Greatly did Sir Calidore admire both her beauty and her carriage, for they seemed to him to far excel the shepherd’s estate. “Surely,” he said to himself, “this may be a princess who thus disguises her high condition.” And even while he thought the thought in his heart, Love took him unawares. So he sat musing, and, for a while, so taken was his heart with this new thought, forgot the chase.
And now the evening was come and it behoved the shepherds to fold their flocks. So there came an aged sire, Melibæus by name, who was commonly reputed to be the father of the fair maiden—Pastorella was her name. So indeed it was believed, but, in very truth, he had found her as an infant lying in an open field, and taking her home, had brought her up as his child, for child of his very own he had none. The old man said, “Night falls, and we must fold the flocks.” Nor was there any want of helpers to the fair Pastorella. Many were eager to manage her sheep, and none more eager than Corydon.
Then Melibæus, seeing how Sir Calidore sat alone, seeming to have no place of abode, and that night was now near at hand, said to him: “Fair sir, I have but a humble cottage; yet is this a better lodging than the bare field; I pray you to take up your abode with me this night.” To which Sir Calidore gladly agreed, for indeed there was nothing that he more desired.
A hearty welcome did the old man and his wife accord to the knight. Shortly after, the fair Pastorella came back from folding her flock, and they all sat down to sup in high content, and had much pleasant talk concerning the shepherd’s life, the delights of which old Melibæus set forth. “Let those who will seek after honour and wealth and the good things of this world: I am content with what I have. My nights I spend in quiet sleep, my days in honest toil. I take good care that the fox shall not harm my lambs; I catch birds in snares, and fishes with hook and net. When I am weary, I rest my limbs under the green tree; when I am thirsty, I drink of the brook. Time was when I was not content with these simple things, but must raise myself above my fellows, and seek fortune elsewhere. So I left my home and betook myself to the King’s Court, and worked for hire. But I perceived that in this life there was vanity and discontent; after ten years, therefore, had passed, I came back to my home and to peace, and I have learnt to love it daily more and more.” While the good man talked, the knight was well content to listen. Much he liked to hear such speech, but more to look at the fair Pastorella.
After a while he said to the old man, “Good father, I would gladly rest a while in this peaceful place. The ship of my life has of late been greatly tossed by tempestuous winds and in stormy seas. Let it therefore find haven here, and I meanwhile will meditate what course I shall follow for the time to come. But I would not that my entertainment should be a burden to you. Your simple fare and such lodging as you can give content me well; but for these you should have fair guerdon.” So saying he drew from his pouch a great store of gold, and would have the old man take it. But Melibæus pushed it from him.
“I desire it not,” he said; “this is the thing that breeds such mischief in the world. But if you are content to abide here and lead our shepherd’s life, be it so; I am well content.”
So Sir Calidore abode in the old man’s house, delighting himself with the daily sight of the fair Pastorella, and bearing her company whenever he could find excuse. Very high courtesy did he show to the maid; but she, having been used to more lowly things, held it in but light esteem. This the knight did not fail to perceive. So he doffed his knightly attire, and clad himself in shepherd’s dress, and laid aside his spear for a shepherd’s crook. One had thought him another Paris when for Œnone’s sake he fed her flocks on the Phrygian Ida. So did the shepherd Calidore go day by day to the fields with Pastorella’s flock. He kept watch against the wolf while the maid sported and played, and at even—such is the might of love—he would essay to help in the milking of the ewes.
These things were little to the liking of Corydon, who had long courted the maid. He wore a scowling face and would complain that old service was forgotten, and bore himself in most injurious fashion. Calidore, on the other hand, never abated one jot of his usual courtesy, showing no sign of rancour or offence, but rather seeking, as it seemed, to commend his rival to the good opinion of the maid. So when they danced to the piping of Colin Clout, and the others would have Calidore lead the ring, the knight took Corydon and set him in his place. And when Pastorella took the garland of flowers from her head and set it on Calidore’s, he again put it on the head of Corydon, much to the youth’s content. Another time, when the shepherds had games and contests of skill and strength, the prize being a garland which the fair Pastorella had twined with her own hands, Corydon stepped into the ring and challenged the knight to a bout of wrestling. He was himself well skilled in the art, and being supple and strong sought to put his rival to open shame. But he was much mistaken in his man, for the knight far excelled him both in strength and in skill, and gave him such a fall as well-nigh broke his neck. Nevertheless, when Pastorella bestowed on him the crown, he passed it to Corydon, saying that he in truth deserved it more, and that he had prevailed by fortune rather than by skill. Thus did the knight, so courteous was he and large of heart, win the fair maiden’s favour. But there was nothing which advanced him more than that which is now to be told.
On a certain day when these three, to wit, Pastorella and Sir Calidore and the shepherd Corydon, went out into the wood to gather strawberries, a tiger suddenly rushed out from a thicket, and with wide gaping mouth ran at the maid. She, seeing herself alone, for her companions chanced to be divided from her, cried aloud for succour. And when Corydon, who was the nearer of the two, heard the cry, he ran to help her. But when he saw how fierce a beast it was that was attacking her, his courage failed him, and he fled, putting his life before his love. But Calidore, who also had heard the crying, coming not far behind, when he saw the tiger and the maiden held in his claws, ran at the beast with all his strength, and first striking him to the ground with such a blow that the creature could not stand under it, then cut off its head and laid it at the maiden’s feet. Small wonder is it that she gave her love to a knight so courteous and so bold. So for a while they abode in great content, save that Sir Calidore had put out of his mind the quest on which he was bound, concerning which quest he had sworn to the great Queen Gloriana that nothing should hinder him from it.