Then Philoclea, exchanging estates with her sister, words arrested by thoughts, she became sad, and the other joyful; who thinking herself well revenged of the past scorn, and having a sufficient pledge of her sister’s secrecy, began to complain of their father’s strict using of them, by surmisings of his own minding to mar their fortunes, so that where he should rejoice at such an occasion, if coming to the knowledge thereof, he would not fail to disappoint it, perchance with the ruin of the princes; which would not only prove a particular loss for them, but, which she lamented more, a general loss for all the world; depriving it of these patterns of virtue, who in all their actions did but point out the height of perfection, and encourage others to follow their footsteps in the way of worth. Therefore it behoved them to regard themselves, and seriously to consider a matter of so great importance. Then, both beginning to muse, night did cast the nets of sleep over their eyes, yet could not hinder their earnest thoughts from prosecuting the course of their own fancies: for what they were thinking when waking, they still dreamed when sleeping.
But ere the morning star began to retire, as giving place to a greater light, whose coming, it, as a forerunner, had only warned the world to attend, both awaked complaining of the night’s length, and having with passionate discourses worn away darkness, as weary of them, they arose and hastily apparelled themselves, though not in a curious, yet in a comely manner. Then, with a pretended charity, they would needs go visit the diseased patient, being themselves impatient. A little before their coming, Musidorus being gone to give order for the burial of Philisides, and, at the earnest desire of Pyrocles, of Anaxius, whose valour now had the full praise, from which his own presumption had derogated much whilst he lived: as they approached to his chamber door, they heard Pyrocles preparing his voice for the convoy of a sadly conceived, and weakly delivered song, which they resolved not to interrupt, attending the letter which followed.
More dangerous darts than death, love throws I spy,
Who by experience now know both their wounds:
Death pierc’d me all, yet could not make me die:
Love with a thought me in effect confounds.
The power of death, art sometimes may restrain,
Where love, I find, can never physic find:
Death only plagues the body but with pain,
Where love with pleasure doth torment the mind.
Death still to all alike none free doth leave;
Where partial love shafts but at some doth send:
Death with more mercy kills than love doth save:
Death’s end breeds rest, love never rests to end.
Death doth enlarge, where love imprisons still;
Death forc’d by fates; love willingly doth kill.
As soon as this song was ended, Pamela opened the door, saluting him still (so to disguise her knowledge) by the name of Zelmane; and asked in what estate she was with herself, who returned this answer; “How can I smart having such angels to give me comfort? Or how can I feel pain in their presence, whose faces are heavens of pleasure?” “Since,” said Pamela, “being only unfortunate by falling in our company, the hazard of your life hath procured our liberty, so that accidentally, though far from our intention, we have been the causes of all your trouble, how can we think of your pain, but as of our own? Or have any delight whilst you rest grieved?” “Wonders of worth,” said Zelmane, “I shall ever, whilst I live, reckon for my highest happiness my being honoured by your company; and as for my travels in this, they are by the success abundantly rewarded, since I could aspire to no higher good than I have compassed, having purchased you any contentment.”
Whilst that passionate Zelmane, with an animated fervency, did incorporate her hand with Philoclea’s, whose speaking looks, however some time out of modesty obliquely moving, had a continual revolution about his face; the black knight’s coming in drew Pamela’s spirits from her thoughts to her eyes. A gentleman followed him, directed from Basilius; who after his duty done to the ladies, having shown them that their father and mother were in good health, invited by their enquiring attendants, told how the first, whom prodigal fame had breathed forth with news, hastened by himself, as who carried an acceptable message in hope of benefit or thanks, certified the king how the castle was won, and his daughters delivered by the black knight, who before had put a period to the victories of Amphialus. At this Pamela looking on Musidorus, blushed; and he, though by no gesture betraying his joy, rejoiced, not because he heard himself praised, but because she heard him praised, and that Anaxius in a single combat was killed by Zelmane, she not long over-living the victory.
The king hearing this, who of his gracious nature would rather save one friend than destroy all his enemies, as if the delivery of his daughters had been a matter of small moment, and a gain too light to counterpoise so great a loss, did abandon his soul to the tyranny of sorrow, even more than majesty in a prince, or virtue in affliction, in the balances of reason, would have allowed of such weight. At this Zelmane’s smile was accompanied with Philoclea’s. But when he spoke of Gynecia’s griefs overgrowing the other, they grew pale, being afraid of the fountain from whence her tears did flow, lest it should drown them.
But whilst Gynecia (the messenger insisted) as run mad with anguish, enclosed in a chamber, would suffer none to come unto her; all wondered that her children being safe, a stranger’s death, or her husband’s grief, could weaken the known strength of her mind so much. The next messenger came, being the latter, and thereby the better informed, who sugared the first news with the assurance of Zelmane’s safety. Then the queen coming forth as after a great tempest, the sky of her countenance cleared, looking brighter than before. The king would have come himself here in person, but he was persuaded to send Philanax with a number of chosen men, to receive the castle and ladies; eftsoons being curious to know who cured Zelmane; when it was told him that the knight who won the castle would trust none with that save himself, he was sorry that one of his worth should be put to such trouble, and would needs have an ordinary surgeon sought out to undertake the charge. “In the meantime the queen came and brought out of a box a sovereign balm, which she hath sent by me to be applied to your wounds, fair Zelmane, not doubting but they will quickly become sound if her direction be observed, which is only that you rest and keep yourself quiet from company now, and by the way till she herself may use other remedies. And for this effect she entreats you, miracles of nature, her daughters, to forbear her company during this time: that your example, whose authority abused might embolden the indiscretion of inferiors, may be a law for others: and she assured me that she would by a secret spy learn how she were obeyed in this. Such a care hath she of this sweet lady’s health.”
By the end of this commission well did Zelmane and Philoclea know at whom in particular those general injunctions did only aim. This enjoined abstinence did give Zelmane a surfeit in sorrow, who had rather have continued still infirm, than to have recovered by so cruel a physic. And yet her misery was multiplied when she remembered the cause, whereof this, in respect of that which she did expect, was a slender issue, and but a little fury, sent to afflict her out of that hell of Gynecia’s breast, into whose company she was shortly to enter. Now the black knight, purposing to depart before Philanax arrived, brought his companion, the knight of the pole, as a partner of his victory, to kiss the ladies’ hands extenuating his own part, and preferring his: Those who have true worth in themselves, can never envy it in another. Thereafter advising him privately to have their little company in a readiness, he went with an uncounterfeited reverence, humbling himself before the idol of his soul, to know her will: telling her what he had done, being only done for her, he would attend thanks from no other; neither would he be known till he might be known for hers: and she, her countenance rather lightening courtesy than affection, desired him to return to his old master, and he should be restored to the estate which by his fault he had before justly forfeited; wishing that he would carry himself more moderately hereafter, if he would not incur her indignation, and raise all regard of him out of her memory.
Then Musidorus, as contented as one who had been brought from hell to heaven, with many vehement attestations to win trust with her, and imprecations against himself in case of perjury, wished, if ever his mind were so unhappy as to be surprised by any purpose tending in the least degree to grieve her, that he might never live till it took effect, but die ere it were discovered. And like a wary gamester, who having once advantage is loth to adventure again, willing to seal up his ears with the acceptable sounds which they had received, he took leave, leaving his heart with her, and taking hers with him. Then went he towards Pyrocles, the joy of his heart shining through his face, and acquainted him with his unwilling absenting himself, referring all further conference till their meeting at the arbour. And having in a complimental manner craved, but not desired employment from Philoclea, in any service after the funerals were performed, he marched with his troop away, the most part thinking that he went to meet Philanax: whilst Pamela from a window followed with her eyes, till clouds of dust did bury their object in the air.
Soon after their departure from the castle, about this time, Philanax arrived, who, immediately after he had received the castle in the king’s name, sought for the knight, whose gift, though not given by him, he esteemed it to be. For he, being generously judicious, thought it more fit that princes should defray obligations by rewards, every man being inferior to him to whom he stands indebted, than to be behind with any by being beholden; and hearing that he was gone by public enquiry for him, and praises of him, he witnessed to the world how highly his valour was valued. After he had saluted the princesses, he visited Zelmane, and told her how careful his master was to have those wounds cured, which in his service had been procured, that thereafter he might otherwise express his gratefulness. But Zelmane affirmed that though that blood which was shed had been followed by all the rest of her body; with the king’s former courtesies towards her, the deserving by the recompense was both preceded and exceeded. Then Philanax, loth to strive with deeds in words, desired her, if her health might serve, to provide for her removing with the rest to-morrow, otherwise, that should be done for her which she herself would direct.