Sir Philip Sidney

Arcadia


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it fell, has ceased. And the error committed in retaining Clitophon more harshly than his age or quarrel deserved has become a sharply learned experience, to use more moderation in the future.

      “Now have I to deliver unto you the conclusion between yourselves and the kings with the nobility of Lacedemon. It is in all points as you yourselves desired, as well for that you would have granted them as for the assurance of what is granted you. The towns and forts you presently have are still left unto you, to be kept either with or without garrison, so long as you do not alter the laws of the country, and you pay such duties 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 the election of magistrates.

      “The distinction of names between Helots and Lacedemonians will be quite taken away, and all will enjoy both the name and privileges of Laconians. Your children will be brought up with theirs in the Spartan discipline, and so you, framing yourselves to be good members of that estate, are hereafter no longer servants but fellows. These conditions, as you see, carry in themselves both satisfaction and assurance. For this is not a peace that is made with them, but a peace by which you are made of them.

      “Lastly, a forgetfulness is decreed of all that is past. They show themselves glad to have so valiant men as you joined with them, so that you are to be mindful of peace, since the cause of war is finished. As you hated them before as oppressors, so now you shall love them as brothers. Take care of their estate, because it is yours. Labor by virtuous doing, that posterity may not repent your joining.

      “But now one article only they stood upon, which, in the end, I and your commissioners have agreed to: that I should no more tarry here. Perhaps they mistake my humor and think me as seditious as I am young. Or else King Amiclas procures this, because it was my bad luck to kill his nephew Euryleon. Whatever the reason, I have condescended.

      “But so will not we!” cried almost the whole assembly. They counseled one another rather to try the uttermost event than lose him by whom they had been victorious. But using general orations as well as particular dealing with the men of most credit, Pyrocles made them see how necessary it was to prefer such an opportunity before a vain affection. Yet he could not prevail until he openly swore that he would come back again and be their captain if at any time the Lacedemonians broke this treaty.

      After a few days, he had set them in perfect order and taken his leave. Their eyes bade him farewell with tears, their mouths kissed where he slept, and they made temples to him, as to a demigod, thinking him beyond the degree of humanity to have a wit so far over-going his age and to have dreadful terror proceeding from such excellent beauty. For his sake they pardoned Argalus, who swore never to bear arms against the Helots, although his countenance well showed that while Parthenia was lost, he did not count himself delivered.

      Taking only certain principal jewels of his own, Pyrocles would have left with Argalus alone except that the multitude felt obliged to guard him until he reached Arcadia. There, leaving them all to lament his departure, he by inquiries got to the well-known house of Kalander. There he was received with loving joy by Kalander, with joyful love by Palladius, with humble though doleful demeanor by Argalus (whom specially both he and Palladius regarded), with grateful serviceableness by Clitophon, and with honorable admiration by all.

      That is, he was admired as one who had done acts beyond the degree of a man, the more so since he was now well-viewed to have no hair on his face to witness him a man. And he possessed a certain, almost bashful, kind of modesty, as if he who had been unmoved with the sight of the most horrible countenances of death feared the eyes of men —and as if nature had mistaken her work, having put a Mars’ heart in a Cupid’s body.

      All that beheld him—and all that might behold him did behold him—made their eyes messengers to their minds that there they saw the uttermost that in humankind might be seen. The like wonder Palladius had before stirred, but now Daiphantus, as younger and newer come, had gotten the advantage in the moist and fickle impression of eye-sight.

      While all men—saving poor Argalus—made the joy of their eyes speak for their hearts toward Daiphantus, Fortune (that belike was bid to that banquet, and meant to play the good-fellow) brought a pleasant adventure among them. It happened that as they had newly dined, there came in to Kalander a messenger who brought word that a young noble lady, near kinswoman to the fair Helen, queen of Corinth, was come thither and 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 once this company had broken up, he might go in his solitary quest after Parthenia.

      When he met this lady, Kalander straight thought he saw his niece Parthenia and was about to have spoken unto her in such familiar sort, but she, in grave and honorable manner, gave him to understand that he was mistaken. Half ashamed, he excused himself by referring to the exceeding likeness between them—though indeed it seemed that this lady was of a more pure and dainty complexion. She said, it might very well be, they having been many times taken for one another.

      As soon as she was brought into the house, before she would rest herself, she desired to speak with Argalus publicly, whom she had heard was in the house. Argalus came hastily, and as hastily, he thought as Kalander had thought before his sudden joy changed to sorrow.

      When she had stayed their thoughts with telling them her name and quality, she spoke to him in this sort:

      “My Lord Argalus, when I was of late left in the court of queen Helen of Corinth as chief in her absence—she being upon some occasion gone thence—there came unto me the lady Parthenia, so disfigured, as I think Greece has 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 from her I understood the whole tragical history of her undeserved adventure, including, my lord Argalus, your most noble constancy, that whosoever loves not, shows himself to be a hater of virtue and unworthy to live in the society of mankind.

      “No outward cherishing could salve the inward sore of her mind, and a few days later she died. Before her death she earnestly desired and persuaded me to think of no husband but you, as of the only man in the world worthy to be loved. For that reason she gave me this ring to deliver to you, desiring you, and, by the authority of love, commanding you, that you should turn to me the affection you bore her. She assures you that nothing can please her soul more than to see you and me matched together.

      “Now, my lord, though this office be not (perchance) suitable to my estate nor sex (as I should rather look to be desired), yet Parthenia’s extraordinary desert requires an extraordinary proceeding. Therefore I have come—with faithful love built upon your worthiness—to offer myself and to beseech you to accept the offer.

      “And if these noble gentlemen present here will say it is great folly, let them withal say it is great love.” And then she stayed, earnestly attending Argalus’ answer; who, first making most hearty sighs (doing such obsequies as he could to Parthenia) thus answered her:

      “Madam,” said he, “I am infinitely bound unto you for this courtesy —no more rare than noble. But I am more 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 unfortunate a man (fit to be the spectacle of misery) can do you service, be resolved that you have made a purchase of a slave, never to fail you while I live.

      “But for this great matter you propose to me, wherein I am not so blind as not to see what happiness it should be to me, excellent lady, know that if my heart were mine to give, you before all other should have it. But it is Parthenia’s, though she is 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. No likeness can make such a love, no commandment dissolve, no foulness defile, nor no death finish.”

      “And shall I receive,” said she,