But in Pyrocles, this speech wrought nothing, except where before he was espied he was afraid and after being perceived he was ashamed, now, being hardly rubbed upon, he left both fear and shame and was moved to anger. But the exceeding good will he bore to Musidorus strove against anger. He thus answered him, partly to satisfy him but principally to loosen the reins of his own emotions:
“Cousin, whatsoever good disposition nature bestowed upon me, or howsoever that disposition has been confirmed by my upbringing, I must confess that I am not yet come to that degree of wisdom to think light of the sex from whom I have my life, since if I am anything (which your friendship rather finds, than I acknowledge), I was, to come of it, born of a woman and nursed by a woman. And certainly (for this point of your speech does nearest touch me) it is strange to see the unmanlike cruelty of mankind, who, not content with their tyrannous ambition to have brought the others’ virtuous patience under them, like childish masters think their masterhood nothing without doing injury to those who (if we will argue by reason) are framed of nature with the same qualities 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 honor do seek to counterfeit) well witnesses that if generally the sweetness of their disposition did not make women see the vainness of these things that we account glorious, nonetheless they neither lack valor of mind nor yet does their fairness take away their force. And truly we men, and the praisers of men, should remember that if we have such excellencies, it is reasonable to think them excellent creatures of whom we are born, since a kite never brought forth a good flying hawk. But to tell you true, as I think superfluous to use any words of such a subject that is so praised in itself as it needs no praises, I fear lest my mind (not able to reach unto them) may bring forth words whose unworthiness may be a disgrace to those whom I so inwardly honor.
“Let this suffice, that they are capable of virtue, and virtue is to be loved—as you yourself say, and I too, truly. But this I willingly confess, that I much better like to find virtue in a fair lodging than to seek it in an ill-favored creature, like a pearl in a dunghill.
“As to my fault of being an uncivil guest to Kalander, if you could feel what an inward guest I am host to, you would think it very excusable that I rather perform the duties of a host than the ceremonies of a guest.
“And as for my breaking the laws of friendship with you (which I would rather die than actually do) truly, I could find in my heart to ask you pardon for it, except that your handling of me now gives me reason to confirm my former dealing.”
And here Pyrocles stayed, as to breathe himself, having been transported with a little vehemence, because it seemed to him Musidorus had over-bitterly glanced against the reputation of womankind. But then quieting his countenance as much his unquiet mind would allow, he thus proceeded: “And poor love,” said he, “dear cousin, is little beholden to you: for you are not contented to spoil it of the honor of the highest power of the mind, which notable men have attributed unto it, but you deject it below all other passions—in truth somewhat strangely, since if love receives any disgrace, it is by the company of these passions you prefer before it. For your bitter objections—for example, that lust, idleness, and a weak heart should be the manner and form (as it were) of love—concern me rather than love, dear Musidorus.
“I am a good witness to my own imperfections and 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 you did, by remembrance of my own virtue. Or if, indeed, I am virtuous, then must you confess that love works in a virtuous heart; and so no doubt it does, whatsoever I be. If we love virtue, in whom shall we love it but in a virtuous creature?
“Let us assume that your meaning is not that I should love the word “virtue” when I see it written in a book. Those troublesome effects you say it breeds are not the faults of love, but of him that loves—as a vessel unable to bear such a liquor; like eyes not able to look on the sun; or like a weak brain, soonest overthrown by the best wine. Even that heavenly love you speak of is accompanied in some hearts with hopes, grief, longings, and despairs.
“And in that heavenly love, there are two parts: the one the love itself, the other the excellence 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. When I have practiced in this manner for a while, then you shall see me turn it to greater matters.
“Thus gently you may (if it please you) think of me. Do not suspect that I will be the more womanish because I wear a woman’s apparel, since I assure you that despite all my apparel there is nothing I desire more than fully to prove myself a man in this enterprise. Much might be said in my defense, much more for love, and most of all for that divine creature who has joined me and love together. But these disputations are fitter for quiet schools than my troubled brains, which are bent rather to perform in deeds than to defend in words the noble desire that possesses me.
“Oh, Lord,” said Musidorus, “how sharp-witted you are to hurt yourself.”
“No,” answered he, “but it is the hurt you speak of that 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!”
“No, rather,” answered Pyrocles, “as each excellent thing, once well learned, serves for a measure of all other knowledge.”
“And has that become,” said Musidorus, “a measure for other things, which never received measure in itself?”
“It is counted without measure,” answered Pyrocles, “because the workings of it are without measure, but otherwise, in nature it has measure, since it has an end allotted to it.”
“The beginning being so excellent, I would gladly know the end.”
“Enjoying,” answered Pyrocles, with a deep sigh.
“Oh, now you set forth the baseness of it,” said Musidorus, “since if it ends 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 only when our lives do.”
“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.”
But Musidorus was so grieved to see his well-beloved friend obstinate, as he thought, to his own destruction, that it forced him with more than accustomed vehemence to speak these words: “Well, well,” said he, “you want to abuse yourself. It was a very white and red virtue, which you picked out of the painterly gloss of her visage. Confess the truth, and you shall find the utmost was only beauty. Although you have as much excellence in beauty as anyone, yet I am sure you make no further reckoning of it than of an outward, fading benefit nature bestowed upon you. And yet, such is your lack of a true grounded virtue (which must be like itself in all points) that what you wisely account a trifle in yourself, you fondly become a slave to in another.
“For my part, I now protest I have left nothing unsaid that my wit could make me know or my entire friendship to you requires of me. I now beseech you, even for the love between us (if this other love has left any in you toward me) and for the remembrance of your old careworn father (if you who forget yourself can remember him) and lastly
