked at lest in them, I might have found some more gracious acceptation? with that he imprisoned his look for a while upon Mopsa, who thereupon fell into a very wide smiling. Truly (said Pamela) Dorus I like well your mind, that can raise itself out of so base a fortune, as yours is, to think of the imitating so excellent a Prince, as Pyrocles was. Who shoots at the midday Sun, though he be sure he shall never hit the mark; yet as sure he is, he shall shoot higher, than who aims but at a bush. But I pray you Dorus (said she) tell me (since I perceive you are well acquainted with that story) what Prince was that Euarchus father to Pyrocles, of whom so much fame goes, for his rightly royal virtues, or by what ways he got that opinion. And then so descend to the causes of his sending first away from him, and then to him for that excellent son of his, with the discourse of his life and loss: and therein you may (if you list) say something of that same Musidorus his cozen, because, they going together, the story of Pyrocles (which I only desire) may be the better understood.  
Incomparable Lady (said he) your commandment argument key no. 3 doth not only give me the will, but the power to obey you, such influence hath your excellency. And first, for that famous King Huarchus, he was (at this time you speak off) King of Macedon, a kingdom, which in elder time had such a sovereignty over all the provinces of Greece, that even the particular kings therein did acknowledge (with more or less degrees of homage) some kind of fealty thereunto: as among the rest, even this now most noble (and by you ennobled) kingdom of Arcadia. But he, when he come to his crown finding by his later ancestors either negligence, or misfortune, that in some ages many of those duties had been intermitted, would never stir up old titles (how apparent soever) whereby the public peace (with the loss of many not guilty souls) should be broken; but contenting himself to guide that ship, wherein the heavens had placed him, showed no less magnanimity in dangerless despising, than others in dangerous affecting the multiplying of kingdoms: for the earth hath since borne enough bleeding witnesses, that it was no want of true courage. Who as he was most wise to see what was best, and most just in the performing what he seen, & temperate in abstaining from any thing any way contrary: so think I, no thought can imagine a greater heart to see and contemn danger, where danger would offer to make any wrongful threatening upon him. A Prince, that indeed especially measured his greatness by his goodness: and if for any thing he loved greatness, it was, because therein he might exercise his goodness. A Prince of a goodly aspect, and the more goodly by a grave majesty, wherewith his mind did deck his outward graces; strong of body, and so much the stronger, as he by a well disciplined exercise taught it both to do, and suffer. Of age, so as he was about fifty years when his Nephew Musidorus took on such shepherdish apparel for the love of the world's paragon, as I now wear.  
argument key no. 4 This King left Orphan both of father and mother, (whose father & grandfather likewise had died young) he found his estate, when he come to age (which allowed his authority) so disjointed even in the noblest & strongest limbs of government, that the name of a King was grown even odious to the people, his authority having been abused by those great Lords, & little kings: who in those betweene-times of reigning (by unjust favouring ring those that were partially theirs, & oppressing them that would defend their liberty against them had brought in (by a more felt then seen manner of proceeding) the worst kind of Oligarchy; that is, when men are governed in deed by a few, and yet are not taught to know what those few be, to whom they should obey. For they having the power of kings, but not the nature of kings, used the authority as men do their farms, of which they see within a year they shall go out: making the kings sword strike whom they hated, the King's purse reward whom they loved: and (which is worst of all) making the Royal countenance serve to undermine the Royal sovereignty. For the Subjects could taste no sweeter fruits of having a King, then grievous taxations to serve vain purposes; Laws made rather to find faults, then to prevent faults: the Court of a Prince rather deemed as a privileged place of unbridled licentiousness, then as a biding of him, who as a father, should give a fatherly example unto his people. Hence grew a very dissolution of all estates, while the great men (by the nature of ambition never satisfied) grew factious among themselves: and the underlings, glad indeed to be underlings to them they hated left, to preserve them from such they hated most. Men of virtue suppressed, jest their shining should discover the others filthiness; and at length virtue itself almost forgotten, when it had no hopeful end whereunto to be directed; old men long nuzzled in corruption, scorning them that would seek reformation; young men very faultfinding, but very faulty: and so to newfangledness both of manners, apparel, and each thing else, by the custom of selfe-guiltie evil, glad to change though often for a worse; merchandise abused, and so towns decayed for want of just and natural liberty; offices, even of judging souls, sold; public defences neglected; and in sum, (left too long I trouble you) all awry, and (which wried it to the most wry course of all) wit abused, rather to feign reason why it should be amiss, than how it should be amended.  
argument key no. 5 In this, and a much worse plight than it is fit to trouble your excellent ears withal, did the King Enarchus find his estate, when he took upon him the regiment: which by reason of the long stream of abuse, he was forced to establish by some even extreme severity, not so much for the very faults themselves, (which he rather sought to prevent then to punish) as for the faulty ones; who strong, even in their faults, scorned his youth, and could not learn to disggest, that the man which they so long had used to mask their own appetites, should now be the reducer of them into order. But so soon as some few (but in deed notable) examples, had thundered a duty into the subjects hearts, he soon showed, no baseness of suspicion, nor the basest baseness of envy, could any whit rule such a Ruler. But then shined forth indeed all love among them, when an awful fear, engendered by justice, did make that love most lovely: his first & principal care being to appear unto his people, such as he would have them be, & to be such as he appeared; making his life the example of his laws, as it were; his actions arising out of his deeds. So that within small time, he wan a singular love in his people, and engrassed singular confidence. For how could they choose but love him, whom they found so truly to love them? He even in reason disdaining, that they that have charge of beasts, should love their charge, and care for them; and that he that was to govern the most excellent creature, should not love so noble a charge. And therefore, where most Princes (seduced by flattery to build upon false grounds of government) make themselves (as it were) another thing from the people; and so count it gain what they can get from them: and (as if it were two counter-ballances, that their estate goes highest when the people goes lowest) by a fallacy of argument thinking themselves most Kings, when the subject is most basely subjecteth: he contrariwise, virtuously and wisely acknowledging, that he with his people made all but one politic body, whereof himself was the head; even so cared for them, as he would for his own limbs: never restraining their liberty, without it stretched to licentiousness, norpulling from them their goods, which they found were not employed to the purchase of a greater good: but in all his actions showing a delight to their welfare, brought that to pass, that while by force he took nothing, by their love he had all. In sum (peerless Princess) I might as easily set down the whole Arte of government, as to lay before your eyes the picture of his proceed. But in such forte he flourished in the sweet comfort of doing much good, when by an action of leaving his Country, he was forced to bring forth his virtue of magnanimity, as before he had done of justice.  
argument key no. 6 He had only one sister, a Lady (left I should too easily fall to partial praises of her) of whom it may be justly said, that she was no unfit branch to the noble stock where of she come. Her he had given in marriage to Dorilaus, Prince of Thessalia, not so much to make a friendship, as to confirm the friendship betwixt their posterity, which between them, by the likeness of virtue, had been long before made: for certainly, Dorilaus could need no amplifiers mouth for the highest point of praise. Who hath not head (said Pamela) of the valiant, wife, and just Dorilaus, whose unripe death doth yet (so many years since) draw tears from virtuous eyes?. And indeed, my father is wont to speak of nothing with greater admiration, then of the notable friendship (a rare thing in Princes, more rare between Princes) that so holily was observed to the last, of those two excellent men. But (said she) go on I pray you. Dorilaus (said he) having married his sister, had his marriage in short time blest (for so are folk wont to say, how unhappy soever the children after grow) with a son, whom they named Musidorus: of whom I must needs first speak before I come to Pyrocles; because as he was borne first, so upon his occasion grew (as I may say accidentally) the others birth. For scarcely was Musidorus made partaker of this oft-blinding light, when there were found numbers of Soothsayers, who affirmed strange & incredible things should be performed by that child; whither the heavens at that time listed to play with ignorant mankind, or that flattery be so presumptuous, as even at times to borrow the face of Divinity. But certainly, so did the boldness of their affirmation accompany the greatness of what they did affirm (even descending to particularities, what kingdoms he should overcome) that the King of Phrygia (who over-superstitiously thought himself touched in the matter) sought by force to destroy the infant, to prevent his after-expectations: because a skilful man (having compared his nativity with the child) so told him. Foolish man, either vainly fearing what was not to be feared, or not considering, that if it were a work of the superior powers, the heavens at length are never children. But so he did, & by the aid of the Kings of Lydia and Crete (joining together their armies) invaded Thessalia, & brought Dorilaus to some behind-hand of fortune, when his faithful friend & brother Euarchus come so mightily to his succour, that with some interchanging changes of fortune, they begat of a just war, the best child, peace. In which time Euarchus made a cross marriage also with Dorilaus his sister, & shortly left her with child of the famous Pyrocles, driven to return to the defence of his own country, which in his absence (helped with some of the ill contented nobility) the mighty King of Thrace, & his brother, King of Pannonia, had invaded. The success of those wars was too notable to be unknown to your ears, to which it seems all worthy same hath glory to come unto. But there was Dorilaus (valiantly requiting his friends help) in a great battle deprived of his life, his obsequies being no more solennised by the tears of his partakers, then the blood of his enemies; with so piercing a sorrow to the constant heart of Euarchus, that the news of his son's birth could lighten his countenance with no show of comfort, although all the comfort that might be in a child, truth itself in him forthwith delivered. For what fortune only soothsayers foretold of Musidorus, that all men might see prognosticated in Pyrocles; both Heavens & Earth giving tokens of the coming forth of an Heroical virtue. The senate house of the planets was at no time to set, for the decreeing of perfection in a man, as at that time all folks skilful therein did acknowledge: only love was threatened, and promised to him, and so to his cousin, as both the tempest and haven of their best years. But as death may have prevented Pyrocles, so unworthiness must be the death to Musidorus.   

CHAP. 7.  
¹ The education of Pyrocles & Musidorus. ² Their friendship, ³ navigation, ⁴ and first shipwreck. ⁵ The strange gratitude of two brothers to them, upon their liberality to those two brothers.  
argument key no. 1 But the mother of Pyrocles (shortly after her childbirth) dying, was cause that Euarchus recommended the care of his only son to his sister; doing it the rather because the war continued in cruel heat, betwixt him & those evil neighbours of his. In which mean time those young Princes (the only comforters of that virtuous widow) grew on so, that Pyrocles taught admiration to the hardest conceits: Musidorus (perchance because among his subjects) exceedingly beloved: and by the good order of Euarchus (well performed by his sister) they were so brought up, that all the sparks of virtue, which nature had kindled in them, were so blown to give forth their uttermost heat that justly it may be affirmed, they inflamed the affections of all that knew them. For almost before they could perfectly speak, they began to receive conceits not unworthy of the best speakers: excellent devices being used, to make even their sports profitable; images of battles, & fortifications being then delivered to their memory, which after, their stronger judgements might dispens, the delight of tales being converted to the knowledge of all the stories of worthy Princes, both to move them to do nobly, & teach them how to do nobly; the beauty of virtue still being set before their eyes, & that taught them with far more diligent care, then Grammatical rules, their bodies exercised in all abilities, both of doing and suffering, & their minds acquainted by degrees with dangers; & in sum, all bent to the making up of princely minds: not servile fear used towards them, nor any other violent restraint, but still as to Princes: so that a habit of commanding was naturalised in them, and therefore the farther from Tyranny: Nature having done so much for them in nothing, as that it made them Lords of truth, whereon all the other goods were builded.  
Among which I nothing so much delight to recount, argument key no. 2 as the memorable friendship that grew betwixt the two Princes, such as made them more like than the likeness of all other virtues, and made them more near one to the other, than the nearness of their blood could aspire unto; which I think grew the faster, and the faster was tied between them, by reason that Musidorus being elder by three or four years, it was neither so great a difference in age as did take away the delight in society, and yet by the difference there was taken away the occasion of childish contentions; till they had both past over the humour of such contentions. For Pyrocles bore reverence full of love to Musidorus, & Musidorus had a delight full of love in Pyrocles. Musidorus, what he had learned either for body or mind, would teach it to Pyrocles; and Pyrocles was so glad to learn of noon, as of Musidorus: till Pyrocles, being come to sixteen years of age, he seemed so to overrun his age in growth, strength, and all things following it, that not Musidorus, not nor any man living (I think) could perform any action, either on horse, or foot, more strongly, or deliver that strength more nimbly, or become the delivery more gracefully, or employ all more virtuously. Which may well seem wonderful: but wonders are no wonders in a wonderful subject.  
argument key no. 3 At which time understanding that the King Euarchus, after so many years war, and the conquest of all Pannonia, and almost Thrace, had now brought the conclusion of all to the siege of Byzantium (to the raising of which siege great forces were made) they would needs fall to the practice of those virtues, which they before learned. And therefore the mother of Musidorus nobly yielding over her own affects to her children's good (for a mother she was in effect to them both) the rather that they might help her beloved brother, they broke of all delays; which Musidorus for his part thought already had devoured too much of his good time, but that he had once granted a boon (before he knew what it was) to his dear friend Pyrocles; that he would never seek the adventures of arms, until he might go with him: which having fast bound his heart (a true slave to faith) he had bid a tedious delay of following his own humour for his friends sake, till now finding him able every way to go thorough with that kind of life, he was as desirous for his sake, as for his own, to enter into it. So therefore preparing a navy, that they might go like themselves, and not only bring the comfort of their presence, but of their power to their dear parent Euarchus, they recommended themselves to the Sea, leaving the shore of Thessalia full of tears and vows; and were received thereon with so smooth and smiling a face, as if Neptune had as then learned falsely to fawn on Princes. The wind was like a servant, waiting behind them so just, that they might fill the sails as they listed; and the best sailors showing themselves less covetous of his liberality, so tempered it, that they all kept together like a beautiful flock, which so well could obey their masters pipe: without sometimes, to delight the Princes eyes, some two or three of them would strive, who could (either by the cunning of well spending the winds breath, or by the advantageous building of their moving houses) leave their fellows behind them in the honour of speed: while the two Princes had leisure to see the practice of that, which before they had learned by books: to consider the art of catching the wind prisoner, to no other end, but to run away with it; to see how beauty, and use can so well agreed together, that of all the trinkets, where with they are attired, there is not one but serves to some necessary purpose. And (o Lord) to see the admirable power & noble effects of Love, whereby the seeming insensible Loadstone, with a secret beauty (holding the spirit of iron in it) can draw that hard-hearted thing unto it, and (like a virtuous mistress) not only make it bow itself, but with it make it aspire to so high a Love, as of the heavenly Poles; and thereby to bring forth the noblest deeds, that the children of the Earth can boast of. And so the Princes delighting their conceits with confirming their knowledge, sing wherein the Sea-discipline differed from land-service, they had for a day & almost a whole night, as pleasing entertainment, as the falsest heart could give to him he means worst to.  
argument key no. 4 But by that the next morning began a little to make a guilden show of a good meaning, there arose even with the Sun, a vail of dark clouds before his face, which shortly (like ink powered into water) had blacked over all the face of heaven; preparing (as it were) a mournful stage for a Tragedy to be played on. For forthwith the winds began to speak louder, and as in a tumultuous kingdom, to think themselves fittest instruments of commandment; and blowing whole storms of hail and rain upon them, they were sooner in danger, than they could almost bethink themselves of change. For then the traitorous Sea began to swell in pride against the afflicted Navy, under which (while the heaven favoured them) it had lain so calmly, making mountains of itself, over which the tossed and tottering ship should climb, to be strength carried down again to a pit of hellish darkness; with such cruel blows against the sides of the ship (that which way soever it went, was still in his malice) that there was left neither power to stay, nor way to escape. And shortly had it so diffevered the loving company, which the day before had tarried together, that most of them never met again, but were swallowed up in his never-satisfied mouth. Some indeed (as since was known) after long wandering returned into Thessalia; other recovered Byzantium, and served Euarchus in his war. But in the ship wherein the Princes were (now left as much alone as proud Lords be when fortune fails them) though they employed all industry to save themselves, yet what they did was rather for duty to nature, then hope to escape. So ugly a darkness, as if it would prevent the nights coming, usurped the days right: which (accompanied sometimes with thunders, always with horrible noises of the chase winds) made the masters and pilors so astonished, that they knew not how to direct, and if they knew they could scarcely (when they directed) hear their own whistle. For the sea strove with the winds which should be louder, & the shrouds of the ship with a ghastful noise to them that were in it, witnessed, that their ruin was the wager of the others contention, and the heaven roaring out thunders the more amazed them, as having those powers for enemies. Certainly there is no danger carries with it more horror, then that which grows in those flowing kingdoms. For that dwelling place is unnatural to mankind, and then the terribleness of the continual motion, the dissolution of the far being from comfort, the eye and the ear having ugly images ever before it, doth still vex the mind, even when it is best armed against it. But thus the day past (if that might be called a day) while the cunningest mariners were so conquered by the storm, as they thought it best with striking sails to yield to be governed by it: the valiantest feeling inward dismaidness, and yet the fearfullest ashamed fully to show it, seeing that the Princes (who were to part from the greatest fortunes) did in their countenances accuse no point of fear, but encouraging them to do what might be done (putting their hands to every most painful office) taught them at one instant to promise' themselves the best, and yet not to despise the worst. But so were they carried by the tyranny of the wind, and the treason of the sea, all that night, which the elder it was, the more wayward it showed itself towards them: till the next morning (known to be a morning better by the hourglass, then by the day clearness) having run fortune as blindly, as itself ever was painted, jest the conclusion should not answer to the rest of the play, they were driven upon a rock: which hidden with those outrageous waves, did, as it were, closely dissemble his cruel mind, till with an unbelieved violence (but to them that have tried it) the ship ran upon it; and seeming willinger to perish then to have her course stayed, redoubled her blows, till she had broken herself in pieces; and as it were tearing out her own bowels to feed the seas greediness, left nothing within it but despair of safety, and expectation of a loathsome end. There was to be seen the diverse manner of minds in distress: some sat upon the top of the poop weeping and wailing, till the sea swallowed them; some one more able to abide death, then fear of death, cut his own throat to prevent drowning; some prayed, and there wanted not of them which cursed, as if the heavens could not be more angry than they were. But a monstrous cry begotten of many roaring vows, was able to infect with fear a mind that had not prevented it with the power of reason.  
But the Princes using the passions of fearing evil, argument key no. 5 and desiring to escape, only to serve the rule of virtue, not to abandon one's self, leapt to a rib of the ship, which broken from his fellows, floated with more likely hood to do service, than any other limb of that ruinous body; upon which there had gotten already two brethren, well known servants of theirs; and strength they sour were carried out of sight, in that huge rising of the sea, from the rest of the ship. But the piece they were on sinking by little and little under them, not able to support the weight of so many, the brethren (the elder whereof was Leucippus, the younger Nelsus) showed themselves right faithful and grateful servants unto them; grateful (I say) for this cause: Those two gentlemen had been taken prisoners in the great war the king of Phrygia made upon Thessalia, in the time of Musidorus his infancy; and having been sold into another country (though peace fell after between these Realms) could not be delivered, because of their valour known, but for a far greater sum, then either all their friends were able, or the Dowager willing to make, in respect of the great expenses herself and people had been put to in those wars; and so had they remained in prison about thirteen years, when the two young Princes (hearing speeches of their good deserts) found means both by selling all the jewels they had of great price, and by giving under their hands great estates when they should come to be Kings (which promises their virtue promised for them should be kept) to get so much treasure as redeemed them from captivity. This remembered, and kindly remembered by these two brothers, perchance helped by a natural duty to their Prince's blood, they willingly left hold of the board, committing themselves to the seas rage, & even when they went to die, themselves praying for the Prince's lives. It is true, that neither the pain nor danger, so moved the Princes hearts as the tenderness of that loving part, far from glory, having so few lookers on; far from hope of reward, since themselves were sure to perish.   

CHAP. 8.  
¹ Pyrocles cast on the shore of Phrygia ² led prisoner to the King. ³ That suspicious tyrant naturalised. ⁴ His intent to kill Pyrocles. ⁵ Musidorus-his escape from sea, and offer to die for his friend. ⁶ Their contention for death. ⁷ Preparation for Musidorus execution. ⁸ His strange delivery by Pyrocles, ⁹ and a sudden mutiny. ¹⁰ Their kill the bad King, ¹¹ and creating a better.  
argument key no. 1 But now of all the royal Navy they had left but one piece of one ship, whereon they kept themselves in all truth, having enterchaunged their cares, while either cared for other, each comforting and counciling how to labour for the better, and to abide the worse. But so fell it out, that as they were carried by the tide (which there seconded by the storm ran exceedingly swiftly) Musidorus seeing (as he thought) Pyrocles not well upon the board, as he would with his right hand have helped him on better, he had no sooner unfastned his hold, but that a wave forcibly spoiled his weaker hand of hold; and so for a time parted those friends, each crying to the other, but the noise of the sea drowned their farewell. But Pyrocles (then careless of death, if it had come by any means, but his own) was shortly brought out of the seas fury to the lands comfort; when (in my conscience I know) that comfort was but bitter unto him. And bitter indeed it fell out even in itself to be unto him.  
For being cast on land much bruised & beaten both argument key no. 2 with the seas hard farewell, and the shores rude welcome; and even almost deadly tired with the length of his uncomfortable labour, as he was walking up to discover some body, to whom he might go for relief, there come strength running unto him certain, who (as it was after known) by appointment watched (with many others) in diverse places along the coast: who laid hands of him, and without either questioning with him, or showing will to hear him, (like men fearful to appear curious) or which was worse having no regard to the hard plight he was in (being so wet and weak) they carried him some miles thence, to a house of a principal officer of that country. Who with no more civility (though with much more business than those under-fellowes had showed) began in captious manner to put interrogatories unto him. To which he (unused to such entertainment) did shortly and plainly answer, what he was, and how he come thither.  
But that no sooner known, with numbers of armed men to guard him (for mischief, not from mischief) he was sent to the King's court, which as then was not above a days journey off, with letters from that officer, containing his own serviceable diligence in discovering so great a parsonage; adding with all more than was true of his conjectures, because he would endear his own service.  
argument key no. 3 This country whereon he fell was Phrygia, and it was to the King thereof to whom he was sent, a Prince of a melancholy constitution both of body and mind; wickedly sad, ever musing of horrible matters; suspecting, or rather condemning all men of evil, because his mind had no eye to espy goodness: and therefore accusing sycophants, of all men did best sort to his nature; but therefore not seeming sycophants, because of no evil they said, they could bring any new or doubtful thing unto him, but such as already he had been apt to determine; so as they come but as proofs of his wisdom: fearful and never secure; while the fear he had figured in his mind had any possibility of event. A tode-like retiredness, and closeness of mind; nature teaching the odiousness of poison, and the danger of odiousness. Yet while youth lasted in him, the exercises of that age, and his humour (not yet fully discovered) made him something the more frequentable, and less dangerous. But after that years began to come on with some, though more seldom shows of a bloody nature, and that the prophecy of Musidorus destiny come to his ears (delivered unto him, and received of him with the hardest interpretation, as though his subjects did delight in the hearing thereof.) Than gave he himself indeed to full currant of his disposition, especially after the war of Thessalia, wherein (though in truth wrongly) he deemed, his unsuccessings proceeded of their unwillingness to have him prospero: and then thinking himself contemned, (knowing no countermine against contempt, but terror) began to let nothing pass which might bear the colour of a fault, without sharp punishment: & when he wanted faults, excellency grew a fault; and it was sufficient to make one guilty, that he had power to be guilty. And as there is no honour, to which impudent poverty cannot make itself serviceable, so were there enough of those desperate ambitious, who would build their houses upon others ruins, which after should fall by like practices. So as servitude come mainly upon that poor people, whose deeds were not only punished, but words corrected, and even thoughts by some mean or other pulled out of them: while suspicion bred the mind of cruelty, and the effects of cruelty stirred a new cause of suspicion. And in this plight (full of watchful fearfulness) did the storm deliver sweet Pyrocles to the stormy mind of that Tyrant, all men that did such wrong to so rare a stranger (whose countenance deserved both pity and admiration) condemning themselves as much in their hearts, as they did brag in their forces.  
But when this bloody King knew what he was, and argument key no. 4 in what order he and his cousin Musidorus (so much of him feared) were come out of Thessalia, assuredly thinking (because ever thinking the worst) that those forces were provided against him; glad of the perishing (as he thought) of Musidorus, determined in public sort to put Pyrocles to death. For having quite lost the way of nobleness, he strove to climb to the height of terribleness; and thinking to make all men adread, to make such one an enemy, who would not spare, nor fear to kill so great a Prince; and lastly, having nothing in him why to make him his friend, thought, he would make him away, for being his enemy. The day was appointed, and all things appointed for that cruel blow, in so solemn an order, as if they would set forth tyranny in most gorgeous decking. The Princely youth of invincible valour, yet so unjustly subjecteth to such outrageous wrong, carrying himself in all his demeanour so constantly, abiding extremity, that one might see it was the cutting away of the greatest hope of the world, and destroying virtue in his sweetest growth.  
argument key no. 5 But so it fell out that his death was prevented by a rare example of friendship in Musidorus: who being almost drowned, had been taken up by a Fisherman belonging to the kingdom of Pontus; and being there, and understanding the full discourse (as Fame was very prodigal of so notable an accident) in what case Pyrocles was; learning withal, that his hate was far more to him then to Pyrocles, he found means to acquaint himself with a nobleman of that Country, to whom largely discovering what he was, he found him a most fit instrument to effectuate his desire. For this nobleman had been one, who in many wars had served Euarchus, and had been so mind-striken by the beauty of virtue in that noble King, that (though not borne his Subject) he even profeste himself his servant. His desire therefore to him was, to keep Musidorus in a strong Castle of his, and then to make the King of Phrygia understand, that if he would deliver Pyrocles, Musidorus would willingly put himself into his hands: knowing well, that how thirsty so ever he was of Pyrocles blood, he would rather drink that of Musidorus.  
The Nobleman was loathe to preserve one by the loss of another, but time urging resolution: the importunity of Musidorus (who showed a mind not to overlive Pyrocles) with the affection he bore to Euarchus, so prevailed, that he carried this strange offer of Musidorus, which by that Tyrant was greedelie accepted.  
And so upon security of both sides, they were argument key no. 6 interchanged. Where I may not omit that work of friendship in Pyrocles, who both in speech and countenance to Musidorus, well showed, that he thought himself injured, and not relieved by him: ask him, what he had everseene in him, why he could not bear the extremities of mortal accidents as well as any man? and why he should envy him the glory of suffering death for his friends cause, and (as it were) rob him of his own possession? But in this notable contention, (where the conquest must be the conquerors destruction, and safety the punishment of the conquered) Musidorus prevailed: because he was a more welcome prize to the unjust King, that wished noon well, to them worse than others, and to him worst of all: and as cheerfully going towards, as Pyrocles went frowardly fromwarde his death, he was delivered to the King, who could not be enough sure of him, without he fed his own eyes upon one, whom he had begun to fear, as soon as the other began to be.  
argument key no. 7 Yet because he would in one act, both make ostentation of his own felicity (into whose hands his most feared enemy was fallen) and withal cut of such hopes from his suspected subjects (when they should know certainly he was dead) with much more skilful cruelty, and horrible solemnity he caused each thing to be prepared for his triumph of tyranny. And so the day being come, he was led forth by many armed men (who often had been the fortifiers of wickedness) to the place of execution: where coming with a mind comforted in that he had done such service to Pyrocles, this strange encounter he had.  
argument key no. 8 The excelling Pyrocles was no sooner delivered by the king's servants to a place of liberty, than he bent his wit and courage, (and what would not they bring to pass?) how either to deliver Musidorus, or to perish with him. And (finding he could get in that country no forces sufficient by force to rescue him) to bring himself to die with him, (little hoping of better event) he put himself in poor raiment, and by the help of some few crowns he took of that nobleman, (who full of sorrow, though not knowing the secret of his intent, suffered him to go in such order from him) he (even he, born to the greatest expectation, and of the greatest blood that any Prince might be) submitted himself to be servant to the executioner that should put to death Musidorus: a far notabler proof of his friendship, considering the height of his mind, than any death could be. That bad officer not suspecting him, being arrayed fit for such an estate, & having his beauty hidden by many soul spots he artificially put upon his face, gave him leave not only to wear a sword himself, to bear his sword prepared for the justified murder. And so Pyrocles taking his time, when Musidorus was upon the scaffold (separated somewhat from the rest as allowed to say something) he stepped unto him, & putting the sword into his hand not bound (a point of civility the officers used towards him, because they doubted no such enterprise) Musidorus (said he) die nobly. In truth, never man between joy before knowledge what to be glad of, and fear after considering his cafe, had such a confusion of thoughts, as I had, when I seen Pyrocles, so near me. But with that Dorus blushed, and Pamela smiled: and Dorus the more blushed at her smiling, and she the more smiled at his blushing; because he had (with the remembrance of that plight was in) forgotten in speaking of himself to use the therd person. But Musidorus turned again her thoughts from his cheeks to his tongue in this forte: But (said he) when they were with sword in hands, not turning backs one to the other (for there they knew was place of defence) but making that a preservation in nothoping to be preserved, and now acknowledging themselves subject to death, meaning only to do honour to their princely birth, they flew amongst them all (for all were enemies) & had quickly either with flight or death, left noon upon the scaffold to annoyed them. Wherein Pyrocles (the excellent Pyrocles) did such wonders beyond belief, as was able to lead Musidorus to courage, though he had been borne a coward. But indeed, just rage & desperate virtue did such effects, that popular sort of the beholders began to be almost superstitiously amazed, as at effects beyond mortal power. But the King with angry threatenings fromout a window (where he was not ashamed, the world should behold him a beholder) commanded his guard, and the rest of his soldiers to hasten their death. But many of them lost their bodies to lose their souls, when the Princes grew almost so weary, as they were ready to be conquered with conquering.  
argument key no. 9 But as they were still fight with weak arms, and strong hearts, it happened, that one of the soldiers (commanded to go up after his fellows against the Princes) having received a light hurt, more wounded in his heart, went back with as much diligence, as he come up with modesty: which another of his fellows seeing, to pike a thank of the King, struck him upon the face, reviling him, that so accompanied, he would run away from so few. But he (as many times it falls out) only valiant, when he was angry, in revenge thrust him through: which with his death was strength revenged by a brother of his: and that again requited by a fellow of the others. There began to be a great tumult amongst the soldiers; which seen, and not understood by the people (used to fears but not used to be bold in them) some began to cry treason; and that voice strength multiplying itself, the King (OH the cowardice of a guilty conscience) before any man set upon him, fled away. Wherewith a bruit (either by art of some well meaning men, or by such chance as such things often fall out by) ran from one to the other, that the King was slain; wherewith certain young men of the bravest minds, cried with loud voice, Liberty; and encouraging the other Citizens to follow them, set upon the guard, and soldiers as chief instruments of Tyranny: and quickly, aided by the Princes, They had left noon of them alive, nor any other in the city, who they thought had in any sort set his hand to the work of their servitude, and (God knows) by the blindness of rage, kill many guiltless persons, either for affinity to the Tyrant, or enmity to the tyrantkillers. But some of the wisest (seeing that a popular licence is indeed the many-headed tyranny) prevailed with the rest to make Musidorus their chief: choosing one of them (because Princes) to defend them, and him because elder and most hated of the Tyrant, and by him to be ruled: whom forthwith they lifted up, fortune (I think) smiling at her work therein, that a scaffold of execution should grow a scaffold of coronation.  
But by and by there come news of more certain argument key no. 10 truth, that the King was not dead, but fled to a strong castle of his, near hand, where he was gathering forces in all speed possible to suppress this mutiny. But now they had run themselves too far out of breath, to go back again the same career; and too well they knew the sharpness of his memory to forget such an injury; therefore learning virtue of necessity, they continued resolute to obey Musidorus. Who sing what forces were in the city, with them issued against the Tyrant, while they were in this heat; before practices might be used to dissever them: & with them met the King, who likewise hoping little to prevail by time, (knowing and finding his people's hate) met him with little delay in the field: where himself was slain by Musidorus, after he had seen his only son (a Prince of great courage & beauty, but fostered in blood by his naughty Father) slain by the hand of Pyrocles. This victory obtained, with great, and truly not undeserved honour to the two Princes, the whole estates of the country with one consent, gave the crown and all other marks of sovereignty to Musidorus; desiring nothing more, then to live under such a government, as they promised themselves of him.  
argument key no. 11 But he thinking it a greater greatness to give a kingdom, then get a kingdom; understanding that there was left of the blood Royal, & next to the succession, an aged Gentleman of approved goodness (who had gotten nothing by his cousin's power, but danger from him, and odiousness for him) having past his time in modest secrecy, & asmuch from intermeddling in matters of government, as the greatness of his blood would suffer him, did (after having received the full power to his own hands) resign all to the nobleman: but with such conditions, & cautions of the conditions, as might assure the people (with asmuch assurance as worldly matters bear) that not only that governor, of whom indeed they looked for all good, but the nature of the government, should be no way apt to decline to Tyramny.   

CHAP. 9  
¹ The two brothers escape to the shore of Pontus. ² Inconstancy, ³ and envy purtraied in the King & his Counsellor. ⁴ The advancement & overthrow by them of those two brothers. ⁵ The revenge thereof by the two Princes. ⁶ The cruelties of two revengeful Giants, and their death by the Princes. ⁷ Their honours, and their honourable minds.  
argument key no. 1 THis doing set forth no less hismagnificence, than the other act did his magnanitie: so that greatly praised of all, and justly beloved of the new King, who in all both words and behaviour protested himself their Tenant, or Liegeman, they were drawn thence to revenge those two servants of theirs, of whose memorable faith, I told you (most excellent Princess) in willingly giving themselves to be drowned for their sakes: but drowned indeed they were not, but got with painful swimming upon a rock: from whence (after being come as near famishing, as before drowning) the weather breaking up, they were brought to the main land of Pontus; the same country upon which Musidorus also was fallen, but not in so lucky a place.  
argument key no. 2 For they were brought to the King of that country, a Tyrant also, not thorough suspicion, greediness, or unrevengefulnes, as he of Phrygia, but (as I may term it) of a wanton cruelty: in constant of his choice of friends, or rather never having a friend, but a playfellow; of whom when he was weary, he could not otherwise rid himself, them by kill them: giving sometimes prodigally, not because he loved them to whom he gave, but because he lusted to give: punishing, not so much for hate or anger, as because he felt not the smart of punishment: delighted to be flattered, at first for those virtues which were not in him, at length making his vices virtues worthy the flattering: with like judgement glorying, when he had happened to do a thing well, as when he had performed some notable mischief.  
argument key no. 3 He chanced at that time (for indeed long time noon lasted with him) to have next in use about him, a man of the most envious disposition, that (I think) ever infected the air with his breath: whose eyes could not look right upon any happy man, nor ears bear the burden of any bodies praise: contrary to the natures of all other plagues, plagued with others well being; making happiness the ground of his unhappiness, & good news the argument of his sorrow: in sum, a man whose favour no man could win, but by being miserable.  
argument key no. 4 And so, because these two faithful servants of theirs come in miserable sort to that Court, he was apt enough at first to favour them; and the King understanding of their adventure, (wherein they had showed so constant a faith unto their Lords) suddenly falls to take a pride in making much of them, extolling them with infinite praises, and praising himself in his heart, in that he praised them. And by and by were they made great courtiers, and in the way of minions, when advancement (the most mortal offence to envy) stirred up their former friend, to overthrow his own work in them; taking occasion upon the knowledge (newly come to the court) of the late King of Phrygia destroyed by their two Lords, who having been a near kinsman to this Prince of Pontus, by this envious councillor, partly with suspicion of practice, partly with glory of inpart revenging his cousin's death, the King was suddenly turned, (and every turn with him was a downfall) to lock them up in prison, as servants to his enemies, whom before he had never known, nor (till that time one of his own subjects had entertained and dealt for them) did ever take heed of. But now earnest in every present humour, and making himself brave in his liking, he was content to give them just cause of offence, when they had power to make just revenge. Yet did the Princes sand unto him before they entered into war, desiring their servants liberty. But he swelling in their humbleness, (like a bubble swollen up with a small breath, broken with a great) forgetting, or never knowing humanity, caused their heads to be stricken off, by the advice of his envious Councillor (who now hated them so much the more, as he foresaw the happiness in having such, and so fortunate masters) and sent them with unroyall reproaches to Musidorus and Pyrocles, as if they had done traitorously, and not heroically in kill his tyrannical cozen.  
But that injury went beyond all degree of reconcilement; argument key no. 5 so that they making forces in Phrygia (a kingdom wholly at their commandment, by the love of the people, and gratefulness of the King) they entered his country; and wholly conquering it (with such deeds as at least Fame said were excellent) took the King; and by Musidorus commandment (Pyrocles heart more inclined to pity) he was slain upon the tomb of their two true Servants; which they caused to be made for them with royal expenses, and notable workmanship to preserve their dead lives. For his wicked Servant he should have felt the like, or worse, but that his heart broke even to death with the beholding the honour done to the dead carcases? There might Pyrocles quietly have enjoyed that crown, by all the desire of that people, most of whom had revolted unto him: but he, finding a sister of the late Kings (a fair and well esteemed Lady) looking for nothing more, then to be oppressed with her brother's ruins, gave her in marriage to the noble man his father's old friend, and endowed them with the crown of that kingdom. And not content with those public actions, of princely, and (as it were) governing virtue, they did (in that kingdom and some other near about) divers acts of particular trials, more famous, because more perilous. For in that time those regions were full both of cruel monsters, & monstrous men: all which in short time by private combats they delivered the countries of.  
argument key no. 6 Among the rest, two brothers of huge both greatness & force, therefore commonly called giants, who kept themselves in a castle seated upon the top of a rock, impregnable, because there was no coming unto it, but by one narrow path, where one man's force was able to keep down an army. These brothers had a while served the King of Pontus, and in all his affairs (especially of war, whereunto they were only apt) they had showed, as unconquered courage, so a rude faithfulness: being men indeed by nature apt to the faults of rage, then of deceit; not greatly ambitious, more than to be well and uprightly dealt with; rather impatient of injury, then delighted with more than ordinary courtesies; and in injuries more sensible of smart or loss, then of reproach or disgrace. These men being of this nature (and certainly jewels to a wise man, considering what indeed wonders they were able to perform) yet were discarded by that unworthy Prince, after many notable deserts, as not worthy the holding. Which was the more evident to them; because it suddenly fell from an excess offavor, which (many examples having taught them) never stopped his race till it come to an headlong overthrow: they full of rage, retired themselves unto this castle. Where thinking nothing juster than revenge, nor more noble than the effects of anger, that (according to the nature) full of inward bravery and fierceness, scarcely in the glass of Reason, thinking itself fair, but when it is terrible, they immediately gave themselves to make all the country about them (subject to that King) to smart for their Lord's folly: not caring how innocent they were, but rather thinking the more innocent they were, the more it testified their spite, which they desired to manifest. And with use of evil, growing more and more evil, they took delight in slaughter, and pleasing themselves in making others wrack the effect of their power: so that where in the time that they obeyed a master, their anger was a serviceable power of the mind to do public good; so now unbridled, and blind judge of itself, it made wickedness violent, and praised itself in excellency of mischief; almost to the ruin of the country, not greatly regarded by their careless and lovelesse king. Till now these Princes finding them so fleshed in cruelty, as not to be reclaimed, secretly undertook the matter alone: for accompanied they would not have suffered them to have mounted; and so those great fellows scornfully receiving them, as foolish birds fallen into their net, it pleased the eternal justice to make them suffer death by their hands: So as they were manifoldly acknowledged the saviours of that country.  
argument key no. 7 It were the part of a very idle Orator to set forth the numbers of wel-devised honours done unto them: But as high honour is not only gotten and borne by pain, and danger, but must be nursed by the like, or else vanisheth as soon as it appears to the world: so the natural hunger thereof (which was in Pyrocles) suffered him not to accounted a resting seat of that, which ever either riseth, or falleth, but still to make one action beget another; whereby his doings might sand his praise to others mouths to rebound again true contentment to his spirit. And therefore having well established those kingdoms, under good governors, and rid them by their valour of such giants and monsters, as before time armies were not able to subdue, they determined in unknown order to see more of the world, & to employ those gifts esteemed rare in them, to the good of mankind; and therefore would themselves (understanding that the King Euarchus was passed all the cumber of his wars) go privately to seek exercises of their virtue; thinking it not so worthy, to be brought to heroical effects by fortune, or necessity (like Ulysses and Aeneas) as by ones own choice, and working. And so went they away from very unwilling people to leave them, making time haste itself to be a circumstance of their honour, and one place witness to another of the truth of their doings. For scarcely were they out of the confines of Pontus, but that as they rid alone armed, (for alone they went, one serving the other) they met an adventure; which though not so notable for any great effect they performed, yet worthy to be remembered for the un-used examples therein, as well of true natural goodness, as of wretched ungratefulness.   

CHAP. 10.  
¹ The pitiful state, and story of the Paphalgonian unkind King, and his kind son, ² first related by the son, ³ then by the blind father. ⁴ The three Princes assaulted by Plexirtus and his train: ⁵ assisted by their King of Pontus and his troops. ⁶ Plexirtus succoured and saved by two brothers, that virtuously loved a most vicious man. ⁷ Besieged by the new King, ⁸ he submitteth, & is pardoned. ⁹ The two Princes departed to aid the Queen of Lycia.  
argument key no. 1 It was in the kingdom of Galacia, the season being (as in the depth of winter) very cold, and as then suddenly grown to so extreme and soul a storm, that never any winter (I think) brought forth a fouler child: so that the Princes were even compelled by the hail, that the pride of the wind blew into their faces, to seek some shrouding place within a certain hollow rock offering it unto them, they made it their shield against the tempests fury. And so staying there, till the violence there of was passed, they heard the speech of a couple, who not perceiving them (being hid within that rude canapy) held a strange and pitiful disputation which made them step out; yet in such sort, as they might see unseen. There they perceived an aged man, and a young, scarcely come to the age of a man, both poorly arrayed, extremely weatherbeaten; the old man blind, the young man leading him: and yet through all those miseries, in both these seemed to appear a kind of nobleness, not suitable to that affliction. But the firstwords they heard, were these of the old man. Well Leonatus (said he) since I cannot persuade thee to led me to that which should end my grief, & thy trouble, let me now entreat thee to leave me: fear not, my misery cannot be greater than it is, & nothing doth become me but misery; fear not the danger of my blind steps, I cannot fall worse than I am. And do not I pray thee, do not obstinately continued to infect thee with my wretchedness. But fly, fly from this region, only worthy of me. Dear father (answered he) do not take away from me the only remnant of my happiness: while I have power to do you service, I am not wholly miserable. Ah my son (said he, and with that he groaned, as if sorrow strove to break his heart,) how evil fits it me to have such a son, and how much doth thy kindness upbraid my wickedness? These doleful speeches, and some others to like purpose (well showing they had not been borne to the fortune they were in,) moved the Princes to go out unto them, and ask the younger what they were? Sirs (answered he, with a good grace, and made the more agreeable by a certain noble kind of piteousness) I see well you are strangers, that know not our misery so well here known, that no man dare know, but that we must be miserable. In deed our state is such, as though nothing is so needful unto us as pity, yet nothing is more dangerous unto us, then to make ourselves so known as may stir pity. But your presence promiseth, that cruelty shall not overrun hate. And if it did, in truth our state is sunk below the degree of fear.  
argument key no. 2 This old man (whom I lead) was lately rightful Prince of this country of Paphlagonia, by the hard-hearted ungratefulness of a son of his, deprived, not only of his kingdom (where of no foreign forces were ever able to spoil him) but of his sight, the riches which Nature grants to the poorest creatures. Whereby, & by other his unnatural dealings, he hath been driven to such grief, as even now he would have had me to have led him to the top of this rock, thence to cast himself headlong to death: and so would have made me (who received my life of him) to be the worker of his destruction. But noble Gentlemen (said he) if either of you have a father, and feel what dutiful affection is engrafted in a sons heart, let me entreat you to convey this afflicted Prince to some place of rest & security. Among your worthy acts it shall be noon of the lest, that a King, of such might and fame, and so unjustly oppressed, is in any sort by you relieved.  
argument key no. 3 But before they could make him answer, his father began to speak, Ah my son (said he) how evil an Historian are you, that leave out the chief knot of all the discourse? my wickedness, my wickedness. And if thou dost it to spare my ears, (the only sense now left me proper for knowledge) assure thyself thou dost mistake me. And I take witness of that Sun which you see (with that he cast up his blind eyes, as if he would hunt for light,) and wish myself in worse case than I do wish myself, which is as evil as may be, if I speak untruly; that nothing is so welcome to my thoughts, as the publishing of my shame. Therefore know you Gentlemen (to whom from my heart I wish that it may not prove ominous foretoken of misfortune to have met with such a miser as I am) that whatsoever my son (o God, that truth binds me to reproach him with the name of my son) hath said, is true. But besides those truths, this also is true, that having had in lawful marriage, of a mother fit to bear royal children, this son (such one as partly you see, and better shall know by my short declaration) and so enjoyed the expectations in the world of him, till he was grown to justify their expectations (so as I needed envy no father for the chief comfort of mortality, to leave an other oneself after me) I was carried by a bastard son of my (if at lest I be bound to believe the words of that base woman my concubine, his mother) first to mislike, then to hate, lastly to destroy, to do my best to destroy, this son (I think you think) undeserving destruction. What ways he used to bring me to it, if I should tell you, I should tediously trouble you with as much poisonous hypocrisy, desperate fraud, smooth malice, hidden ambition, & smiling envy, as in any living person could be harboured. But I list it not, no remembrance, (not, of naughtiness) delights me, but my own; & me thinks, the accusing his trains might in some manner excuse my fault, which certainly I loathe to do. But the conclusion is, that I gave order to some servants of my, whom I thought as apt for such charities as myself, to lead him out into a forest, & there to kill him.  
But those thieves (better natured to my son then myself) spared his life, letting him go, to learn to live poorly: which he did, giving himself to be a private soldier, in a country here by. But as he was ready to be greatly advanced for some noble pieces of service which he did, he heard news of me: who (drunk in my affection to that unlawful and unnatural son of my) suffered myself so to be governed by him, that all favours and punishments passed by him, all offices, and places of importance, distributed to his favourites; so that ere I was ware, I had left myself nothing but the name of a King: which he shortly weary of too, with many indignities (if any thing may be called an indignity, which was laid upon me) threw me out of my feat, and put out my eyes; and then (proud in his tyranny) let me go, neither imprisoning, nor kill me: but rather delighting to make me feel my misery; misery indeed, if ever there were any; full of wretchedness, fuller of disgrace, and fullest of guiltiness. And as he come to the crown by so unjust means, as unjustly he kept it, by force of stranger soldiers in Citadels, the nests of tyranny, & murderers of liberty; disarming all his own countrymen, that no man durst show himself a well-willer of my: to say the truth (I think) few of them being so (considering my cruel folly to my good son, and foolish kindness to my unkind bastard:) but if there were any who fell to pity of so great a fall, and had yet any sparks of unstained duty left in them towards me, yet durst they not show it, scarcely with giving me alms at their doors; which yet was the only sustenance of my distressed life, no body daring to show so much charity, as to lend me a hand to guide my dark steps: Till this son of my (God knows, worthy of a more virtuous, and more fortunate father) forgetting my abominable wrongs, not recking danger, & neglecting the present good way he was in doing himself good, come hither to do this kind office you see him perform towards me, to my unspeakable grief; not only because his kindness is a glass even to my blind eyes, of my naughtiness, but that above all griefs, it grieves me he should desperately adventure the loss of his souldeseruing life for my, that yet own more to fortune for my deserts, as if he would carry mud in a chest of crystal. For well I know, he that now reigneth, how much soever (and with good reason) he despiseth me, of all men despised; yet he will not let slip any advantage to make away him, whose just title (ennobled by courage and goodness) may one day shake the seat of a never secure tyranny. And for this cause I craved of him to lead me to the top of this rock, indeed I must confess, with meaning to free him from so Serpentine a companion as I am. But he finding what I purposed, only therein since he was borne, showed himself disobedient unto me. And now Gentlemen, you have the true story, which I pray you publish to the world, that my mischievous proceedings may be the glory of his filial piety, the only reward now left for so great a merit. And if it may be, let me obtain that of you, which my son denies me: for never was there more pity in saving any, then in ending me; both because therein my agonies shall end, and so shall you preserve this excellent young man, who else wilfully follows his own ruine.  
argument key no. 4 The matter in itself lamentable, lamentably expressed by the old Prince (which needed not take to himself the gestures of pity, since his face could not put of the marks thereof) greatly moved the two Princes to compassion, which could not stay in such hearts as theirs without seeking remedy. But by and by the occasion was presented: for Plexirtus (so was the bastard called) come thither with forty horse, only of purpose to murder this brother; of whose coming he had soon advertisement, and thought no eyes of sufficient credit in such a matter, but his own; and therefore come himself to be actor, and spectator. And as soon as he come, not regarding the weak (as he thought) guard of but two men, commanded some of his followers to set their hands to his, in the kill of Leonatus. But the young Prince (though not otherwise armed but with a sword) how safely soever he was dealt with by others, would not betray himself: but bravely drawing it out, made the death of the first that assaulted him, warn his fellows to come more warily after him. But then Pyrocles and Musidorus were quickly become parties (so just a defence deserving as much as old friendship) and so did behave them among that company (more injurious, then valiant) that many of them lost their lives for their wicked master.  
argument key no. 5 Yet perhaps had the number of them at last prevailed, if the King of Pontus (lately by them made so) had not come unlooked for to their succour. Who (having had a dream which had fixed his imagination vehemently upon some great danger, presently to follow those two Princes whom he most dearly loved) was come in all haste, following as well as he could their track with a hundredth horses in that country, which he thought (considering who then reigned) a fit place enough to make the stage of any Tragedy.  
argument key no. 6 But then the match had been so ill made for Plexirtus, that his ill-led life, & worse gotten honour should have tumbled together to destruction; had there not come in Tydeus & Telenor, with forty or fifty in their svit, to the defence of Plexirtus. These two were brothers, of the noblest house of that country, brought up from their infancy with Plexirtus: men of such prowess, as not to know fear in themselves, and yet to teach it others that should deal with them: for they had often made their lives triumph over most terrible dangers; never dismayed, and ever fortunate; and truly no more settled in their valour, then disposed to goodness and justice, if either they had lighted on a better friend, or could have learned to make friendship a child, and not the father of Virtue. But bringing up (rather than choice) having first knit their minds unto him, (indeed crastie enough, either to hide his faults, or never to show them, but when they might pay home) they willingly held out the course, rather to satisfy him, than all the world; and rather to be good friends, then good men: so as though they did not like the evil he did, yet they liked him that did the evil; and though not councillors of the offence, yet protectors of the offender. Now they having heard of this sudden going out, with so small a company, in a country full of evilwishing minds toward him (though they knew not the cause) followed him; till they found him in such case as they were to venture their lives, or else he to lose his: which they did with such force of mind and body, that truly I may justly say, Pyrocles & Musidorus had never till then found any, that could make them so well repeat their hardest lesson in the feats of arms. And briefly so they did, that if they overcame not; yet were they not overcome, but carried away that ungrateful master of theirs to a place of security; howsoever the Princes laboured to the contray. But this matter being thus far begun, it become not the constancy of the Princes so to leave it; but in all haste making forces both in Pontus and Phrygia, they had in few days, lest him but only that one strong place where he was. For fear having been the only knot that had fastened his people unto him, that once untied by a greater force, they all scattered from him; like so many birds, whose cage had been broken.  
argument key no. 7 In which season the blind King (having in the chiefcittie of his Realm, set the crown upon his son Leonatus head) with many tears (both of joy and sorrow) setting forth to the whole people, his own fault & his sons virtue, after he had kissed him, and forced his son to accept honour of him (as of his newe-become subject) cven in a moment died, as it should seem: his heart broken with unkindness & affliction, stretched so far beyond his limits with this excess of comfort, as it was able no longer to keep safe his royal spirits. But the new King (having no less lovingly performed all duties to him dead, then alive) pursued on the siege of his unnatural brother, asmuch for the revenge of his father, as for the establishing of his own quiet. In which siege truly I cannot but acknowledge the prowess of those two brothers, than whom the Princes never found in all their travel two men of greater ability to perform, nor of habler skill for conduct.  
argument key no. 8 But Plexirtus finding, that if nothing else, famine would at last bring him to destruction, thought better by humbleness to creep, where by pride he could not march. For certainly so had nature form him, & the exercise of craft conformed him to all turnings of sleights, that though no man had less goodness in his soul than he, no man could better found the places whence arguemets might grow of goodness to another: though no man felt less pity, no man could tell better how to stir pity: no man more impudent to deny, where proofs were not manifest; no man more ready to confess with a repenting manner of aggravating his own evil, where denial would but make the fault fowler. Now he took this way, that having gotten a passport for one (that pretended he would put Plexirtus alive into his hands) to speak with the King his brother, he himself (though much against the minds of the valiant brothers, who rather wished to die in brave defence) with a rope about his neck, barefooted, come to offer himself to the discretion of Lconatus. Where what submission he used, how cunningly in making greater the fault he made the faultiness the less, how artificially he could set out the torments of his own conscience, with the burdensome cumber he had found of his ambitious desires, how finely seeming to desire nothing but death, as ashamed to live, he begged life, in the refusing it, I am not cunning enough to be able to express: but so fell out of it, that though at first sight Leonatus seen him with no other eye, then as the murderer of his father; & anger already began to paint revenge in many colours, ere long he had not only gotten pity, but pardon, and if not an excuse of the fault past, yet an opinion of a future amendment: while the poor villains (chief ministers of his wickedness, now betrayed by the author thereof,) were delivered to many cruel sorts of death; he so handling it, that it rather seemed, he had rather come into the defence of an unremediable mischief already committed, then that they had done it at first by his consent.  
In such sort the Pricnes left these reconciled brother's argument key no. 9 (Plexirtus in all his behaviour carrying him in far lower degree of service, than the ever-noble nature of Leonatus would suffer him) & taking likewise their leaves of their good friend the King of Pontus (who returned to enjoy their benefit, both of his wife and kingdom) they privately went thence, having only with them the two valiant brothers, who would needs accompany them, through divers places; they four doing acts more dangerous, though less famous, because they were but private chivalries: till hearing of the fair and virtuous Queen Erona of Lycia, besieged by the puissant King of Armenia, they bent themselves to her succour, both because the weaker (& weaker as being a Lady,) & partly because they heard the King of Armenia had in his company three of the most famous men living, for matters of arms, that were known to be in the world. Where of one was the Prince Plangus, (Whose name was sweetened by your breath, peerless Lady, when the last day it pleased you to mention him unto me) the other two were two great Princes (though holding of him) Barzanes and Euardes, men of Giantlike both hugeness and force: in which two especially, the trust the King had of victory, was reposed. And of them, those two brothers Tydeus and Telenor (sufficient judges in warlike matters) spoke so high commendations, that the two young Princes had even a youthful longing to have some trial of their virtue. And therefore as soon as they were entered into Lycia they joined themselves with them that faithfully served the poor Queen, at that time besieged: and ere long animated in such sort their almost overthrown hearts, that they went by force to relieve the town, though they were deprived of a great part of their strength by the parting of the two brothers, who were sent for in all haste to return to their old friend and master, Plexirtus: who (willingly hood-winking themselves from seeing his faults, and binding themselves to believe what he said) often abused the virtue of courage to defend his fowl vice of injustice. But now they were sent for to advance a conquest he was about; while Pyrocles and Musidorus pursued the delivery of the Queen Erona.   

CHAP. 11.  
¹ Dorus his svite to Pamela interrupted by Mopsa's waking. ² The sisters going with Zelmane to wash themselves. ³ The pleasantness of the river. ⁴ The pleasure Zelmane had in seeing them, uttered ⁵ in speech, ⁶ and song. ⁷ She led by a spaniel, to know, and hurt her noble rival. ⁸ The parting of that fray.  
I Have heard (said Pamela) that part of the story of Plangus when he passed through this country: therefore you may (if you list) pass over that war of Eronaes quarrel, jest if you speak too much of war matters, you should wake Mopsa, which might happily breed a great broil. argument key no. 1 He looked, and seen that Mopsa indeed fat swallowing of sleep with open mouth, making such a noise withal, as no body could lay the stealing of a nap to her charge. Whereupon, willing to use that occasion, he kneeled down, and with humble-hartednesse, & hearty earnestness printed in his graces, Alas (said he) divine Lady, who have wrought such miracles in me, as to make a Prince (noon of the basest) to think all principalities base, in respect of the sheephook, which may hold him up in your sight; vouchsafe now at last to hear in direct words my humble suit, while this dragon sleeps, that keeps the golden fruit. If in my desire I wish, or in my hopes aspire, or in my imagination feign to myself any thing which may be the least spot to that heavenly virtue, which shines in all your doings; I pray the eternal powers, that the words I speak may be deadly poisons, while they are in my mouth, and that all my hopes, all my desires, all my imaginations, may only work their own confusion. But if love, love of you, love of your virtues, seek only that favour of you, which becometh that gratefulness, which cannot misbecome your excellency, OH do not: He would have said further, but Pamela calling aloud Mopsa, she so dainly start up, staggering, and rubbing her eyes, ran first out of the door, and then back to them, before she knew how she went out, or why she come in again: till at length, being fully come to her little self, she asked Pamela, why she had called her. For nothing (said Pamela) but that you might hear some tales of your servants telling: and therefore now (said she) Dorus go on.  
But as he (who found no so good sacrifice, as obedience) argument key no. 2 was returning to the story of himself, Philoclea come in, & by and by after her, Miso; so as for that time they were feign to let Dorus departed. But Pamela) delighted even to preserve in her memory, the words of so well a beloved speaker) repeated the whole substance to her sister, till their sober dinner being come and go, to recreate themselves something, (even tired with the noisomeness of Misos conversation) they determined to go (while the heat of the day lasted) to bathe themselves (such being the manner of the Arcadian nymphs often to do) in the river of Ladon, and take with them a Lute, meaning to delight them under some shadow. But they could not stir, but that Miso with her daughter Mopsa was after them: and as it lay in their way to pass by the other lodge, Zelmane out of her window espied them, and so stolen down after them: which she might the better do because that Gynoecia was sick, and Basilius (that day being his birthday) according to his manner, was busy about his devotions; and therefore she went after, hoping to find some time to speak with Philoclea: but not a word could she begin, but that Miso would be one of the audience; so that she was driven to recommend thinking, speaking, and all, to her eyes, who diligently performed her trust, till they come to the rivers side; which of all the rivers of Greece argument key no. 3 had the price for excellent pureness and sweetness, in so much as the very bathing in it, was accounted exceeding healthful. It ran upon so fine and delicate a ground, as one could not easily judge, whither the River did more wash the gravel, or the gravel did purify the River; the River not running forth right, but almost continually winding, as if the lower streams would return to their spring, or that the River had a delight to play with itself. The banks of either side seeming arms of the loving earth, that feign would embrace it; and the River a wanton nymph which still would stir from it: either side of the bank being fringed with most beautiful trees, which resisted the suns darts from overmuch piercing the natural coldness of the River. There was the 〈…〉 Butt among the rest a goodly Cypress, who bowing her fair head over the water, it seemed she looked into it, and dressed her green locks, by that running River. There the Princesses determining to bathe themselves, though it was so privileged a place, upon pain of death, as no body durst presume to come thither, yet for the more surety, they looked round about, and could see nothing but a water spaniel, who come down the river, showing that he hunted for a duck, & with a snuffling grace, disdaining that his smelling force could not as well prevail thorough the water, as thorough the air; & therefore waiting with his eye, to see whither he could espy the ducks getting up again: but then a little below them failing of his purpose, he got out of the river, & shaking off the water (as great men do their friends, now he had no further cause to use it) in-weeded himself so, as the Ladies lost the further marking his sportfulness: and inviting Zelmane also to wash herself with them, and she excusing herself with having taken a late cold, they began by piece-meal to take away the eclipsing of their apparel.  
Zelmane would have put to her helping hand, but she argument key no. 4 was taken with such a quivering, that she thought it more wisdom to lean herself to a tree and look on, while Miso and Mopsa (like a couple of foreswat melters) were getting the pure silver of their bodies out of the ure of their garments. But as the raiments went of to receive kisses of the ground, Zelmane envied the happiness of all, but of the smock was even jealous, and when that was taken away too, and that Philoclea remained (for her Zelmane only marked) like a Diamond taken from out the rock, or rather like the Sun getting from under a cloud, and showing his naked becames to the full view, then was the beauty too much for a patiented sight, the delight too strong for a stayed conceit: so that Zelmane could not choose but run, to touch, embrace, and kiss her; But conscience made her come to herself, & leave Philoclea, who blushing, and withal smiling, making shamefastness pleasant, and pleasure shamefast, tenderly moved her feet, unwonted to feel the naked ground, till the touch of the cold water made a pretty kind of shrugging come over her body, like the twinkling of the fairest among the fixed stars. But the River itself gave way unto her, so that she was strength breast high; which was the deepest that thereabout she could be: and when cold Ladon had once fully embraced them, himself was no more so cold to those Ladies, but as if his cold complexion had been heated with love, so seemed he to play about every part he could touch.  
argument key no. 5 Ah sweet, now sweetest Ladon (said Zelmane) why dost thou not stay thy course to have more full taste of thy happiness? But the reason is manifest, the upper streams make such haste to have their part of embracing, that the neither (though loathly) must needs give place unto them. OH happy Ladon, within whom she is, upon whom her beauty falls, thorough whom her eye pierceth. OH happy Ladon, which art now an unperfect mirror of all perfection, canst thou ever forget the blessedness of this impression? if thou do, then let thy bed be turned from fine gravel, to weeds & mud; if thou do, let some unjust niggards make wears to spoil thy beauty; if thou do, let some greater river fall into thee, to take away the name of Ladon. O Ladon, happy Ladon, rather slide then run by her, jest thou shouldest make her legs slip from her; and then, OH happy Ladon, who would then call thee, but the most cursed Ladon? But as the Ladies played them in the water, sometimes striking it with their hands, the water (making lines in his face) seemed to smile at such beating, and with twenty bubbles, not to be content to have the picture of their face in large upon him, but he would in each of those bubbles set forth the miniature of them.  
But Zelmane, whose sight was gainsaid by nothing argument key no. 6 but the transparent vail of Ladon, (like a chamber where a great fire is kept, though the fire be at one stay, yet with the continuance continually hath his heat increased) had the coals of her affection so kindled with wonder, and blown with delight, that now all her parts grudged, that her eyes should do more homage, than they, to the Princess of them. In somuch that taking up the Late, her wit began to be with a divine fury inspired; her voice would in so beloved an occasion second her wit; her hands accorded the Lutes music to the voice; her panting heart danced to the music; while I think her feet did beaten the time; while her body was the room where it should be celebrated; her soul the Queen which should be delighted. And so together went the utterance and the invention, that one might judge, it was Philoclea's beauty which did speedily writ it in her eyes; or the sense there of, which did word by word indite it in her mind, whereto she (but as an organ) did only lend utterance. The song was to this purpose.  

What tongue can her perfections tell  
In whose each part all pens may devil?  
Her hair fine threads of finest gold  
In curled knots men thought to hold:  
But that her forehead says in me  
A whiter beauty you may see.  
Whiter indeed; more white than snow,  
Which on cold winter's face doth grow.  
That doth present those even brows,  
Whose equal line their angles bows,  
Like to the Moon when after change  
Her horned head abroad doth range:  
And arches be to heavenly lids,  
Whose wink each bold attempt forbids.  
For the black stars those Spheres contain,  
The matchless pair, even praise doth stain.  
No lamp, whose light by Art is got,  
No Sun, which shines, and seethe not,  
Can liken them without all pcere,  
Save one as much as other clear:  
Which only thus unhappy be,  
Because themselves they cannot see.   

Her cheeks with kindly claret spread.  
Aurora like new out of bed,  
Or like the fresh Queene-apples side,  
Blushing at sight of Phoebus pride.  
Her nose, her chin pure inorie wears:  
Not purer than the pretty ears.  
So that therein appears some blood,  
Like wine and milk that mingled stood.  
In whose Incirclets if ye gaze,  
Your eyes may tread a lovers maze.  
But with such turns the voice to stray,  
Not talk untaught can find the way.  
The tip no jewel needs to wear:  
The tip is jewel of the ear.   

But who those ruddy lips can miss?  
Which blessed still themselves do kiss.  
Rubies, Cherries, and Roses new,  
In worth, in taste, in perfect hew:  
Which never part but that they show  
Of precious pearl the double row,  
The second sweetly-fenced ward,  
Her heau'nly-dewed tongue to guard.  
Whence never word in vain did flow.   

Fair under these doth stately grow,  
The handle of this precious work,  
The neck, in which strange graces lurk.  
Such be I think the sumptuous towers  
Which skill doth make in Princes bowers.  
So good a say invites the eye,  
A little downward to espy,  
The lively clusters of her breasts,  
Of Venus' babe the wanton nests:  
Like pomels round of Marble clear:  
Where azured veins well mixed appear.  
With dearest tops of porphyry.   

Betwixt these two a way doth lie,  
A way more worthy beauty's fame,  
Than that which bears the Milky name.  
This leads into the joyous field,  
Which only still doth Lilies yield:  
But Lilies such whose native smell  
The Indian odours doth excel.  
Waste it is called, for it doth waste  
Man's lives, until it be embraced.   

There may one see, and yet not see  
Her ribs in white all armed be.  
Moore white than Neptune's foamy face,  
When struggling rocks he would embrace.   

In those delights the wandering thought  
Might of each side astray be brought,  
But that her navel doth unite,  
In curious circle, busy sight:  
A dainty seal of virgin-waxe,  
Where nothing but impression lacks.   

Her belly then glad sight doth fill,  
justly entitled Cupid's hill.  
A hill most fit for such a master,  
A spotless mine of Alabaster.  
Like Alabaster fair and sleek,  
But soft and suppling fatten like.  
In that sweet feat the Boy doth sport:  
Loathe, I must leave his chief resort.  
For such a use the world hath gotten,  
The best things still must be forgotten.   

Yet never shall my song omit  
Thighs, for Ovid's song more fit;  
Which stanked with two sugared flanks,  
Lift up their stately swelling banks;  
That Albion clives in whiteness pass:  
With haunches smooth as looking glass.   

But how all knees, now of her knees  
My tongue doth tell what fancy fees.  
The knots of joy, the gems of love,  
Whose motion makes all graces move.  
Whose bought incaued doth yield such sight,  
Like cunning Painter shadowing white.  
The gartering place with childlike sign,  
Shows easy print in metal fine.  
But then again the flesh doth rise  
In her brave calves, like crystal skies.  
Whose Atlas is a smallest small,  
Moore white than whitest bone of all.   

Thereout steals out that round clean foot  
This noble Cedars precious root:  
In show and sent pale violets,  
Whose step on earth all beauty sets.   

But back unto her back, my Muse,  
Where Leda's swan his feathers mews,  
Along whose ridge such bones are met,  
Like comfits round in marchpane set.   

Her shoulders be like two white Doves,  
Perching within square royal rooves,  
Which leaded are with silver skin,  
Passing the hate-sport Ermelin.  
And thence those arms derived are;  
The Phoenix wings are not so rare  
For faultless length, and stainelesse hew,   

Ah woe is me, my woes renew;  
Now course doth lead me to her hand,  
Of my first love the fatal band.  
Where whiteness doth for ever sit:  
Nature herself enameled it.  
For there with strange compact doth lie  
Warm snow, moist pearl, soft ivory.  
There fall those Saphir-coloured brooks,  
Which conduit-like with curious crooks,  
Sweet islands make in that sweet land.  
As for the singers of the hand,  
The bloody shafts of Cupid's war,  
With amatists they headed are.   

Thus hath each part his beauty's part,  
But how the Graces do impart  
To all her limbs a spctiall grace,  
Becoming every time and place.  
Which doth even beauty beautify,  
And most bewitch the wretched eye.  
How all this is but a fair Inn  
Of fairer guests, which devil within.  
Of whose high praise, and praiseful bliss,  
Goodness the pen, heaven paper is.  
The ink immortal same doth lend:  
As I began, so must I end.  
No tongue can her perfections tell,  
In whose each part all tongues may devil   
But as Zelmane was coming to the latter end of her song, she might see the same water-spaniel which before had hunted, come and fetch away one of Philoclea's gloves; whose fine proportion, showed well what a dainty guest was wont there to be lodged. It was a delight to Zelmane, to see that the dog was therewith delighted, and so let him go a little way withal, who quickly carried it out of sight among certain trees and bushes, which were very close together. But by & by he come again, & amongst the raiments (Miso and Mopsa being preparing sheets against their coming out) the dog lighted upon a little book of four or five leaves of paper, & was bearing that away to. But then Zelmane (not knowing what importance it might be of) ran after the dog, who going strength to those bushes, she might see the dog deliver it to a Gentleman who secretly lay there. But she hastily coming in, the Gentleman rose up, & with a courteous (though sad) countenance presented himself unto her. Zelmane's eyes strength willed her mind to mark him: for she thought, in her life she had never seen a man of a more goodly presence, in whom strong making took not away delicacy, nor beauty fierceness: being indeed such a right man like man, as Nature often erring, yet shows she would feign make. But when she had a while (not without admiration) viewed him, she desired him to deliver back the glove & paper, because they were the Lady Philoclea's; telling him withal, that she would not willingly let them know of his close lying in that prohibited place, while they were bathing themselves; because she knew they would be mortally offended withal. Fair Lady (answered he) the worst of the complaint is already passed, since I feel of my fault in myself the punishment. But for these things I assure you, it was my dogs wanton boldness, not my presumption. With that he gave her back the paper: But for the glove (said he) since it is my Lady Philoclea's, give me leave to keep it, since my heart cannot persuade itself to part from it. And I pray you tell the Lady (Lady indeed of all my desires) that owes it, that I will direct my life to honour this glove with serving her. OH villain (cried out Zelmane, madded with finding an unlooked-for Rival, and that he would make her a messenger) dispatch (said she) and deliver it, or by the life of her that owes it, I will make thy soul (though too base a price) pay for it. And with that drew out her sword, which (Amazon-like) she ever aware about her. The Gentleman retired himself into an open place from among the bushes; & then drawing out his too, he offered to deliver it unto her, saying withal, God forbidden I should use my sword against you, since (if I be not deceived) you are the same famous Amazon, that both defended my Lady's just title of beauty against the valiant Phalantus, & saved her life in kill the Lion; therefore I am rather to kiss your hands, with acknowledging myself bound to obey you. But this courtesy was worse than a bastonado to Zelmane: so that again with rageful eyes she bade him defend himself, for no less than his life should answer it. A hard case (said he) to teach my sword that lesson, which hath ever used to turn itself to a shield in a Lady's presence. But Zelmane hearkening to no more words, began with such witty fury to pursue him with blows & thrusts, that Nature & Virtue commanded the Gentleman to look to his safety. Yet still courtesy, that seemed incorporate in his heart, would not be persuaded by danger to offer any offence, but only to stand upon the best defensive guard he could; sometimes going back, being content in that respect to take on the figure of cowardice; sometime with strong and well-met wards; sometime cunning avoidings of his body; and sometimes feigning some blows, which himself pulled back before they needed to be with stood. And so with play did he a good while fight against the fight of Zelmane, who (more spited with that courtesy, that one that did nothing should be able to resist her) burned away with choler any motions, which might grow out of her own sweet disposition, determining to kill him if he fought no better; & so redoubling her blows, drove the stranger to no other shift, then to ward, and go back; at that time seeming the image of innocency against violence. But at length he found, that both in public and private respects, who stands only upon defence, stands upon no defence: For Zelmane seeming to strike at his head, and he going to ward it, withal stepped back as he was accustomed, she stopped her blow in the air, and suddenly turning the point, ran full at his breast; so as he was driven with the pommel of his sword (having no other weapon of defence) to beaten it down: but the thrust was so strong, that he could not so wholly beaten it away, but that it met with his thigh, thorough which it ran. But Zelmane retiring her sword, and seeing his blood, victorious anger was conquered by the before-conquered pity; and heartily sorry, and even ashamed with herself she was, considering how little he had done, who well she found could have done more. In so much that she said, truly I am forie for your hurt, but yourself gave the cause, both in refusing to deliver the glove, and yet not fight as I know you could have done. But (said she) because I perceive you disdain to fight with a woman, it may be before a year come about, you shall meet with a near kinsman of my, Pyrocles Prince of Macedon, and I give you my word, he for me shall maintain this quarrel against you. I would (answered Amphialus) I had many more such hurts to meet and know that worthy Prince, whose virtue I love & admire, though my good destiny hath not been to see his person.  
argument key no. 8 But as they were so speaking, the young Ladies come, to whom Mopsa (curious in any thing, but her own good behaviour) having followed & seen Zelmane fight, had cried, what she had seen, while they were drying themselves, & the water (with some drops) seemed to weep, that it should part from such bodies. But they careful of Zelmane (assuring themselves that any Arcadian would bear reverence to them) Pamela with a noble mind, and Philoclea with a loving (hastily hiding the beauties, where of Nature was proud, and they ashamed) they made quick work to come to save Zelmane. But already they found them in talk, & Zelmane careful of his wound. But when they seen him they knew it was their cousin germane, the famous Amphialus; whom yet with a sweete-graced bitterness they blamed for breaking their father's commandment, especially while themselves were in such sort retired. But he craved pardon, protesting unto them that he had only been to seek solitary places, by an extreme melancholy that had a good while possessed him, and guided to that place by his spaniel, where while the dog hunted in the river, he had with drawn himself to pacify with sleep his over-watched eyes: till a dream waked him, and made him see that where of he had dreamt, & withal not obscurely signified that he felt the smart of his own doings. But Philoclea (that was even jealous of herself for Zelmane) would needs have her glove, and not without so mighty a louvre as that face could yield. As for Zelmane when she knew, it was Amphialus, Lord Amphialus (said she) I have long desired to know you, heretofore I must confess with more good will, but still with honouring your virtue, though I love not your person: & at this time I pray you let us take care of your wound, upon condition you shall hereafter promise', that a more knightly combat shallbe performed betweeneus. Amphialus answered in honourable, sort, but with such excusing himself, that more and more accused his love to Philoclea, & provoked more hate in Zelmane. But Mopsa had already called certain shepherds not far of (who knew & well observed their limits) to come and help to carry away Amphialus, whose wound suffered him not without danger to strain it: and so he leaving himself with them, departed from them, faster bleeding in his heart, then at his wound: which bound up by the sheets, wherewith Philoclea had been wrapped, made him thank the wound, and bless the sword for that favour. argument key no. 7   

CHAP. 12.  
¹ How Basilius found Plangus: ² his lamentation. ³ Philoclea entreated by Zelmane to relate the story of Erona.  
He being go, the Ladies (with merry anger argument key no. 1 talking, in what naked simplicity their cousin had seen them) returned to the lodge-warde: yet thinking it too early (as long as they had any day) to break of so pleasing a company, with going to perform a cumbersome obediennce, Zelmane invited them to the little arbour, only reserved for her, which they willingly did: and there sitting, Pamela having a while made the lute in his language, show how glad it was to be touched by her fingers, Zelmane delivered up the paper, which Amphialus had at first yielded unto her: and seeing written upon the backside of it, the complaint of Plangus, remembering what Dorus had told her, and desiring to know how much Philoclea knew of her estate, she took occasion in the presenting of it, to ask whither it were any secret, or no. Not truly (answered Philoclea) it is but even an exercise of my father's writing, upon this occasion: He was one day (somwhile before your coming hither) walking abroad, having us two with him, almost a mile hence; and crossing a high way, which comes from the city of Megalopolis, he seen this Gentleman, whose name is there written, one of the properest and best-graced men that ever I saw, being of middle age, and of a mean stature. He lay as then under a tree, while his servants were getting fresh post-horses for him. It might seem he was tired with the extreme travail he had taken, and yet not so tired, that he forced to take any rest; so hasty he was upon his journey: and withal so sorrowful, that the very face thereof was painted in his face; which with pitiful motions, even groans, tears, and passionate talking to himself, moved my Father to fall in talk with him: who at first not knowing him, answered him in such a desperate phrase of grief, that my Father afterward took a delight to set it down in such form as you see: which if you read, what you doubt of, my sister and I are able to declare unto you. Zelmane willingly opened the leaves, and read it, being written Dialogue-wise in this manner.  Plangus. Basilius. Plangus. 

ALas how long this pilgrimage doth last?  
What greater ills have now the heavens in store,  
To couple coming harms with sorrows past?  
Long since my voice is hoarse, and throat is sore,  
With cries to skies, and curses to the ground,  
But more I plain, I feel my woes the more.  
Ah where was first that cruel cunning found,  
To frame of Earth a vessel of the mind,  
Where it should be to self-destruction bound?  
What needed so high spirits such mansions blind?  
Or wrapped in flesh what do they here obtain,  
But glorious name of wretched humaine-kind?  
Balls to the stars, and thralls to Fortune's reign;  
Turned from themselves, infected with their cage,  
Where death is feared, and life is held with pain.  
Like players placed to fill a filthy stage,  
Where change of thoughts one fool to other shows,  
And all but jests, save only sorrows rage.  
The child feels that; the man that feeling knows,  
With cries first borne, the presage of his life,  
Where wit but serves, to have true taste of woes.  
A Shop of shame, a Book where blots be rise  
This body is: this body so composed,  
As in itself to nourish mortal strife.  
So divers be the Elements disposed  
In this weak work, that it can never be  
Made uniform to any state reposed.  
Grief only makes his wretched state to see  
(Even like a top which naught but whipping moves)  
This man, this talking beast, this walking tree.  
Grief is the stone which finest judgement proves:  
For who grieves not hath but a blockish brain,  
Since 'cause of grief no cause from life removes.   Basilius. 

How long wilt thou with moanful music stain  
The cheerful notes these pleasant places yield,  
Where all good haps a perfect state maintain?   Plangus. 

Cursed be good haps, and cursed be they that build  
Their hopes on haps, and do not make despair  
For all these certain blows the surest shield.  
Shall I that seen Eronaes shining hair  
Torn with her hands, and those same hands of snow  
With loss of purest blood themselves to tear?  
Shall I that seen those breasts, where beauties flow,  
Swelling with sighs, made pale with minds disease,  
And seen those eyes (those Sons) such showers to show,  
Shall I, whose ears her mournful words did seize,  
Her words in syrup laid of sweetest breath,  
Relent those thoughts, which then did so displease?  
Not, not: Despair my daily lesson saith,  
And saith, although I seek my life to fly,  
Plangus must live to see Eronaes death.  
Plangus must live some help for her to try  
Though in despair, so Love enforceth me;  
Plangus doth live, and must Erona die?  
Erona die? OH heaven (if heaven there be)  
Hath all thy whirling course so small effect?  
Serve all thy starry eyes this shame to see?  
Let dolts in haste some altars fair erect  
To those high powers, which idly sit above,  
And virtue do in greatest need neglect.   Basilius. 

OH man, take heed, how thou the Gods do move  
To ireful wrath, which thou canst not resist.  
Blasphemous words the speaker vain do prove.  
Alas while we are wrapped in foggy mist  
Of our self-love (so passions do deceive)  
We think they hurt, when most they do assist.  
To harm us worms should that high justice leave  
His nature? nay, himself? for so it is.  
What glory from our loss can he receive?  
But still our dazzled eyes their way do miss,  
While that we do at his sweet scourge repined,  
The kindly way to beaten us to our bliss.  
If she must die, then hath she past the line  
Of loathe some days, whose loss how canst thou moon,  
That dost so well their miseries define?  
But such we are with inward tempest blown  
Of minds quite contrary in waves of will:  
We moon that lost, which had we did bemoan.   Plangus. 

And shall she die? shall cruel fire spill  
Those beams that set so many hearts on fire?  
Hath she not force even death with love to kill?  
Nay even cold Death inflamed with hot desire  
Her to enjoy, where joy itself is thrall,  
Will spoil the earth of his most rich attire.  
Thus Death becomes a rival to us all,  
And hopes with soul embracements her to get,  
In whose decay Virtues fair shrine must fall.  
OH virtue weak, shall death his triumph set  
Upon thy spoils, which never should lie waste?  
Let Death first die; be thou his worthy let.  
By what eclipse shall that Son be defaced?  
What mine hath erst thrown down so fair a tower?  
What sacrilege hath such a saint disgraced?  
The world the garden is, she is the flower  
That sweetens all the place; she is the guest  
Of rarest price, both heaven and earth her bower.  
And shall (O me) all this in ashes rest?  
Alas, if you a Phoenix new will have  
Burned by the Sun, she first must build her nest.  
But well you know, the gentle Sun would save  
Such beams so like his own, which might have might  
In him, the thoughts of Phaëtons dam to grave.  
Therefore, alas, you use vile Vulcan's spite,  
Which nothing spares, to melt that Virgin-waxe  
Which while it is, it is all Asia's light.  
OH Mars, for what doth serve thy armed axe?  
To let that wit-old beast consume in flames  
Thy Venus child, whose beauty Venus lacks?  
OH Venus (if her praise no envy frames,  
In thy high mind) get her thy husband's grace.  
Sweet speaking often a currish heart reclaims.  
OH eyes of my, where once she seen her face,  
Her face which was more lively in my heart;  
OH brain, where thought of her hath only place;  
OH hand, which touched her hand when she did part;  
OH lips, that kissed her hand with my tears sprent;  
OH tongue, then dumb, not daring tell my smart;  
OH soul, whose love in her is only spent,  
What ere you see, think, touch, kiss, speak, or love,  
Let all for her, and unto her be bend.   Basilius. 

Thy wailing words do much my spirits move,  
They uttered are in such a feeling fashion,  
That sorrows work against my will I prove.  
Methinks I am partaker of thy passion,  
And in thy case do glass my own debility:  
Selfe-guiltie folk most prove to feel compassion.  
Yet Reason saith, Reason should have ability,  
To hold these worldly things in such proportion,  
As let them come or go with even facility.  
But our Desires tyrannical extortion  
Doth force us there to set our chief delightfulness.  
Where but a baiting place is all our portion.  
But still, although we fail of perfect rightfulness,  
Seek we to tame the childish superfluities:  
Let us not wink though voided of purest sightfulnes.  
For what can breed more peevish incongruities,  
Than man to yield to female lamentations?  
Let us some grammar learn of more congruities.   Plangus. 

If through my ears pierce any consolation  
By wise discourse, sweet tunes, or Poet's fiction;  
If aught I cease these hideous exclamations,  
While that my soul, she, she lives in affliction;  
Than let my life long time on earth maintained be,  
To wretched me, the last worst malediction.  
Can I, that know her sacred parts restrained be,  
For any joy, know fortunes vile displacing her,  
In moral rules let raging woes contained be?  
Can I forget, when they in prison placing her,  
With swelling heart in spite and due disdainfulness  
She lay for dead, till I helped with unlasing her?  
Can I forget, from how much mourning plainfulnes  
With Diamond in window-glasse she graved,  
Erona die, and end thy ugly painfulness?  
Can I forget in how strange phrase she craved  
That quickly they would her burn, drown, or smother,  
As if by death she only might be saved?  
Than let me eke forget one hand from other:  
Let me forget that Plangus I am called:  
Let me forget I am son to my mother,  
But if my memory must thus be thralled  
To that strange stroke which conquered all my senses,  
Can thoughts still thinking so rest unappalled?   Basilius. 

Who still doth seek against himself offences,  
What pardon can avail? or who employs him  
To hurt himself, what shields can be defences?  
Woe to poor man: each outward thing annoys him  
In divers kinds; yet as he were not filled,  
He heaps in inward grief, which most destroys him.  
Thus is our thought with pain for thistles tilled:  
Thus be our noblest parts dried up with sorrow:  
Thus is our mind with too much minding spilt.  
One day lays up stuff of grief for the morrow:  
And whose good haps do leave him unprovided,  
Condoling cause of friendship he will borrow.  
Betwixt the good and shade of good divided,  
We pity deem that which but weakness is:  
So are we from our high creation slided.  
But Plangus jest I may your sickness miss  
Or rubbing hurt the sore, I here do end.  
The ass did hurt when he did think to kiss.   
When Zelmane had read it over, marvelling very argument key no. 3 much of the speech of Eronas death, and therefore desirous to know further of it, but more desirous to hear Philoclea speak, Most excellent Lady (said she) one may be little the wiser for reading the Dialogue, since it neither sets forth what this Plangus is, nor what Erona is, nor what the cause should be which threatens her with death, and him with sorrow: therefore I would humbly crave to understand the particular discourse thereof: because (I must confess) some thing in my travail I have heard of this strange matter, which I would be glad to found by so sweet an authority confirmed. The truth is (answered Philoclea) that after he knew my father to be Prince of this country; while he hoped to prevail something with him in a great request he made unto him, he was content to open fully unto him the estate both of himself, and of that Lady; which with my sister's help (said she) who remembers it better than I, I will declare unto you: and first of Erona, (being the chief Subject of this discourse) this story (with more tears and exclamations than I list to spend about it) he recounted.   

CHAP. 13.  
Erona ¹ irreligious 'gainst Love, ² must love the base Antiphilus, ³ is loved, pursued, and beleaguered by the great Tiridates. ⁴ The two Greek Princes aid her. ⁵ They combatte with two kings; Antiphilus with Plangus; they conquerors, he prisoner. ⁶ Eronas hard-choice to redeem him. ⁷ Tiridates slain, Antiphilus delivered, Artaxia chased by the two Princes, ⁸ and her hate to them.  
argument key no. 1 OF late there reigned a King in Lycia, who had for the blessing of his marriage, this only daughter of his, Erona; a Princess worthy for her beauty, as much praise, as beauty may be praiseworthy. This Princess Erona, being 19 years of age, seeing the country of Lycia so much devoted to Cupid, as that in every place his naked pictures & images were superstitiously adored (either moved thereunto, by the esteeming that could be no Godhead, which could breed wickedness, or the shamefast consideration of such nakedness) procured so much of her father, as utterly to pull down, and deface all those statues and pictures. Which how terribly he punished (for to that the Lycians impute it) quickly after appeared.  
argument key no. 2 For she had not lived a year longer, when she was stricken with most obstinate Love, to a young man but of mean parentage, in her father's court, named Antiphilus: so mean, as that he was but the son of her Nurse, & by that means (without other desert) become known of her. Now so evil could she conceal her fire, and so wilfully persevered she in it, that her father offering her the marriage of the great Tiridates, king of Armenia (who desired her more than the joys of heaven) she for Antiphilus-sake refused it. Many ways her father sought to withdraw her from it; sometimes persuasions, sometimes threatenings; once hiding Antiphilus, & giving her to understand that he was fled the country: Lastly, making a solemn execution to be done of another, under the name of Antiphilus, whom he kept in prison. But neither she liked persuasions, nor feared threatenings, nor changed for absence: and when she thought him dead, she sought all means (as well by poison as by knife) to sand her soul, at lest, to be married in the eternal church with him. This so broke the tender father's heart, that (leaving things as he found them) he shortly after died. Than forth with Erona (being seized of the crown, and arming her will with authority) sought to advance her affection to the holy title of matrimony.  
But before she could accomplish all the solemnities, she argument key no. 3 was overtaken with a war the King Tiridates made upon her, only for her person; towards whom (for her ruin) Love had kindled his cruel heart; indeed cruel & tyrannous: for (being far too strong in the field) he spared not man, woman, and child, but (as though there could be found no foil to set forth the extremity of his love, but extremity of hatred) wrote (as it were) the sonnets of his Love, in the blood, & tuned them in them cries of her subjects; although his fair sister Artaxia (who would accompany him in the army) sought all means to appease his fury: till lastly, he besieged Erona in her best city, vowing to win her, or loose his life. And now had he brought her to the point either of a woeful consent, or a ruinous denial; when there come thither (following the course which Virtue & Fortune led them) two excellent young Princes, Pyrocles and Musidorus, the one Prince of Macedon, the other of Thessalia: two princes, as Planguns said, (and he witnessed his saying with sighs & tears) the most accnoplished both in body & mind, that the Sun ever looked upon. While Philoclea spoke those words, OH sweet words (thought Zelmane to herself) which are not only a praise to me, but a praise to praise itself, which out of that mouth issueth.  
These 2. princes (said Philoclea) aswell to help the weaker argument key no. 4 (especially being a Lady) as to save a Greek people from being ruined by such, whom we call and count Barbarous, gathering together such of the honestest Lycians, as would venture their lives to secure their Princess: giving order by a secret message they sent into the City, that they should issue with all force at an appointed time; they set upon Tiridates camp, with so well-guided a fierceness, that being of both sides assaulted, he was like to be overthrown: but that this Plangus (being General of Tiridates horsemen) especially aided by the two mighty men, Euardes and Barzanes, rescued the footmen, even almost defeated: but yet could not bar the Princes (with their succours both of men and victual) to enter the City.  
argument key no. 5 Which when Tiridates found would make the war long, (which length seemed to him worse than a languishing consumption) he made a challenge of three Princes in his retinue, against those two Princes and Antiphilus: and that thereupon the quarrel should be decided; with compact, that neither side should help his fellow: but of whose side the more overcame, with him the victory should remain. Antiphilus (though Erona chose rather to bide the brunt of war, then venture him, yet) could not for shame refuse the offer, especially since the two strangers that had no interest in it, did willingly accept it: besides that, he saw it like enough, that the people (weary of the miseries of war) would rather give him up, if they seen him shrink, then for his sake venture their ruin: considering that the challengers were far of greater worthiness than himself. So it was agreed upon; and against Pyrocles was Euardes, King of Bithynia; Barzanes of Hyrcania, against Musidorus, two men, that thought the world scarce able to resist them: & against Antiphilus he placed this same Plangus, being his own cousin germane, & son to the King of Iberia. Now so it fell out that Musidorus slew Barzanes, & Pyrocles Euardes; which victory those Princes esteemed above all that ever they had: but of the other side Plangus took Antiphilus prisoner: under which colour (as if the matter had been equal, though indeed it was not, the greater part being overcome of his side) Tiridates continued his war: & to bring Erona to a compelled yielding, sent her word, that he would the third morrow after, before the walls of the town strike of Antiphilus head; without his svite in that space were granted: adding withal (because he had heard of her desperate affection) that if in the mean time she did herself any hurt, what tortures could be devised should belayed upon Antiphilus.  
Than lo if Cupid be a God, or that the tyranny of our argument key no. 6 own thoughts seem as a God unto us. But whatsoever it was, than it did set forth the miserableness of his effects: she being drawn to two contraries by one cause. For the love of him commanded her to yield to no other: the love of him commanded him to preserve his life: which knot might well be cut, but untied it could not be. So that Love in her passions (like a right makebate) whispered to both sides arguments of quarrel. What (said he of the one side) dost thou love Antiphilus, O Erona? and shall Tiridates enjoy thy body; with what eyes wilt thou look upon Antiphilus, when he shall know that another possesseth thee? But if thou wilt do it, canst thou do it? canst thou force thy heart? Think with thyself, if this man have thee, thou shalt neuner have more part of Antiphilus than if he were dead. But thus much more, that the affection shalbe gnawing, & the remorse still present. Death perhaps will cool the rage of thy affection: where thus, thou shalt ever love, and ever lack. Think this beside, if thou marry Tiridates, Antiphilus is so excellent a man, that long he cannot be from being in some high place married: canst thou suffer that too? If an other kill him, he doth him the wrong: if thou abuse thy body, thou dost him the wrong. His death is a work of nature, and either now, or at another time he shall die. But it shalbe thy work, thy shameful work, which is in thy power to shun, to make him live to see thy faith falsified, and his bed defiled. But when Love had well kindled that part of her thoughts, then went he to the other side. What (said he) OH Erona, and is thy Love of Antiphilus come to that point, as thou dost now make it a question, whither he shall die, or no? OH excellent affection, which for too much love, will see his head of. Mark well the reasons of the other side, and thou shalt see, it is but love of thyself which so disputeth. Thou canst not abide Tiridates: this is but love of thyself: thou shalt be ashamed to look upon him afterward; this is but fear of shame, & love of thyself: thou shalt want him as much then; this is but love of thyself: he shallbe married; if he be well, why should that grieve thee, but for love of thyself? Not, not, pronounce these words if thou canst, let Antiphilus die. Than the images of each side stood before her understanding; one time she thought she seen Antiphilus dying: an other time she thought Antiphilus saw her by Tiridates enjoyed: twenty times calling for a servant to carry message of yielding, but before he come the mind was altered. She blushed when she considered the effect of granting; she was pale, when she remembered the fruits of denial. As for weeping, sighing, wring her hands, & tearing her hair, were indifferent of both sides. Easily she would have agreed to have broken all disputations with her own death, but that the fear of Antiphilus further torments stayed her. At length, even the evening before the day appointed of his death, the determination of yielding prevailed, especially, growing upon a message of Antiphilus; who with all the conjuring terms he could devise, besought her to save his life, upon any condition. But she had no sooner sent her messenger to Tiridates, but her mind changed, and she went to the two young Princes, Pyrocles & Musidorus, & falling down at their feet, desired them to trien some way for her deliverance; showing herself resolved, not to overlive Antiphilus, nor yet to yield to Tiridates.  
They that knew not what she had done in private, argument key no. 7 prepared that night accordingly: & as sometimes it falls out, that what is inconstancy, seems cunning; so did this change indeed stand in as good steed as a witty diffimulation. For it made the King as reckless, as them diligent: so that in the dead time of the night, the Princes issued out of the town; with whom she would needs go, either to die herself, or rescue Antiphilus, having no armour, nor weapon, but affection. And I cannot tell you how, by what devise (though Plangus at large described it) the conclusion was, the wonderful valour of the two Princes so prevailed, that Antiphilus was succoured, and the King slain. Plangus was then the chief man left in the camp; and therefore seeing no other remedy, conveyed in safety into her country Artaxia, now Queen of Armenia; who with truelamentations, made, argument key no. 8 known to the world, that her new greatness did no way comfort her in respect of her brother's loss, whom she studied all means possible to revenge upon every one of the occasioners, having (as she thought) overthrown her brother by a most abominable treason. In somuch, that being at home, she proclaimed great rewards to any private man, and herself in marriage to any Prince, that would destroy Pyrocles and Musidorus. But thus was Antiphilus redeemed, and (though against the consent of all her nobility) married to Erona; in which case the two Greek Princes (being called away by an other adventure) left them.   

CHAP. 14.  
¹ Philoclea's narration broken of by Miso. ² Her old-wives tale, ³ and ballad against Cupid. ⁴ Their drawing cuts for tales. ⁵ Mopsa's tale of the old cut: ⁶ cut of by the Ladies to return to their stories.  
argument key no. 1 But now me thinks as I have read some Poets, who when they intent to tell some horrible matter, they bid men shun the hearing of it: so if I do not desire you to stop your ears from me, yet may I well desire a breathing time, before I am to tell the execrable treason of Antiphilus, that brought her to this misery; and withal wish you all, that from all mankind indeed you stop your ears. OH most happy were we, if we did set our loves one upon another. (And as she spoke that word, her cheeks in read letters written more, than her tongue did speak.) And therefore since I have named Plangus, I pray you sister (said she) help me with the rest, for I have held the stage long enough; and if it please you to make his fortune known, as I have done Eronas, I will after take heart again to go on with his falsehood; & so between us both, my Lady Zelmane shall understand both the cause and parties of this Lamentation. Nay I beshrew me then (said Miso) I will noon of that, I promise' you, as long as I have the government, I will first have my tale, & then my Lady Pamela, my Lady Zelmane, & my daughter Mopsa (for Mopsa was then returned from Amphialus) may draw cuts, & the shortest cut speak first. For I tell you, and this may be suffered, when you are married you will have first, and last word of your husbands. The Ladies laughed to see with what an eager earnestness she looked, having threatening not only in her Ferret eyes, but while she spoke, her nose seeming to threaten her chin, & her shaking limbs one to threaten another. But there was no remedy, they must obey: & Miso (sitting on the ground with her knees up, & her hands upon her knees) tuning her voice with many a quavering cough, thus discoursed unto them. I tell you true (said she) whatsoever argument key no. 2 you think of me, you will one day be as I am; & I, simple though I sit here, thought once my penny as good silver, as some of you do: and if my father had not played the hasty fool (it is no lie I tell you) I might have had an other-gaines husband, them Dam. But let that pass, God amend him: and yet I speak it not without good cause. You are full of your tittle tattling of Cupid: here is argument key no. 3 Cupid, & there is Cupid. I will tell you now, what a good old woman told me, what an old wise man told her, what a great learned clerk told him, and gave it him in writing; and here I have it in my prayer book. I pray you (said Philoclea) let us see it, & read it. No haste but good (said Miso) you shall first know how I come by it. I was a young girl of a seven and twenty year old, & I could not go thorough the street of our village, but I might hear the young men talk; OH the pretty little eyes of Miso; OH the fine thin lips of Miso; OH the goodly fat hands of Miso: beside, how well a certain wrying I had of my neck, become me. Than the one would wink with one eye, & the other cast daiseys at me: I must confess, sing so many amorous, it made me set up my peacock's tail with the highest. Which when this good old woman perceived (OH the good would woman, well may the bones rest of the good would woman) she called me to her into her house. I remember full well it stood in the lane as you go to the Barber's shop, all the town knew her, there was a great loss of her: she called me to her, and taking first a sop of wine to comfort her heart (it was of the same wine that comes out of Candia, which we pay so dear for now a days, and in that good world was very good cheap) she called me to her; Minion said she, (indeed I was a pretty one in those days though I say it) I see a number of lads that love you; Well (said she) I say no more: do you know what Love is? With that she brought me into a corner, where there was painted a soul fiend I trow: for he had a pair of horns like a Bull, his feet cloven, as many eyes upon his body, as my gray-mare hath dappels, & for all the world so placed. This monster fat like a hangman upon a pair of gallows, in his right hand he was painted holding a crown of Laurel, in his left hand a purse of money, & out of his mouth hung a lace of two fair pictures, of a man & a woman, & such a countenance he showed, as if he would persuade folks by those allurements to come thither & be hanged. I, like a tender hearted wench, skriked out for fear of the devil. Well (said she) this fame is even Love: therefore do what thou list with all those fellows, one after another; & it recks not much what they do to thee, so it be in secret; but upon my charge, never love noon of them. Why mother (said I) could such a thing come from the belly of the fair Fenus? for a few days before, our (priest between him & me) had told me the whole story of Venus. Tush (said she) they are all deceived: and therewith gave me this Book, which she said a great maker of bailets had given to an old painter, who for a little pleasure, had bestowed both book and picture of her. Read there (said she) & thou shalt see that his mother was a cow, and the false Argus his father. And so she gave me this Book, & there now you may read it. With that the remembrance of the good old woman, made her make such a face to weep, as if it were not sorrow, it was the carcase of sorrow that appeared there. But while her tears come out, like rain falling upon dirty furrows, the latter end of her prayer book was read among these Ladies, which contained this.  

Poor Painters often with silly Poets join,  
To fill the world with strange but vain conceits:  
One brings the stuff, the other stamps the coin,  
Which breeds naught else but gloss of deceits.  
Thus Painters Cupid paint, thus Poets do  
A naked god, young blind, with arrows two.  
Is he a God, that ever flies the light?  
Or naked he, disguised in all untruth?  
If he be blind, how hitteth he so right?  
How is he young, that tamed old Phoebus' youth?  
But arrows two, and tipped with gold or lead:  
Some hurt accuse a third with horny head.  
Not, nothing so; an old false knave he is  
By Argus got on Io, than a cow:  
What time for her juno her jove did miss,  
And charge of her to Argus did allow.  
Mercury killed his false fire for this act,  
His dam a beast was pardoned beastly fact.  
With father's death, and mother's guilty shame,  
With Ioues disdain at such a rivals seed,  
The wretch compelled a runagate become,  
And learned what ill a miser state doth breed,  
To lie, feign, gloze, to steal, pry, and accuse,  
Nought in himself each other to abuse.  
Yet bears he still his parents stately gifts,  
A horned head, cloven foot, and thousand eyes,  
Some gazing still, some winking wily shifts,  
With long large ears where never rumour dies.  
His horned head doth seem the heaven to spite:  
His cloven foot doth never tread aright.  
Thus half a man, with man he daily haunts,  
Clothed in the shape which soonest may deceive:  
Thus half a beast, each beastly vice he plants,  
In those weak hearts that his advice receive.  
He proules each place still in new colours decked,  
Sucking once ill, another to infect.  
To narrow breasts he comes all wrap in gain:  
To swelling hearts he shines in honours fire:  
To open eyes all beauties he doth rain;  
Creeping to each with flattering of desire.  
But for that Loves desire most rules the eyes,  
Therein his name, there his chief triumph lies.  
Million of years this old drivel Cupid lives;  
While still more wretch, more wicked he doth prove:  
Till now at length that jove him office gives,  
(At junos' svite who much did Argus love)  
In this our world a hangman for to be,  
Of all those fools that will have all they see.   
These Ladies made sport at the description and story argument key no. 4 of Cupid. But Zelmane could scarce suffer those blasphemies (as she took them) to be read, but humbly besought Pamela she would perform her sister's request of the other part of the story. Noble Lady (answered she, beautifying her face with a sweet smiling, and the sweetness of her smiling with the beauty of her face) since I am borne a Prince's daughter, let me not give example of disobedience. My governess will have us draw cuts, and therefore I pray you let us do so: and so perhaps it will light upon you to entertain this company with some story of your own; and it is reason our ears should be willinger to hear, as your tongue is abler to deliver. I will think (answered Zelmane) excellent Princess my tongue of some value, if it can procure your tongue thus much to favour me. But Pamela pleasantly persisting to have fortune their judge, they set hands, and Mopsa (though at the first for squeamishnes going up & down, with her head like a boat in a storm) put to her golden golls among them, and blind Fortune (that seen not the colour of them) gave her the pre-eminence: and so being her time to speak (wiping her mouth, as there was good cause) she thus tumbled into her matter. In time past (said she) there argument key no. 5 was a King, the mightiest man in all his country, that had by his wife, the fairest daughter that ever did eat pap. Now this King did keep a great house, that every body might come and take their meat freely. So one day, as his daughter was sitting in her window, playing upon a harp, as sweet as any Rose; and combing her head with a comb all of precious stones, there come in a Knight into the court, upon a goodly horse, one hair of gold, & the other of silver; and so Knight casting up his eyes to the window, did fall into such love with her, that he grew not worth the bread he eat; till many a sorry day going over his head, with Daily Diligence and Grisly Groans, he won her affection, so that they agreed to run away together. And so in May, when all true hearts rejoice, they stolen out of the Castle, without staying so much as for their breakfast. Now forsooth, as they went together, often all to kissing one another, the Knight told her, he was brought up among the water Nymphs, who had so bewitched him, that if he were ever asked his name, he must presently vanish away: and therefore charged her upon his blessing, that she never ask him what he was, nor whither he would. And so a great while she kept his commandment; till once, passing through a cruel wilderness, as dark as pitch; her mouth so watered, that she could not choose but ask him the question. And then, he making the greevousest complaints that would have melted a tree to have heard them, vanished quite away: & she lay down, casting forth as pitiful cries as any shrich-owle. But having lain so, (wet by the rain, and burnt by the Sun) five days, & five nights, she got up and went over many a high hill, & many a deep river; till she come to an Aunt's house of hers; and come, & cried to her for help: and she for pity gave her a Nut, and bade her never open her Nut, till she was come to the extremest misery that ever tongue could speak of. And so she went, & she went, & never rested the evening, where she went in the morning; till she come to a second Aunt; and she gave her another Nut.  
Now good Mopsa (said the sweet Philoclea) I pray argument key no. 6 thee at my request keep this tale, till my marriage day, & I promise' thee that the best gown I wear that day shall be thine. Mopsa was very glad of the bargain, especially that it should grow a festival Tale: so that Zelmane, who desired to find the uttermost what these Ladies understood touching herself, and having understood the danger of Erona (of which before she had never heard) purposing with herself (as soon as this pursuit she now was in, was brought to any effect) to secure her, entreated again, that she might know as well the story of Plangus, as of Erona. Philoclea referred it to her sisters perfecter remembrance, who with so sweet a voice, and so winning a grace, as in themselves were of most forcible eloquence to procure attention, in this manner to their earnest request soon condescended.   

CHAP. 15.  
¹ Plangus-his parcntage. ² His trick of youth, ³ espied, ⁴ & turned over by, and to his old father. ⁵ An inveagling-womans' arts. ⁶ A guilty stepmothers devilish practices against Plangus. ⁷ Her ministers false informations. ⁸ Plangus perplexities. ⁹ His father's jealousies. The Queen's complots ¹⁰ to feed the one's suspicion, ¹¹ & work the others overthrow. ¹² Plangus taken; ¹³ delivered flietch: ¹⁴ is pursued with old hate, & new treason ¹⁵ Yet must he serve abroad, while a new heir is made at home. ¹⁶ This story broken off by Basilius.  
argument key no. 1 THe father of this Prince Plangus as yet lives, and is King of Iberia: a man (if the judgement of Plangus may be accepted) of no wicked nature, nor willingly doing evil, without himself mistake the evil, seeing it disguised under some form of goodness. This Prince, being married at the first to a Princess (who both from her ancestors, and in herself was worthy of him) by her had this son, Plangus. Not long after whose birth, the Queen (as though she had performed the message for which she was sent into the world) returned again unto her maker. The King (sealing up all thoughts of love under the image of her memory) remained a widower many years after; recompensing the grief of that disjoining from her, in conjoining in himself both a fatherly and a motherly care toward her only child, Plangus. Who being grown to man's age, as our own eyes may judge, could not but fertilly requited his father's fatherly education.  
argument key no. 2 This Prince (while yet the errors in his nature were excused by the greenness of his youth, which took all the fault upon itself) loved a private man's wife of the principal City of that Kingdom, if that may be called love, which he rather did take into himself willingly. then by which he was taken forcibly. It sufficeth, that the young man persuaded himself he loved her: she being a woman beautiful enough, if it be possible, that the outside only can justly entitle a beauty. But finding such a chase as only fled to be caught, the young Prince brought his affection with her to that point, which aught to engrave remorse in her heart, & to paint shame upon her face. And so possessed he his desire without any interruption; he constantly favouring her, and she thinking, that the enameling of a Princes name, might hide the spots of a broken wedlock. But as I have seen one that was sick of a sleeping disease, could not be made wake, but with pinching of him: so out of his sinful sleep his mind (unworthy so to be lost) was not to be called to itself, but by a sharp accident.  
It fell out, that his many-times leaving of the court argument key no. 3 (in undue times) began to be noted; and (as Princes ears be manifold) from one to another come unto the King; who (careful of his only son) sought, and found by his spies (the necessary evil servants to a King) what it was, whereby he was from his better delights so diverted.  
Whereupon, the King (to give his fault the greater argument key no. 4 blow) used such means, by disguising himself, that he found them (her husband being absent) in her house together: which he did, to make him the more feelingly ashamed of it. And that way he took, laying threatenings upon her, and upon him reproaches. But the poor young Prince (deceived with that young opinion, that if it be ever lawful to lie, it is for ones Lover,) employed all his wit to bring his father to a better opinion. And because he might bend him from that (as he counted it) crooked conceit of her, he wrested him, as much as he could possibly, to the other side: not sticking with prodigal protestations to set forth her chastity; not denying his own attempts, but thereby the more extolling her virtue. His Sophistry prevailed, his father believed; and so believed, that ere long (though he were already stepped into the winter of his age) he found himself warm in those desires, which were in his son far more excusable. To be short, he gave himself over unto it; and (because he would avoid the odious comparison of a young rival) sent away his son with an army, to the subduing of a Province lately rebelled against him, which he knew could not be a less work, than of three or four years. Wherein he behaved him so worthily, as even to this country the fame thereof come, long before his own coming: while yet his father had a speedier success, but in a far unnobler conquest. For while Plangus was away, the old man (growing only in age & affection) followed his svite with all means of unhonest servants, large promises, and each thing else that might help to countervail his own unlovelines.  
argument key no. 5 And she (whose husband about that time died) forgetting the absent Plangus, or at least not hoping of him to obtain so aspiring a purpose, left no art unused, which might keep the line from breaking, whereat the fish was already taken; not drawing him violently, but letting him play himself upon the hook, which he had greedily swallowed. For, accompanying her mourning with a doleful countenance, yet neither forgetting hansomnes in her mourning garments, nor sweetness in her doleful countenance; her words were ever seasoned with sighs; and any favour she showed, bathed in tears, that affection might see cause of pity; and pity might persuade cause of affection. And being grown skilful in his humours, she was no less skilful in applying his humours: never suffering his fear to fall to a despair, nor his hope to hasten to an assurance: she was content he should think that she loved him; and a certain stolen look should sometimes (as though it were against her will) bewray it: But if thereupon he grew bold, he strait was encountered with a mask of virtue. And that which seemeth most impossible unto me, (for as near as I can I repeat it as Plangus told it) she could not only sigh when she would, as all can do; & weep when she would, as (they say) some can do; but (being most impudent in her heart) she could, when she would, teach her cheeks blushing, and make shame fastness the cloak of shamelessness. In sum, to leave out many particularities which he recited, she did not only use so the spur, that his Desire ran on, but so the bit, that it ran on, even in such a career as she would have it; that within a while, the king, seeing with no other eyes but such as she gave him, & thinking no other thoughts but such as she taught him; having at the first liberal measure of favours, then shortened of them, when most his Desire was inflamed; he seen no other way but marriage to satisfy his longing, and her mind (as he thought) loving, but chastened loving. So that by the time Plangus returned from being notably victorious of the Rebels, he found his father, not only married, but already a father of a son & a daughter by this woman. Which though Plangus (as he had every way just cause) was grieved at; yet did his grief never bring forth either contemning of her, or repining at his father. But she (who beside she was argument key no. 6 grown a mother, and a stepmother, did read in his eyes her own fault, and made his conscience her guiltiness) thought still that his presence carried her condemnation: so much the more, as that she (unchastly attempting his wont fancies) found (for the reverence of his father's bed) a bitter refusal: which breeding rather spite than shame in her, or if it were a shame, a shame not of the fault, but of the repulse, she did not only (as hating him) thirst for a revenge, but (as fearing harm from him) endeavoured to do harm unto him. Therefore did she try the uttermost of her wicked wit, how to overthrow him in the foundation of his strength, which was, in the favour of his father: which because she seen strong both in nature and desert, it required the more cunning how to undermine it. And therefore (shunning the ordinary trade of hireling sycophants) she made her praises of him, to be accusations; and her advancing him, to be his ruine. For first with words (nearer admiration then liking) she would extol his excellencies, the goodliness of his shape, the power of his wit, the valiantness of his courage, the fortunatenes of his successes: so as the father might find in her a singular love towards him: nay, she shunned not to kindle some few sparks of jealousy in him. Thus having gotten an opinion in his father, that she was far from meaning mischief to the son, then fell she to praise him with no less vehemency of affection, but with much more cunning of malice. For than she sets forth the liberty of his mind, the high flying of his thoughts, the fitness in him to bear rule, the singular love the Subjects bore him; that it was doubtful, whither his wit were greater in winning their favours, or his courage in employing their favours: that he was not borne to live a subiect-life, each action of his bearing in it Majesty, such a Kingly entertainment, such a Kingly magnificence, such a Kingly heart for enterprises: especially remembering those virtues, which in a successor are no more honoured by the subjects, then suspected of the Princes. Than would she by putting-of objections, bring in objections to her husband's head, already infected with suspicion. Nay (would she say) I dare take it upon my death, that he is no such son, as many of like might have been, who loved greatness so well, as to build their greatness upon their father's ruine. Indeed Ambition, like Love, can abide no lingering, & ever urgeth on his own successes; hating nothing, but what may stop them. But the Gods forbidden, we should ever once dream of any such thing in him, who perhaps might be content, that you & the world should know, what he can do: but the more power he hath to hurt, the more admirable is his praise, that he will not hurt. Than ever remembering to strengthen the suspicion of his estate with private jealousy of her love, doing him excessive honour when he was in presence, and repeating his pretty speeches and graces in his absence; beside, causing him to be employed in all such dangerous matters, as either he should perish in them, or if he prevailed, they should increase his glory: which she made a weapon to wound him, until she found that suspicion began already to speak for itself, and that her husband's ears were grown hungry of rumours, and his eyes prying into every accident.  
Than took she help to her of a servant near about argument key no. 7 her husband, whom she knew to be of a hasty ambition, and such a one, who wanting true sufficiency to raise him, would make a ladder of any mischief. Him she useth to deal more plainly in alleging causes of jealousy, making him know the fittest times when her husband already was stirred that way. And so they two, with divers ways, nourished one humour, like musicans, that singing divers parts, make one music. He sometime with fearful countenance would desire the King to look to himself; for that all the court and City were full of whisperings, and expectation of some sudden change, upon what ground himself knew not. Another time he would counsel the King to make much of his son, and hold his favour, for that it was too late now to keep him under. Now seeming to fear himself, because (he said) Plangus loved noon of them that were great about his father. Lastly, breaking with him directly (making a sorrowful countenance, & an humble gesture bear false witness for his true meaning) that he found, not only soldiery, but people weary of his government, & all their affections bend upon Plangus. Both he and the Queen concurring in strange dreams, & each thing else, that in a mind (already perplexed) might breed astonishment: so that within a while, all Plangus actions began to be translated into the language of suspicion.  
argument key no. 8 Which though Plangus found, yet could he not avoid, even contraries being driven to draw one yoke of argument: if he were magnificent, he spent much with an aspiring intent: if he spared, he heaped much with an aspiring intent: if he spoke courteously, he angled the people's hearts: if he were silent, he mused upon some dangerous plot. In sum, if he could have turned himself to as many forms as Proteus, every form should have been made tedious.  
argument key no. 9 But so it fell out, that a mere trifle gave them occasion of further proceeding. The King one morning, going to a vineyard that lay a long the hill where his castle stood, he seen a vine-labourer, that finding a bow broken, took a branch of the same bow for want of another thing, and tied it about the place broken. The King ask the fellow what he did, Mary (said he) I make the son bind the father. This word (finding the King already superstitious through suspicion) amazed him strength, as a presage of his own fortune: so that, returning, and breaking with his wife how much he misdoubted his estate, she made such gainsaying answers, as while they strove, strove to be overcome. But even while the doubts most boiled, she thus nourished them.  
She underhand dealt with the principal men of that argument key no. 10 country, that at the great Parliament (which was then to be held) they should in the name of all the estates persuade the King (being now stepped deeply into old age) to make Plangus, his associate in government with him: assuring them, that not only she would join with them, but that the father himself would take it kindly; charging them not to acquaint Plangus withal; for that perhaps it might be harmful unto him, if the King should found, that he were a party. They (who thought they might do it, not only willingly, because they loved him, & truly, because such indeed was the mind of the people, but safely, because she who ruled the King was agreed thereto) accomplished her counsel: she indeed keeping promise of vehement persuading the same: which the more she & they did, the more she knew her husband would fear, & hate the cause of his fear. Plangus found this, & humbly protested against such desire, or will to accept. But the more he protested, the more his father thought he dissembled, accounting his integrity to be but a cunning face of falsehood: and therefore delaying the desire of his subjects, attended some fit occasion to lay hands upon his son: which his wife thus brought to pass.  
She caused that same minister of hers to go unto Plangus, argument key no. 11 & (enabling his words with great show of faith, & endearing them with desire of secrecy) to tell him, that he found his ruin conspired by his stepmother, with certain of the noble men of that country, the King himself giving his consent, and that few days should pass, before the putting it in practise: with all discovering the very truth indeed, with what cunning his stepmother had proceeded. This agreeing with Plangus his own opinion, made him give him the better credit: yet not so far, as to fly out of his country (according to the naughty fellows persuasion) but to attended, and to see further. Whereupon the fellow (by the direction of his mistress) told him one day, that the same night, about one of the clock, the King had appointed to have his wife, & those noble men together, to deliberate of their manner of proceeding against Plangus: & therefore offered him, that if himself would agreed, he would bring him into a place where he should hear all that passed; & so have the more reason both to himself, and to the world, to seek his safety. The poor Plangus (being subject to that only disadvantage of honest hearts, credulity) was persuaded by him: & arming himself (because of his late going) was closely conveyed into the place appointed. In the mean time his stepmother, making all her gestures cunningly counterfeit a miserable affliction, she lay almost groveling on the flower of her chamber, not suffering any body to comfort her; until they calling for her husband, and he held of with long inquiry, at length, she told him (even almost crying out every word) that she was weary of her life, since she was brought to that plunge, either to conceal her husband's murder, or accuse her son, who had ever been more dear, than a son unto her. Than with many interruptions and exclamations she told him, that her son Plangus (sollicting her in the old affection between them) had besought her to put her helping hand to the death of the King; assuring her, that though all the laws in the world were against it, he would marry her when he were King.  
She had not fully said thus much, with many pitiful argument key no. 12 digressions, when in comes the same fellow, that brought Plangus: & running himself out of breath, fell at the King's feet, beseeching him to save himself, for that there was a man with sword drawn in the next room. The King affrighted, went out, & called his guard, who entering the place, found indeed Plangus with his sword in his hand, but not naked, but standing suspiciously enough, to one already suspicious. The King (thinking he had put up his sword because of the noise) never took leisure to hear his answer, but made him prisoner, meaning the next morning to put him to death in the market place.  
But the day had no sooner opened the eyes & ears argument key no. 13 of his friends & followers, but that there was a little army of them, who come, and by force delivered him; although numbers on the other side (abused with the fine framing of their report) took arms for the King. But Plangus, though he might have used the force of his friends to revenge his wrong, and get the crown; yet the natural love of his father, and hate to make their suspicion seem just, caused him rather to choose a voluntary exile, than to make his father's death the purchase of his life: & therefore went he to Tiridates, whose mother was his father's sister, living in his Court eleven or Twelve years, ever hoping by his intercession, and his own desert, to recover his father's grace. At the end of which time, the war of Erona happened, which my sister with the cause thereof discoursed unto you.  
argument key no. 14 But his father had so deeply engraved the suspicion in his heart, that he thought his flight rather to proceed of a fearful guiltiness, then of an humble faithfulness; & therefore continued his hate, with such vehemency, that he did ever hate his Nephew Tiridates, and afterwards his niece Artaxia, because in their Court he received countenance, leaving no means unattempted of destroying his son; among other, employing that wicked servant of his, who undertook to empoison him. But his cunning disguised him not so well, but that the watchful servants of Plangus did discover him. Whereupon the wretch was taken, & (before his wel-deserued execution) by torture forced to confess the particularities of this, which in general I have told you.  
argument key no. 15 Which confession autentically set down (though Tiridates with solemn Embassage sent it to the King) wrought no effect. For the King having put the reins of the government into his wives hand, never did so much as read it; but sent it strength by her to be considered. So as they rather heaped more hatred upon Plangus, for the death of their servant. And now finding, that his absence, and their reports had much diminished the wavering people's affection towards Plangus, with advancing fit persons for faction, and granting great immunities to the commons, they prevailed so far, as to 'cause the son of the second wife, called Palladius, to be proclaimed successor, and Plangus quite excluded: so that Plangus was driven to continued his serving Tiridates, as he did in the war against Erona, and brought home Artaxia, as my sister told you; when Erona by the treason of Amiphilus, But at that word she stopped. For Basilius argument key no. 16 (not able longer to abide their absence) come so dainly among them, and with smiling countenance (telling Zelmane he was afraid she had stolen away his daughters) invited them to follow the suns counsel in going then to their lodging; for indeed the Sun was ready to set. They yielded, Zelmane meaning some other time to understand the story of Amiphilus treason, and Erona danger, whose case she greatly tendered. But Miso had no sooner espied Basilius, but that as spitefully, as her rotten voice could utter it, she set forth the sauciness of Amphialus. But Basilius only attended what Zelmane's opinion was, who though she hated Amphialus, yet the nobility of her courage prevailed over it, and she desired he might be pardoned that youthful error; considering the reputation he had, to be one of the best knights in the world; so as hereafter he governed himself, as one remembering his fault. Basilius giving the infinite terms of praises to Zelmane's both valour in conquering, and pitifulness in pardoning, commanded no more words to be made of it, since such he thought was her pleasure.   

CHAP. 16.  
¹ The cumber of Zelmane's love and lovers. ² Gynoecia's love-lamentations. ³ Zelmane's passions ⁴ & sonnet. ⁵ Basilius-his wooing, and Zelmane's answers. ⁶ Philoclea feed attorney to pled her father's cause.  
argument key no. 1 SO brought he them up to visit his wife, where between her, & him, the poor Zelmane received a tedious entertainment; oppressed with being loved, almost as much, as with loving. Basilius not so wife in covering his passion, could make his tongue go almost no other pace, but to run into those immoderate praises, which the foolish Lover thinks short of his Mistress, though they reach far beyond the heavens. But Gynoecia (whom womanly modesty did more outwardly bridle) yet did oftentimes use the advantage of her sex in kissing Zelmane, as she sat upon her bedde-side by her; which was but still more and more sweet incense, to cast upon the fire wherein her heart was sacrificed: Once Zelmane could not stir, but that, (as if they had been poppets, whose motion stood only upon her pleasure) Basilius with serviceable steps, Gynoecia with greedy eyes would follow her. Basilius' mind Gynccia well knew, and could have found in her heart to laugh at, if mirth could have borne any proportion with her fortune. But all Gynoecia's actions were interpreted by Basilius, as proceeding from jealousy of his amorousness. Zelmane betwixt both (like the poor child, whose father while he beats him, will make him believe it is for love; or like the sick man, to whom the Physician swears, the ill-tasting wallowish medicine he proffers, is of a good taste) their love was hateful, their courtesy troublesome, their presence cause of her absence thence, where not only her light, but her life consisted. Alas (thought she to herself) dear Dorus, what odds is there between thy destiny & my. For thou hast to do in thy pursuit but with shepherdish folks, who trouble thee with a little envious care, and affected diligence. But I (besides that I have now Miso, the worst of thy devils, let lose upon me) am waited on by Princes, and watched by the two wakeful eyes of Love and jealousy. Alas, incomparable Philoclea, thou ever seest me, but dost never see me as I am: thou hearest willingly all that I dare say, and I dare not say that which were most fit for thee to hear. Alas who ever but I was imprisoned in liberty, and banished being still present? To whom but me have lovers bene jailor's, and honour a captivity?  
But the night coming on with her silent steps upon argument key no. 2 them, they parted each from other (if at jest they could be parted, of whom every one did live in another) and went about to flatter sleep with their beds, that disdained to bestow itself liberally upon such eyes which by their will would ever be looking: and in least measure upon Gynoecia, who (when Basilius after long tossing was gotten a sleep, and the cheerful comfort of the lights removed from her) kneeling up in her bed, began with a soft voice, and swollen heart, to renew the curses of her birth; & then in a manner embracing her bed; Ah chastest bed of my (said she) which never heretofore couldst accuse me of one defiled thought, how canst thou now receive this desastred changeling? Happy, happy be they only which be not: and thy blessedness only in this respect thou mayst feel, that thou hast no feeling. With that the furiously tare off great part of her fair hair: Take here forgotten virtue (said she) this miserable sacrifice; while my soul was clothed with modesty, that was a comely ornament: now why should nature crown that head, which is so wicked, as her only despair is, she cannot be enough wicked? Moore she would have said, but that Basilius (awaked with the noise) took her in his arms, & begun to comfort her; the goodman thinking, it was all for a jealous love of him: which humour if she would a little have maintained, perchance it might have weakened his new conceived fancies. But he finding her answers wandering from the purpose, left her to herself (glad the next morning to take the advantage of a sleep, which a little before day, over-watched with sorrow, her tears had as it were sealed up in her eyes) to have the more conference with Zelmane, who baited on this fashion by these two lovers, & ever kept from any mean to declare herself, found in herself a daily increase of her violent desires; like a river the more swelling, the more his current is stopped.  
argument key no. 3 The chief recreation she could found in her anguish, was sometime to visit that place, where first she was so happy as to see the cause of her unhap. There would she kiss the ground, and thank the trees, bliss the air, & do doutiful reverence to every thing that she thought did accompany her at their first meeting: then return again to her inward thoughts; sometimes despair darkening all her imaginations, sometimes the active passion of Love cheering and cleared her invention, how to nubar that cumbersome hindrance of her two ill-matched lovers. But this morning Basilius himself gave her good occasion to go beyond them. For having combed and tricked himself more curiously, than any time forty winters before, coming where Zelmane was, he found her given over to her musical muses, to the great pleasure of the good old Basilius, who retired himself behind a tree, while she with a most sweet voice did utter these passionate verses.  

Loved I am, and yet complain of Love: argument key no. 4  
As loving not, accused, in Love I die.  
When pity most I crave, I cruel prove:  
Still seeking Love, love found as much I fly.  
Burned in myself, I muse at others fire:  
What I call wrong, I do the same, and more:  
Bard of my will, I have beyond desire:  
I wail for want, and yet an chokte with store.  
This is thy work, thou God for ever blind:  
Though thousands old, a Boy entitled still.  
Thus children do the silly birds they find,  
With stroking hurt, and too much cramming kill.  
Yet thus much Love, OH Love, I crave of thee:  
Let me be loved, or else not loved be.   
Basilius made no great haste from behind the tree, till argument key no. 5 he perceived she had fully ended her music. But then loathe to lose the precious fruit of time, he presented himself unto her, falling down upon both his knees, and holding up his hands, as the old governess of Danae is painted, when she so dainly seen the golden shower, OH heavenvly woman, or earthly Goddess (said he) let not my presence be odious unto you, nor my humble svit seem of small weight in your ears. Vouchsafe your eyes to descend upon this miserable old-man, whose life hath hitherto been maintained but to serve as an increase of your beautiful triumphs. You only have over thrown me, & in my bondage consists my glory. Suffer not your own work to be despised of you: but look upon him with pity, whose life serves for your praise. Zelmane (keeping a countenance ascanses she understood him not) told him, It become her evil to suffer such excessive reverence of him, but that it worse become her to correct him, to whom she owed duty: that the opinion she had of his wisdom was such, as made her esteem greatly of his words; but that the words themselves founded so, as she could not imagine what they might intent. Intent? (said Basilius, proud that that was brought in question) what may they intent, but a refreshing of my soul, and a swaging of my heat, and enjoying those your excellencies, wherein my life is upheld, and my death threatened? Zelmane lifting up her face as if she had received a mortal injury of him, And is this the devotion your ceremonies have been bend unto? said she: Is it the disdain of my estate, or the opinion of my lightness, that have emboldened such base fancies towards me? enjoying quoth you? now little joy come to them that yield to such enjoying. Poor Basilius was so appalled, that his legs bowed under him; his eyes looked as though he would gladly hide himself; and his old blood going to his heart, a general shaking all over his body possessed him. At length with a wan mouth; he was about to give a stammering answer, when it come into Zelmane's head by this devise to make her profit of his folly; and therefore with a relented countenance, thus said unto him. Your words (mighty Prince) were unfit either for me to hear, or you to speak: but yet the large testimony I see of your affection makes me willing to suppress a great number of errors. Only thus much I think good to say, that the same words in my Lady Philoclea's mouth, as from one woman to another (so as there were no other body by) might have had a better grace; and perchance have found a gentler receipt.  
Basilius (whose senses by Desire were held open, and argument key no. 6 conceit was by Love quickened) heard scarcely half her answer out, but that (as if speedy flight might save his life) he turned away, and ran with all the speed his body would suffer him, towards his daughter Philoclea: whom he found at that time dutifully watching by her mother, and Miso curiously watching her; having left Mopsa to do the like service to Pamela. Basilius forthwith calling Philoclea aside, (with all the coniving words which Desire could indite, and authority utter) besought her she would preserve his life, in whom her life was begun; she would save his grey hairs from rebuke, and his aged mind from despair; that if she were not cloyed with his company, and that she thought not the earth overburdened with him, she would cool his fiery grief, which was to be done but by her breath. That in fine, whatsoever he was, he was nothing but what it pleased Zelmane; all the powers of his spirit depending of her: that if she continued cruel, he could no more sustain his life, than the earth remain fruitful in the suns continual absence. He concluded, she should in one payment requited all his deserts: and that she needed not disdain any service (though never so mean) which was warranted by the sacred name of a father. Philoclea more glad than ever she had known herself, that she might by this occasion, enjoy the private conference of Zelmane, yet had so sweet a feeling of virtue in her mind, that she would not suffer a vile colour to be cast over her fair thoughts; but with humble grace answered her father: That there needed neither promise nor persuasion to her, to make her do her uttermost for her father's service. That for Zelmane's favour, she would in all virtuous sort seek it towards him: and that as she would not pierce further into his meaning, than himself should declare, so would she interpret all his doings to be accomplished in goodness: and therefore desired, (if otherwise it were) that he would not impart it to her, who then should be forced to begin (by true obedience) a show of disobedience: rather performing his general commandment, which had ever been, to embrace virtue, than any new particular, sprung out of passion, and contrary to the former. Basilius' content to take that, since he could have no more (thinking it a great point, if by her means, he could get but a more free access unto Zelmane) allowed her reasons, & took her prosser thankfully, desiring only a speedy return of comfort. Philoclea was parting, and Miso strength behind her, like Allecto following Proserpina. But Basilius forced her to stay, though with much a do, she being sharp-set upon the fulfilling of a shrewd office, in overlooking Philoclea: and so said to Basilius, that she did as she was commanded, and could not answer it to Gynoecia, if she were any whit from Philoclea: telling him true, that he did evil to take her charge from her. But Basilius, (swearing he would put out her eyes, if she stirred a foot to trouble his daughter) gave her a stop for that while.   

CHAP. 17.  
¹ Zelmane's tears, ² and tearful ditty. ³ Philoclea enters conference with her. ⁴ She shues, and shows herself Prince Pyrocles. ⁵ Philoclea fears much, but loves more. ⁶ Their conclusion, ⁷ with re-entry to their intermitted historiologie.  
SO away departed Philoclea, with a new field of fancies for her travailing mind. For well she saw, her father was grown her adverse party, and yet her fortune such, as she must favour her Rival; and the fortune of that fortune such, as neither that did hurt her, nor any contrary mean help her.  
But she walked but a little on, before she seen Zelmane argument key no. 1 lying upon a bank, with her face so bend over Ladon, that (her tears falling into the water) one might have thought, that she began meltingly to be metamorphosed to the under-running river. But by and by, with speech she made known, as well that she lived, as that she sorrowed. Fair streams (said she) that do vouchsafe in your clearness to represent unto me my blubbered face, let the tribute-offer of my tears unto you, procure your stay a while with me, that I may begin yet at last, to find some thing that pities me: and that all things of comfort and pleasure do not fly away from me. But if the violence of your spring command you to haste away, to pay your duties to your great prince, the Sea, yet carry with you these few words, and let the uttermost ends of the world know them. A Love more clear than yourselves, dedicated to a Love (I fear) more cold than yourselves, with the clearness lays a night of sorrow upon me; and with the coldness inflames a world of fire within me. With that she took a willow stick, and wrote in a sandy bank these argument key no. 2 few verses.  

Over these brooks trusting to ease my eyes,  
(My eyes even great in labour with their tears)  
I laid my face; my face wherein there lies  
Clusters of clouds, which no Sun ever clears.  
In watery glass my watric eyes I see:  
Sorrows ill eased, where sorrows painted be.   

My thoughts imprisonde in my secret woes,  
With flamie breathes do issue often in sound:  
The sound to this strange air no sooner goes,  
But that it doth with Echoes force rebound.  
And make me hear the plaints I would refrain:  
Thus outward helps my inward griefs maintain.   

Now in this sand I would discharge my mind,  
And cast from me part of my burdenous cares:  
But in the sand my tales forctolde I find,  
And see therein how well the writer fares.  
Since stream, air, sand, my eyes and ears conspire:  
argument key no. 3 What hope to quench, where each thing blows the fire?   
And as soon as she had written them (a new swarm of thoughts stinging her mind) she was ready with her foot to give the new-born letters both death and burial. But Philoclea (to whom delight of hearing and seeing was before a stay from interrupting her) gave herself to be seen unto her, with such a lightning of Beauty upon Zelmane, that neither she could look on, nor would look of. At last Philoclea (having a little mused how to cut the thread even, between her own hopeless affection, and her father's unbridled hope) with eyes, cheeks, and lips, (where of each sang their part, to make up the harmony of bashfulness) began to say, My Father to whom I own myself, & therefore, When Zelmane (making a womanish habit to be the Armour of her boldness, giving up her life to the lips of Philoclea, and taking it again by the sweetness of those kisses) humbly besought her to keep her speech for a while within the Paradise of her mind. For well she knew her father's errand, who should soon receive a sufficient answer. But now she demanded leave not to lose this long sought-for commodity of time, to case her heart thus far, that if in her agonies her destiny was to be condemned by Philoclea's mouth, at left Philoclea might know, whom she had condemned. Philoclea easily yielded to grant her own desire: and so making the green bank the situation, and the river the prospect of the most beautiful buildings of Nature, Zelmane doubting how to begin, though her thoughts already had run to the end, with a mind fearing the unworthiness of every word that should be presented to her ears, at length brought it forth in this manner.  
Most beloved Lady, the incomparable excellencies argument key no. 4 of yourself, (waited-on by the greatness of your estate) and the importance of the thing (whereon my life consisteth) doth require both many ceremonies before the beginning, and many circumstances in the uttering my speech, both bold, and fearful. But the small opportunity of envious occasion (by the malicious eye hateful Love doth cast upon me) and the extreme bent of my affection (which will either break out in words, or break my heart) compel me, not only to embrace the smallest time, but to pass by respects due unto you, in respect of your poor caitiffs life, who is now, or never to be preserved. I do therefore vow unto you, hereafter never more to omit all dutiful form: do you only now vouchsafe to hear the matter of a mind most perplexed. If ever the found of Love have come to your ears, or if ever you have understood, what force it hath had to conquer the strongest hearts, and change the most settled estates: receive here an example of those strange Tragedies; one, that in himself containeth the particularities of all those misfortunes: and from henceforth believe that such a thing may be, since you shall see it is. You shall see (I say) a living image, and a present story of what Love can do, when he is bend to ruin.  
But alas, whither goest thou my tongue? or how doth my heart consent to adventure the revealing his nearest touching secret? But peace Fear, thou comest too late, when already the harm is taken. Therefore I say again, OH only Princess, attended here a miserable miracle of affection. Behold here before your eyes Pyrocles, Prince of Macedon, whom you only have brought to this game of Fortune, and unused Metamorphosis: whom you only have made neglect his country, forget his Father, and lastly, forsake to be Pyrocles: the same Pyrocles, who (you heard) was betrayed by being put in a ship, which being burned, Pyrocles was drowned. OH most true presage: for these traitors, my eyes, putting me in a ship of Desire, which daily burneth, those eyes (I say) which betrayed me, will never leave till they have drowned me. But be not, be not, (most excellent Lady) you that Nature hath made to be the Lodestar of comfort, be not the Rock of shipwreck: you whom virtue hath made the Princess of felicity, be not the minister of ruin: you, whom my choice hath made the Goddess of my safety, OH let not, let not, from you be powered upon me destruction. Your fair face hath many tokens in it of amazement at my words: think than what his amazement is, from whence they come: since no words can carry with them the life of the inward feeling. I desire, that my desire may be weighed in the balances of Honour, and let Virtue hold them. For if the highest Love in no base person may aspire to grace, then may I hope your beauty will not be without pity. If otherwise you be (alas but let it never be so) resolved, yet shall not my death be comfortless, receiving it by your sentence.  
The joy which wrought into Pygmalion's mind, while argument key no. 5 he found his beloved image was softer, & warmer in his folded arms, till at length it accomplished his gladness with a perfect woman's shape (still beautified with the former perfections) was even such, as by each degree of Zelmane's words creepingly entered into Philoclea: till her pleasure was fully made up with the manifesting of his being; which was such as in hope did overcome Hope. Yet Doubt would feign have played his part in her mind, and called in question, how she should be assured that Zelmane was Pyrocles. But Love strength stood up & deposed, that a lie could not come from the mouth of Zelmane. Besides, a certain spark of honour, which rose in her well-disposed mind, made her fear to be alone with him, with whom alone she desired to be (with all the other contradictions growing in those minds, which neither absolutely climb the rock of Virtue, nor freely sink into the sea of Vanity) but that spark soon gave place, or at jest gave no more light in her mind, than a candle doth in the suns presence. But even sick with a surfeit of joy, and fearful of she knew not what (as he that newly finds huge treasures, doubts whither he sleep or no; or like a fearful Deer, which then looks most about, when he comes to the best feed) with a shrugging kind of tremor through all her principal parts, she gave these affectionate words for answer. Alas, how painful a thing it is to a divided mind to make a wel-joined answer? how hard it is to bring inward shame to outward confession? and what handsomeness trow you can be observed in that speech, which is made one knows not to whom? Shall I say o Zelmane? Alas your words be against it. Shall I say Prince Pyrocles? wretch that I am, your show is manifest against it. But this, this I may well say; If I had continued as I aught, Philoclea, you had either never been, or ever been Zelmane: you had either never attempted this change, set on with hope, or never discovered it, stopped with despair. But I fear me, my behaviour ill governed, gave you the first comfort: I fear me, my affection ill hid, hath given you this last assurance: I fear indeed, the weakness of my government before, made you think such a mask would be grateful unto me: & my weaker government since, makes you to pull of the visar. What shall I do then? shall I seek farfetched inventions? shall I labour to lay marble colours over my ruinous thoughts? or rather, though the pureness of my virgin-minde be stained, let me keep the true simplicity of my word. True it is, alas, too true it is, o Zelmane (for so I love to call thee, since in that name my love first began, and in the shade of that name my love shall best lie hidden,) that even while so thou wert, (what eye bewitched me I know not) my passions were fit to desire, then to be desired. Shall I say then, I am sorry, or that my love must be turned to hate, since thou art turned to Pyrocles? how may that well be, since when thou wert Zelmane, the despair thou mightest not be thus, did most torment me. Thou hast then the victory: use it with virtue. Thy virtue won me; with virtue preserve me. Dost thou love me? keep me then still worthy to be beloved.  
Than held she her tongue, and cast down a self-accusing argument key no. 6 look, finding, that in herself she had (as it were) shot out of the bow of her affection, a more quick opening of her mind, than she minded to have done. But Pyrocles so carried up with joy, that he did not envy the God's felicity, presented her with some jewels of right princely value, as some little tokens of his love, & quality: and withal showed her letters from his father King Euarchus, unto him, which even in the Sea had amongst his jewels bene preserved. But little needed those prooses to one, who would have fallen out with herself, rather than make any contrary conjectures to Zelmane's speeches; so that with such embracements, as it seemed their souls desired to meet, and their hearts to kiss, as their mouths did: which feign Pyrocles would have sealed with the chief arms of his desire, but Philoclea commanded the contrary; and yet they passed the promise of marriage.  
argument key no. 7 And then at Philoclea's entreaty, who was willing to purloin all occasions of remaining with Zelmane, she told her the story of her life, from the time of their departing from Erona, for the rest she had already understood of her sister. For (said she) I have understood, how you first in the company of your Noble cousin Musidorus parted from Thessalia, and of divers adventures, which with no more danger than glory you passed through, till your coming to the succour of the Queen Erona; and the end of that war (you might perceive by myself) I had understood of the Prince Plangus. But what since was the course of your doings, until you come, after so many victories, to make a conquest of poor me, that I know not, the fame thereof having rather showed it by pieces; then delivered any full form of it. Therefore, dear Pyrocles (for what can my ears be so sweetly fed with as to hear you of you) be liberal unto me of those things which have made you indeed precious to the world, and now doubt not to tell of your perils; for since I have you here out of them, even the remembrance of them is pleasant. Pyrocles easily perceived she was content with kindness, to put of occasion of further kindness; wherein Love showed himself a cowardly boy, that durst not attempt for fear of offending. But rather Love proved himself valiant, that durst with the sword of reverent duty gainstand the force of so many enraged desires. But so it was, that though he knew this discourse was to entertain him from a more strength parley, yet he duist not but kiss his rod, and gladly make much of the entertainment which she allotted unto him: and therefore with a desirous sigh chastening his breast for too much desiring, Sweet Princess of my life (said he) what Trophies, what Triumph, what Monuments, what Histories may ever make my fame yield so sweet a Music to my ears, as that it pleaseth you to lend your mind to the knowledge of any thing touching Pyrocles, only therefore of value, because he is your Pyrocles? And therefore grow I now so proud, as to think it worth the hearing, since you vouchsafe to give it hearing. Therefore (only height of my hope) vouchsafe to know, that after the death of Tiridates, and settling Erona in her government; for settled we left her, howsoever since (as I perceived by your speech the last day) the ungrateful treason of her ill-chosen husband overthrew her (a thing in truth never till this time by me either heard, or suspected) for who could think without having such a mind as Antiphilus, that so great a beauty as Eronas (indeed excellent) could not have held his affection? so great goodness could not have bound gratefulness? and so high advancement could not have satisfied his ambition? But therefore true it is, that wickedness may well be compared to a bottomless pit, into which it is far easier to keep one's self from falling, then being fallen, to give one's self any stay from falling infinitely. But for my cozen, and me, upon this cause we parted from Erona.   

CHAP. 18.  
¹ Anaxius-his surcuidrie; ² and challenge to Pyrocles, accepted. ³ The execution of Ladies done on a Light-of-love. ⁴ Pyrocles-his intercession in the cause. ⁵ The lewd parts of that light lecher. ⁶ His scoffing excuses. ⁷ Dido's revenge on him stopped, ⁸ and his revenge on her stayed by Pyrocles.  
argument key no. 1 EVardes (the brave & mighty Prince, whom it was my fortune to kill in the combat for Erona) had three Nephews, sons to a sister of his; all three set among the foremost ranks of Fame for great minds to attempt, and great force to perform what they did attempt; especially the eldest, by name Anaxius; to whom all men would willingly have yielded the height of praise, but that his nature was such, as to bestow it upon himself, before any could give it. For of so unsupportable a pride he was, that where his deed might well stir envy, his demeanour did rather breed disdain. And if it be true that the Giants ever made war against heaven, he had been a fit ensign-bearer for that company. For nothing seemed hard to him, though impossible; and nothing unjust, while his liking was his justice. Now he in these wars had flatly refused his aid; because he could not brook, that the worthy Prince Plagus was by his cozen Tiridates preferred before him. For allowing no other weights, but the sword & spear in judging of desert, how-much he esteemed himself before Plangus in that, so much would he have had his allowance in his service.  
But now that he understood that his uncle was slain argument key no. 2 by me, I think rather scorn that any should kill his uncle, than any kindness (an un-used guest to an arrogant soul) made him seek his revenge; I must confess in manner gallant enough. For he sent a challenge to me to meet him at a place appointed, in the confines of the kingdom of Lycia; where he would prove upon me, that I had by some treachery overcome his uncle, whom else many hundreds such as I, could not have withstood. Youth & success made me willing enough to accept any such bargain; especially, because I had heard that your cozen Amphialus (who for some years hath universally borne the name of the best Knight in the world) had divers times fought with him, & never been able to master him; but so had left him, that every man thought Anaxius in that one virtue of courtesy far short of him, in all other his match; Anaxius still deeming himself for his superior. Therefore to him I would go, and I would needs go alone, because so I understood for certain, he was; and (I must confess) desirous to do something without the company of the incomparable Prince Musidorus, because in my heart I acknowledge that I owed more to his presence, then to any thing in myself, whatsoever before I had done. For of him indeed (as of any worldly cause) I must grant, as received, what ever there is, or may be good in me. He taught me by word, and best by example, giving me in him so lively an Image of virtue, as ignorance could not cast such mist over my eyes, as not to see, and to love it, and all with such dear friendship and care, as (o heavens) how can my life ever requited unto him? which made me indeed found in myself such a kind of depending upon him, as without him I found a weakness, and a mistrustfulness of myself, as one strayed from his best strength, when at any time I missed him. Which humour perceiving to overrule me, I strove against it; not that I was unwilling to depend upon him in judgement, but by weakness I would not; which though it held me to him, made me unworthy of him. Therefore I desired his leave, and obtained it: such confidence he had in me, preferring my reputation before his own tenderness; and so privately went from him, he determining (as after I knew) in secret manner, not to be far from the place, where we appointed to meet, to prevent any soul play that might be offered unto me. Full loathe was Erona to let us departed from her, (as it were) foreseeling the harms which after fell to her. But I, (rid fully from those cumbers of kindness, and half a days journey in my way toward Anaxius) met an adventure, (though in itself of small importance) I will tell you at large, because by the occasion thereof I was brought to as great cumber and danger, as lightly any might escape.  
argument key no. 3 As I passed through a Land (each side where of was so bordered both with high timber trees, and copses of far more humble growth, that it might easily bring a solitary mind to look for no other companions than the wild burgesses of the forest) I heard certain cries, which coming by pauses to my ears from within the wood of the right hand, made me well assured by the greatness of the cry, it was the voice of a man, though it were a veric unmanlike voice, so to cry. But making my ear my guide, I left not many trees behind me, before I seen at the bottom of one of them a gentleman bound (with many garters) hand & foot, so as well he might tumble and toss, but neither run nor resist he could. Upon him (like so many Eagles upon an Ox) were nine Gentlewomen; truly such, as one might well enough say, they were handsome. Each of them held bodkins in their hands, wherewith they continually pricked him, having been beforehand unarmed of any defence from the waist upward, but only of his shirt: so as the poor man wept and bled, cried and prayed, while they sported themselves in his pain, and delighted in his prayers, as the arguments of their victory.  
I was moved to compassion, and so much the more argument key no. 4 that he strait called to me for succour, desiring me at least to kill him, to deliver him from those torments. But before myself could resolve, much less any other tell what I would resolve, there come in choleric haste towards me about seven or eight knights; the foremost of which willed me to get me away, and not to trouble the Ladies, while they were taking their due revenge, but with so over-mastring a manner of pride, as truly my heart could not brook it: & therefore (answering them, that how I would have defended him from the Ladies I knew not, but from them I would) I began a combat first with him particularly, and after his death with the others (that had less good manners) jointly. But such was the end of it, that I kept the field with the death of some, and flight of others. In so much as the women (afraid, what angry victory would bring forth) ran away; saving only one; who was so fleshed in malice, that neither during, nor after the fight, she gave any truce to her cruelty, but still used the little instrument of her great spite, to the well-witnest pain of the impatient patient: and was now about to put out his eyes, which all this while were spared, because they should do him the discomfort of seeing who prevailed over him. When I come in, and after much ado, brought her to some conference, (for some time it was before she would hearken, more before she would speak; & most, before she would in her speech leave off that remembrance of her bodkin) but at length when I pulled off my headpiece, and humbly entreated her pardon, or knowledge why she was cruel; out of breath more with choler (which increased in his own exercise) them with the pain she took, much to this purpose she gave her grief unto my knowledge. Gentleman (said she) much it is against my will to forbear any time the executing of my just revenge upon this naughty creature, a man in nothing, but in deceiving women; But because I see you are young, and like enough to have the power (if you would have the mind) to do much more mischief, than he, I am content upon this bad subject to read a lecture to your virtue.  
argument key no. 5 This man called Pamphilus, in birth I must confess is noble (but what is that to him, if it shallbe a stain to his dead ancestors to have left such an offspring?) in shape as you see not uncomely (indeed the fit mask of his disguised falsehood) in conversation wittily pleasant, and pleasantly gamesome; his eyes full of merry simplicity, his words of hearty companablenesse; and such a one, whose head one would not think so stayed, as to think mischievously: delighted in all such things, which by imparting their delight to others, makes the user thereof welcome; as, Music, Dancing, Hunting, Feasting, Riding, & such like. And to conclude, such a one, as who can keep him at arms end, need never wish a better companion. But under these qualities lies such a poisonous addar as I will tell you. For by those gifts of Nature and Fortune (being in all places acceptable) he creeps, nay (to say truly) he flies so into the favour of poor filly women, that I would be too much ashamed to confess, if I had not revenge in my hand, as well as shame in my cheeks. For his heart being wholly delighted in deceiving us, we could never be warned, but rather, one bird caught, served for a stolen to bring in more. For the more he got, the more still he showed, that he (as it were) gave away to his new mistress, when he betrayed his promises to the former. The cunning of his flattery, the readiness of his tears, the infiniteness of his vows, were but among the weakest threads of his net. But the stirring our own passions, and by the entrance of them, to make himself Lord of our forces; there lay his Master's part of cunning, making us now jealous, now envious, now proud of what we had, desirous of more; now giving one the triumph, to see him that was Prince of many, Subject to her; now with an estranged look, making her fear the loss of that mind, which indeed could never be had: never ceasing humbleness and diligence, till he had embarked us in some such disadvantage, as we could not return dry-shod; and then suddenly a tyrant, but a crastie tyrant. For so would he use his imperiousness, that we had a delightful fear, and an awe which made us loathe to loose our hope. And, which is strangest (when sometimes with late repentance I think of it) I must confess, even in the greatest tempest of my judgement was I never driven to think him excellent, and yet so could set my mind, both to get and keep him, as though therein had lain my felicity: like them I have seen play at the ball, grow extremely earnest, who should have the ball, and yet every one knew it was but a ball. But in the end, the bitter sauce of the sport was, that we had either our hearts broken with sorrow, or our estates spoiled with being at his direction, or our honours for ever lost, partly by our own faults, but principally by his faulty using of our faults. For never was there man that could with more scornful eyes behold her, at whose feet he had lately lain, nor with a more unmanlike bravery use his tongue to her disgrace, which lately had song Sonnets of her praises: being so naturally inconstant, as I marvel his soul finds not some way to kill his body, whereto it had been so long united. For so hath he dealt with us (unhappy fools,) as we could never tell, whither he made greater haste after he once liked, to enjoy, or after he once enjoyed, to forsake. But making a glory of his own shame, it delighted him to be challenged of unkindness: it was a triumph unto him to have his mercy called for: and he thought the fresh colours of his beauty were painted in nothing so well, as in the ruins of his Lovers: yet so far had we engaged ourselves, (unfortunate souls) that we listed not complain, since our complaints could not but carry the greatest accusation to ourselves. But every of us (each for herself,) laboured all means how to recover him, while he rather daily sent us companions of our deceit, then ever returned in any sound and faithful manner. Till at length he concluded all his wrongs with betrothing himself to one (I must confess) worthy to be liked, if any worthiness might excuse so unworthy a changeableness; leaving us nothing but remorse for what was past, and despair of what might follow. Than indeed, the common injury made us all join in friendship, who till that time, had employed our endeavours one against the other. For, we thought nothing was a more condemning of us, than the justifying of his love to her by marriage: then Despair made Fear valiant, and Revenge gave Shame countenance: whereupon, we (that you seen here) devised how to get him among us alone: which he (suspecting no such matter of them, whom he had by often abuses he thought made tame to be still abused) easily gave us opportunity to do.  
And a man may see, even in this, how soon Rulers argument key no. 6 grow proud, and in their pride foolish: he come with such an authority among us, as if the Planets had done enough for us, that by us once he had been delighted. And when we began in courteous manner, one after the other, to lay his unkindness unto him, he seeing himself confronted by so many (like a resolute Orator,) went not to denial, but to justify his cruel falsehood, and all with such jests, and disdainful passages, that if the injury could not be made greater, yet were our conceits made the apt to apprehend it.  
Among other of his answers (forsooth) I shall never forget, how he would prove it was no inconstancy to change from one Love to an other, but a great constancy; and contrary, that which we call constancy, to be most changeable. For (said he) I ever loved my Delight, & delighted always in what was Lovely: and wheresoev I found occasion to obtain that, I constantly followed it. But these constant fools you speak of, though their Mistress grow by sickness soul, or by fortune miserable, yet still will love her, and so commit the absurdest inconstancy that may be, in changing their love from fairness to foulness, and from loveliness to his contrary; like one not content to leave a friend, but will strength give over himself to his mortal enemy: where I (whom you call inconstant) am ever constant; to Beauty, in others; and Delight in myself. And so in this jolly scoffing bravery he went over us all, saying, He left one, because she was over-waiwarde; another, because she was too soon won; a third, because she was not merry enough; a fourth, because she was over-gamesome; the fifth, because she was grown with grief subject to sickness; the sixt, because she was so foolish, as to be jealous of him; the seventh, because she had refused to carry a letter for him, to another that he loved; the eight, because she was not secret; the ninth, because she was not liberal: but to me, who am named Dido, (and indeed have met with a false AEnoeas) to me, I say, (o the ungrateful villain) he could find no other fault to object, but that (perdie) he met with many fairer.  
argument key no. 7 But when he had thus played the careless Prince, we (having those servants of ours in readiness, whom you lately so manfully overcame) laid hold of him; beginning at first but that trifling revenge, in which you found us busy; but meaning afterwarwardes to have mangled him so, as should have lost his credit for ever abusing more. But as you have made my fellows fly away, so for my part the greatness of his wrong overshadowes in my judgement the greatness of any danger. For was it not enough for him, to have deceived me, & through the deceit abused me, & after the abuse forsaken me, but that he must now, of all the company, & before all the company lay want of beauty to my charge? Many fairer? I trow even in your judgement, Sir, (if your eyes do not beguile me) not many fairer; & I know (whosoever says the contrary) there are not many fairer. And of whom should I receive this reproach, but of him, who hath best cause to know there are not many fairer? And therefore howsoever my fellows pardon his injuries, for my part I will ever remember, & remember to revenge this scorn of all scorns. With that she to him afresh; & surely would have put out his eyes (who lay mute for shame, if he did not sometimes cry for fear) if I had not leapt from my horse, & mingling force with in treaty, stayed her fury.  
But, while I was persuading her to meekness, comes argument key no. 8 a number of his friends, to whom he forthwith cried, that they should kill that woman, that had thus betrayed and disgraced him. But than I was feign to forsake the ensign; under which I had before served, and to spend my uttermost force in the protecting of the Lady; which so well prevailed for her, that in the end there was a faithful peace promised of all sides. And so I leaving her in a place of security (as she thought) went on my journey towards Anaxius, for whom I was feign to stay two days in the appointed place, he disdaining to wait for me, till he was sure I were there.   

CHAP. 19  
¹ The monomachy between Anaxius and Pyrocles; ² adjourned by Pyrocles to resuccour Dido. ³ The course of Dido's danger. ⁴ The miserableness of her father. ⁵ His carlish entertainment to Pyrocles; ⁶ and his treason against him. ⁷ Pyrocles hard bestead. ⁸ Succoured by Musidorus: ⁹ both saved by the King of Iberia. ¹⁰ The execution of the traitors, and death of Dido.  
argument key no. 1 I Did patiently abide his angry pleasure, till about that space of time he come (indeed, according to promise') alone: and (that I may not say too little, because he is wont to say too much) like a man, whose courage was apt to climb over any danger. And assoon as ever he come near me, in fit distance for his purpose, he with much fury, (but with fury skilfully guided) ran upon me; which I (in the best sort I could) resisted, having kept myself ready for him, because I had understood, that he observed but few compliments in matters of arms, but such as a proud anger did in dite unto him. And so putting our horses into a full career, we hit each other upon the head with our Lances: I think he felt my blow; for my part (I must confess) I never received the like: but I think though my senses were astonished, my mind forced them to quicken themselves, because I had learned of him, how little favour he is wont to show in any matter of advantage. And indeed he was turned, and coming upon me with his sword drawn, both our staves having been broken at that encounter. But I was so ready to answer him, that truly I know not who gave the first blow. But whosoever gave the first, it was quickly seconded by the second. And indeed (excellentest Lady) I must say truly, for a time it was well fought between us; he undoubtedly being of singular valour, (I would to God, it were not abased by his too much loftiness) but as by the occasion of the combat, winning and losing ground, we changed places, his horse happened to come upon the point of the broken spear, which fallen to the ground chanced to stand upward; so as it lighting upon his heart, the horse died. He driven to dismount, threatened, if I did not the like, to do as much for my horse, as Fortune had done for his. But whither for that, or because I would not be beholding to Fortune for any part of the victory, I descended.  
So began our foote-fight in such sort, that we were argument key no. 2 well entered to blood of both sides, when there comes by, that unconstant Pamphilus, whom I had delivered (easy to be known, for he was bore faced) with a dozen armed men after him; but before him he had Dido (that Lady, who had most sharply punished him) riding upon a palfrey, he following her with most unmanlike cruelty; beating her with wands he had in his hand, she crying for sense of pain, or hope of succour: which was so pitiful a sight unto me, that it moved me to require Anaxius to defer our combat, till an other day, and now to perform the duties of Knighthood in helping this distressed Lady. But he that disdains to obey any thing but his passion (which he calls his mind) bade me leave of that thought; but when he had killed me, he would then (perhaps) go to her succour. But I well finding the fight would be long between us (longing in my heart to deliver the Poor Dido) giving him so great a blow, as somewhat stayed him, (to term it a right) I flatly ran away from him toward my horse, who trotting after the company, in my armour I was put to some pain, but that use made me nimble unto it. But as I followed my horse, Anaxius followed me: but his proud heart did so disdain that exercise, that I had quickly overrun him, & overtaken my horse; being (I must confess) ashamed to see a number of country folks, who happened to pass thereby, who hallowed & howted after me as at the arrantest coward, that ever showed his shoulders to his enemy. But when I had leapt on my horse (with such speedy agility, that they all cried, OH see how fear gives him wings) I turned to Anaxius, & aloud promised him to return thither again, as soon as I had relieved the injuried Lady. But he railing at me, with all the base words angry contempt could indite; I said no more, but, Anaxius, assure thyself, I neither fear thy force, nor thy opinion. And so using no weapon of a Knight as at that time, but my spurs, I ran in my knowledge after Pamphilus, but in all their conceits from Anaxius, which as far as I could hear, I might well hear testified with such laughters and games, that I was some few times moved to turn back again.  
argument key no. 3 But the Lady's misery over-balanced my reputation so that after her I went, & with six hours hard riding (through so wild places, as it was rather the cunning of my horse sometimes, then of myself, so rightly to hit the way) I overgat them a little before night, near to an old ill-favoured castle, the place where I perceived they meant to perform their unknightly errand. For there they began to strip her of her clotheses, when I come in among them, & running through the first with a lance, the justness of the cause so enhabled me against the rest (falsharted in their own wrong doing) that I had, in as short time almost as I had been fight with only Anaxius, delivered her from those injurious wretches: most of whom carried news to the other world, that amongst men secret wrongs are not always left unpunished. As for Pamphilus, he having once seen, & (as it should seem) remembered me, even from the beginning began to be in the rearward, and before they had left fight, he was too far of to give them thanks for their pains. But when I had delivered to the Lady a full liberty, both in effect, & in opinion, (for some time it was before she could assure herself she was out of their hands, who had laid so vehement apprehension of death upon her) she then told me, how as she was returning toward her fathers, weakly accompanied (as too soon trusting to the falsehood of reconcilement) Pamphilus had set upon her, and kill those that were with her, carried herself by such force, and with such manner as I had seen, to this place, where he meant in cruel and shameful manner to kill her, in the sight of her own Father; to whom he had already sent word of it, that out of his castle window (for this castle, she said, was his) he might have the prospect of his only child's destruction, if my coming, whom (she said) he feared (as soon as he knew me by the armour) had not warranted her from that near approaching cruelty. I was glad I had done so good a deed for a Gentlewoman not unhandsome, whom before I had in like sort helped. But the night beginning to persuade some retiring place, the Gentlewoman, even out of countenance before she began her speech, much after this manner invited me to lodge that night with her father.  
argument key no. 4 Sir (said she) how much I own you, can be but abased by words, since the life I have, I hold it now the second time of you: and therefore need not offer service unto you, but only to remember you, that I am your servant: and I would, my being so, might any way yield any small contentment unto you. Now only I can but desire you to harbour yourself this night in this castle; because the time requires it; and in truth this country is very dangerous for murdering thieves, to trust a sleeping life among them. And yet I must confess, that as the love I bear you makes me thus invite you, so the same love makes me ashamed to bring you to a place, where you shallbe so (not spoken by ceremony but by truth) miserably entertained. With that she told me, that though she spoke of her father (whom she named Chremes) she would hide no truth from me, which was in sum, that as he was of all that region the man of greatest possessions, and riches, so was he either by nature, or an evil received opinion, given to sparing, in so unmeasurable a sort, that he did not only bar himself from the delightful, but almost from the necessary use thereof; scarcely allowing himself fit sustenance of life, rather than he would spend of those goods, for whose sake only he seemed to joy in life. Which extreme dealing (descending from himself upon her) had driven her to put herself with a great Lady of that country, by which occasion she had stumbled upon such mischance, as were little for the honour either of her, or her family. But so wise had he showed himself therein, as while he found his daughter maintained without his cost, he was content to be deaf to any noise of infamy: which though it had wronged her much more than she deserved, yet she could not deny, but she was driven thereby to receive more than decent favours. She concluded, that there at left I should be free from injuries, & should be assured to her-wards to abound as much in the true causes of welcomes, as I should want of the effects thereof.  
I, who had acquainted myself to measure the delicacy argument key no. 5 of food and rest, by hunger and weariness, at that time well stored of both, did not abide long entreaty; but went with her to the Castle: which I found of good strength, having a great more round about it; the work of a noble Gentleman, of whose unthrifty son he had bought it. The bridge drawn up, where we were feign to cry a good while before we could have answer, and to dispute a good while before answer would be brought to acceptance. At length a willingness, rather than a joy to receive his daughter, whom he had lately seen so near death, and an opinion rather brought into his head by course, because he heard himself called a father; rather than any kindness that he found in his own heart, made him take us in; for my part by that time grown so weary of such entertainment, that no regard of myself, but only the importunity of his daughter made me enter. Where I was met with this Chremes, a drivelling old fellow, lean, shaking both of head and hands, already half earth, and yet then most greedy of Earth: who scarcely would give me thanks for that I had done, for fear I suppose, that thankfulness might have an introduction of reward. But with a hollow voice, giving me a false welcome, I might perceive in his eye to his daughter, that it was hard to say, whither the displeasure of her company did not over-way the pleasure of her own coming. But on he brought me, into so bore a house, that it was the picture of miserable happiness, and rich beggary (served only by a company of rustical villains, full of sweat and dust, not one of them other, than a labourer) in sum (as he counted it) profitable drudgery: and all preparations both for food and lodging such, as would make one detest niggardness, it is so sluttish a vice. His talk nothing but of his poverty, for fear belike jest I should have proved a young borrower. In sum, such a man, as any enemy could not wish him worse, then to be himself. But there that night bid I the burden of being a tedious guest to a loathsome host; overhearing him sometimes bitterly warn his daughter of bringing such costly mates under his roof: which she grieving at, desired much to know my name, I think partly of kindness to remember who had done something for her, and partly because she assured herself I was such a one as would make even his miser-minde contented, with what he had done. And accordingly she demanded my name, and estate, with such earnestness, that I whom Love had not as then so rob me of myself, as to be another than I am, told her directly my name and condition: whereof she was no more glad than her father, as I might well perceive by some ill-favoured cheerfulness, which then first began to wrinkle itself in his face.  
But the causes of their joys were far different; for argument key no. 6 as the shepherd and the butcher both may look upon one sheep with pleasing conceits, but the shepherd with mind to profit himself by preserving, the butcher with kill him: So she rejoiced to find that my own benefits had tied me to be her friend, who was a Prince of such greatness, and lovingly rejoiced: but his joy grew, (as I to my danger after perceived) by the occasion of the Queen Artaxias setting my head to sale, for having slain her brother Tiridates; which being the sum of an hundredth thousand crowns (to whosoever brought me alive into her hands) that old wretch, (who had overlived all good nature) though he had lying idly by him much more then that, yet above all things loving money, for moneys own sake determined to betray me, so well deserving of him, for to have that which he was determined never to use. And so knowing that the next morning I was resolved to go to the place where I had left Anaxius, he sent in all speed to a Captain of a Garrison hard by; which though it belonged to the King of Iberia, (yet knowing the captains humour to delight so in riotous spending; as he cared not how he come by the means to maintain it) doubted not, that to be half with him in the gain, he would play his quarters part in the treason. And therefore that night agreeing of the fittest places where they might surprise me in the morning, the old caitiff was grown so ceremonious, as he would needs accompany me some miles in my way; a sufficient token to me, if Nature had made me apt to suspect; since a churls courtesy rathely comes but either for gain, or falsehood. But I suffered him to stumble into that point of good manner: to which purpose he come out with all his clowns, horsed upon such cart-iades, and so furnished, as in good faith I thought with myself, if that were thirst, I wished noon of my friends or subjects ever to thrive. As for his daughter (the gentle Dido) she would also (but in my conscience with a far better mind) prolong the time of farewell, as long as he.  
argument key no. 7 So we went on together: he so old in wickedness, that he could look me in the face, and freely talk with me, whose life he had already contracted for: till coming into the falling of a way which led us into a place, of each-side whereof men might easily keep themselves undiscovered, I was encompassed so dainly by a great troop of enemies, both of horse and foot, who willed me to yield myself to the Queen Artaxia. But they could not have used worse eloquence to have persuaded my yielding, than that; I knowing the little good will Artaxia bore me. And therefore making necessity and justice my bestsword and shield, I used the other weapons I had as well as I could; I am sure to the little case of a good number, who trusting to their number more than to their valour, and valueing money higher than equity, felt, that guiltlessness is not always with ease oppressed. As for Chremes, he withdrew himself, yet so guilding his wicked conceits with his hope of gain, that he was content to be a beholder, how I should be taken to make his prey.  
But I was grown so weary, that I supported my argument key no. 8 self more with anger then strength, when the most excellent Musidorus come to my succour; who having followed my trace as well as he could, after he had found I had left the fight with Anaxius, come to the niggards Castle, where he found all burnt and spoiled by the country people, who bore mortal hatred to that covetous man, and now took the time, when the castle was left almost without guard, to come in, and leave monuments of their malice therein: which Mustdorus not staying either to further, or impeach, come upon the spur after me (because with one voice many told him, that if I were in his company, it was for no good meant unto me) and in this extremity found me. But when I seen that cozen of my, me thought my life was doubled, and where before I thought of a noble death, I now thought of a noble victory. For who can fear that hath Musidorus by him? who, what he did there for me, how many he killed, not stranger for the number, then for the strange blows wherewith he sent them to a wel-deserued death, might well delight me to speak off, but I should so hold you too long in every particular. But in truth, there if ever, and ever, if ever any man, did Musidorus show himself second to noon in able valour.  
Yet what the unmeasurable excess of their number argument key no. 9 would have done in the end I know not, but the trial thereof was cut off by the chanceable coming thither of the King of Iberia, that same father of that worthy Plangus, whom it hath pleased you sometimes to mention: who, (not yielding over to old age his country delights, especially of hawking) was at that time (following a Merline) brought to see this injury offered unto us: and having great numbers of Courtiers waiting upon him, was strait known by the soldiers that assaulted us, to be their King, and so most of them withdrew themselves.  
argument key no. 10 He by his authority knowing of the Captains own constrained confession, what was the motive of this mischievous practice; misliking much such violence should be offered in his country to men of our rank: but chiefly disdaining it should be done in respect of his Niece, whom (I must confess wrongfully) he hated, because he interpreted that her brother and she had maintained his son Plangus against him, caused the captains head presently to be stricken off, and the old bad Chremes to be hanged: though truly for my part, I earnestly laboured for his life, because I had eaten of his bread. But one thing was notable for a conclusion of his miserable life, that neither the death of his daughter, who (alas the poor Gentlewoman) was by chance slain among his clowns, while she over-boldly for her weak sex sought to hold them from me, nor yet his own shameful end was so much in his mouth as he was led to execution, as the loss of his goods, and burning of his house: which often, with more laughter than tears of the hearers, he made pitiful exclamations upon.   

CHAP. 20.  
¹ The two Princes passage to the Iberian Court. ² Andromanas omniregencie. ³ Her parti-love to them both. ⁴ Her fair and soul means to inveigle them. ⁵ Palladius love to Zelmane. ⁶ Zelmane's love to Pyrocles, and practise with her Lover to release her beloved.  
THis justice thus done, and we delivered, argument key no. 1 the King indeed in royal sort invited us to his Court, not far thence: in all points entertaining us so, as truly I must ever acknowledge a beholdingness unto him: although the stream of it fell out not to be so sweet as the spring. For after some days being there (curing ourselves of such wounds as we had received, while I, causing diligent search to be made of Anaxius, could learn nothing, but that he was go out of the country, boasting in every place, how he had made me run away) we were brought to receive the favour of acquaintance with this Queen Andromana, whom the Princess Pamela did in so lively colours describe the last day, as still me thinks the figure thereof possesseth my eyes, confirmed by the knowledge myself had.  
And therefore I shall need the less to make you argument key no. 2 know what kind of woman she was; but this only, that first with the rareness of affection, and after with the very use of directing, she had made herself so absolute a master of her husband's mind, that awhile he would not, and after, he could not tell how to govem, without being governed by her: but finding an ease in not understanding, let lose his thoughts wholly to pleasure, entrusting to her the entire conduct of all his royal affairs. A thing that may luckily fall out to him that hath the blessing, to match with some Heroical minded Lady. But in him it was neither guided by wisdom, nor followed by Fortune, but thereby was slipte insensiblie into such an estate, that he lived at her undiscreet discretion: all his subjects having by some years learned, so to hope for good, and fear of harm, only from her, that it should have needed a stronger virtue them his, to have unwound so deeply an entered vice. So that either not striving (because he was contented) or contented (because he would not strive) he scarcely knew what was done in his own chamber, but as it pleased her Instruments to frame the relation.  
argument key no. 3 Now we being brought known unto her (the time that we spent in curing some very dangerous wounds) after once we were acquainted, (and acquainted we were sooner than ourselves expected) she continually almost haunted us, till (and it was not long a doing) we discovered a most violent bent of affection: and that so strangely, that we might well see, an evil mind in authority, doth not only follow the sway of the desires already within it, but frames to itself new desires, not before thought of. For, with equal ardour she affected us both: and so did her greatness disdain shamefastness, that she was content to acknowledge it to both. For, (having many times torn the vail of modesty) it seemed, for a last delight, that she delighted in infamy: which often she had used to her husband's shame, filling all men's ears (but his) with reproach; while he (hoodwinked with kindness) jest of all men knew who struck him. But her first degree was, by setting forth her beauties, (truly in nature not to be misliked, but as much advanced to the eye, as abased to the judgement by art) thereby to bring us (as willingly-caught fishes) to bite at her bait. And there to had she that scutcheon of her desires supported by certain badly-diligent ministers, who often cloyed our ears with her praises, & would needs teach us a way of felicity by seeking her favour. But when she found, that we were as deaf to them, as dumb to her; then she lifted no longer stay in the suburbs of her foolish desires, but directly entered upon them; making herslef an impudent suitor, authorizing herself very much with making us see that all favour & power in that realm, so depended upon her, that now (being in her hands) we were either to keep, or loose our liberty, at her discretion; which yet she so tempered, as that we might rather suspect, than she threaten. But when our wounds grew so, as that they gave us leave to travel, & that she found we were purposed to use all means we could to departed thence, she (with more & more importunatnes) craved that, which in all good manners was either of us to be desired, or not granted. Truly (most fair & every way excellent Lady) you would have wondered to have seen, how before us she would confess the contention in her own mind, between that lovely (indeed most lovely) brounnes of Musidorus his face, & this colour of my, which she (in the deceivable style of affection) would entitle beautiful: how her eyes wandered (like a glutton at a feast) from the one to the other; and how her words would begin half of the sentence to Musidorus, & end the other half to Pyrocles: not ashamed (seeing the friendship between us) to desire either of us to be a mediator to the other; as if we should have played a request at Tennis between us: and often wishing, that she might be the angle, where the lines of our friendship might meet; and be the knot which might tie our hearts together. Which proceeding of hers I do the more largely set before you (most dear Lady) that by the foil thereof, you may see the nobleness of my desire to you, & the warrantableness of your favour to me.  
argument key no. 4 At that Philoclea smiled, with a little nod. But (said Pyrocles) when she perceived no hope by svite to prevail, than (persuaded by the rage of affection, and encouraged by daring to do any thing) she found means to have us accused to the King, as though we went about some practice to overthrow him in his own estate. Which, because of the strange successes we had in the kingdoms of Phrigia, Pontus & Galatia) seemed not unlikely to him, who (but skimming any thing that come before him) was disciplined to leave the through-handling of all, to his gentle wife: who forth with caused us to be put in prison, having (while we slept) deprived us of our armour: a prison, indeed injurious, because a prison, but else well testifying affection, because in all respects as commodious, as a prison might be: and indeed so placed, as she might at all hours, (not seen by many, though she cared not much how many had seen her) come unto us. Than fell she to sauce her desires with threatenings, so that we were in a great perplexity, restrained to so unworthy a bondage, and yet restrained by Love, which (I cannot tell how) in noble minds, by a certain duty, claims an answering. And how much that love might move us, so much, and more that faultiness of her mind removed us; her beauty being balanced by her shamelessness. But that which did (as it were) tie us in captivity, was, that to grant, had been wickedly injurious to him, that saved our lives: and to accuse a Lady that loved us, of her love unto us, we esteemed almost as dishonourable: & but by one of those ways we saw no likelihood of going out of that place, where the words would be injurious to your ears, which should express the manner of her svite: while yet many times earnestness died her cheeks with the colour of shamefastness; and wanton languishing borrowed of her eyes the downcast look of modesty. But we in the mean time far from loving her, and often assuring her, that we would not so recompense her husbands saving of our lives; to such a ridiculous degree of trusting her, she had brought him, that she caused him send us word, that upon our lives, we should do whatsoever she commanded us: good man, not knowing any other, but that all her pleasures bend to the preservation of his estate. But when that made us rather pity, then obey his folly, then fell she to servile entreating us, as though force could have been the school of Love, or that an honest courage would not rather strive against, then yield to injury. All which yet could not make us accuse her, though it made us almost pine away for spite, to lose any of our time in so troublesome an idleness.  
But while we were thus full of weariness of what argument key no. 5 was past, and doubt of what was to follow, Love (that I think in the course of my life hath a sport sometimes to poison me with roses, sometimes to heal me with wormwood) brought forth a remedy unto us: which though it helped me out of that distress, alas the conclusion was such, as I must ever while I live, think it worse than a wrack, so to have been preserved. This King by this Queen had a son of tender age, but of great expectation, brought up in the hope of themselves, & already acceptation of the inconstant people, as successor of his father's crown: whereof he was as worthy, considering his parts, as unworthy, in respect of the wrong was thereby done against the most worthy Plangus: whose great deserts now either forgotten, or ungratefully remembered, all men set their sails with the favourable wind, which blewe on the fortune of this young Prince, perchance not in their hearts, but surely not in their mouths, now giving Plangus (who some years before was their only champion) the poor comfort of calamity, pity. This youth therefore accounted Prince of that region, by name Palladius, did with vehement affection love a young Lady, brought up in his father's court, called Zelmane, daughter to that mischievously unhappy Prince Plexirtus (of whom already I have, and sometimes must make, but never honourable mention) left there by her father, because of the intricate changeableness of his estate; he by the motherside being half brother to this Queen Andromana, and therefore the willinger committing her to her care. But as Love (alas) doth not always reflect itself, so fell it out that this Zelmane, (though truly reason there was enough to love Palladius) yet could not ever persuade her heart to yield thereunto: with that pain to Palladius, as they feel, that feel an unloved love. Yet loving indeed, and therefore constant, he used still the intercession of diligence and faith, ever hoping, because he would not put himself into that hell, to be hopeless: until the time of our being come, and captived there, brought forth this end, which truly deserves of me a further degree of sorrow then tears.  
Such was therein my ill destiny, that this young argument key no. 6 Lady Zelmane (like some unwisely liberal, that more delight to give presents, then pay debts) she chose (alas for the pity) rather to bestow her love (so much undeserved, as not desired) upon me, then to recompense him, whose love (besides many other things) might seem (even in the court of Honour) justly to claim it of her. But so it was (alas that so it was) whereby it come to pass, that (as nothing doth more naturally follow his cause, than care to preserve, and benefit doth follow unfeigned affection) she felt with me, what I felt of my captivity, and strength laboured to redress my pain, which was her pain: which she could do by no better means, then by using the help therein of Palladius: who (true Lover) considering what, and not why, in all her commandments; and indeed she concealing from him her affection (which she entitled compassion,) immediately obeyed to employ his uttermost credit to relieve us: which though as great, as a beloved son with a mother, faulty otherwise, but not hard-hearted toward him, yet it could not prevail to procure us liberty. Wherhfore he sought to have that by practice, which he could not by prayer. And so being allowed often to visit us (for indeed our restraints were more, or less, according as the ague of her passion was either in the fit, or intermission) he used the opportunity of a fit time thus to deliver us.   

CHAP. 21.  
¹ The cause of the Iberian yearly jousts. ² Queen Helen's praises. ³ The prize borne by her Knights, which Palladius and the Princes set them to reverse. ⁴ The inventions and actions of seven tilters. ⁵ Palladius and the Prince's entry into the field, honour in it, and flight from it. ⁶ Andromanas pursuit of them ⁷ to the death of her son ⁸ and herself.  
argument key no. 1 THe time of the maryinge that Queen was every year, by the extreme love of her husband, & the serviceable love of the Courtiers, made notable by some public honours, which indeed (as it were) proclaimed to the world, how dear she was to the people. Among other, noon was either more grateful to the beholders, or more noble in itself, than justs, both with sword and lance, maintained for a seven-night together: wherein that Nation doth so excel, both for comeliness and ableness, that from neighbour-countries they ordinarily come, some to strive, some to learn, and some to behold.  
argument key no. 2 This day it happened that divers famous Knights come thither from the court of Helen, Queen of Corinth; a Lady, whom Fame at that time was so desirous to honour, that she borrowed all men's mouths to join with the sound of her Trumpet. For as her beauty hath won the prize from all women, that stand in degree of comparison (for as for the two sisters of Arcadia, they are far beyond all conceit of comparison) so hath her government been such, as hath been no less beautiful to men's judgements, than her beauty to the eyesight. For being brought by right of birth, a woman, a young woman, a fair woman, to govern a people, in nature mutinously proud, and always before so used to hard governors, as they knew not how to obey without the sword were drawn. Yet could she for some years, so carry herself among them, that they found cause in the delicacy of her sex, of admiration, not of contempt: & which was notable, even in the time that many countries were full of wars (which for old grudges to Corinth were thought still would conclude there) yet so handled she the matter, that the threatens ever smarted in the threatners; she using so strange, and yet so well-succeeding a temper, that she made her people by peace, warlike; her courtiers by sports, learned; her Ladies by Love, chaste. For by continual martial exercises without blood, she made them perfect in that bloody art. Her sports were such as carried riches of Knowledge upon the stream of Delight: & such the behaviour both of herself, and her Ladies, as builded their chastity, not upon waywardness, but by choice of worthiness: So as it seemed, that court to have been the marriage place of Love and Virtue, & that herself was a Diana appareled in the garments of Venus. And this which Fame only delivered unto me, (for yet I have never seen her) I am the willinger to speak of to you, who (I know) know her better, being your near neighbour, because you may see by her example (in herself wise, and of others beloved) that neither folly is the cause of vehement Love, nor reproach the effect, For never (I think) was there any woman, that with more unremovable determination gave herself to the council of Love, after she had once set before her mind the worthiness of your cousin Amphialus; & yet is neither her wisdom doubted of, nor honour blemished. For (OH God) what doth better become wisdom, then to discern, what is worthy the loving? what more agreeable to goodness, then to love it so discerned? and what to greatness of heart, then to be constant in it once loved? But at that time, that Love of hers was not so publicly known, as the death of Philoxenus, and her search of Amphialus hath made it: but then seemed to have such leisure to send thither diverse choice Knights of her court, because they might bring her, at least the knowledge, perchance the honour, of that Triumph.  
argument key no. 3 Wherein so they behaved themselves as for three days they carried the prize; which being come from so far a place to disgrace her servants, Palladius (who himself had never used arms) persuaded the Queen Andromana to be content (for the honour sake of her court) to suffer us two to have our horse and armour, that he with us might undertake the recovery of their lost honour: which she granted; taking our oath to go no further than her son, and never to abandon him. Which she did not more for saving him, then keeping us: and yet not satisfied with our oath, appointed a band of horsemen to have eye, that we should not go beyond appointed limits. We were willing to gratify the young Prince, who (we seen) loved us. And so the fourth day of that exercise, we come into the field: where (I remember) the manner was, that the forenoon they should run at tilt, one after the other: the afternoon in a broad field, in manner of a battle, till either the strangers, or that country Knights won the field.  
The first that ran was a brave Knight, whose devise argument key no. 4 was to come in, all chained with a Nymph leading him: his Impresa was 〈…〉  
Against him come forth an Iberian whose manner of entering was, with bagpipes in steed of trumpets; a shepherds boy before him for a Page, and by him a dozen appareled like shepherds for the fashion, though rich in stuff, who carried his lances, which though strong to give a launcely blow indeed, yet so were they coloured with hooks near the mourn, that they prettily represented shephooks. His own furniture was dressed over with wool, so enriched with jewels artificially placed, that one would have thought it a marriage between the lowest and the highest. His Impresa was a sheep marked with pitch, with this word Spotted to be known. And because I may tell you out his conceit (though that were not done, till the running for that time was ended) before the Ladies departed from the windows, among them there was one (they say) that was the Star, whereby his course was only directed. The shepherds attending upon PHILISIDES went among them, & fang an eclogue; one of them answering another, while the other shepherds pulling out recorders (which possessed the place of pipes) accorded their music to the others voice. The Eclogue had great praise: I only remember six verses, while having questioned one with the other, of their fellow-shepheards so deign growing a man of arms, and the cause of his so doing, they thus said.  

ME thought some staves he missed: if so, not much amiss:  
For where he most would hit, he ever yet did miss.  
One said he broke across; full well it so might be:  
For never was there man more crossly crossed than he.  
But most cried, OH well broke: OH fool full gaily blest:  
Where failing is a shame, and breaking is his best.   
Thus I have digressed, because his manner liked me well: But when he began to run against LElius, it had near grown (though great love had ever been betwixt them) to a quarrel. For Philisides breaking his staves with great commendation, Lelius (who was known to be second to noon in the perfection of that Art) ran ever over his head, but so finely to the skilful eyes, that one might well see, he showed more knowledge in missing, than others did in hitting. For with so gallanta grace his staff come swimming close over the crest of the Helmet, as if he would represent the kiss, and not the stroke of Mars. But Philisides was much moved with it, while he thought Lelius would show a contempt of his youth: till Lelius (who therefore would satisfy him, because he was his friend) made him know, that to such bondage he was for so many courses tied by her, whose disgraces to him were graced by her excellency, and whose injuries he could never otherwise return, than honours.  
But so by Lelius willing-missing was the odds of the Iberian side, and continued so in the next by the excellent running of a Knight, though fostered so by the Muses, as many times the very rustic people left both their delights and profits to hearken to his songs, yet could he so well perform all armed sports, as if he had never had any other pen, than a Lance in his hand. He come in like a wild man; but such a wildness, as showed his eyesight had tamed him, full of withered leaves, which though they fell not, still threatened falling. His Impresa was, a mill-horse still bound to go in one circle; with this word, Data fata secutus. But after him the Corinthian Knights absolutely prevailed, especially a great noble man of Corinth; whose devife was to come without any devise, all in white like a new knight, as indeed he was; but so new, as his newness shamed most of the others long exercise. Than another from whose tent I remember a bird was made fly, with such art to carry a written embassage among the Ladies, that one might say, If a live bird, how so taught? if a dead bird, how so made? Than he, who hidden, man and horse in a great figure lively representing the Phoenix: the fire took so artificially, as it consumed the bird, and left him to rise as it were, out of the ashes thereof. Against whom was the fine frozen Knight, frozen in despair; but his armour so naturally representing Ice, and all his furniture so lively answering thereto, as yet did I never see any thing that pleased me better.  
But the delight of those pleasing sights have carried argument key no. 5 me too far in an unnecessary discourse. Let it then suffice (most excellent Lady) that you know the Corinthians that morning in the exercise (as they had done the days before) had the better; Palladius neither suffering us, nor himself to take in hand that party till the afternoon; when we were to fight in troops, not differing otherwise from earnest, but that the sharpness of the weapons was taken away. But in the trial Palladius (especially led by Musidorus, and somewhat aided by me) himself truly behaving himself nothing like a beginner, brought the honour to rest itself that night of the Iberian side: And the next day, both morning, and afternoon being kept by our party, He (that seen the time fit for that delivery he intended) called unto us to follow him; which we both bound by oath, and willing by goodwil, obeyed: and so the guard not daring to interrupt us (he commanding passage) we went after him upon the spur to a little house in a forest near by: which he thought would be the fittest resting place, till we might go further from his mother's fury, whereat he was no less angry, & ashamed, then desirous to obey Zelmane.  
argument key no. 6 But his mother (as I learned since) understanding by the guard her sons conveying us away (forgetting her greatness, & resining modesty to more quiet thoughts) flew out from her place, and cried to be accompanied, for she herself would follow us. But what she did (being rather with vehemency of passion, than conduct of reason) made her stumble while she ran, & by her own confusion hinder her own desires. For so impatiently she commanded, as a good while no body knew what she commanded; so as we had gotten so far the start, as to be already past the confines of her kingdom before she overtook us: and overtake us she did in the kingdom of Bythinia, not regarding shame, or danger of having entered into another's dominions: but (having with her about a three score horsemen) strength commanded to take us alive, and not to regard her sons threatening therein: which they attempted to do, first by speech, & then by force. But neither liking their eloquence, nor fearing their might, we esteemed few sword in a just defence, able to resist any unjust affaulters. And so Musidorus incredible valour (beating down all lets) made both me, and Palladius, so good way, that we had little to do to overcome weak wrong.  
And now had the victory in effect without blood, argument key no. 7 when Palladius (heated with the fight, and angry with his mother's fault) so pursued our assailers, that one of them (who as I heard since had before our coming been a special minion of Andromanas, and hated us for having dispossessed him of her heart) taking him to be one of us, with a traitorous blow slew his young Prince: who falling down before our eyes, whom he specially had delivered, judge (sweetest Lady) whither anger might not be called justice in such a case: once, so it wrought in us, that many of his subjects bodies we left there dead, to wait on him more faithfully to the other world.  
All this while disdain, strengthened by the fury of argument key no. 8 a furious love, made Andromana stay to the last of the combat: & when she seen us light down, to see what help we might do to the helpless Palladius, she come running madly unto us, than no less threatening, when she had no more power to hurt. But when she perceived it was her only son that lay hurt, and that his hurt was so deadly, as that already his life had lost the use of the reasonable, and almost sensible part; then only did misfortune lay his own ugliness upon his fault, and make her see what she had done, and to what she was come: especially, finding in us rather detestation than pity (considering the loss of that young Prince) and resolution presently to departed, which still she laboured to stay. But deprived of all comfort, with eyes full of death, she ran to her sons dagger, and before we were ware of it (who else could have stayed it) struck herself a mortal wound. But then her love, though not her person, awaked pity in us, and I went to her, while Musidorus laboured about Palladius. But the wound was past the cure of a better surge on then myself, so as I could but receive some few of her dying words; which were cursings of her ill set affection, and wishing unto me many crosses & mischances in my love, whensoever I should love, wherein I fear, and only fear that her prayer is from above granted. But the noise of this fight, & issue thereof being blazed by the country people to some noblemen thereabouts, they come thither, and finding the wrong offered us, let us go on our journey, we having recommended those royal bodies unto them to be conveyed to the King of Iberia. With that Philoclea, seeing the tears stand in his eyes with remembrance of Palladius, but much more of that which thereupon grew, she would needs drink a kiss from those eyes, and he suck another from her lips; whereat she blushed, & yet kissed him again to hide her blushing. Which had almost brought Pyrocles into another discourse, but that she with so sweet a rigour forbade him, that he durst not rebel, though he found it a great war to keep that peace, but was feign to go on his story: for so she absolutely bad him, and he durst not know how to disobey.   

CHAP. 22.  
¹ A new complaint of Pamphilus new change, ² to a graceless courtesan. ³ Zelmane loves, and as a Page serves Pyrocles. ⁴ The two Princes policy to reconcile two warring brothers. ⁵ The unbrotherly brave combat of Tydeus and Telenor. ⁶ Plexirtus his viperine unkindness to the kindest Leonatus. ⁷ His conquest by the two brothers, ⁸ and his dogtrick to destroy them by themselves. ⁹ The regreet of the dying brothers.  
SO (said he) parting from that place argument key no. 1 before the Sun had much abased himself of his greatest height, we saw sitting upon the dry sands (which yielded at that time a very hot reflection) a fair Gentlewoman, whose gesture accused her of much sorrow, & every way showed she cared not what pain she put her body to, since the better part (her mind) was laid under so much agony: and so was she dulled withal, that we could come so near, as to hear her speeches, and yet she not perceive the hearers of her lamentation. But well we might understand her at times, say, Thou dost kill me with thy unkind falsehood: and, It grieves me not to die, but it grieves me that thou art the murderer: neither doth my own pain so much vex me, as thy error. For God knows, it would not trouble me to be slain for thee, but much it torment's me to be slain by thee. Thou art untrue, Pamphilus, thou art untrue, and woe is me therefore. How often didst thou swear unto me, that the Sun should lose his light, and the rocks run up and down like little kids, before thou wouldst falsify thy faith to me? Sun therefore put out thy shining, & rocks run mad for sorrow, for Pamphilus is false. But alas, the Sun keeps his light, though thy faith be darkened; the rocks stand still, though thou change like the weathercock. OH fool that I am, that thought I could grasp water, and bind the wind. I might well have known thee by others, but I would not; & rather wished to learn poison by drinking it myself, while my love helped thy words to deceive me. Well, yet I would thou hadst made a better choice, when thou didst forsake thy unfortunate Leucippe. But it is no matter, Baccha (thy new mistress) will revenge my wrongs. But do not Baccha, let Pamphilus live happy, though I die.  
argument key no. 2 And much more to such like phrase she spoke, but that I (who had occasion to know something of that Pamphilus) stepped to comfort her: & though I could not do that, yet I got thus much knowledge of her, that this being the same Leucippe, to whom the unconstante Pamphilus had betrothed himself, which had moved the other Ladies to such indignation as I told you: neither her worthiness (which in truth was great) nor his own suffering for her (which is wont to endear affection) could fetter his fickleness, but that before his marriage-day appointed, he had taken to wife that Baccha, of whom she complained; one, that in divers places I had heard before blazed, as the most impudently unchaste woman of all Asia; and withal, of such an imperiousness therein, that she would not stick to employ them (whom she made unhappy with her favour) to draw more companions of their folly: in the multitude of whom she did no less glory, than a Captain would do, of being followed by brave soldiers: waiwardly proud; and therefore bold, because extremely faulty: and yet having no good thing to redeem both these, and other unlovely parts, but a little beauty, disgraced with wandering eyes, and unwaied speeches; yet had Pamphilus (for her) left Leucippe, and withal, left his faith: Leucippe, of whom one look (in a clear judgement) would have been more acceptable, than all her kindnesses so prodigally bestowed. For myself, the remembrance of his cruelty to Dido, joined to this, stirred me to seek foam revenge upon him, but that I thought, it should be a gain to him to loose his life, being so matched: and therefore (leaving him to be punished by his own election) we conveyed Leucippe to a house thereby, dedicated to Vestal Nuns, where she resolved to spend all her years (which her youth promised should be many) in bewailing the wrong, and yet praying for the wrong-dooer.  
But the next morning, we (having striven with the argument key no. 3 suns earliness) were scarcely beyond the prospect of the high turrets of that building, when there overtook us a young Gentleman, for so he seemed to us, but indeed (sweet Lady) it was the fair Zelmane, Plexirtus daughter; whom unconsulting affection (unfortunately borne to me-wards) had made borrow so much of her natural modesty, as to leave her more-decent raiments, and taking occasion of Andromanas tumultuous pursuing us, had appareled herself like a Page, with a pitiful cruelty cutting of her golden hair, leaving nothing, but the short curls, to cover that noble head, but that she ware upon it a fair headpiece, a shield at her back, and a lance in her hand, else disarmed. Her apparel of white, wrought upon with broken knots, her horse, fair & lusty, which she rid so, as might show a fearful boldness, daring to do that, which she knew that she knew not how to do: and the sweetness of her countenance did give such a grace to what she did, that it did make handsome the unhansomnes, and make the eye force the mind to believe, that there was a praise in that unskilfulness. But she strait approached me, and with few words (which borrowed the help of her countenance to make themselves understood) she desired me to accept her in my service; telling me, she was a nobleman's son of Iberia, her name Daiphantus, who having seen what I had done in that court, had stolen from her father, to follow me. I inquired the particularities of the manner of Andromanas following me, which by her I understood, she hiding nothing (but her sex) from me. And still me thought I had seen that face, but the great alteration of her fortune, made her far distant from my memory: but liking very well the young Gentleman, (such I took her to be) admitted this Daiphantus about me: who well showed, there is no service like his, that serves because he loves. For, though borne of Prince's blood, brought up with tenderest education, unapt to service (because a woman) & full of thoughts (because in a strange estate;) yet Love enjoined such diligence, that no apprentice, not, no bondslave could ever be by fear more ready at all commandments, than that young Princess was. How often (alas) did her eyes say unto me, that they loved? and yet, I (not looking for such a matter) had not my conceit open, to understand them. How often would she come creeping to me, between gladness to be near me, & fear to offend me? Truly I remember, that then I marveling, to see her receive my commandments with sighs, & yet do them with cheerfulness: sometimes answering me in such riddles, as I then thought childish in experience: but since returning to my remembrance, they have come more near unto my knowledge: & pardon me (only dear Lady) that I use many words: for her affection to me deserves of me an affectionate speech.  
In such sort did she serve me in that kingdom of Bythinia, argument key no. 4 for two months space. In which time we brought to good end, a cruel war long maintained between the King of Bythinia and his brother. For my excellent cousin, and I (dividing ourselves to either side) found means (after some trial we had made of ourselves) to get such credit with them, as we brought them to as great peace between themselves, as love towards us, for having made the peace. Which done, we intended to return through the Kingdom of Galatia, toward Thrace, to ease the care of our father and mother, who (we were sure) first with the shipwreck; and then with the other dangers we daily past, should have little rest in their thoughts, till they seen us.  
But we were not entered into that Kingdom, when by argument key no. 5 the noise of a great sight, we were guided to a pleasant valley, which like one of those Circusses, which in great cities somewhere doth give a pleasant spectacle of running horses; so of either side stretching itself in a narrow length was it hemmed in by woody hills; as if indeed Nature had meant therein to make a place for beholders. And there we beheld one of the cruelest fights between two Knights, that ever hath adorned the martial story. So as I must confess, a while we stood wondering, another while delighted with the rare bravery thereof; till sing such streams of blood, as threatened a drowning of life, we galloped toward them to part them. But we were prevented by a dozen armed Knights, or rather villains, who using this time of their extreme feebleness, all together set upon them. But common danger broke of particular discord, so that (though with a dying weakness) with a lively courage they resisted, and by our help drove away, or slew those murdering attempters: among whom we happed to take alive the principal. But going to disarm those two excellent Knights, we found with no less wonder to us, than astonishment to themselves, that they were the two valiant, and indeed famous Brothers, Tydeus and Telenor; whose adventure (as afterward we made that ungracious wretch confess) had thus fallen out.  
argument key no. 6 After the noble Prince Leonatus had by his father's death succeeded in the kingdom of Galatia, he (forgetting all former injuries) had received that naughty Plexirtus into a strength degree of favour, his goodness being as apt to be deceived, as the others craft was to deceive. Till by plain proof finding, that the ungrateful man went about to poison him, yet would not suffer his kindness to be overcome, not by justice itself: but calling him to him, used words to this purpose. Plexirtus (said he) this wickedness is found by thee. Not good deeds of my have been able to keep it down in thee. All men counsel me to take away thy life, likely to bring forth nothing, but as dangerous, as wicked effects. But I cannot find it in my heart, remembering what fathers son thou art. But since it is the violence of ambition, which perchance pulls thee from thy own judgement, I will see, whither the satisfying that, may quiet the ill working of thy spirits. Not far hence is the great city of Trebisonde; which, with the territory about it, anciently pertained unto this crown, now unjustly possessed, and as unjustly abused by those, who have neither title to hold it, nor virtue to use it. To the conquest of that for thyself I will lend thee force, and give thee my right. Go therefore, and with less unnaturalness glut thy ambition there; and that done, if it be possible, learn virtue.  
Plexirtus, mingling forsworn excuses with falsemeant argument key no. 7 promises, gladly embraced the offer: and hastily sending back for those two Brothers (who at that time were with us succouring the gracious Queen Erona) by their virtue chief (if not only) obtained the conquest of that goodly dominion. Which indeed done by them, gave them such an authority, that though he reigned, they in effect ruled, most men honouring them, because they only deserved honour; and many, thinking therein to please Plexirtus, considering how much he was bound unto them: while they likewise (with a certain sincere boldness of selfe-warranting friendship) accepted all openly and plainly, thinking nothing should ever by Plexirtus be thought too much in them, since all they were, was his.  
But he (who by the rules of his own mind, could construe argument key no. 8 no other end of men's doings, but self seeking) suddenly feared what they could do; and as suddenly suspected, what they would do, and as suddenly hated them, as having both might, and mind to do. But dreading their power, standing so strongly in their own valour, & others affection, he durst not take open way against them: and as hard it was to take a secret, they being so continually followed by the best, & every way ablest of that region: and therefore used this devilish sleight (which I will tell you) not doubting (most wicked man) to turn their own friendship toward him to their own destruction. He, (knowing that they well knew, there was no friendship between him and the new King of Pontus, never since he succoured Leonatus and us, to his overthrow) gave them to understand that of late there had passed secret defiance between them, to meet privately at a place appointed. Which though not so fit a thing for men of their greatness, yet was his honour so engaged, as he could not go back. Yet feigning to found himself weak by some counterfeit infirmity, the day drawing near, he requested each of them to go in his stead; making either of them swear, to keep the matter secret, ever each from other, delivering the self same particularities to both, but that he told Tydeus, the King would meet him in a blue armour; & Telcnor, that it was a black armour: & with wicked subtlety (as if it had been so appointed) caused Tydeus to take a black armour, & Telenor a blue; appointing them ways how to go, so as he knew they should not meet, till they come to the place appointed, where each had promised to keep silence, jest the King should discover it was not Plexirtus: and there in await had he laid these murderers, that who overlived the other, should by them be dispatched: he not daring trust more than those, with that enterprise, and yet thinking them too few, till themselves by themselves were weakened.  
This we learned chief, by the chief of those waybeaters, argument key no. 9 after the death of those worthy brothers, whose love was no less, than their valour: but well we might find much thereof by their pitiful lamentation, when they knew their mismeeting, and seen each other (in despite of the Surgery we could do unto them) striving who should run fastest to the goal of death: each bewailing the other, and more dying in the other, then in himself: cursing their own hands for doing, and their breasts for not sooner suffering: detesting their unfortunately-spent time in having served so ungrateful a Tyrant: and accusing their folly in having believed, he could faithfully love, who did not love faithfulness: wishing us to take heed, how we placed our good will upon any other ground, than proof of virtue: since length of acquaintance, mutual secrecies, nor height of benefits could bind a savage heart; no man being good to other, that is not good in himself. Than (while any hope was) beseeching us to leave the cure of him that besought, and only look to the other. But when they found by themselves, and us, no possibility, they desired to be joined; and so embracing and craving that pardon each of other, which they denied to themselves, they gave us a most sorrowful spectacle of their death; leaving few in the world behind them, their matches in any thing, if they had soon enough known the ground and limits of friendship. But with woeful hearts, we caused those bodies to be conveyed to the next town of Bythinia, where we learning thus much (as I have told you) caused the wicked Historian to conclude his history, with his own well-deserued death.   

CHAP. 23.  
¹ Zelmane's grief for Plexirtus fault. ² Otaves, and his giants war on Pontus. ³ Plexirtus endangered, needs help of the dead brothers. ⁴ Zelmane thought-sicke, unmaskes herself. ⁵ Her dying tears ⁶ and last requests. ⁷ Musidorus to Pontus, Pyrocles hardly parts to save Plexirtus. ⁸ The source and course of his deaths-doome, ⁹ stayed by Pyrocles. ¹⁰ The combat of Pontus well ended. ¹¹ The Asian Princes meeting, to honour the two Greeks'.  
argument key no. 1 But then (I must tell you) I found such woeful countenances in Daiphantus, that I could not but much marvel (finding them continue beyond the first assault of pity) how the cause of strangers (for further I did not conceive) could so deeply pierce. But the truth indeed is, that partly with the shame & sorrow she took of her father's faultiness, partly with the fear, that the hate I conceived against him, would utterly disgrace her in my opinion, whensoever I should know her, so vehemently perplexed her, that her fair colour decayed; and daily, and hastily grew into the very extreme working of sorrowfulness: which often I sought to learn, & help. But she, as fearful as loving, still concealed it; and so decaying still more and more, in the excellency of her fairness, but that whatsoever weakness took away, pity seemed to add: yet still she forced herself to wait on me, with such care and diligence, as might well show had been taught in no other school, but love.  
While we returning again to embark ourselves for argument key no. 2 Greece, understood that the mighty Otaves (brother to Barzanes slain by Musidorus, in the battle of the six Princes) had entered upon the kingdom of Pontus, partly upon the pretences he had to the crown, but principally, because he would revenge upon him (whom he knew we loved) the loss of his brother: thinking (as indeed he had cause) that wheresoever we were, hearing of his extremity, we would come to relieve him; in spite where of he doubted not to prevail, not only upon the confidence of his own virtue and power, but especially because he had in his company two mighty Giants, sons to a couple whom we slew in the same realm: they having been absent at their father's death, and now returned, willingly entered into his service, hating (more than he) both vs, and that King of Pontus. We therefore withal speed went thetherwarde, but by the way this fell out, which whensoever I remember without sorrow, I must forget withal, all humanity.  
Poor Daiphantus fell extreme sick, yet would needs argument key no. 3 conquer the delicacy of her constitution, and force herself to wait on me: till one day going toward Pontus, we met one, who in great haste went seeking for Tydeus & Telenor, whose death as yet was not known unto the messenger; who (being their servant and knowing how dearly they loved Plexirtus) brought them word, how since their departing, Plexirtus was in prent danger of a cruel death, if by the valiantness of one of the best Knights of the world, he were not rescued: we inquired no further of the matter (being glad he should now to his loss find what an unprofitable treason it had been unto him, to dismember himself of two such friends) and so let the messenger part, not sticking to make him know his master's destruction, by the falsehood of Plexirtus.  
argument key no. 4 But the grief of that (finding a body already brought to the last degree of weakness) so overwhelmed the little remnant of the spirits left in Daiphantus, that she fell suddenly into deadly sound; never coming to herself, but that withal she returned to make most pitiful lamentations; most strange unto us, because we were far from guessing the ground thereof. But finding her sickness such, as began to print death in her eyes, we made all hast possible to convey her to the next town: but before we could lay her on a bed, both we, & she might found in herself, that the harbinger of overhasty death, had prepared his lodging in that dainty body, which she undoubtedly feeling, with a weak cheerfulness, showed comfort therein; and then desiring us both to come near her, & that no body else might be present; with pale, and yet (even in paleness) lovely lips, Now or never, and never indeed, but now it is time for me (said she) to speak: and I thank death which gave me leave to discover that, the suppressing whereof perchance hath been the sharpest spur, that hath hasted my race to this end. Know then my Lords, and especially you my Lord and master, Pyrocles, that your page Daiphantus is the unfortunat Zelmane, who for your sake caused my (as unfortunate) lover, and cozen, Palladius, to leave his father's court, and consequently, both him & my Aunt his mother, to lose their lives. For your sake myself have become, of a Princess a Page: and for your sake have put off the apparel of a woman, & (if you judge not more mercifully) modesty. We were amazed at her speech, and then had (as it were) new eyes given us to perceive that which before had been a present stranger to our minds. For indeed, we forthwith knew it to be the face of Zelmane, whom before we had known in the court of Iberia. And sorrow and pity laying her pain upon me, I comforted her the best I could by the tenderness of goodwill, pretending indeed better hope than I had of her recovery.  
But she that had inward ambassadors from the tyrant argument key no. 5 that should shortly oppress her. Not, my dear master (said she) I neither hope nor desire to live. I know you would never have loved me (& with that she wept) nor, alas, had it been reason you should, considering many ways my unworthiness. It sufficeth me that the strange course I have taken, shall to your remembrance, witness my love: and yet this breaking of my heart, before I would discover my pain, will make you (I hope) think I was not altogether unmodest. Think of me so, dear Master, and that thought shall be my life: and with that, languishingly looking upon me; And I pray you (said she) even by these dying eyes of my (which are only sorry to die, because they shall loose your sight) and by these pouled locks of my (which while they were long, were the ornament of my sex, now in their short curls, the testimony of my servitude) and by the service I have done you (which God knows hath been full of love) think of me after my death with kindness, though ye cannot with love. And whensoever ye shall make any other Lady happy with your placed affection, if you tell her my folly, I pray you speak of it, not with scorn, but with pity. I assure you (dear Princess of my life, for how could it be otherwise?) her words and her manners, with the lively consideration of her love, so pierced me, that I, though I had diverse griefs before, yet me thought I never felt till then, how much sorrow enfeebleth all resolution. For I could not choose, but yield to the weakness of abundant weeping; in truth with such grief, that I could willingly at that time have changed lives with her.  
argument key no. 6 But when she seen my tears, OH God (said she) how largely am I recompensed for my losses? why then (said she) I may take boldness to make some requests unto you. I besought her to do, vowing the performance, though my life were the price thereof. She showed great joy: The first (said she) is this, that you will pardon my father the displeasure you have justly conceived against him, and for this once secure, him out of the danger wherein he is: I hope he will amend: and I pray you, whensoever you remember him to be the faulty Plexirtus, remember withal that he is Zelmane's father. The second is, that when you come into Greece, you will take unto yourself this name (though unlucky) of Daiphantus, and vouchsafe to be called by it: for so shall I be sure, you shall have cause to remember me: and let it please your noble cousin to be called Falladius, that I do that right to that poor Prince, that his name may yet live upon the earth in so excellent a person: and so between you, I trust sometimes your unlucky page shall be (perhaps with a sigh) mentioned. Lastly, let me be buried here obscurely, not suffering my friends to know my fortune, till (when you are safely returned to your own country) you 'cause my bones to be conveyed thither, and laid (I beseech you) in some place, where yourself vouchsafe sometimes to resort. Alas, small petitions for such a suitor; which yet she so earnestly craved, that I was feign to swear the accomplishment. And then kissing me, & often desiring me not to condemn her of lightness, in my arms she delivered her pure soul to the purest place: leaving me as full of agony, as kindness, pity, and sorrow could make an honest heart. For I must confess for true, that if my stars had not wholly reserved me for you, there else perhaps I might have loved, & (which had been most strange) begun my love after death: whereof let it be the less marvel, because somewhat she did resemble you: though as far short of your perfection, as herself dying, was of her flourishing: yet something there was, which (when I seen a picture of yours) brought again her figure into my remembrance, and made my heart as apt to receive the wound, as the power of your beauty with unresistible force to pierce.  
But we in woeful (& yet private) manner burying her, argument key no. 7 performed her commandment: & then inquiring of her father's estate, certainly learned that he was presently to be succoured, or by death to pass the need of succour. argument key no. 8 Therefore we determined to divide ourselves; I, according to my vow, to help him, and Musidorus toward the King of Pontus, who stood in no less need then immediate succour, and even ready to departed one from the other, there come a messenger from him, who after some inquiry found us, giving us to understand, that he trusting upon us two, had appointed the combat between him & us, against Otaves, and the two Giants. Now the day was so accorded, as it was impossible for me both to secure Plexirtus, & be there, where my honour was not only gauged so far, but (by the strange working of unjust fortune) I was to leave the standing by Musidorus, whom better than myself I loved, to go save him whom for just causes I hated. But my promise given, & given to Zelmane, & to Zelmane dying, prevailed more with me, than my friendship to Musidorus: though certainly I may affirm, nothing had so great rule in my thoughts, as that. But my promise carried me the easier, because Musidorus himself would not suffer me to break it. And so with heavy minds (more careful each of others success, than of our own) we parted; I toward the place, where I understood Plexirtus was prisoner to an ancient Knight, absolutely governing a goodly Castle, with a large territory about it, whereof he acknowledged no other sovereign, but himself: whose hate to Plexirtus, grew for a kinsman of his, whom he maliciously had murdered, because in the time that he reigned in Galatia, he found him apt to practise for the restoring of his virtuous brother Leonatus. This old Knight, still thirsting for revenge, used (as the way to it) a policy, which this occasion I will tell you, prepared for him. Plexirtus in his youth had married Zelmane's mother, who dying of that only childbirth, he a widower, and not yet a King, haunted the Court of Armenia; where (as he was coming to win favour) he obtained great good liking of Artaxia, which he pursued, till (being called home by his father) he falsely got his father's kingdom; and then neglected his former love: till thrown out of that (by our means) before he was deeply rooted in it, and by and by again placed in Trebisonde, understanding that Artaxia by her brother's death was become Queen of Armenia, he was hotter than ever, in that pursuit, which being understood by this old Knight, he forged such a letter, as might be written from Artaxia, entreating his present (but very privy) repair thither, giving him faithful promise of present marriage: a thing far from her thought, having faithfully, and publicly protested, that she would never marry any, but some such Prince who would give sure proof, that by his means we were destroyed. But he (no more witty to frame, then blind to judge hopes) bit hastily at the bait, and in private manner posted toward her, but by the way he was met by this Knight, far better accompanied, who quickly laid hold of him, & condemned him to death, cruel enough, if any thing may be both cruel and just. For he caused him to be kept in a miserable prison, till a day appointed, at which time he would deliver him to be devoured by a monstrous beast, of most ugly shape, armed like a Rhinoceros, as strong as an Elephant, as fierce as a Lion, as nimble as a Leopard, and as cruel as a Tiger: whom he having kept in a strong place, from the first youth of it, now thought no fit match, than such a beastly monster with a monstrous Tyrant: proclaiming yet withal, that if any so well loved him, as to venture their lives against this beast, for him, if they overcame, he should be saved: not caring how many they were (such confidence he had in the monsters strength) but especially hoping to entrap thereby the great courages of Tydeus and Telenor, whom he no less hated, because they had been principal instruments of the others power.  
argument key no. 9 I dare say, if Zelmane had known what danger I should have passed, she would rather have let her father perish, then me to have bidden that adventure. But my word was past, and truly, the hardness of the enterprise, was not so much a bit, as a spur unto me; knowing well, that the journey of high honour lies not in plain ways. Therefore, going thither, and taking sufficient security, that Plexirtus should be delivered if I were victorious, I undertook the combat: and (to make short, excellent Lady, and not trouble your ears with recounting a terrible matter) so was my weakness blessed from above, that without dangerous wounds I flew that monster, which hundreds durst not attempt: to so great admiration of many (who from a safe place might look on) that there was order given, to have the fight, both by sculpture and picture, celebrated in most parts of Asia. And the old nobleman so well liked me, that he loved me; only bewailing, my virtue had been employed to save a worse monster than I killed: whom yet (according to faith given) he delivered, and accompanied me to the kingdom of Pontus, whither I would needs in all speed go, to see whither it were possible for me (if perchance the day had been delayed) to come to the combat. But that (before I come) had been thus finished.  
argument key no. 10 The virtuous Leonatus' understanding two so good friends of his were to be in that danger, would perforce be one himself: where he did valiantly, and so did the King of Pontus. But the truth is, that both they being sore hurt, the incomparable Musidorus finished the combat by the death of both the Giants, and the taking of Otaves prisoner. To whom as he gave his life, so he got a noble friend: for so he gave his word to be, and he is well known to think himself greater in being subject to that, then in the greatness of his principality.  
But thither (understanding of our being there) argument key no. 11 flocked great multitudes of many great persons, and even of Princes; especially those, whom we had made beholding unto us: as, the Kings of Phrygia, Bythinia, with those two hurt, of Pontus and Galatia, and Otaves the prisoner, by Musidorus set free; and thither come Plexirtus of Trebisonde, and Antiphilus, than King of Lycia; with as many mo great Princes, drawn either by our reputation, or by willingness to acknowledge themselves obliged unto us, for what we had done for the others. So as in those parts of the world, I think, in many hundreds of years, there was not seen so royal an assembly: where nothing was let pass to do us the highest honours, which such persons (who might command both purses and inventions) could perform. All from all sides bringing unto us right royal presents (which we to avoid both unkindness, and importunity, liberally received,) & not content therewith, would needs accept, as from us, their crowns, and acknowledge to hold them of us: with many other excessive honours, which would not suffer the measure of this short leisure to describe unto you.   

CHAP. 24.  
¹ The causes and provisions of the Princes embarking for Arcadia. ² Plexirtus his treason against them disclosed by one, ³ attempted by another of his ministers. ⁴ Sedition and slaughter in the ship about it. ⁵ Their shipwreck by fire. ⁶ Pyrocles fight with the Captain, and escape from sea. ⁷ The amorous concluding the old, and beginning a new story, both broken of by Miso.  
But we quickly weary thereof, hasted to Greece-ward, led thither partly with the desire of our parents, but hastened principally, because I understood that Anaxius with open mouth of defamation had go thither to seek me, and was now come to Peloponnesus where from Court to Court he made enquyrie of me, doing yet himself so noble deeds, as might hap to authorize an ill opinion of me. argument key no. 1 We therefore fuffred but short delays, desiring to take this country in our way, so renowned over the world, that no Prince could pretend height, nor beggar lowness, to bar him from the sound thereof: renowned indeed, not so much for the ancient praises attributed thereunto, as for the having in it Argalus and Amphialus (two knights of such rare prows, as we desired especially to know) and yet by far, not so much for that, as without suffering of comparison for the beauty of you and your sister, which makes all indifferent judges, that speak thereof, accounted this country as a temple of deities. But these causes indeed moving us to come by this land, we embarked ourselves in the next port, whither all those Princes (saving Antiphilus, who returned, as he pretended, not able to tarry long from Erona) conveyed us. And there found we a ship most royally furnished by Plexirtus, who made all things so proper (as well for our defence, as ease) that all the other Princes greatly commended him for it: who (seeming a quite altered man) had nothing but repentance in his eyes, friendship in his gesture, & virtue in his mouth: so that we who had promised the sweet Zelmanc to pardon him, now not only forgave, but began to favour; persuading ourselves with a youthful credulity, that perchance things were not so evil as we took them, & as it were desiring our own memory, that it might be so. But so were we licenced from those Princes, truly not without tears, especially of the virtuous Leonatus, who with the king of Pontus, would have come with us, but that we (in respect of the ones young wife, & both their new settled kingdoms) would not suffer it. Than would they have sent whole fleets to guard us: but we, that desired to pass secretly into Greece, made them leave that motion, when they found that more ships, than one, would be displeasing unto us. But so committing ourselves to the uncertain discretion of the wind, we (then determining as soon as we come to Greece, to take the names of Daiphantus and Palladius, as well for our own promise to Zelmane, as because we desired to come unknown into Greece) left the Asian shore full of Princely persons, who even upon their knees, recommended our safeties to the devotion of their chief desires: among whom noon had been so officious (though I dare affirm, all quite contrary to his unfaithfulness) as Plexirtus.  
argument key no. 2 So having sailed almost two days, looking for nothing but when we might look upon the land, a grave man (whom we had seen of great trust with Plexirtus, and was sent as our principal guide) come unto us, and with a certain kind manner, mixed with shame, and repentance, began to tell us, that he had taken such a love unto us (considering our youth and fame) that though he were a servant, and a servant of such trust about Plexirtus, as that he had committed unto him even those secrets of his heart, which abhorred all other knowledge; yet he rather chose to reveal at this time a most pernicious counsel, then by concealing it bring to ruin those, whom he could not choose but honour. So went he on, and told us, that Plexirtus (in hope thereby to have Artaxia, endued with the great Kingdom of Armenia, to his wife) had given him order, when we were near Greece, to find some opportunity to murder us, bidding him to take us a sleep, because he had seen what we could do waking. Now sirs (said he) I would rather a thousand times lose my life, then have my remembrance (while I lived) poisoned with such a mischief: and therefore if it were only I, that knew herein the King's order, then should my disobedience be a warrant of your safety. But to one more (said he) namely the Captain of the ship, Plexirtus hath opened so much touching the effect of murdering you, though I think, laying the cause rather upon old grudge, than his hope of Artaxia. And myself, (before the consideration of your excellencies had drawn love and pity into mind) imparted it to such, as I thought fittest for such a mischief. Therefore, I wish you to stand upon your guard, assuring you, that what I can do for your safety, you shall see (if it come to the push) by me performed. We thanked him, as the matter indeed deserved, and from that time would no more disarm ourselves, nor the one sleep without his friends eyes waked for him: so that it delayed the going forward of their bad enterprise, while they thought it rather chance, than providence, which made us so behave ourselves.  
But when we come within half a days sailing of argument key no. 3 the shore, soon they seen it was speedily, or not at all to be done. Than (and I remember it was about the first watch in the night) come the Captain and whispered the councillor in the ear: But he (as it should seem) dissuading him from it, the Captain (who had been a pirate from his youth, and often blooded in it) with a loud voice swore, that if Plexirtus bade him, he would not stick to kill God himself. And therewith called his mates, and in the King's name willed them to take us, alive or dead; encouraging them with the spoil of us, which he said, (& indeed was true) would yield many exceeding rich jewels. But the councillor (according to his promise) commanded them they should not commit such a villainy, protesting that he would stand between them and the King's anger therein. Wherewith the Captain enraged: Nay (said he) them we must begin with this traitor himself: and therewith gave him a sore blow upon the head, who honestly did the best he could to revenge himself.  
argument key no. 4 But than we knew it time rather to encounter, then wait for mischief. And so against the Captain we went, who strait was environed with most part of the Soldiers and Mariners. And yet the truth is, there were some, whom either the authority of the councillor, doubt of the King's mind, or liking of us, made draw their swords of our side: so that quickly it grew a most confused fight. For the narrowness of the place, the darkness of the time, and the uncertainty in such a tumult how to know friends from foes, made the rage of sword rather guide, then be guided by their masters. For my cousin and me, truly I think we never performed less in any place, doing no other hurt, than the defence of ourselves, and succouring them who come for it, drove us to: for not discerning perfectly, who were for, or against us, we thought it less evil to spare a foe, then spoil a friend. But from the highest to the lowest part of the ship there was no place left, without cries of murdering, and murdered persons. The Captain I happed a while to fight withal, but was driven to part with him, by hearing the cry of the councillor, who received a mortal wound, mistaken of one of his own side. Some of the wiser would call to parley, & wish peace, but while the words of peace were in their mouths, some of their auditors gave them death for their hire. So that no man almost could conceive hope of living, but being left alive: and therefore every one was willing to make himself room, by dispatching almost any other: so that the great number in the ship was reduced to exceeding few, when of those few the most part weary of those troubles leapt into the boat, which was fast to the ship: but while they that were first, were cutting of the rope that tied it, others come leaping in, so disorderly, that they drowned both the boat, and themselves.  
But while even in that little remnant (like the children argument key no. 5 of Cadmus) we continued still to slay one an other, a fire, which (whither by the desperate malice of some, or intention of separate, or accidentally while all things were cast up and down) it should seem had taken a good while before, but never heeded of us, (who only thought to preserve, or revenge) now violently burst out in many places, and began to master the principal parts of the ship. Than necessity made us see, that, a common enemy sets at one a civil war: for that little all we were (as if we had been waged by one man to quench a fire) strength went to resist that furious enemy by all art and labour: but it was too late, for already it did embrace and devour from the stern, to the waist of the ship: so as labouring in vain, we were driven to get up to the prow of the ship, by the work of nature seeking to preserve life, as long as we could: while truly it was a strange and ugly sight, to see so huge a fire, as it quickly grew to be, in the Sea, and in the night, as if it had come to light us to death. And by and by it had burned off the mast, which all this while had proudly borne the sail (the wind, as might seem, delighted to carry fire and blood in his mouth) but now it fell over board, and the fire growing nearer us, it was not only terrible in respect of what we were to attended, but insupportable through the heat of it.  
So that we were constrained to bide it no longer, argument key no. 6 but disarming and stripping ourselves, and laying ourselves upon such things, as we thought might help our swimming to the land (too far for our own strength to bear us) my cousin and I threw ourselves into the Sea. But I had swam a very little way, when I felt (by reason of a wound I had) that I should not be able to bide the travail, and therefore seeing the mast (whose tackling had been burnt of) float clear from the ship, I swam unto it, and getting on it, I found my own sword, which by chance, when I threw it away (caught by a piece of canvas) had hung to the mast. I was glad, because I loved it well; but gladder, when I seen at the other end, the Captain of the ship, and of all this mischief; who having a long pike, belike had borne himself up with that, till he had set himself upon the mast. But when I perceived him, Villain (said I) dost thou think to overlive so many honest men, whom thy falsehood hath brought to destruction? with that bestriding the mast, I got by little and little towards him, after such a manner as boys are wont (if ever you seen that sport) when they ride the wild mare. And he perceiving my intention, like a fellow that had much more courage than honesty, set himself to resist. But I had in short space gotten within him, and (giving him a sounded blow) sent him to feed fishes. But there myself remained, until by pirates I was taken up, and among them again taken prisoner, and brought into Laconia.  
argument key no. 7 But what (said Philoclea) become of your cousin Musidorus? Lost said Pyrocles. Ah my Pyrocles, said Philoclea, I am glad I have taken you. I perceive you lovers do not always say truly: as though I know not your cousin Dorus, the shepherd? Life of my desires (said Pyrocles) what is my, even to my soul is yours: but the secret of my friend is not my. But if you know so much, than I may truly say, he is lost, since he is no more his own. But I perceive, your noble sister & you are great friends, and well doth it become you so to be. But go forward dear Pyrocles, I long to hear out till your meeting me: for there to me-warde is the best part of your story. Ah sweet Philoclea (said Pyrocles) do you think I can think so precious leisure as this well spent in talking. Are your eyes a fit book (think you) to read a tale upon? Is my love quiet enough to be an historian? Dear Princess, be gracious unto me. And then he feign would have remembered to have forgot himself. But she, with a sweetly disobeying grace, desired that her desire (once for ever) might serve, that no spot might disgrace that love which shortly she hoped should be to the world warrantable. Feign he would not have heard, till she threatened anger. And then the poor lover durst not, because he durst not. Nay I pray thee, dear Pyrocles (said she) let me have my story. Sweet Princess (said he) give my thoughts a little respite: and if it please you, since this time must so be spoiled, yet it shall suffer the less harm, if you vouchsafe to bestow your voice, and let me know, how the good Queen Erona was betrayed into such danger, and why Plangus sought me. For in dcede, I should pity greatly any mischance fallen to that Princess. I will, said Philoclea smiling, so you give me your word, your hands shall be quiet auditors. They shall, said he, because subject. Than began she to speak, but with so pretty and delightful a majesty, when she set her countenance to tell the matter, that Pyrocles could not choose but rebel so far, as to kiss her. She would have pulled her head away, and speak, but while she spoke he kissed, and it seemed he fed upon her words: but she gate away. How will you have your discourse (said she) without you let my lips alone? He yielded and took her hand. On this (said he) will I revenge my wrong: and so began to make much of that hand, when her tale, & his delight were interrupted by Miso: who taking her time, while Basilius back was turned, come unto them: and told Philoclea, she deserved she knew what, for leaving her mother, being evil at case, to keep company with strangers. But Philoclea telling her, that she was there by her father's commandment, she went away muttering, that though her back, and her shoulders, and her neck were broken, yet as long as her tongue would wag, it should do her errand to her mother.   

CHAP. 25.  
¹ Gynoecia's divining dream. ² For passionate jealousy in actions, ³ speech, and ⁴ song described ⁵ Her troubling Philoclea and Zelmane, ⁶ The rebels troubling her. ⁷ Rebels resisted by Zelmane. ⁸ Zelmane assisted by Dorus. ⁹ Dorus and Zelmane's five memorable strokes.  
argument key no. 1 SO went up Miso to Gynoecia, who was at that time miserably vexed with this manner of dream. It seemed unto her to be in a place full of thorns, which so molested her, as she could neither abide standing still, nor tread safely going forward. In this case she thought Zelmane, being upon a fair hill, delightful to the eye, and easy in appearance, called her thither: wither with much anguish being come, Zelmane was vanished, and she found nothing but a dead body like unto her husband, which seeming at the first with a strange smell to infect her, as she was ready likewise within a while to die, the dead body, she thought, took her in his arms, and said, Gynoecia, leave all; for here is thy only rest.  
With that she awaked, crying very loud, Zelmane, Zelmane. argument key no. 2 But remembering herself, and seeing Basilius by, (her guilty conscience more suspecting, then being suspected) she turned her call, and called for Philoclea, Miso forthwith like a valiant shrew, (looking at Basilius, as though she would speak though she died for it) told Gynoecia, that her daughter had been a whole hour together in secret talk with Zelmane: And (says she) for my part I could not be heard (your daughters are brought up in such awe) though I told her of your pleasure sufficiently. Gynoecia, as if she had heard her last doom pronounced against her, with a side-looke and changed countenance, OH my Lord (said she) what mean you to suffer these young folks together Basilius (that aimed nothing at the mark of her suspicion) smilingly took her in his arms, sweet wife (said he) I thank you for your care of your child: but they must be youths of other metal, than Zelmane, that can endanger her. OH but; cried Gynoecia, and therewith she stayed: for then indeed she did suffer a right conflict, betwixt the force of love, and rage of jealousy. Many times was she about to satisfy the spite of her mind, and tell Basilius, how she knew Zelmane to be far otherwise than the outward appearance. But those many times were all put back, by the manifold objections of her vehement love. Feign she would have bard her daughter's hap, but loathe she was to cut off her own hope. But now, as if her life had been set upon a wager of quick rising, as weak as she was, she got up; though Basilius, (with a kindness flowing only from the fountain of unkindness, being in deed desirous to win his daughter as much time as might be) was loathe to suffer it, swearing he saw sickness in her face, and therefore was loathe she should adventure the air.  
argument key no. 3 But the great and wretched Lady Gynoecia, possessed with those devils of Love and jealousy, did rid herself from her tedious husband: and taking no body with her, going toward them; OH jealousy (said she) the frenzy of wise folks, the wellwishing spite, and unkind carefulness, the self-punishment for others faults, and selfe-miserie in others happiness, the cousin of envy, daughter of love, & mother of hate, how couldst thou so quietly get thee a seat in the unquiet heart of Gynoecia, Gynoecia (said she sighing) thought wise, and once virtuous? Alas it is thy breeders power which plants thee there: it is the flaming agony of affection, that works the chilling access of thy fever, in such sort, that nature gives place; the growing of my daughter seems the decay of myself; the blessings of a mother turn to the curses of a competitor; and the fair face of Philoclea, appears more horrible in my sight, than the image of death. Than remembered she this song, which she thought took a right measure of her present mind.  

With two strange fires of equal heat possessed, argument key no. 4  
The one of Love, the other jealousy,  
Both still do work, in neither find I rest:  
For both, alas, their strengths together tie:  
The one aloft doth hold, the other high.  
Love wakes the jealous eye lest thence it moves:  
The jealous eye, the more it looks, it loves.   

These fires increase: in these I daily burn:  
They feed on me, and with my wings do fly:  
My lovely joys to doleful ashes turn:  
Their flames mount up, my powers prostrate lie:  
They live in force, I quite consumed die.  
One wonder yet far passeth my conceit:  
The fuel small: how be the fires so great?   
But her unleasured thoughts ran not over the ten argument key no. 5 first words; but going with a pace, not so much too fast for her body, as flow for her mind, she found them together, who after Misos departure, had left their tale, and determined what to say to Basilius. But full abashed was poor Philoclea, (whose conscience now began to know cause of blushing) for first salutation, receiving an eye from her mother, full of the same disdainful scorn, which Pallas showed to poor Arachne, that durst contend with her for the prize of well weaving: yet did the force of love so much rule her, that though for Zelmane's sake she did detest her, yet for Zelmane's sake she used no harder words to her, then to bid her go home, and accompany her solitary father.  
argument key no. 6 Than began she to display to Zelmane the storehouse of her deadly desires, when so dainly the confused rumour of a mutinous multitude gave just occasion to Zelmane to break of any such conference, (for well she found, they were not friendly voices they heard) and to retire with as much diligence as conveniently they could, towards the lodge. Yet before they could win the lodge by twenty paces, they were overtaken by an unruly sort of clowns, and other rebels, which like a violent flood, were carried, they themselves knew not whither. But assoon as they come within perfect discerning these Ladies, like enraged beasts, without respect of their estates, or pity of their sex, they began to run against them, as right villains, thinking ability to do hurt, to be a great advancement: yet so many as they were, so many almost were their minds, all knit together only in madness. Some cried, Take; some, Kill; some, Save: but even they that cried save, ran for company with them that meant to kill. Every one commanded, noon obeyed, he only seemed chief Captain, that was most rageful.  
argument key no. 7 Zelmane (whose virtuous couragé was ever awake) drew out her sword, which upon those il-armed churls giving as many wounds as blows, & as many deaths almost as wounds (lightning courage, and thundering smart upon them) kept them at a bay, while the two Ladies got themselves into the lodge: out of the which, Basilius (having put on an armour long untried) come to prove his authority among his subjects, or at least, to adventure his life with his dear mistress, to whom he brought a shield, while the Ladies tremblingly attended the issue of this dangerous adventure. But Zelmane mane made them perceive the odds between an Eagle and a Knight, with such a nimble staidness, and such an assured nimbleness, that while one was running back for fear, his fellow had her sword in his guts.  
And by and by was both her heart and help well argument key no. 8 increased by the coming of Dorus, who having been making of hurdles for his master's sheep, heard the horrible cries of this mad multitude; and having strength represented before the eyes of his careful love, the peril wherein the soul of his soul might be, he went to Pamela's lodge, but found her in a cave hard by, with Mopsa and Dam, who at that time would not have opened the entry to his father. And therefore leaving them there (as in a place safe, both for being strong, and unknown) he ran as the noise guided him. But when he seen his friend in such danger among them, anger and contempt (ask no counsel but of courage) made him room among them, with no other weapon but his sheephook, and with that overthrowing one of the villains, took away a two-hand sword from him, and withal, helped him from ever being ashamed of losing it. Than lifting up his brave head, and flashing terror into their faces, he made arms & legs go complain to the earth, how evil their masters had kept them. Yet the multitude still growing, and the very kill wearying them (fearing, left in long fight they should be conquered with conquering) they drew back toward the lodge; but drew back in such sort, that still their terror went forward: like a valiant mastisse, whom when his master pulls back by the tail from the bear (with whom he hath already interchanged a hateful embracement) though his pace be backward, his gesture is forward, his teeth and eyes threatening more in the retiring, than they did in the advancing: so guided they themselves homeward, never stepping step backward, but that they proved themselves masters of the ground where they stepped.  
argument key no. 9 Yet among the rebels there was a dapper fellow, a tailor by occupation, who fetching his courage only from their going back, began to bow his knees, & very fencer-like to draw near to Zelmane. But as he come within her distance, turning his sword very nicely about his crown, Basilius, with a side blow, struck of his nose. He (being a suitor to a seimsters daughter, and therefore not a little grieved for such a disgrace) stooped down, because he had hard, that if it were fresh put to, it would cleave on again. But as his hand was on the ground to bring his nose to his head, Zelmane with a blow, sent his head to his nose. That seen a butcher, a butcherlie chuff indeed (who that day was sworn brother to him in a cup of wine) & lifted up a great leaver, calling Zelmane all the vile names of a butcherly eloquence. But she (letting slip the blow of the leaver) hit him so surely on the side of his face, that she left nothing but the neither jaw, where the tongue still wagged, as willing to say more, if his master's remembrance had served. OH (said a miller that was half drunk) see the luck of a good fellow, and with that word, ran with a pitchfork at Dorus: but the nimbleness of the wine carried his head so fast, that it made it overrun his feet, so that he fell withal, just between the legs of Dorus: who setting his foot on his neck (though he offered two milche kines, and four fat hogs for his life) thrust his sword quite through, from one ear to the other; which took it very unkindly, to feel such news before they heard of them, in stead of hearing, to be put to such feeling. But Dorus (leaving the miller to vomit his soul out in wine and blood) with his two-hand sword struck of another quite by the waste, who the night before had dreamt he was grown a couple, and (interpreting it he should be married) had bragged of his dream that morning among his neighbours. But that blow astonished quite a poor painter, who stood by with a pike in his hands. This painter was to counterfeit the skirmishing between the Centaurs and Lapiths, and had been very desirous to see some notable wounds, to be able the more lively to express them; and this morning (being carried by the stream of this company) the foolish fellow was even delighted to see the effect of blows. But this last, (happening near him) so amazed him, that he stood still, while Dorus (with a turn of his sword) struck of both his hands. And so the painter returned, well skilled in wounds, but with never a hand to perform his skill.   

CHAP. 26.  
¹ Zelmane's confident attempt to appease the mutiny. ² A bone of division cast by her, ³ and caught by them. ⁴ Her pacificatorie oration. ⁵ The acceptation and issue of it.  
In this manner they recovered the lodge, argument key no. 1 and gave the rebels a face of wood of the outside. But they then (though no more furious, yet more courageous when they seen no resister) went about with pickaxe to the wall, and fire to the gate, to get themselves entrance. Than did the two Ladies mix fear with love, especially Philoclea, who ever caught hold of Zelmane, so (by the folly of love) hindering the help which she desired. But Zelmane seeing no way of defence, not time to deliberate (the number of those villains still increasing, and their madness still increasing with their number) thought it only the means to go beyond their expectation with an unused boldness, and with danger to avoid danger: and therefore opened again the gate, and (Dorus and Basilius standing ready for her defence) she issued again among them. The blows she had dealt before (though all in general were hasty) made each of them in particular take breath, before they brought them suddenly over-neere her, so that she had time to get up to the iudgementseate of the Prince, which (according to the guise of that country) was before the gate. There she paused a while, making sign with her hand unto them, & withal, speaking aloud, that she had something to say unto them, that would please them. But she was answered a while with nothing but shouts and cries; and some beginning to throw stones at her, not daring to approach her. But at length, a young farmer (who might do most among the country sort; and was caught in a little affection towards Zelmane) hoping by this kindness to have some good of her, desired them, if they were honest men, to hear the woman speak. Fie fellows, fie, (said he) what will all the maids in our town say, if so many tall men shall be afraid to hear a fair wench? I swear unto you by no little ones, I had rather give my team of oxen, than we should show ourselves so uncivil wights. Besides, I tell you true, I have heard it of old men counted wisdom, to hear much, & say little. His sententious speech so prevailed, that the most part began to listen. Than she, with such efficacy of gracefulness, & such a quiet magnanimity represented in her face in this uttermost peril, as the more the barbarous people looked, the more it fixed their looks upon her, in this forte began unto them.  
It is no small comfort unto me (said she) having to argument key no. 2 speak something unto you for your own behoofs, to found that I have to deal with such a people, who show indeed in themselves the right nature of valour, which as it leaves no violence unattempted, while the choler is nourished with resistance; so when the subject of their wrath, doth of itself unloked-for offer itself into their hands, it makes them at jest take a pause before they determine cruelty. Now then first (before I come to the principal matter) have I to say unto you; that your Prince Basilius himself in person is within this Lodge, & was one of the three, whom a few of you went about to fight withal: (& this she said, not doubting but they knew it well enough; but because she would have them imagine, that the Prince might think that they did not know it) by him am I sent unto you, as from a Prince to his well approved subjects, nay as from a father to beloved children, to know what it is that hath bred just quarrel among you, or who they be that have any way wronged you? what it is with which you are displeased, or of which you are desirous? This he requires: and indeed (for he knows your faithfulness) he commands you presently to set down, & to choose among yourselves some one, who may relate your griefs or demands unto him.  
argument key no. 3 This (being more than they hoped for from their Prince) assuaged well their fury, & many of them consented (especially the young farmer helping on, who meant to make one of the demands that he might have Zelmane for his wife) but when they began to talk of their grieves, never Bees made such a confused humming: the town dwellers demanding putting down of imposts: the country fellows laying out of commons: some would have the Prince keep his Court in one place, some in another. Al cried out to have new councillors: but when they should think of any new, they liked them as well as any other, that they could remember, especially they would have the treasure so looked unto, as that he should never need to take any more subsides. At length they fell to direct contrarieties. For the Artisans, they would have corn & wine set at a lower price, and bound to be kept so still: the plowmen, vine-laborers, & farmers would noon of that. The countrymen demanded that every man might be free in the chief towns: that could not the Burgesses like of. The peasants would have the Gentlemen destroyed, the Citizens (especially such as Cooks, Barbers, & those other that lived most on Gentlemen) would but have them resourmed. And of each side were like divisions, one neighbourhood beginning to found fault with another. But no confusion was greater than of particular men's likings and dislike: one dispraising such a one, whom another praised, & demanding such a one to be punished, whom the other would have exalted. Not less ado was there about choosing him, who should be their spokesman. The finer sort of Burgesses, as merchants Prentices, & Clothworkers, because of their riches, disdaining the base occupations, & they because of their number as much disdaining them: all they scorning the countryman's ignorance, & the countrymen suspecting as much their cunning: So that Zelmanc (finding that their united rage was now grown, not only to a dividing, but to a crossing one of another, & that the mislike grown among themselves did well alloy the heat against her) made tokens again unto them (as though she took great care of their well doing, and were afraid of their falling out) that she would speak unto them. They now grown jealous one of another (the stay having engendered division, & division having manifested their weakness) were willing enough to hear, the most part striving to show themselves willinger than their fellows: which Zelmane (by the acquaintance she had had with such kind of humours) soon perceiving, with an angerles bravery, & an unabashed mildness, in this manner spoke unto them.  
An unused thing it is, & I think not heretofore seen, argument key no. 4 o Arcadians, that a woman should give public counsel to men, a stranger to the country people, & that lastly in such a presence by a private person, the regal throne should be possessed. But the strangeness of your action makes that used for virtue, which your violent necessity imposeth. For certainly, a woman may well speak to such men, who have forgotten all manlike government: a stranger may with reason instruct such subjects, that neglect due points of subjection: and is it marvel this place is entered into by another, since your own Prince (after thirty years government) dare not show his face unto his faithful people? Hear therefore o Arcadians, & be ashamed: against whom hath this rage been stirred? whither have been bend these manful weapons of yours? In this quiet harmless lodge are harboured no Argians your ancient enemies, nor Laconians your now feared neighbours. Here be neither hard landlords, nor biting usurers. Here lodge noon, but such, as either you have great cause to love, or no cause to hate: here being noon, besides your Prince, Princess, and their children, but myself. Is it I then, o Arcadians, against whom your anger is armed? Am I the mark of your vehement quarrel? if it be so, that innocency shall not be a stop for fury; if it be so, that the law of hospitality (so long & holily observed among you) may not defend a stranger fled to your arms for succour: if in fine it be so, that so many valiant men's courages can be inflamed to the mischief of one silly woman; I refuse not to make my life a sacrifice to your wrath. Exercise in me your indignation, so it go no further, I am content to pay the great favours I have received among you, with my life, not ill deserving I present it here unto you, o Arcadians, if that may satisfy you; rather than you (called over the world the wise and quiet Arcadians) should be so vain, as to attempt that alone, which all the rest of your country will abhor; them you should show yourselves so ungrateful, as to forget the fruit of so many years peaceable government; or so unnatural, as not to have with the holy name of your natural Prince, any fury over-maistred. For such a hellish madness (I know) did never enter into your hearts, as to attempt any thing against his person; which no successor, though never so hateful, will ever leave (for his own sake) unrevenged. Neither can your wont valour be turned to such a baseness, as in stead of a Prince, delivered unto you by so many royal ancestors, to take the tyrannous yoke of your fellow subject, in whom the innate means will bring forth ravenous covetousness, and the newness of his estate, suspectful cruelty. Imagine, what could your enemies more wish unto you, then to see your own estate with your own hands undermined? OH what would your forefathers say, if they lived at this time, & seen their offspring defacing such an excellent principality, which they with so much labour & blood so wisely have established? Do you think them fools, that seen your should not enjoy your vines, your cattle, not not your wives & children, without government; and that there could be no government without a Magistrate, and no Magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where every one upon his own private passion, may interpret the doings of the rulers? Let your wits make your present example to you. What sweetness (in good faith) found you in your present condition? what choice of choice find you, if you had lost Basilius? under whose ensign would you go, if your enemies should invade you? If you cannot agreed upon one to speak for you, how will you agreed upon one to fight for you? But with this fear of I cannot tell what, one is troubled, and with that passed wrong another is grieved. And I pray you did the Sun ever bring you a fruitful harvest, but that it was more hot than pleasant? Have any of you children, that be not sometimes cumbersome? Have any of you fathers, that be not sometime weerish? What, shall we curse the Son, hate our children, or disobey our fathers? But what need I use these words, since I see in your countenances (now virtuously settled) nothing else but love and duty to him, by whom for your only sakes the government is embraced. For all what is done, he doth not only pardon you, but thank you; judging the action by the minds, & not the minds by the action. Your grieves, and desires, whatsoever, & whensoever you list, he will consider of, and to his consideration it is reason you should refer them. So then, to conclude; the uncertainty of his estate made you take arms; now you see him well, with the same love lay them down. If now you end (as I know you will) he will make no other account of this matter, but as of a vehement, I must confess over-vehement affection: the only continuance might prove a wickedness. But it is not so, I see very well, you begun with zeal, & will end with reverence.  
argument key no. 5 The action Zelmane used, being beautified by nature and appareled with skill, her gestures being such, that as her words did paint out her mind, so they served as a shadow, to make the picture more lively and sensible, with the sweet clearness of her voice, rising & falling kindly as the nature of the word, and efficacy of the matter required, altogether in such admirable person, whose incomparable valour they had well felt, whose beauty did pierce through the thick dullness of their senses, gave such a way unto her speech through the rugged wilderness of their imaginations, who (besides they were stricken in admiration of her, as of more than a human creature) were cooled with taking breath, and had learned doubts out of leisure, that in steed of roaring cries, there was now heard nothing, but a confused muttering, whither her saying were to be followed, betwixt fear to pursue, & loathness to leave: most of them could have been content, it had never been begun, but how to end it (each afraid of his companion,) they knew not, finding it far easier to tie then to lose knots. But Zelmane thinking it no evil way in such mutinies, to give the mutinous some occasion of such service, as they might think (in their own judgement) would countervail their trespass, withal, to take the more assured possession of their minds, which she feared might begin to waver, Loyal Arcadians (said she) now do I offer unto you the manifesting of your duties: all those that have taken arms for the Prince's safety, let them turn their backs to the gate, with their weapons bend against such as would hurt his sacred person. OH weak trust of the many-headed multitude, whom inconstancy only doth guide to well doing: who can set confidence there, where company takes away shame, and each may lay the fault of his fellow? So said a crafty fellow among them, named Clinias, to himself, when he seen the word no sooner out of Zelmane's mouth, but that there were some shouts of joy, with, God save Basilius, and divers of them with much jollity grown to be his guard, that but little before meant to be his murderers.   

CHAP. 27.  
¹ A verbal crafty coward purtrayed in Clinias. ² His first raising, and with the first, relenting in this mutiny, ³ punished by the farmer. ⁴ The uproar reenforced, & weakened by themselves. ⁵ Clinias-his Sinon-like narration of this drunken rebellions original. ⁶ The king's order in it.  
THis Clinias in his youth had been a argument key no. 1 scholar so far, as to learn rather words than manners, and of words rather plenty than order; and often had used to be an actor in Tragedies, where he had learned, besides a slidingnesse of language, acquaintance with many passions, and to frame his face to bear the figure of them: long used to the eyes and ears of men, and to reckon no fault, but shamefastness; in nature, a most notable Coward, and yet more strangely then rarely venturous in privy practices.  
argument key no. 2 This fellow was become of near trust to Cecropia, Amphialushis mother, so that he was privy to all the mischievous devices, wherewith she went about to ruin Basilius, and his children, for the advancing of her son: and though his education had made him full of tongue, yet his love to be doing, taught him in any evil to be secret; and had by his mistress been used (ever since the strange retiring of Basilius) to whisper rumours into the people's ears: and this time (finding great aptness in the multitude) was one of the chief that set them in the uproar (though quite without the consent of Amphialus, who would not for all the Kingdoms of the world so have adventured the life of Philoclea.) But now perceiving the flood of their fury began to ebb, he thought it policy to take the first of the tide, so that no man cried louder than he, upon Basilius. And some of the lustiest rebels not yet agreeing to the rest, he caused two or three of his mates that were at his commandment to lift him up, & then as if he had had a prologue to utter, he began with a nice gravity to demand audience. But few attending what he said, with vehement gesture, as if he would tear the stars from the skies, he fell to crying out so loud, that not only Zelmane, but Basilius might hear him. OH unhappy men, more mad than the Giants that would have plucked jupiter out of heaven, how long shall this rage continued? why do you not all throw down your weapons, and submit your selves to our good Prince, our good Basilius, the Pelops of wisdom, & Minos of all good government? when will you begin to believe me, and other honest and faithful subjects, that have done all we could to stop your fury?  
The farmer that loved Zelmane could abide him no argument key no. 3 longer. For as at the first he was willing to speak of conditions, hoping to have gotten great soveramties, & among the rest Zelmane: so now perceiving, that the people, once any thing down the hill from their fury, would never stop till they come to the bottom of absolute yielding, and so that he should be nearer fears of punishment, than hopes of such advancement, he was one of them that stood most against the agreement: and to begin withal, disdaining this fellow should play the preacher, who had been one of the chiefest makebates, struck him a great wound upon the face with his sword. The cowardly wretch fell down, crying for succour, & (scrambling through the legs of them that were about him) got to the throne, where Zelmane took him, and comforted him, bleeding for that was past, and quaking for fear of more.  
But as soon as that blow was given (as if AEolus had argument key no. 4 broke open the door to let all his winds out) no hand was idle, each one kill him that was next, for fear he should do as much to him. For being divided in minds & not divided in companies, they that would yield to Basilius were intermingled with them that would not yield. These men thinking their ruin stood upon it; those men to get favour of their Prince, converted their ungracious motion into their own bowels, & by a true judgement grew their own punishers. Noon was sooner killed than those that had been leaders in the disobedience: who by being so, had taught them, that they did lead disobedience to the same leaders. And many times it fell out that they killed them that were of their own faction, anger whetting, and doubt hastening their fingers. But then come down Zelmane; and Basilius with Dorus issued, and sometimes seeking to draw together those of their party, sometimes laying indifferently among them, made such havoc (among the rest Zelmane striking the farmer to the heart with her sword, as before she had done with her eyes) that in a while all they of the contrary side were put to flight, and fled to certain woods upon the frontiers; where feeding coldly, and drinking only water, they were disciplined for their drunken riots; many of them being slain in that chase, about a score only escaping. But when these late rebels, now soldiers, were returned from the chase, Basilius calling them together, partly for policy sake, but principally because Zelmane before had spoken it (which was to him more than a divine ordinance) he pronounced their general pardon, willing them to return to their houses, and thereafter be more circumspect in their proceed: which they did most of them with share-marks of their folly. But imagining Clinias to be one of the chief that had bred this good alteration, he gave him particular thanks, and withal willed him to make him know, how this frenzy had entered into the people.  
argument key no. 5 Clinias purposing indeed to tell him the truth of all, saving what did touch himself, or Cecropia, first, dipping his hand in the blood of his wound, Now by this blood (said he) which is more dear to me, than all the rest that is in my body, since it is spent for your safety: this tongue (perchance unfortunate, but never false) shall not now begin to lie unto my Prince, of me most beloved. Than stretching out his hand, and making vehement countenances the ushers to his speeches, in such manner of terms recounted this accident. Yesterday (said he) being your birthday, in the goodly green two mile hence before the city of Enispus, to do honour to the day, were a four or five thousand people (of all conditions, as I think) gathered together, spending all the day in dance and other exercises: and when night come, undertents and bows making great cheer, and meaning to observe a wassaling watch all that night for your sake. Bacchus (the learned say) was begot with thunder: I think, that made him ever since so full of stur & debate. Bacchus indeed it was which sounded the first trumpet to this rude alarun. For that barbarous opinion being generally amongthem, to think with vice to do honour, & with activity in beastliness to show abundamnce of love, made most of them seek to show the depth of their affection in the depth of their draft. But being once well chased with wine (having spent all the night, & some piece of the morning in such reveling) & emboldened by your absented manner of living, there was no matter their ears had ever heard of that grew not to be a subject of their winie conference. I speak it by proof: for I take witness of the gods (who never leave perjuries unpunished) that I often cried out against their impudence, & (when that would not serve) stopped my ears, because I would not be partaker of their blasphemies, till with buffets they forced me to have my ears & eyes defiled. Public affairs were minlegd with private grudges, neither was any man thoughts of wit, that did not pretend some cause of mislike. Railing was counted the fruit of freedom, and saying nothing had his uttermost praise in ignorance. At the length, your sacred person (alas why did I live to hear it? alas how do I breath to utter it? But your commandment doth not only enjoin obedience, but give me force: your sacred person (I say) fell to be their tabletalk: a proud word swelling in their stomachs, & disdainful reproaches against so great a greatness, having put on the show of greatness in their little minds: till at length the very unbridled use of words having increased fire in their minds (which God knows thought their knowledge notable, because they had at all no knowledge to condemn their own want of knowledge) they descended (OH never to be forgotten presumption) to a direct mislike of your living from among them. Whereupon it were tedious to remember their farfetched constructions. But the sum was, you disdained them: and what were the pomps of your estate, if their arms maintained you not? Who would call you a Prince, if you had not a people? When certain of them of wretched estates, and worse minds (whose fortunes, change could not impair) began to say, that your government was to be looked into; how the great treasures (you had levied among them) had been spent; why noon but great men & gentlemen could be admitted into counsel, that the commons (forsooth) were to plain headed to say their opinions: but yet their blood & sweat must maintain all. Who could tell whither you were not betrayed in this place, where you lived? nay whither you did live or no? Therefore that it was time to come & see; and if you were here, to know (if Arcadia were grown loathsome in your sight) why you did not rid yourself of the trouble? There would not want those that would take so fair a cumber in good part. Since the Country was theirs, and the government an adherent to the country, why should they not consider of the one, as well as inhabit the other? Nay rather (said they) let us begin that, which all Arcadia will follow. Let us deliver our Prince from danger of practices, and ourselves from want of a Prince. Let us do that, which all the rest think. Let it be said, that we only are not astonished with vain titles, which have their force but in our force. Lastly, to have said & heard so much, was as dangerous, as to have attempted: & to attempt they had the name of glorious liberty with them. These words being spoken (like a furious storm) presently carried away their well inclined brains. What I, and some other of the honester sort could do, was no more, then if with a puff of breath, one should go about to make a sail go against a mighty wind: or, with one hand, stay the ruin of a mighty wall. So general grew this madness among them, there needed no drum, where each man cried, each spoke to other that spoke as fast to him, and the disagreeing sound of so many voices, was the chief token of their unmeet agreement. Thus was their banquet turned to a battle, their winie mirths to bloody rages, and the happy prayers for your life, to monstrous threatening of your estate; the solemnizing your birthday, tended to have been the cause of your funerals. But as a drunken rage hath (besides his wickedness) that folly, that the more it seeks to hurt, the less it considers how to be able to hurt: they never weighed how to arm themselves, but took up every thing for a weapon, that fury offered to their hands. Many sword, pikes, and bills there were: others took pitchforks and rakes, converting husbandry to soldiery: some caught hold of spits (things serviceable for life) to be the instruments of death. And there was some such one, who held the same pot wherein he drank to your health, to use it (as he could) to your mischief. Thus armed, thus governed, forcing the unwilling, and heartening the willing, adding fury to fury, and increasing rage with running, they come headlong toward this lodge: no man (I dare say) resolved in his own heart, what was the uttermost he would do when he come hither. But as mischief is of such nature, that it cannot stand but with strengthening one evil by an other, and so multiply in itself, till it come to the highest, and then fall with his own weight: so to their minds (once passed the bounds of obedience) more and more wickedness opened itself, so that they who first pretended to preserve you, then to reform you, (I speak it in my conscience, and with a bleeding heart) now thought no safety for them, without murdering you. So as if the Gods (who preserve you for the preservation of Arcadia) had not showed their miraculous power, and that they had not used for instruments, both your own valour (not fit to be spoken of by so mean a mouth as my) and some (I must confess) honest minds, (whom alas why should I mention, since what we did, reached not the hundred part of our duty?) our hands (I tremble to think of it) had destroyed all that, for which we have cause to rejoice that we are Arcadians.  
argument key no. 6 With that the fellow did wring his hands, & wrong out tears: so as Basilius, that was not the sharpest pearcer into masked minds, took a good liking to him; & so much the more as he had tickled him with praise in the hearing of his mistress. And therefore pitying his wound, willed him to get him home, and look well unto it, & make the best search he could, to know if there were any further depth in this matter, for which he should be well rewarded. But before he went away, certain of the shepherds being come (for that day was appointed for their pastorals) he sent one of them to Philanax, and an other to other principal noblemen, and cities there about's, to make through-inquirie of this uproar, and withal, to place such garrisons in all the towns & villages near unto him, that he might thereafter keep his solitary lodge in more security, upon the making of a fire, or ringing of a bell, having them in a readiness for him.   

CHAP. 28.  
¹ The praises of Zelmane's act. ² Dam his carol for saving himself, and his charge. ³ Basilius his conference with Philanax of the Oracle (the ground of all this story.) ⁴ His wrong-construction of it. ⁵ His hymn to Apollo. ⁶ His courting turned over to tale-telling.  
THis, Clinias (having his care one way argument key no. 1 when his eye was an other) had perceived; & therefore hasted away, with mind to tell Cecropia that she was to take some speedy resolution, or else it were danger those examinations would both discover, & ruin her: and so went his way, leaving that little company with embracements, and praising of Zelmane's excellent proceeding, to show, that no decking sets forth any thing so much, as affection. For as, while she stood at the discretion of those indiscreet rebels, every angry countenance any of them made, seemed a knife laid upon their own throats; so unspeakable was now their joy, that they seen (besides her safety & their own) the same wrought, and safely wrought by her means, in whom they had placed all their delights. What examples Greece could ever allege of wit and fortitude, were set in the rank of trifles, being compared to this action.  
argument key no. 2 But as they were in the midst of those unsained ceremonies, a Gittern, ill-played on, accompanied with a hoarse voice (who seemed to sing maugre the Muses, and to be merry in spite of Fortune) made them look the way of the ill-noysed song. The song was this.  

A Hateful cure with hate to heal:  
A bloody help with blood to save:  
A foolish thing with fools to deal:  
Let him be bold that bobs will have.  
But who by means of wisdom high  
Hath saved his charge? it is even I   

Let other deck their pride with scars,  
And of their wounds make brave lame shows:  
First let them die, then pass the stars,  
When rotten Fame will tell their blows.  
But eye from blade, and ear from cry:  
Who hath saved all? it is even I   
They had so one found it was Dam, who come with no less lifted up countenance, then if he had passed over the bellies of all his enemies: so wise a point he thought he had performed, in using the natural strength of a cave. But never was it his doing to come so soon thence, till the coast were more assuredly clear: for it was a rule with him, that after a great storm there ever fell a few drops before it be fully finished. But Pamela (who had now experienced how much care doth solicit a lovers heart) used this occasion of going to her parents and sister, indeed aswell for that cause, as being unquiet, till her eye might be assured, how her shepherd had go through the danger. But Basilius with the sight of Pamela (of whom almost his head otherwise occupied, had left the wont remembrance) was suddenly stricken into a devout kind of admiration, remembering the oracle, which (according to the fawning humour of self hope) he interpreted now his own to his own best, and with the willing blindness of affection (because his mind ran wholly upon Zelmane) he thought the Gods in their oracles did principally mind her.  
But as he was deeply thinking of the matter, one of argument key no. 3 the shepherds told him, that Philanax was already come with a hundred horse in his company. For having by chance rid not far of the little desert, he had heard of this uproar, and so was come upon the spur (gathering a company of Gentlemen as fast as he could) to the succour of his Master. Basilius was glad of it; but (not willing to have him, nor any other of the Noble men, see his Mistress) he himself went out of the Lodge, and so giving order unto him of placing garrisons, and examining these matters; and Philanax with humble earnestness beginning to entreat him to leave of his solitary course (which already had been so dangerous unto him) Well (said Basilius) it may be ere long I will condescend unto your desire. In the mean time, take you the best order you can to keep me safe in my solitariness. But, (said he) do you remember, how earnestly you wrote unto me, that I should not be moved by that Oracles authority, which brought me to this resolution? Full well Sir (answered Philanax) for though it pleased you not as then to let me know, what the Oracles words were, yet all Oracles holding (in my conceit) one degree of reputation, it sufficed me to know, it was but an Oracle, which led you from your own course. Well (said Basilius) I will now tell you the words; which before I thought not good to do; because when all the events fall out (as some already have done) I may charge you with your incredulity. So he repeated them in this sort.  

THy elder care shall from thy careful face  
By princely mean be stolen, and yet not lost.  
Thy younger shall with Nature's bliss embrace  
An uncouth love, which Nature hateth most.  
Both they themselves unto such two shall wed,  
Who at thy beer, as at a bar, shall pled;  
Why thee (a living man) they had made dead.  
In thy own seat a foreign state shall sit.  
And ere that all these blows thy head do hit,  
Thou, with thy wife, adultery shall commit.   
For you forsooth (said he) when I told you, that some supernatural cause sent me strange visions, which being confirmed with presagious chances, I had go to Delphos, & there received this answer: you replied to me, that the only supernatural causes were the humours of my body, which bred such melancholy dreams; and that both they framed a mind full of conceits, apt to make presages of things, which in themselves were merely changeable: & with all as I say, you remember what you wrote unto me, touching authority of the Oracle: but now I have some notable trial of the truth thereof, which hereafter I will more largely communicate unto you. Only now, know that the thing I most feared is already performed; I mean that a sorraine state should possess my throne. For that hath been done by Zelmane, but not as I feared, to my ruin, but to my preservation. But when he had once named Zelmane, that name was as good as a pulley, to make the clock of his praises run on in such sort, that (Philanax found) was more exquisite than the only admiration of virtue breedeth: which his faithful heart inwardly repining at, made him shrink away as soon as he could, to go about the other matters of importance, which Basilius had enjoined unto him.  
Basilius returned into the Lodge, thus by himself argument key no. 4 construing the oracle, that in that he said, his elder care should by Princely mean be stolen away from him, and yet not lost, it was now performed, since Zelmane had as it were robbed from him the care of his first begotten child, yet was it not lost, since in his heart the ground of it remained. That his younger should with Nature's bliss embrace the love of Zelmane, because he had so commanded her for his sake to do; yet should it be with as much hate of Nature, for being so hateful an opposite to the jealousy he thought her mother had of him. The sitting in his seat he deemed by her already performed: but that which most comforted him, was his interpretation of the adultery, which he thought he should commit with Zelmane, whom afterwards he should have to his wife. The point of his daughter's marriage, because it threatened his death withal, he determined to prevent, with keeping them unmarried while he lived. But having as he thought, gotten thus much understanding of the Oracle, he determined for three days after to perform certain rites to Apollo: and even then began with his wife and daughters to sing this Hymn, by them yearly used.  

argument key no. 5 APollo great, whose beams the greater world do light,  
And in our little world do clear our inward sight,  
Which ever shine, though hid from earth by earthly shade,  
Whose lights do ever live, but in our darkness sade;  
Thou God, whose youth was decked with spoils of Python's skin:  
(So humble knowledge can throw down the snakish kin)  
Latona's son, whose birth in pain and travail long  
Doth teach, to learn the good what travails do belong:  
In travail of our life (a short but tedious space)  
While brickle houreglas runs, guide thou our panting pace:  
give us foresightful minds: give us minds to obey  
What foresight tells; our thoughts upon thy knowledge stay.  
Let so our fruits grow up, that nature be maintained:  
But so our hearts keep down, with vice they be not stained.  
Let this assured hold our judgements overtake,  
That nothing wins the heaven, but what doth earth forsake.   
argument key no. 6 Assoon as he had ended his devotion (all the privileged shepherds being now come) knowing well enough he might lay all his care upon Philanax, he was willing to sweeten the taste of this passed tumult, with some rural pastimes. For which while the shepherds prepared themselves in their best manner, Basilius took his daughter Philoclea aside, and with such haste, as if his ears hunted for words, desired to know how she had found Zelmane. She humbly answered him, according to the agreement betwixt them, that thus much for her sake Zelmane was content to descend from her former resolution, as to hear him, whensoever he would speak; & further than that (she said) as Zelmane had not granted, so she neither did, nor ever would desire. Basilius kissed her with more than fatherly thanks, and strait (like a hard-kept ward new come to his lands) would feign have used the benefit of that grant, in laying his sickness before his only physician. But Zelmane (that had not yet fully determined with herself, how to bear herself toward him) made him in a few words understand, that the time in respect of the company was unfit for such a parley, & therefore to keep his brains the busier, letting him understand what she had learned of his daughters, touching Eronas distress (whom in her travail she had known, and been greatly beholding to) she desired him to finish the rest, for so far as Plangus had told him; Because she said (& she said truly) she was full of care for that Lady, whose desert (only except an over-base choice) was nothing agreeable to misfortune. Basilius' glad that she would command him any thing, but more glad, that in excusing the unsitnesse of that time, she argued an intention to grant a fit, obeyed her in this manner.   

CHAP. 29.  
¹ Antiphilus his base-born pride borne high by flattery. ² His unkind hating the loving Erona, and found loving of hating Artaxia. ³ Artaxias trap to take them both. ⁴ The man's weakness, and the woman's strength in bearing captivity. ⁵ Plangus love to her, employed by her to save Antiphilus, ⁶ who again betrays himself and them. ⁷ His execution by women. ⁸ Plangus hardy attempts to save Erona. ⁹ The conditions of her death. ¹⁰ Her sorrow for Antiphilus, ¹¹ and Plangus travail for her: with his crosses, and course therein.  
Madame (said he) it is very true, that since years enhabled me to judge what is, or is not to be pitied, I never seen anything that more moved me to justify a vehement compassion in myself, than the estare of that Prince, whom strong against all his own afflictions (which yet were great, as I perceive you have heard) yet true and noble love had so pulled down, as to lie under sorrow for another. argument key no. 1 In so much as I could not temper my long idle pen in that subject, which I perceive you have seen. But then to leave that unrepeated, which I find my daughters have told you, It may please you to understand, since it pleaseth you to demand, that Antiphilus being crowned, & so left by the famous Princes Musidorus & Pyrocles (led thence by the challenge of Anaxius, who is now in these provinces of Greece, making a dishonourable inquiry after that excellent prince Pyrocles already perished) Antiphilus (I say) being crowned, and delivered from the presence of those two, whose virtues (while they were present, good schoolmasters) suppressed his vanities, he had not strength of mind enough in him to make long delay, of discovering what manner of man he was. But strength like one carried up to so high a place, that he loseth the discerning of the ground over which he is; so was his mind lifted so far beyond the level of his own discourse, that remembering only that himself was in the high seat of a King, he could not perceive that he was a king of reasonable creatures, who would quickly scorn follies, and repined at injuries. But imagining no so true property of sovereignty, as to do what he listed, and to list whatsoever pleased his fancy, he quickly made his kingdom a Teniscourt, where his subjects should be the balls; not in truth cruelly, but licentiously abusing them, presuming so far upon himself, that what he did was liked of every body: nay, that his disgraces were favours, and all because he was a King. For in Nature not able to conceive the bonds of great matters (suddenly borne into an unknown Ocean of absolute power) he was swayed withal (he knew not how) as every wind of passions puffed him. Whereto nothing helped him better, than that poisonous sugar of flattery: which some used, out of the innate baseness of their heart, strait like dogs sawning upon the greatest; others secretly hating him, and disdaining his great rising so suddenly, so undeservedly (finding his humour) bent their exalting him only to his overthrow; like the bird that carries the shellfish high, to break him the easier with his fall. But his mind (being an apt matter to receive what form their amplifying speeches would lay upon it) danced so pretty a music to their false measure, that he thought himself the wisest, the woorthyest, and best beloved, that ever gave honour to a royal title. And being but obscurely borne, he had found out unblushing pedigrees, that made him not only of the blood royal, but true heir, unjustly dispossessed by Eronas ancestors. And like the foolish bird, that when it so hides the head that it sees not itself, thinks no body else sees it: so did he imagine, that no body knew his baseness, while he himself turned his eyes from it.  
argument key no. 2 Than vainness (a meager friend to gratefulness) brought him so to despise Erona, as of whom he had received no benefit, that within half a years marriage he began to pretend barrenness: and making first an unlawful law of having mo wives than one, he still keeping Erona, underhand, by message sought Artaxia, who no less hating him, then loving (as unlucky a choice) the naughty King Plexirtus, yet to bring to pass what he purposed, was content to train him into false hopes, till already his imagination had crowned him King of Armenia, & had made that, but the foundation of more, and more monarchies; as if fortune had only gotten eyes to cherish him. In which time a great assembly of most part of all the Princes of Asia being to do honour to the never sufficiently praised Pyrocles & Musidorus, he would be one not to acknowledge his obligation (which was as great as any of the others,) but looking to have been young master among those great estates, as he was among his abusing underlings. But so many valorous Princes, indeed far nearer to disdain him then otherwise, he was quickly (as standing upon no true ground, inwardly) out of countenance with himself, till his seldom-comfortlesse flatterers (persuading him, it was envy & fear of his expected greatness) made him haste away from that company, & without further delay appointed the meeting with Artaxia; so incredibly blinded with the overbright shining of his royalty, that he could think such a Queen could be content to be joined-patent with an other to have such an husband. Poor Erona to all this obeyed, either vehemency of affection making her stoop to so overbase a servitude, or astonished with an unlooked-for fortune, dull to any behooveful resolution, or (as many times it falls out even in great hearts when they can accuse noon but themselves) desperately bend to maintain it. For so went she on in that way of her love, that (poor Lady) to be beyond all other examples of ill-set affection, she was brought to writ to Artaxia, that she was content, for the public good, to be a second wife, and yield the first place to her: nay to extol him, and even woe Artaxia for him.  
But Artaxia (mortally hating them both for her brother's argument key no. 3 sake) was content to hide her hate, till she had time to show it: and pretending that all her grudge was against the two paragons of virtue, Musidorus & Pyrocles, even met them half way in excusing her brother's murder, as not being principal actors; and of the otherside, driven to what they did by the ever-pardonable necessity: and so well handled the matter, as, though she promised nothing, yet Antiphilus promised himself all that she would have him think. And so a solemn interview was appointed. But (as the Poets say) Hymen had not there his saffron-coloured cote. For Artaxia laying men secretly (and easily they might be secret, since Antiphilus thought she overran him in love) when he come even ready to embrace her, showing rather a countenance of accepting then offering, they come forth, and (having much advantage both in number, valour, and fore-preparation) put all his company to the sword; but such as could fly away. As for Antiphilus she caused him and Erona both to be put in irons, hasting back toward her brother's tomb, upon which she meant to sacrifice them; making the love of her brother stand between her and all other motions of grace, from which by nature she was alienated.  
argument key no. 4 But great diversity in them two quickly discovered itself for the bearing of that affliction. For Antiphilus that had no greatness but outward, that taken away, was ready to fall faster than calamity could thrust him; with fruitless begging (where reason might well assure him his death was resolved) and weak bemoaning his fortune, to give his enemies a most pleasing music, with many promises, and protestations, to as little purpose, as from a little mind. But Erona sad indeed, yet like one rather used, then new fallen to sadness (as who had the joys of her heart already broken) seemed rather to welcome then to shun that end of misery, speaking little, but what she spoke was for Antiphilus, remembering his guiltlessness, being at that time prisoner to Tiridates, when the valiant princes slew him: to the disgrace of men, showing that there are women more wise to judge what is to be expected, and more constant to bear it when it is happened.  
argument key no. 5 But her wit endeared by her youth, her affliction by her birth, and her sadness by her beauty, made this noble prince Plangus, who (never almost from his cousin Artaxia) was now present at Eronaes taking, to perceive the shape of loveliness more perfectly in woe, then in joyfulness (as in a picture which receives greater life by the darkness of shadows, then by more glittering colours) and seeing to like; and liking to love; and loving strait to feel the most incident effects of love, to serve and preserve. So borne by the hasty tide of short leisure, he did hastily deliver together his affection, and affectionate care. But she (as if he had spoken of a small matter, when he mentioned her life, to which she had not leisure to attended) desired him if he loved her, to show it, in finding some way to save Antiphilus. For her, she found the world but a wearisome stage unto her, where she played a part against her will: and therefore besought him, not to cast his love in so unfruitful a place, as could not love itself: but for a testimony of constancy, and a suitableness to his word, to do so much comfort to her mind, as that for her sake Antiphilus were saved. He told me how much he argued against her tendering him, who had so ungratefully betrayed her, and foolishly cast away himself. But perceiving she did not only bend her very good wits to speak for him against herself, but when such a cause could be allied to no reason, yet love would needs make itself a cause, & bar her rather from hearing, then yield that she should yield to such arguments: he likewise in whom the power of Love (as they say of spirits) was subject to the love in her, with grief consented, & (though backwardly) was diligent to labour the help of Antiphilus: a man whom he not only hated, as a trair our to Erona, but envied as a possessor of Erona. Yet Love swore, his heart, in spite of his heart, should make him become a servant to his rival. And so did he, seeking all the means of persuading Artaxia, which the authority of so near, and so virtuous a kinsman would give unto him. But she to whom the eloquence of hatred had given revenge the face of delight, rejected all such motions; but rather the more closely imprisoning them in her chief city, where she kept them with intention at the birthday of Tiridates (which was very near) to execute Antiphilus, & at the day of his death (which was about half a year after) to use the same rigour towars Erona. Plangus much grieved (because much loving) attempted the humours of the Lycians, to see, whither they would come in with forces to succour their Princess. But there the next inheritor to the crown (with the true play that is used in the game of kingdoms) had no sooner his mistress in captivity, but he had usurped her place, & making her odious to her people, because of the unfit election she had made, had so left no hope there: but which is worse, had sent to Artaxia, persuading the iusticing her, because that unjustice might give his title the name of justice. Wanting that way, Plangus practised with some dear friends of his, to save Antiphilus out of prison, whose day because it was much nearer than Eronaes, & that he well found, she had twisted her life upon the same thread with his, he determined first to get him out of prison: & to that end having prepared all matters as well as in such case he could, where Artaxia had set many of Tiridates old servants to have well-marking eyes, he conferred with Antiphilus, as (by the avothoritie he had) he found means to do; & agreed with him of the time and manner, how he should by the death of some of his jailers escape.  
But all being well ordered, and Plangus willingly argument key no. 6 putting himself into the greatest danger, Antiphilus (who, like a bladder, swelled ready to break, while it was full of the wind of prosperity, that being out, was so abjected, as apt to be trodden on by every body) when it come to the point, that with some hazard, he might be in apparent likelihood to avoid the uttermost harm, his heart fainted, and (weak fool, neither hoping, nor fearing as he should) got a conceit, that with bewraying his practice, he might obtain pardon: and therefore, even a little before Plangus should have come unto him, opened the whole practice to him that had the charge, with unpitied tears idly protesting, he had rather die by Artaxias commandment, then against her will escape: yet begging life upon any the hardest, and wretchedest conditions that she would lay upon him. His keeper provided accordingly, so that when Plangus come, he was like, himself to have bene entrappud: but that finding (with a lucky insight) that it was discovered, he retired; and (calling his friends about him) stood upon his guard, as he had good cause. For, Artaxia (accounting him most ungrateful, considering that her brother and she, had not only preserved him against the malice of his father, but ever used him much liker his birth, than his fortune) sent forces to apprehended him. But he among the martial men had gotten so great love, that he could not only keep himself from the malice, but work in their minds a compassion of Eronas adversity.  
But for the succour of Antiphilus he could get no argument key no. 7 body to join with him, the contempt of him having not been able to qualify the hatred; so that Artaxia might easily upon him perform her will; which was (at humble svite of all the women of that city) to deliver him to their censure, who mortally hating him for having made a law of Polygamy, after many tortures, forced him to throw himself from a high Pyramid, which was built over Tiridates tomb, and so to end his fallse-harted life, which had planted no strong thought in him, but that he could be unkind.  
argument key no. 8 But Plangus well perceiving that Artaxia stayed only for the appointed day, that the fair Eronas body, (consumed to ashes) should make a notorious testimony, how deeply her brother's death was engraven in her breast, he assembled good numbers of friends, whom his virtue (though a stranger) had tied unto him, by force to give her liberty. Contrariwise, Artaxia, to whom Anger gave more courage than her sex did fear, used her regal authority (the most she could) to suppress that sedition, and have her will: which (she thought) is the most princely thing that may be. But Plangus, who indeed (as all men witness) is one of the best captains (both for policy and valour) that are trained in the school of Mars, in a conflict overthrew Artaxias power, though of far greater number: and there took prisoner a base son of her brothers, whom she dearly affected, & then sent her word that he should run the same race of fortune (whatsoever it was) that Erona did: & happy was that threatening for her; for else Artaxia had hastened the day of her death, in respect of those tumults.  
argument key no. 9 But now (some principal noblemen of that country interposing themselves) it was agreed, that all persons else fully pardoned, and all prisoners (except Erona) delivered, she should be put into the hands of a principal nobleman, who had a castle of great strength, upon oath, that if by the day two year from Tiridates death, Pyrocles and Musidorus did not in person combat, & overcome two knights, whom she appointed to maintain her quarrel against Erona and them, of having by treason destroyed her brother, that than Erona should be that same day burned to ashes: but if they come, and had the victory, she should be delivered; but upon no occasion, neither freed, nor executed, till that day. And hereto of both sides, all took solemn oath, and so the peace was concluded; they of Plangus party forcing him to agreed, though he himself the sooner condescended, knowing the courtesy of those two excellent Princes, not to refuse so noble a quarrel, and their power such, as two more (like the other two) were not able to resist. But Artaxia was more, and upon better ground, pleased with this action; for she had even newly received news from Plexirtus, that upon the sea he had caused them both to perish, and therefore she held herself sure of the match.  
argument key no. 10 But poor Plangus knew not so much, and therefore seeing his party (as most times it falls out in like case) hungry of conditions of peace, accepted them; & then obtained leave of the Lord, that indifferently kept her, to visit Erona, whom he found full of desperate sorrow, not suffering, neither his unworthiness, nor his wrongs, nor his death (which is the natural conclusion of all worldly acts) either to cover with forgetfulness, or diminish with consideration, the affection she had borne him: but even glorying in affliction, and shunning all comfort, she seemed to have no delight, but in making herself the picture of misery. So that when Plangus come to her, she fell in deadly trances, as if in him she had seen the death of Antiphilus, because he had not succoured him: and yet (her virtue striving) she did at one time acknowledge herself bound, and profess herself injured; in steed of allowing the conclusion they had made, or writing to the Princes (as he wished her to do) craving nothing but some speedy death to follow, her (in spite of just hate) beloved Antiphilus.  
argument key no. 11 So that Plangus having nothing but a ravished kiss from her hand at their parting ', went away toward Greece, whetherward he understood the Princes were embarked. But by the way it was his fortune to intercept letters, written by Artaxia to Plexirtus: wherein she signified her accepting him to her husband, whom she had ever favoured, so much the rather, as he had performed the conditions of her marriage, in bringing to their deserved end, her greatest enemies: withal, thanking the sea, in such terms, as he might well perceive, it was by some treason wrought in Plexirtus ship. Whereupon (to make more diligent search) he took ship himself, and come into Laconia, inquiring, and by his inquiry finding, that such a ship was indeed with fight, and fire, perished, noon (almost) escaping. But for Pyrocles and Musidorus, it was assuredly determined that they were cast away: for the name of such Princes (especially in Greece) would quickly else have been a large witness to the contrary. Full of grief with that, for the loss of such, who left the world poor of perfection: but more sorry for Eronas sake, who now by them could not be relieved. A new advertisement from Armenia overtook him, which multiplied the force of his anguish. It was a message from the Nobleman who had Erona in ward, giving him to understand, that since his departure, Artaxia (using the benefit of time) had besieged him in his castle, demanding present delivery of her, whom yet for his faith given, he would not, before the day appointed, if possibly he could resist, which he foresaw, long he should not do for want of victual, which he had not so wisely provided, because he trusted upon the general oath taken for two years space: & therefore willed him to make hast to his succour, & come with no small forces; for all they that were of his side in Armenia, were consumed, & Artaxia had increased her might by marriage of Plexirtus, who now crowned King there, sticked not to glory in the murder of Pyrocles and Musidorus, as having just cause thereto, in respect of the deaths of his sister Andromana, her son his nephew, and his own daughter Zelmane, all whose loss he unjustly charged them withal, & now openly sticked not to confess, what a revenge his wit had brought forth. Plangus much astonished herewith, bethought himself what to do. For to return to Armenia was vain, since his friends there were utterly overthrown. Then thought he of going to his father; but he had already (even since the death of his stepmother, & brother) attempted the recovering his favour, & all in vain. For they, that had before joined with Andromana to do him the wrong, thought now no life for them if he returned, & therefore kept him still (with new forged suspicions) odious to his father. So that Plangus reserving that for a work of longer time, than the saving of Erona could bear, determined to go to the mighty and good King Euarchus: who lately having (to his eternal fame) fully, not only conquered his enemies, but established good government in their countries, he hoped he might have present succour of him, both for the justness of the cause, & revenge of his children's death, by so heinous a treason murdered. Therefore with diligence he went to him; & by the way (passing through my country) it was my hap to found him, the most overthrown man with grief, that ever I hope to see again. For still it seemed he had Erona at a stake before his eyes; such an apprehension he had taken of her danger; which in despite of all the comfort I could give him, he poured out in such lamentations, that I was moved not to let him pass, till he had made full declaration, which by pieces my daughters & I have delivered unto you. Fain he would have had succour of myself, but the course of my life being otherwise bend, I only accompanied him with some that might safely guide him to the great Euarchus: for my part having had some of his speeches so feelingly in my memory, that at an idle time (as I told you) I set them down Dialogue-wise, in such manner as you have seen. And thus, excellent Lady, I have obeyed you in this story; wherein if it well please you to consider, what is the strange power of Love, and what is due to his authority, you shall exercise therein the true nobleness of your judgement, and do the more right to the unfortunate Historian. Zelmane (sighing for Eronaes sake, yet inwardly comforted in that she assured herself, Euarchus would not spare to take in hand the just delivering of her, joined with the just revenge of his children's loss) having now what she desired of Basilius, to avoid his further discourses of affection, encouraged the shepherds to begin, whom she seen all ready for them.   

The second Eclogues.  
THe rude tumult of the Enispians gave occasion to the honest shepherds to begin their pastorals this day with a dance, which they called the skirmish betwixt Reason and Passion. For seven shepherds (which were named the Reasonable shepherds) joined themselves; four of them making a square, and the other two going a little wide of either side, like wings for the main battle; and the seventh man foremost, like the forlorn hope to begin the skirmish. In like order come out the seven appassionated shepherds; all keeping the pace of their foot by their voice, and sundry consorted instruments they held in their arms. And first, the foremost of Reasonable side began to sing.  R. 
Thou Rebel vile, come, to thy master yield.  And the other that met with him answered. P. 
Not, Tyrant; no: my, my shall be the field.  Reason. 
Can Reason then a Tyrant counted be?  Passion. 
If Reason will, that Passions be not free.  R. 
But Reason will, that Reason govern most.  P. 
And Passion will, that Passion rule the roast.  R. 
Your will is will; but Reason reason is.  P. 
Will hath his will, when Reasons will doth miss.  R. 
Whom Passion leads unto his death is bend.  P. 
And let him die, so that he die content.  R. 
By nature you to Reason faith have sworn.  P, 
Not so, but fellowlike together borne.  R. 
Who Passion doth ensue, lives in annoy.  P. 
Who Passion doth forsake, lives voided of joy.  R. 
Passion is blind, and treads an unknown trace  P. 
Reason hath eyes to see his own ill case.  
Than as they approached nearer, the two of Reasons sides, as if they shot at the other, thus sang.  R. 
Dare Passions then abide in Reasons light?  P. 
And is not Reason dimmed with Passions might?  R. 
OH foolish thing, which glory doth destroy.  P. 
OH glorious title of a foolish toy.  R. 
Weakness you are, dare you with our strength fight?  P. 
Because our weakness weakeneth all your might.  R. 
OH sacred Reason, help our virtuous toils.  P. 
OH Passion, pass on feeble Reasons spoils.  R. 
We with ourselves abide a daily strife.  P. 
We gladly use the sweetness of our life.  R. 
But yet our strife sure peace in end doth breed.  P. 
We now have peace, your peace we do not need.  
Than did the two square battles meet, & in steed of fight embrace one another, singing thus.  R. 
We are too strong: but Reason seeks no blood.  P. 
Who be too weak, do feign they be too good.  R. 
Though we cannot o'ercome, our cause is just.  P. 
Let us o'ercome, and let us be unjust.  R. 
Yet Passion, yield at length to Reasons stroke.  P. 
What shall we win by taking Reasons yoke?  R. 
The joys you have shall be made permanent.  P. 
But so we shall with grief learn to repent.  R. 
Repent indeed, but that shall be your bliss.  P. 
How know we that, since present joys we miss?  R. 
You know it not: of Reason therefore know it.  P. 
No Reason yet had ever skill to show it.  R. P. 

Than let us both to heavenly rules give place,  
Which Passions skill, and Reason do deface.   
THen embraced they one another, and come to the King, who framed his praises of them according to Zelmane's liking; whose unrestrained parts, the mind & eye, had their free course to the delicate Philoclea, whose look was not short in well requiting it, although she knew it was a hateful sight to her jealous mother. But Dicus (that had in this time taken a great liking of Dorus for the good parts he found above his age in him) had a delight to taste the fruits of his wit, though in a subject which he himself most of all other despised: and so entered to speech with him in the manner of this following Eclogue.  Dicus. Dorus. Dicus. 

DOrus, tell me, where is thy wont motion  
To make these woods resound thy lamentation?  
Thy saint is dead, or dead is thy devotion.  
For who doth hold his love in estimation,  
To witness, that he thinks his thoughts delicious,  
Thinks to make each thing badge of his sweet passion.   Dorus. 

But what doth make thee Dicus so suspicious  
Of my due faith, which needs must be immutable?  
Who others virtue doubt, themselves are vicious.  
Not so; although my metal were most mutable,  
Her beams have wrought therein most fair impression:  
To such a force some change were nothing suitable.   Dicus. 

The heart well set doth never shun confession:  
If noble be thy bands, make them notorious:  
Silence doth seem the mask of base oppression.  
Who glories in his love, doth make Love glorious:  
But who doth fear, or bideth mute wilfully,  
Shows, guilty heart doth deem his state opprobrious.  
Thou then, that framste both words & voice most skilfully.  
Yield to our ears a sweet and sounded relation,  
If Love took thee by force, or caught thee guilefully.   Dorus. 

If Sunny beams shame heavenly habitation;  
If three-leaued grass seem to the sheep unsavoury,  
Than base and sour is loves most high vocation.  
Or if sheeps cries can help the Suns own bravery,  
Than may I hope, my pipe may have ability,  
To help her praise, who decks me in her slavery.  
Not, not: no words ennoble selfe-nobilitic.  
As for your doubts; her voice was it deceived me,  
Her eye the force beyond all possibility.   Dicus. 

Thy words well voiced, well gra'ste had almost heaved me  
Quite from myself to love loves contemplation;  
Till of these thoughts thy sudden end bereaved me.  
Go on therefore, and tell us, by what fashion  
In thy own proof he gets so strange possession,  
And how possessed he strengthens his invasion?   Dorus. 

Sight is his root, in thought is his progression,  
His childhood wonder, prenticeship attention,  
His youth delight, his age the soul's oppression:  
Doubt is his sleep, he waketh in invention;  
Fancy his food, his clothing is of carefulness;  
Beauty his boot, his play lovers dissension:  
His eyes are curious search, but veiled with warefulnesse:  
His wings desire often clipped with desperation:  
Largesse his hands could never skill of sparefulnesse.  
But how he doth by might, or by persuasion  
To conquer, and his conqnest how to ratify,  
Experience doubts, and schools hold disputation,   Dicus. 

But so thy sheep may thy good wishes satisfy  
With large increase, and wool of fine perfection,  
So she thy love, her eyes thy eyes may gratify,  
As thou wilt give our souls a dear refection,  
By telling how she was, how now she framed is  
To help, or hurt in thee her own infection.   Dorus. 

Blessed be the name, wherewith my mistress named is:  
Whose wounds are salves, whose yokes please more than pleasure doth:  
Her stains are beams; virtue the fault she blamed is.  
The heart, eye, ear here only found his treasure doth:  
All numbering arts her endless graces number not:  
Time, place, life, wit scarcely her rare gifts measure doth.  
Is she in rage? so is the Sun in summer hot,  
Yet harvest brings. Doth she alas absent herself?  
The Sun is hid; his kindly shadows cumber not.  
But when to give some grace she doth content herself,  
OH then it shines; then are the heavens distributed,  
And Venus seems, to make up her, she spent herself.  
Thus then (I say) my mischiefs have contributed  
A greater good by her divine reflection;  
My harms to me, my bliss to her attributed,  
Thus she is framed: her eyes are my direction;  
Her love my life; her anger my destruction.  
Lastly what so she is, that's my protection.   Dicus. 

Thy safety sure is wrapped in destruction:  
For that construction thy own words do bear.  
A man to fear a woman's moody eye,  
Makes Reason lie a slave to servile Sense.  
A weak defence where weakness is thy force:  
So is remorse in folly dearly bought.   Dorus. 

If I had thought to hear blasphemous words,  
My breast to swords, my soul to hell have sold  
I rather would, then thus my ears defile  
With words so vile, which viler breath doth breed.  
OH herds take heed; for I a wolf have found;  
Who hunting round the strongest for to kill,  
His breast doth fill with earth of others joys,  
And laden so pulls down, pulled down destroys.  
OH shepherds boys, eschew these tongues of venom,  
Which do enuenome both the soul and senses.  
Our best defences are to fly these adders.  
OH tongues like ladders made to climb dishonour,  
Who judge that honour, which hath scope to slander.   Dicus. 

Dorus you wander far in great reproaches;  
So love encroches on your charmed reason,  
But it is season for to end our singing.  
Such anger bringing: as for me, my fancy  
In sick-man's frenzy rather takes compassion,  
Than rage for rage: rather my wish I sand to thee,  
Thou soon may have some help, or change of passion.  
She often her looks, the stars her favour bend to thee:  
Fortune store, Nature health, Love grant persuasion.  
A quiet mind noon but thyself can lend to thee,  
Thus I commend to thee all our former love,   Dorus. 

Well do I prove, error lies often in zeal,  
Yet it is seal, though error, of true heart.  
Naught could impart such heats to friendly mind.  
But for to found thy words did her disgrace,  
Whose only face the little heaven is,  
Which who doth miss his eyes are but delusions,  
Barred from their chiefest object of delightfulness,  
Thrown on this earth the Chaos of confusions.  
As for thy wish to my enraged spitefulness,  
The lovely blown with rare reward, my prayer is  
Thou mayest love her that I may see thy sightfulnesse.  
The quiet mind (whereof myself empairer is,  
As thou dost think) should most of all disquiet me  
Without her love, than any mind who fairer is.  
Her only cure from surfet-woes can diet me:  
She holds the balance of my contentation:  
Her cleared eyes, naught else, in storms can quiet me.  
Nay rather than my ease discontentation  
Should breed to her, let me for ay dejected be  
From any joy, which might her grief occasion.  
With so sweet plagues my happy harms infected be:  
Paine wills me die, yet will of death I mortify:  
For though life irks, in life my loves protected be.  
Thus for each change my changeless heart I fortify.   
When they had ended to the good pleasing of the assistants, especially of Zelmane, who never forgot to give due commendations to her friend Dorus, the more to advance him in his pursuit (although therein he had brought his matters to a more wished conclusion then yet she knew of) out start a jolly younker, his name was Nico, whose tongue had borne a very itching silence all this while. And having spied one Pas, a mate of his, as mad as himself (both indeed lads to climb any tree in the world) he bestowed this manner of salutation upon him, and was with like reverence requited.  Nico. Dorus. Nico. 

ANd are you there old Pas? in troth I ever thought,  
Among us all we should found out some thing of naught.   Pas. 

And I am here the same, so moat I thrive and thee,  
Despairde in all this flock to found a knave, but thee.   Nico. 

Ah now I see, why thou art in thyself so blind:  
Thy gray-hood hides the thing, that thou despairst to found.   Pas. 

My gray-hood is my own, all be it be but grey,  
Not like the scrip thou stol'ste, while Dorcas sleeping lay.   Nico. 

My was the scrip: but thou, that seeming raid with love,  
Didst snatch from Cosmas hand her greeny wroughten glove.   Pas. 

Ah fool; so Courtiers do. But who did lively skip,  
When for a treene-dish stolen, thy father did thee whip?   Nico. 

In deed the witch thy dam her crouch from shoulder spread,  
For pilfering Lalus lamb, with crouch to bless thy head.   Pas. 

My voice the lamb did win, Menalcas was our judge:  
Of singing match was made, whence he with shame did trudge.   Nico. 

Couldst thou make Lalus fly? sø nightingales avoid,  
When with the kawing crows their music is annoide.   Pas. 

Nay like to nightingales the other birds give ear:  
My pipe and song made him both pipe and song forswear.   Nico. 

I think it well: such voice would make one music hate:  
But if I had been there, the add'st met another mate.   Pas. 

Another sure as is a gander from a goose:  
But still when thou dost sing, me thinks a colt is lose.   Nico. 

Well aimed by my hat: for as thou sangst last day;  
The neighbours all did cry, alas what ass doth bray?   Pas. 

But here is Dicus old; let him then speak the wøord,  
To whither with best cause the Nymphs fair flowers afford.   Nico. 

Content: but I will lay a wager hereunto,  
That profit may ensue to him that best can do.  
I have (and long shall have) a white great nimble cat,  
A king upon a mouse, a strong foe to the rat,  
Fine ears, long tail he hath, with Lions kerbed claw,  
Which often he lifteth up, and stays his lifted paw,  
Deep musing to himself, which after-mewing shows,  
Till with licked beard, his eye of fire espy his foes.  
If thou (alas poor if) do win, then win thou this,  
And if I better sing, let me thy Cosma kiss.   Pas. 

Kiss her? now mayst thou kiss. I have a better match;  
A pretty cur it is; his name iwis is Catch,  
No ear nor tail he hath, lest they should him disgrace,  
A ruddy hair his cote, with fine long spectled face:  
He never musing stands, but with himself will play  
Leaping at every fly, and angry with a flea:  
He eft would kill a mouse, but he disdains to fight,  
And makes our home good sport with dancing bolt upright.  
This is my pawn; the price let Dicus judgement show;  
Such odds I willing lay; for him and you I know.   Dicus. 

Sing then my lads, but sing with better vain than yet.  
Or else who singeth worst, my skill will hardly hit.   Nico. 

Who doubts but Pas fine pipe again will bring  
The ancient praise to Arcad shepherds skill?  
Pan is not dead, since Pas begins to sing.   Pas. 

Who evermore will love Apollo's quill,  
Since Nico doth to sing so widely gape?  
Nico his place far better furnish william.   Nico. 

Was not this he, who did for Syrinx scape  
Raging in woes teach pastors first to plain?  
Do you not hear his voice, and see his shape?   Pas. 

This is not he that failed her to gain,  
Which made a Bay, made Bay a holy tree:  
But this is one that doth his music stain.   Nico. 

OH Fauns, OH Fairies all, and do you see,  
And suffer such a wrong? a wrong I trow,  
That Nico must with Pas compared be?   Pas. 

OH Nymphs, I tell you news, for Pas you know:  
While I was warbling out your wonted praise,  
Nico would needs with Pas his bagpipe blow.   Nico. 

If never I did fail your holidays,  
With dances, carols, or with barlybreake:  
Let Pas now know, how Nico makes the lays.   Pas. 

If each day hath been holy for your sake,  
Unto my pipe, OH Nymphs, help now my pipe,  
For Pas well knows what lays can Nico make.   Nico. 

Alas how often I look on cherries ripe,  
Me thinks I see the lips my Leuca hath,  
And wanting her, my weeping eyes I wipe.   Pas. 

Alas, when I in spring meet roses rathe,  
And think from Cosmas sweet read lips I live,  
I leave my eyes unwipte my cheeks to bathe.   Nico. 

As I of late, near bushes used my sive,  
I spied a thrush where she did make her nest,  
That will I take, and to my Leuca give.   Pas. 

But long have I a sparrow gailie dressed,  
As white as milk, and coming to the call,  
To put it with my hand in Cosmas breast.   Nico. 

I often do sue, and Leuca faith, I shall,  
But when I did come near with heat and hope,  
She ran away, and threw at me a ball.   Pas. 

Cosma once said, she left the wicket ope,  
For me to come, and so she did: I come,  
But in the place found nothing but a rope.   Nico. 

When Leuca doth appear, the Sun for shame  
Doth hide himself: for to himself he says,  
If Leuca live, she darken will my fame.   Pas. 

When Cosma doth come forth, the Sun displays  
His utmost light: for well his wit doth know,  
Cosmas fair bcames emblemish much his rays.   Nico. 

Leuca to me did yester-morning show  
In perfect light, which could not me deceive,  
Her naked leg, more white than whitest snow.   Pas. 

But yesternight by light I did receive  
From Cosmas eyes, which full in darkness shine,  
I saw her arm, where purest Lilies cleave.   Nico. 

She once stark naked did bathe a little time;  
But still (me thought) with beauties from her fell,  
She did the waters wash, and make more fine.   Pas. 

She once, to cool herself, stood in a well,  
But ever since that well is well besought,  
And for Rose-water sold of rarest smell.   Nico. 

To rivers bank, being on walking brought,  
She bade me spy her baby in the brook,  
Alas (said I) this babe doth nurse my thought.   Pas. 

As in a glass I held she once did look,  
I said, my hands well paid her for my eyes,  
Since in my hands self goodly sight she took.   Nico. 

OH if I had a ladder for the skies,  
I would climb up, and bring a prettic star,  
To wear upon her neck, that open lies.   Pas. 

OH if I had Apollo's golden car,  
I would come down, and yield to her my place,  
That (shining now) she then might shine more far.   Nico. 

Nothing (OH Leuca) shall thy fame deface,  
While shepherds tunes be heard, or rhymes be read,  
Or while that shepherds love a lovely face.   Pas. 

Thy name (OH Cosma) shall with praise be spread,  
As far as any shepherds piping be:  
As far as Love possesseth any head.   Nico. 

Thy monument is laid in many a tree,  
With name engraved: so though thy body die,  
The after-folkes shall wonder still at thee.   Pas. 

So often these woods have heard me Cosma cry,  
That after death, to heaven in woods resound,  
With Echoes help, shall Cosma, Cosma fly.   Nico. 

Peace, peace good Pas, thou weeriest even the ground  
With sluttish song: I pray thee learn to blea,  
For good thou mayst yet prove in sheepish sound.   Pas. 

My father hath at home a pretty jay,  
Go win of him (for chattering) praise or shame:  
For so yet of a conquest speak thou may.   Nico. 

Tell me (and be my Pan) the monsters name,  
That hath four legs, and with two only goes,  
That hath four eyes, and only two can frame.   Pas. 

Tell me (and Phoebus be) what monster grows  
With so strong lives, that body cannot rest  
In ease, until that body life foregoes.   Dicus. 

Enough, enough: so ill hath done the best,  
That since the having them to neither's due,  
Let cat and dog fight which shall have both you.   
SOme speech there strength grew among the hearers, what they should mean by the riddles of the two monsters. But Zelmane, whose heart better delighted in wailful ditties, as more according to her fortune, she desired Lamon, he would again repeat some other lamentation of the still-absent Strephon and Klaius. Basilius (as soon as he understood Zelmane's pleasure) commanded Lamon upon pain of his life (as though every thing were a matter of life and death, that pertained to his mistress service) immediately to sing it: who with great cunning, varying his voice according to the diversity of the persons, began this Dizaine, answered in that kind of verse, which is called the Crown.  Strephon. Klaius. Strephon. 

I joy in grief, and do detest all joys:  
Despise delight, and tired with thought of ease  
I turn my mind to all forms of annoys,  
And with the change of them my fancy please.  
I study that which may me most displease,  
And in despite of that displeasures might,  
Embrace that most, that most my soul destroys.  
Blinded with beams, fell darkness is my sight:  
Dole on my ruin feeds, with sucking smart,  
I think from me, not from my woes to part.   Klaius. 

I think from me, not from my woes to part,  
And loathe this time, called life, nay think, that life  
Nature to me for torment did emparte;  
Think, my hard haps have blunted deaths sharp knife,  
Not sparing me, in whom his works be rise:  
And thinking this, think Nature, Life, and Death  
Place sorrows triumph on my conquered breast:  
Whereto I yield, and seek noon other breath,  
But from the sent of some infectious grave:  
Nor of my fortune aught, but mischieve crave.   Strephon. 

Nor of my fortune aught but mischief crave,  
And seek to nourish that, which now contains  
All what I am: if I myself will save,  
Than must I save, what in me chief reigns,  
Which is the hateful web of Sorrows pains.  
Sorrow then cherish me, for I am sorrow:  
Not being now, but sorrow I can have:  
Than deck me as thine own; thy help I borrow,  
Since thou my riches art, and that thou haste  
Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste.   Klaius. 

Enough to make a fertile mind lie waste  
Is that huge storm, which powers itself on me:  
Hailstones of tears, of sighs a monstrous blast,  
Thunders of cries; lightnings my wild looks be,  
The darkened heaven my soul which naught can see;  
The flying spirits which trees by roots up tear  
Be those despairs, which have my hopes quite waste.  
The difference is; all folks those storms forbear:  
But I cannot; who then myself should fly  
So close unto myself my wracks do lie.   Strephon. 

So close unto myself my wracks do lie;  
Both cause, effect, beginning, and the end  
Are all in me: what help then can I try?  
My ship, myself; whose course to love doth bend,  
Sore beaten doth her mast of Comfort spend:  
Her cable, Reason, breaks from anchor, Hope:  
Fancy, her tackling, torn away doth fly:  
Ruin, the wind, hath blown her from her scope:  
Bruised with waves of Cares, but broken is  
On rock, Despair, the burial of my bliss.   Klaius. 

On rock, Despair, the burial of my bliss  
I long do plough with plough of deep Desire:  
The seed Fast-meaning is, no truth to miss:  
I harowe it with Thoughts, which all conspire  
Favour to make my chief and only hire.  
But, woe is me, the year is go about,  
And now I feign would reap, I reap but this,  
Hate fully grown, Absence new sprongen out.  
So that I see, although my sight impair,  
Vain is their pain, who labour in Despair.   Strephon. 

Vain is their pain, who labour in Despair.  
For so did I, when with my angle, Will,  
I sought to catch the fish Torpedo fair.  
Even than Despair did Hope already kill:  
Yet Fancy would perforce employ his skill,  
And this hath got; the catcher now is caught,  
Lamed with the angle, which itself did bear,  
And unto death, quite drowned in Dolours, brought  
To death, as then disguised in her fair face.  
Thus, thus I had, alas, my loss in chase.   Klaius. 

Thus, thus I had, alas, my loss in chase,  
When first that crowned Basilisk I knew,  
Whose footsteps I with kisses often did trace,  
Till by such hap, as ● must ever rue,  
My eyes did light upon her shining hew,  
And hers on me, astonished with that sight.  
Since than my heart did lose his wont place,  
Infected so with her sweet poisons might,  
That, leaving me for dead, to her it went:  
But ah her flight hath my dead relics spent.   Strephon. 

But ah her flight hath my dead relics spent,  
Her flight from me, from me, though dead to me,  
Yet living still in her, while her beams lent  
Such vital spark, that her my eyes might see.  
But now those living lights absented be,  
Full dead before, I now to dust should fall,  
But that eternal pains my soul should bend,  
And keep it still within this body thrall:  
That thus I must, while in this death I devil,  
In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell.   Klaius. 

In earthly fetters feel a lasting hell  
Alas I do; from which to find release,  
I would the earth, I would the heavens fell.  
But vain it is to think these pains should cease,  
Where life is death, and death cannot breed peace.  
OH fair, o only fair, from thee, alas,  
These soul, most soul, distresses to me fell;  
Since thou from me (o me) o Sun didst pass.  
Therefore esteeming all good blessings toys  
I joy in grief, and do detest all joys.   Strephon. 

I joy in grief, and do detest all joys.  
And now an end, (o Claius) now an end  
For even the herbs our mournful music stroyes,  
And from our burning breath the trees do bend.   
So well did Lamons voice express the passions of those shepherds, that all the Princely beholders were stricken in a silent consideration of them; indeed every one making, that he heard of another the balance of his own troubles. And Basilius perceiving such melancholic music best consorted to the humour of his mistress, entreated again the young melancholy shepherd, that he would emparte some part of the sorrow his countenance so well witnessed unto them. Which he in part to satisfy, began an Eclogue betwixt himself and the Echo: framing his voice in those desert places, as what words he would have the Echo reply unto, those he would sing higher than the rest, and so kindly framed a disputation betwixt himself and it. Which with these Hexameters in the following order he uttered.  [Strephon and] Echo 

Fair rocks, goodly rivers, sweet woods, when shall I see peace? [Echo:] Peace.  
Peace? who debars me my tongue? who is it that comes me so nigh? [Echo:] I  
OH I do know what guest I do meet: it is Echo. [Echo:] 'Tis Echo  
Wellmett Echo; approach, and tell me thy will too. [Echo:] I will too.  
Echo, what do I get yielding my spirit to my grieves? [Echo:] Grieves.  
What medicine may I find for a pain that draws me to death? [Echo:] Death.  
OH poïs'nous medicine: what worse to me can be than it? [Echo:] It.  
In what state was I then, when I took this deadly disease? [Echo:] Ease.  
And what manner a mind, which had to that humour a vain? [Echo:] Vain.  
Hath not reason enough vehemence the desire to reprove? [Echo:] Prove.  
Oft prove I: but what salve, when Reason seeks to be go? [Echo:] One.  
OH what is it? what is it, that may be a salve to my love? [Echo:] love.  
What do lovers seek for, long sceking for it enjoy? [Echo:] joy.  
What be the joys, for which t' enjoy they went to the pains? [Echo:] pains.  
Than to an earnest love what doth best victory lend? [Echo:] End.  
End? but I can never end: Love will not give me the leave. [Echo:] Leave.  
How be the minds disposed, that cannot taste the Physic? [Echo:] Sick.  
Tet say again th' advice for th'ils that I told thee. [Echo:] I told thee.  
Doth th' infected wretch of his ill th' extremity know? [Echo:] No.  
But if he know not his harms, what guides hath he whilst he be blind? [Echo:] Blind.  
What blind guides can he have that leads to a fancy? [Echo:] A fancy.  
Can fancies want eyes? or he fall that steppeth alost? [Echo:] Oft.  
What causes first made these torments on me to light? [Echo:] Light.  
Can then a cause be so light, that forceth a man to go die? [Echo:] I  
Tet tell, what light thing I had in me to draw me to die? [Echo:] Eye.  
Eyesight made me to yield: but what first pierced to my eyes? [Echo:] Eyes.  
Eyes hurters? eyes hurt? but what from them to me falls? [Echo:] Falls.  
But when I first did fall, what brought most fall to my heart? [Echo:] Arte.  
Art? what can be that art, which thou dost mean by thy speech? [Echo:] Speech.  
What be the fruits of speaking art, what grows by the words? [Echo:] Words.  
OH much more than words: those words served more me to bless. [Echo:] Less.  
OH when shall I be known, where most to be known I do long? [Echo:] Long.  
Long by thy woes for such bad news: how recks she my thoughts? [Echo:] Ought.  
Than, than what do I gain, since vnt'her will I do wind? [Echo:] Wind.  
Wind, tempests, and scorns: yet in end what gives she desire? [Echo:] Ire.  
Silly reward: yet above women hath she a title. [Echo:] A tittle.  
What great name may I give to so heavenly a woman? [Echo:] A woman.  
Woc, but seems to me joy, that agrees to my thought so. [Echo:] I thought so.  
Think so: for of my desired bliss it is only the course. [Echo:] Course.  
Cursed be thyself for cursing that, which leads me to joys. [Echo:] T'oyes.  
What be the sweet creatures where lowly demands be not hard? [Echo:] Hard.  
Hard to be got, but got constant, to be held very steels. [Echo:] eels.  
How be they held unkind? Speak, for thoust narrowly pry'de. [Echo:] Pride.  
How can pride come there since springs of beauty be thence? [Echo:] Thence.  
Horrible is this blasphemy unto the most holy. [Echo:] OH lie.  
Thou list, false Echo, their minds, as virtue, be just. [Echo:] just.  
Mockest thou those Diamonds, which only bematcht by the Gods? [Echo:] Odds.  
Odds? what an odds is there, since them to the heavens I prefer? [Echo:] Err.  
Tell yet again, how name ye the goodly made evil? [Echo:] A devil.  
Devil? where hell if such Devil is, to that hell I do go. [Echo:] Go.   
After this well placed Echo, the other shepherds were offering themselves to have continued the sports: But the night had so quietly spent most part of herself, that the King for that time licenced them: & so bringing Zelmane to her lodging, who would much rather have done the same for Philoclea, of all sides they went to counterfeit a sleep in their beds, for a true one their agonies could not afford them. Yet there lay they (for so might they be most solitary) for the food of their thoughts, till it was near noon the next day. After which Basilius was to continued his Apollo devotions, and the other to meditate upon their private desires.   
The end of the second Book.   

THE third BOOK OF THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKES ARCADIA.  

CHAP. 1.  
Dorus-his ¹ fair and ² soul weather in his love. ³ His forlorn agonies. ⁴ His doubts to writ, ⁵ and Pamelaes' to read, ⁶ his elegy.  
THis last days danger, argument key no. 1 having made Pamelaes' love discern, what a loss it should have suffered, if Dorus had been destroyed, bred such tenderness of kindness in her toward him: that she could no longer keep Love from looking through her eyes, and going forth in her words; whom before as a close prisoner she had to her heart only committed; so as sinding not only by his speeches & letters, but by the pitiful oration of a languishing behaviour, & the easily discyphered character of a sorrowful face, that Despair began now to threaten him destruction, she grew content both to pity him, and let him see she pitied him: as well by making her own beautiful beams thaw away the former icinesse of her behaviour, as by entertaining his discourses (whensoever he did use them) in the third person of Musidorus; to so far a degree, that in the end she said, that if she had been the Princess, whom that disguised Prince had virtuously loved, she would have requited his faith with faithful affection: finding in her heart, that nothing could so heartily love as virtue: with many mo words to the same sense of noble favour, & chaste plainness. Which when at the first it made that expected bliss shine upon Dorus; he was like one frozen with extremity of cold, over hastily brought to a great fire, rather oppressed, then relieved with such a lightning of felicity. But after the strength of nature had made him able to feel the sweetness of joyfulness, that again being a child of Passion, & never acquainted with mediocrity, could not set bounds upon his happiness, nor be content to give Desire a kingdom, but that it must be an unlimited Monarchy. So that the ground he stood upon being over-high in happiness, & slippery through affection, he could not hold himself from falling into such an error, which with sighs blew all comfort out of his breast, & washed away all cheerfulness of his cheer, with tears. For this favour filling him with hope, Hope encouraging his desire, & Desire considering nothing, but opportunity: one time (Mopsa being called away by her mother, & he left alone with Pamelia) the sudden occasion called Love, & that never stayed to ask Reasons leave; but made the too-much loving Dorus take her in his arms, offering to kiss her, and, as it were, to establish a trophy of his victory.  
argument key no. 2 But she, as if she had been ready to drink a wine of excellent taste & colour, which suddenly she perceived had poison in it, so did she put him away from her: looking first unto heaven, as amazed to found herself so beguiled in him; then laying the cruel punishment upon him of angry Love, and lowering beauty, showing disdain, & a despising disdain, Away (said she) unworthy man to love, or to be loved. Assure thyself, I hate myself for being so deceived; judge than what I do thee, for deceiving me. Let me see thee no more, the only fall of my judgement, and stain of my conscience. With that she called Mopsa, not staying for any answer (which was no other, but a flood of tears, which she seemed not to mark much less to pity) & chid her for having so left her alone.  
It was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow, but it argument key no. 3 was even a death, which then laid hold of Dorus: which certainly at that instant would have killed him, but that the fear to tarry longer in her presence (contrary to her commandment) gave him life to carry himself away from her sight, and to run into the woods, where, throwing himself down at the foot of a tree, he did not fall to lamentation, for that proceeded of pitying) or grieving for himself (which he did no way) but to curses of his life, as one that detested himself. For finding himself not only unhappy, but unhappy after being salne from all happiness: and to be fallen from all happiness, not by any misconceiving, but by his own fault, and his fault to be done to no other but to Pamela: he did not tender his own estate, but despised it; greedily drawing into his mind, all conceits which might more and more torment him. And so remained he two days in the woods, disdaining to give his body food, or his mind comfort, loving in himself nothing, but the love of her. And indeed that love only strove with the fury of his anguish, telling it, that if it destroyed Dorus, it should also destroy the image of her that lived in Dorus: and when the thought of that was crept in unto him, it begun to win of him some compassion to the shrine of the image, & to bewail not for himself (whom he hated) but that so notable a love should perish. Then began he only so far to wish his own good, as that Pamels might pardon him the fault, though not the punishment: & the uttermost height he aspired unto, was, that after his death, she might yet pity his error, and know that it proceeded of love, and not of boldness.  
argument key no. 4 That conceit found such friendship in his thoughts, that at last he yielded, since he was banished her presence, to seek some means by writing to show his sorrow, & testify his repentance. Therefore getting him the necessary instruments of writing, he thought best to counterfaire his hand (fearing that as already she knew his, she would cast it away as soon as she seen it) and to put it in vers, hoping, that would draw her on to read the more, choosing the Elegiac as fittest for mourning. But pen did never more quakingly perform his office; never was paper more double moistened with ink & tears; never words more slowly married together, & never the Muses more tired, than now with changes & rechanges of his devices: fearing how to end, before he had resolved how to begin, mistrusting each word, condemning each sentence. This word was not significant, that word was too plain: this would not be conceived; the other would be il conceived. Here Sorrow was not enough expressed; there he seemed too much for his own sake to be sorry. This sentence rather showed art, than passion; that sentence rather foolishly passionate, then forcibly moving. At last, marring with mending, and putting out better, than he left, he made an end of it; & being ended, & diverse times ready to tear it: till his reason assuring him, the more he studied, the worse it grew, he folded it up, devoutly invoking good acceptation unto it; and watching his time, when they were all go one day to dinner (saving Mopsa) to the other lodge, stolen up into Pamelaes' chamber, and in her standish (which first he kissed; and craved of it a safe and friendly keeping) left it there, to be seen at her next using her ink (himself returning again to be true prisoner to desperate sorrow) leaving her standish upon her bed's head, to give her the more occasion to mark it: which also fell out.  
For she finding it at her after noone-returne, in another argument key no. 5 place than she left it, opened it. But when she seen the letter, her heart gave her from whence it come. And therefore clapping it to again, she went away from it, as if it had been a contagious garment of an infected person: and yet was not long away, but that she wished she had read it, though she were loathe to read it. Shall I (said she) second his boldness so far, as to read his presumptuous letters? And yet (said she) he sees me not to grow the bolder thereby: And how can I tell, whither they be presumptuous? The paper come from him, and therefore not worthy to be received; and yet the paper (she thought) was not guilty. At last, she concluded, it were not much amiss to look it over, that she might out of his words pick some further quarrel against him. Than she opened it, and threw it away, and took it up again, till (ere she were ware) her eyes would needs read it, containing this matter.  

argument key no. 6 Unto a caitiff wretch, whom long affliction holdeth,  
and now fully believes help to be quite perished;  
Grant yet, grant yet a look, to the last monument of his anguish,  
OH you (alas so I found) cause of his only ruine.  
Dread not a whit (OH goodly cruel) that pity may enter  
into thy heart by the sight of this Epistle I sand:  
And so refuse to behold of these strange wounds the recital,  
lest it might th' allure home to thyself to return,  
(Unto thyself I do mean those graces devil so within thee,  
gratefulness, sweetness, holy love, hearty regard)  
Such thing cannot I seek (Despair hath given me my answer  
despair most tragical clause to a deadly request)  
Such thing cannot he hope, that knows thy determinat hardness;  
hard like a rich marble: hard, but a fair Diamond.  
Can those eyes that of eyes drowned in most hearty flowing tears,  
(tears and tears of a man) had no return to remorse;  
Can those eyes now yield to the kind conceit of a sorrow,  
which ink only relates, but ne laments, ne replies?  
Ah, that, that I do I not conceive (though that to my bliss were)  
more than Nestor's years, more than a King's diadem.  
Ah, that, that I do not conceive; to the heaven when a mouse climbs  
then may I hope t' achieve grace of a heavenly tiger.  
But, but alas, like a man condemned doth crave to be heard speak  
not that he hopes for amendss of the desaster he feels,  
But finding th' approach of death with an ugly relenting,  
gives an adieu to the world, as to his only delight:  
Right so my boiling heart, enflamed with fire of a fair eye,  
bubbling out doth breath signs of his hugy dolours:  
Now that he finds to what end his life and love be reserved,  
and that he hence must part where to live only he loved.  
OH fair, OH fairest, are such the triumphs to thy fairness?  
can death beauty become? must be such a monument?  
Must I be only the mark, shall prove that Virtue is angry?  
Shall prove that fierceness can with a white dove abide?  
Shall to the world appear that faith and love be rewarded  
with mortal disdain, bend to unendly revenge?  
Unto revenge? OH sweet, on a wretch wilt thou be revenged?  
shall such high Planets end to the loss of a worm?  
And to revenge who do bend, would in that kind be revenged,  
as th'offence was done, and go beyond if he can.  
All my 'offence was Love: with Love then must I be chastened,  
and with more, by the laws that to Revenge do belong.  
If that love be a fault, more fault in you to be lovely:  
Love never had me oppressed, but that I seen to be loved.  
You be the cause that I loved: what Reason blameth a shadow,  
that with a bodied goes? since by a body it is.  
If that Love you did hate, you should your beauty have hidden:  
you should those fair eyes have with a veil covered.  
But fool, fool that I am, those eyes would shine from a dark cave.  
what veils then do prevail, but to a more miracle?  
Or those golden locks, those locks which lock me to bondage,  
torn you should disperse unto the blasts of a wind.  
But fool, fool that I am, though I had but a hair of her head found,  
even as I am, so I should unto that hair be a thrall.  
Or with fair hands-nailes (o hand which nails me to this death)  
you should have your face (since Love is ill) blemished.  
OH wretch, what do I say? should that fair face be defaced?  
should my too-much sight cause so true a Sun to be lost?  
First let Cimmerian darkness be my onel habitaco'n:  
first be my eyes pulled out, first be my brain perished;  
E'er that I should consent to do such excessive a damage  
unto the earth, by the hurt of this her heavenly jewel.  
OH not: but such love you say you could have afoorded,  
as might learn Temperance void of a rages events.  
OH sweet simplicity: from whence should Love so be learned?  
unto Cupid that boy shall a Pedante be found?  
Well: but faulty I was: Reason to my Passion yielded,  
Passion unto my rage, Rage to a hasty revenge.  
But what's this for a fault, for which such fault is abolished,  
Such faith, so staineles, inviolate, violent?  
Shall I not? o may I not thus yet refresh the remembrance,  
what sweet joys I had once, and what a place I did hold?  
Shall I not once object, that you, you granted a favour  
unto the man, whom now such miseries you award?  
bend your thoughts to the dear sweet words which them to me given were:  
think what a world is now, think who hath altered her heart.  
What? was I then worthy such good, now worthy such evil?  
now fled, then cherished? then so nigh, now so remote?  
Did not a rosed breath, from lips more rosy proceeding,  
say, that I should well find in what a care I was had?  
With much more: now what do I find, but Care to abhor me,  
Care that I sink in grief, Care that I live banished?  
And banished do I live, nor now will seek a recourie,  
since so she will, whose will is to me more than a law.  
If then a man in most ill case may give you a farewell;  
farewell, long farewell, all my woe, all my delight.    

CHAP. 2.  
¹ The young Ladies met: ² invited to the countrie-wenches sports, ³ go thither, ⁴ there are taken, and thence carried to Amphialus castle. ⁵ Their entertainment there. ⁶ Cecropias' auricular confession of her proud carriage in prosperity, ⁷ and ambitious practices in adversity. ⁸ Amphialus his affection in these actions.  
WHat this would have wrought in her, she herself could not tell: for, argument key no. 1 before her Reason could moderate the disputation between Favour & Faultiness, her sister, and Miso, called her down to entertain Zelmane, who was come to visit the two sisters; about whom, as about two Poles, the Sky of Beauty was turned: while Gynoecia wearied her bed with her melancholy sickness, and made Misos shrewdness (who like a spirit, set to keep a treasure, bard Zelmane from any further conference) to be the Lieutenant of her jealousy: Both she and her husband, driving Zelmane to such a straight of resolution, either of impossible granting, or dangerous refusing, as the best escape she had, was (as much as she could) to avoid their company. So as, this day, being the fourth day after the uproar, (Basilius being with his sick wife, conferring upon such examinations, as Philanax, and other of his noblemen had made of this late sedition, all touching Cecropia with vehement suspicion of giving either flame or fuel unto it) Zelmane come with her body, to found her mind, which was go long before her, & had gotten his seat in Philoclea: who now with a bashful cheerfulness (as though she were ashamed, that she could not choose but be glad) joined with her sister, in making much of Zelmane.  
And so as they sat devising how to give more feathers argument key no. 2 to the wings of Time, there come to the lodge door, six maids, all in one livery of skarlette petticoats, which were tucked up almost to their knees, the petticoats themselves being in many places garnished with leaves, their legs naked, saving that above the ankles they had little black silk laces, upon which did hung a few silver belles: like which they had a little above their elbows, upon their bore arms. Upon their hair they ware garlands of roses and gilly-flowers; and the hair was so dressed, as that come again above the garlands; enterchaunging a mutual covering: so as it was doubtful, whither the hair dressed the garlands, or the garlands dressed the hair. Their breasts liberal to the eye: the face of the foremost of of them, in excellency fair; and of the rest lovely, if not beautiful: and beautiful would have been, if they had not suffered greedy Phoebus, over-often, and hard, to kiss them. Their countenances full of a graceful gravity; so as the gesture matched with the apparel, it might seem a wanton modesty, and an enticing soberness. Each of them had an instrument of music in their hands, which consorting their well-pleasing tunes, did charge each ear with unsensibleness, that did not lend itself unto them. The Music entering alone into the lodge, the Ladies were all desirous to see from whence so pleasant a guest was come: and therefore went out together; where, before they could take the pains to doubt, much less to ask the question of their quality, the fairest of them (with a gay, but yet discreet demeanour) in this sort spoke unto them. Most excellent Ladies, (whose excellencies have power to make cities envy these woods, and solitariness to be accounted the sweetest company) vouchsafe our message your gracious hearing, which as it comes from Love, so comes it from lovely persons. The maids of all this coast of Arcadia, understanding the often access that certain shepherds of these quarters, are allowed to have in this forbidden place; and that their rural sports are not disdained of you, have been stirred with emulation to them, and affection to you, to bring forth some thing, which might as well breed your contentment: and therefore hoping that the goodness of their intention, & the hurtlesnes of their sex shall excuse the breach of the commandment in coming to this place unsent for, they chose out us, to invite both your princely parents, & yourselves, to a place in the woods about half a mile hence: where they have provided some such sports, as they trust your gracious acceptations will interpret to be delightful. We have been at the other lodge, but finding them there, busied in weightier affairs, our trust is, that you yet will not deny the shining of your eyes upon us.  
The Ladies stood in some doubt, whither they argument key no. 3 should go or not, jest Basilius might be angry withal. But Miso (that had been at noon of the pastorals, and had a great desire to led her old senses abroad to some pleasure) told them plainly, they should nor will nor choose, but go thither, and make the honest country people know, that they were not so squeamish as folks thought of them. The Ladies glad to be warranted by her authority; with a smiling humbleness obeyed her: Pamela only casting a seeking look, whither she could see Dorus (who poor wretch wandered half mad for sorrow in the woods, crying for pardon of her, who could not hear him) but indeed was grieved for his absence, having given the wound to him through her own heart. But so the three Ladies & Miso went with those six Nymphs, conquering the length of the way with the force of music, leaving only Mopsa behind, who disgraced weeping with her countenance, because her mother would not suffer her to show her newskoured face among them. But the place appointed (as they thought) met them half in their way, so well were they pleased with the sweet tunes and pretty conversation of their inviters. There found they in the midst of the thickest part of the wood, a little square place, not burdened with trees, but with a board covered, & beautified with the pleasantest fruits, that Sunburnd Autumn could deliver unto them. The maids besought the Ladies to sit down, and taste of the swelling grapes, which seemed great with child of Bacchus: & of the divers coloured plums, which gave the eye a pleasant taste before they come to the mouth. The Ladies would not show to scorn their provision, but eat, and drank a little of their cool wine, which seemed to laugh for joy to come to such lips.  
argument key no. 4 But after the collation was ended, and that they looked for the coming forth of such devices, as were prepared for them, there rushed out of the woods twenty armed men, who round about environed them, & laying hold of Zelmane before she could draw her sword, and taking it from her, put hoods over the heads of all four, and so muffled, by force set them on horseback and carried them away; the sisters in vain crying for succour, while Zelmane's heart was rend in pieces with rage of the injury, and disdain of her fortune. But when they had carried them a four or five mile further, they left Miso with a gag in her mouth, and bound hand and foot, so to take her fortune: and brought the three Ladies (by that time that the Night seemed with her silence to conspire to their treason) to a castle about ten mile of from the Lodges: where they were feign to take a boat which waited for them. For the castle stood in the midst of a great lake, upon a high rock, where partly by Art, but principally by Nature, it was by all men esteemed impregnable.  
But at the Castle gate their faces were discovered, argument key no. 5 and there were met with a great number of torches, after whom the sisters knew their aunt in law, Cecropia. But that sight increased the deadly terror of the Princess, looking for nothing but death, since they were in the power of the wicked Cecropia: who yet come unto them, making courtesy the outside of mischief, and desiring them not to be discomforted: for they were in a place dedicated to their service. Philoclea (with a look where Love shined through the mist of Fear) besought her to be good unto them, having never deserved evil of her. But Pamela's high heart disdaining humbleness to injury, Aunt, (said she) what you have determined of us I pray you do it speedily: for my part I look for no service, where I find violence.  
But Cecropia (using no more words with them) conveyed them all three to several lodgings (Zelmane's heart so swelling with spite, that she could not bring forth a word) and so left them: first taking from them their knives, because they should do themselves no hurt, before she had determined of them: and then giving such order that they wanted nothing but liberty, & comfort, she went to her son, who yet kept his bed, because of his wound he had received of Zelmane, & told him, whom now he had in his power. Amphialus was but even then returned from far countries, where he had won immortal fame, both of courage & courtesy, when he met with the Princesses, and was hurt by Zelmane, so as he was utterly ignorant of all his mother's wicked devices; to which he would never have consented, being (like a rose out of a brier) an excellent son of an evil mother: and now when he heard of this, was as much amazed, as if he had seen the Sun fall to the earth. And therefore desired his mother that she would tell him the whole discourse, how all these matters had happened.  
argument key no. 6 Son (said she) I will do it willingly, and since all is done for you, I will hide nothing from you. And howsoever I might be ashamed to tell it strangers, who would think it wickedness, yet what is done for your sake (how evil soever to others) to you is virtue. To begin then even with the beginning, this doting fool Basilius that now reigns, having lived unmarried till he was nigh threescore years old (and in all his speeches affirming, and in all his doings assuring, that he never would marry) made all the eyes of the country to be bend upon your father, his only brother (but then younger by thirty years) as upon the undoubted successor: being indeed a man worthy to reign, thinking nothing enough for himself: where this goose (you see) puts down his head, before there be any thing near to touch him. So that he holding place and estimation as heir of Arcadia, obtained me of my father the King of Argos, his brother helping to the conclusion, with protesting his bachelerly intention: for else you may be sure the King of Argos, nor his daughter would have suffered their Royal blood to be stained with the base name of subjection. So that I come into this country as apparent Princess thereof, and accordingly was courted, and followed of all the Ladies of this country. My port and pomp did well become a King of Argos daughter: in my presence their tongues were turned into ears, & their cares were captives unto my tongue. Their eyes admired my Majesty, & happy was he or she, on whom I would suffer the beams thereof to fall. Did I go to church? it seemed the very Gods waited for me, their devotions not being solemnized till I was ready. Did I walk abroad to see any delight? Nay, my walking was the delight itself: for to it was the concourse; one thrusting upon another, who might show himself most diligent and serviceable towards me: my sleeps were inquired after, and my wake never unsaluted: the very gate of my house full of principal persons, who were glad, if their presents had received a grateful acceptation. And in this felicity wert thou borne, the very earth submitting itself unto thee to be trodden on as by his Prince; and to that pass had my husbands virtue (by my good help) within short time brought it, with a plot we laid, as we should not have needed to have waited the tedious work of a natural end of Basilius; when the heavens (I think envying my great felicity) them stopped thy father's breath, when he breathed nothing but power and sovereignty. Yet did not thy orphancie, or my widowhood, deprive us of the delightful prospect, which the hill of honour doth yield, while expectation of thy succession did bind dependencies unto us.  
But before, (my son) thou wert come to the age argument key no. 7 to feel the sweetness of authority, this beast (whom I can never name with patience) falsely and foolishly married this Gynoecia, than a young girl, and brought her to sit above me in all feasts, to turn her shoulder to me-ward in all our solemnities. It is certain, it is not so great a spite to be surmounted by strangers, as by ones own allies. Think then what my mind was, since withal there is no question: The fall is greater from the first to the second, then from the second to the undermost. The rage did swell in my heart, so much the more as it was feign to be suppressed in silence, & disguised with humbleness. But above all the rest, the grief of grieves was, when with these daughters (now thy prisoners) she cut of all hope of thy succession. It was a tedious thing to me; that my eyes should look lower than any bodies, that (my self being by) another's voice than my, should be more respected. But it was insupportable unto me, to think that not only I, but thou shouldst spend all thy time in such misery, & that the Sun should see my eldest son less than a Prince. And though I had been a saint I could not choose, finding the change this change of fortune bred unto me, for now from the multitude of followers, silence grew to be at my gate, & absence in my presence. The guess of my mind could prevail more before, than now many of my earnest requests. And thou (my dear son) by the fickle multitude no more than any ordinary person (borne of the mud of the people) regarded. But I (remembering that in all miseries weeping becomes fools, and practise wise folks) have tried divers means to pull us out of the mire of subjection. And though many times Fortune failed me, yet did I never fail myself. Wild beasts I kept in a cave hard by the lodges, which I caused by night to be fed in the place of their pastorals, I as then living in my house hard by the place, and against the hour they were to meet (having kept the beasts without meat) then let them lose, knowing that they would seek their food there, and devour what they found. But blind Fortune hating sharpsighted inventions, made them unluckily to be killed. After, I used my servant Clinias to stir a notable tumult of country people: but those louts were too gross instruments for delicate conceits. Now lastly, finding Philanax-his examinations grow dangerous, I thought to play double or quit; & with a sleight I used of my fine-witted wench Artesia, with other maids of my, would have sent these good inheritrixes of Arcadia, to have pleaded their cause before Pluto, but that over-fortunatly for them, you made me know the last day how vehemently this childish passion of love doth torment you. Therefore I have brought them unto you, yet wishing rather hate than love in you. For Hate often begetteth victory; Love commonly is the instrument of ' ' subjection. It is true, that I would also by the same practice have entrapped the parents, but my maids failed of it, not daring to tarry long about it. But this sufficeth, since (these being taken away) you are the undoubted inheritor, and Basilius will not long overlive this loss.  
OH mother (said Amphialus) speak not of doing them argument key no. 8 hurt, no more then to my eyes, or my heart, or if I have any thing more dear than eyes, or heart unto me. Let others find what sweetness they will in ever fearing, because they are ever feared: for my part, I will think myself highly entitled, if I may be once by Philoclea accepted for a servant. Well (said Cecropia) I would I had borne you of my mind, as well as of my body: then should you not have sunk under base weaknesses. But since you have tied your thoughts in so wilful a knot, it is happy I have brought matters to such a pass, as you may both enjoy affection, and upon that build your sovereignty. Alas (said Amphialus) my heart would feign yield you thanks for setting me in the way of felicity, but that fear kills them in me, before they are fully borne. For if Philoclea be displeased, how can I be pleased? if she count it unkindness, shall I give tokens of kindness? perchance she condemns me of this action, and shall I triumph? perchance she drowns now the beauties I love with sorrowful tears, and where is then my rejoicing? You have reason (said Cecropia with a feigned gravity) I will therefore sand her away presently, that her contentment may be recovered. Not good mother (said Amphialus) since she is here, I would not for my life constrain presence, but rather would I die then consent to absence. Pretty intricat follies (said Cecropia) but get you up, & see how you can prevail with her, while I go to the other sister. For after we shall have our hands full to defend ourselves, if Basilius hap to besiege us. But remembering herself, she turned back, & asked him what he would have done with Zelmane, since now he might be revenged of his hurt. Nothing but honourably, answered Amphialus, having deserved no other of me, especially being (as I hear) greatly cherished of Philoclea. And therefore I could wish they were lodged together. OH not (said Cecropia) company confirms resolutions, & loneliness breeds a weariness of ones thoughts, and so a sooner consenting to reasonable proffers.   

CHAP. 3.  
¹ Amphialus addressing him to Philoclea. ² Her melancholy habit. ³ His humble suit. ⁴ Her pitiful answer: ⁵ and his compassionate reply. ⁶ Their parting with cold comfort.  
But Amphialus (taking of his mother argument key no. 1 Philoclea's knives, which he kept as a relic, since she had worn them) got up, and calling for his richest apparel, nothing seemed sumptuous enough for his mistress' eyes: and that which was costly, he feared were not dainty: and though the invention were delicate, he misdoubted the making. As careful he was too of the colour; jest if gay, he might seem to glory in his injury, and her wrong; if mourning, it might strike some evil presage unto her of her fortune. At length he took a garment more rich than glaring, the ground being black velvet, richly embroidered with great pearl, & precious stones, but they set so among certain tufts of cypress, that the cypress was like black clouds, through which the stars might yield a dark lustre. About his neck he ware a broad & gorgeous collar; whereof the pieces interchangeably answering; the one was of Diamonds and pearl, set with a white enamel, so as by the cunning of the workman it seemed like a shining ice, and the other piece being of Rubies, and Opals, had a fiery glistering, which he thought pictured the two passions of Fear and Desire, wherein he was enchained. His hurt (not yet fully well) made him a little halt, but he strove to give the best grace he could unto his halting.  
argument key no. 2 And in that sort he went to Philoclea's chamber: whom he found (because her chamber was overlightsome) sitting of that side of her bed which was from the window; which did cast such a shadow upon her, as a good Painter would bestow upon Venus, when under the trees she bewailed the murder of Adonis: her hands and fingers (as it were) indented one within the other: her shoulder leaning to her bed's head, and over her head a scarf, which did eclipse almost half her eyes, which under it fixed their beams upon the wall by, with so steady a manner, as if in that place they might well change, but not mend their object: and so remained they a good while after his coming in, he not daring to trouble her, nor she perceiving him, till that (a little varying her thoughts something quickening her senses) she heard him as he happened to stir his upper garment: and perceiving him, rose up, with a demeanour, where in the book of Beauty there was nothing to be read but Sorrow: for Kindness was blotted out, and Anger was never there.  
argument key no. 3 But Amphialus that had entrusted his memory with long and forcible speeches, found it so locked up in amazement, that he could pike nothing out of it, but the beseeching her to take what was done in good part, and to assure herself there was nothing but honour meant unto her person. But she making no other answer, but letting her hands fall one from the other, which before were joined (with eyes something cast aside, and a silent sigh) gave him to understand, that considering his doings, she thought his speech as full of incongruity, as her answer would be void of purpose: whereupon he kneeling down, and kissing her hand, (which she suffered with a countenance witnessing captivity, but not kindness) he besought her to have pity of him, whose love went beyond the bounds of conceit, much more of uttering: that in her hands the balance of his life or death did stand; whereto the lest motion of hers would serve to determine, she being indeed the mistress of his life, and he her eternal slave; and with true vehemency besought her that he might hear her speak, whereupon she suffered her sweet breath to turn itself into these kind of words.  
Alas cousin, (said she) what shall my tongue be argument key no. 4 able to do, which is informed by the ears one way, and by the eyes another? You call for pity, and use cruelty; you say, you love me, and yet do the effects of enmity. You affirm your death is in my hands, but you have brought me to so near a degree to death, as when you will, you may lay death upon me: so that while you say I am mistress of your life, I am not mistress of my own. You entitle yourself myslave, but I am sure I am yours. If then violence, injury, terror, and depriving of that which is more dear than life itself, liberty, be fit orators for affection, you may expect that I will be easily persuaded. But if the dearness of our kindred breed any remorse in you, or there be any such thing in you, which you call love toward me, then let not my fortune be disgraced with the name of imprisonment: let not my heart waste itself by being vexed with feeling cuill, and fearing worse. Let not me be a cause of my parents woeful destruction; but restore me to myself; and so doing I shall accounted I have received myself of you. And what I say for myself, I say for my dear sister, and my friend Zelmane: for I desire no well being, without they may be partakers. With that her tears reigned down from her heavenly eyes, and seemed to water the sweet and beautiful flowers of her face.  
argument key no. 5 But Amphialus was like the poor woman, who loving a tame Do she had, above all earthly things, having long played withal, and made it feed at her hand and lap, is constrained at length by famine (all her flock being spent, and she failen into extreme poverty) to kill the Dear, to sustain her life. Many a pitiful look doth she cast upon it, and many a time doth she draw back her hand before she can give the stroke. For even so Amphialus by a hunger-sterued affection, was compelled to offer this injury, and yet the same affection made him with a tormenting grief, think unkindness in himself, that he could find in his heart any way to restrain her freedom. But at length, neither able to grant, nor deny, he thus answered her. Dear lady (said he) I will not say unto you (how justly soever I may do it) that I am neither author, nor accessary unto this your withholding. For since I do not redress it, I am as faultry as if I had begun it. But this I protest unto you (and this protestation of my, let the heavens hear, and if I lie, let them answer me with a deadly thunderbolt) that in my soul I wish I had never seen the light, or rather, that I had never had a father to beget such a child, than that by my means those eyes should overflow their own beauties, then by my means the sky of your virtue should be overclowded with sorrow. But woe is me, most excellent Lady, I find myself most willing to obey you: neither truly do my ears receive the lest word you speak, with any less reverence, then as absolute, and unresistible commandments. But alas, that Tyrant Love, (which now possesseth the hold of all my life and reason) will no way suffer it. It is Love, it is Love, not I, which disobey you. What then shall I say? but that I, who am ready to lie under your feet, to venture, nay to lose my life at your least commandment: I am not the stay of your freedom, but Love, Love, which ties you in your own knots. It is you yourself, that imprison yourself: it is your beauty which makes these castlewalles embrace you: it is your own eyes, which reflect upon themselves this injury. Than is there no other remedy, but that you some way vouchsafe to satisfy this loves vehemency; which (since it grew in yourself) without question you shall find it (far more than I) tractable.  
But with these words Philoclea fell to so extreme a quaking, and her lively whiteness did degenerate to so dead a paleness, that Amphialus feared some dangerous trance: so that taking her hand, and feeling that it (which was wont to be one of the chief firebrands of Cupid) had all the sense of it wrapped up in coldness, he began humbly to beseech her to put away all fear, and to assure herself upon the vow he made thereof unto God, and herself, that the uttermost forces he would ever employ to conquer her affection, should be Desire, and Desert. That promise brought Philoclea again to herself, so that slowly lifting up her eyes upon him, with a countenance ever courteous, but then languishing, she told him, that he should do well to do so, if indeed he had ever tasted what true love was: for that where now she did bear him good will, she should (if he took any other way) hate, and abhor the very thought of him: offering him withal, that though his mother had taken away her knives, yet the house of Death had so many doors, as she would easily fly into it, if ever she found her honour endangered.  
argument key no. 6 Amphialus having the cold ashes of Care cast upon the coals of Desire, leaving some of his mother's Gentlewomen to wait upon Philoclea, himself indeed a prisoner to his prisoner, and making all his authority to be but a footstool to Humbleness, went from her to his mother. To whom with words which Affection indited, but Amazement uttered, he delivered what had passed between him and Philoclea: beseeching her to try what her persuasions could do with her, while he gave order for all such things as were necessary against such forces, as he looked daily Basilius would bring before his castle. His mother bade him quiette himself, for she doubted not to take fit times. But that the best way was, first to let her own Passion a little tire itself.   

CHAP. 4.  
¹ Amphialus warlike preparations. ² His justification. ³ His fortifications. ⁴ His Art of men. ⁵ His Love-passions, and passionate complaints.  
SO they calling Clinias, and some other argument key no. 1 of their counsel, advised upon their present affairs. First, he dispatched private letters to all those principal Lords and gentlemen of the country, whom he thought either alliance, or friendship to himself might draw; with special motions from the general consideration of duty; not omitting all such, whom either youthful age, or youthlike minds did fill with ulimited desires: besides such, whom any discontentment made hungry of change, or an over-spended want, made want a civil war: to each (according to the counsel of his mother) conforming himself after their humours. To his friends, friendliness; to the ambitious, great expectations; to the displeased, revenge; to the greedy, spoil: wrapping their hopes with such cunning, as they rather seemed given over unto them as partakers: then promises sprung of necessity. Than sent he to his mother's brother, the King of Argos: but he was as then so overlaide with war himself, as from thence he could attended small succour.  
But because he knew, how violently rumours do argument key no. 2 blow the sails of popular judgements, & how few there be, that can discern between truth and truthlikenes, between shows and substance; he caused a justification of this his action to be written, whereof were sowed abroad many copies, which with some glosses of probability, might hide indeed the foulness of his treason; and from true commonplaces, fetch down most false applications. For, beginning how much the duty which is owed to the country, goes beyond all other duties, since in itself it contains them all, and that for the respect thereof, not only all tender respects of kindred, or whatsoever other friendships, are to be laid aside, but that even long-helde opinions (rather builded upon a secret of government, than any ground of truth) are to be forsaken. He fell by degrees to show, that since the end whereto any thing is directed, is ever to be of more noble reckoning, than the thing thereto directed: that therefore, the weal-public was more to be regarded, than any person or magistrate that thereunto was ordained. The feeling consideration whereof, had moved him (though as near of kin to Basilius as could be, yet) to set principally before his eyes, the good estate of so many thousands, over whom Basilius reigned: rather than so to hoodwink himself with affection, as to suffer the realm to run to manifest ruine. The care whereof, did kindly appertain to those, who being subaltern magistrates and officers of the crown, were to be employed as from the Prince, so for the people; and of all other, especially himself, who being descended of the Royal race, and next heir male, Nature had no sorrer opened his eyes, but that the soil where-upon they did look, was to look for at his hands a continual carefulness: which as from his childhood he had ever carried; so now finding that his uncle had not only given over all care of government, but had put it into the hands of Philanax, (a man neither in birth comparable to many, nor for his corrupt, proud, and partial dealing, liked of any) but beside, had set his daughters (in whom the whole estate, as next heirs thereunto, had no less interest than himself) in so unfit & il-guarded a place, as it was not only dangerous for their persons, but (if they should be conveyed to any foreign country) to the whole commonwealth pernicious: that therefore he had brought them into this strong castle of his, which way, if it might seem strange, they were to consider; that new necessities require new remedies: but there they should be served & honoured as belonged to their greatness, until by the general assembly of the estates, it should be determined how they should to their best (both private, and public) advantage be matched; vowing all faith & duty both to the father & children, never by him to be violated. But if in the mean time, before the estates could beassembled, he were assailed, he would then for his own defence take arms: desiring all, that either tendered the dangerous case of their country, or in their hearts loved justice, to defend him in this just action. And if the Prince should command them otherwise, yet to know, that therein he was no more to be obeyed, then if he should call for poison to hurt himself withal: since all that was done, was done for his service, howsoever he might (seduced by Philanax) interpret of it: he protesting, that what soever he should do for his own defence, should be against Philanax, & no way against Basilius.  
To this effect, amplified with arguments and examples, argument key no. 3 and painted with rhetorical colours, did he sow abroad many discourses: which as they prevailed with some of more quick than sound conceit, to run his fortune with him; so in many did it breeda coolness, to deal violently against him, and a falseminded neutrality to expect the issue. But besides the ways he used to weaken the adverse party, he omitted nothing for the strengthening of his own. The chief trust whereof (because he wanted men to keep the field) he reposed in the surety of his castle; which at jest would win him much time, the mother of many mutations. To that therefore he bent his outward & inward eyes, striving to make Art strive with Nature, to whither of them two that fortification should be most beholding. The seat Nature bestowed, but Art gave the building: which as his rocky hardness would not yield to undermining force, so to open affaults he took counsel of skill, how to make all approaches, if not impossible, yet difficult; as well at the foot of the castle, as round about the lake, to give unquiet lodgings to them, whom only enmity would make neighbours. Than omitted he nothing of defence, as well simple defence, as that which did defend by offending, fitting instruments of mischief to places, whence the mischief might be most liberally bestowed. Neither was his smallest care for victuals, as well for the providing that which should suffice both in store & goodness, as in well preserving it, and wary distributing it, both in quantity, and quality; spending that first which would keep jest.  
argument key no. 4 But wherein he sharpened his wits to the pearcingest point, was touching his men (knowing them to be the weapon of weapons, & master-spring (as it were) which makes all the rest to stir; and that therefore in the Art of man stood the quintessence, & ruling skill of all prosperous government, either peaceable, or military) he chose in number as many as without pestering (and so danger of infection) his victual would seem for two year to maintain; all of able bodies, and some few of able minds to direct, not seeking many commanders, but contenting himself, that the multitude should have obeying wills, every one knowing whom he should command, and whom he should obey, the place where, and the matter wherein; distributing each office as near as he could, to the disposition of the person that should exercise it: knowing no love, danger, nor discipline can suddenly altar an habit in nature. Therefore would he not employ the still man to a shifting practice, nor the liberal man to be a dispenser of his victuals, nor the kindhearted man to be a punisher: but would exercise their virtues in sorts, where they might be profitable, employing his chief care to know them all particularly, & thoroughly, regarding also the constitution of their bodies; some being able better to abide watching, some hunger, some labour, making his benefit of each ability, & not forcing beyond power. Time to every thing by just proportion he allotted, & as well in that, as in every thing else, no small error winked at, jest greater should be animated. Even of vices he made his profit, making the cowardly Clinias to have care of the watch, which he knew his own fear would make him very wakefully perform. And before the siege began, he himself caused rumours to be sowed, and libels to be spread against himself, fuller of malice, then witty persuasion: partly, to know those that would be apt to stumble at such motions, that he might cull them from the faithfuller band; but principally, because in necessity they should not know when any such thing were in earnest attempted, whither it were, or not, of his own invention. But even then (before the enemies face come near to breed any terror) did he exercise his men daily in all their charges, as if Danger had presently presented his most hideous presence: himself rather instructing by example, than precept; being neither more sparing in travile, nor spending in diet, than the meanest soldier: his hand and body disdaining no base matters, nor shrinking from the heavy.  
argument key no. 5 The only odds was, that when others took breath, he sighed; and when others rested, he crossed his arms. For Love passing thorough the pikes of Danger, & tumbling itself in the dust of Labour, yet still made him remember his sweet desire, and beautiful image. Often when he had begun to command one, somewhat before half the sentence were ended, his inward guest did so entertain him, that he would break it of, and a pretty while after end it, when he had (to the marvel of the standers by) sent himself in to talk with his own thoughts. Sometimes when his hand was lifted up to some thing, as if with the sight of Gorgon's head he had been suddenly turned into a stone, so would he there abide with his eyes planted, and hands lifted, till at length, coming to the use of himself, he would look about whither any had perceived him; then would he accuse, and in himself condemn all those wits, that durst affirm Idleness to be the wellspring of love. OH, would he say, all you that affect the title of wisdom, by ungrateful scorning the ornaments of Nature, am I now piping in a shadow? or do slothful feathers now enwrap me? Is not hate before me, and doubt behind me? is not danger of the one side, and shame of the other? And do I not stand upon pain, and travail, and yet over all, my affection triumphs? The more I stir about urgent affairs, the more me thinks the very stirring breeds a breath to blow the coals of my love: the more I exercise my thoughts, the more they increase the appetite of my desires. OH sweet Philoclea (with that he would cast up his eyes wherein some water did appear, as if they would wash themselves against they should see her) thy heavenly face is my Astronomy; thy sweet virtue, my swect Philosophy: let me profit therein, and farewell all other cogitations. But alas, my mind misgives me, for your planets bear a contrary aspect unto me. Woe, woe is me, they threaten my destruction: and whom do they threaten this destruction? even him that loves them; and by what means will they destroy, but by loving them? OH dear (though kill) eyes, shall death head his dart with the gold of Cupid's arrow? Shall death take his aim from the rest of Beauty? OH beloved (though hating) Philoclea, how if thou be'st merciful, hath cruelty stolen into thee? Or how if thou be'st cruel, doth cruelty look more merciful than eucr Mercy did? Or alas, is it my destiny that makes Mercy cruel? Like an evil vessel which turns sweet liquor to sowernes; so when thy grace falls upon me, my wretched constitution makes it become fierceness. Thus would he exercise his eloquence, when she could not hear him, and be dumbe-striken, when her presence gave him fit occasion of speaking: so that his wit could find out no other refuge, but the comfort and counsel of his mother, desiring her (whose thoughts were unperplexed) to use for his sake the most prevailing manners of intercession.   

CHAP. 5.  
¹ subtle Cecropia visits sad Philoclea. ² The shameless Aunt's shrewd temptations to love and marriage. The modest nieces maidenly resistance.  
argument key no. 1 CEcropia sing her sons safety depend thereon, (though her pride much disdained the name of a desire) took the charge upon her, not doubting the easy conquest of an unexpert virgin, who had already with subtlety and impudency begun to undermine a monarchy. Therefore, weighing Philoclea's resolutions by the counterpoise of her own youthful thoughts, which she then called to mind, she doubted not at lest to make Philoclea receive the poison distilled in sweet liquor, which she with little disguising had drunk up thirsuly. Therefore she went softly to Philoclea's chamber, & peeping through the side of the door, then being a little open, she saw Philoclea sitting low upon a cushion, in such a given-over manner, that one would have thought, silence, solitariness, and melancholy were come there, under the ensign of mishap, to conquer delight, and drive him from his natural feat of bcautie: her tears come dropping downc like rain in Sunshine, and she not taking heed to wipe the tears, they ran down upon her cheeks, and lips, as upon cherries which the dropping tree bedeweth. In the dressing of her hair and apparel, she might see neither a careful arte, nor an art of carelessness, but even left to a neglected chance, which yet could no more unperfect her perfections, than a Dieanie way cast, could lose his squareness.  
Cecropia (stirred with no other pity, but for her son) argument key no. 2 come in, and haling kindness into her countenance, Whatayles this swecte Lady, (said she) will you mar so good eyes with weeping? Shall tears take away the beauty of that complexion, which the women of Arcadia wish for, and the men long after? Fie of this peevish sadness; in sooth it is untimely for your age. Look upon your own body, and see whither it deserve to pine away with sorrow: see whither you will have these hands (with that she took one of her hands and kissing it, looked upon it as if she were enamoured with it) fade from their whiteness, which makes one desire to touch them; & their softness, which rebounds again a desire to look on them, and become dry, lean and yellow, and make every body wonder at the change, and say, that sure you had used some art before, which now you had left? for if the beauties had been natural, they would never so soon have been blemished. Take a glass, and see whither these tears become your eyes: although, I must confess, those eyes are able to make tears comely. Alas Madam (answered Philoclea), I know not whither my tears become my eyes, but I am sure my eyes thus beteared, become my fortune. Your fortune (said Cecropia) if she could see to attire herself, would put on herbest raiments. For I see, and I see it with grief, and (to tell you true) unkindness: you misconstrue every thing, that only for your sake is attempted. You think you are offended, and are indeed defended: you esteem yourself a prisoner, and are in truth a mistress: you fear hate, and shall found love. And truly, I had a thing to say to you, but it is no matter, since I found you are so obstinately melancholy, as that you woe his fellowship: I will spare my pains, and hold my peace: And so stayed indeed, thinking Philoclea would have had a female inquisitiveness of the matter. But she, who rather wished to unknowe what she knew, then to burden her heart with more hopeless knowledge, only desired her to have pity of her, and if indeed she did mean her no hurt, then to grant her liberty: for else the very grief & fear, would prove her unappointed executioners. For that (said Cecropia) believe me upon the faith of a king's daughter, you shall be free, so soon as your freedom may be free of mortal danger, being brought hither for no other cause, but to prevent such mischiefs as you know not of. But if you think indeed to win me to have care of you, even as of my own daughter, then lend your ears unto me, & let not your mind arm itself with a wilfulness to be flexible to nothing. But if I speak reason, let Reason have his due reward, persuasion. Than sweet niece (said she) I pray you presuppose, that now, evenin the midst of your agonies, which you paint unto yourself most horrible, wishing with sighs, & praying with vows, for a soon & safe delivery. Imagine niece (I say) that some heavenly spirit should appear unto you, and bid you follow him through the door, that goes into the garden, assuring you, that you should thereby return to your dear mother, and what other delights soever your mind esteems delights: would you (sweet niece) would you refuse to follow him, & say, that if he led you not through the chief gate, you would not enjoy your over-desired liberty? Would you not drink the wine you thirst for, without it were in such a glass, as you especially fancied? tel me (dear neecc:) but I will answer for you, because I know your reason and will is such, as must needs conclude, that such niceness can no more be in you, to disgrace such a mind, than disgracefulnesse can have any place in so faultless a beauty. Your wisdom would assuredly determine, how the mark were hit, not whither the bow were of Ewe or not, wherein you shot. If this be so, and thus sure (my dear niece) it is, than (I pray you) imagine, that I am that same good Angel, who grieving in your grief, and in truth not able to suffer, that bitter sighs should be sent forth with so sweetc a breath, am come to led you, not only to your desired, and imagined happiness, but to a true and essential happiness; not only to liberty, but to liberty with commandment. The way I will show you (which if it be not the gate builded hitherto in your private choice, yet shall it be a door to bring you through a garden of pleasures, as sweet as this life can bring forth; nay rather, which makes this life to be a life: My son, (let it be no blemish to him that I name him my son, who was your fathers own nephew: for you know I am no small king's daughter,) my son (I say) far passing the nearness of his kindred, with the nearness of goodwill, and striving to match your matchless beauty with a matchless affection, doth by me present unto you the full enjoying of your liberty, so as with this gift you will accept a greater, which is, this castle, with all the rest which you know he hath, in honourable quantity; and will confirm his gift, and your receipt of both, with accepting him to be yours. I might say much both for the person and the matter; but who will cry out the Sun shines? It is so manifest a profit unto you, as the meanest judgement must strait apprehended it: so far is it from the sharpness of yours, thereof to be ignorant. Therefore (sweet niece) let your gratefulness be my intercession, & your gentleness my eloquence, and let me carry comfort to a heart which greatly needs it. Philoclea looked upon her, & cast down her eye again. Aunt (said she) I would I could be so much a mistress of my own mind, as to yield to my cousins virtuous request: for so I construe of it. But my heart is already set (and staying a while on that word, she brought forth afterwards) to led a virgin's life to my death: for such a vow I have in myself devoutly made. The heavens prevent such a mischief (said Cecropia.) A vow, quoth you? no, not, my dear niece, Nature, when you were first borne, vowed you awoman, & as she made you child of a mother, so to do your best to be mother of a child: she gave you beauty to move love; she gave you wit to know love; she gave you an excellent body to reward love: which kind of liberal rewarding is crowned with unspeakable felicity. For this, as it bindeth the receiver, so it makes happy the bestower: this doth not impoverish, but every the giver. OH the sweet name of a mother: OH the comfort of comforts, to see your children grow up, in whom you are (as it were) eternised: if you could conceive what a hart-tickling joy it is to see your own little ones, with awful love come running to your lap, and like little models of yourself, still carry you about them, you would think unkindness in your own thoughts, that ever they did rebel against the mean unto it. But perchance I set this blessedness before your eyes, as Captains do victory before their soldiers, to which they might come through many pains, grieves & dangers. Not, I am content you shrink from this my counsel, if the way to come unto it, be not most of all pleasant. I know not (answered the sweet Philoclea, fearing lest silence would offend her sullenness) what contentment you speak of: but I am sure the best you can make of it, (which is marriage) is a burdenous yoke. Ah, dear niece (said Cecropia) how much you are deceived? A yoke indeed we all bear, laid upon us in our creation, which by marriage is not increased, but thus far eased, that you have a yoke-fellow to help to draw through the cloddy cumbers of this world. OH widow-nights, bear witness with me of the difference. How often alas do I embrace the orfan-side of my bed, which was wont to be imprinted by the body of my dear husband, & with tears acknowledge, that I now enjoy such a liberty as the banished man hath; who may, if he list, wander over the world, but is ever restrained from his most delightful home? that I have now such a liberty as the seeled dou hath, which being first deprived of eyes, is then by the falconer cast off? For believe me, niece, believe me, man's experience is woman's best eyesight. Have you ever seen a pure rose-water kept in a crystal glass; how fine it looks, how sweet it smells, while that beautiful glass imprisons it? Break the prison, and let the water take his own course, doth it not embrace dust, and lose all his former sweetness, and fairness? Truly so are we, if we have not the stay, rather than the restraint of Cristailine marriage. My heart meltes to think of the sweet comforts, I in that happy time received, when I had never 'cause to care, but the care was doubled: when I never rejoiced, but that I seen my joy shine in another's eyes. What shall I say of the free delight, which the heart might embrace, without the accusing of the inward conscience, or fear of outward shame? and is a solitary life as good as this? then can one string make as good music as a consort: them can one colour set forth a beauty. But it may be, the general consideration of marriage doth not so much mislike you, as the applying of it to him. He is my son, I must confess, I see him with a mother's eyes, which if they do not much deceive me, he is no such one, over whom Contempt may make any just challenge. He is comely, he is noble, he is rich; but that which in itself should carry all comeliness, nobility, and riches, he loves you; and he loves you, who is beloved of others. Drive not away his affection (sweet Lady) and make no other Lady hereafter proudly brag, that she hath rob you of so faithful and notable a servant. Philoclea heard some pieces of her speeches, no otherwise than one doth when a tedious prattler cumbers the hearing of a delightful music. For her thoughts had left her ears in that captivity, and conveyed themselves to behold (with such eyes as imagination could lend them) the estate of her Zelmane: for whom how well she thought many of those sayings might have been used with a far more grateful acceptation. Therefore listing not to dispute in a matter whereof herself was resolute, and desired not to inform the other, she only told her, that whilst she was so captived, she could not conceive of any such persuasions (though never so reasonable) any otherwise, then as constraints: and as constraints must needs even in nature abhor them, which at her liberty, in their own force of reason, might more prevail with her: and so feign would have returned the strength of Cecropias' persuasions, to have procured freedom.   

CHAP. 6.  
¹ Fresh motives to Philoclea. ² Cecropias' new fetch to attempt Pamela. ³ Pamela's prayer, ⁴ and Sainct-like graces in it. ⁵ Her Aunts fruitless arguments.  
But neither her witty words in an argument key no. 1 enemy, nor those words, made more than eloquent with passing through such lips, could prevail in Cecropia, no more than her persuasions could win Philoclea to disavow her former vow, or to leave the prisoner Zelmane, for the commanding Amphialus. So that both sides being desirous, and neither graunters, they broke of conference. Cecropia sucking up more and more spite out of her denial, which yet for her sons sake, she disguised with a visard of kindness, leaving no office unperformed, which might either witness, or endear her sons affection. Whatsoever could be imagined likely to please her, was with liberal diligence performed: Musics at her window, & especially such Musics, as might (with doleful embassage) call the mind to think of sorrow, and think of it with sweetness; with ditties so sensibly expressing Amphialus case, that every word seemed to be but a diversifying of the name of Amphialus. Daily presents, as it were oblations, to pacify an angry Deity, sent unto her: wherein, if the workmanship of the form, had striven with the sumptuousness of the matter, as much did the invention in the application, contend to have the chief excellency: for they were as so many stories of his disgraces, & her perfections; where the richness did invite the eyes, the fashion did entertain the eyes, and the device did teach the eyes the present misery of the presenter himself, awefully serviceable: which was the more notable, as his authority was manifest. And for the bondage wherein she lived, all means vied to make known, that if it were a bondage, it was a bondage only knit in love-knots. But in heart already understanding no language but one, the Music wrought indeed a dolefulness, but it was a dolefulness to be in his power: the ditty intended for Amphialus, she translated to Zelmane: the presents seemed so many tedious clogs of a thralled obligation: and his service, the more diligent it was, the more it did exprobrate (as she thought) unto her, her unworthy estate: that even he that did her service, had authority of commanding her, only construing her servitude in his own nature, esteeming it a right, and a right bitter servitude: so that all their shots (how well soever leveled) being carried awry from the mark, by the storm of her mislike, the Prince Amphialus affectionately languished, & Cecropia spitefullie cunning, disdained at the barrenness of their success.  
argument key no. 2 Which willingly Cecropia would have revenged, but that she saw, her hurt could not be divided from her sons mischief: wherefore, she bethought herself to attempt Pamela, whose beauty being equal, she hoped, if she might be won, that her sons thoughts would rather rest on a beautiful gratefulness, then still be tormented with a disdaining beauty. Wherefore, giving new courage to her wicked inventions, and using the more industry, because she had missed in this, & taking even precepts of prevailing in Pamela, by her failing in Philoclea, she went to her chamber, & (according to her own ungracious method of a subtle proceeding) stood listening at the door, because that out of the circumstance of her present behaviour, there might kindly arise a fit beginning of her intended discourse.  
And so she might perceive that Pamela did walk up argument key no. 3 and down, full of deep (though patiented) thoughts. For her look and countenance was settled, her pace soft, and almost still of one measure, without any passionate gesture, or violent motion: till at length (as it were) awaking, & strengthening herself, Well (said she) yet this is the best, & of this I am sure, that how soever they wrong me, they cannot overmaster God. Not darkness blinds his eyes, no jail bars him out. To whom then else should I fly, but to him for succour? And therewith kneeling down, even in the same place where she stood, she thus said. OH all-seeing Light, and eternal Life of all things, to whom nothing is either so great, that it may resist; or so small, that it is contemned: look upon my misery with thy eye of mercy, and let thy infinite power vouchsafe to limit out some proportion of deliverance unto me, as to thee shall seem most convenient. Let not injury, o Lord, triumph over me, and let my faults by thy hands be corrected, and make not my unjust enemy the minister of thy justice. But yet, my God, if in thy wisdom, this be the aptest chastisement for my inexcusable folly; if this low bondage be fittest for my over-hie desires; if the pride of my not-inough humble heart, be thus to be broken, OH Lord, I yield unto thy will, and joyfully embrace what sorrow thou wilt have me suffer. Only thus much let me crave of thee, (let my craving, o Lord, be accepted of thee, since even that proceeds from thee) let me crave, even by the noblest title, which in my greatest affliction I may give myself, that I am thy creature, & by thy goodness (which is thyself) that thou wilt suffer some beam of thy Majesty so to shine into my mind, that it may still depend confidently upon thee. Let calamity be the exercise, but not the overthrow of my virtue: let their power prevail, but prevail not to destruction: let my greatness be their pray: let my pain be the sweetness of their revenge: let them (if so it seem good unto thee) vex me with more and more punishment. But, o Lord, let never their wickedness have such a hand, but that I may carry a pure mind in a pure body. (And pausing a while) And o most gracious Lord (said she) what ever become of me, preserve the virtuous Musidorus.  
argument key no. 4 The other part Cecropia might well hear, but this latter prayer for Musidorus, her heart held it, as so iewellike a treasure, that it would scarce trust her own lips withal. But this prayer, sent to heaven, from so heavenly a creature, with such a fervent grace, as if Devotion had borrowed her body, to make of itself a most beautiful representation; with her eyes so lifted to the skieward, that one would have thought they had begun to fly thetherward, to take their place among their fellow stars; her naked hands raising up their whole length, & as it were kissing one another, as if the right had been the picture of Zeal, and the left, of Humbleness, which both united themselves to make their suits more acceptable. Lastly, all her senses being rather tokens than instruments of her inward motions, altogether had so strange a working power, that even the harde-harted wickedness of Cecropia, if it found not a love of that goodness, yet it felt an abashment at that goodness; & if she had not a kindly remorse, yet had she an irksome accusation of her own naughtiness, so that she was put from the bias of her fore-intended lesson. For well she found there was no way at that time to take that mind, but with some, at least, image of Virtue, and what the figure thereof was her heart knew not.  
Yet did she prodigally spend her uttermost eloquence, argument key no. 5 leaving no argument unproved, which might with any force invade her excellent judgement: the justness of the request being, but for marriage; the worthiness of the suitor: then her own present fortune, if she would not only have amendment, but felicity: besides falsely making her believe, that her sister would think herself happy, if now she might have his love which before she contemned: and obliquely touching, what danger it should be for her, if her son should accept Philoclea in marriage, and so match the next heir apparent, she being in his power: yet plentifully periuring, how extremely her son loved her, and excusing the little shows he made of it, with the dutiful respect he bore unto her, & taking upon herself that she restrained him, since she found she could set no limits to his passions. And as she did to Philoclea, so did she to her, with the tribute of gifts, seek to bring her mind into servitude: and all other means, that might either establish a beholdingness, or at the left awake a kindness; doing it so, as by reason of their imprisonment, one sister knew not how the other was wooed; but each might think, that only she was sought. But if Philoclea with sweet and humble dealing did avoid their assaults, she with the Majesty of Virtue did beaten them of.   

CHAP. 7.  
¹ An Alarm to the Amphialians. ² Base cowardice in Clinias; ³ brave courage imaged in Amphialus. ⁴ His onset with the death of two friends his foes. ⁵ The horror of Mars-his game. ⁶ Two deaths taken where they were not looked for, the third delayed where it was expected.  
argument key no. 1 But this day their speech was the sooner broken of, by reason that he, who stood as watch upon the top of the keep, did not only see a great dust arise (which the earth sent up, as if it would strive to have clouds as well as the air) but might spy sometimes, especially when the dust (wherein the naked wind did apparel itself) was carried aside from them, the shining of armour, like flashing of lightning, wherewith the clouds did seem to be with child; which the Sun guilding with his beams, it gave a sight delightful to any, but to them that were to abide the terror. But the watch gave a quick Alarm to the soldiers within, whom practise already having prepared, began each, with unabashed hearts, or at least countenances, to look to their charge, or obedience, which was allotted unto them.  
Only Clinias and Amphialus did exceed the bounds argument key no. 2 of mediocrity: the one in his natural coldness of cowardice, the other in heat of courage. For Clinias (who was bold only in busy whisperings, and even in that whisperingnes rather indeed confident in his cunning, that it should not be bewrayed, than any way bold, if ever it should be bewrayed) now that the enemy gave a dreadful aspect unto the castle, his eyes seen no terror, nor ear heard any martial sound, but that they multiplied the hideousness of it to his mated mind. Before their coming he had many times felt a dreadful expectation, but yet his mind (that was willing to ease itself of the burden of fear) did sometimes feign unto itself possibility of let; as the death of Basilius, the discord of the nobility, & (when other cause failed him) the nature of chance served as a cause unto him: and sometimes the hearing other men speak valiantly, and the quietness of his unassailed senses, would make himself believe, that he durst do something. But now, that present danger did display itself unto his eye, & that a dangerous doing must be the only mean to prevent the danger of suffering, one that had marked him would have judged, that his eyes would have run into him, & his soul out of him; so unkindly did either take asent of danger. He thought the lake was too shallow, & the walls too thin: he misdouted each man's treason, and conjectured every possibility of misfortune, not only forecasting likely perils, but such as all the planets together could scarce have conspired: & already began to arm himself, though it was determined he should tarry within doors; and while he armed himself, imagined in what part of the vault he might hide himself, if the enemies won the castle. Desirous he was that every body should do valiantly, but himself; and therefore was afraid to show his fear, but for very fear would have hid his fear; jest it should discomfort others: but the more he sought to disguise it, the more the unsutablenes of a weak broken voice to high brave words, and of a pale shaking countenance to a gesture of animating, did discover him.  
argument key no. 3 But quite contrarily Amphialus, who before the enemies come was careful, providently diligent, and not sometimes without doubting of the issue; now the nearer danger approached (like the light of a glow-worm) the less still it seemed: and now his courage began to boil in choler, and with such impatience to desire to power out both upon the enemy, that he issued presently into certain boats he had of purpose, and carrying with him some choice men, went to the fortress he had upon the edge of the lake, which he thought would be the first thing, that the enemy would attempt; because it was a passage, which commanding all that side of of that country, & being lost would stop victual, or other supply, that might be brought into the castle: & in that fortress having some force of horsemen, he issued out with two hundred horse, & five hundred footmen, embushed his footmen in the falling of a hill, which was over shadowed with a wood, he with his horsemen went a quarter of a mile further; aside hand of which he might perceive the many troops of the enemy, who come but to take view where best to encamp themselves.  
But as if the sight of the enemy had been a Magnes argument key no. 4 stone to his courage he could not contain himself, but showing his face to the enemy, & his back to his soldiers, used that action, as his only oration, both of denouncing war to the one, and persuading help of the other. Who faithfully following an example of such authority, they made the earth to groan under their furious burden, and the enemies to begin to be angry with them, whom in particular they knew not. Among whom there was a young man, youngest brother to Philanax, whose face as yet did not bewray his sex, with so much as show of hair; of a mind having no limits of hope, nor knowing why to fear; full of jollity in conversation, and lately grown a Lover. His name was Agenor, of all that army the most beautiful: who having ridden in sportful conversation among the foremost, all armed saving that his beaver was up, to have his breath in more freedom, sing Amphialus come a pretty way before his company, neither staying the commandment of the captain, nor recking whither his face were armed, or no, set spurs to his horse, & with youthful bravery casting his staff about his head, put it then in his rest, as careful of comely carrying it, as if the mark had been but a ring, & the lookers on Ladies. But Amphialus lance was already come to the last of his descending line, and began to make the full point of death against the head of this young Gentleman, when Amphialus perceiving his youth and beauty, Compassion so rebated the edge of Choler, that he spared that fair nakedness, and let his staste fall to Agenor's vamplat: so as both with brave breaking should hurtleslie have performed that match, but that the pitiless lance of Amphialus (angry with being broken) with an unlucky counterbuff full of unsparing splinters, lighted upon that face far fit for the combats of Venus; giving not only a sudden, but a fowl death, leaving scarcely any tokens of his former beauty: but his hands abandoning the reins, and his thighs the saddle, he fellsidewarde from the horse. Which sight coming to Leontius, a dear friend of his, who in vain had lamentably cried unto him to stay, when he seen him begin his career, it was hard to say, whither pity of the one, or revenge of the other, held as then the sovereignty in his passions. But while he directed his eye to his friend, and his hand to his enemy, so wrongly-consorted a power could not resist the ready minded force of Amphialus: who perceiving his il-directed direction against him, so paid him his debt before it was lent, that he also fell to the earth, only happy that one place, & one time, did finish both their loves and lives together.  
argument key no. 5 But by this time there had been a furious meeting of either side: where after the terrible salutation of warlike noise, the shaking of hands was with sharp weapons: some lances according to the metal they met, and skill of the guider, did stain themselves in blood; some flew up in pieces, as if they would threaten heaven, because they failed on earth. But their office was quickly inherited, either by (the Prince of weapons) the sword, or by some heavy maze, orbiting axe; which hunting still the weakest chase, sought ever to light there, where smallest resistance might worse prevent mischief. The clashing of armour, and crushing of staves; the justling of bodies, the resounding of blows, was the first part of that ill-agreeing music, which was beautified with the griseliness of wounds, the rising of dust, the hideous falls, and groans of the dying. The very horses angry in their masters anger, with love and obedience brought forth the effects of hate and resistance, and with minds of servitude, did as if they affected glory. Some lay dead under their dead masters, who me unknightly wounds had unjustly punished for a faithful duty. Some lay upon their Lords by like accidents, and in death had the honour to be borne by them, whom in life they had borne. Some having lost their commanding burdens, ran scattered about the field, abashed with the madness of mankind. The earth itself (wont to be a burial of men) was now (as it were) buried with men: so was the face thereof hidden with dead bodies, to whom Death had come masked in diverse manners. In one place lay disinherited heads, dispossessed of their natural signories: in an other, whole bodies to see to, but that their heart's wont to be bound all over so close, were now with deadly violence opened: in others, fouler deaths had ouglily displayed their trailing guts. There lay arms, whose fingers yet moved, as if they would feel for him that made them feel: and legs, which contrary to common nature, by being discharged of their burden, were grown heavier. But no sword paid so large a tribute of souls to the eternal Kingdom, as that of Amphialus, who like a Tiger, from who me a company of Wolves did seek to ravish a new gotten pray; so he (remembering they come to take away Philoclea) did labour to make valour, strength, hatred, and choler to answer the proportion of his love, which was infinite.  
argument key no. 6 There died of his hands the old knight AEschylus, who though by years might well have been allowed to use rather the exercise of wisdom, then of courage; yet having a lusty body & a merry heart, he ever took the summons of Time in jest, or else it had so creepingly stolen upon him, that he had heard scarcely the noise of his feet, and therefore was as fresh in apparel, and as forward in enterprises, as a far younger man: but nothing made him bolder, than a certain prop hecie had been told him, that he should die in the arms of his son, and therefore feared the less the arm of an enemy. But now, when Amphialus sword was passed through his throat, he thought himself abused; but that before he died, his son, indeed, seeing his father begin to fall, held him up in his arms, till a pitiless soldier of the other side, with a mace brained him, making father and son become twins in their never again dying birth. As for Drialus, Memnon, Nisus and Polycrates; the first had his eyes cut out so, as he could not see to bid the near following death welcome: the second had met with the same Prophet that old AEschylus had, and having found many of his speeches true, believed this to, that he should never be killed, but by his own companions: and therefore no man was more valiant than he against an enemy, no man more suspicious of his friends: so as he seemed to sleep in security, when he went to a battle, and to enter into a battle, when he began to sleep, such guards he would set about his person; yet mistrusting the very guards, that they would murder him. But now Amphialus helped to unriddle his doubts; for he overthrowing him from his horse, his own companions coming with a fresh supply, pressed him to death. Nisus grasping with Amphialus, was with a short dagger slain. And for Polycrates, while he shunned as much as he could, keeping only his place for fear of punishment, Amphialus with a memorable blow struck his head, where, with the convulsions of death setting his spurs to his horse, he gave so brave a charge upon the enemy, as it grew a proverb, that Polycrates was only valiant, after his head was off. But no man escaped so well his hands as Phebilus did: for he having long loved Philoclea, though for the meanness of his estate he never durst reveal it, now knowing Amphialus, setting the edge of a rival upon the sword of an enemy, he held strong fight with him. But Amphialus had already in the daungerousest places disarmed him, and was lifting up his sword to send him away from him, when he thinking indeed to die, OH Philoclea (said he) yet this joys me, that I die for thy sake. The name of Philoclea first stayed his sword, and when he heard him out, though he abhorred him much worse than before, yet could he not vouchsafe him the honour of dying for Philoclea, but turned his sword another way, doing him no hurt for overmuch hatred. But what good did that to poor Phebilus, if escaping a valiant hand, he was slain by a base soldier, who seeing him so disarmed, thrust him through?   

CHAP. 8.  
The Basilians reembattelled ¹ first by Philanax, ⁴ then by the black Knight. ² Ismenus slain by Philanax. ³ Philanax captived by Amphialus. ⁴ The black Knights exploits. ⁵ His encounter with Amphialus, parted by a by-blow. ⁶ The Amphialians retreat, and departure of the black Knight.  
argument key no. 1 THus with the well-followed valour of Amphialus were the other almost overthrown, when Philanax (who was the marshal of the army) come in, with new force renewing the almost decayed courage of his soldiers. For, crying to them (and ask them whither their backs or their arms were better fighters) he himself thrust into the press, and making force and fury wait upon discretion and government, he might seem a brave Lion, who taught his young Lionets, how in taking of a pray, to join courage with cunning. Then Fortune (as if she had made chases enough of the one side of that bloody Teniscourt) went of the other side the line, making as many fall down of Amphialus followers, as before had done of Philanaxis; they losing the ground, as fast as before they had won it, only leaving them to keep it, who had lost themselves in keeping it. Than those that had killed, inherited the lot of those that had been killed; and cruel Death made them lie quietly together, who most in their lives had sought to disquiet each other; and many of those first overthrown, had the comfort to see the murderers overrun them to Charon's ferry.  
Codrus, Ctesiphon, and Milo, lost their lives upon Philanax argument key no. 2 his sword: but no bodies case was more pitied, then of a young esquire of Amphialus, called Ismenus, who never abandoning his master, and making his tender age aspire to acts of the strongest manhood, in this time that his side was put to the worst, and that Amphialushis' valour was the only stay of them from delivering themselves over to a shameful flight, he saw his master's horse killed under him. Whereupon, ask no advise of no thought, but of faithfulness and courage, he presently lighted from his own horse, and with the help of some choice and faithful servants, got his master up. But in the multitude that come of either side, some to secure, some to save Amphialus, he come under the hand of Philanax: and the youth perceiving he was the man that did most hurt to his party, (desirous even to change his life for glory) struck at him, as he road by him, and gave him a hurt upon the leg, that made Philanax turn towards him; but sing him so young, & of a most lovely presence, he rather took pity of him; meaning to make him prisoner, & then to give him to his brother Agenor to be his companion, because they were not much unlike, neither in years, nor countenance. But as he looked down upon him with that thought, he spied where his brother lay dead, & his friend Leontius by him, even almost under the squires feet. Then soroing not only his own sorrow, but the past-comfort sorrow, which he foreknew his mother would take, (who with many tears, & misgiving sighs had suffered him to go with his elder brother Philanax) blotted out all figures of pity out of his mind, and putting forth his horse (while Ismenus doubled two or three more valiant, then well set blows) saying to himself, Let other mothers bewail an untimely death as well as my; he thrust him through. And the boy fierce though beautiful; & beautiful, though dying, not able to keep his failing feet, fell down to the earth, which he bitten for anger, repining at his Fortune, and as long as he could resisting Death, which might seem unwilling to; so long he was in taking away his young struggling soul.  
argument key no. 3 Philanax himself could have wished the blow ungiven, when he seen him fall like a fair apple, which some uncourteous body (breaking his bow) should throw down before it were ripe. But the case of his brother made him forget both that, and himself: so as overhastily pressing upon the retiring enemies, he was (ere he was ware) further engaged than his own soldiers could relieve him; were being overthrown by Amphialus, Amphialus glad of him, kept head against his enemies while some of his men carried away Philanax.  
argument key no. 4 But Philanax-his men as if with the loss of Philanax they had lost the fountain of their valour, had their courages so dried up in fear; that they began to set honour at their backs, and to use the virtue of patience in an untimely time: when into the press comes (as hard as his horse, more afraid of the spur, than the sword could carry him) a Knight in armour as dark as blackness could make it, followed by noon, and adorned by nothing; so far without authority that he was without knowledge. But virtue quickly made him known, and admiration bred him such authority, that though they of whose side he come knew him not, yet they all knew it was fit to obey him: and while he was followed by the valiantest, he made way for the vilest. For, taking part with the besiegers, he made the Amphialians blood serve for a caparison to his horse, and a decking to his armour. His arm no oftener gave blows, than the blows gave wounds, than the wounds gave deaths: so terrible was his force, and yet was his quickness more forcible than his force, and his judgement more quick than his quickness. For though the sword went faster than eyesight could follow it, yet his own judgement went still before it. There died of his hand, Sarpedon, Plistonax, Strophilus, and Hippolytus, men of great proof in wars, and who had that day undertaken the guard of Amphialus. But while they sought to save him, they lost the fortresses that Nature had placed them in. Then slew he Megalus, who was a little before proud, to see himself stained in the blood of his enemies: but when his own blood come to be married to theirs, he then felt, that Cruelty doth never enjoy a good cheap glory. After him sent he Palemon, who had that day vowed (with foolish bravery) to be the death of ten: and nine already he had killed, and was careful to perform his (almost performed) vow, when the Black Knight helped him to make up the tenth himself.  
And now the often-changing Fortune began also argument key no. 5 to change the hew of the battles. For at the first, though it were terrible, yet Terror was decked so bravely with rich furniture, guilt swords, shining armours, pleasant pencils, that the eye with delight had scarce leisure to be afraid: But now all universally defiled with dust, blood, broken armours, mangled bodies, took away the mask, and set forth Horror in his own horrible manner. But neither could danger be dreadful to Amphialus his undismayable courage, nor yet seem ugly to him, whose truely-affected mind, did still paint it over with the beauty of Philoclea. And therefore he, rather inflamed then troubled with the increase of dangers, and glad to find a worthy subject to exercise his courage, sought out this new Knight, whom he might easily find: for he, like a wanton rich man, that throws down his neighbour's houses, to make himself the better prospect, so had his sword made him so spacious a room, that Amphialus had more cause to wonder at the finding, than labour for the seeking: which, if it stirred hate in him, to see how much harm he did to the one side, it provoked as much emulation in him, to perceive how much good he did to the other side. Therefore, they approaching one to the other, as in two beautiful folks, Love naturally stirs a desire of joining, so in their two courages Hate stirred a desire of trial. Than began there a combat between them, worthy to have had more large lists, and more quiet beholders: for with the spur of Courage, and the bit of Respect, each so guided himself, that one might well see, the desire to overcome, made them not forget how to overcome: in such time & proportion they did employ their blows, that noon of Ceres servants could more cunningly place his flail: while the left foot spur set forward his own horse, the right set backward the contrary horse, even sometimes by the advantage of the enemies leg, while the left hand (like him that held the stern) guy dead the horses obedient courage: All done in such order, that it might seem, the mind was a right Prince indeed, who sent wise and diligent Lieutenants into each of those well governed parts. But the more they fought, the more they desired to fight; and the more they smarted, the less they felt the smart: and now were like to make a quick proof, to whom Fortune or Valour would seem most friendly, when in comes an old Governor of Amphialus, always a good Knight, and careful of his charge; who giving a sore wound to the black Knight's thigh, while he thought not of him, with an other blow slew his horse under him. Amphialus cried to him, that he dishonoured him: You say well (answered the old Knight) to stand now like a private soldier, setting your credit upon particular fighting, while you may see Basilius with all his host, is getting between you and your town.  
He looked that way, and found that true indeed, argument key no. 6 that the enemy was beginning to encompass him about, and stop his return: and therefore causing the retreat to be sounded, his Governor led his men homeward, while he kept himself still bindmoste, as if he had stood at the gate of a sluice, to let the stream go, with such proportion, as should seem good unto him: and with so manful discretion performed it, that (though with loss of many of his men) he returned in himself safe, and content, that his enemies had felt, how sharp the sword could bite of Philoclea's Lover. The other party being sorry for the loss of Philanax, was yet sorrier when the black Knight could not be found. For he having gotten on a horse, whom his dying master had bequeathed to the world, finding himself sore hurt, and not desirous to be known, had in the time of the enemies retiring, retired away also: his thigh not bleeding blood so fast, as his heart bledde revenge. But Basilius having attempted in vain to bar the safe return of Amphialus, encamped himself as strongly as he could, while he (to his grief) might hear the joy was made in the town by his own subjects, that he had that day sped no better. For Amphialus (being well beloved of that people) when they saw him not vanquished, they esteemed him as victorious, his youth setting a flourishing show upon his worthiness, and his great nobility ennobling his dangers.   

CHAP. 9  
¹ The Love-divining dream of Amphialus song to Philoclea. ² Philanax his captivity, and deaths-doome, ³ for Philoclea's sake turned to life and liberty. ⁴ His loyal answer of his Lord's intents. ⁵ Cecropias' arts to persuade the sisters.  
But the first thing Amphialus did, being returned, was to visit Philoclea, and first presuming to 'cause his dream to be song unto her (which he had seen the night before he fell in love with her) making a fine boy he had, accord a pretty dolefulness unto it. The song was this.  

argument key no. 1 NOw was our heavenly vault deprived of the light  
With Suns departed: and now the darkness of the night  
Didlight those beamy stars which greater light did dark:  
Now each thing that enjoyed that fiery quickening spark  
(Which life is called) were moaned their spirits to repose,  
And warning use of eyes their eyes began to close:  
A silence sweet each where with one consent embraced  
(Amusique sweet to one in careful musing placed)  
And mother Earth, now clad in mourning weeds, did breathe  
A dull desire to kiss the image of our death:  
When I, disgraced wretch, not wretched then, did give  
My senses such relief, as they which quiet live,  
Whose brains broil not in woes, nor breasts with beat ache,  
With nature's praise are wont in safest home to take.  
Far from my thoughts was aught, whereto their minds aspire,  
Who under courtly pomps do hatch a base desire.  
Free all my powers were frem those captining snares,  
Which heavenly purest gifts defile in muddy cares.  
Ne could my soul itself accuse of such a sault,  
As tender conscience might with furious pangs assault.  
But like the feeble flower (whose stalk cannot sustain  
His weighty top) his top downward drooping lean:  
Or as the silly bird in well acquainted nesnt  
Doth hide his head with cares but only how to rest:  
So I in simple course, and unentangled mind  
Did suffer drowsy lids my eyes then clear to blind;  
And laying down my head, did nature's rule obserne,  
Which senses up doth shut the senses to preserve.  
They first their use forgot, then fancies lost their force;  
Till deadly sleep at length possessed my living corpse.  
A living corpse I lay: but ah, my wakeful mind  
(Which made of heavenly stusfe no mortal channge doth blind)  
Flow up with clear wings of fleshly bondage free;  
And having placed my thoughts, my thoughts thus placed me.  
Methought, nay sure I was, I was in fairest wood  
Of Samothea land; a land, which whilom stood  
An honour to the world, while Honour was their end,  
And while their lime of years they did in virtue spend.  
But there I was, and there my calmy thoughts I fed  
On Nature's sweet repast, as healthful senses led.  
Her gifts my study was, her beauties were my sport:  
My work her works to know, her dwelling my resort.  
Those lamps of heavenly fire to fixed motion bound,  
The ever-turning spheres, the never-moving ground;  
What essence dest'nie hath; if fortune be or no;  
Whence our immortal souls to mortal earth do flow:  
What life it is, and how that all these lives do gather,  
With outward makers force, or like an inward father.  
Such thoughts, me thought, I thought, and strained my single mind  
Than voided of nearer cares, the depth of things to found.  
When lo with hugest noise (such noise a tower makes  
When it blown down with wind a fall of ruin takes)  
(Or such a noise it was, as highest thunders send,  
Or canons thunderlike, all shot together, lend)  
The Moon a sunder rend; whereout with sudden fall  
(Moore swift than falcons stoop to feeding Falconers call)  
There come a chariot fair by doves and sparrows guided:  
Whose stormlike course stayed not till hard by me it bided.  
I wretch astonished was, and thought the deathful doom  
Of heaven, of earth, of bell, of time and place was come.  
But strength there issued forth two Ladies (Ladies sure  
They seemed to me) on whom did wait a Virgin pure:  
Strange were the Lady's weeds; yet more unfit than strange.  
The first with clotheses tucked up as Nymphs in woods do range;  
Tucked up even with the knees, with bow and arrows priest:  
Her right arm naked was, discovered was her breast.  
But heavy was her pace, and such a meager cheer,  
As little hunting mind (God knows) did there appear.  
The other had with art (more than our women know,  
As stuff meant for the sale set out to glaring show)  
A wanton woman's face, and with curled knots had twined  
Her hair, which by the help of painters cunning, shined.  
When I such guests did see come out of such a house,  
The mountains great with child I thought brought forth a mouse.  
But walking forth, the first thus to the second said,  
Venus come on: said she, Diane you are obeyed.  
Those names abashed me much, when those great names I hard:  
Although their fame (me seemed) from truth had greatly iard.  
As I thus musing stood, Diana called to her  
The waiting Nymph, a Nymph that did excel as far  
All things that erst I saw, as orient pearls exceed,  
That which their mother height, or else their silly seed.  
Indeed a perfect haw, indeed a sweet consent  
Of all those Grace's gifts the heavens have ever lent.  
And so she was attired, as one that did not prise  
Too much her peerless parts, nor yet could them despise.  
But called, she come apace; a pace wherein did move  
The band of beauties all, the little world of love.  
And bending humbled eyes (o eyes the Sun of sight)  
She waited mistress will: who thus disclosed her sprite.  
Sweet Mira mine (quoth she) the pleasure of my mind,  
In whom of all my rules the perfect proof I find,  
To only thee thou seest we grant this special grace  
Us to attended, in this most private time and place.  
Be silent therefore now, and so be silent still  
Of that thou seest: close up in secret knot thy william.  
She answered was with look, and well performed behest:  
And Mira I admired: her shape sunk in my breast.  
But thus with iresull eyes, and face that shook with site  
Diana did begin. What moved me to invite  
Your presence (sister dear) first to my Moony sphere,  
And hither now, vouchsafe to take with willing ear.  
I know full well you know, what discord long bathe reigned  
Betwixt us two; how much that discord soul hath stained  
Both our estates, while each the other did deprave,  
Proof speaks too much to us that feeling trial have.  
Our names are quite forgot, our temples are defaced:  
Our offerings spoilt, our priest from priesthood are displaced  
Is this the fruit of strife? those thousand churches high,  
Those thousand altars fair now in the dust to lie?  
In mortal minds our minds but planets names preserve:  
Not knees once bowed, for soothe, for them they say we serve.  
Are we their servants grown? no doubt a noble stay:  
Celestial powers to worms, Ioues children serve to clay.  
But such they say we be: this praise our discord bred,  
While we for mutual spite a striving passion fed.  
But let us wiser be; and what soul discord broke,  
So much more strong again let fasntest concord make.  
Our years do it require: you see we both do feel  
The weakening work of Times for ever-whirling wheel.  
Although we be divine, our grandsire Saturn is  
With ages force decayed, yet once the heaven was his.  
And now before we seek by wise Apollo's skill  
Our young years to renew (for so he saith he will)  
Let us a perfect peace between us two resolve:  
Which jest the ruinous want of government dissolve;  
Let one the Princess be, to her the other yield:  
For vain equality is but contentious field.  
And let her have the gifts that should in both remain:  
In her let beauty both, and chasteness fully reign.  
So as if I prevail, you give your gifts to me:  
If you, on you I lay what in my office be.  
Now resteth only this, which of us two is she,  
To whom precedence shall of both accorded be.  
For that (so that you like) hereby doth lie a youth  
(She beckoned unto me) as yet of spotless truth,  
Who may this doubt discern: for better, wit, than lot  
Becometh us: in us fortune determines not.  
This crown of amber fair (an amber crown she held)  
To worthiest let him give, when both he bathe beheld:  
And be it as he saith. Venus was glad to hear  
Such proffer made, which she well showed with smiling cheer.  
As though she were the same, as when by Paris doom  
She had chief Goddesses in beauty overcome.  
And smirkly thus 'gan say. I never sought debate  
Diana dear; my mind to love and not to hate  
Was ever apt: but you my pastimes did despise.  
I never spited you, but thought you overwise.  
Now kindness proffered is, noon kinder is then I:  
And so most ready am this mean of peace to try.  
And let him be our judge: the lad doth please me well.  
Thus both did come to me, and both began to tell  
(For both together spoke, each loathe to be behind)  
That they by solemn oath their Deities would bind  
To stand unto my will: their will they made me know.  
I that was first aghast, when first I seen their show:  
Now bolder waxed, waxed proud, that I such sway must bear:  
For near acquaintance doth diminish reverent fear.  
And having bound them fast by Styx, they should obey  
To all what I decreed, did thus my verdict say.  
How ill both you can rule, well hath your discord taught:  
Ne yet for aught I see, your beauty's merit aught.  
To yonder Nymph therefore (to Mira I did point)  
The crown above you both for ever I appoint.  
I would have spoken out: but out they both did cry;  
Fie, fie, what have we done? ungodly rebel fie.  
But now we needs must yield, to that our oaths require.  
Yet thou shalt not go free (quoth Venus) such a fire  
Her beauty kindle shall within thy foolish mind,  
That thou full often shalt wish thy judging eyes were blind.  
Nay then (Diana said) the chasteness I will give  
In ashes of despair (though burnt) shall make thee live.  
Nay thou (said both) shalt see such beams shine in her face  
That thou shalt never dare seek help of wretched case.  
And with that cursed curse away to heaven they fled,  
First having all their gifts upon fair Mira spread.  
The rest I cannot tell, for therewithal I waked  
And found with deadly fear that all my sinews shaked.  
Was it a dream? OH dream, how hast thou wrought in me,  
That I things erst unseen should first in dreaming see?  
And thou o traitor Slcepe, made for to be our rest,  
How hast thou sramde the pain wherewith I am oppressed?  
OH coward Cupid thus dost thou thy honour keep,  
Unarmed (alas) unwares to take a man asleep?   
Laying not only the conquests, but the heart of the conqueror at her feet. *** But she receiving him after her wonted sorrowful (but otherwise unmoved) manner, it made him think, his good success was but a pleasant monument of a doleful burial: joy itself seeming bitter unto him, since it agreed not to her taste.  
argument key no. 2 Therefore, still craving his mother's help to persuade her, he himself sent for Philanax unto him, whom he had not only long hated, but now had his hate greatly increased by the death of his Squire Ismenus. Besides he had made him as one of the chief causes that moved him to this rebellion, and therefore was inclined (to colour the better his action, and the more to imbrue the hands of his accomplices by making them guilty of such a trespass) in some formal sort to 'cause him to be executed: being also greatly egged thereunto by his mother, and some other, who long had hated Philanax, only because he was more worthy to be loved than they.  
But while that deliberation was handled, according argument key no. 3 rather to the humour then the reason of each speaker, Philoclea coming to knowledge of the hard plight wherein Philanax stood, she desired one of the gentlewomen appointed to wait upon her, to go in her name, and beseech Amphialus, that if the love of her had any power of persuasion in his mind, he would lay no further punishment, than imprisonment, upon Philanax. This message was delivered even as Philanax was entering to the presence of Amphialus, coming (according to the warning was given him) to receive a judgement of death. But when he with manful resolution attended the fruit of such a tyrannical sentence, thinking it wrong, but no harm to him that should die in so good a cause; Amphialus turned quite the form of his pretended speech, and yielded him humble thanks, that by his means he had come to that happiness, as to receive a commandment of his Lady: and therefore he willingly gave him liberty to return in safety wither he would; quitting him, not only of all former grudge, but assuring him that he would be willing to do him any friendship, and service: only desiring thus much of him, that he would let him know the discourse and intent of Basilius-his proceeding.  
argument key no. 4 Truly my Lord (answered Philanax) if there were any such known to me secret in my masters counsel, as that the revealing thereof might hinder his good success, I should loathe the keeping of my blood, with the loss of my faith; and would think the just name of a traitor a hard purchase of a few years living. But since it is so, that my master hath indeed no way of privy practice, but means openly and forcibly to deal against you, I will not stick in few words to make your required declaration. Than told he him in what amaze of a mazement, both Basilius and Gynoecia were, when they missed their children and Zelmane. Sometimes apt to suspect some practice of Zelmane, because she was a stranger; sometimes doubting some relics of the late mutiny, which doubt was rather increased, than any way satisfied, by Miso: who (being found, almost dead for hunger, by certain country-people) brought home word, with what cunning they were trained out, and with what violence they were carried away. But that within a few days they come to knowledge where they were, with Amphialushis own letters sent abroad to procure confederates in his attempts. That Basilius-his purpose was never to leave the siege of this town, till he had taken it, and revenged the injury done unto him. That he meant rather to win it by time, and famine, then by force of assault: knowing how valiant men he had to deal withal in the town: that he had sent order, that supplies of soldiers, pioneers, and all things else necessary, should daily be brought unto him: so as, my Lord (said Philanax) let me now (having received my life by your grace) let me give you your life and honour by my counfaile; protesting unto you, that I cannot choose but love you, being my maister-his nephew; and that I wish you well in all causes: but this, you know his nature is as apt to forgive, as his power is able to conquer. Your fault passed is excusable, in that Love persuaded, and youth was persuaded. Do not urge the effects of angry victory, but rather seek to obtain that constantly by courtesy, which you can never assuredly enjoy by violence. One might easily have seen in the cheer of Amphialus, that disdainful choler would feign have made the answer for him, but the remembrance of Philoclea served for forcibie barriers between Anger, and angry effects: so as he said no more, but that he would not put him to the trouble to give him any further counsel: But that he might return, if he lifted, presently. Philanax glad to receive an uncorrupted liberty, humbly accepted his favourable convoy out of the town; and so departed, not having visited the Princesses, thinking it might be offensive to Amphialus, and no way fruitful to them, who were no way but by force to be relieved.  
The poor Ladies indeed, not suffered either to argument key no. 5 meet together, or to have conference with any other, but such as Cecropia had already framed to sing all their songs to her tune, she herself omitting no day, and catching hold of every occasion to move forward her sons desire, and remove their known resolutions: using the same arguments to the one sister, as to the other; determining that whom she could win first, the other should (without her sons knowledge) by poison be made away. But though the reasons were the same to both, yet the handling was diverse, according as she saw their humours to prefer a more or less aptness of apprehension: this day having used long speech to Philoclea, amplifying not a little the great dutifulness her son had showed in delivering Philanax: of whom she could get no answer, but a silence sealed up in virtue, and so sweetly graced, as that in one instant it carried with it both resistance, and humbleness.   

CHAP. 10.  
¹ Pamela's exercise. Cecropias' talk with her ² of Beauty ³ and the use thereof. ⁴ The Aunts Atheism ⁵ resuted by the nieces Divinity  
argument key no. 1 CEcropia threatening in herself to run a more ragged race with her, went to her sister Pamela: who that day having wearied herself with reading, and with the height of her heart disdaining to keep company with any of the Gentlewomen appointed to attend her, whom she accounted her iaylours, was working upon a purse certain Roses and Lilies, as by the fineness of the work, one might see she had borrowed her wits of the sorrow that owed them, & lent them wholly to that exercise. For the flowers she had wrought, carried such life in them, that the cunningest painter might have learned of her needle: which with so pretty a manner made his careers to & fro through the cloth, as if the needle itself would have been loathe to have go froward such a mistress, but that it hoped to return thenceward very quickly again: the cloth looking with many eyes upon her, & lovingly embracing the wounds she gave it: the shears also were at hand to behead the silk, that was grown to short. And if at any time she put her mouth to bite it off, it seemed, that where she had been long in making of a Rose with her hand, she would in an instant make Roses with her lips; as the Lilies seemed to have their whiteness, rather of the hand that made them, then of the matter whereof they were made; and that they grew there by the suns of her eyes, & were refreshed by the most in discomfort comfortable air, which an unwares sigh might bestow upon them. But the colours for the ground were so well chosen, neither sullenly dark, nor glaringly lightsome, and so well proportioned, as that, though much cunning were in it, yet it was but to serve for an ornament of the principal work; that it was not without marvel to see, how a mind which could cast a careless semblant upon the greatest conflicts of Fortune, could command itself to take care for so small matters. Neither had she neglected the dainty dressing of herself: but as it had been her marriage time to Affliction, she rather seemed to remember her own worthiness, than the unworthiness of her husband. For well one might perceive she had not rejected the counsel of a glass, and that her hands had pleased themselves, in paying the tribute of undeccyving skill, to so high perfections of Nature.  
argument key no. 2 The sight whereof so diverse from her sister, (who rather sustered Sorrow to dress itself in her beauty, then that she would bestow any entertainment of so unwelcome a guest) made Cecropia take a sudden assuredness of hope, that she should obtain somewhat of Pamela: thinking (according to the squaring out of her own good nature) that beauty, carefully set forth, would soon prove a sign of an unrefusing harborough. Animated wherewith, she fate down by Pamela: and taking the purse, and with affected curiosity looking upon the work, Full happy is he (said she) at lest if he knew his own happiness, to whom a purse in this manner, and by this hand wrought, is dedicated. In faith he shall have cause to accounted it, not as a purse for treasure, but as a treasure itself, worthy to be pursed up in the purse of his own heart. And think you so indeed (said Pamela half smiling) I promise' you I wrought it, but to make some tedious hours believe, that I thought not of them: for else I valued it, but even as a very purse. It is the right nature (said Cecropia) of Beauty, to work unwitting effects of wonder. Truly (said Pamela) I never thought till now, that this outward glass, entitled Beauty, which it pleaseth you to lay to my (as I think) unguilty charge, was but a pleasant mixture of natural colours, delightful to the eye, as music is to the ear, without any further consequence: since it is a thing, which not only beasts have; but even stones and trees many of them do greatly excel in it. That other things (answered Cecropia) have some portion of it, takes not away the excellency of it, where indeed it doth excel: since we see, that even those beasts, trees, & stones, are in the name of Beauty only highly praised. But that the beauty of humane persons be beyond all other changs there is great likelihood of reason, since to them only is given the judgement to discern Beauty; and among reasonable wights, as it seems, that our fex hath the pre-eminence, so that in that pre-eminence, Nature countervails all other liberalities, wherein she may be thought to have dealt more favourably toward mankind. How do men crown (think you) themselves with glory, for having either by force brought others to yield to their mind, or with long study, and premeditated orations, persuaded what they would have persuaded? and see, a fair woman shall not only command without authority, but persuade without speaking. She shall not need to procure attention, for their own eyes will chain their ears unto it. Men venture lives to conquer; she conqueres lives without venturing. She is served, and obeyed, which is the most notable, not because the laws so command it, but because they become laws to themselves to obey her; not for her parent's sake, but for her own sake. She need not dispute, whither to govern by Fear, or by Love, since without her thinking thereof, their love will bring forth fear, and their fear will fortify their love: and she need not seek offensive, or defensive force, since her lips may stand for ten thousand shields, and ten thousand unevitable shot go from her eyes. Beauty, Beauty (dear Niece) is the crown of the feminine greatness; which gift, on whom soever the heavens (therein most niggardly) do bestow, without question, she is bound to use it to the noble purpose, for which it is created: not only winning, but preserving; since that indeed is the right happiness, which is not only in itself happy, but can also derive the happiness to another. Certainly Aunt (said Pamela) I fear me you will make me not only think myself fairer than ever I did, but think my fairness a matter of greater value than heretofore I could imagine it. For I ever (till now) conceived these conquests you spoke of, rather to proceed from the weakness of the conquered, then from the strength of the conquering power: as they say, the Cranes overthrow whole battles of Pigmies, not so much of their Cranish courage, as because the other are Pigmies: and that we see, young babes think babies of wonderful excellency, and yet the babies are but babies. But since your elder years, and abler judgement, find Beauty to be worthy of so incomparable estimation, certainly me thinks, it aught to be held in dearness, according to the excellency, and (no more than we would do of things which we accounted precious) ever to suffer it to be defiled.  
argument key no. 3 Defiled? (said Cecropia) Mary God forbidden that my speech should tend to any such purpose, as should deserve so foula title. My meaning is to join your beauty to love; your youth to delight. For truly, as colours should be as good as nothing, if there were no eyes to behold them: so is Beauty nothing, without the eye of Love behold it: and therefore, so far is itfrom defiling it, that it is the only honouring of it, the only preferuing of it: for Beauty goes away, devoured by Time, but where remains it ever flourishing, but in the heart of a true loer? And such a one (if ever there were any) is my son: whose love is so subjecteth unto you, that rather than breed any offence unto you, it will not delight itself in beholding you. There is no effect of his love (answered Pamela) better pleaseth me then that: but as I have often answered you, so, resolutely I say unto you, that he must get my parents consent, & then he shall know further of my mind; for, without that, I know I should offend God. OH sweet youth (said Cecropia) how untimely subject it is to devotion? Not, no sweet niece, let us old folks think of such precise considerations, do you enjoy the heaven of your age, where of you are sure: and like good householders, which spend those things that will not be kept, so do you pleasantly enjoy that, which else will bring an over-late repentance, when your glass shall accuse you to your face, what a change there is in you. Do you see how the spring-time is full of flowers, decking itself with them, & not aspiring to the fruits of Autumn? what lesson is that unto you, but that in the april of your age, you should be like April? Let not some of them, for whom already the grave gapeth, & perhaps envy the felicity in you, which themselves cannot enjoy, persuade you to loose the hold of occasion, while it may not only be taken, but offers, nay sues to be taken: which if it be not now taken, will never hereafter be overtaken. Yourself know, how your father hath refused all offers made by the greatest Princes about you, & will you suffer your beauty to be hid in the wrinkles of his peevish thoughts? If he be peevish (said Pamela) yet is he my father, & how beautiful soever I be, I am his daughter: so as God claims at my hands obedience, and makes me no judge of his imperfections.  
argument key no. 4 These often replies upon conscience in Pamela, made Cecropia think, that there was no righter way for her, then as she had (in her opinion) set her in liking of Beauty, with persuasion not to suffer it to be void of purpose, so if she could make her less feeling of those heavenly conceits, that then she might easily wind her to her crooked bias. Therefore, employing the uttermost of her mischievous wit, and speaking the more earnestly, because she spoke as she thought, she thus dealt with her. Dear niece, or rather, dear daughter, if my affection and wish might prevail therein, how much doth it increase (trow you) the earnest desire I have of this blessed match, to see these virtues of yours knit fast with such zeal of Devotion (indeed the best bond) which the most politic wits have found, to hold man's wit in well doing? For, as children must first by fear be induced to know that, which after (when they do know) they are most glad of: So are these bugbears of opinions brought by great clerk into the world, to serve as shewelles to keep them from those faults, whereto else the vanity of the world, and weakness of senses might pull them. But in you (Niece) whose excellency is such, as it need not to be held up by the staff of vulgar opinions, I would not you should love Virtue seruillie, for fear of I know not what, which you see not: but even for the good effects of virtue which you see. Fear, and indeed, foolish fear, and fearful ignorance, was the first inventor of those conceits. For, when they heard it thunder, not knowing the natural cause, they thought there was some angry body above, that spoke so loud: and ever the less they did perceive, the more they did conceive. Whereof they knew no cause that grew strength a miracle: foolish folks, not marking that the alterations be but upon particular accidents, the universality being always one. Yesterday was but as to day, and to morrow will tread the same footsteps of his foregoers: so as it is manifest enough, that all things follow but the course of their own nature, saving only Man, who while by the pregnancy of his imagination he strives to things supernatural, meanwhile he loseth his own natural felicity. Be wise, and that wisdom shallbe a God unto thee; be contented, and that is thy heaven: for else to think that those powers (if there be any such) above, are moved either by the eloquence of our prayers, or in a chafe by the folly of our actions; carries asmuch reason as if flies should think, that men take great care which of them hums sweetest, and which of them flies nimblest.  
She would have spoken further to have enlarged & argument key no. 5 confirmed her discourse: but Pamela (whose cheeks were died in the beautifullest grain of virtuous anger, with eyes which glisteren forth beams of disdain) thus interrupted her. Peace (wicked woman) peace, unworthy to breath, that dost not acknowledge the breathgiver; most unworthy to have a tongue, which speakest against him, through whom thou speakest: keep your affection to yourself, which like a bemired dog, would defile with fawning. You say yesterday was as to day. OH foolish woman, and most miserably foolish, since wit makes you foolish. What doth that argue, but that there is a constancy in the everlasting governor? Would you have an inconstant God, since we count a man foolish that is inconstant? He is not seen you say, and would you think him a God, who might be seen by so wicked eyes, as yours? which yet might see enough if they were not like such, who for sport-sake willingly hood-wincke themselves to receive blows the easier. But though I speak to you without any hope of fruit in so rotten a heart, and there be no body else here to judge of my speeches, yet be thou my witness, OH captivity, that my ears shall not be willingly guilty of my Creator's blasphemy. You say, because we know not the causes of things, therefore fear was the mother of superstition: nay, because we know that each effect hath a cause, that hath engendered a true & lively devotion. For this goodly work of which we are, and in which we live, hath not his being by Chance; on which opinion it is beyond marvel by what chance any brain could stumble. For if it be eternal (as you would seem to conceive of it) Eternity, & Chance are things unsufferable together. For that is chanceable which happeneth; & if it happen, there was a time before it happened, when it might not have happened; or else it did not happen; and so of chanceable, not eternal, as now being, them not being. And as absurd it is to think that if it had a beginning, his beginning was derived from Chance: for Chance could never make all things of nothing: and if there were substances before, which by chance should meet to make up this work, thereon follows another bottomless pit of absurdities. For then those substances must needs have been from ever, and so eternal: and that eternal causes should bring forth chanceable effects, is as sensible, as that the Sun should be the author of darkness. Again, if it were chanceable, then was it not necessary; whereby you take away all consequents. But we see in all things, in some respect or other, necessity of consequence: therefore in reason we must needs know that the causes were necessary.  
Lastly, Chance is variable, or else it is not to be called Chance: but we see this work is steady and permanent. If nothing but Chance had glued those pieces of this All, the heavy parts would have go infinitely downward, the light infinitely upward, and so never have met to have made up this goodly body. For before there was a heaven, or a earth, there was neither a heaven to stay the height of the rising, nor an earth, which (in respect of the round walls of heaven) should become a centre. Lastly, perfect order, perfect beauty, perfect constancy, if these be the children of Chance, or Fortune the efficient of these, let Wisdom be counted the root of wickedness, and eternity the fruit of her inconstancy. But you will say it is so by nature, as much as if you said it is so, because it is so: if you mean of many natures conspiring together, as in a popular government to establish this fair estate; as if the Elementishe and ethereal parts should in their townhouse set down the bounds of each one's office; then consider what follows: that there must needs have been a wisdom which made them concur: for their natures being absolute contrary, in nature rather would have sought each others ruin, then have served as well consorted parts to such an unexpressible harmony. For that contrary things should meet to make up a perfection without a force and Wisdom above their powers, is absolutely impossible; unless you will fly to that hissed-out opinion of Chance again. But you may perhaps affirm, that one universal Nature (which hath been for ever) is the knitting together of these many parts to such an excellent unity. If you mean a Nature of wisdom, goodness, & providence, which knows what it doth, then say you that, which I seek of you, and cannot conclude those blasphemies, with which you defiled your mouth, & my ears. But if you mean a Nature, as we speak of the fire, which goeth upward, it knows not why: and of the nature of the Sea which in ebbing and flowing seems to observe so just a dance, and yet understands no music, it is but still the same absurdity subscribed with another title. For this word, one, being attributed to that which is All, is but one mingling of many, and many ones; as in a less matter, when we say one kingdom which contains many cities; or one city which contains many persons, wherein the under once (if there be not a superior power and wisdom) cannot by nature regard to any preservation but of themselves: no more we see they do, since the water willingly quenches the fire, and drowns the earth; so far are they from a conspired unity: but that a right heavenly Nature indeed, as it were unnaturing them, doth so bridle them.  
Again, it is as absurd in nature that from an unity many contraries should proceed still kept in an unity: as that from the number of contrarieties an unity should arise. I say still, if you banish both a singularity, and plurality of judgement from among them, then (if so earthly a mind can lift itself up so high) do but conceive, how a thing whereto you give the highest, and most excellent kind of being (which is eternity) can be of the base and vilest degree of being, and next to a not-being; which is so to be, as not to enjoy his own being? I will not here call all your senses to witness, which can hear, nor see nothing, which yields not most evident evidence of the unspeakeablenesse of that Wisdom: each thing being directed to an end, and an end of preservation: so proper effects of judgement, as speaking, and laughing are of mankind.  
But what mad fury can ever so enueagle any conceit, as to see our mortal and corruptible selves to have a reason, and that this universality (whereof we are but the least pieces) should be utterly devoid thereof? as if one should say, that one's foot might be wise, and himself foolish. This heard I once alleged against such a godless mind as yours, who being driven to acknowledge these beastly absurdities, that our bodies should be better than the whole world, if it had the knowledge, where of the other were void; he sought (not able to answer directly) to shift it of in this sort: that if that reason were true, then must it follow also, that the world must have in it a spirit, that could writ and read to, and be learned; since that was in us so commendable: wretched fool, not considering that Books be but supplies of defects; and so are praised, because they help our want, and therefore cannot be incident to the eternal intelligence, which needs no recording of opinions to confirm his knowledge, no more than the Sun wants wax to be the fuel of his glorious lightfulnesse. This world therefore cannot otherwise consist but by a mind of Wisdom, which governs it, which whither you will allow to be the Creator thereof, as undoubtedly he is, or the soul and governor thereof, most certain it is that whither he govern all, or make all, his power is above either his creatures, or his government. And if his power be above all things, then consequently it must needs be infinite, since there is nothing above it to limit it. For beyond which there is nothing, must needs be boundless, and infinite: if his power be infinite, then likewise must his knowledge be infinite: for else there should be an infinite proportion of power which he should not know how to use; the unsensibleness whereof I think even you can conceive: and if infinite, then must nothing, not not the estate of flies (which you with so unsavoury scorn did jest at) be unknown unto him. For if it were, than there were his knowledge bounded, and so not infinite: if knowledge and power be infinite, then must needs his goodness and justice march in the same rank: for infiniteness of power, & knowledge, without like measure of goodness, must necessarily bring forth destruction and ruin, and not ornament and preservation. Since then there is a God, and an all-knowing God, so as he sees into the darkest of all natural secrets, which is the heart of Man; and sees therein the deepest dissembled thoughts, nay sees the thoughts before they be thought: since he is just to exercise his might, and mighty to perform his justice, assure thyself, most wicked woman (that hast so plaguily a corrupted mind, as thou canst not keep thy sickness to thyself, but must most wickedly infect others) assure thyself, I say, (for what I say depends of everlasting and unremooveable causes) that the time will come, when thou shalt know that power by feeling it, when thou shalt see his wisdom in the manifesting thy ugly shamelessness, and shalt only perceive him to have been a Creator in thy destruction.   

CHAP. 11.  
¹ Cecropia malcontent, still practiseth. ² The besiegers discipline, and attempts of the besieged. ³ Phalantus challengeth ⁴ by Letter Amphialus: ⁵ who by Letter accepteth it. ⁶ Amphialus ⁷ and Phalantus militar accoutrements. ⁸ Their fo-like combat, ⁹ but friendly conclusion.  
THus she said, thus she ended, with argument key no. 1 so fair a majesty of unconquered virtue, that captivity might seem to have authority over tyranny: so foully was the filthiness of impiety discovered by the shining of her unstained goodness, so far, as either Cecropia seen indeed, or else the guilty amazement of her selfe-accusing conscience, made her eyes untrue judges of their natural object, that there was a light more than humane, which gave a lustre to her perfections. But Cecropia, like a Bat (which though it have eyes to discern that there is a Sun, yet hath so evil eyes, that it cannot delight in the Sun) found a truth, but could not love it. But as great persons are wont to make the wrong they have done, to be a cause to do the more wrong, her knowledge rose to no higher point, but to envy a worthier, and her will was no otherwise bend, but the more to hate, the more she found her enemy provided against her. Yet all the while she spoke (though with eyes cast like a horse that would strike at the stirrup, and with colour which blushed through yellowness) she sat rather stillthen quiet, and after her speech rather muttered, then replied: for the war of wickedness in herself, brought forth disdainful pride to resist cunning dissunulation; so as, saying little more unto her, but that she should have leisure enough better to bethink herself; she went away repining, but not repenting: condemning greatly (as she thought) her sons over-feeble humbleness, and purposing to egg him forward to a course of violence. For herself, determining to deal with neither of them both any more in manner of a suitor: for what majesty of virtue did in the one, that did silent humbleness in the other. But finding her son over-apt to lay both condemnation, and execution of sorrow upon himself, she sought to mitigate his mind with feigned delays of comfort, who (having this inward overthrow in himself) was the more vexed, that he could not utter the rage thereofupon his outward enemies.  
argument key no. 2 For Basilius taught by the last days trial, what dangerous effects chosen courages can bring forth, rather used the spade, than the sword; or the sword, but to defend the spade; girding about the whole town with trenches; which beginning a good way of from the town, with a number of well directed pioneers, he still carried before him till they come to a near distance, where he builded Forts, one answering the other, in such sort, as it was a pretty consideration in the discipline of war, to see building used for the instrument of ruin, and the assayler entrenched as if he were besieged. But many sallies did Amphialus make to hinder their working. But they (exercising more melancholy, than choler in their resolution) made him find, that if by the advantage of place, few are able to defend themselves from many, that many must needs have power, (making themselves strong in seat) to repel few; referring the revenge rather to the end, than a present requital. Yet oftentimes they dealt some blows in light skirmishes, each side having a strong retiring place, and rather fight with many alarms, to vex the enemy, then for any hope of great success.  
Which every way was a tedious cumber to the impatient argument key no. 3 courage of Amphialus: till the fame of this war, bringing thither diverse, both strangers, and subjects, as well of princely, as noble houses, the gallant Phalantus, who restrained his sportful delights as then, to serve Basilius, (whom he honoured for received honours) when he had spent some time in considering the Arcadian manner in marching, encamping, and fight, and had learned in what points of government, and obedience their discipline differed from others, and had satisfied his mind in the knowledge, both for the cutting off the enemies helps, and furnishing one's self, which Basilius orders could deliver unto him, his young spirits (weary of wanting cause to be weary) desired to keep his valour in knowledge, by some private act, since the public policy restrained him; the rather, because his old mistress Artesia might see, whom she had so lightly forsaken: and therefore demanding and obtaining leave of Basilius; he caused a Herald to be furnished with apparel of his office, and tokens of a peaceable message, and so sent him to the gate of the town to demand audience of Amphialus: who understanding thereof, caused him both safely, and courteously to be brought into his presence: who making lowly reverence unto him, presented his Letters, desiring Amphialus that whatsoever they contained, he would consider that he was only the bearer, but not the inditer. Amphialus with noble gentleness assured him both, by honourable speeches, and a demeanour which answered for him, that his revenge, whensoever, should sort unto itself a higher subject. But opening the Letters, he found them to speak in this manner.  
argument key no. 4 PHalantus of Corinthe, to Amphialus of Arcadia, sendeth the greeting of a hateless enemy. The liking of martial matters without any mislike of your person, hath brought me rather to the company, then to the mind of your besiegers: where languishing in idleness, I desire to refresh my mind with some exercise of arms, which might make known the doers, with delight of the beholders. Therefore, if there be any Gentleman in your Town, that either for the love of Honour, or honour of his Love, well armed, on horseback, with lance, and sword, will win another, or lose himself, to be a prisoner at discretion of the conqueror, I will to morrow morning by Sun rising, with a trumpet and a Squire only, attend him in like order furnished. The place I think fittest, the Island within the Lake, because it stands so well in the view of your Castle, as that the Ladies may have the pleasure of seeing the combat: which though it be within the commandment of your Castle, I desire no better security, than the promise I make to myself of your virtue. I attend your answer, and wish you such success as may be to your honour, rather in yielding to that which is just, then in maintaining wrong by much violence.  
AMphialus read it with cheerful countenance, and argument key no. 5 thinking but a little with himself, called for ink and paper, and wrote this answer.  
AMphialus of Arcadia, to Phalantus of Corinthe, wisheth all his own wishes, saving those which may be hurtful to another. The matter of your letters so fit for a worthy mind, and the manner so suitable to the nobleness of the matter, give me 'cause to think how happy I might account myself, if I could get such a friend, who esteem it no small happiness to have met with so noble an enemy. Your challenge shall be answered, and both time, place, and weapon accepted. For your security for any treachery (having no hostage worthy to countervail you) take my word, which I esteem above all respects. Prepare therefore your arms to fight, but not your heart to malice; since true valour needs no other whetstone, then desire of honour.  
argument key no. 6 Having writ and sealed his letter, he delivered it to the Herald, and withal took a fair chain from off his own neck, and gave it him. And so with safe convoy sent him away fromout his City: and he being go, Amphialus showed unto his mother, and some other of his chief Counsellors, what he had received, and how he had answered: telling them withal, that he was determined to answer the challenge in his own person. His mother with prayers authorised by motherly commandment; his old governor with persuasions mingled with reprehensions, (that he would rather affect the glory of a private fighter, then of a wise General) Clinias with falling down at his feet, and beseeching him to remember, that all their lives depended upon his safety, sought all to dissuade him. But Amphialus (whose heart was inflamed with courage, and courage inflamed with affection) made an imperious resolution cut off the tediousness of replies, giving them in charge, what they should do upon all occasions, and particularly to deliver the Ladies, if otherwise then well happened unto him: only desiring his mother, that she would bring Philoclea to a window where she might with ease perfectly discern the combar. And so, as soon as the morning began to draw dew from the fairest greens, to wash her face withal, against the approach of the burning Sun, he went to his stable, where himself chose out a horse, whom (though he was near twenty year old) he preferred for a piece of sure service, before a great number of younger. His colour was of a brown bay, dapled thick with black spots; his forehead marked with a white star; to which, in all his body there was no part suitable, but the left foot before; his mane and tail black, and thick, of goodly, and well proportioned greatness. He caused him to be trimmed with a sumptuous saddle of tawny, and gold enamel, enriched with precious stones: his furniture was made into the fashion of the branches of a tree, from which the leaves were falling: and so artificially were the leaves made, that as the horse moved, it seemed indeed that the leaves wagged, as when the wind plays with them; and being made of a pale cloth of gold, they did bear the straw-coloured livery of ruine. His armour was also of tawny and gold, but form into the figure of flames darkened, as when they newelie break the prison of a smoky furnace. In his shield he had painted the Torpedo fish. And so appointed, he caused himself, with is trumpet and squire (whom he had taken since the death of Ismenus) to be ferried over into the Island: a place well chosen for such a purpose. For, it was so plain, as there was scarcely any bush, or hillock, either to unlevell, or shadow it: of length and breadth enough, to try the uttermost both of lance and sword, and the one end of it facing of the castle, the other extending itself toward the camp, and no access to it, but by water: there could no secret treachery be wrought, and for manifest violence, either side might have time enough to secure their party.  
argument key no. 7 But there he found Phalantus, already waiting for him upon a horse, milk white, but that upon his shoulder and withers, he was fretned with read stains, as when a few strawberries are scattered into a dish of cream. He had caused his mane and tail to be died in carnation; his reins were vine branches, which engendering one with the other, at the end, when it come to the bit, there, for the boss, brought forth a cluster of grapes, by the workman made so lively, that it seemed, as the horse champed on his bit, he chopped for them, and that it did make his mouth water, to see the grapes so near him. His furniture behind was of vines, so artificially made, as it seemed the horse stood in the shadow of the vine, so prettily were clusters of ruby grapes dispersed among the trappers which embraced his sides. His armour was blue, like the heaven, which a Sun did with his rays (proportionately delivered) guild in most places. His shield was beautified with this device; A greyhound, which overrunning his fellow, and taking the hare, yet hurts it not when it takes it. The word was, The glory, not the pray.  
argument key no. 8 But as soon as Amphialus landed, he sent his squire to Phalantus, to tell him, that there was the Knight, ready to know whither he had any thing to him. Phalantus answered, that his answer now must be in the language of lances; & so each attended the warning of the trumpets, which were to sounded at the appointment of four judges, who with consideration of the same, had divided the ground. Phalantus-his horse young, and feeling the youth of his master, stood curveting; which being well governed by Phalantus; gave such a glittering grace, as when the Sun shines upon a waving water. Amphialus-horse stood panting upon the ground, with his further foot before, as if he would for his master's cause begin to make himself angry: till the trumpet sounded together. Together they set spurs to their horses, together took their lances from their thighs, conveyed them up into their rests together, together let them sink downward; so as it was a delectable sight, in a dangerous effect; and a pleasant consideration, that there was so perfect agreement, in so mortal disagreement; like a music, made of cunning discords. But their horses keeping an even line their masters had skilfully allotted unto them, passed one by another without encountering, although either might feel the angry breath of other. But the staves being come to a just descent, but even when the mark was ready to meet them, Amphialus was run through the vamplate, and under the arm: so as the staff appearing behind him, it seemed to the beholders he had been in danger. But he struck Phalantus just upon the gorget, so as he battered the lamms thereof, and made his head almost touch the back of his horse. But either side having stayed the spur, & used the bit to stop their horse's fury, casting away the troncheons of their staves, & drawing their swords, they attended the second summons of the death-threatning trumpet, which quickly followed; and they assoon making their horses answer their hands, with a gentle gallop, set the one toward the other; till being come in the nearness of little more than a staves length. Amphialus trusting more to the strength, then to the nimbleness of his horse, put him forth with speedy violence, and making his head join to the others flank, guiding his blow with difcretion, and strengthening it with the course of his horse, struck Phalantus upon the head, in such sort, that his feeling sense did both dazzle his sight, and astonish his hearing. But Phalantus (not accustomed to be ungrateful to such benefits) struck him upon the side of his face, with such a force, that he thought his jaw had been cut asunder: though the faithfulness of his armour indeed guarded him from further damage. And so remained they awhile, rather angry with fight, then fight for anger, till Amphialushis horse, leaning hard upon the other, and winning ground, the other horse feeling himself priest, began to rise a little before, as he was wont to do in his curvet: which advantage Amphialus taking, set forward his own horse with the further spur, so as Phalantus-his horse come over with his master under him. Which Amphialus seeing, lighted, with intention to help Phalantus. But his horse that had faulted, rather with untimely art, then want of force, got up from burdning his burden, so as Phalantus (in the fall having gotten his feet free of & the stirrup) could (though something bruised) arise, seeing Amphialus near him, he asked him, Whither he had given him any help in removing his horse. Amphialus said No. Truly said Phalantus, I asked it, because I would not willingly have fought with him, that had had my life in his mercy. But now (said Phalantus) before we proceed further, let me know who you are, because never yet did any man bring me to the like fortune. Amphialus listing to keep himself unknown, told him he was a Gentleman, to whom Amphialus that day had given armour and horse to try his valour, having never before been in any combat worthy remembrance. Ah, (said Phalantus in a rage) And must I be the exercise of your prentis-age? & with that, choler took away either the bruise, or the feeling of the bruise, so as he entered a fresh into the combat, & boiling in his arms the disdain of his heart, struck so thick upon Amphialus, as if every blow would feign have been foremost. But Amphialus (that many like trials had taught, great spending to leave small remnants) let pass the storm with strong wards, and nimble avoidings: till seeing his time fit, both for distance and nakedness, he struck him so cruel a blow on the knee, that the poor Gentleman fell down withal in a sown.  
But Amphialus, pitying approved valour, made precious argument key no. 9 by natural courtesy, went to him; & taking of his headpiece to give him air, the young Knight (disdained to buy life with yielding) bade him use his fortune: for he was resolved never to yield. Not more you shall (said Amphialus) if it be not to my request, that you will accounted yourself to have great interest in me. Phalantus more overcome by his kindness, than by his fortune, desired yet once again to know his name, who in his first beginning had showed such fury in his force, and yet such stay in his fury. Amphialus, then named himself, telling him withal, he would think his name much bettered, if it might be honoured by the title of his friend. But no Balm could be more comfortable to his wound, than the knowledge thereof was to his mind, when he knew his mishap should be excused by the renowned valour of the other. And so promising each to other assuredness of good will, Phalantus, (of whom Amphialus would have no other ransom, but his word of friendship) was conveyed into the camp, where he would but little remain among the enemies of Amphialus: but went to seek his adventures otherwhere.   

CHAP. 12.  
¹ Philoclea's il-taking Amphialus well-meaning. ² His challenge and conquests continued for Love, & his love. ³ Argalus sent for to this challenge. ⁴ The conjugal happiness of him and his wife. ⁵ The passions stirred by this message. ⁶ Their sorrow-sounding farewell. ⁷ Argalusis defy. ⁸ Amphialusis answer. ⁹ Argalusis furniture. ¹⁰ Their combat, bloody to both, deadly to Argalus. ¹¹ Parthenia comes to the end of it, and him. ¹² Her ¹³ and his lamentations. ¹⁴ The funerals.  
argument key no. 1 AS for Amphialus he was received with triumph into the castle; although one might see by his eyes (humbly lifted up to the window where Philoclea stood) that he was rather suppliant, then victorious: which occasion Cecropia taking, (who as then stood by Philoclea, and had lately left Pamela in another room, whence also she might see the combat) Sweet Lady (said she) now you may see, whither you have cause to love my son, who then lies under your feet, when he stands upon the neck of his bravest enemies. Alas said Philoclea, a simple service to me, me thinks it is, to have those, who come to secure me, destroyed: If it be my duty to call it love, be it so: but the effects it brings forth I confess I accounted hateful. Cecropia grew so angry with this unkind answer, that she could not abstain from telling her, that she was like them that could not sleep, when they were softly laid: but that if her son would follow her counsel, he should take another course with her: and so flang away from her.  
Yet (knowing the desperate melancholy of Amphialus argument key no. 2 in like cases) framed to him a very thankful message, powdering it with some hope-givingphrases; which were of such joy to Amphialus, that he (though against public respect, & importunity of dissuaders) presently caused it to be made known to the camp, that whatsoever Knight would try the like fortune as Phalantus did, he should in like sort be answered: so as divers of the valiantest, partly of themselves, partly at the instigation of Basilius, attempted the combat with him: and according to every one's humour; so were the causes of the challenge grounded: one laying treason to his charge; another preferring himself in the worthiness to serve Philoclea; a third, exalting some Lady's beauty beyond either of the sisters; a fourth, laying disgraces to Love itself, naming it the bewitcher of the wit, the rebel to Reason, the betrayer of resolution, the defiler of thoughts, the underminer of magnanimity, the flatterer of vice, the slave to weakness, the infection of youth, the madness of age; the curse of life, and reproach of death; a fifth, disdaining to cast at less than at all, would make the cause of his quarrel the causers of love, and proclaim his blasphemies against womankind; that namely that sex was the oversight of Nature, the disgrace of reasonableness, the obstinate cowards, the slave-borne tyrants, the shops of vanities, the guilded weathercocks; in whom conscience is but peevishness, chastity way wardness, & gratefulness a miracle. But all these challenges (how well so ever indited) were so well answered, that some by death taught others, though past learning themselves; & some by yielding gave themselves the lie for having blasphemed; to the great grief of Basilius, so to see his Rebel prevail, and in his own sight to crown himself with deserved honour.  
argument key no. 3 Whereupon thirsting for revenge, & else not hoping to prevail, the best of his camp being already overthrown; he sent a messenger to Argalus, in whose approved courage and force, he had (and had cause) to have great confidence, with a letter; requiring him, to take this quarrel in hand, from which he had hitherto spared him in respect of his late marriage. But now his honour, and (as he esteemed it) felicity standing upon it, he could no longer forbear to challenge of him his faithful service.  
argument key no. 4 The messenger made speed, and found Argalus at a castle of his own, sitting in a parlour with the fair Parthenia, he reading in a book the stories of Hercules, she by him, as to hear him read; but while his eyes looked on the book, she looked on his eyes, & sometimes staying him with some pretty question, not so much to be resolved of the doubt; as to give him occasion to look upon her. A happy couple, he joying in her, she joying in herself, but in herself, because she enjoyed him: both increasing their riches by giving to each other; each making one life double, because they made a double life; one, where desire never wanted satisfaction, nor satisfaction never bred satiety; he ruling, because she would obey: or rather because she would obey, she therein ruling.  
But when the messenger come in with letters in his argument key no. 5 hand, & hast in his countenance, though she knew not what to fear, yet she feared, because she knew not; but she rose, and went aside, while he delivered his letters and message; yet a far of she looked, now at the messenger, & then at her husband: the same fear, which made her loathe to have cause of fear, yet making her seek cause to nourish her fear. And well she found there was some serious matter; for her husband's countenance figured some resolution between loathness and necessity: and once his eye cast upon her, & finding hers upon him, he blushed; & she blushed, because he blushed; and yet strength grew paler, because she knew not why he had blushed. But when he had read, & heard, & dispatched away the messenger (like a man in whom Honour could not be rocked on sleep by Affection) with promise quickly to follow; he come to Parthenia, and as forie as might be for parting, and yet more sorry for her sorrow, he gave her the letter to read. She with fearful slowness took it, and with fearful quickness read it; and having read it, Ah my Argalus (said she) and have you made such haste to answer? and are you so soon resolved to leave me? But he discoursing unto her, how much it imparted his honour (which since it was dear to him, he knew it would be dear unto her) her reason overclowded with sorrow, suffered her not presently to reply, but left the charge thereof to tears, and sighs; which he not able to bear, left her alone, and went to give order for his present departure.  
By that time he was armed, and ready to go, she had argument key no. 6 recovered a little strength of spirit again, & coming out, & sing him armed, & wanting northing for his departure but her farewell, she ran to him, took him by the arm, and kneeling down with out regard, who either heard her speech, or seen her demeanour, My Argalus, my Argalus (said she) do not thus forsake me. Remember, alas, Remember that I have interset in you, which I will never yield shalbe thus adventured. Your valour is already sufficiently known: sufficiently have you already done for your country: ennow, ennow there are besides you to lose less worthy lives. Woe is me, what shall become of me, if you thus abandon me? Than was it time for you to follow these adventures, when you adventured no body but yourself, and were no bodies but your own. But now pardon me, that now, or never, I claim my own; my you are, & without me you can undertake no danger; & will you endanger Parthenia? Parthenia shalbe in the battle of your fight: Parthenia shall smart in your pain, & your blood must be bled by Parthenia. Dear Parthenia (said he) this is the first time, that ever you resisted my will: I thank you for it; but persever not in it; & let not the tears of those most beloved eyes be a presage unto me of that, which you would not should happen. I shall live, doubt not: for so great a blessing, as you are, was not given unto me, so soon to be deprived of it. Look for me therefore shortly, and victorious; and prepare a joyful welcome, and I will with for no other triumph. She answered not, but stood as it were thunder-striken with amazement: for true Love made obedience stand up against all other passions. But when he took her in his arms, and sought to print his heart in her sweet lips, she fell in a sound, so as he was feign to leave her to her Gentlewomen: and carried away by the tyranny of Honour, though with many a backe-cast look, and hearty groan, went to the camp. When understanding the notable victories of Amphialus, he thought to give him some days respite of rest, because he would not have his victory disgraced by the others weariness. In which days, he sought by all means (having leave to parley with him) to dissuade him from his enterprise: and then imparting his mind to Basilius, because he found Amphialus was inflexible, wrote his defy unto him in this manner.  
RIght famous Amphialus, if my persuasion in reason, argument key no. 7 or prayer in good will, might prevail with you, you should by better means be like to obtain your desire. You should make many brave enemies become your faithful servants, & make your honour fly up to the heaven, being carried up by both the wings of valour & justice; whereof now it wants the latter. But since my svite, nor counsel can get no place in you, disdain not to receive a mortal challenge, from a man so far inferior unto you in virtue, as that I do not so much mislike of the deed, as I have the doer in admiration Prepare therefore yourself, according to the noble manner you have used, and think not lightly of never so weak an arm, which strikes with the sword of justice.  
To this quickly he received this answer.  
Much more famous Argalus, I, whom never threatenings argument key no. 8 could make afraid, am now terrified by your noble courtesy. For well I know, from what height of virtue it doth proceed, and what cause I have to doubt such virtue bend to my ruin: but Love, which justifieth the unjustice you lay unto me, doth also animate me against all dangers, since I come full of him by whom yourself have been (if I be not deceived) sometimes conquered. I will therefore attended your appearance in the Isle, carrying this advantage with me, that as it shall be a singular honour if I get the victory, so there can be no dishonour in being overcome by Argalus.  
argument key no. 9 The challenge thus denounced, and accepted, Argalus was armed in a white armour, which was guilded over with knots of woman's hair, which come down from the crest of his head-pecce, and spread itself in rich quantity over all his armour: his furniture was cut out into the fashion of an Eagle, where of the beak (made into a rich jewel) was fastened to the saddle, the tail covered the crupper of the horse, and the wings served for trappers; which falling of each side, as the horse stirred, the bird seemed to fly. His pettrell and reins, were embroidered with feathers suitable unto it: upon his right arm he ware a sleeve, which his dear Parthenia had made for him, to be worn in a jousts, in the time that success was ungrateful to their well-deserued love: It was full of bleeding hearts, though never intended to any bloody enterprise. In this shield (as his own device) he had two Palm trees, near one another, with a word signifying, In that sort flourishing. His horse was of a fiery sorrel, with black feet, and black list on his back, who with open nostrils breathed war, before he could see an enemy: and now up with one leg, and then with another, seemed to complain of Nature, that she had made him any whit earthy.  
argument key no. 10 But he had scarcely viewed the ground of the Island, and considered the advantages (if any were) thereof, before the Castle boat had delivered Amphialus, in all points provided to give a hard entertainment. And then sending each to other their Squires in honourable manner, to know whither they should attend any further ceremony; the trumpets sounding, the horses with smooth running, their staves with unshaked motion, obediently performed their choleric commandments. But when they drew near, Argalus-his horse being hot, priest in with his head: which Amphialus perceiving, knowing if he gave him his side, it should be to his disadvantage, priest in also with him, so as both the horses & men met shoulder to shoulder, so as the horses (hurt as much with the striking, as being stricken) tumbled down to the earth, dangerously to their master, but that they by strength nimble, and by use skilful, in the falling shunned the harm of the fall, and without more respite, drew out their sword with a gallant bravery, each striving to show himself the less endamaged, and to make known that they were glad, they had now nothing else to trust to, but their own virtue. True it is, that Amphialus was the sooner up; but Argalus had his sword out the sooner: and then fell they to the cruelest combat, that any present eye had seen. Their sword first, like Canons, battering down the walls of their armour, making breaches almost in every place for troops of wounds to enter. Among the rest, Argalus gave a great wound to Amphialushis disarmed face; though part of the force of it Amphialus warded upon his shield, and withal (first casting his eye up to Philoclea's Window, as if he had fetched his courage thence) fcyning to intend the same sort of blows, turned his sword, and with a mighty reverfe, gave a cruel wound to the right arm of Argalus, the unfaithful armour yielding to the swords strong-guided sharpness. But though the blood accused the hurt of Argalus, yet would he in no action of his confess it: but keeping himself in a lower ward, stood watching with timely thrusts to repair his loss; which quickly he did. For Amphialus (following his fawning fortune) laid on so thick upon Argalus, that his shield had almost fallen piece-meal to the earth, when Argalus coming in with his right foot, and something stowping to come under his armour, thrust him into the belly dangerously, and mortally it would have been, but that with the blow before, Amphialus had overthrown himself so, as he fell side-warde down, and with falling saved himself from ruine. The sword by that means slipping aside, and not piercing more deeply, Argalus secing him fall, threatening with voice and sword, bade him yield. But he striving without answer to rise, Argalus struck with all his might upon his head. But his hurt arm not able to master so sound a force, let the sword fall so, as Amphialus, though astonished with the blow, could arise: which Argalus considering, ran in to grasp with him, and so closed together; falling so to the ground, now one getting above, and then the other; at length, both weary of so unlovely embracements, with a dissenting consent gate up, and went to their sword: but happened each of his enemies: where Argalus finding his focs sword garnished in his blood, his heart raze with the same sword to revenge it, and on that blade to ally their bloods together. But his mind was evil wayted-on by his lamed force, so as he received still more and more wounds, which made all his armour seem to blush, that it had defended his master no better. But Amphialus perceiving it, & weighing the small hatefulness of their quarrel, with the worthiness of the Knight, desired him to take pity of himself. But Argalus, the more repining, the more he found himself in disadvantage, filling his veins with spite in stead of blood, and making courage arise against faintness, (like a Candle, which a little before it goes out, gives then the greatest blaze) so did he unite all his force, that casting away the little remnant of his shield, and taking his sword in both hands, he struck such a notable blow, that he cloven his shield, armour, and arm almost to the bone.  
But then Amphialus forgot all ceremonies, and with argument key no. 11 cruel blows made more of his blood succeed the rest; till his hand being stayed by his ear, his ear filled with a pitiful cry, the cry guided his sight to an excellent fair Lady, who come running as fast as she could, and yet because she could not as fast as she would, she sent her lamentable voice before her: and being come, and being known to them both, to be the beautiful Parthenia, (who had that night dreamt she saw her husband in such estate, as she then found him, which made her make such haste thither) they both marveled. But Parthenia ran between them (fear of love making her forget the fear of Nature) and then fell down at their feet, determining so to part them, till she could get breath to sigh out her doolefull speeches: and when her breath (which running had spent, and dismaidness made slow to return) had by sobs gotten into her; sorow-closed breast, for a while she could say nothing, but, OH wretched eyes of my, OH wailful sight, OH day of darkness: at length turning her eyes (wherein sorrow swam) to Amphialus, My Lord (said she) it is said you love; in the power of that love, I beseech you to leave of this combat, as even your heart may find comfort in his affection, even for her sake, I crave it: or if you be mortally determined, be so pitiful unto me, as first to kill me, that I may not see the death of Argalus. Amphialus was about to have answered, when Argalus, vexed with his Fortune, but most vexed that she should see him in that fortune, Ah Parthenia (said he) never till now unwelcome unto me, do you come to get my life by request? And can not Argalus live but by request? Is it a life? With that he went aside, for fear of hurting her, and would have begun the combat afresh. But Amphialus not only conjured by that which held the Monarchy of his mind, but even in his noble heart melting with compassion at so passionate a sight, desired him to withhold his hands, for that he should strike one, who sought his favour, and would not make resistance. A notable examble of the wonderful effects of Virtue, where the conqueror, sought for friendship of the conquered, and the conquered would not pardon the conqueror: both indeed being of that mind to love each other for accepting, but not for giving mercy, and neither affected to overlive a dishonour: so that Argalus not so much striving with Amphialus (for if he had had him in the like sort, in like sort he would have dealt with him) as labouring against his own power (which he chief despised) set himself forward, stretching his strength to the uttermost. But the fire of that strife, blown with his inward rage, boiled out his blood in such abundance, that he was driven to rest him upon the pommel of his sword: and then each thing beginning to turn round in the dance of Death before his eyes, his sight both dazzled, and dimmed, till (thinking to sit down) he fell in a sown. Parthenia, and Amphialus both hastily went unto him: Amphialus took of his helmet, and Parthenia laid his head in her lap, tearing of her linen sleeves & partlet, to serve about his wounds; to bind which, she took of her hair-lace, and would have cut of her fair hair herself, but that the squires and judges come in with fit things for the purpose: while she bewailed herself with so lamentable sweetness, as was enough to have taught sorrow to the gladdest thoughts, and have engraved it in the minds of hardest metal.  
OH Parthenia, no more Parthenia (said she) What art argument key no. 12 thou? what seest thou? how is thy bliss in a moment fallen? how art thou, even-now before all Ladies the example of perfect happiness, and now the gasing-stock of endless misery? OH God, what hath been my desert to be thus punished? or if such have been my desert, why was I not in myself punished? OH wandering life, to what wilderness wouldst thou led one? But Sorrow, I hope thou art sharp enough to save my labour from other remedies. Argalus, Argalus, I will follow thee, I will follow thee.  
But with that Argalus come out of his sown, and argument key no. 13 lifting up his languishing eyes (which a painful rest, and iron sleep did seek to lock up) seeing her, in whom (even dying) he lived, and himself seated in so beloved a place, it seemed a little cheerful blood come up to his cheeks, like a burning coal, almost dead, if some breath a little revive it: & forcing up (the best he could) his feeble voice, My dear, my dear, my better half (said he) I find I must now leave thee: and by that sweet hand, and fair eyes of thine I swear, that Death brings nothing with it to grieve me, but that I must leave thee, and cannot remain to answer part of thy infinite deserts, with being some comfort unto thee. But since so it pleaseth him, whose wisdom and goodness guideth all, put thy confidence in him, and one day we shall blessedly meet again, never to departed: mean while live happily, dear Parthenia, and I persuade myself, it will increase the blessedness of my soul, so to see thee. Love well the remembrance of thy loving, and truly loving, Argalus: and let not (with that word he sighed) this disgrace of my, make thee one day think, thou hadst an unworthy husband. They could scarcely understand the last words: for Death began to seize himself of his heart, neither could Parthenia make answer, so full was her breast of anguish. But while the other sought to staunch his remediless wounds, she with her kisses made him happy: for his last breath was delivered into her mouth.  
argument key no. 14 But when indeed she found his ghost was go, than Sorrow lost the wit of utterance, and grew rageful, and mad, so that she tare her beautiful face, and rend her hair, as though they could serve for nothing, since Argalus was go; till Amphialus (so moved with pittic of that sight, as that he honoured his adversaries death with tears) caused her (with the help of her women that come with her) partly by force, to be conveyed into boat, with the dead body of Argalus, from which she could not departed. And being come of the other side, there she was received by Basilius himself, with all the funeral pomp of military discipline, trailing all their Ensigns upon the ground, making his warlike instruments sounded doleful notes, and Basilius (with comfort in his mouth, and woe in his face) sought to persuade some ease into Parthenia's mind: but all was as easeful to her, as the handling of sore wounds: all the honour done, being to her but the triumph of her ruin, she finding no comfort, but in desperate yielding to Sorrow: and rather determined to hate herself, if ever she should find ease thereof. And well might she hear as she past through the Campc, the great praises spoken of her husband, which all were records of her loss. But the more excellent he was (being indeed accounted second to noon in all Greece) the more did the breath of those praises, bear up the wings of Amphialushis fame: to whom yet (such was his case) that Trophy upon Trophy, still did but build up the monument of his thraldom; he ever finding himself in such favour of Philoclea, that she was most absent, when he was present with her; and ever sorriest, when he had best success: which would have made him renounce all comfort, but that his mother, with diversity of devices, kept up his heart.  
But while he allayed thus his outward glory, with inward discomfort, he was like to have been overtaken with a notable treason, the beginning whereof (though merely ridiculous) had like to have brought forth unto him a weeping effect.   

CHAP. 13.  
¹ Dam put in heart ² to defy Clinias. ³ Clinias out of heart to see the vie. ⁴ Dam bravery, adoubements, and imprese. ⁵ Clinias drawn ⁶ to answer him. ⁷ Their passions in coming to the field. ⁸ Their actions in it, not so doughty, as their fortune doubtful. ⁹ Clinias yielding to triumphant Dam.  
argument key no. 1 AMong other that attended Basilius in this expedition, Dam was one; whither to be present with him, or absent from Miso: once, certain it was without any mind to make his sword cursed by any widow. Now, being in the càmpe, while each talk seemed injurious, which did not acknowledge some duty to the fame of Amphialus, it fell out sometimes in communication, that as the speech of heaven doth often beget the mention of hell, so the admirable prows of Amphialus (by a contrary) brought forth the remembrance of the cowardice of Clinias: in so much, as it grew almost to a proverb, As very a coward, as Clinias. Describing him in such sort, that in the end, Dam began to think with himself, that if he made a challenge unto him, he would never answer it; and that then he should greatly increase the favourable conceit of Basilius. This fancy of his he uttered to a young Gentleman, that waited upon Philanax, in whose friendship he had especial confidence, because he haunted his company, laughing often merely at his speeches, and not a little extolling the goodly dotes of Mopsa. The young Gentleman as glad, as if he had found a Hare sitting, egged him on, breaking the matter with Philanax, and then (for fear the humour should quail in him) wrote a challenge himself for Dameatas, and brought it to him. But when Dameatas read it, putting his head on his shoulder, and somewhat smiling; he said, it was pretty indeed; but that it had not a lofty style enough: and so would needs indite it in this sort.  
OH Clinias, thou Clinias, the wickedest worm that ever argument key no. 2 went upon two legs; the very fritter of fraud, and seething pot of iniquity: I Damaetas, chief governor of all the royal cattle, and also of Pamela (whom thy Master most perniciously hath, suggested out of my dominion) do defy thee, in a mortal affray from the bodkin to the pike upward. Which if thou dost presume to take in hand, I will out of that superfluous body of thine make thy soul to be evacuated.  
argument key no. 3 The young Gentleman seemed dumbe-striken with admiration, and presently took upon him to be the bearer thereof, while the heat of the fit lasted: and having gotten leave of Basilius (every one helping on, to ease his mind overcharged with melancholy) he went into the town according to the manner before time used, and in the presence of Amphialus delivered this letter to Clinias; desiring to have an answer, which might be fit for his reputation. Clinias opened it, and read it; and in the reading, his blood not daring to be in so dangerous a place, went out of his face, and hid itself more inwardly: and his very words (as if they were afraid of blows) come very slowly out of his mouth: but, aswell as his painting breath would utter it, he bade him tell the lout that fent him, that he difdained to have any thing to do with him. But Amphialus perceiving the matter, took him aside, and very earnestly dealt with him not to shame himself; Amphialus not only desirous to bring it to pass to make some sport to Philoclea, but not being able to persuade with him, Amphialus licensed the Gentleman, telling him, by the next morning he should have answer.  
argument key no. 4 The young Gentleman (sorry he had sped no better) returned to Damaetas, who had fetched many a sowerbreathed 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 difpofition in him to accept it; then lo, Damaetas began to speak his loud voice, to look big, to march up & down, & 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 connie-berrie: & then was hotter than ever to provide himself of horse & armour, saying, he would go to the Island bravely addoubed, & show himself to his charge Pamela. To this purpose many willing hands were about him, letting him have reins, pettrell, with the rest of the furniture, and very brave bases; but all coming from divers houses, neither in colour or fashion, showing any kindred one with another; but that liked Damaetas the better: for that he thought would argue, that he was master of many brave furnitures. Than gave he order to a painter for his device; which was, a plough with the oxen lewfed from it, a sword with a great many arms and legs cut of; and lastly a great army of pen and inkhorns, and books. Neither did he stick to tell the secret of his intent, which was, that he had left of the plough, to do such bloody deeds with his sword, as many inkhorns and books should be employed about the historifying of them: and being asked, why he fet no word unto it, he said, that was indeed like the painter, that sayeth in his picture, Here is the dog, and here is the Hare: & 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 about in a border to be written: 
Miso my own pigsney, thou shalt hear news of Damaetas.   
Thus all things being condignly ordered, with an ill favoured impatiency he waited, until the next morning, that he might make a muster of himself in the Island; often ask them that very diligently waited upon him, whither it were not pity, that such a coward, as Clinias, should fet his runaway feet upon the face of the earth?  
But as he was by divers principal young Gentlemen, argument key no. 5 to his no small glory, lifted up on horseback, comes me a page of Amphialus, who with humble smiling reverence delivered a letter unto him from Clinias: whom Amphialus had brought to this, first with persuasions (that for certain, if he did accept the combat, Damaetas 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 Damaetas might hap either to be sick, or not to have the courage to perform the matter. But when Damaetas 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 Damaetas-his friend, first persuading him, that for certain it was some submission, took upon him so much boldness, as to open his letter, and to read it aloud in this sort.  argument key no. 6 
FIlthy drivel, unworthy to have thy name set in any letter by a soldiers hand written: could thy wretched heart think it was timorousness, that made Clinias suspend a while his answer? Not 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 (OH happy thou, if thou do not appear) but that I will come upon thee withal 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 pain shalbe thy lot, if thou wilt needs be so soolish (I having given thee no such cause) as to meet with me.  
These terrible words Clinias used, hoping they argument key no. 7 would give a cooling to the heat of Dametas-his courage: and so indeed they did, that he did groan to hear the thundering of those threatenings. And when the Gentleman had ended the reading of them, Damaetas told them, that in his opinion he thought his answer come 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 unto the ferry, and so into the Island; the clashing of his own armour striking miserable sear 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 Gentlemen that come with him teaching him how to ufe his sword and lance, while he cast his eye about, to see which way he might run away, cursing all islands in being evil situated) when nias with a brave found of trumpets landed at the other end: who come all the way debating with himself, what he had deserved of Amphialus to drive him to those inconveniences. Sometimes his wit made him bethink himself what was best to be done; but fear did so corrupt his wit, that whatsoruer 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 would use (if he were overcome) to get his life of Damaetas, then how to overcome, where of 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. Fame he would have prayed, but he had not heart enough to have confidence in prayer; the glittering of the armour, and sounding of the trumpets giving such an affault to the weake-breache 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 trumpets cease, and taking the oath of those champions, that they come without guile or witchcraft, set them at wont distance; one from the other.  
argument key no. 8 Than the trumpets sounding, Damaetas-his horse (used to such causes) when he thought jest of the matter, started out so lustily, that Damaetas was iogde back with head, and body, and pulling withal his bridle-hande, the horse (that was tender of mouth) made half a stop, and fell to bounding, so that Damaetas threw away his lance, and with both his hands held by the pummel: 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, and in that sort gave a flat baston ado to Damaetas: 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 passed him, not knowing what he had done, but fearing jest Damaetas were at his back, turned with a wide turn; & seeing him on the ground, he thought then was his time, or never, to tread him under his horses feet; & 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 to low before the legs of the horse, & the coming upon Damaetas, who was then serambling up, the horse fell over & over, and lay upon Clinias. Which Damaetas (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 Damaetas durft not approach, but very leisurely; so as the horse (being lusty) got up, and withal fell to strike, and leap, that Damaetas sTarted up 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 come nearer, to present the pommel of it to Damaetas. But Damaetas, when he fawe him come with his sword drawn, nothing conceiving of 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 with the cruel haste of a prevailing coward; laying upon Damaetas, 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 come into the water with one of his feet.  
But then a new fear of drowning took him, so that argument key no. 9 not daring 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 a 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 Damaetas, that he yielded. Throw away thy sword then (said Damaetas) and I will save thee; but still laying on, as fast as he could. Clinias strait obeyed, and humbly craved mercy, telling him, his sword was go. Than Damaetas first opened his eyes, and seeing him indeed unweaponed, made him stand a good way of from it; and then willed him to lie down upon the earth as flat as he could. Clinias obeyed; and Damaetas (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 arise, and revenge himself. Therefore he thought best to kneel down upon him, and with a great whittle he had (having difarmed 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 countenance, as if he would have been glad to have his throat cut for fear of more pain, the judges come in, and took Damaetas from off him, telling him he did against the law of Arms, having promised life, if he threw away his sword. Damaetas was loathe to consent, till they swore, they would not uffer 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 how he dealt any more with any that come of his father's kindred. But hus this combat of cowards being finished, Damaetas was with much mirth and melody received into the camp as victorious, never a Page there failing to wait upon this Triumph.   

CHAP. 14.  
¹ Clinias a sly traitor. ² Artesia his malcontent accomplice. ³ Zelmane's passions. ⁴ Her practice with Artesia. ⁵ The complot revealed to the disliking sisters, ⁶ bewrayed by  
BUT Clinias, though he wanted argument key no. 1 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 shamed, ensue. For well he deemed, it would be a great bar to practise, and a pulling on of injuries, when men needed not care, how they used him. Insomuch, that Clinias (finding himself the scorning-stocke of every company) fell with repining to hate the cause thereof; & hate in a cowards heart, could set itself no other limits, but death. Which purpose was well egged on by representing unto himself, what danger he lately was in; which still kept no less ugly figure in his mind, than when it was present: and quickly (even in his dissembling countenance) might be discerned a concealed grudge. For though he forced in himself a far more diligent officiousness toward Amphialus, then ever before, yet a leering eye upon the one side at him, a countenance still framed to smiling before him (how little cause soever there was of smiling) and grombling behind him, at any of his commandments, with an uncertain manner of behaviour: his words coming out, though full of flattery, yet slowly, and hoarsely pronounced, might well have blazed, what arms his self heart bore. But despised, because of his cowardliness, and not marked, because despised, he had the freer scope of practise. Which he did the more desperately enter into, because the daily dangers Amphialus did submit himself into, made Clinias assuredly look for his overthrow, and for his own consequently, if he did not redeem his former treason to Basilius, with a more treasonable falsehood toward Amphialus.  
argument key no. 2 His chief care therefore was, to found out among all sorts of Amphialus, whom either like fear, tediousness of the siege, or discontentment of some unsatisfied ambition would make apt to dig in the fame my that he did: & some already of wealthy weary folks, & unconstant youths (who had not found such sudden success as they had promised themselves) he had made stoup to the lure. But of noon he made so good account as of Artesia, sister to the late slain Ismenus, & the chief of six maids, who had trained out the Princesses to their banquet of misery: so much did the sharpness of her wit countervail (as he thought) any other defects of her sex: for she had undertaken that dangerous practice by the persuasion of Cecropia; who assured her that the two princesses should be made away; & then Amphialus would mary her: which he was the apt to believe, by some false persuasion her glass had given her of her own incomparable excellencies, & by the great favour she knew he bore to her brother Ismenus, which (like a self-flattering woman) she conceived was done for her sake. But when she had achieved her attempt, & that she found the Princesses were so far from their intended death, as that the one of them was like to be her fovereigne, & that neither her service had won of Amphialus much more than ordinary favour, nor her over-large offering herself to a mind otherwise owed, had bteined a loked-for acceptation; disdain to be disdained spite of a frustrate hope, & perchauce unquenched lustgrowne rage, made her unquiet thoughts found no othor rest, but malice: which was increased by the death of her brother, whom she judged neither succoured against philanax, nor revenged upon Philanax. But all these coals were well blowneby the company she especially kept with Zelmane, all this time of her imprisonment. For finding her presence uncheerfull to the mourning Philoclea, and contemned of the hie-harted Pamela, she spent her time most with Zelmane. Who though at the first hardly broking the instrument of their milerie, learning cunning the school of adversity, in time framed herself to yield her acceptable entertainment.  
For Zelmane, when she had by that unexpected mischief argument key no. 3 her body imprisoned, her valour overmastred, her wit beguiled, her desires barred, her love eclipsed; assured if evil, fearing worse, able to know Philoclea's misfortune, and not able to secure her, she was a great while, before the greatness of her heart could descend to sorrow, but rather rose boiling up in spite and disdain; Reason hardly making Courage believe, that it was distressed: but as if the walls would be afraid of her, so would her looks shoot out threatening upon them. But the fetters of servitude (growing heavier with wearing) made her feel her case, and the little prevailing of repining: and then grief got seat in her softened mind, making sweetness of passed comforts by due title claim tears of present discomfort: and since her fortune made her able to help as little as any body, yet to be able to wail as much as any body; solitary Sorrow, with a continual circle in herself, going out at her own mouth, to come in again at her own ears. Than was the name of Philoclea graved in the glass windows, and by the foolish idolatry of affection, no sooner written, thenadored; & no sooner adored, than pitied: all the wont praises (she was wont to give unto her) being now but figures of rhetoric to amplify the injuries of misfortune; against which being alone, she would often make invective declamations, methodized only by raging sorrow.  
argument key no. 4 But when Artesia did insinuat herself into her acquaintance, she gave the government of her courage to wit, & was content to familiarize herself with her: so much the rather, as that she perceived in her certain flaws of il-concealed discontentment. Insomuch that when Zelmane would sweeten her mouth with the praises of the sisters, especially setting forth their noble gratefulness, in never forgetting well-intended services, & invoking the justice of the gods, not to suffer such treasures to be wrongfully hidden, & sometimes with a kind unkindness, charging Artesia that she had been abused to abuse so worthy people: Artesia (though falsely) would protest, that she had been beguiled in it, never meaning other matter than recreation: & yet withal (by alleging how ungratefully she was dealt with) it was easy to be seen, it was the unrewarding, & not the evil employing her service, which grieved her. But Zelmane (using her own bias to bowl near the mistress of her own thoughts) was content to lend her belief, and withal, to magnify her desert, if willingly she would deliver, whom unwillingly she had imprisoned; leaving no argument which might tickle ambition, or flatter revenge. So that Artesia, (pushed forward by Clinias, and drawn onward by Zelmane) bound herself to that practice; wherein Zelmane for her part) desired no more, but to have armour and weapons brought into her chamber, not doubting, therewith to perform any thing, how impossible soever, which longing Love can persuade, and invincible valour dare promise.  
But Clinias (whose faith could never comprehend argument key no. 5 thee mysteries of Courage) persuaded Artesia, while he by corruption had drawn the guard of one gate, to open it (when he would appoint the time) to the enemy: that she should empoison Amphialus, which she might the easier do, because she herself had used to make the broths, when Amphialus (either wearied or wounded) did use such diet. And all things already were ready to be put in execution, when they thought best to break the matter with the two excellent sisters, not doubting of their consent in a thing so behoveful to themselves: their reasons being, that the Princesses knowing their service, might be sure to preserve them from the fury of the entering soldiers: whereof Clinias (even so) could scarcely be sufficiently certain: and withal, making them privy to their action, to bind them afterwards to acknowledge gratefulness towards them. They went therefore at one time, when they knew them to be alone, Clinias to Philoclea, and Artesia to Pamela: and Clinias, with no few words, did set forth what an exploit was intended for her service. But Philoclea (in whose clear mind treason could find no hiding place) told him, that she would be glad, if he could persuade her cousin to deliver her, and that she would never forget his service therein: but that she desired him to lay down any such way of mischief, for that (for her part) she would rather yield to perpetual imprisonment, than consent to the destroying her cousin, who (she knew) loved her, though wronged her. This unlooked-for answer amazed Clinias, so that he had no other remedy in his mind, but to kneel down to Philoclea, and beseech her to keep it secret, considering that the intention was for her service: and vowing (since she misliked it) to proceed no further therein. She comforted him with promise of silence, which she performed.  
argument key no. 6 But that little availed: for Artesia having in like fort opened this device to Pamela, she (in whose mind Virtue governed with the sceptre of Knowledge) hating so horrible a wickedness, and strength judging what was sit to do, Wicked woman (said she) whose vnrepenting heart can found no way to amend treason, but by treason: now the time is come, that thy wicked wiles have caught thyself in thy own net: as for me, let the Gods dispose of me as shall please them; but sure it shall be no such way, nor way-leader, by which I will come to liberty. This she spoke something with a louder voice than she was wont to use, so as Cecropia heard the noise; who was (sooner than Artesia imagined she would) come up, to bring Pamela to a window, where she might see a notable skirmish happened in the Camp, as she thought, among themselves: and being a cunning fisher in troubled waters, strength found by their voices and gestures, there was some matter of consequence, which she desired Pamela to tell her. Ask of her (said Pamela) & learn to know, that who do falsehood to their superiors, teach falsehood to their inferiors. Moore she would not say. But Cecropia taking away the each-way guilty Artesia, with fear of torture, got of her the whole practice: so as Zelmane was the more closely imprisoned, and Clinias (with the rest of his corrupted mates, according to their merits) executed: For, as for Artesia, she was but locked up in her chamber, Amphialus not consenting (for the love he bore Ismenus) that further punishment should be laid upon her.   

CHAP. 15.  
¹ Proud Anaxius breaketh through the besiegers. ² His welcome by Amphialus. ³ The Music, ⁵ The sally of Anaxius and his on the Basilians, ⁶ backed by Amphialus, ⁷ beaten back by three unknown Knights. ⁸ The Retreat of both sides.  
argument key no. 1 But the noise they heard in the camp, was occasioned by the famous Prince Anaxius, nephew to the Giant Euardes whom Pyrocles slew: A Prince, of body exceedingly strong; in arms so skilful and fortunate, as no man was thought to excel him; of courage that knew not how to fear: parts worthy praise, if they had not been guided by pride, and followed by unjustice. For, by a strange composition of mind, there was no man more tenderly sensible in any thing offered to himself, which in the farthest-fette construction, might be wrefted to the name of wrong; no man, that in his own actions could worse distinguish between Valour and Violence: So proud, as he could not abstain from a Thraso-like boasting, and yet (so unlucky a lodging his virtues had gotten) he would never boast more than he would accomplish: falsely accounting an unflexible anger, a courageous constancy: esteeming fear, and astonishment, righter causes of admiration, than Love and Honour. This man had four sundry times fought with Amphialus, but Mars had been so unpartial an arbiter, that neither side gate advantage of the other. But in the end it happened, that Anaxius found Amphialus (unknown) in a great danger, and saved his life: whereupon (loving his own benefit) began to favour him, so much the more, as, thinking so well of himself, he could not choose but like him, whom he found a match for himself: which at last grew to as much friendship towards him, as could by a proud heart be conceived. So as in this travail (seeking Pyrocles to be revenged of his uncles death) hearing of this siege, never taking pains to examine the quarrel (like a man whose will was his God, and his hand his law) taking with him his two brothers (men accounted little inferior to himself in martial matters) and two hundred chosen horsemen (with whom he thought himself able to conquer the world) yet commanding the rest of his forces to follow, he himself upon such an unexpected suddenness entered in upon the back of Basilius, that many with great unkindness took their death, not knowing why, nor how they were so murdered. There, if ever, did he make known the wonderfulness of his force. But the valiant, & faithful Philanax, with well governed speed made such head against him, as would have showed, how soon Courage falls in the ditch which hath not the eye of wisdom. But that Amphialus at the same time issued out, & winning with an abundance of courage one of the sconces, which Basilius had builded, made way for his friend Anaxius with great loss of both sides, but especially of the Basilians; such notable monuments had those two swords especially left of their masters redoubted worthiness.  
There with the respect fit to his estate, the honour argument key no. 2 dew to his worthiness, and the kindness which accompanies friendship (made fast by enterchaunged benefits) did Amphialus enforce himself) as much as in a besieged town he could) to make Anaxius know, that his succour was not so needful, as his presence grateful. For causing the streets and houses of the town to witness his welcome (making both soldiers and Magistrates in their countenances to show their gladness of him) he led him to his mother, whom he besought to entertain him with no less love and kindness, then as one, who once had saved her sons life, and now come to save both life and honour. Tush (said Anaxius, speaking aloud, looking upon his brothers) I am only sorry there are not half a dozen Kings more about you: that what Anaxius can do, might be the better manifested. His brothers smiled, as though he had overmodestly spoken far underneath the pitch of his power. Than was he disarmed at the earnest request of Amphialus: for Anaxius boiled with desire to issue out upon the enemies, persuading himself, that the Sun should not be set, before he had overthrown them. And having reposed himself, Amphialus asked him, whither he would visit the young Princesses. But Anaxius whispered him in the care: In truth (said he) dear friend Amphialus, though I am noon of those, that love to speak of themselves, I never come yet in companic of Ladies, but that they fell in love with me. And I that in my heart scorn them as a peevish paltry sex, not worthy to communicate with my virtues, would not do you the wrong: since (as I hear) you do debase yourself so much as to affect them. The courteous Amphialus could have been angry with him for those words; but knowing his humour, suffered him to dance to his own music: and gave himself to entertain both him and his brothers, with as cheerful a manner, as could issue from a mind whom unlucky love had filled with melancholy. For to Anaxius he yielded the direction of all. He gave the watchword, and if any grace were granted, the means were to be made to Anaxius. And that night when supper was ended, wherein Amphialus would needs himself wait upon him, he caused in Boats upon the Lake an excellent music to be ordered: which, though Anaxius might conceive was for his honour, yet indeed he was but the Bricke-wall to convey it to the ears of the beloved philoclea.  
The music was of Cornets, whereof one answering argument key no. 3 the other, with a sweet emulation, striving for the glory of music, and striking upon the smooth face of the quiet Lake, was then delivered up to the castle walls, which with a proud reverberation, spreading it into the air; it seemed before the harmony come to the care, that it had enriched itself in travail, the nature of those places adding melody to that melodious instrument. And when a while that instrument had made a brave proclamation to all unpossessed minds of attention, an excellent consort strength followed of five Viols, and as many voices; which all being but Orators of their masters passions, bestowed this song upon her, that thought upon another matter.  

The Fire to sce my woes for anger burneth: argument key no. 4  
The Air in rain for my affliction weary:  
The Sea to ebb for grief his flowing turneth:  
The Earth with pity dull his centre turneth.  
Fame is with wonder blazed:  
Time runs away for sorrow:  
Place standeth still amazed,  
To see my night of ils, which hath no morrow.  
Alas all only she no pity taketh  
To know my miseries, but chaste and cruel  
My fall her glory maketh;  
Yet still her eyes give to my flames their fuel.   

Fire, burn me quite till sense of burning leave me:  
air, let me draw thy breath no more in anguish:  
Sea, drowned in thee of tedious life bereave me:  
Earth, take this earth wherein my spirits languish.  
Fame, say I was not borne:  
Time, hast my dying hour:  
Place, see my grave uptorne:  
Fire, air, sea, earth, same, time, place show your power.  
Alas from all their help I am exiled:  
For hers am I, and Death fears her displeasure.  
Fie Death thou art beguiled:  
Though I be hers, she sets by me no treasure.   
argument key no. 5 But Anaxius (seeming a weary before it was ended) told Amphialus, that for his part he liked no music, but the neighing of horses, the sound of trumpets, and the cries of yielding persons: and therefore desired, that the next morning they should issue upon the same place, where they had entered that day, not doubting to make them quickly a weary of being the besiegers of Anaxius. Amphialus, who had no whitlesse courage, though nothing blown up with pride, willingly condescended: and so the next morning (giving false alarm to the other side of the camp) Amphialus at Anaxius earnest request, staying within the town to see it guarded, Anaxius and his brethren, Lycurgus, and Zoilus, sallied out with the best chosen men. But Basilius (having been the last day somewhat unprovided) now had better fortified the overthrown sconce; and so well had prepared every thing for defence, that it was impossible for any valour from within, to prevail. Yet things were performed by Anaxius beyond the credit of the credulous. For thrice (valiantly followed by his brothers) did he set up his banner upon the rampire of the enemy: though thrice again by the multitude, and advantage of the place, but especially by the coming of three valiant Knights, he were driven down again. Numbers there were that day, whose deaths and overthrows were executed by the well known sword of Anaxius: but the rest, by the length of time and injury of Historians, have been wrapped up in dark forgetfulness: only Tressennius is spoken of, because when all abandoned the place, he only made head to Anaxius; till having lost one of his legs, yet not lost the heart of fight, Lycurgus (second brother to Anaxius); cruelly murdered him; Anaxius himself disdaining any further to deal with him.  
But so far had Anaxius at the third time prevailed, argument key no. 6 that now the Basilians began to let their courage descend to their feet, Basilius, and philanax in vain striving, with reverence of authority to bridle the flight of astonishment, and to teach Fear discretion: so that Amphialus, seeing Victory show such a flattering countenance to him, come out with all his force; hoping that day to end the siege.  
But that fancy altered quickly by the sudden argument key no. 7 coming to the other side of three Knights, whereof the one was in white armour, the other in green, and the third by his black armour, and device strength known to be the notable Knight, who the first day had given Fortune so short a stop with his notable deeds, and fight hand to hand with the deemed invincible Amphialus. For the very cowards no sooner seen him, but as borrowing some of his spirit, they went like young Eagles to the pray, under the wing of their dam. For the three adventurers, not content to keep them from their rampire, leapt down among them, and entered into a brave combat with the three valiant brothers. But to whither side Fortune would have been partial, could not be determined. For the Basilians, lightened with the beams of these strangers valour; followed so thick, that the Amphialians were glad with some haste to retire to the walls ward: though Anaxius neither reason, fear, nor example, could make him assuage the fury of his fight: until one of the Basilians (unworthy to have his name registered, since he did it cowardly, side-warde, when he lest looked that way) almost cut off one of his legs: so as he fell down, blaspheming heaven, that all the influences thereof had power to overthrow him; and there death would have seized of his proud heart, but that Amphialus took in hand the black knight, while some of his soldiers conveyed away Anaxius, so requiting life for life unto him.  
argument key no. 8 And for the love and example of Amphialus, the fight began to enter into a new fit of heat: when Basilius (that thought enough to be done for that day) caused retreat to be founded; fearing lest his men following over-hastily, might be the loss of those excellent Knights whom he desired to know. The Knights as soon as they heard the retreat (though they were eagerly set, knowing that courage without discipline is nearer beastliness than manhood) drew back their swords, though hungry of more blood: especially the black Knight, who, knowing Amphialus, could not refrain to tell him, that this was the second time he escaped out of his hands, but that he would shortly bring him a bill of all the former accounts. Amphialus sing it fit to retire also (most of his people being hurt, both in bodies and hearts) withdrew himself, with so well seated a resolution, that it was as far from anger, as from dismaidness; answering no other to the black Knights threats, but that when he brought him his account, he should find a good paymaster.   

CHAP. 16.  
¹ The unknown Knights will not be known. ² The Knight of the Tombs show, ³ and challenge accepted by Amphialus. ⁴ Their fight, with the death of the Tombe-knight. ⁵ Who that Knight was. ⁶ The dying speeches, and ⁷ the lamentable funerals.  
THe fight being ceased, and each side withdrawn within their strengths, Basilius sent Philanax to entertain the strange Knights, and to bring them unto him, that he might acknowledge what honour was due to their virtue. argument key no. 1 But they excused themselves, desiring to be known first by their deeds, before their names should accuse their unworthiness: and though the other replied according as they deserved, yet (finding that unwelcome courtesy is a degree of injury) he suffered them to retire themselves to a tent of their own without the camp, where they kept themselves secret: Philanax himself being called away to another strange Knight; strange not only by the unlookedfornesse of his coming, but by the strange manner of his coming.  
argument key no. 2 For he had before him four damosels, and so many behind him, all upon palfreys, & all apparelled in mourning weeds; each of them servants of each side, with like liveries of sorrow. Himself in an armour, all painted over with such a cunning of shadow, that it represented a gaping sepulchre, the furniture of his horse was all of Cypress branches; wherewith in old time they were wont to dress graves. His Bases (which he ware so long, as they come almost to his ankle) were embroidered only with black worms, which seemed to crawl up and down, as ready already to devour him. In his shield for Impresa, he had a beautiful child, but having two heads; whereon the one showed, that it was already dead: the other alive, but in that case, necessarily looking for death. The word was, No way to be rid from death, but by death.  
argument key no. 3 This Knight of the tomb (for so the soldiers termed him) sent to Basilius, to demand leave to sand in a damosel into the town, to call out Amphialus, according as before time some others had done. argument key no. 4 Which being granted (as glad any would undertake the charge, which no body else in that camp was known willing to do) the damosel went in, and having with tears sobbed out a brave challenge to Amphialus, from the Knight of the Tomb, Amphialus, honourably entertaining the gentlewoman, & desiring to know the Knight's name (which the doolefull Gentlewoman would not discover) accepted the challenge, only desiring the Gentlewoman to say thus much to the strange Knight, from him; that if his mind were like to his title, there were more cause of affinity, than enmity between them. And therefore presently (according as he was wont) as soon as he perceived the Knight of the Tomb, with his Damosels and judge, was come into the Island, he also went over in accustomed manner: and yet for the courtesy of his nature, desired to speak with him.  
But the Knight of the Tomb, with silence and drawing his horse back, showed no will to hear, nor speak: but with Lance on thigh, made him know, it was fit for him to go to the other code of the Career, whence waiting the start of the unknown Knight, he likewife made his sources claim haste of his horse. But when his stasse was in his rest, coming down to meet with the Knight, now very near him, he perceived the Knight had missed his rest: wherefore the courteous Amphialus would not let his Lance descend, but with a gallant grace, ran over the head of his there-in friended enemic: and having stopped his horse, and with the turning of him, blessed his sight with the Window where he thought Philoclea might stand, he perceived the Knight had lighted from his horse, and thrown away his staff, angry with his misfortune, as having missed his rest, and drawn his sword to make that supply his fellows fault. He also lighted, and drew his sword, esteeming victory by advantage, rather rob then purchased: and so the other coming eagerly toward him, he with his shield out, and sword aloft, with more bravery than anger, drew unto him; and strait made their swords speak for them a pretie-while with equal fierceness. But Amphialus (to whom the earth brought forth few matches) having both much more skill to choose the places, and more force to work upon the chosen, had already made many windows in his armour for death to come in at; when (the nobleness of his nature abhorring to make the punishment overgo the offence) he stepped a little back, and withal, Sir Knight (said he) you may easily see, that it pleaseth God to favour my cause; employ your valour against them that wish you hurt: for my part, I have not deserved hate of you. Thou liest false traitor, said the other, with an angry, but weak voice. But Amphialus, in whom abused kindness become spiteful rage, Ah barbarous wretch (said he) only courageous in discourtesy; thou shalt soon see whither thy tongue hath betrayed thy heart, or no: and with that, redoubling his blows, gave him, a great wound upon his neck, and closing with him overthrew him, and with the fall thrust him mortally into the body: and with that went to pull off his helmet, with intention to make him give himself the lie, for having so said, or to cut off his head.  
argument key no. 5 But the headpiece was no sooner off, but that there fell about the shoulders of the overcome Knight the treasure of fair golden hair, which with the face (soon known by the badge of excellency) witnessed that it was Parthenia, the unfortunately virtuous wife of Argalus: her beauty then even in despite of the passed sorrow, or coming death, assuring all beholders, that it was nothing short of perfection. For her exceeding fair eyes, having with continual weeping gotten a little redness about them; her roundy sweetly swelling lips a little trembling, as though they kissed their neighbour death; in her cheeks the whiteness striving by little and little to get upon the rosinesse of them; her neck, a neck indeed of Alabaster, displaying the wound, which with most dainty blood laboured to drown his own beauties; so as here was a river of purest red, there an Island of perfitest white, each giving lustre to the other; with the sweet countenance (God-knowes) full of an unaffected languishing: though these things to a grossly conceiving sense might seem disgraces; yet indeed were they but apparailing beauty in a new fashion, which all looked-upon through the spectacles of pity, did even increase the lines of her natural fairness, so as Amphialus was astonished with grief, compassion, & shame, detesting his fortune, that made him unfortunate in victory.  
Therefore, putting off his headpiece & gauntlet; kneeling argument key no. 6 down unto her, & with tears testifying his sorrow, he offered his (by himself accursed) hands to help her: protecting his life and power to be ready to do her honour. But Parthenia (who had inward messengers of the desired deaths approach) looking upon him, and strength turning away her feeble sight, as from a delightless object, drawing out her words, which her breath (loathe to part from so sweet a body) did faintly deliver, Sir (said she) I pray you (if prayers have place in enemies) to let my maids take my body untouched by you: the only honour I now desire by your means, is, that I have no honour of you. Argalus made no such bargain with you, that the hands which killed him, should help me. I have of them (and I do not only pardon you, but thank you for it) the service which I desired. There rests nothing now, but that I go live with him, since whose death I have done nothing but die. Than pausing, and a little fainting, and again coming to herself, OH sweet life, welcome (said she) now feel I the bands untied of the cruel death, which so long hath held me. And OH life, OH death, answer for me, that my thoughts have not so much as in a dream tasted any comfort; since they were deprived of Argalus. I come, my Argalus, I come: And, OH God hide my faults in thy mercies, and grant (as I feel thou dost grant) that in thy eternal love, we may love each other eternally. And this OH Lord: But there Atropos cut off her sentence: for with that, casting up both eyes and hands to the skies, the noble soul departed (one might well assure himself) to heaven, which left the body in so heavenly a demeanour.  
argument key no. 7 But Amphialus (with a heart oppressed with grief, because of her request) withdrew himself, but the judges, as full of pity, had been all this while disarming her, and her gentlewomen with lamentable cries, labouring to staunch the remediless wounds: & a while she was dead before they perceived it; death being able to divide the soul, but not the beauty from that body. But when the infallible tokens of death assured them of their loss, of the women would have killed herself, but that the squire of Amphialus perceiving it, by force held her. Others that had as strong passions, though weaker resolution, fell to cast dust upon their heads, to tear their garments: all falling upon, and crying upon their sweet mistress; as if their cries could persuade the soul to leave the celestial happiness, to come again into the elements of sorrow: one time calling to remembrance her virtue, chasteness, sweetness, goodness to them: another time accursing themselves, that they had obeyed her, they having been deceived by her words, who assured them, that it was revealed unto her, that she should have her hearts desire in the battle against Amphialus, which they wrongly understood. Than kissing her cold hands and feet, weary of the world, since she was go, who was their world. The very heavens seemed, with a cloudy countenance, to louvre at the loss, and Fame itself (though by nature glad to tell rare accidents, yet) could not choose but deliver it in lamentable accents, & in such sort went it quickly all over the Camp: &, as if the air had been infected with sorrow, no heart was so hard, but was subject to that contagion; the rareness of theaccident, matching together (the rarely matched together) pity with admiration. Basilius himself come forth, and brought forth the fair Gynoecia with him, who was go into the camp under colour of vifiting her husband, and hearing of her daughters: but indeed Zelmane was the Saint, to which her pilgrimage was intended: cursing, envying, blessing, and in her heart kissing the walls which imprisoned her. But both they with Philanax, and the rest of the principal Nobility, went out, to make Honour triumph over Death, conveying that excellent body (whereto Basilius himself would needs bend his shoulder) to a church a mile from the camp, where the valiant Argalus lay entombed; recommending to that sepulchre, the blessed relics of faithful and virtuous Love: giving order for the making of marble images, to represent them, & each way enriching the tomb. Upon which, Basilius himself caused this Epitaph to be written.  〈…〉  

CHAP. 17.  
¹ The remorse of Amphialus for his last deed, and lasting destiny. ² His reverent respect in love. ³ His mother's ghosty Counsel to a rape.  
THen with cyes full of tears, and argument key no. 1 mouths full of her praises, returned they to the camp, with more and more hate against Amphialus: Who (poor Gentleman) had therefore greater portion of woe, than any of them. For that courteous heart, which would have grieved but to have heard the like adventure, was rend with remembering himself to be the author: so that his wisdom could not so far temper his passion, but that he tookehis sword, counted the best in the world (which with much blood he had once conquered of a mighty Giant) and broke it into many pieces (which afterwards he had good cause to repent) saying, that neither it was worthy to serve the nobleexercise of chivalry, nor any other worthy to feel that sword, which had strooken so excellent a Lady: & withal, banishing all cheerfulness of his countenance, he returned home. Where he gate him to his bed, notso much to rest his restless mind, as to avoid all company, the sight whereof was tedious unto him. And then melancholy (only rich in unfortunate remembrances) brought before him all the mishaps, with which his life had wrestled: taking this, not only as a confirming of the former, but a presage of following misery; and to his heart (already overcome by sorrowfulness) even trifling misfortunes come, to fill up the roll of a grieved memory, labouring only his wits to pierce farther and farther into his own wretchedness. So all that night (in despite of darkness) he held his eyes open; and the morning when the light began to restore to each body his colour, then with curtains bard he himself from the enjoying of it: neither willing to feel the comfort of the day, nor the ease of the night: until his mother (who never knew what love meant, but only to himward) come to his bed side, and beginning with loving earnestness to lay a kind chiding upon him, because he would suffer the weakness of sorrow, to conquer the strength of his virtues; he did with a broken piece-meal speech (as if the tempest of passion unorderly blue out his words) remember the mishaps of his youth, the evils he had been cause of, his rebelling with Shame, and that shame increased with shameful accidents, the deaths of Philoxenus and Parthenia, wherein he found himself hated of the ever-ruling powers, but especially (and so espeically, as the rest seemed nothing when he come to that) his fatal love to Philoclea: to whom he had so governed himself, as one that could neither conquer, nor yield; being of the one side a slave, and of the other a jailor: and with all, almost upbraiding unto his mother the little success of her large hoping promises, he in effect finding Philoclea nothing mollified, and now himself so cast down, as he thought him unworthy of better.  
argument key no. 2 But his mother (as she had plentiful cause) making him see, that of his other griefs there was little or no fault in himself, and therefore there aught to be little or no grief in him; when she come to the head of the fore, indeed seeing that she could not patch up her former promises (he taking a desperate deafness to all delaying hopes) she confessed plainly, that she could prevail nothing: but the fault was his own, who had marred the young Girl by seeking to have that by prayer, which he should have taken by authority. That as it were an absurd cunning to make high ladders to go in a plain way; so was it an untimely and foolish flattery, there to beseech, where one might command, puffing them up by being besought, with such a self-pride of superiority, that it was not (forsooth) to be held out, but by a denial. OH God (said Amphialus) how well I thought my fortune would bring forth this end of your labours? assure yourself, mother, I will sooner pull out these eyes than they shall look upon the heavenly Philoclea, but as upon a heaven, whence they have their light, & to which they are subject, if they will power down any influences of comfort, OH happy I: but if by the sacrifice of a faithful heart, they will not be called unto me, let me languish, & whither with languishing, & grieve with withering, but never so much as repined with never so much grieving. Mother, o Mother, lust may well be a tyrant, but true-love where it is indeed, it is a servant. Accursed more "than I am, may I be, if ever I did approach her, but that I friezed as much in a fearful reverence, as I burned in a vehement desire. Did ever man's eye look thorough love upon the majesty of virtue, shining through beauty, but that he become (as it well become him) a captive? & is it the style of a captive, to writ, Our will and pleasure?  
Tush, tush son (said Cecropia) if you say you love, argument key no. 3 but withal you fear; you fear jest you should offend; offend? & how know you, that you should offend? because she doth deny: deny? Now by my truth; if your sadness would let me laugh, I could laugh heartily, to see that yet you are ignorant, that No, is no negative in a woman's mouth. My son, believe me, a woman, speaking of women: a lovers modesty among us is much more praised, then liked: or if we like it, so well we like it, that for marring of his modesty, he shall never proceed further. Each virtue hath his time: if you command your soldier to march foremost, & he for courtesy put others before him, would you praise his modesty? love is your General: he bids you dare: & will Amphialus be a dastard? Let examples serve: do you think Theseus should ever have gotten Antiope with sighing, & crossing his arms? he ravished her, and ravished her that was an Amazon, and therefore had gotten a habit of stournes above the nature of a woman; but having ravished her, he got a child of her. And I say no more, but that (they say) is not gotten without consent of both sides. jole had her own father killed by Hercules, & herself ravished, by force ravished, & yet ere long this ravished, & unfathered Lady could sportfully put on the Lion's skin upon her own fair shoulders, & play with the club with her own delicate hands: so easily had she pardoned the ravisher, that she could not but delight in those weapons of ravishing. But above all, mark Helen daughter to jupiter, who could never brook her manerly-wooing Menelaus, but disdained his humbleness, & loathed his softness. But so well she could like the force of enforcing Paris, that for him she could abide what might be abidden. But what? Menelaus takes heart; he recovers her by force; by force carries her home; by force enjoys her; and she, who could never like him for feruiceablenesse, ever after loved him for violence. For what can be more agreeable, then upon force to lay the fault of desire, and in one instant to join a dear delight with a just excuse or rather the true cause is (pardon me o womankind for revealing to my own son the truth of this mystery) we think there wants fire, where we found no sparkles at least of fury. Truly I hue known a great Lady, long sought by most great, most wise, most beautiful, most valiant persons; never won; because they did over-suspiciously solicit her: the same Lady brought under by an other, inferior to all them in all those qualities, only because he could use that imperious maisterfulnesse, which nature gives to men above women. For indeed (son, I confess unto you) in our very creation we are servants: and who praiseth his servants shall never be well obeyed: but as a ready horse strength yields, when he finds one that will have him yield; the same false to bounds when he feels a fearful horseman. Awake thy spirits (good Amphialus) and assure thyself, that though she refuseth, she refuseth but to endear the obtaining. If she weep, and chide, and protest, before it be gotten, she can but weep, and chide, and protest, when it is gotten. Think, she would not strive, but that she means to try thy force: and my Amphialus, know thyself a man, and show thyself a man: and (believe me upon my word) a woman is a woman.   

CHAP. 18.  
¹ The forsaken Knights defy. ² Amphialus answer. ⁴ The one ³ and others armour and imprese. ⁵ The issue of their quarrel. ⁶ Their heroical monomachy on horse, ⁷ and foot. ⁸ Their breathe, ⁹ & reencounters. 10 Amphialus rescued by Anaxius brethren, the Black Knight by the green and white. ¹¹ The supply of both sides to carry away the breathless Knights. ¹² The Blackknights grieves.  
AMphialus was about to answer her, when a Gentleman of his made him understand, that there was a messengercome, who had brought a letter unto him from out of the camp: whom he presently calling for, took, opened, and read the letter, importing this.  
argument key no. 1 TO thee Amphialus of Arcadia, the forsaken Knight wisheth health, and courage, that by my hand thou mayest receive punishment for thy treason, according to thy own offer, which wickedly occasioned, thou haste proudly begun, and accursedly maintained. I will presently (if thy mind faint thee not for his own guiltiness) meet thee in thy Island, in such order, as hath by the former been used: or if thou likest not the time, place, or weapon, I am ready to take thy own reasonable choice in any of them; so as thou do perform the substance. Make me such answer as may show that thou hast some taste of honour: and so I leave thee, to live till I meetc thee.  
Amphialus read it, and with a deep sigh (according to the humour of inward affection) seemed even to condemn himself, as though indeed his reproaches were true. But howsoever the dullness of Melancholy would have languishingly yielded thereunto, his Courage (unused to such injuries) desired help of Anger to make him this answer.  
FOrsaken Knight, though your nameless challenge might argument key no. 2 carry in itself excuse for a man of my birth and estate, yet herein set your heart at rest, you shall not be forsaken. I will without stay answer you in the wonted manner, and come both armed in your foolish threatenings, and yet the more fearless, expecting weak blows, where I find so strong words. You shall not therefore long attend me in the Island, before proof teach you, that of my life you have made yourself too large a promise. In the mean time, Farewell.  
This being written, and delivered, the messenger argument key no. 3 told him, that his Lord would (if he liked the same) bring two Knights with him to be his Patrons. Which Amphialus accepted, and withal shaking of (with resolution) his mother's importunate dissuasions, he furnished himself for the fight: but not in his wont furniture. For now (as if he would turn his inside outward) he would needs appear all in black; his decking both for himself, and horse, being cut out into the fashion of very rags: yet all so dainty, joined together with precious stones, as it was a brave raggedness, and a rich poverty: and so cunningly had a workman followed his humour in his armour, that he had given it a rusty show, and yet so, as any man might perceive was by art, and not negligence; carrying at one instant a disgraced handsomeness, and a new oldness. In his shield he bore for his devise, a Night, by an excellently painter, with a Sun with a shadow, and upon the shadow with a speech signifying, that it only was barred from enjoying that, whereof it had his life: or, From whose I am banished. In his crest he carried Philoclea's knives, the only token of her forward favour.  
argument key no. 4 So past he over into the Island, taking with him the two brothers of Anaxius; where he found the forsaken Knight, attired in his own livery, as black, as forrowe itself could see itself in the blackest glass: his ornaments of the same hue, but form in the figure of Ravens, which seemed to gape for carrion: only his reins were snakes, which finely wrapping themselves one within the other, their heads come together to the cheeks and bosses of the bit, where they might seem to bite at the horse, and the horse (as he champte the bit) to bite at them; and that the white foam was engendered by the poisonous fury of the combat. His Impresa was a Catoblepta which so long lies dead, as the Moon (whereto it hath so natural a sympathy) wants her light. The word signified that The Moon wanted not the light, but the poor beast wanted the moons light. He had in his headpiece, a whip, to witness a selfe-punishing repentance. Their very horses were coal-black too, not having so much as one star to give light to their night of blackness: so as one would have thought they had been the two sons of Sorrow, and were come thither to fight for their birthright in that sorry inheritance.  
Which alliance of passions so moved Amphialus (already argument key no. 5 tender-minded by the afflictions of Love) that without staff or sword drawn, he trotted fairly to the forsaken Knight, willing to have put off his combat, to which his melancholy heart did (more than ever in like occasion) misgive him: and therefore faluting him, Good Knight (said he) because we are men, and should know reason why we do things; tell me the cause, that makes you thus eager to fight with me. Because I affirm (answered the forsaken Knight) that thou dost most rebellious injury to those Ladies, to whom all men own service. You shall not fight with me (said Amphialus) upon that quarrel: for I confess the same too: but it proceeds from their own beauty, to enforce Love to offer this force. I maintain then (said the forsaken Knight) that thou art not worthy so to love. And that confess I too (said Amphialus) since the world is not so richly blessed, as to bring forth any thing worthy thereof. But no more unworthy than any other, since in noon can be a more worthy love. Yes, more unworthy than myself (said the forsaken Knight) for though I deserve contempt, thou deservest both contempt, and hatred.  
But Amphialus by that thinking (though wrongly, argument key no. 6 each indeed mistaking other) that he was his rival, forgot all mind of reconciliation, and having all his thoughts bound up in choler, never staying either judge, trumpet, or his own lance, drew out his sword, & saying, Thou liest false villain, unto him; his words & blows come so quick together, as the one seemed a lightning of the others thunder. But he found no barren ground of such seed: for it yielded him his own with such increase, that though Reason and Amazement go rarely together, yet the most reasonable eyes that seen it, found reason to be amazed at the fury of their combat. Never game of death better played; never fury set itself forth in greater bravery. The courteous Vulcan, when he wrought at his now more courteous wives request, Aenaes' an armour, made not his hammer beget a greater sound; then the sword of those noble Knights did; they needed no fire to their forge; for they made the fire to shine at the meeting of their swords, & armours; each side fetching new spirit from the castle window, and careful of keeping their sight, it was a matter of greater consideration in their combat, then either the advantage of Sun or wind: which Sun and wind (if the astonished eyes of the beholders were not by the astonishment deceived) did both stand still to be beholders of this rare match. For neither could their amazed eyes discern motion in the Sun, and no breath of wind stirred, as if either for fear it would not come among such blows, or with delight had his eyes so busy, as it had forgot to open his mouth. This fight being the more cruel, since both Love and Hatred conspired to sharpen their humours, that hard it was to say, whither Love with one trumpet, or Hatred with another, gave the louder alarm to their courages. Spite, rage, disdain, shame, revenge, come weighting upon Hatred: of the other side come with love-longing Desire, both invincible Hope, and fearless Despair, with rivallike jealousy, which (although brought up within doors in the school of Cupid) would show themselves no less forward, than the other dusty band of Mars, to make themselves notable in the notablenes of this combat. Of either side Confidence, unacquainted with Loss, but assured trust to overcome, and good experience how to overcome: now seconding their terrible blows with cunning labouring the horses, to win ground of the enemy; now unlooked-for parting one from the other, to win advantage by an advantageous return. But force against force, skill against skill, so interchangeably encountered, that it was not easy to determine, whither enterprising, or preventing come former: both, sometimes at one instant, doing and suffering wrong, and choler no less rising of the doing, then of the suffering. But as the fire, the more fuel is put to it, the more hungry still it is to devour more: so the more they struck, the more unsatissied they were with striking. Their very armour by piecemeal fell away from them: and yet their flesh abode the wounds constantly, as though it were less sensible of smart, than the senseless armour: their blood in most places staining the black, as if it would give a more lively colour of mourning, then black can do. And so a long space they fought, while neither virtue, nor fortune seemed partial of either side: which so tormented the unquiet heart of Amphialus, that he resolved to see a quick end: and therefore with the violence of courage, adding strength to his blow, he struck in such wise upon the side of the others head, that his remembrance left that battered lodging: so as he was quite from himself, casting his arms abroad, and ready to fall down; his sword likewise went out of his hand; but that being fast by a chain to his arm, he could not lose. And Amphialus used the favour of occasion, redoubling his blows: but the horse (weary to be beaten, as well as the master) carried his master away, till he come unto himself: But than who could have seen him, might well have diserned shame in his cheeks, and revenge in his eyes: so as setting his teeth together with rage, he come running upon Amphialus, reaching out his arm, which had gathered up the sword, meaning with that blow to have cleaved Amphialus in two. But Amphialus seeing the blow coming, shunned it with nimble turning his horse aside; wherewith the forsaken Knight over-strake himself so, as almost he come down with his own strength. But the more hungry he was of his purpose, the more he was bard the food of it: disdaining the resistance, both of force, and fortune, he returned upon the spur again, and ran with such violence upon Amphialus, that his horse with the force of the shock rose up before, almost overturned: which Amphialus perceiving, with rain and spur put forth his horse; and withal gave a mighty blow in the descent of his horse, upon the shoulder of the forsaken Knight; from whence sliding, it fell upon the neck of his horse, so as horse and man fell to the ground: but he was scarce down before he was up on his feet again, with brave gesture showing rising of courage, in the falling of fortune.  
argument key no. 7 But the courteous Amphialus excused himself, for having (against his will) killed his horse. Excuse thyself for viler faults (answered the forsaken Knight) and use this poor advantage the best thou canst; for thou shalt quickly find thou hast need of more. Thy folly (said Amphialus) shall not make me forget myself: and therewith (trotting a little aside) alighted from his horse, because he would not have fortune come to claim any part of the victory. Which courteous act would have mollified the noble heart of the forsaken Knight, if any other had done it, besides the jailor of his mistress: but that was a sufficient deseazaunce for the firmest bond of good nature; and therefore he was no sooner alighted, but that he ran unto him, re-entering into as cruel a fight, as eye did ever see, or thought could reasonably imagine; far beyond the reach of weak words to be able to express it. For what they had done on horseback, was but as a morsel to keep their stomachs in appetite, in comparison of that, which now (being themselves) they did. Nor ever glutton by the change of dainty diet could be brought to fetch feeding (when he might have been satisfied before) with more earnestness, than those (by the change of their manner of fight) fell clean to a new fight, though any elf would have thought they had had their fill already. Amphialus being the taller man, for the most part stood with his right leg before; his shield at the uttermost length of his arm; his sword high, but with the point toward his enemy. But when he struck, which come so thick, as if every blow would strive to be foremost, his arm seemed still a postilion of death. The forsaken Knight showed with like skill, unlike gesture, keeping himself in continual motion, proportioning the distance between them to any thing that Amphialus attempted his eye guided his foot, and his foot conveyed his hand; and since nature had made him something the lower of the two, he made art follow, and not strive with nature: Shunning rather than warding his blows; like a cunning mastiff, who knows the sharpness of the horn, and strength of the Bull; fights low to get his proper advantage; answering mightiness with nimblencs, and yet at times employing his wonderful force, wherein he was second to noon. In sum, the blows were strong, the thrusts thick, and the avoydings cunning. But the forsaken Knight (that thought it a degree of being conquered to belong in conquering) struck so mighty a blow, that he made Amphialus put knee to the ground, without any humbleness. But when he felt himself stricken down, and seen himself stricken down by his rival, than shame seemed one arm, and disdain another; fury in his eyes, and revenge in his heart; skill and force gave place, & they took the place of skill & force: with so unweariable a manner, that the forsaken Knight was also driven to leave the stream of cunning, and give himself wholly to be guided by the storm of fury: there being in both (because hate would not suffer admiration) extreme disdain to find themselves so matched.  
argument key no. 8 What (said Amphialus to himself) am I Amphialus, before whom so many monsters & Giants have fallen dead, when I only sought causeless adventures? and can one Knight now withstand me in the presence of Philoclea, and fight for Philoclea? or since I lost my liberty, have I lost my courage? have I gotten the heart of a slave, as well as the fortune? If an army were against me in the fight of Philoclea, could it resist me? OH beast, one man resistes thee; thy rival resists thee: or am I indeed Amphialus? have not passions killed him, and wretched I (I know not how) succeeded into his place? Of the other side the forsaken Knight with no less spite, fell out with himself; Hast thou broken (said he to himself) the commandment of thy only Princess to come now into her presence, & in her presence to prove thyself a coward? Doth Asta and Egypt set up Trophies unto thee, to be matched here by a traitor? OH noble Barsanes, how shamed will thy soul be, that he that slew thee, should be resisted by this one man? OH incomparable Pyrocles, more grieved wilt thou be with thy friends shame, them with thy own imprisonment, when thou shalt know how little I have been able to do for the delivery of thee, and those heavenly Princesses. Am I worthy to be friend to the most valorous Prince that ever was entitled valorous, and show myself so weak a wretch? Not, shamed Musidorus, worthy for nothing, but to keep sheep, get thee a sheephook again, since thou canst use a sword no better.  
Thus at times did they, now with one thought, than argument key no. 9 with another, sharpen their over-sharpe humours; like the Lion, that beats himself with his own tail, to make himself the more angry. These thoughts indeed not staying, but whetting their angry sword, which now had put on the apparraile of Cruelty: they bleeding so abundantly, that every body that saw them, fainted for them, & yet they fainted not in themselves: their smart being more sensible to others eyes, then to their own feeling: Wrath and Courage barring the common sense from bringing any message of their case to the mind: Paine, Weariness, and Weakness, not daring to make known their case (though already in the limits of death) in the presence of so violent fury: which filling the veins with rage, in stead of blood, and making the mind minister spirits to the body, a great while held out their fight, like an arrow shot upward by the force of the bow, though by his own nature he would go downward. The forsaken Knight had the more wounds, but Amphialus had the soarer; which the other (watching time and place) had cunningly given unto him. Who ever seen a well-mand Galley fight with a tall ship, might make unto himself some kind of comparison of the difference of these two Knights; a better couple than which, the world could not brag of. Amphials seemed to excel in strength, the forsaken Knight in nimbleness; and yet did the one's strength excel in nimbleness, and the others nimbleness excel in strength: but now, strength and nimbleness were both go, and excess of courage only maintained the fight. Three times had Amphialus with his mighty blows driven the forsaken Knight to go staggering backward, but every one of those times he requited pain with smart, and shame with repulse. And now, whither he had cause, or that overmuch confidence (an overforward scholar of unconquered Courage) made him think he had cause, he begun to persuade himself he had the advantage of the combat, though the advantage he took himself to have, was only that he should be the later to die: which hopes, Hate (as unsecrete as Love) could not conceal, but drawing himself a little back from him, broke out in these manner of words.  
argument key no. 8 Ah Amphialus (said the forsaken knight) this third time thou shalt not escape me, but thy death shall satisfy thy ininry, & my malice; and pay for the cruelty thou showedst in kill the noble Argalus, & the fair Parthenia. In troth (said Amphialus) thou art the best knight that ever I fought withal, which would make me willing to grant thee thy life, if thy wit were as good as thy courage; that (besides other follies) layest that to my charge, which most against my will was committed. But whither my death be in thy power, or no, let this tell thee; And upon the word waited a blow, which parted his shield into two pieces; & despising the weak resistance of his already broken armour, made a great breach into his heart side, as if he would make a passage for his love to get out at.  
But pain rather seemed to increase life, then to weaken argument key no. 9 life in those champions. For, the forsaken Knight coming in with his right leg, and making it guide the force of the blow, struck Amphialus upon the belly, so horrible a wound, that his guts come out withal. Which Amphialus perceiving (fearing death, only because it should come with overthrow) he seemed to conjure all his strength for one moments service; and so, lifting up his sword with both hands, hit the forsaken knight upon the head, a blow, wherewith his sword broke. But (as if it would do a notable service before it died) it prevailed so, even in the instant of breaking, that the forsaken Knight fell to the ground, quite for that instant forgetting both love and hatred: and Amphialus (finding himself also in such weakness, as he looked for speedy death) glad of the victory, though little hoping to enjoy it, pulled up his visar, meaning with his dagger to give him death; but in stead of death, he gave him life: for, the air so revived his spirits, that coming to himself, and seeing his present danger, with a life conquering death, he took Amphialus by the thigh, & together rose himself, and overturned him. But Amphialus scrambled up again, both now so weak indeed, as their motions rather seemed the afterdrops to a storm, than any matter of great fury.  
But Amphialus might repent himself of his wilful breaking his good sword: for, the forsaken Knight (having with the extremity of iustly-conceived hate, and the unpitifulnes of his own neere-threatning death, blotted out all compliments of courtesy) set fly at him so cruelly, that though the blows were weak, yet weakness upon a weakened subject, proved such strength, that Amphialus having attempted in vain, once or twice to close with him, receiving wound upon wound, sent his whole burden to strike the earth with falling, since he could strike his foe no better in standing: giving no other tokens of himself, then as of a man even ready to take his oath to be deaths true servant.  
argument key no. 10 Which when the hardy brothers of Anaxius perceived, not recking law of arms, nor use of chivalric, they flew in to defend their friend, or revenge their loss of him. But they were forthwith encountered with the two brave companions of the forsaken Knight; whereof the one being all in green, both armour and furniture, it seemed a pleasant garden, wherein grew orange trees, which with their golden fruits, cunningly beaten in, & embroidered, greatly enriched the eyepleasing colour of green. In his shield was a sheep, feeding in a pleasant field, with this word, Without fear, or cnuie. And therefore was called the Knight of the sheep. The other Knight was all in milk white, his attiring else, all cut in stars, which made of cloth of silver, and silver spangles, each way seemed to cast many aspects. His device was the very Pole itself, about which many stars stirring, but the place itself left void. The word was, The best place yet reserved. But these four Knights, inheriting the hate of their friends, began a fierce combat: the forsaken Knight himself not able to help his side, but was driven to sit him down, with the extreme faintness of his more & more fainting body. But those valiant couples seeking honour by dishonouring, and to build safety upon ruin, gave new appetites, to the almost glutted eyes of the beholders: and now blood began to put sweat from the full possession of their outsides, no advantage being yet to be seen; only the Knight of the sheep seeming most deliver, and affecting most all that viewed him, when a company of soldiers sent by Cecropia, come out in boats to the Island: and all come running to the destruction of the three Knights, where of the one was utterly unable to defend himself.  
But then did the other two Knights show their argument key no. 11 wonderful courage, and fidelity. For turning back to back, and both bestriding the black forsaken Knight (who had fainted so long till he had lost the feeling of faintness) they held play against the rest, though the two brothers unknightly helped them; till Philanax (who watchfully attended such traitorous practices) sent likewise over, both by boat and swimming, so choice a number as did put most of the other to the sword. Only the two Brothers, with some of the bravest of them, carrying away the body of Amphialus, which they would rather have died, then have left behind them.  
So was the forsaken Knight (laid upon cloaks) argument key no. 12 carried home to the camp. But his two friends knowing his earnest desire not to be known, covering him from any bodies eyes, conveyed him to their own tent: Basilius himself conquering his earnest desire to see him, with fear to displease him, who had fought so notably in his quarrel. But Fame set the honour upon his back, which he would not suffer to shine in his face: no man's mouth being barren of praises to the noble Knight, that had bettered the most esteemed Knight in the world: every body praying for his life, and thinking that therein they prayed for themselves. But he himself, when by the diligent care of friends, and well applied cunning of furgeons, he come to renew again the league between his mind and body, then felt he to a fresh war with his own thoughts, wrongfully condemning his manhood, laying cowardice to himself, whom the impudentest backbiter would not so have wronged. For his courage (used to use victory as an inheritance) could brook no resistance at any time: but now that he had promised himself, not only the conquest of him, but the scaling of the walls, and delivery of Pamela, though he had done beyond at others expectation, yet so short was he of his own; that he hated to look upon the Sun, that had seen him do so weakly: and so much abhorred all visitation or honour, whereof he thought himself unworthy, that he besought his two noble friends to carry him away to a castle not far of, where he might cure his wounds, and never be known till he made success excuse this (as he thought) want in him. They lovingly obeyed him, leaving Basilius and all the camp very sorry for the parting of these three unknown Knights, in whose prowess they had reposed greatest trust of victory.   

CHAP. 19  
¹ The state of the leaguer, and beleaguered. ² The agonies of Amphialus. ³ The wit-craft of Cecropia, to threaten Basilius with the three Lady's death. ⁴ Kalander's compassion. ⁵ Philanax-his counter-counsell. ⁶ The breaking up the siege.  
But they being go, Basilius and argument key no. 1 Philanax gave good order to the strengthening of the siege, fortifying themselves, so as they feared no more any such sudden onset, as that of Anaxius. argument key no. 2 And they within (by reason of Anaxius hurt, but especially of Amphialus- his) gave themselves only to diligent watch & ward, making no sallies out, but committing the principal trust to Zoilus and Lycurgus. For Anaxius was yet forced to keep his chamber. And as for Amphialus, his body had such wounds, and gave such wounds to his mind, as easily it could not be determined, whither death or he made the greater haste one to the other: for when the diligent care of cunning surgeons, had brought life to the possession of his own right, Sorrow and Shame (like two corrupted servants) come waiting of it, persuading nothing but the giving over of itself to destruction. They laid before his eyes his present case, painting every piece of it in most ugly colours: they showed him his love wrapped in despair, his fame blotted by overthrow; so that if before he languished, because he could not obtain his desiring, he now lamented because he durst not desire the obtaining. Recreant Amphialus, (would he say to himself) how darest thou entitle thyself the lover of Philoclea, that hast neither showed thyself a faithful coward, nor a valiant rebel, but both rebellious and cowardly, which no law can quite, nor grace have pity of? Alas Life, what little pleasure thou dost me, to give me nothing but sense of reproach, and exercise of ruin? I would sweet Philoclea, I had died, before thy eyes had seen my weakness: & then perchance with some sigh thou wouldst have confessed, thou hadst lost a worthy servant. But now, caitiff that I am, what ever I have done, serves but to build up my rivals glory. To these speeches he would couple such gestures of vexation, & would fortify the gestures with such effects of fury, as sometimes ofiring to tear up his wounds, sometimes to refuse the sustenance of meat, & counsel of physicians, that his perplexed mother was driven to make him by force to be tended, with extreme corsie to herself, & annoyance to him: till in the end he was contented to promise' her, he would attempt no violence upon himself, upon condition he might be troubled by no body, but only his Physicians: his melancholy detesting all company, so as not the very surgeons nor servants durst speak unto him in doing him service: only he had prayed his mother, as she tendered his life, she would procure him grace; and that without that, she would never come at him more.  
argument key no. 3 His mother, who had confined all her love only unto him, set only such about him, as were absolutely at her commandment, whom she forbade to let him know any thing that passed in the castle, till his wounds were cured, but as she from time to time should instruct them: she (for herself) being resolved, now she had the government of all things in her own hands, to satisfy her sons love, by their yielding, or satisfy her own revenge in their punishment. Yet first, because he should be the freer from outward force, she sent a messenger to the camp, to denounce unto Basilius, that if he did not presently raise his siege, she would 'cause the heads of the three Ladies, prisoners, to be cut of before his eyes. And to make him the more fear a present performance, she caused his two daughters & Zelmane to be led unto the walls, where she had made a scaffold, easy to be seen by Basilius: and there caused them to be kept, as ready for the slaghter, till answer come from Basilius. A sight full of pity it was, to see those three (all excelling in all those excellencies, wherewith Nature can beautify any body: Pamela giving sweetness to majesty, Philoclea enriching nobleness with humbleness, Zelmane setting in womanly beauty manlike valour) to be thus subjecteth to the basest injury of unjust Fortune. One might see in Pamela a willingness to die, rather than to have life at others discretion, though sometimes a princely disdain would sparkle out of her Princely eyes, that it should be in others power to force her to die. In Philoclea a pretty fear come up, to endamaske her rosy cheeks: but it was such a fear, as rather seemed a kindly child to her innate humbleness, than any other dismaiednes: or if she were dismayed, it was more for Zelmane, then for herself; or if more for herself, it was because Zelmane should lose her. As for Zelmane, as she went with her hands bound (for they durst not adventure on her well known valour, especially among people which perchance might be moved by such a spectacle to some revolt) she was the true image of overmastered courage, & of spite, that sees no remedy. For her breast swollen withll, the blood burst out at her nose, and she looked paler than accustomed, with her eyes cast on the ground, with such a grace, as if she were fallen out with the heavens, for suffering such an injury. The lookers on were so moved withal, as they misliked what themselves did, and yet still did what themselves misliked. For some, glad to rid themselves of the dangerous annoyance of this siege, some willing to shorten the way to Amphialushis succession (whereon they were dependants) some, & the greatest some, doing because others did, and suffering because noon durst begin to hinder, did in this sort set their hands to this (in their own conscience) wicked enterprise.  
argument key no. 4 But when this message was brought to Basilius, & that this pitiful preparation was a sufficient letter of credit for him to believe it, he called unto him his chief councelors: among which, those he chief trusted were Philanax and Kalander (lately come to the camp at Basilius commandment, & in himself weary of his solitary life, wanting his son's presence, & never having heard him his beloved guests since they parted from him). Now in this doubt what he should do, he willed Kalander to give him his advise: who spoke much to this purpose. You command me Sir (said he) to speak, rather because you will keep your wont grave, & noble manner, to do nothing of importance without council, then that in this cause (which indeed hath but one way) your mind needs to have any counsel: so as my speech shall rather be to confirm what you have already determined, them to argue against any possibility of other determination. For what sophistical scholar can find any question in this, whither you will have your incomparable daughters live, or die? whither since you be here to 'cause their deliverance, you will make your being here the cause of their destruction? for nothing can be more unsensible, then to think what one doth, & to forget the end why it is done. Do therefore as I am sure you mean to do, remove the siege, and after seek by practice, or other gentle means, to recover that which by force you cannot: & thereof is indeed (when it please you) more counsel to be taken. Once, in extremities the winning of time is the purchase of life, & worse by no means then their deaths can befall unto you. A man might use more words, if it were to any purpose to gild gold, or that I had any cause to doubt of your mind: But you are wise, & are a father. He said no more, for he durst not attempt to persuade the marrying of his daughter to Amphialus, but left that to bring in at another consultation. But Basilius made sign to Philanax, who standing a while in a maze as inwardly perplexed, at last thus delivered his opinion.  
If ever I could wish my faith untried, & my counsel argument key no. 5 untrusted, it should be at this time, when in truth I must confess I would be content to purchase silence with discredit. But since you command, I obey: only let me say thus much, that I obey not to these excellent Lady's father, but to my Prince: & a Prince it is to whom I give counsel. Therefore as to a Prince I say, that the grave and (I well know) true-minded counsel of my Lord Kalander had come in good time when you first took arms, before all your subjects gate notice of your intention, before so much blood was spent, & before they were driven to seek this shift for their last remedy. But if now, this force you away, why did you take arms? since you might be sure when ever they were in extremity they would have recourse to this threatening? and for a wise man to take in hand that which his enemy may with a word overthrow, hath in my conceit great incongruity, & as great not to forethink what his enemy in reason will do. But they threaten they will kill your daughters. What if they promised you if you removed your siege, they would honourably sand home your daughters? would you be angled by their promises? truly no more aught you be terrified by their threatenings. For yet of the two, promise binds faith more then threatening. But indeed a Prince of judgement aught not to consider what his enemies promise, or threaten, but what the promisers and threatners in reason will do: & the nearest conjecture thereunto, is what is best for their own behoof to do. They threaten if you remove not, they will kill your daughters, and if you do remove, what surety have you, but that they will kill them, since if the purpose be to cut off all impediments of Amphialushis ambition, the same cause will continued when you are away; & so much the more encouraged, as the revenging power is absent, & they have the more opportunity to draw their factious friends about them: but if it be for their security only, the same cause will bring forth the same effect: & for their security they will preserve them. But it may be said, no man knows what desperate folks will do: it is true, and as true that no reason nor policy can prevent what desperate folks will do: & therefore they are among those dangers, which wisdom is not to reckon. Only let it suffice to take away their despair, which may be by granting pardon for what is past; so as the Ladies may be freely delivered. And let them that are your subjects, trust you that are their Prince: do not you subject yourself to trust them, who are so untrusty as to be manifest traitors. For if they find you so base-minded, as by their theatning to remove your force, what indignity is it, that they would not bring you unto, still by the same threatening since then if Love stir them, love will keep them from murdering what they love; and if Ambition provoke them, ambitious they will be, when you are away, as well as while you are here: take not away your force, which bars not the one, & bridles the other. For as for their shows and words they are but to fear babes, not worthy once to move a worthy man's conceit; which must still consider what in reason they are like to do. Their despair I grant you shall do well to prevent, which as it is the last of all resolutions, so no man falls into it, while so good a way as you may offer, is open unto them. In sum, you are a Prince, & a father of people, who aught with the eye of wisdom, the hand of fortitude, and the heart of justice to set down all private conceits, in comparison of what for the public is profitable.  
He would have proceeded on, when Gynoecia come running argument key no. 6 in amazed for her daughter Pamela, but mad for Zelmane; & falling at Basilius feet, besought him to make no delay: using such gestures of compassion instead of stopped words, that Basilius, otherwise enough tender minded, easily granted to raise the siege, which he seen dangerous to his daughters: but indeed more careful for Zelmane, by whose besieged person, the poor old man was straightly besieged: so as to rid him of the famine of his mind, he went in speed away; discharging his soldiers: only leaving the authority, as before, in Philanax his hands, he himself went with Gynoecia to a strong Castle of his, where he took counsel how first to deliver Zelmane, whom he called the poor stranger, as though only Law of hospitality moved him; and for that purpose sent divers messengers to traffic with Cecropia.   

CHAP. 20.  
² The sweet resistance of the true sisters ¹ to the sour assaults of their false Aunt. The whipping of ³ Philoclea ⁵ and Pamela ⁴ The patience of both ⁶ and passions for their lovers.  
argument key no. 1 CEcropia by this means rid of the present danger of the siege (desiring Zoilus and Lycurgus to take the care, till their brother recovered, of revictualling, and furnishing the City, both with men and what else wanted, against any new occasion should urge them, she herself disdaining to hearken to Basilius, without he would grant his daughter in marriage to her son, which by no means he would be brought unto) bent all the sharpness of her malicious wit, how to bring a comfortable grant to her son; whereupon she well found no less than his life depended. Therefore for a while she attempted all means of eloquent praying, and flattering persuasion, mingling sometimes gifts, sometimes threatenings, as she had cause to hope, that either open force, or undermining, would best win the castle of their Resolution. And ever as much as she did to Philoclea, so much did she to Pamela, though in manner sometimes differing, as she found sit to level at the ones noble height, and the others sweet lowliness. For though she knew her sons heart had wholly given itself to Philoclea, yet seeing the equal gifts in Pamela, she hoped, a fair grant would recover the sorrow of a fair refusal: cruelly intending the present empoisoning the one, as soon as the others affection were purchased.  
argument key no. 2 But in vain was all her vain oratory employed. Pamelaes' determination was built upon so brae a Rock, that no shot of hers could reach unto it: and Philoclea (though humbly seated) was so environed with sweet rivers of clear virtue, as could neither be battered, nor undermined: her witty persuasions had wife answers; her eloquence recompensed with sweetness; her threatenings repelled with disdain in the one, & patience in the other; her gifts either not accepted, or accepted to obey, but not to bind. So as Cecropia in nature violent; cruel, because ambitious; hateful, for old rooted grudge to their mother, & now spiteful because she could not prevail with girls, as she counted them; lastly, drawn on by her love to her son, & held up by a tyrannical authority, forthwith followed the bias of her own crooked disposition, & doubling and redoubling her threatenings, fell to confirm some of her threatened effects: first withdrawing all comfort, both of servants, & service from them. But that those excellent Ladies had been used unto, cven at home, & then found in themselves how much good the hardness of education doth to the resistrance of misery. Than dishonourably using them both in diet, and lodging, by a contempt to pull down their thoughts to yielding. But as before, the consideration of a prison had disgraced ornaments, so now the same consideration made them attended all diseasefulnes. Than still, as she found those not prevail, would she go forward with giving them terrors, sometimes with noices of horror, sometimes with sudden fright in the night, when the solitary darkness thereof might easier astonish the disarmed senses. But to all Virtue, and Love resisted, strengthened one by the other, when each found itself over-vehemently assaulted. Cecropia still sweetening her fiercenesses with fair promises, if they would promise' fair; that feeling evil, and sing a way far better, their minds might the sooner be mollified. But they that could not taste her behaviour, when it was pleasing, indeed could worse now, when they had lost all taste by her injuries.  
argument key no. 3 She resolving all extremities, rather than fail of conquest, Pursued on her rugged way: letting no day pass, without new and new perplexing the poor Lady's minds, and troubling their bodies: and still swelling, the more she was stopped, and growing hot with her own doings, at length, abominable rage carried her to absolute tyramnies, so that taking with her certain old women (of wicked dispositions, and apt for enuie-sake to be cruel to youth and beauty) with a countenance empoisoned with malice, flew to the sweet Philoclea, as if so many Kites should come about a white Dove, & matching violent gestures with mischievous threatenings, she having a rod in her hand (like a fury that should carry wood to the burning of Dienas' temple) fell to scourge that most beautiful body: Love in vain holding the shield of Beauty against her blind cruelty. The Son drew clouds up to hide his face from so pitiful a sight; & the very stone walls did yield drops of sweat for agony of such a mischief: each senseless thing had sense of pity; only they that had sense, were senseless. Virtue rarely found her worldly weakness more, then by the oppression of that day: and weeping Cupid told his weeping mother, that he was sorry he was not deaf, as well as blind, that he might never know so lamentable a work. Phloclea, with tearful eyes, and sobbing breast (as soon as her weariness rather than compassion, gave her respite) kneeled dow to Cercropia, and making pity in her face honourable, and torment delightful, besought her, since she hated her (for what cause she took God to witness she knew not) that she would at once take away her life, and not please herself with the tormenting of a poor Gentlewoman. If (said she) the common course of Humanity cannot move you, nor the having me in your own walls, cannot claim pity: nor womanly mercy, nor near alliance, nor remembrance (how miserable so ever now) that I am a Princes daughter; yet let the love (you have often told me) your son bears me, so much procure, that for his sake, one death may be thought enough for me; I have not lived so many years, but that one death may be able to conclude them: neither have my faults, I hope, been so many, but that one death may satisfy them. It is no great svite to an enemy, when but death is desired. I crave but that, and as for the granting your request, know for certain you loose your labours, being every day further of-minded from becoming his wife, who useth me like a slave. But that in stead of getting grace renewed again Cecropias' fury: so that (excellent creature) she was newly again tormented by those hellish monsters: Cecropia using no other words, but that she was a proud and ungrateful wench: and that she would teach her to know her own good, since of herself she would not conceive it.  
argument key no. 4 So with silence and patience (like a fair gorgeous armour, hammered upon by an ill-favoured Smith) she abode their pitiles dealing with her: till, rather reserving her for more, then meaning to end, they left her to an uncomfortable leisure, to consider with herself her fortune; both helpless herself, being a prisoner, and hopeless, since Zelmane was a prisoner: who therein only was short of the bottom of misery, that she knew not how unworthily her Angel, by these devils was abused: but wanted (God wots) no stings of grief, when those words did but strike upon her heart, that Philoclea was a captive, and she not able to secure her. For well she knew the confidence Philoclea had in her, and well she knew, Philoclea had cause to have confidence: and all trodden under foot by the wheel of argument key no. 6 senseless Fortune. Yet if there be that imperious power in the soul, as it can deliver knowledge to another, without bodily organs; so vehement were the work of their spirits, as one met with other, though themselves perceived it not, but only thought it to be the doubling of their own loving fancies. And that was the only worldly thing, whereon Philoclea rested her mind, that she knew she should die beloved of Zelmane, and should die, rather than be false to Zelmane. And so this most dainty Nymph, easing the pain of her mind with thinking of another's pain; and almost forgetting the pain of her body, through the pain of her mind, she wasted, even longing for the conclusion of her tedious tragedy.  
But for a while she was unuisited, Cecropia employing argument key no. 5 her time in using the like cruelty upon Pamela, her heart growing not only to desire the fruit of punishing them, but even to delight in the punishing them. But if ever the beams of perfection shined through the clouds of affliction, if ever Virtue took a body to show his (else unconceaveable) beauty, it was in Pamela. For when Reason taught her there was no resistance, (for to just resistance first her heart was inclined) then with so heavenly a quietness, and so graceful a calmness, did she suffer the divers kinds of torments they used to her, that while they vexed her fair body, it seemed, that she rather directed, then obeyed the vexation. And when Cecropia ended, and asked whither her heart would yield: she a little smiled, but such a smiling as showed no love, and yet could not but be lovely. And then, Beastly woman (said she) follow on, do what thou wilt, and canst upon me: for I know thy power is not unlimited. Thou mayst well wrack this sillic body, but me thou canst never overthrow. For my part, I will not do thee the pleasure to desire death of thee: but assure thyself, both my life and death, shall triumph with honour, laying shame upon thy derestable tyranny.  
And so, in effect, conquering their doing with her argument key no. 4 suffering, while Cecropia tried as many sorts of pains, as might rather vex them, then spoil them (for that she would not do while she were in any hope to win either of them for her son) Pamela remained almost as much content with trial in herself, what virtue could do, as grieved with the misery wherein she found herself plunged: only sometimes her thoughts softened in her, when with open wings they flew to Musidorus. argument key no. 6 For then she would think with herself, how grievously Musidorus would take this her misery; and she, that wept not for herself, wept yet Musidorus-his tears, which he would weep for her. For gentle Love did easilier yield to lamentation, than the constancy of virtue would else admit. Than would she remember the case wherein she had left her poor shepherd, and she that wished death for herself, feared death for him; and she that condemned in herself the feebleness of sorrow, yet thought it great reason to be sorry for his sorrow: & she that long had prayed for the virtuous joining themselves together, now thinking to die herself, heartily prayed, that long time their fortunes might be separated. Live long my Musidorus (would she say) and let my name live in thy mouth; in thy heart my memory. Live long, that thou mayst love long the chaste love of thy dead Pamela. Than would she wish to herself, that no other woman might ever possess his heart: and yet scarcely the wish was made a wish, when herself would find fault with it, as being too unjust, that so excellent a man should be banished from the comfort of life. Than would she fortify her resolution, with bethinking the worst, taking the counsel of virtue, and comfort of love.   

CHAP. 21.  
¹ Cecropias' indurate tyrannies. ² Her devise with the death of one to threaten another. ³ Philoclea threatened, persisteth. ⁴ The execution done in sight of Philoclea & Zelmane. ⁵ Philoclea's sorrow for her sister.  
SO these diamonds of the world argument key no. 1 whom Nature had made to be preciously set in the eyes of her creatures, to be the chief works of her workmanship, the chief ornaments of the world, and Princesses of felicity, by rebellious injury were brought to the uttermost distress that an enemies heart could wish, or a woman's spite invent: Cecropia daily in one or other sort punishing than, still with her evil torments giving them fear of worse, making the fear itself the sorriest torment of all; that in the end weary of their bodies they should be content to bestow them at her appointment. But as in labour, the more one doth exercise it, the more by the doing one is enhabled to do; strength growing upon the work, so as what at first would have seemed impossible, after grows easy: so these Princesses second to noon, and far from any second, only to be matched by themselves, with the use of suffering their minds got the habit of suffering so, as all fears & terrors were to them but summons to a battle, whereof they knew before hand they would be victorious, & which in the suffering was painful, being suffered, was a trophy to itself: whereby Cecropia found herself still farther of: for where at first she might perchance have persuaded them to have visited her son, and have given him some comfort in his sickness, drawing near to the confines of Death's kingdom, now they protested, that they would never otherwise speak to him, then as to the enemy, of most unjust cruelty towards them, that any time or place could ever make them know.  
argument key no. 2 This made the poison swell in her cankered breast, perceiving that (as in water) the more she grasped the less she held: but yet now having run so long the way of rigour, it was too late in reason, and too contrary to her passion, to return to a course of meekness. And therefore (taking counsel of one of her old associates who so far excelled in wickedness as that she had not only lost all feeling of conscience, but had gotten a very glory in evil) in the end they determined, that beating, and other such sharp dealing did not so much pull down a woman's heart, as it bred anger, and that nothing was more enemy to yielding, than anger; making their tender hearts take on the armour of obstinacy: (for thus did their wicked minds blind to the light of virtue, & owly eyed in the night of wickedness interpret of it) & that therefore that was no more to be tried. And for fear of death (which no question would do most with them) they had been so often threatened, as they began to be familiarly acquainted with it, and learned to esteem threatening words to be but words. Therefore the last, but best way now was, that the one sing indeed the others death, should perceive, there was no dallying meant: and then there was no doubt, that a woman's soul would do much, rather than leave so beautiful a body.  
argument key no. 3 This being concluded, Cecropia went to Philoclea, and told her, that now she was to come to the last part of the play: for her part, though she found her hard hearted obstinacy such, that neither the sweetness of loving means, nor the force of hard means could prevail with her, yet before she would pass to a further degree of extremity; she had sought to win her sister; in hope, that her son might be with time satisfied with the love of so fair a Lady: but finding her also rather more then less wilful, she was now minded that one of their deaths should serve for an example to the other, that despising worthy folks was more hurtful to the despiser; then the despised: that yet because her son especially affected her, & that in her own self she was more inclinable to pity her, than she had deserved, she would begin with her sister; who that afternoon should have her head cut of before her face; if in the mean time one of them, did not pull out their il-wrought stitches of unkindness, she bade her look for no other, nor longer time than she told her. There was no assault given to the sweet Philoclea's mind, that entered so far, as this: for where to all pains and dangers of herself, foresight with (his Lieutenant Resolution) had made ready defence; now with the love she bore her sister, she was driven to a stay, before she determined: but long she stayed not, before this reason did shine unto her, that since in herself she preferred death before such a base servitude, love did teach her to wish the same to her sister. Therefore crossing her arms, & looking sideward upon the ground, Do what you will (said she) with us: for my part, heaven shall melt before I be removed. But if you will follow my counsel, for your own sake (for as for prayers for my sake I have felt how little they prevail) let my death first serve for example to win her, who perchance is not so resolved against Amphialus, and so shall you not only justly punish me (who indeed do hate both you and your son) but, if that may move you, you shall do more virtuously in preserving one most worthy of life, and kill an other most desirous of death: lastly in winning her, in steed of a peevish unhappy creature, that I am, you shall bless your son with the most excellent woman in all praise- worthy things, that the world holdeth. But Cecropia, (who had already set down to herself what she would do) with bitter both terms, & countenance, told her, that she should not need to woe death over-egerly: for if her sister going before her did not teach her wit, herself should quickly follow. For since they were not to be gotten, there was no way for her sons quiet, but to know, that they were passed getting. And so since no entreating, nor threatening might prevail, she bade her prepare her eyes for a new play, which she should see within few hours in the hall of that castle.  
argument key no. 4 A place indeed overfit for so unfit a matter: for being so stately made that the bottom of it being even with the ground, the roof reached as high as any part of the castle, at either end it had convenient lodgings. In the one end was (one story from the ground) Philoclea's abode, in the other of even height, Pamela's, and Zelmane's in a chamber above her: but all so vaulted of strong, and thickly built stone, as one could no way hear the other: each of these chambers had a little window to look into the hall, but because the sisters should not have so much comfort, as to look out to one another, there was (of the outsides) curtains drawn, which they could not reach with their hands, so barring the reach of their sight. But when the hour come that the Tragedy should begin, the curtains were withdrawn from before the windows of Zelmane, and of Philoclea: a sufficient challenge to call their eyes to defend themselves in such an encounter. And by and by come in at one end of the hall, with about a dozen armed soldiers a Lady, led by a couple, with her hands bound before her: from above her eyes to her lips muffled with a fair kerchief, but from her mouth to the shoulders all bore: and so was led on to a scaffold raised a good deal from the floor, and all covered with crimson velvet. But neither Zelmane, nor Philoclea needed to be told, who she was: for the apparel she ware made them too well assured, that it was the admirable Pamela. Whereunto the rare whiteness of her naked neck gave sufficient testimony to their astonnished senses. But the fair Lady being come to the scaffold, and then made to kneel down, and so left by her unkind supporters, as it seemed that she was about to speak somewhat (whereunto Philoclea, poor soul, earnestly listened, according to her speech even minded to frame her mind, her heart never till then almost wavering to save her sister's life) before the unfortunate Lady could pronounce three words, the executioner cut of the ones speech, and the others attention, with making his sword do his cruel office upon that beautiful neck. Yet the pitiless sword had such pity of so precious an object, that at first it did but hit flat long. But little availed that, since the Lady falling down astonnished withal, the cruel villain forced the sword with another blow to divorce the fair marriage of the head and body.  
And this was done so in an instant, that the very act argument key no. 5 did overrun Philoclea's sorrow (sorrow not being able so quickly to thunderbolt her heart through her senses, but first only oppressed her with a storm of amazement) but when her eyes seen that they did see, as condemning themselves to have seen it, they become weary of their own power of sing: & her soul then drinking up woe with great draughts, she fell down to deadly trances: but her waiting jailers with cruel pity brought loathed life unto her; which yet many times took his leave as though he would indeed departed: but when he was stayed by force, he kept with him deadly Sorrow, which thus exercised her mourning speech. Pamela my sister, my sister Pamela, woe is me for thee, I would I had died for thee. Pamela never more shall I see thee: never more shall I enjoy thy sweet company, and wise counsel. Alas, thou art go to beautify heaven, and haste thou left me here, who have nothing good in me, but that I did ever love thee, and ever will lament thee Let this day be noted of all virtuous folks for most unfortunate: let it never be mentioned, but among curses; and cursed be they that did this mischief, and most accursed be my eyes that beheld it. Sweet Pamela; that head is stricken of, where only wisdom might be spoken withal; that body is destroyed, which was the living book of virtue. Dear Pamela, how hast thou left me to all wretchedness, and misery? Yet while thou livedst, in thee I breathed, of thee I hoped. OH Pamela, how much did I for thy excellency honour thee, more than my mother, and love thee more than myself? Never more shall I lie with thee: never more shall we bathe in the pleasant river together: never more shall I see thee in thy shepherd apparel. But thou art go, and where am I? Pamela is dead; and live I? My God, And with that she fell again in a son, so as it was a great while before they could bring her to herself again; but being come to herself, Alas (said she) unkind women, since you have given me so many deaths, torment me not now with life: for God's sake let me go, and excuse your hands of more blood. Let me follow my Pamela, whom ever I sought to follow. Alas Pamela, they will not let me come to thee. But if they keep promise, I shall tread thy own steps after thee. For to what am I borne (miserable soul) but to be most unhappy in myself, and yet more unhappy in other? But o that a thousand more miseries had happened unto me, so thou hadst not died: Pamela, my sister Pamela. And so, like lamentable Philomela, complained she the horrible wrong done to her sister, which if it stirred not in the wickedly closed minds of her tormentors, a pity of her sorrow, yet bred it a weariness of her sorrow: so as only leaving one to prevent any harm she should do herself, the rest went away, consulting again with Cecropia, how to make profit of this their late bloody act.   

CHAP. 22.  
¹ Cecropias' policy to use Zelmane's intercession. ² Zelmane's selfe-conflict. ³ Her motion to Philoclea rather to dissemble then die. ⁴ Philoclea's resolution rather to die then dissemble. ⁵ At sight of Philoclea's head Zelmane's ecstasies, ⁷ desperate deseignes, ⁸ and comfortless complaints.  
argument key no. 1 IN the end, that woman that used most to keep company with Zelmane, told Cecropia, that she found by many most sensible proofs in Zelmane, that there was never woman so loved another, as she loved Philoclea: which was the cause that she (further than the commandment of Cecropia) had caused Zelmane's curtains to be also drawn: because having the same spectacle that Philoclea had, she might stand in the greater fear for her, whom she loved so well: and that indeed she had hit the needle in that devise: for never seen she creature so astonished as Zelmane, exceedingly sorry for Pamela, but exceedingly exceeding that exceedingne in fear for Philoclea. Therefore her advice was, she should 'cause Zelmane to come and speak with Philoclea. For there being such vehemency of friendship between them, it was both likely to move Zelmane to persuade, and Philoclea to be persuaded. Cecropia liked well of the counsel, and gave order to the same woman to go deal therein with Zelmane, and to assure her with oath, that Cecropia was determined Philoclea should pass the same way that Pamela had done, without she did yield to satisfy the extremity of her sons affection: which the woman did, adding thereunto many (as she thought) good reasons to make Zelmane think Amphialus a fit match for Philoclea.  
argument key no. 2 But Zelmane (who had from time to time understood the cruel dealing they had used to the sisters, & now had her own eyes wounded with the sight of ones death) was so confused withal (her courage still rebelling against her wit, desiring still with force to do impossible matters) that as her desire was stopped with power, so her conceit was darkened with a mist of desire. For blind Love, & invincible valour still would cry out, that it could not be, Philoclea should be in so miserable estate, and she not relieve her: and so while she haled her wit to her courage, she drew it from his own limits. But now Philoclea's death (a word able to marshal all his thoughts in order) being come to so short a point either with small delay to be suffered, or by the giving herself to another to be prevented, she was driven to think, and to desire some leisure of thinking: which the woman granted for that night unto her. A night that was not half so black, as her mind; not half so silent, as was fit for her musing thoughts. At last, he that would feign have desperately lost a thousand lives for her sake, could not find in his heart, that she should lose any life for her own sake; and he that despised his own death in respect of honour, yet could well nigh dispense with honour itself in respect of Philoclea's death: for once the thought could not enter into his heart, nor the breath issue out of his mouth, which could consent to Philoclea's death for any bargain. Than how to prevent the next degree to death (which was her being possessed by another) was the point of his minds labour: and in that he found no other way, but that Philoclea should pretend a yielding unto Cecropias' request; & so by speaking with Amphialus, and making fair (but delaying) promises, procure liberty for Zelmane; who only wished but to come by a sword, not doubting then to destroy them all, and deliver Philoclea: so little did both the men, and their forces seem in her eyes, looking down upon them from the high top of affections tower.  
argument key no. 3 With that mind therefore (but first well bound) she was brought to Philoclea, having already plotted out in her conceit, how she would deal with her: & so come she with heart and eyes, which did each sacrifice either to Love upon the altar of Sorrow: and there had she the pleasing displeasing sight of Philoclea: Philoclea, whom already the extreme sense of sorrow had brought to a dullness therein, her face not without tokens that beauty had been by many miseries cruelly battered, & yet showed it most the perfection of the beauty, which could remain unoverthrowne by such enemies. But when Zelmane was set down by her, & the women go away (because she might be the better persuaded when no body was by, that had heard her say she would not be persuaded) then began first the eyes to speak, and the hearts to cry out: Sorrow a while would needs speak his own language without using their tongues to be his interpreters. At last Zelmane broke silence, but spoke with the only eloquence of amazement: for all her long methodized oration was inherited only by such kind of speeches. Dear Lady, in extreme necessities we must not. But alas unfortunate wretch that I am, that I live to see this day. And I take heaven and earth to witness, that nothing: and with that her breast swollen so with spite and grief, that her breath had not leisure to turn herself into words. But the sweet Philoclea that had already died in Pamela, and of the other side had the heaviness of her heart something quickened in the most beloved sight of Zelmane, guessed somewhat at Zelmane's mind; and therefore spoke unto her in this sort. My Pyrocles (said she) I know this exceeding comfort of your presence, is not brought unto me for any goodwill that is owed unto me: but (as I suppose) to make you persuade me to save my life with the ransom of my honour: although no body should be so unfit a pleader in that cause, as yourself, yet perchance you would have me live. Your honour? God forbidden (said Zelmane) that ever, for any cause, I should yield to any touch of it. But a while to pretend some affection, till time, or my liberty might work something for your service: this, if my astonished senses would give me leave, I would feign have persuaded you.  
To what purpose my Pyrocles? (said Philoclea) of a argument key no. 4 miserable time what gain is there? hath Pamelaes' example wrought no more in me? is a captive life so much worth? can ever it go out of these lips, that I love any other but Pyrocles? shall my tongue be so false a traitor to my heart, as to say I love any other but Pyrocles? And why should I do all this? to live? OH Pamela, sister Pamela, why should I live? only for thy sake Pyrocles I would live: but to thee I know too well I shall not live; and if not to thee, hath thy love so base allay, my Pyrocles, as to wish me to live? for dissimulation, my Pyrocles, my simplicity is such, that I have hardly been able to keep a straightway; what shall I do in a croonked? But in this case there is no mean of dissimulation, not for the cunningest: present answer is required, and present performance upon the answer. Art thou so terrible, o Death? Not my Pyrocles; and for that I do thank thee, and in my soul thank thee; for I confess the love of thee is herein my chiefest virtue. Trouble me not therefore, dear Pyrocles, nor double not my death by tormenting my resolution: since I cannot live with thee, I will die for thee. Only remember me dear Pyrocles; and love the remembrance of me: and if I may crave so much of thee, let me be thy last love, for though I be not worthy of thee (who indeed art the worthiest creature living) yet remember that my love was a worthy love. But Pyrocles was so overcome with sorrow (which wisdom & virtue made just in so excellent a Lady's case, full of so excellenr kindness) that words were ashamed to come forth knowing how weak they were to express his mind, & her merit: and therefore so stayed in a deadly silence, forsaken of hope, & forsaking comfort: till the appointed guardians come in, to see the fruits of Zelmane's labour: & then Zelmane warned by their presence, selagaine to persuade, though scarcely herself could tell what; but in sum, desirous of delays. But Philoclea sweetly continuing constant, & in the end punishing her importunity with silence, Zelmane was feign to end. Yet craving an other times conference, she obtained it, & divers others; till at the last Cecropia found it was to no purpose, and therefore determined to follow her own way. Zelmane yet still desirous to win (by any means) respite, even wasted with sorrow, & uncertain, whither in worse case in her presence, or absence, being able to do nothing for Philoclea's succour, but by submitting the greatest courage of the earth to fall at the feet of Cecropia, and crave stay of their sentence till the uttermost was seen, what her persuasions might do.  
argument key no. 5 Cecropia seemed much to be moved by her importunity, so as divers days were won of painful life to the excellent Philoclea: while Zelmane suffered some hope to cherish her mind, especially trusting upon the help of Musidorus, who (she knew) would not be idle in this matter, till one morning a noise awaked Zelmane, from whose over-watchfull mind, the tired body had stolen a little sleep: and strength with the first opening of her eyes, Care taking the wonted place, she ran to the window which looked into the hall (for that way the noise guided her,) and there might she see (the curtain being left open ever since the last execution) seven or eight persons in a cluster upon the seaffold: who by & by retiring themselves, nothing was to be seen thereupon, but a basin of gold, pitifully enamelled with blood, and in the midst of it, the head of the most beautiful Philoclea. The horribleness of the mischief was such, as Pyrocles could not at first believe his own senses, but bent his woeful eyes to discern it better: where too well he might see it was Philoclea's self, having no veil, but beauty, over the face, which still appeared to be alive: so did those eyes shine, even as they were wont, and they were wont more than any other: and sometimes as they moved, it might well make the beholder think, that death therein had borrowed their beauty, and not they any way disgraced by death: so sweet and piercing a grace they carried with them.  
It was not a pity, it was not an amazement, it was not a sorrow which then laid hold on Pyrocles, but a wild fury of desperate agony, so that he cried out, OH tyrant heaven, traitor earth, blind providence; no justice, how is this done? how is this suffered? hath this world a government? If it have, let it pour out all his mischiefs upon me, and see whither it have power to make me more wretched than I am. Did she excel for this? have I prayed for this? abominable hand that did it; detestable devil that commanded it; cursed light that beheld it: and if the light be cursed, what are then my eyes that have seen it? And have I seen Philoclea dead, and do I live? and have I lived, nor to help her, but to talk of her? and stand I still talking? And with that (carried with the madness of anguish, not having a readier way to kill himself) he ran as hard as ever he could, with his head against the wall, with intention to brain himself: but the haste to do it, made the doing the flower. For, as he come to give the blow, his foot tripped, so as it come not with the full force: yet forcible enough to strike him down, and withal, to deprive him of his sense, so that he lay a while, comforted by the hurt, in that he felt not his discomfort.  
argument key no. 7 And when he come again to himself, he heard, or he thought he heard a voice, which cried, Revenge, Revenge; whither indeed it were his good Angel, which used that voice to stay him from unnatural murdering of himself; or that his wandering spirits lighted upon that conceit, and by their weakness (subject to apprehensions) supposed they heard it. But that indeed, helped with Virtue, and her valiant servant Anger, stopped him from present destroying himself: yielding, in reason and manhood, first to destroy, man, woman, and child, that were any way of kin to them that were accessary to this cruelty; then to raze the Castle, and to build a sumptuous monument for her sister, and a most sumptuous for herself; and then, himself to die upon her tomb. This determining in himself to do, and to seek all means how (for that purpose) to get out of prison: he was content a while to bear the thirst of death: and yet went he again to the window, to kiss the beloved head with his eyes, but there seen he nothing but the seaffold, all covered over with scarlet, and nothing but solitary silence, to mourn this mischief. But then, Sorrow having dispersed itself from his heart, in all his noble parts, it proclaimed his authority, in cries, and tears, and with a more gentle dolefulness, could pour out his inward cuill.  
Alas (said he) and is that head taken away too, so argument key no. 8 soon from my eyes? What, my eyes, perhaps they envy the excellency of your sorrow? Indeed, there is nothing now jest to become the eyes of all mankind, but tears: and woe be to me, if any exceed me in woefulness. I do conjure you all, my senses, to accept no object, but of Sorrow: be ashamed, nay, abhor to think of comfort. Unhappy eyes, you have seen too much, that ever the light should be welcome to you: unhappy ears, you shall never hear the music of Music in her voice: unhappy heart, that hast lived to feel these pangs. Thou hast done thy worst, World, & cursed be thou, and cursed art thou, since to thy own self thou hast done the worst thou couldst do. Exiled Beauty, let only now thy beauty be blubbered faces. Widowed Music, let now thy tunes be roar, and lamentations. Orphan Virtue, get thee wings, and fly after her into heaven; here is no dwelling place for thee. Why lived I, alas? Alas why loved I? to die wretched, and to be the example of the heavens hate? And hate, & spare not, for your worst blow is stricken. Sweet Philoclea, thou art go, and hast carried with thee my love; & hast thy love in me, & I wretched man do live; I live, to die continually, till thy revenge do give me leave to die: & then die I will, my Philoclea, my heart willingly makes this promise to itself. Surely he did not look upon thee, that gave the cruel blow: for no eye could have abidden to see such beauty overthrown by such mischief. Alas, why should they divide such a head from such a body? no other body is worthy of that head; no other head is worthy of that body: OH yet, if I had taken my last leave, if I might have taken a holy kiss from that dying mouth. Where art thou Hope which promisest never to leave a man while he liveth? Tell me, what canst thou hope for? nay tell me, what is there which I would willingly hope after? Wishing power (which is accounted infinite) what now is jest to wish for? She is go, and go with her all my hope; all my wishing. Love, be ashamed to be called Love: cruel Hate, unspeakable Hate is victorious over thee. Who is there now left, that can justify thy tyranny, and give reason to thy passion? OH cruel divorce of the sweetest marriage that ever was in Nature: Philoclea is dead, and dead is with her all goodness, all sweetness, all excellency. Philoclea is dead, and yet Life is not ashamed to continued upon the earth. Philoclea is dead: OH deadly word; which containeth in itself the uttermost of all misfortunes. But happy word when thou shalt be said of me, and long it shall not be, before it be said.   

CHAP. 17.  
¹ A Ladies kind comforts to Pyrocles comfortless unkindness. ² His hardly knowing her. ³ Her unmasking of Cecropias' fruitless sophistry. ⁴ Their medley of solace and sorrow.  
THen stopping his words with argument key no. 1 sighs, drowning his sighs in tears, & drying again his tears in rage, he would sit a while in a wandering muse, which represented nothing but vexations unto him: then throwing himself sometimes upon the floor, and sometimes upon the bed: then up again, till walking was wearisome, and rest loathsome: and so neither suffering food, nor sleep to help his afflicted nature, all that day and night he did nothing, but weep philoclea, sigh philoclea, and cry out philoclea: till as it happened (at that time upon his bed) toward the dawning of the day, he heard one stir in his chamber, by the motion of garments; and he with an angry voice asked, Who was there? A poor Gentlewoman (answered the party) that wish long life unto you. And I soon death to you (said he) for the horrible curse you have given me. Certainly (said she) an unkind answer, and far unworthy the excellency of your mind; but not unsuitable to the rest of your behaviour. For most part of this night I have heard you (being let into your chamber, you never perceiving it, so was your mind estranged from your senses) and have heard nothing of Zelmane, in Zelmane, nothing but weak wailings, fit for some nurse of a village, then so famous a creature as you are. OH God (cried out Pyrocles) that thou wert a man that usest these words unto me. I tell thee I am sorry: I tell thee I will be sorry in despite of thee, and all them that would have me joyful. And yet (replied she) perchance philoclea is not dead, whom you so much bemoan. I would we were both dead of that condition, said Pyrocles. See the folly of your passion (said she) as though you should be nearer to her, you being dead, and she alive; then she being dead, & you alive: & if she be dead, was she not borne to die? what then do you cry out for? not for her, who must have died one time or other; but for some few years: so as it is time, & this world that seem so lovely things, and not philoclea unto you. OH noble Sisters (cried Pyrocles) now you be go (who were the only exalters of all womankind) what is left in that sex, but babbling, and business? And truly (said she) I will yet a little longer trouble you. Nay, I pray you do (said Pyrocles) for I wish for nothing in my short life, but mischiefs, and cumbers: and I am content you shall be one of them. In truth (said she) you would think yourself a greatly privileged person, if since the strongest buildings, and lastingest monarchies are subject to end, only your philoclea (because she is yours) should be exempted. But indeed you bemoan yourself, who have lost a friend: you cannot her, who hath in one act both preserved her honour, and left the miseries of this world. OH woman's philosophy, childish folly (said Pyrocles) as though if I do bemoan myself, I have not reason to do so, having lost more than any Monarchy, nay then my life can be worth unto me. Alas (said she) comfort yourself, Nature did not forget her skill, when she had made them: you shall found many their superiors, and perchance such, as (when your eyes shall look abroad) yourself will like better.  
argument key no. 2 But that speech put all good manners out of the conceit of Pyrocles; in so much, that leaping out of his bed, he ran to have stricken her: but coming near her (the morning then winning the field of darkness) he seen, or he thought he saw, indeed, the very face of philoclea; the same sweetness, the same grace, the same beauty: with which carried into a divine astonishment, he fell down at her feet. Most blessed Angel (said he) well haste thou done to take that shape, since thou wouldst submit thyself to mortal sense; for a a more Angelical form could not have been created for thee. Alas, even by that excellent beauty, so beloved of me, let it be lawful for me to ask of thee, what is the cause, that she, that heavenly creature, whose form you have taken, should by the heavens be destined to so unripe an end? Why should unjustice so prevail? Why was she seen to the world, so soon to be ravished from us? Why was she not suffered to live, to teach the world perfection? Do not deceive thyself (answered she) I am no Angel; I am philoclea, the same philoclea, so truly loving you, so truly beloved of you. If it be so (said he) that you are indeed the soul of philoclea, you have done well to keep your own figure: for no heaven could have given you a better. Than alas, why have you taken the pains to leave your blissful seat to come to this place most wretched, to me, who am wretchedness itself, & not rather obtain for me, that I might come where you are, there eternally to behold, & eternally to love your beauties? you know (I know) that I desire nothing but death, which I only stay, to be justly revenged of your unjust murtheres. Dear Pyrocles (said she) I am thy philoclea, and as yet living: not murdered, as you supposed, and therefore to be comforted. And with that gave him her hand. But the sweet touch of that hand, seemed to his astraied powers so heavenly a thing, that it rather for a while confirmed him in his former belief: till she, with vehement protestations (and desire that it might be so, helping to persuade that it was so) brought him to yield; yet doubtfully to yield to this height of all comfort, that philoclea lived: which witnessing with the tears of joy, Alas (said he) how shall I believe my eyes any more? or do you yet but appear thus unto me, to stay me from some desperate end? For alas I saw the excellent Pamela beheaded: I seen your head (the head indeed, and chief part of all nature's works) standing in a dish of gold, too mean a shrine (God wot) for such a relic. How can this be, my only dear, and you live? or if this be not so, how can I belceeve my own senses? and if I can not believe them, why should I now believe these blessed tidings they bring me?  
argument key no. 3 The truth is (said she) my Pyrocles, that neither I (as you find) nor yet my dear sister is dead: although the mischievously subtle Cecropia used slights to make either of us think so of other. For, having in vain attempted the farthest of her wicked eloquence, to make either of us yield to her son, and seeing that neither it, accompanied with great flatteries, and rich presents, could get any ground of us, nor yet the violent way she fell into of cruelty, tormenting our bodies, could prevail with us; at last, she made either of us think the other dead, and so hoped to have wrested our minds to the forgetting of virtue: and first she gave to my eyes the miserable spectacle of my sisters (as I thought) death: but indeed not my sister: it was only Artesia, she who so cunningly brought us to this misery. Truly I am sorry for the poor Gentlewoman, though justly she be punished for her double falsehood: but Artesia muffled so, as you could not easily discern her; and in my sister's apparel (which they had taken from her under colour of giving her Other) did they execute: And when I (for thy sake especially dear Pyrocles) could by no force, nor fear be won, they assayed the like with my sister, by bringing me down under the scaffold, and (making me thrust my head up through a hole they had made therein) they did put about my poor neck a dish of gold, where out they had beaten the bottom, so as having set blood in it, you saw how I played the part of death (God knows even willing to have done it in earnest) and so had they set me, that I reached but on tiptoes to the ground, so as scarcely I could breath, much less speak: And truly if they had kept me there any whitlonger, they had strangled me, in steed of beheading me: but than they took me away, and seeking to see their issue of this practice, they found my noble sister (for the dear love she vouchsafeth to bear me) so grieved withal, that she willed them to do their uttermost cruelty unto her: for she vowed, never to receive sustenance of them, that had been the causers of my murder: and finding both of us, even given over, not like to live many hours longer, and my sister Pamela, rather worse than myself, (the strength of her heart worse bearing those indignities) the good woman Cecropia (with the same pity as folks keep soul, when they are not fat enough for their eating) made us know her deceit, & let us come one to another; with what joy you can well imagine, who I know feel the like; saving that we only thought ourselves reserved to miseries, and therefore fit for condoling, then congratulating. For my part, I am fully persuaded, it is but with a little respite, to have a more feeling sense of the torments she prepares for us. True it is, that one of my guardians would have me to believe, that this proceeds of my gentle cousin Amphialus: who having heard some inkling that we were evil entreated, had called his mother to his bedside, from whence he never rose since his last combat, and besought, & charged her upon all the love she bore him, to use us with all kindness: vowing, with all the imprecations he could imagine, that if ever he understood for his sake, that I received further hurt than the want of my liberty, he would not live an hour longer. And the good woman swore to me that he would kill his mother, if he knew how I had been dealt with; but that Cecropia keeps him from understanding things how they pass, only having heard a whispering, and myself named, he had (of abundance, forsooth, of honourable love) given this charge for us. Whereupon this enlargement of my was grown: for my part I know too well their cunning (who leave no money unoffered that may buy my honour) to believe any word they say, but (my dear Pyrocles) even look for the worst, and prepare myself for the same. Yet I must confess, I was content to rob from death, and borrow of my misery the sweet comfort of seeing my sweet sister, and most sweet comfort of thee my Pyrocles. And so having leave, I come stealing into your chamber: where (OH Lord) what a joy it was unto me, to hear you solemnize the funerals of the poor Philoclea? That I myself might live to hear my death bewailed? and by whom? by my dear Pyrocles. That I seen death was not strong enough to divide thy love from me? OH my Pyrocles, I am too well paid for my pains I have suffered: joyful is my woe for so noble a cause; and welcome be all miseries, since to thee I am so welcome. Alas how I pitied to hear thy pity of me; and yet a great while I could not find in my heart to interrupt thee, but often had even pleasure to weep with thee: and so kindly come forth thy lamentations, that they enforced me to lament to, as if indeed I had been a looker on, to see poor philoclea die. Till at last I spoke with you, to try whither I could remove thee from sorrow, till I had almost procured myself a beating.  
And with that she prettily smiled, which, mingled argument key no. 4 with her tears, one could not tell whither it were a mourning pleasure, or a delightful sorrow: but like when a few April drops are scattered by a gentle Zephyrus among fine coloured flowers. But Pyrocles, who had felt (with so small distance of time) in himself the overthrow both of hope and despair, knew not to what key he should tune his mind, either of joy, or sorrow. But finding perfit reason in neither, suffered himself to be carried by the tide of his imagination, & his imaginations to be raised even by the sway, which hearing or sing, might give unto them: he seen her alive, he was glad to see her alive: he seen her weep, he was sorry to see her weep: he heard her comfortable speeches, nothing more gladsome: he hard her prognosticating her own destruction, nothing more doleful. But when he had a little taken breath from the panting motion of such contrariety in passions, he fell to consider with her of her present estate, both comforting her, that certainly the worst of this storm was past, since already they had done the worst, which man's wit could imagine: and that if they had determined to have killed her, they would have now done it: and also earnestly counseling her, and inhabling his counsels with vehement prayers, that she would so far second the hopes of Amphialus, as that she might but procure him liberty; promising then as much to her, as the liberality of loving courage durst promise to himself.   

CHAP. 24.  
¹ Amphialus excuseth. ² The Princesses accuse. ³ Cecropia seeking their death ⁴ findeth her own. ⁵ Amphialushis death-panges and selfe-killing. ⁶ The woeful knowledge of it.  
argument key no. 1 But who would lively describe the manner of these speeches, should paint out the lightsome colours of affection, shaded with the deepest shadows of sorrow, finding them between hope and fear, a kind of sweetness in tears: till Philoclea content to receive a kiss, and but a kiss of Pyrocles, sealed up with moving lips, and closed them up in comfort: and herself (for the passage was left between them open) went to her sister: with whom she had stayed but a while, fortifying one another (while philoclea tempered Pamela's just disdain, and Pamela ennobled Philoclea's sweet humbleness) when Amphialus come unto them: who never since he had heard Philoclea named, could be quiet in himself, although noon of them about him (fearing more his mother's violence than his power) would discover what had passed: and many messages he sent to know her estate, which brought answer back, according as it pleased Cecropia to indite them, till his heart full of unfortunate affliction, more and more misgiving him, having impatiently borne the delay of the night's unfitness, this morning he got up, and though full of wounds (which not without danger could suffer such exercise) he appareled himself, and with a countenance, that showed strength in nothing but in grief, he come where the sisters were; and weakly kneeling down, he besought them to pardon him, if they had not been used in that castle according to their worthiness, and his duty; beginning to excuse small matters, poor Gentleman, not knowing in what sort they had been handled.  
argument key no. 2 But Pamelaes' high heart (having conceived mortal hate for the injury offered to her and her sister) could scarcely abide his sight, much less hear out his excuses; but interrupted him with these words. Traitor (said she) to thy own blood, and false to the profession of so much love as thou hast vowed, do not defile our ears with thy excuses; but pursue on thy cruelty, that thou and thy godly mother have used towards us: for my part, assure thyself, and so do I answer for my sister (whose mind I know) I do not more desire my own safety than thy destruction. Amazed with this speech, he turned his eye, full of humble sorrowfulness, to Philoclea. And is this (most excellent Lady) your doom of me also? She, sweet Lady, sat weeping: for as her most noble kinsman she had ever favoured him, & loved his love, though she could not be in love with his person; and now partly unkindness of his wrong, partly pity of his case, made her sweet mind yield some tears, before she could answer; and her answer was no other, but that she had the same cause as her sister had. He replied no further, but delivering from his heart two or three (untaught) sighs, rose, and with most low reverence went out of their chamber: and strength by threatening torture, learned of one of the women, in what terrible manner those Princesses had been used. But when he heard it, crying out, OH God; and then not able to say any more (for his speech went back to rebound woe upon his heart) he needed no judge to go upon him: for no man could ever think any otherworthy of greater punishment, than he thought himself.  
argument key no. 3 Full therefore of the horriblest despair, which a most guilty conscience could breed, with wild looks promising some terrible issue, understanding his mother was on the top of the leads, he caught one of his servants swords from him, and noon of them daring to stay him, he went up, carried by fury, in steed of strength; where she was at that time, musing how to go thorough with this matter, and resolving to make much of her Nieces in show, and secretly to impoison them; thinking since they were not to be won, her sons love would no otherwise be mitigated.  
But when she saw him come in with a sword argument key no. 4 drawn, and a look more terrible than the sword, she strength was strike with the guiltiness of her own conscience: yet the well known humbleness of her son somewhat animated her, till he, coming nearer her, and crying to her, Thou damnable creature, only fit to bring forth such a monster of unhappiness as I am; she fearing he would have stricken her (though indeed he meant it not, but only intended to kill himself in her presence) went back so far, till ere she were ware, she overthrew herself from over the Leads, to receive her deaths kiss at the ground: and yet was she not so happy as presently to die, but that she had time with hellish agony to see her sons mischief (whom she loved so well) before her end; when she confessed (with most desperate, but not repenting mind) the purpose she had to impoison the princesses, & would then have had them murdered. But every body sing, and glad to see her end, had left obedience to her tyranny.  
And (if it could be) her ruin increased woe in the argument key no. 5 noble heart of Amphialus, who when he seen her fall, had his own rage stayed a little with the soddennes of her destruction. And was I not enough miserable before (said he) but that before my end I must be the death of my mother? who how wicked so ever, yet I would she had received her punishment by some other. OH Amphialus, wretched Amphialus; thou hast lived to be the death of thy most dear companion & friend Philoxenus, and of his father, thy most careful foster-father. Thou hast lived to kill a Lady with thy own hands, and so excellent, and virtuous a Lady, as the fair Parthenia was: thou hast lived to see thy faithful Ismenus slain in succouring thee, and thou not able to defend him: thou hast lived to show thyself such a coward, as that one unknown Knight could overcome thee in thy Lady's presence: thou hast lived to bear arms against thy rightful Prince, thy own uncle: Thou hast lived to be accounted, and justly accounted, a traitor, by the most excellent persons, that this world holdeth: Thou hast lived to be the death of her, that gave thee life. But ah wretched Amphialus, thou hast lived for thy sake, and by thy authority, to have Philoclea tormented: OH heavens, in Amphialus castle, where Amphialus commanded; tormented, tormented? torment of my soul, Philoclea tormented: and thou hast had such comfort in thy life, as to live all this while. Perchance this hand (used only to mischievous acts) thinks it were too good a deed to kill me; or else filthy hand, only worthy to kill women, thou art afraid to strike a man. Fear not cowardly hand, for thou shalt kill but a cowardly traitor: and do it gladly; for thou shalt kill him, whom Philoclea hateth. With that, furiously he tare open his doublet, and fetting the pommel of the sword to the ground, and the point to his breast, he fell upon it. But the sword more merciful than he to himself, with the slipping of the pommel, the point swerved, and razed him but upon the side: yet with the fall, his other wounds opened so, as he bledde in such extremity, that Charon's boat might very well be carried in that flood: which yet he sought to hasten by this means. As he opened his doublet, and fell, there fell out Philoclea's knives, which Cecropia at the first had taken from her, and delivered to her son; and he had ever worn them next his heart, as the only relic he had of his Saint: now seeing them by him, (his sword being so, as weakness could not well draw it out from his doublette) he took the knives, and pulling one of them out, and many times kissing it, and then, first with the passions of kindness, and unkindness, melting in tears, OH dear knives, you are come in a good time, to revenge the wrong I have done you all this while, in keeping you from her blessed side, and wearing you without your mistress leave. Alas, be witness with me, yet before I die, (and well you may, for you have lain next my heart) that by my consent, your excellent mistress should have had as much honour, as this poor place could have brought forth, for so high an excellency; and now I am condemned to die by her mouth. Alas, other, far other hope would my desire often have given me: but other event it hath pleased her to lay upon me. Ah Philoclea (with that his tears gushed out, as though they would strive to overflow his blood) I would yet thou knewest how I love thee. Unworthy I am, unhappy I am, false I am; but to thèe, alas, I am not false. But what a traitor am I, any way to excuse him, whom she condemneth? Since there is nothing left me, wherein I may do her service, but in punishing him, who hath so offended her. Dear knife, then do your noble mistress' commandment. With that, he stabbed himself into divers places of his breast, and throat, until those wounds (with the old, freshly bleeding) brought him to the senseless gate of Death.  
By which time, his servants having (with fear of argument key no. 6 his fury) abstained a while from coming unto him, one of them (preferring dutiful affection before fearful duty) come in, and there found him swimming in his own blood, there giving a pitiful spectacle, where the conquest was the conquerors overthrow, and selfruine the only triumph of a battle, fought between him, and himself. The time full of danger, the person full of worthiness, the manner full of horror, did greatly astonish all the beholders; so as by and by, all the town was full of it, and then of all ages come running up to see the beloved body; every body thinking, their safety bled in his wounds, and their honour died in his destruction.   

CHAP. 25.  
¹ Anaxius-his rages for the death, ² Queen Helen's coming for the cure of Amphialus. ³ Her complaints over him. ⁴ Her passport and safeconduct, to carry him to her Chirurgeon. ⁵ The people's sorrow, ⁶ Set down in a song.  
argument key no. 1 But when it come, (and quickly it come) to the ears of his proud friend Anaxius, (who by that time was grown well of his wound, but never had come abroad, disdaining to abase himself to the company of any other but of Amphialus) he was exceedingly vexed, either with kindness, or (if a proud heart be not capable thereof) with disdain, that he, who had the honour to be called the friend of Anaxius, should come to such an unexpected ruine. Therefore, then coming abroad, with a face read in anger, and engrained in pride, with lids raised up, and eyes leveling from top to the toe of them that met him, treading, as though he thought to make the earth shake under him, with his hand upon his sword; short speeches, and disdainful answers, giving strength order to his two brothers, to go take the oath of obedience, in his name, of all the soldiers, and Citizens in the town: and withal, to swear them to revenge the death of Amphialus, upon Basilius. He himself went to see him, calling for all the surgeons & physicians there; spending some time in viewing the body, and threatening them all to be hanged, if they did not heal him. But they (taking view of his wounds, and falling down at Anaxius feet) assured him, that they were mortal, & no possible means to keep him above two days alive: and he stood partly in doubt, to kill, or save them, between his own fury, and their humbleness. But vowing, with his own hands to kill the two sisters, as causers of his friends death: when his brothers come to him, & told him they had done his commandment, in having received the oath of allegiance, with no great difficulty: the most part terrified by their valour, & force of their servants, & many that had been forward actors in the rebellion, willing to do any thing, rather than come under the subjection of Basilius again; and such few as durst gainsay, being cut of by present slaughter.  
argument key no. 2 But withal (as the chief matter of their coming to him) they told Anaxius, that the fair Queen Helen was come, with an honourable retinue, to the town: humbly desiring leave to see Amphialus, whom she had sought in many places of the world; & lastly, being returned into her own country, she heard together of the late siege and of his combat with the strange Knight, who had dangerously hurt him. Whereupon, full of loving care (which she was content even to publish to the world, how ungratefully soever he dealt with her) she had gotten leave of Basilius, to come by his frontiers, to carry away Amphialus with her, to the excellentest surgeon then known, whom she had in her Country, but so old, as not able to travail: but had given her sovereign annointments, to preserve his body withal, till he might be brought unto him: and that Basilius had granted leave: either natural kindness prevailing over all the offences done, or rather glad to make any passage, which might lead him out of his country, and from his daughters. This discourse Lycurgus understanding of Helen, delivered to his brother, with her vehement desire to see the body, and take her last farewell of him. Anaxius, though he were fallen out with all womankind (in respect of the hate he bore the sisters, whom he accounted murderers of Amphialus) yet at his brother's request, granted her leave. And she (poor Lady) with grievous expectation, and languishing desire, carried her faint legs to the place where he lay, either not breathing, or in all appearance breathing but death.  
argument key no. 3 In which piteous plight when she seen him, though Sorrow had set before her mind the pitifullest conceit thereof that it could paint, yet the present sight went beyond all former apprehensions: so that beginning to kneel by the body, her sight ran from her service, rather than abide such a sight; and she fell in a son upon him, as if she could not choose but die of his wounds. But when her breath (weary to be closed up in woe) broke the prison of her fair lips, and brought memory (with his servant senses) to his natural office, she yet made the breath convey these doleful words with it. Alas (said she) Amphialus, what strange diseases be these, that having sought thee so long, I should be now sorry to find thee? that these eyes should look upon Amphialus, and be grieved withal? that I should have thee in my power without glory, and embrace thee without comfort? How often have I blest the means that might bring me near thee? Now, woe worth the cause that brings me so near thee. Often, alas, often hast thou disdained my tears: but now, my dear Amphialus, receive them: these eics can serve for nothing else, but weep for thee; since thou wouldst never vouchsafe them thy comfort, yet disdain not them thy sorrow. I would they had been more dear unto thee; for then hadst thou lived. Woe is me that thy noble heart could love who hated thee, and hate who loved thee. Alas, why should not my faith to thee cover my other defects, who only sought to make my Crown thy footstool, myself thy feruaunt? that was all my ambition; and alas thou disdainedst it to serve them, by whom thy incomparable self were disdained. Yet (O Philoclea) wheresoever you are, pardon me, if I speak in the bitterness of my soul, excellent may you be in all other things (and excellent sure you are since he loved you) your want of pity, where the fault only was infiniteness of desert, cannot be excused. I would, OH God, I would that you had granted his deserved svite of marrying you, and that I had been your seruing-maide, to have made my estate the foil of your felicity, so he had lived. How many weary steps have I trodden after thee, while my only complaint was, that thou wert unkind? Alas I would now thou wert, to be unkind. Alas why wouldst thou not command my service, in persuading Philoclea to love thee? who could, or (if every one could) who would have recounted thy perfections so well, as I? who with such kindly passions could have stirred pity for thee as I? who should have delivered not only the words but the tears I had of thee? and so shouldest thou have exercised thy disdain in me, and yet used my service for thee.  
argument key no. 4 With that the body moving somewhat, and giving a groan full of death's music, she fell upon his face, & kissed him, and with all cried out. OH miserable I, that have only favour by misery: and then, would she have returned to a fresh career of complaints, when an aged and wife Gentleman come to her, and besought her, to remember what was fit for her greatness, wisdom, & honour: and with all, that it was fit to show her love, in carrying the body to her excellent Surgeon, first applying such excellent medicines as she had received of him for that purpose, rather than only show herself a woman-lover in fruitless lamentations. She was strength warned with the obedience of an overthrown mind, and therefore leaving some surgeons of her own to dress the body, went herself to Anaxius, & humbling herself to him, as low as his own pride could wish, besought him, that since the surgeons there had utterly given him over, that he would let her carry him away in her litter with her, since the worst he could have should be to die, and to die in her arms that loved him above all things; & where he should have such monuments erected over him, as were fit for her love, & his worthiness: beseeching him withal, since she was in a country of enemies (where she trusted more to Anaxius valour, than Basilius promise) that he would convey them safely out of those territories. Her reasons something moved him, but nothing thoroughly persuaded him, but the last request of his help: which he strength promised, warranting all security, as long as that sword had his master alive. She as happy therein as unhappiness could be (having received as small comfort of her own surgeons as of the others) caused yet the body to be easily conveyed into the litter: all the people then beginning to roar and cric, as though neucr till then they had lost their Lord. And if the terror of Anaxius had not kept them under, they would have mutinied, rather than suffered his body to be carried away.  
argument key no. 5 But Anaxius himself riding before the litter, with the choice men of that place, they were afraid even to cry, though they were ready to cry for fear: but (because that they might do) every body forced (even with harming themselves) to do honour to him: some throwing themselves upon the ground; some tearing their clotheses, and casting dust upon their heads, and some even wounding themselves, and sprinkling their own blood in the air. Among the rest, one accounted good in that kind, and made the better by the true feeling of sorrow, roared out a song of Lamentation, which (as well as might be) was gathered up in this form.  

argument key no. 6 SInce that to death is go the shepherd high,  
Whom most the silly shepherds pipe did prise,  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

And you o trees (if any life there lies  
In trees) now through your porous barks receive  
The strange resound of these my causeful cries:  
And let my breath upon your branches leave,  
My breath distinguished into words of woe,  
That so I may signs of my sorrow leave.  
But if among yourselves some one tree grow,  
That aptest is to figure misery,  
Let it embassage bear your grieves to show.  
The weeping Myrrh I think will not deny  
Her help to this, this justest cause of plaint.  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

And thou poor Earth, whom fortune doth attaint  
In Nature's name to suffer such a harm,  
As for to lose thy gem, and such a Saint,  
Upon thy face let coaly ravens swarm:  
Let all the Sea thy tears accounted be:  
Thy bowels with all kill metals arm.  
Let gold now rust, let Diamonds waste in thee:  
Let pearls be won with woe their dam doth bear:  
Thyself henceforth the light do never see.  
And you, o flowers, which sometimes Princes were,  
Till these strange altrings you did hap to try,  
Of Prince's loss yourselves for tokens rear.  
Lily in mourning black thy whiteness die:  
OH Hiacinthe let Ai be on thee still.  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

OH Echo, all these woods with roaring fill,  
And do not only mark the accents last,  
But all, for all reach out my wailful will:  
One Echo to another Echo cast  
Sound of my griefs, and let it never end,  
Till that it hath all woods and waters past.  
Nay to the heavens your just complaining send,  
And stay the stars inconstant constant race,  
Till that they do unto our dolours bend:  
And ask the reason of that special grace,  
That they, which have no lives, should live solong,  
And virtuous souls so soon should lose their place?  
Ask, if in great men good men do so throng,  
That he for want of elbow room must die?  
Or if that they be scant, if this be wrong?  
Did Wisdom this our wretched time espy  
In one true chest to rob all virtues ireasure?  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

And if that any counsel you to measure  
Your doleful tunes, to them still plaining say,  
To well felt grief, plaint is the only pleasure.  
OH light of Sun, which is entitled day,  
OH well thou dost that thou no longer bidcst;  
For mourning light her black weeds may display.  
OH Phoebus with good cause thy face thou hidest,  
Rather than have thy all-beholding eye  
fold with this sight, while thou thy chariot guidest.  
And well (me thinks) becomes this vaultie sky  
A stately tomb to cover him deceased.  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.  
OH Philomela with thy breast oppressed  
By shame and grief, help, helpeme to lament  
Such cursed harms as cannot be redressed.  
Or if thy mourning notes be fully spent,  
Than give a quiet ear unto my plaining:  
For I to teach the world complaint am bend.  
You dimmy clouds, which well employ your staining  
This cheerful air? with your obscured cheer,  
Witness your woeful tears with daily raining.  
And if, o Sun, thou ever didst appear,  
In shape, which by man's eye might be perceived;  
Virtue is dead, now set thy triumph here.  
Now set thy triumph in this world, bereaved  
Of what was good, where now no good doth lie;  
And by thy pomp our loss will be conceived.  
OH notes of my yourselves together tie:  
With too much grief me thinks you are dissolved.  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

Time ever old, and young is still revolved  
Within itself, and never tasteth end:  
But mankind is for ay to naught resolved.  
The filthy snake her aged coat can mend,  
And getting youth again, in youth doth flourish:  
But unto Man, age ever death doth Send.  
The very trees with grafting we can cherish,  
So that we can long time produce their time:  
But Man which helpeth them, helpless must perish.  
Thus, thus the minds, which over all do clime,  
When they by years experience get best graces,  
Must finish then by death's detested crime.  
We last short while, and build long lasting places:  
Ah let us all against soul Nature cry:  
We Nature's works do help, she us defaces.  
For how can Nature unto this reply?  
That she her child, I say, her best child killeth?  
Your doleful tunes siveete Muses now apply.   

Alas, me thinks, my weakened voice but spilleth,  
The vehement course of this just lamentation:  
Me thinks, my sound no place with sorrow filleth.  
I know not I, but once in detestation  
I have myself, and all what life containeth,  
Since Death on virtues fort hath made invasion.  
One word of woe another after traineth:  
Ne do I care how rude be my invention,  
So it be seen what sorrow in me reigneth.  
OH Elements, by whose (men say) contention,  
Our bodies be in living power maintained,  
Was this man's death the fruit of your dissension?  
OH Physics power, which (some say) hath restrained  
Approach of death, alas thou helpest meagerly,  
When once one is for Atropos distrained.  
Great be Physicians brags, but aid is beggarly,  
When rooted moisture fails, or groweth dry,  
They leave off all, and say, death comes too eagerlie.  
They are but words therefore that men do buy,  
Of any since God AEsculapius ceased.  
Your doleful tunes sweet Muses now apply.   

justice, justice is now (alas) oppressed:  
Bountifulness hath made his last conclusion:  
Goodness for best attire in dust is dressed.  
shepherds bewail your uttermost confusion;  
And see by this picture to you presented,  
Death is our home, life is but a delusion.  
For see alas, who is from you absented?  
Absented? may I say for ever banished  
From such as were to die for him contented?  
Out of our sight in turn of hand is vanished  
Shepherd of shepherds, whose well settled order  
Private with wealth, public with quiet garnished.  
While he did live, far, far was all disorder;  
Example more prevailing than direcntion,  
Far was homestrife, and far was foe from border.  
His life a law, his look a full correcntion:  
As in his health we healthful were preserved,  
So in his sickness grew our sure infection.  
His death our death. But ah; my Muse hath swerved,  
From such deep plaint as should such woes descry,  
Which he of us for ever hath deserved.  
The style of heavy heart can never fly  
So high, as should make such a pain notorious:  
Cease Muse therforce: thy dart o Death apply;  
And farewell Prince, whom goodness hath made glorious.    

CHAP. 26.  
¹ The public grief amplified. ² Anaxius death-threatning to the Princesses. ³ Their resoluteness in it. ⁴ His return, and stop. ⁵ Zelmane's brave challenge unto him ⁶ scorned by him. ⁷ His love to Pamela scorned by her. ⁸ His brother's brave loves have as mean success.  
THe general consort of all such numbers argument key no. 1 mourning, performed so the natural times of sorrow; that even to them (if any such were) that felt not thelosse, yet others grief taught them grief; having before their compassionate sense so passionate a spectacle, of a young man, of great beauty, beautified with great honour, honoured by great valour, made of inestimable valour, by the noble using of it, to lie there languishing, under the arrest of death, and a death, where the manner could be no comfort to the discomfortablenes of the matter. But when the body was carried through the gate, and the people (saving such as were appointed) not suffered to go further, then was such an universal cry, as if they had all had but one life, and all received but one blow.  
Which so moved Anaxius to consider the loss of argument key no. 2 his friend, that (his mind apt to revenge, than tenderness) he presently giving order to his brother to keep the prisoners safe, and unuisited, till his return from conveying Helen, he sent a messenger to the sisters, to tell them this courteous message: that at his return, with his own hands, he would cut off their heads, and sand them for tokens to their father.  
argument key no. 3 This message was brought unto the sisters, as they sat at that time together with Zelmane, conferring how to carry themselves, having heard of the death of Amphialus. And as no expectation of death is so painful, as where the resolution is hindered by the intermixing of hopes, so did this new alarm, though not remove, yet move some what the constancy of their minds, which were so unconstantly dealt with. But within a while, the excellent Pamela had brought her mind again to his old acquaintance: and then, as careful for her sister (whom most dearly she loved) Sister (said she) you see how many acts our Tragedy hath: Fortune is not, yet a weary of vexing us: but what? A ship is not counted strong for biding one strome? It is but the same trumpet of death, which now perhaps gives the last sound: and let us make that profit of our former miseries, that in them we learned to die willingly. Truly said Philoclea, dear sister, I was so beaten with the evils of life, that though I had not virtue enough to despise the sweetness of it, yet my weakness bred that strength, to be weary of the pains of it: only I must confess, that little hope, which by these late accidents was awaked in me, was at the first angry withal. But even in the darkness of that horror, I see a light of comfort appear; and how can I tread amiss, that see Pamela's steps? I would only (OH that my wish might take place) that my schoole-Mistres might live, to see me say my lesson truly. Were that a life, my Philoclea? said Pamela. Not, not, (said she) let it come, and put on his worst face: for at the worst it is but a bugbear. joy is it to me to see you so well resolved; and since the world will not have us, let it loose us. Only (with that she stayed a little, and sight) only my Philoclea, (than she bowed down, and whispered in her ear) only Musidorus, my shepherd, comes between me and death, and makes me think I should not die, because I know he would not I should die. With that Philoclea sighed also, saying no more, but looking upon Zelmane: who was walking up & down the chamber, having heard this message from Anaxius, and having in times passed heard of his nature, thought him like enough to perform it, which wound her again into the former maze of perplexity. Yet debating with herself of the manner how to prevent it, she continued her musing humour, little saying, or indeed, little finding in her heart to say, in a case of such extremity, where peremptorily death was threatened: and so stayed they; having yet that comfort, that they might tarry together. Pamela nobly, Philoclea sweetly, and Zelmane sadly, and desperately noon of them entertaining sleep, which they thought should shortly begin, never to awake.  
But Anaxius come home, having safely conducted argument key no. 4 Helen: and safely he might well do it: For though many of Basilius Knights would have attempted something upon Anaxius by that means to deliver the Ladies, yet Philanax, having received his master's commandment, & knowing his word was given, would not consent unto it. And the black-Knight (who by them was able to carry abroad his wounds) did not know thereof; but was bringing forces, by force to deliver his Lady. So as Anaxius, interpreting it rather fear, than faith, and making even chance an argument of his virtue, returned: and as soon as he was returned, with a fellow heart calling his brothers up with him, he went into the chamber, where they were all three together; with full intention to kill the sisters with his own hands, and sand their heads for tokens to their father: Though his brothers (who were otherwise inclined) dissuaded him: but his reverence stayed their persuasions. But when he was come into the chamber, with the very words of choleric threatening climbing up his throat, his eyes first lighted upon Pamela; who hearing he was coming, and looking for death, thought she would keep her own majesty in welcoming it; but the beams there of so struck his eyes, with such a counterbuff unto his pride, that if his anger could not so quickly love, nor his pride so easily honour, yet both were forced to find a worthineffe.  
argument key no. 5 Which while it bred a pause in him, Zelmane (who had ready in her mind both what and how to say) stepped out unto him, & with a resolute stayendes (voided either of anger, kindness, disdain, or humbleness) spoke in this sort. Anaxius (said she) if Fame have not been overpartiall to thee, thou art a man of exceeding valour. Therefore I do call thee even before that virtue, and will make it the judge between us. And now I do affirm, that to the eternal blot of all the fair acts that thou hast done, thou dost weakly, in seeking without danger to revenge his death, whose life wfth danger thou mightst perhaps have preserved: thou dost cowardly, in going about by the death of these excellent Ladies, to prevent the just punishment, that hereafter they by the powers, which they better than their father there, or any other could make, might lay upon thee; and dost most basely, in once presenting thyself as an executioner; a vile office upon men, and in a just cause: beyond the degree of any vile word, in so unjust a cause, and upon Ladies, and such Ladies. And therefore, as a hangman, I say, thou art unworthy to be counted a Knight, or to be admitted into the company of Knights. Neither for what, I say, will I all eadge other reasons, of wisdom, or justice, to prove my speech, because I know thou dost disdain to be tied to their rules: but even in thy own virtue (whereof thou so much gloriest) I will make my trial: and therefore defy thee, by the death of one of us two, to prove, or disprove these reproaches. Choose thee what arms thou likest, I only demand, that these Ladies (whom I defend) may in liberty see the combat.  
When Zelmane began her speech, the excellency of argument key no. 6 her beauty, and grace, made him a little content to hear. Besides that, a new lesson he had read in Pamela, had already taught him some regard. But when she entered into bravery of speech, he thought at first, a mad, and railing humour or possessed her; till, finding the speeches hold well together, and at length come to flat challenge of combat; he stood leaning back with his body and head, sometimes with bend brows looking upon the one side of her, sometimes of the other, beyond marvel marveling, that he, who had never heard such speeches from any Knight, should be thus rebuffed by a woman; and that marvel made him hear out her speech: which ended, he turned his head to his brother Zoilus, and said nothing, but only lifting up his eyes, smiled. But Zelmane finding his mind, Anaxius (said she) perchance thou disdaynest to answer me, because, as a woman, thou thinkest me not fit to be fought withal. But I tell thee, that I have been trained up in martial matters, with so good success, that I have many times overcome better Knights than thyself: and am well known to be equal in feats of arms, to the famous Pyrocles, who slew thy valiant Uncle, the Giant Euardes. The remembrance of his uncles death something nettled him, so as he answered thus.  
Indeed (said he) any woman may be as valiant as that coward, and traytorly boy, who slew my Uncle traitorously, and after ran from me in the plain field. Five thousand such could not have overcome Euardes, but by falsehood. But I sought him all over Asia, following him still from one of his cony-holes to another: till, coming into this Country, I heard of my friends being besieged, and so come to blow away the wretches that troubled him. But wheresoever the miserable boy fly, heaven, nor hell, shall keep his heart from being torn by these hands. Thou liest in thy throat (said Zelmane) that boy, where ever he went, did so noble acts, as thy heart (as proud as it is) dares not think of, much less perform. But to please thee the better with my presence, I tell thee, no creature can be nearer of kin to him, than myself: and so well we love, that he would not be sorrier for his own death, then for my: I being begotten by his father, of an Amazon Lady. And therefore, thou canst not devise to revenge thyself more upon him, then by kill me: which, if thou darest do mansuilie, do it; otherwise, if thou harm these incomparable Ladies, or myself, without daring to fight with me, I protest before these Knights, and before heaven, and earth, (that will reveal thy shame) that thou art the beggerliest dastardly villain, that dishonoureth the earth with his steps: and if thou lettest me overlive them, so will I blaze thee. But all this could not move Anaxius, but that he only said, Evil should it become the terror of the world, to fight, much less to scold with thee.  
But (said he) for the death of these same (pointing argument key no. 7 to the Princesses) of my grace, I give them life. And withal, going to Pamela, and offering to take her by the chin, And as for you, Minion (said he) yield but gently to my will, and you shall not only live, but live so happily, He would have said further, when Pamela, displeased both with words, matter, and manner, putting him away with her fair hand, Proud beast (said she) yet thou playest worse thy Comedy, than thy Tragedy. For my part, assurethy self, since my destiny is such, that at each moment my life & death stand in equal balance, I had rather have thee, & think thee far sitter to be my hangman, than my husband. Pride & anger, would feign argument key no. 8 have cruelly revenged so bitter an answer, but already Cupia had begun to make it his sport, to pull his plumes: so that, unused to a way of courtesy, and put out of his bias of pride, he hastily went away, grumbling to himself, between threatening & wishing; leaving his brothers with them: the elder of whom, Lyeurgus, liked Philoclea, & Zoilus would needs love Zelmane; or at least, entertain themselves with making them believe so. Lyeurgus more braggart, & near his brother's humour, begun, with setting forth their blood, their deeds, how many they had despised, of most excellent women; how much they were bound to them, that would seek that of them. In sum, in all his speeches, more like the bestower, than the desirer of felicity. Whom it was an excellent pastime (to those that would delight in the play of virtue) to see, with what a witty ignorance she would not understand: and how, acknowledging his perfections, she would make, that one of his perfections, not to be iniurions to Ladies. But when he knew not how to reply, then would he fall to touching and toying, still viewing his gracesin no glass but self-liking. To which, Philoclea's shamefastness, and humbleness, were as strong resisters, as choler, and disdain. For though she yielded not, he thought she was to be overcome: and that thought a while stayed him from further violence. But Zelmane had eye to his behaviour, and set in her memory, upon the score of Revenge, while she herself was no less attempted by Zoilus; who less full of brags, was forwardest in offering (indeed) dishonourable violence.   

CHAP. 27.  
¹ Zelmane's persuasions to temporize, and refer them to Basilius. ² Anaxius-his embassage to treat the marriage. ³ Basilius recourse to a new Oracle, ⁴ and his negative thereon. ⁵ The flattering relation of his Mercury. ⁶ The brother's course to resist force without, and use force within.  
But when after their fruitless labours argument key no. 1 they had go away, called by their brother, (who began to be perplexed between new conceived desires, and disdain, to be disdained) Zelmane (who with most assured quietness of judgement looked into their present estate) earnestly persuaded the two sisters, that to avoid the mischiefs of proud outrage, they would only so far suit their behaviour to their estates, as they might win time; which as it could not bring them to worse case than they were, so it might bring forth inexpected relief. And why (said Pamela) shall we any longer flatter adversity? Why should we delight to make ourselves any longer balls to injurious Fortune, since our own kin are content traitorously to abuse us? Certainly, in mishap it may be some comfort to us, that we are lighted in these fellows hands, who yet will keep us from having cause of being miserable by our friends means. Nothing grieves me more, then that you, noble Lady Zelmane (to whom the world might have made us able to do honour) should receive only hurt by the contagion of our misery. As for me, and my sister, undoubtedly it becomes our birth to think of dying nobly, while we have done, or suffered nothing, which might make our soul ashamed at the parture from these bodies. Hope is the fawning traitor of the mind, while under colour of friendship, it robs it of his chief force of resolution. Virtuous and fair Lady (said Zelmane) what you say is true; and that truth may well make up a part in the harmony of your noble thoughts. But yet the time (which aught always to be one) is not tuned for it; while that may bring forth any good, do not bar yourself thereof: for then would be the time to die nobly, when you can not live nobly. Than so earnestly she persuaded with them both, to refer themselves to their father's consent (in obtaining whereof they knew some while would be spent) and by that means to temper the minds of their proud wooers; that in the end Pamela yielded to her, because she spoke reason; and Philoclea yielded to her reason, because she spoke it.  
argument key no. 2 And so when they were again solicited in that little pleasing petition, Pamela forced herself to make answer to Anaxius, that if her father gave his consent she would make herself believe, that such was the heavenly determination, since she had no means to avoid it. Anaxius (who was the most frank promiser to himself of success) nothing doubted of Basilius consent, but rather assured himself, he would be his orator in that matter: And therefore he chose out an officious servant (whom he esteemed very wise, because he never found him but just of his opinion) and willed him to be his ambassador to Basilius, and to make him know, that if he meant to have his daughter both safe and happy, and desired himself to have such a son in law, as would not only protect him in his quiet course, but (if he listed to accept it) would give him the monarchy of the world, that then he should receive Anaxius, who never before knew what it was to pray any thing. That if he did not, he would make him know, that the power of Anaxius was in every thing beyond his will, and yet his will not to be resisted by any other power. His servant with smiling and caste-up look, desired God to make his memory able to contain the treasure of that wise speech: and therefore besought him to repeat it again, that by the oftener hearing it, his mind might be the better acquainted with the divineness thereof, and that being graciously granted, he then doubted not by carrying with him in his conceit, the grace wherewith Anaxius spoke it, to persuade rocky minds to their own harm: so little doubted he to win Basilius to that, which he thought would make him think the heavens opened, when he hard but the proffer thereof. Anaxius gravely allowed, the probability of his conjecture, and therefore sent him away, promising him he should have the bringing up of his second son by Pamela.  
The messenger with speed performed his Lord's argument key no. 3 commandment to Basilius, who by nature quiet, and by superstition made doubtful, was loath to take any matter of arms in hand, wherein already he had found so slow success; though Philanax vehemently urged him thereunto, making him see that his retiring back did encourage injuries. But Basilius betwixt the fear of Anaxius might, the passion of his love, & jealousy of his estate, was so perplexed, that not able to determine, he took the common course of men, to fly only them to devotion, when they want resolution: so detaining the messenger with delays, he deferred the directing of his course to the counsel of Apollo, which because himself at that time could not well go to require, he entrusted the matter to his best trusted philanax: who (as one in whom obedience was a sufficient reason unto him) went with diligence to Delphos, where being entered into the secret place of the temple, and having performed the sacrifices usual, the spirit that possessed the prohesying woman, with a sacred fury, attended not his demand, but as if it would argue him of incredulity, told him, not in dark wont speeches, but plainly to be understood, what he come for, and that he should return to Basilius, and will him to deny his daughter to Anaxius and his brothers, for that they were resrued for such as were better beloved of the gods. That he should not doubt, for they should return unto him safely and speedily. And that he should keep on his solitary course, till both Philanax and Basilius fully agreed in the understanding of the former prophecy: withal, commanding philanax from thence forward to give tribute, but not oblation, to human wifedome.  
argument key no. 4 Philanax then finding that reason cannot show itself more reasonable, then to leave reasoning in things above reason, returns to his Lord, and like one that preferred truth before the maintaining of an opinion, hid nothing from him, nor from thence forth durst any more dissuade him, from that which he found by the celestial providence directed; but he himself looking to repair the government as much as in so broken an estate by civil dissension he might, and fortifying with notable art, both the lodges, so as they were almost made unaprochable, he left Basilius to bemoan the absence of his daughters, and to bewail the imprisonment of Zelmane: yet wholly given holily to obey the Oracle, he gave a resolute negative unto the messenger of Anaxius, who all this while had waited for it, yet in good terms desiring him to show himself, in respect of his birth and profession, so Princely a Knight, as without forcing him to seek the way of force, to deliver in noble sort shose Ladies unto him, and so should the injury have been in Amphialus, and the benefit in him.  
The messenger went back with this answer, yet argument key no. 5 having ever used to sugar any thing which his Master was to receive, he told him, that when Basilius first understood his desires, he did overreach so far all his most hopeful expectations, that ho thought it were too great a boldness to hearken to such a man, in whom the heavens had such interest, without ask the God's counsel, and therefore had sent his principal counsellor to Delphos, who although he kept the matter never so secret, yet his diligence, inspired by Anaxius his privilege over all worldly things, had found out the secret, which was, that he should not presnme to marry his daughters, to one who already was enrolled among the demie-gods', and yet much less he should dare the attempting to take them out of his hands.  
Anaxius, who till then had made Fortune his creator, argument key no. 6 and Force his God, now began to find an other wisdom to be above, that judged so rightly of him: and where in this time of his servants waiting for Basilius resolution, he and his brothers had courted their Ladies, as whom they vouchsased to have for their wives, he resolved now to dally no longer in delays, but to make violence his Orator, since he had found persuasions had gotten nothing but answers. Which intention he opened to his brothers, who having all this while wanted nothing to take that way, but his authority, gave spurs to his running, and, unworthy men, neither feeling virtue in themselves, nor tendering it in others, they were headlong to make that evil consort of love and force, when Anaxius had word, that from the Tower there were descried some companies of armed men, marching towards the town; wherefore he gave present order to his servants, and soldiers, to go to the gates and walless, leaving throne within but himself, and his brothers: his thoughts then so full of their intended prey, that Mars-his loudest trumpet could scarcely have awaked him.   

CHAP. 28.  
¹ Zoilus the messenger ² and first offerer of force ³ is forccd to fly, and die. ⁴ Lycurgus pointed to kill ⁵ is fought withal, ⁶ foiled, ⁷ & killed. ⁸ Anaxius the Revenger with Pyrocles the Punisher brave, and bravely combated.  
argument key no. 1 But while he was directing what he would have done, his youngest brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission, went in the name of Anaxius, to tell the sisters, that since he had answer from their father, that he and his brother Lycurgus, should have them in what sort it pleased them, that they would now grant them no longer time, but presently to determine, whither they thought it more honourable comfort to be compelled, or persuaded. Pamela made him answer, that in a matter whereon the whole state of her life depended, and wherein she had ever answered, the would not led, but follow her parent's pleasure; she thought it reason she should, either by letter, or particular messenger understand something from themselves, & not have her be led bound to the report of their partial servants, & therefore, as to their words, she & her sister, had ever a simple & true resolution, so against their unjust force, God, they hoped, would either arm their lives, or take away their lives.  
Well Ladies (said he) I will leave my brothers, who by argument key no. 2 & by will come unto you, to be their own ambassadors, for my part, you must now do myself service, and with that turning up his mustuchoes, and marching as if he would begin a pavane, he went toward Zelmane. But Zelmane (having heard, all this while of the messengers being with Basilius, much to do to keep those excellent Ladies from seeking by the passport of death, to escape those base dangers whereunto they found themselves subject) still hoping that Musidorus would find some means to deliver them; and therefore had often both by her own example, & comfortable reasons, persuaded them to overpass many insolent indignities of their proud suitors, who thought it was a sufficient favour not too do the uttermost injury, now come again to the strength she most feared for them, either of death or dishonour, if heroical courage would have let her, she had been beyond herself amazed, but that yet held up her wit, to attended the uttermost occasion which cven then brought his hairy forehead unto her: for Zoilus smacking his lips, as for the Prologue of a kiss, and something advancing himself, Darling (said he) let thy heart be full of joy, and let thy fair eyes be of counsel with it, for this day thou shalt have Zoilus, whom many have longed for; but noon shall have him, but Zulmane. And o, how much glory I have to think what a race will be between us. The world, by the heavens, the world will be too little for them: And with that, he would have put his arm about her neck, but she withdrawing herself from him, My Lord (said she) much good may your thoughts do you, but that I may not dissemble with you, my nativity being cast by one that never failed in any of his progonostications, I have been assured, that I should never be apt to bear children But since you will honour me with so high favour, I must only desire that I may perform a vow which I made among my countriwomen, the famous Amazons, that I would never marry noon, but such one as was able to withstand me in Arms: therefore, before I make my own desire serviceable to yours, you must vouchsafe to lend me armour and weapons, that at lest, with a blow or two or two of the sword, I may not find myself perjured to myself. But Zoilus (but laughing with a hearty loudness) went by force to embrace her; making no other answer, but since she had a mind to try his knighthood, she should quickly know what a man of arms he was: and so, with out reverence to the Ladies, began to struggle with her.  
argument key no. 3 But in Zelmane then Disdain become wisdom, & Anger gave occasion. For abiding no longer abode in the matter, she that had not put off, though she had disguised, Pyrocles, being far fuller of strong nimbleness, tripped up his feet, so that he fell down at hers. And withal (meaning to pursue what she had begun) pulled out his sword, which he ware about him: but before she could strike him withal, he got up, and ran to a fair chamber, where he had left his two brethren, preparing themselves to come down to their mistresses. But she followed at his heels, & even as he come to throw himself into their arms for succour, she hit him with his own sword, such a blowupon the waist, that she almost cut him a sunder: once, she sundered his soul from his body, sending it to Proserpina, an angry Goddess against ravishers.  
But Anaxius, sing before his eyes the miserable end argument key no. 4 of his brother, fuller of despite than wrath, & yet fuller of wrath than sorrow, looking with a woeful eye upon his brother Lycurgus, Brother, said he, chastise this vile creature, while I go down, & take order left further mischief arise: & so went down to the Ladies, whom he visited, doubting there had been some further practise than yet he conceived. But finding them only strong in patience, he went & locked a great Iron gate, by which only any body might mount to that part of the Castle, rather to conceal the shame of his brother, slain by a woman, then for doubt of any other annoyance, and then went up to receavesome comfort of the execution, he was sure his brother had done of Zelmane.  
But Zelmane no sooner seen those brothers, of whom argument key no. 5 Reason assured her she was to expect revenge, but that she leapt to a target, as one that well knew the first mark of valour to be defence. And then accepting the opportunity of Anaxius going away, she waited not the pleasure of Lycurgus, but without any words (which she ever thought vain, whenresolution took the place of persuasion) gave her own heart the contentment to be the assailor. Lycurgus, who was in the disposition of his nature hazardous, & by the lucky passing through many dangers, grown confident in himself, went toward her, rather as to spoil, then to fight, so far from fear, that his assuredness disdained to hope. But when her sword made demonstrations above all flattery of arguments, & that he found she priest so upon him, as showed that her courage sprang not from blind despair, but was guarded both with cunning & strength: self-love them first in him divided itself from vainglory, & made him found that the world of worthiness had not his whole globe comprised in his breast, but that it was necessary to have strong resistance against so strong assailing. And so between them, for a few blows, Mars himself might have been delighted to look on. But Zelmane, who knew that in her case, slowness of victory was little better than ruin, with the bellows of hate, blew the fire of courage, and he striking a main blow at her head, she warded it with the shield, but so warded, that the shield was cut in two pieces, while it protected her, & withal she ran in to him, and thrusting at his breast, which he put by with his target, as he was lifting up his sword to strike again, she let fall the piece of her shield, and with her left hand catching his sword of the inside of the pommel, with nimble & strong sleight, she had gotten his sword out of his hand before his sense could convey to his imagination, what was to be argument key no. 6 doubted. And having now two swords against one shield, meaning not foolishly to be ungrateful to good fortune, while he was no more amazed with his being unweapned, then with the suddainnes thereof, she gave him such a wound upon his head, in despite of the shields over-weak resistance, that withal he fell to the ground, astonished with the pain, & aghast with fear. But sing Zelmane ready to conclude her victory in his death, bowing up his head to her, with a countenance that had forgotten all pride, Enough excellent Lady, said, the honour is yours: Whereof you shall want the best witness, if you kill me. As you have taken from men the glory of manhood, return so now again to your own sex, for mercy. I will redeem my life of you with no small services, for I will undertake to make my brother obey all your commandments. Grant life I beseech you, for your own honour and for the persons sake that you love best.  
Zelmane repressed a while her great heart, either disdaining argument key no. 7 to be cruel, or pitiful, & therefore not cruel: & now the image of human condition, begun to be an Orator unto her of compaffion, when she seen, as he lifted up his arms with a suppliants grace, about one of them, unhappily, tied a garter with a jewel, which (given to Pyrocles by his aunt of Thessalia, & greatly esteemed by him) he had presented to Philoclea, & with inward rage promising extreme hatred, had seen Lyourgus with a proud force, & not with out some hurt unto her, pull away from Philoclea because at entreaty she would not give it him. But the sight of that was like a cipher, signifying all the injuries which Philoclea had of him suffered, & that remembrance feeding upon wrath, trod down all conceits of mercy. And therefore saying no more, but, No villain, die: It is Philoclca that sends thee this token for they love. With that she made her sword drink the blood of his heart, though he wresting his body, & with a countenance prepared to excuse, would feign have delayed the receiving of deaths ambassadors.  
But neither that stayed Zelmane's hand, nor yet Anaxius argument key no. 8 cry unto her, who having made fast the Iron gate, even than come to the top of the stairs, when, contratire to all his imaginations, he seen his brother lie at Zelmane's mercy. Therefore crying, promising, and threatening to her to hold her hand: the last groan of his brother was the only answer he could get to his unerespected eloquence. But then Pity would feign have drawn tears, which Fury in their spring dried; and Anger would feign have spoken, but that Disdain sealed up his lips; but in his heart he blasphemed heaven, that it could have such a power over him; not lesle ashamed of the victory he should have of her, then of his brother's overthrow: and no more spited, that it was yet unrevenged, then that the revenge should be no greater, than a woman's destruction. Therefore with no speech, but such a groaning cry, as often is the language of sorrowful anger, he come running at Zelmane, use of fight then serving in steed of patiented consideration what to do. Guided wherewith, though he did not with knowledge, yet did he according to knowledge, pressing upon Zelmane in such a well defended manner, that in all the combats that ever she had fought, she had never more need of quick senese, & ready virtue. For being one of the greatest men of stature then living, as he did fully answer that stature in greatness of might, so did he exceed both in greatness of courage, which with a countenance form by the nature both of his mind & body, to an almost horrible fierceness, was able to have carried fear to any mind, that was not privy to itself of a true & costant worthiness. But Pyrocles, whose soul might well be separeted from his body, but never alienated from the remembering what was comely, if at the first he did a little apprehended the dangerousness of his adversary, whom once before he had something tried, & now perfectly seen, as the very picture of forcible fury: yet was that apprehension quickly stayed in him, rather strengthening, then weakening his virtue by that wrestling; like wine, growing the stronger by being moved. So that they both, prepared in hearts, and able in hands, did honour solitariness there with such a combat, as might have demanded, as a right of fortune, whole armies of beholders. But no beholders needed there, where manhood blew the trumpet, & satisfaction did whet, as much as glory. There was strength against nimbleness; rage, against resolution; fury, against virtue; confidence, against courage; pride, against nobleness: love, in both, breeding mutual hatred, & desire of revenging the injury of his brother's slaughter, to Anaxius, being like Philoclea's captituity to Pyrocles. Who had seen the one, would have thought nothing could have resisted; who had marked the other, would have marveled that the other had so long resisted. But like two contrary tides, either of which are able to carry worlds of ships, and men upon them, with such swiftness, as nothing seems able to withstand them: Yet meeting one another, with mingling their watery forces, and struggling together, it is long to say whither stream gets the victory: So between these, if Pallas had been there, she could scarcely have told, whither she had nurced better in the feats of arms. The Irish greyhound, against the English mastiff; the swordfish, against the whale; the Rhinoceros, against the elephant, might be models, & but models of this combat. Anaxius was better armed defensively: for (beside a strong cask bravely covered, wherewith he covered his head) he had a huge shield, such perchance, as Achilles showed to the pale walls of Troy, where with all that body was covered. But Pyrocles, utterly unarmed for defence, to offend had the advantage: for, in either hand he had a sword, & with both hands nimbly performed that office. And according as they were diversly furnished, so did they differ in the manner of fight. For Anaxius most by warding, and Pyrocles oftenest by avoiding, resisted the adverfaries assault. Both hasty to end, yet both often staying for advantage. Time, distance, & motion custom made them so perfect in, that as if they had been fellow Counsellors, and not enemies, each knew the others mind, and knew how to prevent it. So as their strength failed them sooner than their skill, and yet their breath failed them sooner than their strength. And breathless indeed they grew, before either could complain of any loss of blood.   

CHAP. 29.  
¹ The Combatants first breathing, ² reencounter, and  
argument key no. 1 So consenting by the mediation of necessity, to a breathing time of truce, being withdrawn a little one from the other; Anaxius stood leaning upon his sword, with his grim eye, so settled upon Zelmane, as is wont to be the look of an earnest thought. Which Zelmane marking, & according to the Pyroclean, nature, fuller of gay bravery in the midst, then in the beginning of danger; What is it (said she) Anaxius, that thou so deeply musest on? Doth thy brother's example make thee think of thy fault past, or of thy coming punishmennt? I think (said he) what spiteful God it should be, who, envying my glory, hath brought me to such a way ward case, that neither thy death can be a revenge, nor thy overthrow a victory. Thou dost well indeed (said Zelmane) to impute thy case to the heavenly providence, which will have thy pride found itself (even in that where of thou art most proud) punished by the weak sex, which thou most contemnest.  
But then, having sufficiently rested themselves, they argument key no. 2 renewed again their combat, far more terribly than before: like nimble vaulters, who at the first and second leap, do but stir, and (as it were) awake the fiery and airy parts, which after in the other leaps, they do with more excellency exercise. For in this pausing, each had brought to his thoughts the manner of the others fight, and the advantages, which by that, and by the quality of their weapons, they might work themselves; and so again repeated the lesson they had said before, more perfectly, by the using of it. Anaxius oftener used blows, his huge force (as it were) more delighting therein, and the large protection of his shield, animating him unto it. Pyrocles, of a morem fine, and deliver strength, watching his time when to give fit thrusts; as with the quick obeying of his body, to his eyes quick commandment, he shunned any harm Anaxius could do to him: so would he soon have made an end of Anaxius, if he had not found him a man of wondered, & almost matchless excellency in matters of arms. Pyrocles used divers sayning, to bring Anaxius on, into some inconvenience. But Anaxius keeping a sounded manner of fight, never offered, but seeing fair cause, & then followed it with wel-governed violence. Thus spent they a great time, striving to do, and with striving to do, wearying themselves, more than with the very doing. Anaxius finding Zelmane so near unto him, that with little motion he might reach her knitting all his strength together, at that time mainly foyned at her face. But Zelmane strongly putting it by with her right hand sword, coming in with her left foot, and hand, would have given him a sharp visitation to his right side, but that he was feign to leap away. Whereat ashamed, (as having never done so much before in his life)