as much as learning commonly adds to nature. Having neglected wealth in favor of knowledge, they less impaired the meaner than they bettered the better—despite which it is a sport to hear how they credit love for strengthening their powers of thought.
“But certainly all the people of this country, from high to low, are given to sports of wit. You would wonder to hear how soon even children will versify. It is common even among the lowest class to make songs and dialogues in meter. Either love sharpens the brain, or, long peace having begun the process, example and emulation further it. Even the clown Dametas will stumble sometimes on some songs that might become a better brain.
“No people are as excellent in that skill as the shepherds. Since their living rests only on looking after their beasts, they have ease, the nurse of poetry. Neither are our shepherds such as I hear shepherds are in other countries; instead, they own their sheep, and either they care for their sheep themselves or their children give daily attendance. Truly it would delight you when two or three of them meet together under some tree or by some riverside to hear their rural muse. How prettily they deliver sometimes joys, sometimes lamentations, sometimes challenges to one another—sometimes under hidden forms putting forth such matter as otherwise they would not dare express. A judge will award the best a prize, for which they are no less glad than great princes for their triumphs. Then the judge sets down in writing all that was said (although with more leisure his pen may polish the rudeness of an unthought-on song).
“Of course the prince has the choice of all, either for goodness of voice or pleasantness of wit, among whom there may be two or three strangers made weary of the world’s eyes by inward melancholies, who have come to spend their lives among the country people of Arcadia. And their conversation being well thought of, the prince grants them his presence, and by his watching with great courtesy and generosity, he animates the shepherds to labor the more exquisitely for his good liking. No blame goes to the prince for sometimes listening to them, only from hearing them in private instead of in company. Nor do I blame my master for advancing a countryman such as Dametas, since God forbid that outward lowness should hinder the promotion of worthiness; indeed such is found among various members of that class. But he chose a mind so base it sinks even now a thousand degrees lower than the basest body could drag the basest fortune—though it might be said for the prince that he trusts his simple plainness, and has only advanced him to being chief herdsman. Still, all honest hearts feel that the trust of their lord goes beyond any advancement.
“But I always spend too long on him whenever he crosses the path of my speech, and I see by the shadow of yonder tower that it is a fitter time to have supper and pay the duties we owe our stomachs than to break the air with my idle discourses. I could have known better from Homer (whom you just mentioned), who never entertained either guests or hosts with long speeches till the mouth of hunger was thoroughly stopped.”
So with that he rose, leading Palladius through the garden again to the parlor where they usually supped. Palladius, however, assured him that he had already been fed more to his satisfaction than he could be by the most skillful trencher-men5 of Media.
Chapter 5
Argalus and Parthenia
A steward explains to Musidorus what has happened to Kalander’s son Clitophon, who has gone to help Argalus, the cousin of Gynecia. Both Clitophon and Argalus are now held by the Helots’ new captain, who joined the Helots after killing another man. Argalus had been captured by the Helots after killing their captain Demagoras, the man who disfigured Parthenia (Kalander’s niece and Argalus’ love). (1593 ed. 8v.١١)
When they came to the supping-place, one of Kalander’s servants rounded6 in his ear, at which—his color changing—Kalander withdrew into his chamber, commanding his men diligently to wait on Palladius and to excuse his absence by some necessary business he had presently to dispatch. They did accordingly, and for a few days forced themselves to let no change appear; but though they framed their countenances ever so cunningly, Palladius perceived some ill-pleasing accident had fallen out.
One day, again set alone at supper, Palladius called to the steward and desired him to tell him the matter of Kalander’s sudden alteration. After some trifling excuses the steward at last confessed that his master had received news that his son Clitophon, before the day of his near marriage, chanced to be at a battle fought between the gentlemen of Lacedemon and the Helots. The Helots had won, and they took Clitophon prisoner when he himself tried to gain the release of a friend of his whom they had captured. That friend, a poor young gentleman, had offered great ransom for his life, but the hate those peasants conceived against all gentlemen was such that every hour he was to look for nothing but cruel death, which hitherto had only been delayed by the vehement dealing for him of the Helots’ captain, who seemed to have a heart of more manly pity than the rest.
The loss of his son had stricken old Kalander with such sorrow that his abundance of tears were not sufficient to witness it. He retired alone, tore his hair and beard, and cursed his old age that had not made his grave stop his ears from such advertisements.
Meanwhile his faithful servants wrote in his name to all his friends, followers, and tenants. Philanax, the governor, was refusing to deal in it because it was a private cause, yet he gave others permission to seek their best redress so long as they wronged not the state of Lacedemon. There were now gathered upon the frontiers good forces that he was sure would spend their lives in any way to redeem or revenge Clitophon.
“Now sir,” the steward said. “This is my master’s nature. Although his grief is such that to live is a grief to him and 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 any stranger lodged under his roof to receive, as it were, any infection of his anguish—especially you, toward whom I know not whether his love or admiration be greater.”
Palladius could scarce hear out his tale with patience, so was his heart torn into pieces with compassion of the case. He admired Kalander’s noble behavior, the kindness of Kalander’s respect for him, and desired to find some remedy. He also thought of his dear friend Daiphantus, whom he judged suffered either a 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. By knowing the circumstances he might find a way to help. Whereunto the steward easily in this sort condescended:
“My lord,” said the steward, “when our good king Basilius with better success than expectation took to wife (even in his more than decaying years) the fair young princess Gynecia, there came with her a young lord, first cousin to herself, named Argalus, led here partly by the love and honor of his noble kinswoman, partly by the humor of youth, which ever thinks that good whose goodness he sees not. In this court he received such good increase of knowledge that after some years spent, he so manifested a most virtuous mind in all his actions that Arcadia gloried that such a plant was transported here. He was a most rarely accomplished gentleman, excellently learned, but without any vainglory; friendly without factiousness; and valiant, so as for my part, I think the earth has no man that has done more heroic acts than he.
“Lately the fame flies of the two princes of Thessalia and Macedon, as it has long done of our noble prince Amphialus, who in these parts is also considered his match. For my part, I think no man for valor of mind and ability of body to be preferred to Argalus, although he may be equaled. He is valiant in a way that restrains him from doing anybody injury. Some will say his behavior is always sad, surely sober, and somewhat given to musing, but never uncourteous. His word is ever led by his thought and followed by his deed. He is rather liberal than magnificent, though the one wants not and the other always makes a good choice of the receiver. In sum, for I perceive I shall easily take a great draught of his praises, whom both I and all this country love
