It happened at this time that all the sea-gods met to celebrate the wedding of the Thames and the Medway. A solemn feast in honour of the event was held at the abode of Proteus, and there Cymoent, with many others, was summoned. With her went Marinell, but, as his father was only a mortal, Marinell was not accounted a god, and might not banquet with immortals or eat of their food. Therefore, while his mother was within, he wandered about examining the strange abode, and, as he did so, there befel to him a strange adventure. From under a hideous overhanging cliff he heard a sad voice uttering such piteous lamentations that the cruel rocks and raging billows seemed moved in sympathy. It was Florimell, who, believing herself alone, bewailed her fate aloud. Though none could hear, she nevertheless spoke out her grief in the hope that the very recital might yield her some comfort, for
Heaven, that unto all lends equal ear,
Is far from hearing of my heavy plight,
And lowest hell, to which I lie most near,
Cares not what evils hap to wretched wight,
And greedy seas do in the spoil of life delight.
She mourned that while the beating of the waves pierced the hardest rocks, her piteous plaints only hardened the tyrant's heart against her. Then she prayed all the sea-gods to release her, or else to let her die at once, and ended by the words, "Know, Marinell, that all this is for thee." After this followed such an outburst of grief and weeping that it seemed as if poor Florimell's heart must break.
On hearing her sad complaint, Marinell, who had never yet been touched by pity for the misfortune of any, was filled with remorse and grief at the thought of Florimell's condition.
In his sorrow began the dawning of his love, and he set himself to devise the fair damsel's escape. He thought of suing Proteus for her release, but this he could not do without his mother's aid, and he remembered her charge against the love of women. For a moment he contemplated rescuing her by force of arms, but Proteus was a god, while he had only mortal's might. Then he bethought himself of carrying her off by stealth, but the damsel was surrounded by water, and he possessed no means of getting her to land. So he wandered sadly about the rock, blaming himself severely for not having acknowledged her goodness and beauty long ago.
At length the feast was over, and Marinell was obliged to accompany his mother home, and, sore against his will, leave Florimell in her sea-walled dungeon. Thinking of nothing but her sad fate, he was silent and disinclined for companionship, and so brooded over his secret sorrow that he could neither eat nor sleep. He pined and languished and wept until he grew so weak and ill that he could not stand upright, but was forced to lie upon his couch.
When his mother saw his miserable state, she was greatly troubled, and knew not what to think, for she could not discover the source of his malady. She fancied his old wound was the cause, and repaired to Tryphon, whom she chid sharply because of her son's distress. He returned with her and examined the wound, but said that Marinell's present discomfiture must have some other source, perhaps an unknown grief. At this Cymoent was more troubled than before, and went to her son, beseeching him to reveal to her what lay hidden in his heart, but he would not. Then forsaking the sea-gods as of no avail, she hastened to the heavens, and thence brought Apollo, god of healing, to see her son. He declared the disease to be love.
Cymoent grieved and fretted greatly when she heard this, and went to her son and prayed him in gentle words to tell her which one of the sea-nymphs he loved. She felt sure it must be a sea-nymph, and was the less concerned since the god's warning had been only against a mortal maid. She therefore promised, whoever it might be, to aid him in his suit. Great was her dismay when Marinell replied that he loved Florimell. But it was no time to indulge in fruitless grief, for her son lay in danger of his life. Cymoent therefore went straight to Neptune, and telling him of Proteus' cruelty towards Florimell, begged him to order her release. This Neptune at once did, and armed with his warrant she went to Proteus' cave, and there saw the maiden whom her son loved. The old sea-god read his monarch's mandate in moody silence, but was forced to obey, and therefore yielded his prisoner to Cymoent. She, charmed by Florimell's grace and gentle loveliness, took her by the hand, and welcomed her lovingly, rejoicing that her son should have so fair a wife. Then Cymoent showed her son the fair maiden, and his heart and spirit were so cheered within him that his strength gradually returned, and he became himself again. Nor was Florimell less glad.
After a time Marinell took her back to Faeryland, where he married her, and there was a great banquet held in honour of the wedding, and after the feast a tournament, in which Marinell did deeds of great renown, of which you shall hear more in the tale of Braggadochio.