When the man (who had the charge of appeasing the mad folks' fury) saw this deportment in Nisa, he began to give her rude words and sharp blows. Let him alone said Pamphilus, for I am his countryman and his wife's kinsman, and do not wonder that this sight of me, doth cause in him this sorrow. Whatsoever you are, answered this barbarous fellow, it skills not, here are neither complements nor visitations. And the token of this man's mad fit in coming upon him, is to call his husband, with such or the like words. But if I pacify this, his mad fit said Pamphilus, to what end doth your chastisement serve? And how will you appease it, said the other, is not this an evident token of his madness, that he calls you his spouse, and takes you for a woman? You are ignorant of his humour, and of the trouble he gives us, although he does not appear to be above nineteen year of age. I know all this well, answered Pamphilus. Nevertheless let me speak to him, for I do assure you that myself alone can appease him; and as it is a good work, from anybody who hath a sickness to take away the pain, for some time, though it return again; so in madness, it is a good work to bring to pass, that he who hath lost his wits should recover them again though it were but for one hour.
Yet neither this reason, nor many other, served him to any purpose, for the officers had already put manacles upon Nisa’s hands; and the master did rigorously pull her to the cage, although she had no need of this remedy, nor any other, but the sight of Pamphilus. But as those who are accustomed to lie, are seldom believed, although they say the truth: so in him who is mad, it is accounted a token of greater madness, to seem wise. Thus Nisa was had away to strait imprisonment, and Pamphilus standing ashamed, fearing that everyone knew what was privy only to himself, beheld her with abundance of tears; a thousand times he was about to let go the reins of his passion, which his understanding held in, and to be mad in reason, believing that if he were mad, the chastisement of his madness should be to remain with Nisa, which was the greatest good he could hope for. And to begin his design, he offered (against the laws of this house) to break the gates of the prison, and see her by force: but hardly had he made any demonstration thereof, when the porters with the mad servitors, (such as having recovered their wits, do serve the others) fell upon him, and beating him cruelly, flung him into the street, where (as the fish whereof Aristotle speaks which being drawn out of the water, frames a humane voice and dies) he fetched a great sigh and fell upon the ground exhausted.
The sun was declined low toward the west, colouring with gold and purple that part of the horizon, when Pamphilus returning out of his misery found himself in the arms of a young man, who having compassion of his grief, encouraged him to recover life. Pamphilus looking steadfastly upon him, with heavy sadness, demanded where he was? The young man told him, that he was at the door of the hospital, where the mad folks were kept. And how is it, replied Pamphilus, that I am not within? Because (said the other) thou appearest to be more diseased in body then in the passions of thy mind. Thou judgest by the countenance (said Pamphilus) but if thou hadst seen my heart, thou wouldst rather judge that my evil proceeded from my spirit: true it is, that the body feeleth also the pains of the mind. What kind of evil is thine, answered the young man, being so near the place, where evils of wounded minds are cured? For if thou art not within the Hospital, thou desirest (as it seemeth) to be in, seeing thou dost not deny thy evil; and thou confessest, that it proceedeth from thy mind, the passions whereof are not far from falling into that infirmity which is cured in this place. The evil which I have (said Pamphilus) hath a remedy in this house, and my misfortune is such, that despairing to cure me, they have flung me out. Thou canst have no such evil, answered the young man, but there is an antidote to be found for it. Incurable love (said Pamphilus groaning out a sigh) unto which all the medicines and herbs of physic are improfitable. What is not love but to be cured, answered the other? And are Avicenna's seven remedies of no force, and not true? Of those said Pamphilus, and at the tales which Pliny writeth, my passion worketh; I only allow of his counsel, who adviseth chiefly to marry; but the disposition of my fortune, and the rigorous influence of my stars, not only do not suffer me, but make it to me almost impossible. And although hope sometime promiseth it to me, yet I find that it is truly as Plato calleth it: the waking man's dream. Love, then (said the young man) is the cause of this habit which thou wearest, and of thy pilgrimage. It is so (said Pamphilus) and by that thou may know the quality of my evil, and the difficulty of my cure. Oh, said the young man pitifully sighing, what a grievous story, dost thou renew in me. A history like unto mine? said Pamphilus. If not, said the other, yet at the least of love. By thy faith (then said Pamphilus) dost thou love? I not only love, said the other, but am also more unhappy than thou thinkest, for a stranger and a pilgrim, and no less outraged by fortune. Tell me then, said Pamphilus, (in looking earnestly upon him) thy name and of what country thou art; for in all the years of my banishment, I could never find any man so miserably persecuted as myself: and in this, I have more occasion than all men to bewail my destinies. A Christian, said the stranger, ought never to bewail the destinies, nor think that good or evil fortune depend on them: although many ancient philosophers have believed that there is a kind of devil, and certain imaginary women which they call Parquae, which give the spirit into the creature at the birth, an opinion worthy rather of laughter, than belief; It being most certain, that this name Destiny, is only to be attributed to the decree of God, who truly seeth and knoweth all things before they be, and the ordering of them cannot depend on anything but of him. I know well, said Pamphilus, that the Poets have called these Parquae Destiny, and the Philosophers, especially the Stoics, have believed that it is an order or disposition of second causes, as from the planets under the influence of which we are born, which rule and determine all the inferior good and evil effects which do happen to man: so said Ptolemy, Democritus, Chrysippus and Epicurus, who also ascribe to Destiny, all the inclinations, the vices and the virtues, the desires and passions even unto the actions and thoughts, which some have endeavoured to prove by the authority of Boetius, who says that the order of destiny moves the heavens, and the stars temper the elements, and tie human actions to their causes by a most indissoluble knot.
But leaving apart a matter of so long a discourse, from whence is sprung the error of the Priscillianists, who believe that the soul and the body are necessarily subject to the stars, and many other errors which succeed this first; I desire thou shouldst know, that I speak according to custom, which willeth that this name Destiny, and other Christian idioms, be taken for misfortune, believing that nevertheless, God in his divine providence speaks by Destiny as men express the conceptions of their minds by words. Thy face (said the young man) promiseth no less, than what I have heard come from thy mouth; for thy presence and aspect is an index of thy nobleness, as thy tongue is of knowledge: which worketh in me a great pleasure, and desire to tell thee my name, my country, quality and my misfortunes, which if thou please to hearken unto with patience, I will as briefly as I can relate:
The History of Pamphilus and Celio.
"The city of Toledo, in the heart of Spain; strong by situation, noble by antiquity, famous for the preservation of the Christian faith ever since the time of the Goths, generous both in learning and arms, having a temperate heaven and a fertile Earth. Environed with the famous river Tagus, which is itself also begirt with a high but pleasant hill: it is the place where my now living parents were born, as also myself (although my ancestors in former times came from those parts of the Asturias which are called Santillana, the ancient title of the house of Mendoza) there was I brought up in my more tender years. But when my parents thought I was capable of learning, they sent me to the University of Salamanca, with such company as was fit for a man of my place, to the end that besides the Latin tongue which I knew already, I might study the knowledge of the law. Here I am constrained to make a long digression, because that of the history of another, depends the foundation of mine. My father had other children; Lisard his eldest son, who was in Flanders with the Archduke Albert, where he got no small reputation, principally in the siege of Ostend, and Nisa a daughter, and if I be not partial, one of most excellent beauty, who lived in that honour and good name unto which she was bound by the nobleness of her birth and the care of such parents.
Unto these terms was the young man proceeded in his discourse, whereat Pamphilus exceedingly troubled covered his face with his hands, whereof the other demanding a reason, Pamphilus said to him, that his grief which had brought him unto that estate wherein he found him was returned again, yet he thought it was with less violence than it had formerly done. All this Pamphilus feigned, because the story which the Toledan told him, was his own proper story, and this Nisa whom he called his sister, was the pilgrim whose wits were lost out of the apprehension of Pamphilus' death; so do acts dissembled many times meet, and sometimes do then reappear most when they are most endeavoured to be hidden. I will not proceed in my story, said he if thou find not thyself so well, that thou may hearken unto me; for there is no time worse employed than that which one loseth in speaking to them, which give no ear to the speaker. Thou may proceed, said Pamphilus, (being desirous to understand the estate of his own affairs) for I find my grief begins to leave me, eased by thy presence and thy words. I must tell thee then, said the young man, that there was in Madrid a brave Knight, and a great friend of my father's, with whom he had great inwardness of acquaintance, ever since the wars of Granada, and I think they were together in that famous Battle of Lepanto: from this friendship it followed, that at the end of some years, they treated of the marrying of my sister Nisa, with one of this knight's sons, of whom I now speak, and the young man's name was Pamphilus. But while these things were a-doing, the father of Pamphilus died, and the proposition of marriage ceased. Pamphilus who by the renown that went of my sister, as also by her picture, was taken in her love, and grew wonderful sad and melancholy, and falling from one imagination to another, in the end he resolved upon this which I shall tell thee, that thereby thou may see how innocent those were, who without the light of faith, did anciently believe in fortune and destinies. Which was, that making his mother believe that he would go into Flanders, and journeying some days in the habit and equipage of a man at arms, and after having sent his servants to Alcal�� de Henares, and there disguising himself in other clothes, he went to Toledo: where not being known to any person, he found means to be employed as a servant in my father's house, which was no hard matter to do, because that his excellent feature and countenance accompanied with his intelligence were pledges sufficient of his fidelity, and gave my father not only a desire to be served by him, but also to respect him. My father received him ignorant of his quality and of his intent (a strange imagination of a man, being a knight, and so well known almost of all, in the country wherein he was born; that he could so hide himself, at the door (as it were) of his own house, that nobody could know, either where he was or what he did) yet so it was, that his humility, his diligent service, and other commendable parts which he had, gained such credit with my parents, that I do believe he might as easily have compassed his designs with his feigned poverty, as with his true riches.
The chiefest thing whereunto he applied himself as his whole study, was to appear agreeable to Nisa, which was easy to be done, for who can guard himself from a domestic enemy? The simplicity wherewith this knight did begin his treason, and the good words which he used, gained him entrance into those places whereinto hardly and with great difficulty, could the ancient servants come. Behold with how little care, a noble gentleman kept in his house another Greek horse, like unto miserable Troy: for such of necessity must this young man's heart needs be full of thoughts and armed with malice, which (the hour of execution approaching) broke forth into such flames, as have fired our renown. When Pamphilus thought that Nisa was disposed to hearken to his intention, were it that his sickness were true, or feigned; as most likely it was, he made himself sick. My parents, who accounted of this servant as of their governor, and loved him equal with their dearest children, there being no key about the house, no account in all their expense, nor any secret in their affaires, wherein he was not trusted, caused him to be tended with all the care which was possible for love and respect to bring. The physicians said that this infirmity proceeded from a deep melancholy, and the best remedy that was to be given, was to rejoice him, and principally by music; In which they were not deceived, for if love does participate of the evil spirit, and that David drove away the evil spirit from Saul by the sweetness of his harp, by the same means love might be driven away. Thou sayest true, said Pamphilus, (who gave great attention unto the relation of his own story, to see to what end the discourse of this young man would come, who was his mistress' brother) for without doubt it holdeth many conditions of the evil spirit, and leaving apart the principal which is to torment with fire, behold the sympathy which they have one with the other. The devils do delight themselves in things which are naturally melancholy, inhabiting in horrible places, obscure and solitary, and loving darkness and sadness: all which qualities are common with them which love, and cannot attain to that which they pretend, they desire solitary places, and the dens of deserts, there to entertain in silence their sad thoughts, without anything to trouble them, no not the light of heaven. But let me entreat thee to proceed in thy story of this knight, for I desire with passion to know the end.
My sister Nisa, said Celio, then (for so was the young man called) could play admirable well of the lute, and sang so sweetly that in the like danger, the dolphin would more willingly have brought her to the shore, then he did Arion sometimes to Corinth. Wherefore by the consent of my parents, and not against her will, she went into Pamphilus' little chamber, (consider with thyself the happy glory of a man in his case) and sang a poem which he himself had composed, for he had that way a dextrous facility, and very natural; neither did it want the excellence of art. But whilst Nisa sang, Pamphilus wept, and never turned his eyes from hers; so that one resembled the crocodile, and the other a Siren, excepting that one sang to give him health, and the other wept to deceive her of her honour. Nisa seeing his extremity of sadness, said unto him that her intent was not that her music should have the same effect in him as it had in others, which is, to make them sadder, but contrarily her desire was to rejoice him. There is (answered he) no other voice nor other harmony, unless it may be the harmony of heaven, can rejoice me but yours: nevertheless my evil being past hope of cure, bindeth me to bewail myself, and not to think upon anything but upon the beauty which causeth it. What evil is that (said Nisa) past cure, which proceedeth from a cause commended by thee? It is an evil (answered Pamphilus) whereof I do hinder the cure, and whereof the only comfort is to know that I suffer it for the fairest creature in the world. The liberty wherein we live (said Nisa) doth give me leave Pamphilus, to speak unto the here of a suspicious matter: by the tokens which thou hast delivered unto me of thy evil, thou hast given me knowledge of the occasion that makes thee sick, although I am ignorant of the cause, who makes the sick: thou lovest without a doubt, and I take it in good part that thou wouldst confess unto me, that which thou wouldest not speak unto the physicians, assuring thee that thou may better trust my love then their art. But I conjure thee, by that goodwill which thou knowest I have born thee ever since thou hast served my parents that thou wilt tell me whether I know her whom thou lovest, and whether I can be helpful unto thee in thy curing, for thy tears doe make me pity thee. You may well serve to help me pitiful Nisa (said then the cunning lover, who might well have instructed Ovid) seeing I do not hope for it from any other hands than yours, and that you know the cause of my pain, as well as you know yourself."
Here Pamphilus demanded of Celio (wondering that he should tell so particularly that which passed so secretly between him and Nisa) how he knew the same words which they had spoken, he being at that time far off, following his study in Salamanca? To which Celio answered, that the same Pamphilus had left the story in writing with a friend of his, from whom having had the means since that time to get it, he learned all unto the least particular, and then proceeding on his discourse, he continued in this manner:
"The colour which came into Nisa’s face when she heard Pamphilus' words, cannot be compared, but unto the red rose with milky leaves, although it be a poetical term, and borrowed of the same author, yet feigning not to understand what he said, she answered that if it were any of her friends she would endeavour (at the least) to bring it about that she should know his evil, that thereupon he might lay the foundation of his remedy. I am in that state said Pamphilus that I dare not so much as sigh or breath out her name, yet I can show you her portrait, which is the original cause of my misfortune, and for whose sake I am come from my own country into yours, where I remain an humble servant of your house, and do think myself most happy to be so, although I am a knight, and equal unto her whom you call your friend, and with whom I should have been now married, if my father had lived until this day, for only his death barred me of this happiness. And in saying these words, Pamphilus gave her her picture, which had been drawn by the most excellent painter of our time, called Philip of Lianho; whose pencil oftentimes durst compare with Nature herself, who out of mere envy unto him for that (as it seemed) shortened his days. Yet Nisa (through whose veins ran a cold shivering) affirmed that she did not know the face; I do not wonder said Pamphilus, that the ancient philosopher hath delivered his opinion; that it is a very hard matter to know oneself, putting this sentence: Know Thyself, on the facades of the most famous temples. Yet see another more natural, the knowledge whereof you cannot deny. Saying this, he reached her a very fair looking-glass: Nisa seeing her face within the crystal could no longer suffer his discourse, nor the knight's presence: but rising up in a fury, said unto him in great anger as she went away, thy boldness shall cost thee thy life. Can it be better employed, answered Pamphilus, than for your beauty to be ended?"
She answered well, said the Pilgrim, if she had accomplished what she said. She accomplished it so ill, replied Celio, that within a few days she loved him better than she loved herself, proving the verse of the famous poet Dante to be infallibly true: that love excuseth no one who is beloved from loving. But how came it (said the pilgrim) that a maid should love; who had hearkened with so much disdain in the beginning? Because, answered Celio, that all maids for their first answer consult with shame, and for their second consult with weakness: although for my own part, I think that Pamphilus despairing of his remedy helped himself with charms. I cannot believe so, answered Pamphilus, a man hath liberty to love, and not to love as it seemeth good unto himself, and it seems to be a terrible and cruel thing that a chaste woman should be violently constrained to love, whether she would or no: charms and witchcraft may peradventure move, persuade and tempt without suffering to be in rest, and with these exterior persuasions make one yield unto the prayers and tears of a lover: yet for all this it cannot be said, that she is constrained but that of her goodwill, she giveth consent to her desire, suffering herself rather to be vanquished by her own proper nature, than by the force of any magic art. Wherefore it is an evident folly in those which love, to complain that they are violently constrained will he nil he, to follow their loves, because God never suffereth that the power of free will should be taken from Man; and if anyone say he hath been forced by diabolical persuasions, it may be answered, he was not forced in his reason, but in his concupiscence: neither is it to be believed that a knight, a Christian wise young and brave gentleman, would help himself with such wicked means to attain his ends. It is not likely, answered Celio, and it may be, that he witnessing his fidelity by other services, obliged her to condescend unto his will, for Nisa is not the only woman in this world subject to this weakness.
"Nevertheless, behold the strange accident which happened unto them both, as a beginning of their misfortunes; for it being rumoured at Madrid that Pamphilus was come from Flanders, the news thereof came unto my father's ears, who (desirous to make him his son in law, in favour of the ancient acquaintance and love he had with his father, and because that it had been formerly agreed between them) one day told her, that he was resolved to marry her, not naming unto whom; and thereupon writing to Madrid, to Pamphilus' mother, entreating her to send him to Toledo, congratulating also with her, her son's happy return and the prosperous success of his affairs, and remembered unto her the amity which he had contracted with her husband, his father. The sad Nisa, who already desperately loved Pamphilus, told him that her father would marry her, and the knight who was designed for her husband was shortly to come from Madrid unto their house, but she knew nothing in particular more of him, but that he was a brave soldier who lately came out of Flanders. Pamphilus (ignorant that he was the person who was meant) fell into great extremity at the news, and after many tears and other follies, he said he was resolved to be gone, for his heart would never suffer him to see a new servant unto his mistress in this house. A strange and never heard of story, that a man should be jealous of himself, and fly from his own presence. Nisa who now thought it as impossible for her to be without Pamphilus, as the Earth without water, fire without matter to burn, or as the celestial harmony without their first mover, said unto him in weeping, that she would have him take her away with him, and that she would follow him over the world; yet upon this condition, that he should swear solemnly, never to lose the respect which was due unto her honour: which oath being taken by Pamphilus without any consideration of the danger which might happen: he made choice of a dark night, and by a garden which answered upon the river, took her from the house, and by the same river went from the town, carrying her in his bark, until he came unto those mountains which are called Sisla: this was it which he writ afterwards from Valencia to a friend of his of Saragossa.
Now follows the beginning of my peregrination, which (having been too long in this history) I will briefly relate. At the dolorous letter which was written to me of this success (which was discovered as soon as Pamphilus was gone from Toledo) I came from Salamanca to my father's house, which I found all in mourning for the loss of my sister. My father in few words obliged me to revenge it, which I swore that I would, with many words as free as his were grave: and to execute my intent I went to Madrid. I sought Pamphilus in all the houses of his friends, and visited his mother, asking news of him, making show how things had passed. His innocent mother said, it was two years since he went into Flanders, and that from the time of his departure, she never had heard from him, from whence she collected he was dead. I thought that she, knowing what he had done, had disguised the truth: and while I was in this meditation, I casting my eyes upon a young gentlewoman, who sat sewing by this reverend matron. I found her in my mind so fair, that her only look had power to temper my sorrow, and hardly had I fully viewed her perfections, when as I propounded in myself to serve her, and to steal her away, thinking by this means to give satisfaction to our honour, and beginning to my revenge. To recount unto you at this time all the passages and the care which I used to speak with her, and to bring her to my will, would be to trouble you with a long discourse; let it satisfy that I drew her from her house with the same thread wherewith Pamphilus had pulled Nisa from ours, and in a strange and foolish mind led her into France, where her beauty ministered subject unto a knight to serve her and for me to kill him: from whence it followed that for safety of my life I was driven to leave her. Nevertheless, I am resolved whatsoever happen unto me to seek her, because that besides, I do love her more than myself, I owe so much unto her merit and virtue with which she hath faithfully accompanied me, through many and variable successes."
Night had spread his black veil over the face of the Earth, and the houses were as full of candles, as the heaven of stars; men and creatures retired themselves, from their common labour, when as the miserable Pamphilus gave over hearing the tragedy of his love, with the last act of his honour: and to know that he did then but begin to suffer his evils when he thought he was at an end of them. He admired the justice of Heaven, which had suffered that his sister should so lightly have quitted her mother's house to run away with a man; yet finding in himself the example of his own misleading of Nisa, and that the injury which he had done unto Celio was no less than that which he had received, he did not hold it just in himself once to think of revenge, but rather to persuade him that he should not, nor ought to leave her, which he performed with the best words, and the liveliest reasons he could devise. Remonstrating unto him that amongst gentlemen the only condition of nobleness should bind him to seek for her, which Celio allowing for most reasonable, gave him his word to employ his endeavours to that purpose. And being lodged this night together, they supped and slept in one house. The next morning Pamphilus gave him a letter to a French gentleman with whom he had great acquaintance, that he might favour him in finding out Finia, for so was his sister called. But Celio departed not for certain days, during which time there was a perfect friendship knit between those two secret enemies; so that Pamphilus knowing the offence which Celio had done unto him, pardoned him in his heart, and Celio ignorant that this was Pamphilus, was disposed to the pardoning of him. The resolution was with great oaths to enquire out one the other, and to help each other in all accidents as brothers; assigning the rendezvous within six months, in the city of Pamplona.
So went Celio upon his enterprise; and some few days after his departure, Pamphilus' sorrow increasing out of the opinion that it was impossible for him to recover Nisa; it happened that going one night from his lodging in a vain desire he had to see the windows of the prison (where his happiness and joy was enclosed) he heard a knight cry out for help against some who would at advantage have killed him. He suddenly stepped unto him, and drawing out his sword out of his palmer's staff with an incredible dexterity, accompanied with a valiant & brave courage, made them loose him whom they would have killed, and save their own lives by a shameful though a safe flight.
The knight would needs know who he was, who had delivered him from so great danger: and although Pamphilus excused himself from telling his name, yet the knight's desire and courtesy prevailed more than the humbleness wherewith the pilgrim did endeavour to persuade him that he had done him no service: to conclude, he led him to his house, where his good and gentle behaviour being observed, the knight and his parents bore such affection unto him that they did oblige him to become their guest.
There remained Pamphilus some days, at the end of which Jacinth (so was this knight called) told him the history of his love unto fair Lucinda, and the occasion for which these assassinators wold have murdered him, who for this only cause, were come from Seville unto Valencia where the subject of the passion and the sorrow wherein he lived did remain. I do believe that lovers have some sympathy one with another, and that they join and communicate in such manner as you have seen in this discourse, seeing that our pilgrim never came into any house where there was not someone or other tainted with this evil, even though it were in craggy mountains.
By this overture of Jacinth's secret, Pamphilus was bound to reveal his: and after he had made him swear that he would grant him his request, he said that in recompense of his life which he had saved, as he himself confessed, he conjured him to help him to a place, in that prison where the mad folks were shut up. Jacinth, astonished at so strange a request, would needs know the cause. But Pamphilus promising to tell him as soon as he had done him that favour, and casting himself at his feet with most earnest and unheard of words, affirming the good he should doe him to put him in this place, made Jacinth suspect that some secret danger did enforce him into that place. And willing very generously to satisfy the obligation wherein he was tied, after some inconveniences and reasons urged to divert him, having agreed with him of the means which he should use. That very night Jacinth took five or six men of the hospital who entering suddenly into Pamphilus' chamber, put him in a chair, and carried him away in their arms. Miserable condition of this man, who after so many strange successes, being wise (if those who love can be so) to make himself to be taken and shut up willingly, as a madman, where all the mad folks would willingly be accounted wise.
All Jacinth's house admired at this novelty, and all his family complained that this stranger, unto whom Jacinth owed his life, was so unworthily requited by Jacinth himself: but she who most complained of his cruelty and had the truest feeling of it was Tiberia his sister, who was both fair and discreet above all the ladies in Valencia, who affecting the gentleness and fair spirit of our unfortunate pilgrim, did not see but by his eyes, and did not breathe but from him. Jacinth told them that Pamphilus was mad, and that it was necessary he should be cured before the disease increased too far. The father of this knight, who was very learned, blamed exceedingly this precipitate course, saying that in all infirmities there was nothing more dangerous than physic out of season, and swore that he should be had out of the hospital to be cured in his house. Tiberia confirmed this piety, saying that reward due unto him, they being not so poor, but that they had means sufficient to have him cured in their house, with greater care of his health, and less scandal to his honour Jacinth replied that he was a stranger, and that nobody knew him. But all the household were so much against him, blaming him for ingratitude, especially his father and his sister, that he was constrained to tell them what he knew. Whereat in imagining the cause, all of them were astonished, and wondered. They thought that Pamphilus was a spy, who went disguised under the habit of a pilgrim, and that fearing to be known by someone, he used this subtility to save his life: for although he spoke Spanish, nevertheless, by his fair face and exceeding beauty, he seemed a stranger, and by his actions a gentleman. With this confession, Jacinth remained in their good opinion, though the house was much troubled, and Tiberia was full of pitiful grief and care for Pamphilus' life: who being in prison among the mad folks (in the judgement of many, the very centre of greatest misery) imagined himself to be in most glorious happiness.
To this new madman the more ancient gave place, and Pamphilus, with divers feignings and counterfeitings of his face, endeavoured to express his madness; which fashion of his, seeming them as tokens of rashness, they put him into the prison with irons on his hands, where to confirm them the more in their opinion of his madness, he said so many words so far from the matter, that his affliction was believed. There he stayed some few days before he could see his beloved Nisa, suffering most insupportable discommodities, difficult to be spoken of, and almost impossible to be believed; in the meantime Celio went by Saragossa into France, to find his beautiful and beloved Finia whom he had lost, where being come, he heard the news of the peace which was proclaimed between the two nations, which made him rest that night (with more contentment out of the facility which it brought to his design) staying for the light of the morning to clear his passage over the mountains into France.
The End of the Second Book.
Book Three
Whilst the sad and afflicted Celio entered into France by the mountains of Jaca to see if he could find his dear Finia, our pilgrim Pamphilus having gotten out of the prison, as a madman whose fury was over, was admitted to the table where others did eat, where also sat his fair Nisa; near unto whom he did always endeavour to sit, and there and in all other convenient places he told her his fortunes. She blamed him for putting himself into this place, although she did acknowledge how she was tied unto him, for this his great folly.
Pamphilus as a true lover, who only aimed at the end of his love, which was to marry her, and who had sworn by a thousand oaths to resist the violence of his desires until a lawful marriage would suffer him to accomplish them, said unto her in comforting her, that if she had suffered this misery for him, and that they ought to be all one, there was no reason but he should have his part of this misery, to the end that equal in all things, their marriage might be without advantage of one side or another, and that his love unto her did prevail so far as not to let pass one day without seeing her, notwithstanding any danger, and although his honour were thereby in hazard. The servants of the house did not hinder their speaking together, because that Nisa being apparelled like a man, and having a care that her hair should not reveal her sex, everybody did believe that she was as she seemed to be. For although that her beauty were extreme, yet the world hath not any so great, but it appeareth little, being much neglected; especially seeing that if art do not polish the beautifullest and finest diamonds, and that they be not set in gold with enamelling and other necessary ornaments, they show not the lustre, grace nor beauty which they have being artificially cut and set in a foil by cunning workmen.
The misery of this kind of life seemed unto our two lovers as nothing in regard of the former travails which they had suffered, as I have heard it often said by many: and I myself know by experience that if two lovers may see and speak together, they have no feeling of the miseries which do serve them as means to attain thereunto. Oh what will not those which love resolve of! What is it, which doth not seem possible unto them? What travails can weary them? And what dangers can make them fear? O love strong as death: seeing that a lover living in that which he loves, and being dead in himself, hath no more feeling of torment then a body deprived of a soul. With what tears were these two separated at night, by the cruel officers of this prison? (If it be cruelty to deal rigorously with mad folks) with what care and languishment did they attend the day that they might see one the other? What discreet follies did they utter in public, full of equivocations to deceive those who heard them, and to divert the evils which they suffered? And with what amorous discourses did they in particular warm their desires to marry? How much doth he commend Nisa’s virtue, and the chaste but loving defence which she made of her honour, for Pamphilus being a man had yielded often unto his passion, if she had not moderated his violence? With what grace they gave madly, favours one unto another, of the wildest things they could find upon the ground, which Pamphilus stuck in his hat, instead of jewels or feathers which he was wont to wear. But fortune envying their contentedness, even in this misery, would not let them live in this place at rest, but arming himself anew against them, even at that time when as they thought (by Jacinth's help) to get out of that prison, there came unto this city an Italian earl, of the house of Aguilora, called Emilio, who desiring to have a Fool with him, promised a great alms unto their house if they would give him a madman, who having lost his fury might entertain him with sport. Those of the hospital failed not to promise him one, and withal to bring him to his lodging some of their most peaceable madmen, amongst whom were the pilgrim Pamphilus and the fair Nisa. The Earl joyful to see them, inquired of their keepers their conditions, one of whom answered thus:
This man strong and able who you see there, was sometimes a brave soldier, who having served upon many occasions like a Hector, desired the reward of his valour which he had merited above all other. But he finding himself denied, and that it was given unto the cowardliest fellow in the army, fell from this imagination into so profound a melancholy, that he lost his wits. He hath lost his fury in the prison although oftentimes it returns. His discourse is always of marshalling an army, of besieging a fort, of lodging a camp, or causing it to march. All is sluices, dykes, trenches, platforms, ravelins, casemates, flankers, palisadoes, counterscarps, squadrons, cannons, muskets, pistols, corselets, pikes. This weak and pale man is of another humour, who having given himself too much to the study of philosophy, lost his understanding. Of this man the Earl demanded, which was the Primum Mobile, either Coelum Imperium, or Coelum Crystallinum? unto whom the madman answered thus:
"After moving the spheres by a local motion, the divines do teach us that there is another heaven perpetually in rest from all motion, created from the beginning, and full of an innumerable thousands of intelligences and of happy spirits, which were created together in it and with it. In such sort as the mingled bodies are accustomed to engender some things in inferior places, as fishes in the water, birds in the air and the vegetative creatures, plants and minerals in the earth. This heaven for its greatness and for its inestimable light, is called Imperial, as who should say Fiery (not for the natural property of fire, but for the glorious clearness wherewith it shineth) is the throne destined before the constitution of the world, and as a royal palace ordained from the beginning, for all those who are to reign before the face of God, the light whereof is so lustrous and clear, that the corporal eyes cannot behold or look upon it, no more than the birds of the night can the sun."
All the assistants remaining astonished at this discourse, another one of the madmen began to cry, calling his dogs, and luring his hawks like the great falconer and huntsman as he had been; of whom, as the Earl began to laugh, Pamphilus said thus unto him; you ought not mock at this exercise, but at those who exercise it unorderly and untimely, without respecting either season or place: for according to Xenophon and Athenaeus, hunting was famous amongst the Persians. Homer said it was practised amongst the Greeks that thereby their young men might become hardier; for as Horace writes, the Hunter often lies abroad in the cold night without remembering his wife. Philon the Hebrew tells notable things of hunting, in his Preface unto his Warfare. Cicero says no less, in his book of The Nature of the Gods. And Peter Gregory says that the original thereof, was in the beginning of the world to the end that men should be able to free themselves from the persecutions of beasts. If hunting, replied the Earl, (who was a man of great knowledge) had not passed from the honest exercise (the imitation of war) unto that of pleasure, who would doubt of the excellence thereof? But in regard of the hurt it doth in the fields, and the expense which it brings unto him who follows it? Louis the Twelfth King of France justly forbade it: for what else is the meaning of the fable of Actaeon, devoured by his dogs, but that overmuch hunting wastes both goods and life? And passing by many other things, which might be gathered from this verse of Virgil, where he says, Aeneas and sad Dido went a-hunting together in a wood: joined also the dangers of life which cannot be told, neither is it to be wondered at, that this man became mad, seeing that as Dion assureth the same exercise made the Emperor Adrian a fool. Then answered the mad hunter, that with more reason should he be laid in this place for a madman, because he would persuade madmen, and reason with them who had no reason.
The discourse of this madman, said the Earl savouring nothing of madness, obliges me to answer: for a man must fight with those who give occasion, play with such as have money, and answer unto everyone in the same manner he speaks. But if all the madmen in Spain were as you, and that my children should remain there, I should rather desire to have them ignorant than learned; know said the fool that if it were possible a man should desire to be born in France, to live in Italy and to die in Spain, to be born for the nobleness of the French, who always have had their king of their own nation, and never mingled with any other; to live, for the liberty and felicity of Italy: and to die for the Catholic faith which is so certain in all Spain. And as concerning your children, whatsoever happens of it, suffer them not to live in ignorance; for there is less danger in being mad, than in being ignorant. Whilst this man spoke, another singing near to him let the Earl know that music had brought him to that estate, for it is said; that it is a kinswoman to poetry: the ancients said the madmen have comprised music amongst the liberal sciences. Aristotle in his Politics, Budeus in his Commentary upon the Greek tongue and Caelius the Rhodian do say that music is a mixture compounded of sounds sweet, flat and sharp. Plutarch in the life of Homer puts one voice flat and the other sharp, the flat voice proceeds from within and the sharp from the area of the mouth, and from their divers tempering make the harmony; the object of the hearing is the sound, and the reflection of the air, as Galen teaches; and the sound is made from the act of some one thing into another, by the means of the stroke which causes it: two bodies are required to make a sound, because that one cannot do it. The echo is an air struck into hollow places, which resisting the stroke of the voice, return the same words which are spoken. So say Themiserus, Pliny, Ovid and Macrobius in his Saturnales. The voice and the word are not one thing, the word holds the ground from the tongue helped by the nostrils, the lips and the teeth: and the instruments of the voice are the throat, the muscles which move, and the nerves which come down from the brain. Who was the first inventor of music? asked the Earl. The madman answered, Josephus said that it was Tubal, Adam's nephew, although that others give the invention to Mercury, as Gregory Gerand: and Philostratus said that Mercury learned it from Orpheus and Amphion. But Eusebius attributes it to Dionysus. Then asked the Earl, into how many parts music was divided? The madman answered, according to Boetius, into the theoretical and the practical, be it either natural, artificial, celestial or human; the natural and celestial is that which is considered in the harmony of all the parts of the world: the human is that which treats of the proportions of the body and of the soul, and their parts: for Plato, Pythagoras and Architas have thought that the motions and conversions of the stars cannot be without music. And Vitruvius is of the opinion that buildings are not framed without music. Leaving celestial and human, there follows artificial, divided into musical organs and Instruments.
Thereupon the other madmen began to put in practice that whereof he only showed the theory, and began to make such a noise with confused and discording voices, that it was impossible to understand them. But being appeased, he who kept the madmen made great account unto the Earle of a mad astrologer, who by the contemplation of such high things was fallen into this abasement. Hardly had the Earl looked upon him, when he began to tell him that the composition and figure of the world in its form was called a sphere which was solid, and that passing through the middle, the poles were placed in the extremes or vertical points immovable: one made the North on this side of the Bear, and from the stars of that part of heaven called Aquila, Boreal or Arctic; The other which was opposite by diameter was called Antarctic and meridional; there was he interrupted by others, who would not let him proceed, and after it was not possible to appease them, although there were a great many more painters, poets and mathematicians, but above all there was an alchemist, a famous disciple of Raymundus Lullius.
At this time Emilio had fixed his eyes upon Nisa, and beholding the sadness with which she was silent, he demanded of the Master the humour of this mad creature? Who answered him, that love had brought him to his folly. Her delicate face, and the occasion of her evil, gave him at the same time desire and compassion with such affection, that agreeing with the Master at the price of a hundred crowns, he made choice of her from amongst all the other to lead her into Italy. But hardly had Pamphilus seen the effects of this election, when as his fury increasing truly, which was before but feigned, he struck, he bit and took on, as if he had been enraged against those who took his dear Nisa away. But they being a great many against him alone, the Earl took her from the house, and shortly after from Valencia. And Pamphilus tied up as a madman, was had back again with many grievous blows, bewailing bitterly the loss of his dear Nisa. And by how much he endeavoured to make the officers believe that he was not mad, by so much the more he persuaded them that he was not well in his wits: because being oppressed with grief he told them plainly that he had caused himself to be brought thither only to see this young mad creature, whom they had accounted to be a man, but indeed was a woman and his wife, whom he had concealed under this habit for fear of her father, from whom he had stolen her away.
But they were so confirmed in their opinion of his madness, that by those reasons whereby he did think they were tied to give him his liberty, he made them more obstinate to refuse him, until they might have more evident tokens of the tranquillity of his mind. Whilst he did complain to see that it served him to no purpose to tell the truth, which of all things in the world doth most enrage a man, and that in regard of Jacinth's absence, he could not tell unto whom to have recourse. The unfortunate Nisa was meanwhile come to Barcelona, with so much sorrow and tears that Emilio already repented that he had bought her: inasmuch as there is nothing more unprofitable than a sad fool. The Earl embarked, not knowing that she whom he led with him had the fortune of Scianus' horse, which cost his masters their lives: He endeavoured to rejoice Nisa, causing her to sit at his table, to make her eat meat, because it was told him that she would famish herself to death, where earnestly beholding her face, and considering her actions, he did suspect, that she was neither mad, nor a man: He let this day pass over, and the next day he was assured of both; Inasmuch as so great a sadness could not be feigned; and that Nisa’s reserved speech and the modesty of her looks declared openly that which upon other occasions she had hidden with so much care; Emilio being then persuaded that this mad creature was a woman, or at the least having evident tokens thereof, inquired with great care of her sadness, using her as a gentlewoman, and with respect due unto her sex. Nisa who had now neither care to disguise herself nor to live, confessed she was a woman, and would not be comforted by Emilio’s words: but Emilio, who the more he conversed with her the more was engaged in her love, in the end suffered himself to be vanquished in her beauty: for Nisa now ceasing to appear as a man captivated all those who beheld her with her marvellous grace. Love then began to make himself master over Emilio through pity, which is the cloak under which it enters into our minds; as the pill under gold, that the bitterness may not offend: and his passion increased so far as to desire to know her evil and to procure her remedy. But neither for any effect of love, nor hope of remedy that he could give her would Nisa witness any feeling of pleasure, or obligation to him: all which served to sharpen Emilio's desires, which he did make appear with greater demonstrations: whereat Nisa being grieved, endeavoured to divert him from her love, conjuring him with tears that he would not lead her in this indecent habit. The Earl being courteous offered her other clothes, but she assured him that she had made a vow never to wear any but pilgrim's habit, until she had seen the Patron of Spain in Galicia. Emilio nevertheless did make her one of serge, and the pilgrim being new clothed appeared more beautiful, there being no new apparel which doth not embellish, nor so poor a habit new which doth not enrich a well-proportioned body.
But by this time, a great fog with a tempestuous wind arising in the gulf, the mariners knew by the signs which are wont to forerun such storms that they were likely to undergo a great hazard of drowning. Their presage was not vain, for the wind rose with such extremity and violence and the sea wrought with such huge billows that the Masters could no more command, nor the rowers obey. The Captain was astonished, the pilot pale, some cried, others silent and without stirring remained as men in a trance with fear. And in this confusion which continued six hours, the miserable galley split against the rocks; Emilio who now no more remembered his love, and who knew not that the unfortunateness of Nisa brought forth this effect (clean contrary unto Caesar's fortune, which appeased storms) endeavoured to save his life with much travail: and the heaven reserving Nisa’s life to run greater fortunes, cast her as formerly she had been upon the shore of Barcelona.
Those which remained alive were cast away in the same place: Nisa having stayed some time to recover herself after this fortune went in pilgrimage to Marseille: where one day visiting the famous Church of the Penitent, whom the angels buried in the mountain where God gave his laws to Moses, she saw a woman, a pilgrim as herself though in other habit, who with great devotion was upon her knees at the stairs of the great altar. She appeared to Nisa to be a Spaniard, wherefore desiring better to inform herself, obliged thereunto, by her love unto the country, she stayed at the gate whereat (when having done her devotions) she came forth, and Nisa saluting her, they both found that they were Castilians: their joy was so great that it had been confirmed by embraces, if the man's apparel which Nisa wore, had not hindered it: and little by little they went apart, that they might speak more freely, and with less fear of the French, who already begun to behold their beauties: and being placed under a rock which was adjoining the sea, Nisa said thus unto her, of what province are you, fair Spaniard? Of the Kingdom of Toledo (answered the pilgrim) and of the greatest city, having merited to lodge the kings for many years: you are then of Madrid replied Nisa, and so we are here met by chance two pilgrims of one country, for I am also of Toledo. Then, said the pilgrim, fetching a great sigh: there was born the cause of my peregrination, and of my misfortune. It is easy to be seen in thy youth and in thy beauty, that love hath brought you into these parts; and if it be of a gentleman of whom thou dost complain, I believe I know him. It may be so, said the pilgrim of Madrid, and believe me so soon as I saw you I was abashed, because you have the very countenance of my enemy; you wish me evil by all circumstance, then said Nisa: rather all good replied the pilgrim; for all that resembles his body is agreeable to me, only I complain of the cruelty of his mind. Will you not tell me his name or his parents? said Nisa. I hazard a small matter in telling thee that, answered she; for contrariwise I gain thus much, that it seems to me I am quiet and at peace, having seen thee, which since I lost him never came to me before now. His name is Celio, and the name of a sister which he hath is Nisa, which are the best tokens I can give thee, to make him known to thee; because besides that she is famous for her beauty, she is also more famous for her disgrace. Nisa remained astonished to hear her own name and her brother Celio's (for this pilgrim was Finia, Pamphilus' sister, who had been left in France as you have already heard) wherefore she desired earnestly to know the particular of this story, which Finia related in the same manner as Celio had done to Pamphilus. In the city of Valencia, accusing his jealousy, which had made him cruelly kill a French gentleman from whose death ensued his absence, and all the miseries and travails which she had since endured; Nisa dissembling that part which she had in the story, blamed the cruelty of her brother Celio, and with the contentment, which she received in seeing Pamphilus' portrait, in Finia her beauty, she tempered her grief for his absence, and her sorrow which she had, that both their parents should lose their children for one cause: then did she tell her that she knew Pamphilus, and that it was not long since she saw him, assuring her (as one verily believing) that he was in Spain: Finia demanded of Nisa how she knew him, and where it was that she had seen him? And Nisa because she would not reveal herself, told her that she had known him at Constantinople, where they had been both slaves together: Finia bursting into tears, embraced Nisa and implored her to tell her name and the story of her brother if she knew it: Nisa answered that Pamphilus himself had heretofore in his captivity told it to her, and that she would willingly recount it to her: but first she deceived Finia in telling her that her name was Felix, and that going from Toledo with a captain who embarked in Cartagena, they had been made captives in passing to Oran and afterwards had to Algiers, where a Turk of Constantinople had bought her. And so following the story of Pamphilus which was also hers, from the beginning as you have heard related by Celio until their departure from Toledo, she began to say as follows:
The Story of Pamphilus and Nisa.
"After that Pamphilus went away from Toledo with Nisa, thinking that her father would marry her with another, and being jealous of himself, he told me that suffering some of those discommodities, which do offer themselves unto such men as travail without their lawful wives, they came to Seville, a beautiful city, if the sun shine upon any, for riches, greatness, magnificence, policy, haven and staple of the Indies: where it may be said that twice every year, there enters the substance of all Spain. There would Pamphilus enjoy the beauties of Nisa; but on a sudden he lost the respect which he was accustomed to bear to her chastity against the oath which he had solemnly sworn, and hid himself for some days out of her sight, during which time he was ready to grow mad; yet finding her again, and craving pardon with new oaths to keep the first inviolably, they were friends again.
But Pamphilus being one day at the market place, he was recognised by a merchant of Toledo, a great friend to Nisa her father, who going about to lay hands on him and apprehend him, Pamphilus was enforced to lay hand upon his sword, to defend himself from the Justice. It happened well for Pamphilus, whose courage and address in arms is incredible, and accompanied with an admirable force; He was nevertheless constrained to depart speedily from Seville. And he thinking it discommodious for him to lead Nisa with him in her woman's apparel, he clothed her in a suit of his, and cutting off her hair (of which he after made great relics), he girt a sword to her side, and so they went to Lisbon together; but they were hardly accommodated in their lodging, when as a captain, and a great friend to Lisard, Nisa's elder brother, who was now in Flanders, had advertisement of their coming. Although Nisa were sufficiently disguised, yet her countenance (to those who had formerly seen her) being sufficiently known, would easily reveal that which they did so carefully endeavour to hide.
But their good fortune (which delivered them from these dangers, it may be to reserve them for greater) would at that time, wherein the captain and his friends came to search for Pamphilus, that Nisa was alone in the lodging, of whom having enquired her name and her masters, she said she was a boy who served Pamphilus de Luxan, a knight of Madrid, not thinking that it did import to tell his name in a strange country. The captain never informed himself farther for what he sought; but his ensign inquired news of Nisa; whereat she being troubled, and repenting that she had said anything of Pamphilus, answered that she was gone by sea with Pamphilus to refresh themselves as far as Belen, a famous monastery and the ancient sepulchre of the Kings of Portugal. This sudden lie of Nisa saved Pamphilus' life, or at the least the honour of both those lovers: for the soldiers went presently to the haven attending there for their return; and the captain accounting them already taken, and liking Nisa her fashion, behaviour and countenance exceeding well, entreated her to become his page, assuring her that he would use her better than any that ever had worn his casque: Nisa seemed to yield with great willingness, if he pleased to accept of his service, and dissembling the care and fear which she had of Pamphilus' life, said to the captain that having spoken with her master and given him an account of such jewels and other things as were in his custody, he would not fail to come to him; with this answer the captain and the soldiers were hardly gone out of the doors, when Pamphilus came out of the town to his lodging, little thinking his enemies were so near to him: what help do strange countries bring to those unto whom misfortunes are ever domestic? Nisa told him the danger which threatened him, and Pamphilus having recourse to the remedy, took a speedy resolution to leave Spain. Nisa promised to follow him through seas and lands, (howsoever unknown) and a Portuguese knight who had a company in Ceuta offered to conduct him. Ceuta is a frontier tower of the Moors in Africa, not far from Tetouan, and as it were placed to confront Gibraltar, as the uttermost bound of Europe: by which place it is said the Moors entered, who under the leading of Julian conquered Spain. There remained our two lovers for some time in great peace; although Pamphilus discontent to see his desires denied by Nisa her chaste resolution, had no great quietness in his own mind. He would have married her, but it was not possible to persuade Nisa unto it; she thinking it would be a great disparagement unto her honour for her to be married in this manner: and then when he seemed with reason to persuade her, she contradicted him with tears, remonstrating that she was his, and that true love had a respect unto an honest end, whereas he who propounded unto himself only delight, differed little from a beast. Pamphilus cursed these reasons of Nisa, and sometimes out of grief, would go a whole day and not speak to her, until in the end overcome with her sweet patience, he was constrained to send a thousand sighs as ambassadors for a peace to her, who had the empire over him.
Now the noble courage of this young knight, seeing himself amongst so many brave soldiers, who went every day to the wars against the Moors, did believe that it was a dishonour to his birth to carry a sword idle by his side, whilst others bathed theirs in their enemies' blood; wherefore one morning from the watchtowers, the bells and trumpets giving the alarm, incited by his own generosity and with the disdains wherewith Nisa in his opinion had disgraced him three or four days before, he went forth armed at all points, having a red scarf upon his left arm, a white feather upon his helm, and a mountain of snow upon his shield; from the top of which, as from Mount Etna in Sicily came a mouth of fire. So went Pamphilus out upon his bay horse, which had a black mane and a black tail, and a white star on the forehead, filling the Portuguese with admiration to see with what address he managed him; and how gracefully he bore his lance; but Nisa her evil fortune or his own desperate resolution who prayed at his departure that she might not see him return alive, suffered the battle to be ordered in such manner that day that the Christians had the worst; and Pamphilus searching death, broke into a squadron of Moors where being wounded and overthrown, he was taken and led prisoner unto Fez.
The news of this accident came speedily to Nisa's ears, for the report of evil successes come sooner to the ears of lovers than that of happy events: what her grief was it is not necessary to express, otherwise than in representing Nisa far from her parents, out of her own country, and from any friends, and which was most, from the dear presence of him for whose sake she had quitted all these, and for whose loss she was almost out of her wits. But as the greatest encounters of fortune do sometime bring forth the greatest strength and courage of the mind; so Nisa's grief raised in her mind such valiant virtue, that she boldly thrust herself into the acquaintance and friendship of a Moor, who with a safe conduct trafficked in Ceuta: him she so far gained with her affability and presence, that he lead her with him to Fez under the habit of an Arab, he teaching her in a few days the greatest part of the language (of which she was not altogether ignorant before) Nisa thus lived in Fez in the habit of a Moor, and under the name of nephew to this barbarian, who charmed with her understanding, gentleness of spirit and graceful behaviour, endeavoured to persuade her to leave our religion, promising to give him his daughter with the best part of his estate, which was exceeding much. Nisa did not refuse him, nevertheless she entreated him that he would first suffer her to be instructed in the law, that she might receive it with more assurance, and more quietness of mind. With these words and with her beauty, Nisa grew absolute master of this Moor, of his women (wherein they abound) of Leila Acha his daughter, of his goods, his slaves and his horses: upon which as she rode up and down the town for her pleasure, she was almost adored by these barbarians. She called herself Hassan Rubin amongst them, a name which Ali Japha had given her in memory of his son, in whose place he accounted of her, saying that she was his portraiture. Amongst Ali Japha's slaves there was one Spaniard, with whom Nisa having many times speech, she entreated him that he would inquire secretly with whom a slave of the Kingdom of Toledo lived; and whose name was Pamphilus? This man found out the same day, and following her when she was alone, he told her that Sali Murat had taken him in a battle which was fought in Ceuta, and had him still in his power, with other slaves who served the masons about the house which he was building: Nisa glad of this news, in the evening got on horseback, clothed in a scarlet casque, laid about with gold lace, having a hat upon her head embroidered with pearl and a great feather, and a rich sword of Tunis hanging in a scarf by her side: in this manner she went into the street where Sali Murat dwelt, and saw (in a new house which was there being built) her miserable (but beloved) Pamphilus, not yet fully healed of his wounds, having a poor doublet of course canvas and breeches of the same, without shoes upon his feet, and carrying with another Christian the materials wherewith that house was to be built; she stayed not (as she had thought) because that seeing him in this state, the tears which she shed would have revealed her; but feigning to turn her horse in the street, and the beams of her face properly resembling them of the sun having scattered the clouds of this water, she stayed looking upon these slaves, and said unto Pamphilus in the language of Fez, why doth Murat build this fair house, having another in this street so fair? Pamphilus answered (according to his knowledge) that they were for the keeping of slaves, because that since his good success in the former war he was grown proud, and did presage that he should have many. Thou art then his slave, said she, in the Castilian tongue. Pamphilus answered that by his misfortune he was brought to that estate, and earnestly beholding her face, let fall to the ground that which he held in his hand, wondering to see a Moor which should so perfectly resemble his beloved Nisa: for that this should be she, he could not persuade himself, by reason of her language, her habit and the small time since that he left her in Ceuta: so he remained without speaking, endeavouring to cover his astonishment and confusion by his silence, when as she speaking to him in the Arabian tongue asked of him if he were a knight? Pamphilus more assured that it was Nisa, by the resemblance of her face, and distrusting it was not she by her language, hearing her speak the language of Fez so naturally, answered her. I told Sali Murat that I was a poor man, but because you resemble so much a master which heretofore I had (unto whom I never lied in my life) I will not deceive you. I am a Castilian Knight, and of the Kingdom of Toledo, and of a place whereof it is not possible but you should have heard, because that the names of prince's courts are notorious to all nations, as Paris in France, Rome in Italy, Constantinople in Greece and Madrid in Spain; there was I born, subject unto this misfortune wherein you see me. But gentle Moor, I pray tell me, who you are and why you ask of me my country and my quality? I am, said Nisa, nephew to the governor Ali Japha, and son to Muley Nuzan his brother, by a Christian slave who was born in Toledo: my name is Hassan Rubin, although that heretofore I called myself by my mother's name, Mendoza: my uncle's son being dead, he sent for me to Morocco, the place of my birth, from whence he brought me hither, and to comfort himself called me by the name of his son; promising me to marry me unto Leila Acha his daughter, who is the fairest in all Africa, and this is the reason which inciteth me to love Christians (who are well born) because my mother was one; especially Spaniards and of her own country: and it grieves me extremely that thou art belonging to this governor, who is reputed to use his slaves hardly, as it may be seen by experience in thyself, who being such that thy nobility doth manifestly appear, notwithstanding the misery and poverty of thy clothes, yet doth put thee to such vile labour. Wherefore as well because thou pleasest me well as for the reasons which I have told thee, I will bring it to pass, if thou think good of it, that Ali Japha shall buy thee, and in his house there shall be nothing wanting unto thee but thy liberty; as for all other things I will use thee as myself. Pamphilus at these words cast himself at her feet, and by force did many times kiss them, thanking her for the favour which she did him.
So being departed, Nisa told Ali Japha the desire which she had unto a Spanish slave who was evil entreated of Sali Murat; the Moor, who desired to oblige him absolutely and to satisfy his pleasure in all things, went the next morning to Sali Murat; to treat with him about the sale of this slave; which being not refused unto him, they talked of the price: Sali demanded a thousand ducats, because (sayeth he) he had been taken in good equipage, both for arms and horse, and a red scarf upon his left arm, a thing which (he said) in the time of his being in Spain he had seen in kings' portraitures: Nisa who was most interested at the bargain said to him that in Spain clothes were common, and the pride of soldiers equal to the majesty of their princes: In the end they agreed upon five hundred ducats, and Nisa going to the chamber where Pamphilus lay, took him along with her; he filled with tears, and imaginations, attributing this kindness to the resemblance which was between the Moor and Nisa, and oftentimes he resolved to believe that it was she; for although the habit and tongue disguised her, yet the voice and countenance revealed her. She lodged him in a place differing and better than that of the slaves: she caused him incontinently to be clothed, and going to see him the first night, she brought him one of her smocks, entreating him to wear it under his: Pamphilus cast himself at her feet, and Nisa turning herself away, he humbly kissed the ground which she had trodden upon. But they had not long talked together when Pamphilus grew so certain that if she was not Nisa he was mad; that thereby he could not sleep, he could not eat nor do any other thing but show her his thoughts in the violence of sighs: Nisa fearing that in this perplexity he might lose his wits, to assure him and thereby to know the secret of his heart, uttered these words one day to him; Pamphilus the love which I bear thee constrained me to procure thy good, and to solicit thy rest: I told Ali Japha that I stood much affected unto thee, and he answered me, that if I wished he would send thee into thy country, that thou shouldst go upon thy word, and that from thence thou shouldst upon thy honour, send him that which thou owest him. But I who lose my life in losing thee have entreated him to give thee my sister Fatima to wife, and that thereby I doubted not but I should persuade thee to alter thy religion and become a Moor; If thou canst bee contented to do this for me I shall know thy gentleness, and thou shalt enjoy the most beautiful gentlewoman in all Morocco, and shalt be one of the richest men of all Africa, because that besides what my father left her, my uncle will give her a great part of his estate also, and I will give thee mine, and my wife and I will sojourn under thy government.
Pamphilus, whose intent was to make her reveal herself unto him, or else to nettle Nisa so far as that she should declare herself, coldly answered, that to obey her, and to requite the duty which he owed her, he would willingly become a Moor; as well for that reason, as also that he had seen Fatima sometimes in the baths; of whom he was grown so amorous that the little pleasure and less health which he had, proceeded from thence. Hardly had Nisa heard Pamphilus' resolution when in an extreme fury she said unto him, Ah perfidious traitor and barbarous enemy: without God, without faith, without love, without loyalty; is this that which thou owest unto heaven, to thy parents, to thy country and to the unfortunate and miserable Nisa? Who to deliver thee hath put herself into such great dangers? I knew well my most beloved Nisa, answered Pamphilus (embracing her) that this subtlety was necessary, for to make thee reveal thine; for thou governest thyself in such manner that before thou wouldst have otherwise plainly declared thyself to me, I should have lost my wits, if not my life. Let go my arm, ungrateful wretch, said Nisa; use no more these subtleties, having discovered so much perfidious weakness; but wretch that I am, why do I complain? Seeing that he who forsaketh God doth not injure me in forsaking me: but in the end after many sorrowful complaints, his satisfactions had such virtue that her anger being overcome by her love, they remained friends, with more pleasure and firmness than ever, as it always happens between true lovers.
This day passed away, followed with many others, during which time they entered into deliberations of the means whereby they might recover their liberty; which seemed to them impossible in respect of the love which Ali Japha bore unto Nisa, as also in respect of the love which Fatima bore unto Pamphilus; for she having heard that he would be a Moor and that his uncle would marry her to him, favoured him, to Nisa's great grief who upon this jealousy was for the space of three months without any loving correspondence with him: Behold an unheard of story! Wherein is to be seen what a woman (who loveth) can effect; seeing she deceived the distrust of an old Moor, and brought all his house to that point that all things were governed by the only will of Pamphilus: who taking better counsel, whilst Ali Japha was gone to Taroudant where the king lay at that time, wrought so handsomely with Acha and Fatima that they would go into Spain with him, upon the remonstrance which he made to them that his love was certain and assured, and theirs deceitful, false and not to be believed: they were not hard to be persuaded, because they were women, Moors, and lovers; three things of a lesser resistance. So one fair night, having packed up all the best jewels they could find, they got all four to horseback, and Pamphilus being clad in the like apparel unto Nisa that thereby they might pass more surely, they came unto Ceuta, where being joyfully received by the General, he accommodated them with shipping for Lisbon. There he let Acha and Fatima understand that it was necessary for them to go to Rome, that the chief and holy Pope might receive them into the Church, and pardon them himself: all which they did the sooner to get out of Spain; they being contented to follow them wheresoever they would go, embarked themselves all together in a ship of Aragon, which had brought in wheat, and having a fair wind they arrived in Sicily, from whence because it was the year of Jubilee, they went all four in the habit of pilgrims to Rome. There Acha and Fatima were baptized: Acha was called Clementina (of his Holiness' name), and Fatima was called Hippolyta, from her godmother. The marriage was resting still, to be performed according to promise. But Pamphilus and Nisa entertained them always with hope, remonstrating unto them that it was not fit nor just that they should be married before they came unto their father's house. So after they had seen the great part of Italy and France, from thence they passed into Spain, where they thought that Nisa's parents' anger was by this time over, for when thefts in love are not chastised upon the act in warm blood, they are always remitted with time. But having run a dangerous fortune in a miserable tartana into which they had embarked themselves at Villa Franca, and having been long beaten with a sore tempest, they finished their shipwreck within the sight of the walls of Barcelona, neither is known, whether Nisa and the Moors are alive or dead: but Pamphilus swimming attained unto a plank of the ship, and within a day after, being taken up by some Moors of Bizerta, they carried him to Constantinople where I saw him a captive, and where he told me what I have related."
Thus Nisa added to the truth to hide herself from Finia, knowing already by that which was related in the first Book, how she and Pamphilus were both taken up half drowned, one by the fishers and the other by captain Doricles, with their several successes in their peregrinations in Spain, until they met together amongst the madmen in the hospital of Valencia. Finia thanked her much for the news which she had told her of her brother, showing some grief for the death of Nisa; afterwards having concluded their return into Spain, they retired themselves together to Marseille, where they rested for some days, Finia believing always that Nisa was this Felix, whose name she had borrowed.
In the meantime, miserable Pamphilus suffered in prison with more rigorous pain than he did before, because that his fury increasing with his grief he was kept so much the more straitly, by how much he was thought to be the more mad. In the end Jacinth came to Valencia and being advertised by Pamphilus of his misfortune, he drew him out of the cage, and had him to his house, saying that his parents had sent him five hundred crowns of Castile to defray the charge of his cure at home. All those who remained in the hospital were sorry, because until that time, there was never seen a madman so wise, nor a wise man which did imagine so many follies. There did Pamphilus take again his ancient habit, and being departed from Jacinth and his sister, (in whom the wonderfulness of his story raised no less love than pity) took again the second time his way to Barcelona, where he was no sooner come but he was met and known, by one of those whom he had wounded in Montserrat: he was then the second time laid in prison in the same place where the two Germans his companions had remained until that time. A thing worthy of admiration in any understanding, that a man should not be able to find the clue whereby he might get out of so many labyrinths; from Barcelona to Valencia, and from Valencia to Barcelona, in journeying in a small part of his country, with more variable successes then Aeneas did in his voyage of Italy, or Ulysses in that of Greece. Pamphilus saw there his friends with great grief, and was received by them with great joy. And Finia and Nisa coming from Marseille little by little over the craggy mountains which divide France from Spain, came unto Perpignan, where I leave them to their rest, attending the Fourth Book.
The End of the Third Book.