The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
“But,” said he, “for the death of these same,” pointing to the
princesses, “of my grace I give them life.” And withal going to
Pamela, and offering to take her by the chin, “And as for you,
minion,” said he, “yield but gently to my will, and you shall not only
live, but live so happily:” he would have said further, when Pamela,
displeased both with words, matter and manner, putting him away with
her fair hand; “proud beast,” said she, “yet thou playest worse thy
comedy, than thy tragedy. For my part, assure thyself, since my
destiny is such, that each moment my life and death stand in equal
balance, I had rather have thee, and think thee far fitter to be my
hangman, than my husband.” Pride and anger would fain have cruelly
revenged so bitter an answer, but already Cupid had begun to make it
his sport to pull his plumes: so that unused to a way of courtesy, and
put out of his bias of pride, he hastily went away, grumbling to
himself: between threatening and wishing; leaving his brothers with
them: the elder of whom Lycurgus, liked Philoclea, and Zoilus would
needs love Zelmane, or at least entertain themselves with making them
believe so. Lycurgus more bragged, and near his brother’s humour,
began, with setting forth their blood, their deeds, how many they had
despised of most excellent women; how much they were bound to them,
that would seek that of them. In sum, in all his speeches, more like
the bestower than the desirer of felicity. Whom it was an excellent
pastime, to those that would delight in the play of virtue, to see
with what a witty ignorance she would not understand: and how
acknowledging his perfections, she would make that one of his
perfections, not to be injurious to ladies. But when he knew not how
to reply, then {419} would he fall to touching and toying, still
viewing his graces in no glass but self-liking. To which Philoclea’s
shamefacedness and humbleness were as strong resisters as choler and
disdain: for though she yielded not, he thought she was to be
overcome: and that thought a while stayed him from further violence.
But Zelmane had eye to his behaviour, and set it in her memory upon
the score of revenge, while she herself was no less attempted by
Zoilus; who less fond of brags was forwardest in offering, indeed,
dishonourable violence.
But when after their fruitless labours they had gone away, called by
their brother, who began to be perplexed between new conceived
desires, and disdain to be disdained, Zelmane, who with most assured
quietness of judgment looked into their present estate, earnestly
persuaded the two sisters, that to avoid the mischiefs of proud
outrage, they would only so far suit their behaviour to their estates,
as they might win time, which, as it could not bring them to worse
case than they were, so it might bring forth unexpected relief. “And
why,” said Pamela, “shall we any longer flatter adversity? why should
we delight to make ourselves any longer balls to injurious fortune,
since our own parents are content to be tyrants over us, since our own
kin are content traitorously to abuse us? certainly in mishap it may
be some comfort to us that we are lighted in these fellows’ hands, who
yet will keep us from having cause of being miserable by our friend’s
means. Nothing grieves me more than that you, noble lady Zelmane, to
whom the world might have made us able to do honour, should receive
only hurt by the contagion of our misery. As for me and my sister,
undoubtedly it becomes our birth to think of dying nobly, while we
have done or suffered nothing which might make our soul ashamed at the
parture from these bodies. Hope is the fawning traitor of the mind,
while under colour of friendship it robs it of his chief force of
resolution.” “Virtuous and fair lady,” said Zelmane, “What you say is
true, and that truth may well make up a part in the harmony of your
noble thoughts. But yet the time, which ought always to be one, is not
tuned for it, while that may bring forth any good, do not bar yourself
thereof: for then will be the time to die nobly, when you cannot live
nobly.” Then so earnestly she persuaded with them both, to refer
themselves to their father’s consent, in obtaining whereof they knew
some while would be spent, and by that means to temper the minds of
their proud wooers; that in the end Pamela yielded to her, because she
spoke reason, and Philoclea yielded to her reason, because she spoke
it.
And so when they were again solicited in that little pleasing
petition, Pamela forced herself to make answer to Anaxius, that if
{420} her father gave his consent she would make herself believe, that
such was the heavenly determination, since she had no means to avoid
it. Anaxius who was the most frank promiser to himself of success,
nothing doubted of Basilius’s consent, but rather assured himself, he
would be his orator in that matter; and therefore he chose out an
officious servant, whom he esteemed very wise, because he never found
him but just of his opinion, and willed him to be his ambassador to
Basilius, and to make him know, that if he meant to have his daughters
both safe and happy, and desired himself to have such a son-in-law, as
would not only protect him in his quiet course, but, if he listed to
accept it, would give him the monarchy of the world, that then he
should receive Anaxius, who never before knew what it was to pray
anything. That if he did not, he would make him know that the power of
Anaxius was in everything beyond his will, and yet his will not to be
resisted by any other power. His servant, with smiling and cast-up
look, desired God to make his memory able to contain the treasure of
that wise speech: and therefore besought him to repeat it again, that
by the oftener hearing it his mind might be the better acquainted with
the divineness thereof; and that being graciously granted he then
doubted not by carrying with him in his conceit the grace wherewith
Anaxius spoke it, to persuade rocky minds to their own harm; so little
doubted he to win Basilius to that, which he thought would make him
think the heavens opened when he heard but the proffer thereof.
Anaxius gravely allowed the probability of his conjecture; and
therefore sent him away, promising him he should have the bringing up
of his second son by Pamela.
The messenger with speed performed his lord’s commandment to Basilius;
who by nature quiet, and by superstition made doubtful, was loth to
take any matter of arms in hand, wherein already he had found so slow
success; though Philanax vehemently urged him thereunto, making him
see that his retiring back did encourage injuries. But Basilius,
betwixt the fear of Anaxius’s might, the passion of his love, and
jealousy of his estate, was so perplexed, that not able to determine,
he took the common course of men, to fly only then to devotion, when
they want resolution: therefore detaining the messenger with delays,
he deferred the directing of his course to the counsel of Apollo,
which because himself at that time could not go well to require, he
entrusted the matter to his best trusted Philanax; who, as one in whom
obedience was a sufficient reason unto him, went with diligence to
Delphos, where being entered into the secret place of the temple, and
having performed the sacrifices usual, the spirit that possessed the
prophesying woman, with a sacred fury attended not his {421} demand,
but as if it would argue him of incredulity, told him, not in dark
wonted speeches, but plainly to be understood, what he came for, and
that he should return to Basilius, and will him to deny his daughters
to Anaxius and his brothers; for that they were reserved for such as
were better beloved of the Gods, that he should not doubt, for they
should return unto him safely and speedily; and that he should keep on
his solitary course till both Philanax and Basilius fully agreed in
the understanding of the former prophecy: withal commanding Philanax
from thence forward to give tribute, but not oblation to human wisdom.
Philanax then finding that reason cannot show itself more reasonable
than to leave reasoning in things above reason, returns to his lord,
and like one that preferred truth before the maintaining of an
opinion, hid nothing from him, nor from thenceforth durst any more
dissuade him from that which he found by the celestial providence
directed; but he himself looking to repair the government, as much as
in so broken an estate by civil dissention he might, and fortifying
with notable art both the lodges, so that they were almost made
unapproachable, he left Basilius to bemoan the absence of his
daughters, and to bewail the imprisonment of Zelmane: yet wholly given
holily to obey the oracle, he gave a resolute negative unto the
messenger of Anaxius, who all this while had waited for it; yet in
good terms desiring him to show himself in respect of his birth and
profession, so princely a knight, as without forcing him to seek the
way of force, to deliver in noble sort these ladies unto him, and so
should the injury have been by Amphialus, and the benefit in him.
The messenger went back with this answer, yet having ever used to
sugar anything which his master was to receive, he told him, that when
Basilius first understood his desires, it did over-reach so far all
his most hopeful expectations that he thought it were too great a
boldness to hearken to such a man, in whom the heavens had such
interest, without asking the God’s counsel; and therefore had sent his
principal counsellor to Delphos, who although he kept the matter ever
so secret, yet his diligence inspired by Anaxius’s privilege over all
worldly things, had found out the secret, which was, that he should
not presume to marry his daughter to one who already was enrolled
among the demi-gods, and yet much less he should dare the attempting
to take them out of his hands.
Anaxius, who till then had made fortune his creator, and force his
god, now began to find another wisdom to be above, that judged so
rightly of him: and where in this time of his servant’s waiting for
Basilius’s resolution, he and his brothers had courted their ladies,
as whom they vouchsafed to have for their wives; he {422} resolved now
to dally no longer in delays, but to make violence his orator, since
he had found persuasions had gotten nothing but answers. Which
intention he opened to his brothers, who having all this while wanted
nothing to take that away but his authority, gave spurs to his
runnings; and, worthy men, neither feeling virtue in themselves, nor
tendering it in others, they went headlong to make that evil consort
of love and force, when Anaxius had word, that from the tower there
were descried some companies of armed men, marching towards the town,
wherefore he gave present order to his servants and soldiers to go to
the gates and walls, leaving none within but himself and his brothers:
his thoughts then so full of their intended prey, that Mars his
loudest trumpet could scarcely have awaked him.
But while he was directing what he would have done, his youngest
brother Zoilus, glad that he had the commission, went in the name of
Anaxius to tell the sisters, that since he had answer from their
father, that he and his brother Lycurgus should have them in what sort
it pleased them, that they would now grant them no longer time, but
presently to determine whether they thought it more honourable comfort
to be compelled or persuaded. Pamela made him answer, that in a matter
whereon the whole state of her life depended, and wherein she had ever
answered she would not lead, but follow her parents’ pleasure, she
thought it reason she should either by letter, or particular
messenger, understand something from themselves, and not have their