THE ELIZABETHAN AGE-PROSE SIR PHILIP SIDNEY (1554-1586) FROM THE COUNTESS OF PEMBROKE'S ARCADIA* To My Dear Lady and Sister, the Countess of Pembroke: Here now have you, most dear, and most worthy to be most dear, Lady, this idle work of mine, which, I fear, like the spider's web, will be thought fitter to be swept away than worn to any other purpose. For my part, in very truth, as the cruel fathers among the Greeks were wont to do to the babes they would not foster, I could well find in my heart to cast out in some desert of forgetfulness this child, which I am loath to father. But you desired me to do it; and your desire, to my heart, is an absolute commandment. Now it is done only for you, only to you. If you keep it to yourself, or to such friends as will weigh errors in the balance of goodwill, I hope, for the father's sake, it will be pardoned, perchance made much of, though in itself it have deformities; for, indeed, for severer eyes it is not, being but a trifle, and that triflingly handled. Your dear self can best witness the manner, being done in loose sheets of paper, most of it in your presence, the rest by sheets sent unto you as fast as they were done. In sum, a young head, not so well stayed1 as I would it were, and shall be when God will, having many, many fancies begotten in it, if it had not been in some way delivered, would have 1 steadied Sidney did not mean to "walk abroad" into print with his book. This will partly explain the loose style in which it is written. But Elizabethan prose in general was much inferior to Elizabethan poetry Scholars-the writer class-still clung to Latin, and even Bacon's vigorous English is marred by Latinisms; men of action, like Raleigh, wrote in Eng lish, but naturally were little concerned for style while the work of conscious stylists, like Lyly and Sidney, suffered from "Euphuism." that fashion of affectation and conceits that so weakened the prose of the age. (Eng. Lit., p. 128.) The brief selection given here lacks narrative interest, but will exemplify this curious style and also give a glimpse of that Arcadia which has been idealized in poetry and romance into an imaginary paradise of the simple, natural life. grown a monster, and more sorry I might be that they came in than that they gat out. But his chief safety shall be the not walking abroad, and his chief protection the bearing the livery of your name, which, if my goodwill do not deceive me, is worthy to be a sanctuary for a greater offender. This say I because I know thy virtue so; and this say I because I know it may be ever so, or, to say better, because it will be ever so. Read it then, at your idle times, and the follies your good judgment will find in it blame not, but laugh at; and so, looking for no better stuff than, as in a haberdasher's shop, glasses or feathers, you will continue to love the writer, who doth exceedingly love you, and most, most heartily prays you may long live to be a principal ornament to the family of the Sidneys. Your loving Brother, PHILIP SIDNEY. FROM BOOK I It was in the time that the earth begins to put on her new apparel against the approach of her lover, and that the sun running a most even course becomes an indifferent arbiter between the night and the day, when the hopeless shepherd Strephon was come to the sands which lie against the island of Cithera,† where, viewing the place with a heavy kind of delight, and sometimes casting his eyes to the isleward, he called his friendly rival the pastor2 Claius unto him; and, setting first down in his darkened countenance a doleful copy of what he would speak,‡ "O my Claius," said he, "hither we are now come to pay the rent for which we are sc called unto by overbusy remembrance; remembrance, restless remembrance, which claims not only this duty of us, but for it will have us forget ourselves. I pray you, when we were amid our flock, and that,3 of other shepherds, some were running after their sheep, strayed beyond their bounds, some delighting their eyes with seeing them nibble upon the short and sweet grass, some medicining their sick ewes, some setting a bell for an ensign of a sheepish squadron, some with more leisure inventing new games for exercising their bodies, and sporting their wits,-did remembrance grant us an holiday, either for pastime or devotion, nay, either for necessary food or natural rest, but that still it forced our thoughts to work upon this place, where we last-alas, that the word 'last' should so long last-did grace our eyes upon her ever-flourishing beauty; did it not still cry within us: 'Ah, you base-minded wretches! are your thoughts so deeply bemired in the trade of ordinary worldlings, as, for respect of gain some paltry wool may yield you, to let so much time pass without knowing perfectly her estate, especially in so troublesome a season; to leave that shore unsaluted from whence you may see to the island where she dwelleth; to leave those steps unkissed wherein Urania printed the farewell of all beauty?' "Well, then, remembrance commanded, we obeyed, and here we find that as our remembrance came ever clothed unto us in the form of this place, so this place gives new heat to the fever of our languishing remembrance. Yonder, my Claius, Urania alighted; the very horse methought bewailed to be so disburdened; and as for thee, poor Claius, when thou wentest to help her down, I saw reverence and desire so divide thee that thou didst at one instant both blush and quake, and instead of bearing her wert ready to fall down thyself. There she sate, vouchsafing my cloak (then most gorgeous) under her; at yonder rising of the ground she turned herself, looking back toward her wonted abode, and because of her parting, bearing much sorrow in her eyes, the lightsomeness whereof had yet so natural a cheerfulness as it made even sorrow seem to smile; at the turning she spake to us all, opening the cherry of her lips, and, Lord! how greedily mine ears did feed upon the sweet words she uttered! And here she laid her hand over thine eyes, when she saw the tears springing in them, as if she would conceal them from others and yet herself feel some of thy sorrow. But woe is me! yonder, yonder did she put her foot into the boat, at that instant, as it were, dividing her heavenly beauty between the earth and the sea. But when she was embarked did you not mark how the winds whistled, and the seas danced for joy, how the sails did swell with pride, and all because they had Urania? O Urania, blessed be thou, Urania, the sweetest fairness and fairest sweetness!'' With that word his voice brake so with sobbing that he could say no farther; and Claius thus answered, "Alas, my Strephon," said he, "what needs this score to reckon up only our losses? What doubt is there but that the sight of this place doth call our thoughts to appear at the court of affection, held by that racking steward Remembrance? As well may sheep forget to fear when they spy wolves, as we can miss such fancies, when we see any place made happy by her treading. Who can choose that saw her but think where she stayed, where she walked, where she turned, where she spoke? But what is all this? Truly no more but, as this place served us to think of those things, so those things serve as places to call to memory more excellent matters. No, no, let us think with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with love, and love with joy in the midst of all woes; let us in such sort think, I say, that our poor eyes were so enriched as to behold, and our low hearts so exalted as to love, a maid who is such, that as the greatest thing the world can show is her beauty, so the least thing that may be praised in her is her beauty. Certainly, as her eyelids are more pleasant to behold than two white kids climbing up a fair tree, and browsing on his tenderest branches, and yet are nothing compared to the day-shining stars contained in them; and as her breath is more sweet than a gentle southwest wind, which comes creeping over flowery fields and shadowed waters in the extreme heat of summer, and yet is nothing compared to the honey-flowing speech that breath doth carry, no more all that our eyes can see of her-though when they have seen her, what else they shall ever see is but dry stubble after clover-grass-is to be matched with the flock of unspeakable virtues laid up delightfully in that best builded fold. sun's beauty by marking how he gilds these "But, indeed, as we can better consider the his own face, too glorious for our weak eyes; waters and mountains than by looking upon so it may be our conceits-not able to bear her sun-staining excellency-will better weigh it by her works upon some meaner subject employed. And, alas, who can better witness that than we, whose experience is grounded upon feeling? Hath not the only love of her made us, being silly ignorant shepherds, raise up our thoughts above the ordinary level of the world, so as great clerks do not disdain our conference?s Hath not the desire to seem worthy in her eyes made us, when others were sleeping, to sit viewing the course of the heavens; when others were running at base, to run over learned writings; when others mark their sheep, we to mark our selves? Hath not she thrown reason upon our desires, and, as it were, given eyes unto Cupid? Hath in any, but in her, love-fellowship maintained friendship between rivals, and beauty taught the beholders chastity?''. . . [The shepherds rescue the shipwrecked Musidorus and undertake to lead him to the home of a hospitable man in their native country of Arcadia.] So that the third day after, in the time that the morning did strow roses and violets in the heavenly floor against the coming of the sun, the nightingales, striving one with the other which could in most dainty variety recount their wrong-caused sorrow, made them put off their sleep; and, rising from under a tree, which that night had been their pavilion, they went on their journey, which by-and-by welcomed Musidorus' eyes with delightful prospects. There were hills which garnished their proud heights with stately trees; humble valleys whose base estate seemed comforted with the refreshing of silver rivers; meadows enamelled with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers; thickets which, being lined with most pleasant shade, were witnessed so to, by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds; each pasture stored with sheep, feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs, with bleating oratory, craved the dam's comfort; here a shepherd's boy piping, as though he should never be old; there a young shepherdess knitting, and withal singing: and it seemed that her voice comforted her hands to work, and her hands kept time to her voice-music. As for the houses of the country-for many houses came under their eye-they were all scattered, no two being one by the other, and yet not so far off as that it barred mutual succor; a show, as it were, of an accompanable10 solitariness, and of a civil wildness. "I pray you," said Musidorus, then first unscaling his long-silent lips, "what countries be these we pass through, which are so diverse in show, the one wanting no store, the other having no store but of want?" "The country," answered Claius, "where you were cast ashore, and now are passed through, is Laconia, not so poor by the barrenness of the soil-though in itself not passing fertile as by a civil war, which being these two years within the bowels of that estate, between the gentlemen and the peasantsby them named Helots-hath in this sort, as it were, disfigured the face of nature and made it so unhospitable as now you have found it; the towns neither of the one side nor the other willingly opening their gates to strangers, nor strangers willingly entering, for fear of being mistaken. But this country where now you set your foot, is Arcadia; and even hard by is the house of Kalander, whither we lead you. This country being thus decked with peace, and the child of peace, good husbandry, these houses you see so scattered are of men, as we two are, that live upon the commodity of their sheep, and therefore, in the division of the Arcadian estate, are termed shepherds-a happy people, wanting little because they desire not much."' SIR WALTER RALEIGH (1552?-1618) THE LAST FIGHT OF THE REVENGE.* The Lord Thomas Howard, with six of her Majesty's ships, six victuallers of London, the bark Raleigh, and two or three pinnaces, riding at anchor near unto Flores, one of the westerly islands of the Azores, the last of August in the afternoon, had intelligence by one Captain Middleton, of the approach of the Spanish Armada. Which Middleton, being in a very good sailer, had kept them company three days before, of good purpose both to dis 1 Armada fleet; armado single warship. In the fall of 1591 a small fleet of English vessels lay at the Azores to intercept the Spanish treasure-ships from the Indies. On the appearance of the Spanish war-vessels sent to convoy the treasure-ships, the English vessels took to flight, with the exception of the Revenge, the Vice Admiral of the fleet, commanded by Sir Richard Grenville. The story of the fight of the Rerenge was written by Raleigh, a cousin of Grenville's, and published anonymously in 1591; it was included, eight years later, in Hakluyt's Voyages. con also celebrated the fight as "a defeat exceeding a victory," "memorable even beyond credit and to the hight of some heroical fable," in which "the ship for the span of fifteen hours sat like a stag amongst hounds at the bay, and was sieged and fought with in turn by fifteen great shins of Spain." See also Froude's essay on England's Forgotten Worthies, and Tennyson's ballad, The Revenge. Ba cover their forces the more, as also to give advice to my Lord Thomas of their approach. He had no sooner delivered the news but the fleet was in sight. Many of our ships' companies were on shore in the island, some providing ballast for their ships, others filling of water and refreshing themselves from the land with such things as they could either for money or by force recover.2 By reason whereof our ships being all pestered, and rummaging every thing out of order,† very light for want of ballast, and that which was most to our disadvantage, the one half of the men of every ship sick and utterly unserviceable. For in the Revenge there were ninety diseased; in the Bonaventure, not so many in health as could handle her mainsail-for had not twenty men been taken out of a bark of Sir George Cary's, his being commanded to be sunk, and those appointed to her, she had hardly ever recovered3 England. The rest, for the most part, were in little better state. The names of her Majesty's ships were these, as followeth: the Defiance, which was Admiral, the Revenge, Vice Admiral, the Bonaventure, commanded by Captain Crosse, the Lion, by George Fenner, the Foresight, by Thomas Vavisour, and the Crane, by Duffield; the Foresight and the Crane being but small ships only-the other were of middle size. The rest, besides the bark Raleigh, commanded by Captain Thin, were victuallers, and of small force or none. squadrons in despite of them, and enforce those of Seville to give him way. Which he performed upon divers of the foremost, who, as the mariners term it, sprang their luff,8 and fell under the lee of the Revenge. But the other course had been the better, and might right well have been answered in so great an impossibility of prevailing. Notwithstanding out of the greatness of his mind he could not be persuaded.‡ In the meanwhile, as he attended those which were nearest him, the great San Philip, being in the wind of him, and coming towards him, becalmed his sails in such sort as the ship could neither weigh nor feel the helm: so huge and high carged was the Spanish ship, being of a thousand and five hundred tons; who afterlaid the Revenge aboard.10 When he was thus bereft of his sails, the ships that were under his lee, luffing up, also laid him aboard; of which the next was the admiral of the Biscayans, a very mighty and puissant ship commanded by Brittan Dona. The said Philip carried three tier of ordinance on a side, and eleven pieces in every tier. She shot11 eight forthright out of her chase,12 besides those of her stern ports. After the Revenge was entangled with this Philip, four other boarded her, two on her larboard, and two on her starboard. The fight thus beginning at three of the clock in the afternoon continued very terrible all that evening. But the great San Philip, having received the lower tier of the Revenge, discharged with crossbarshot, shifted herself with all diligence from her sides, utterly misliking her first entertainment. Some say that the ship foundered, but we cannot report it for truth, unless we were assured. The Spanish ships were filled with companies of soldiers, in some two hundred besides the mariners, in some five, in others eight hundred. In' ours there were none at all besides the mariners, but the servants of the commanders and some few voluntary gentlemen only. The Spanish fleet, having shrouded their approach by reason of the island, were now so soon at hand as our ships had scarce time to weigh their anchors, but some of them were driven to let slip their cables and set sail. Sir Richard Grenville was the last weighed, to recover the men that were upon the island, which otherwise had been lost. The Lord Thomas with the rest very hardly recovered the wind, which Sir Richard Grenville not being able to do, was persuadeds by the master and others to cut his mainsail and cast? about, and to trust to the sailing of his ship: for the After many interchanged volleys of great squadron of Seville were on his weather bow. ordinance and small shot, the Spaniards delib But Sir Richard utterly refused to turn from erated to enter the Revenge, and made divers the enemy, alleging that he would rather choose attempts, hoping to force her by the multitudes to die, than to dishonor himself, his country, of their armed soldiers and musketeers, but and her Majesty's ship, persuading his com- were still repulsed again and again, and at all pany that he would pass through the two 8 kept close to the wind sibly high-carved or built) 10 came alongside (from behind) 11 could shoot of 9 Or cargued (a nautic- times beaten back into their own ships or into the seas. In the beginning of the fight, the George Noble of London, having received some shot through her by the armados, fell under the lee of the Revenge, and asked Sir Richard what he would command him, being but one of the victuallers and of small force. Sir Richard bade him save himself, and leave him to his fortune. After the fight had thus without intermission continued while the day lasted and some hours of the night, many of our men were slain and hurt, and one of the great galleons of the Armada and the admiral of the Hulks13 both sunk, and in many other of the Spanish ships great slaughter was made. Some write that Sir Richard was very dangerously hurt almost in the beginning of the fight, and lay speechless for a time ere he recovered. But two of the Revenge's own company brought home in a ship of lime from the islands, examined by some of the Lords and others, affirmed that he was never so wounded as that he forsook the upper deck, till an hour before midnight; and then being shot into the body with a musket, as he was a-dressing14 was again shot into the head, and withal his chirurgeon15 wounded to death. This agreeth also with an examination, taken by Sir Francis Godolphin, of four other mariners of the same ship being returned, which examination the said Sir Francis sent unto master William Killigrew, of her Majesty's Privy Chamber. But to return to the fight, the Spanish ships which attempted to board the Revenge, as they were wounded and beaten off, so always others came in their places, she having never less than two mighty galleons by her sides and aboard her. So that ere the morning from three of the clock the day before, there had fifteen several armados assailed her; and all so ill approved their entertainment, as they were by the break of day far more willing to hearken ⚫to a composition16 than hastily to make any more assaults or entries. But as the day increased, so our men decreased; and as the light grew more and more, by so much more grew our discomforts. For none appeared in sight but enemies, saving one small ship called the Pilgrim, commanded by Jacob Whiddon, who hovered all night to see the success;17 but in the morning, bearing with the Revenge, was hunted like a hare among many ravenous hounds, but escaped. All the powder of the Revenge to the last barrel was now spent, all her pikes broken, forty of her best men slain, and the most part of the rest hurt. In the beginning of the fight she had but one hundred free from sickness, and fourscore and ten sick, laid in hold upon the ballast. A small troop to man such a ship, and a weak garrison to resist so mighty an army! By those hundred all was sustained, the volleys, boardings, and enterings of fifteen ships of war, besides those which beat her at large. On the contrary the Spanish were always supplied with soldiers brought from every squadron, all manner of arms and powder at will. Unto ours there remained no comfort at all, no hope, no supply either of ships, men, or weapons; the masts all beaten overboard, all her tackle cut asunder, her upper work altogether razed; and, in effect, evened she was with the water, but18 the very foundation or bottom of a ship, nothing being left overhead either for flight or defence. Sir Richard finding himself in this distress, and unable any longer to make resistance, having endured in this fifteen hours' fight the assault of fifteen several armados, all by turns aboard him, and by estimation eight hundred shot of great artillery, besides many assaults and entries, and that himself and the ship must needs be possessed by the enemy, who were now cast in a ring round about him, the Revenge not able to move one way or other but as she was moved by the waves and billows of the sea,-commanded the master gunner, whom he knew to be a most resolute man, to split and sink the ship, that thereby nothing might remain of glory or victory to the Spaniards, seeing in so many hours' fight, and with so great a navy, they were not able to take her, having had fifteen hours' time, fifteen thousand men, and fifty and three sail of men-of-war to perform it withal; and persuaded the company, or as many as he could induce, to yield themselves unto God, and to the mercy of none else, but, as they had, like valiant resolute men, repulsed so many enemies, they should not now shorten the honor of their nation by prolonging their own lives for a few hours or a few days. The master gunner readily condescended,19 and divers others. But the Captain and the Master were of another opinion and besought Sir Richard to have care of them, alleging that the Spaniard would be as ready to entertain a composition as they were willing to offer the same, and that there being divers sufficient and valiant men yet living, and whose wounds were not mortal, they might do their country and prince acceptable service hereafter. And (that 18 nothing but 19 agreed |