After Sir Philip Sidney was wounded near the walls of Zetphen, the horse
he rode upon being rather furiously choleric than bravely proud, forced
him to forsake the field, but not his back, as the noblest and fittest
bier to carry a martial commander to his grave. In this sad progress,
passing along by the rest of the army, where his uncle, Robert, earl of
Leicester, the general, was, and being thirsty with excess of bleeding,
he called for drink, which was presently brought him. But, as he was
putting the bottle to his mouth, he saw a poor soldier carried along,
who had been wounded at the same time, ghastly casting up his eyes at
the bottle: sir Philip perceiving this, took it from his head, before
drinking, and delivered it to the poor man, with these words: “THY
NECESSITY IS YET GREATER THAN MINE.”
This generous behaviour of the gallant knight ought not to pass without
a penegyric. All his deeds of bravery, his politeness, his learning, his
courtly accomplishments, do not reflect so much honour upon him, as this
one disinterested and truly heroic action. It discovered so tender and
benevolent a nature: a mind so fortified against pain; a heart so
overflowing with generous sentiments to relieve, in opposition to the
violent call of his own necessities, a poor man languishing in the same
distress, before himself, that none can read it without the highest
admiration. Bravery is often constitutional: fame may be the motive to
seats of arms; a statesman and a courtier may act from interest; but a
sacrifice so generous as this, can be made by none but those who are
good as well as great; who are noble minded, and gloriously
compassionate, like Sidney.
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