LITMIR.BIZ

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guided by love.”

      “But now,” said Claius, “since it has pleased you to ask anything of us—so base that knowing us is only darkness—give us leave to know something of you and of the young man you so much lament, so that we may know what to inform Kalander, and he to know how to proportion his entertainment.”

      Musidorus had arranged with Pyrocles to alter both of their names, so he answered that he was called Palladius and his friend Daiphantus. “But till I have him again,” he said, “I am indeed nothing, and therefore my story is nothing. However good a man he is, Kalander’s entertainment cannot be so low as I account 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 brought him to the house, which was well situated for the air, the prospect, and the nature of the ground, with such necessary additions as showed that Kalander knew that provision is the foundation of hospitality, and thrift the jewel of magnificence.

      The house itself was built of fair and strong stone, affecting not so much an extraordinary fineness as an honorable representation of firm stateliness. The lights, doors, and stairs were directed for the use of the guest rather than the eye of the artificer, and yet, though the use was chiefly heeded, the eye was not neglected, each place handsome without curiosity and homely without loathsomeness, not too dainty as not to be trod on, nor yet slubbered up by good fellowship. All was more lasting than beautiful, except that the consideration of exceeding lastingness made the eye believe it was exceedingly beautiful.

      The servants were not so many in number as clean in apparel and serviceable in behavior, testifying even in their countenances that their master took the same care to be served as of them that did serve. Forthwith, one of them welcomed the shepherds (though they were poor) as men their master greatly favored. From them the servant learned that the young man with them was to be much accounted of, for they had seen tokens of more than common greatness howsoever eclipsed by fortune. He therefore ran to his master, who presently came forth and welcomed the shepherds. Kalander was especially concerned with their noble companion. Privately Strephon told all that he knew of him, particularly that he found the stranger loath to be known.

      “No,” said Kalander, speaking aloud. “I am no herald to enquire of men’s pedigrees. It suffices me to know their virtues, which—if this young man’s face be not a false witness—better apparel his mind than you have his body.”

      While he was thus speaking, there came a boy (in show like a merchant’s apprentice) who, taking Strephon by the sleeve, gave him a letter written jointly to him and Claius. It was from Urania. They no sooner had read it but, taking leave of Kalander (who quickly guessed and smiled at the matter), they started off, hastily recommending the young man to him.

      Musidorus was loath to part with them both for their good conversation and his obligation to them. He therefore opened the chest which they had been carrying for him, and would have presented them with two very rich jewels, but they absolutely refused them, telling him that they were more than enough rewarded by knowing him. And without waiting for a reply, like men whose hearts disdained all desires but one, they sped away as if the letter had brought wings to make them fly.

      Kalander judged his guest to be of no mean calling, and therefore the more respectfully entertained him. But Musidorus’ sickness (which the fight, the sea, and recent travel had laid upon him) had grown greatly. Fearing some sudden accident, he delivered Kalander the chest, full of precious stones gorgeously and cunningly set in diverse manners. He asked him to guard those trifles and, if he died, to use as much as was needful to locate and redeem a young man named Daiphantus who was in the hands of Laconian pirates.

      He became more and more faint, and Kalander, with careful speed, conveyed him to the most commodious lodging in his home, where he was possessed by an extreme burning fever and continued some while with no great hope of life. But youth at length got the victory of sickness, and in six weeks the excellence of his returned beauty was a credible ambassador of his health, to the great joy of Kalander, who meanwhile had sent forth a ship and a galley to seek and succor Daiphantus, employing certain friends of his that dwelt near the sea in Messina. At home he omitted nothing which might either profit or gratify his guest, whom he knew by the name Palladius. By daily discourse with him, Kalander found in him a mind of most excellent composition—besides his bodily gifts beyond the degree of admiration. He had 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; and a behavior so noble as gave majesty to adversity. Finding all these in a person whose age could not be above twenty-one years, the good old man was enamored with a fatherly love. Or rather, he became his servant by the bonds such virtue laid upon him, once he had acknowledged himself so to be by the badge of diligent attendance.

      Chapter 3

      Family Portraits

      Kalander shows his elegant house to Palladius, then describes Basilius (“ruler”), the prince of Arcadia. Basilius married a younger wife, Gynecia (“woman”), daughter of the king of Cyprus. He explains that having consulted an oracle, Basilius keeps his younger daughter Philoclea (“lover of glory”) at home. His elder daughter Pamela (“all sweetness”) is guarded by a lout named Dametas, whom the foolish king trusts. Kalander describes Dametas’ shrewish wife Miso and recites an ironic poem in praise of the beauty of Mopsa, their daughter. (1593 ed. 4v.29)

      Returned to health, Palladius yet remained, to hear whatever news the ships brought back. One afternoon his host led him abroad to a well-arrayed ground behind his house, which he thought to show him before his going, a place that delighted Kalander more than any other. It was neither field, garden, nor orchard (rather it was field, garden, and orchard together). As soon as the descending stairs had delivered them down, they came into a place cunningly set with trees of the most taste-pleasing fruits. But scarcely had they taken that into consideration, when they were set upon a delicate green. On each side of the green was a thicket, and behind the thickets were new beds of flowers which, being under the trees, allowed the trees to form a pavilion and the flowerbeds a mosaical floor. The art therein seemed to delight in counterfeiting its enemy, error, and making order out of confusion.

      In the midst of all was a fair pond whose shaking crystal perfectly mirrored all the other beauties. There seemed to be two gardens, one real, the other reflected. In one of the thickets there was a fine fountain: a naked Venus of white marble wherein the graver had used such cunning that the natural blue veins of the marble set forth the beautiful veins of her body. At her breast she had her infant Aeneas, who (having begun to suck) seemed to leave off to look upon his mother’s fair eyes, which smiled at the babe’s folly while water ran from her breast.

      Close by was a pleasure home built as a summer retiring place. Kalander led him there, where he found a square room full of delightful pictures made by the best painter in Greece. There was Diana when Actaeon saw her bathing; in her cheeks the painter’s mix of color showed both shame and disdain. In one of her foolish nymphs who wept and scowled at the same time, one might see the workman meant to set forth tears of anger. Another painting showed Atalanta, her posture and limbs so lively expressed that if eyes were the only judges, as they are the only seers, one could swear that the very picture ran. There were others, of Helena, Omphale, and Iole, but in none of them did beauty seem to speak so much as in a large painting of a comely old man with a lady of middle age but excellent beauty. And her beauty would have been deemed more excellent still had not there stood between them a young maiden whose wonderfulness took away all beauty from her except what (it might seem) she returned to her by resembling her. Learning that the picture did indeed counterfeit a living person, Palladius found such a difference between her and the subjects of all the other paintings, including the goddesses, that it seemed the skill of the painter had bestowed new beauty on the others, while her beauty had bestowed new skill on the painter. He thought inquisitiveness an uncomely guest but he could not help asking who she was, this woman whose bearing showed that natural gifts could outreach invention.

      Kalander answered that it was a portrait of Philoclea, the younger daughter of his prince, who was represented in the picture along with his wife, the

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