Arcadia. Sir Philip Sidney

and their amazement such superstition that, assuredly thinking it was some god begotten of Neptune and Venus that had made all this terrible slaughter, they sailed on by, hands flailing, making their prayers.

      Musidorus was almost as much ravished with joy as they with astonishment. He leaped to the master mariner, took the cord out of his hand and called out, “Dost thou live and art well?” to the young man, who replied, “Thou canst tell best, since most of my well-being stands in thee!” Musidorus threw the rope, but already the ship had passed beyond Pyrocles; Musidorus could do no more than persuade the mariners to cast about again, assuring them that it was but a man, although of most divine excellence, and promising great rewards for their pains.

      They had already turned about when one of the sailors descried a galley, sails and oars bearing down upon them. Musidorus recognized it was a notorious pirate who hunted not only for goods but also for the bodies of men whom he employed as galley slaves or sold at the best market. When the master understood, he commanded forthwith to set on all the canvas they could and fly homeward, leaving poor Pyrocles so near to being rescued.

      What did not Musidorus say, what did he not offer to persuade them to venture to fight? But fear, standing at the gates of their ears, put back all persuasions, so that he had nothing wherewith to accompany Pyrocles but his eyes, nor to succor him but his wishes. Therefore praying for him, and casting a long look that way, he saw the galley leave their pursuit, turn to the spoils of the other wreck, and lift up the young man Pyrocles.

      “Alas,” he said to himself, “dear Pyrocles, shall that body of thine be enchained? Shall thy victorious hands be commanded to base offices? Shall virtue become a slave to those that are slaves to viciousness? Alas, better had it been hadst thou ended nobly thy noble days. What death is so evil as unworthy servitude?”

      That opinion soon ceased, however, when he saw the galley setting upon another ship. It held long and strong fight with her, and Musidorus began afresh to fear for the life of his friend and to wish well to the pirates whom he had hated, lest in their ruin Pyrocles perish.

      Meanwhile the fishermen were speeding toward harbor, and Musidorus lost sight of the outcome; upon their arrival he could induce neither them nor any other mariners to put out to sea. As full of sorrow because he could do nothing as he was void of counsel on how to do anything, he felt sickness growing upon him. The honest shepherds Strephon and Claius (judging the more perfectly the justness of his sorrow because they too were true friends) advised him that he should somewhat mitigate his woe, having come from assurance of Pyrocles’ death to having no cause to despair for his life, just as someone who, lamenting the death of his sheep, would feel pleasure to learn that they had only strayed, though for the moment he knew not where to find them.

      vouchsafing] honoring.

      Chapter 2

      War-torn Laconia

      The shepherds comfort Musidorus and also describe the civil war that has devastated Laconia, where the peasants have revolted. Musidorus, who now calls himself Palladius, is sick and weak, but eager for news of his friend Pyrocles, who uses the name Daiphantus. Seeing that Palladius (Musidorus) is a man of better rank than his appearance indicates, Kalander adjusts his hospitality to suit his guest’s social standing. (1593 ed. 3.28)

      “Now sir,” said they, “this is how it is with us. We are in profession but shepherds and in this country of Laconia little better than strangers, and therefore neither with skill, ability, nor power greatly able to help you. But what we can present to you is this: Arcadia, where we are from, is but a little way from here, and even upon the next confines there dwells a gentleman, by name Kalander, who regards us with favor. A hospitable man, Kalander is so much visited that no news stirs that does not come to his ears. He is so beloved of his neighbors for his upright dealing that many are always ready to serve him to the uttermost. And having the great good will of our prince, Kalander can quickly obtain the use of his name and credit, which has a principal sway not only in his own Arcadia, but in all the countries of Peloponnesus. And this above all, all these things give him less the power to benefit others than his nature gives him the will to do so. No music is so sweet to his ear as deserved thanks.

      “We will bring you to him, and there you may recover your health without which you cannot make any diligent search for your friend, and therefore you must labor for it. Besides, we are sure the comfort of courtesy and the ease of wise counsel shall not be wanting.” Musidorus, unacquainted with the country, his wits astonished with sorrow, gave easy consent to that from which he saw no reason to disagree.

      After defraying the mariners by bestowing a ring upon them, Musidorus and the two shepherds set out together through Laconia. Claius and Strephon took turns carrying his chest, while Musidorus only carried in his countenance the evident marks of a sorrowful mind supported by a weak body—which they, perceiving, and knowing that the violence of sorrow cannot at first be striven against (like a mighty beast, it is sooner tamed with following than overthrown by withstanding), gave way for that day and the next, never troubling him either with asking questions or finding fault with his melancholy, but rather fitting to his dolor dolorous discourses of their own and other folks’ misfortunes.

      Although their speeches had no lively entrance to his senses shut up in sorrow, yet like one half-asleep he took in much that was said to him, and so, as a man might say, ere sorrow was aware, his thoughts turned to something beside his own sorrow until at length he grew content to mark their speeches, then to marvel at such wit in shepherds, then to like their company, and lastly to vouchsafe conference.

      Three days later, the morning strew roses and violets upon the heavenly floor against the coming of the sun, and the nightingales (striving one with the other which could in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorrow) made them put off their sleep. Rising from under a tree (which that night had been their pavilion), they continued their journey, which now welcomed Musidorus’ eyes, wearied by the wasted soil of Laconia, with delightful prospects. Here hills garnished their proud heights with stately trees; the base estate of humble valleys seemed comforted by refreshing, silver rivers; meadows were enameled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets lined with most pleasant shade were witnessed so too by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds. In each pasture sheep fed in sober security, while pretty lambs with bleating oratory craved their dam’s comfort. Here a shepherd’s boy piped as though he should never grow old; there a young shepherdess sang and knit, and her voice seemed to comfort her hands, which in their work kept time to her voice’s music.

      As for the houses of the country (for many houses came under their eye), they were all scattered, no two being one by the other, and yet not so far off as to bar mutual succor—a show, as it were, of a companionable solitude and of a civil wildness.

      “I pray you,” said Musidorus, then first unsealing his long-silent lips, “what countries be these we pass through, which are so diverse in show, the one wanting no store, the other having no store but of want?”

      “The country where you were cast ashore and now have passed through,” said Claius, “is Laconia. It is not the barren soil (though in itself not very fertile) that makes it poor but rather a civil war between the gentlemen and the peasants (called Helots) that has raged these two years within the bowels of the state and disfigured the face of nature, as it were, making the country inhospitable as now you have it. The towns on either side do not willingly open their gates to strangers, nor are strangers willing to enter, for fear of being mistaken.

      “But this country where you now set foot is Arcadia, and nearby is the house of Kalander, where we are leading you. This country being thus decked with peace (and the child of peace, good husbandry), these scattered houses belong to men like us who live upon the commodity of their sheep, and therefore in the ranks of the Arcadian estate are called shepherds, a happy people, lacking little because we do not desire much.”

       “What then,” said Musidorus, “made you venture to leave this sweet life and put yourself in yonder unpleasant and dangerous realm?”

      “Guarded