The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
this shall not defraud my wrath, nor prevent thy punishment.”
Anaxius, more troubled with these words, than if all the swords of the
enemies had lighted upon him (whom for the highest of all his wishes,
would have but wished her a man, yea an army of men) {431} looked over
his shoulder with an eye burning with disdain, as if one of his looks
might have served to consume a woman, and at the same instant,
uttering his rage another way, with a blow worthy of his arm, he did
cleave one before him through the helmet to the shoulders, making him
so, by being two headed, headless. But seeing Zelmane press near him,
though he hoped for no honour from her, yet to prevent dishonour from
her (shame kindling rage, and rage quenching reason) he commanded
Armagines his nephew, a youth of great valour, to take these foolish
fellows prisoners who durst adventure within that castle without his
leave, and to shut all the gates, that none of them might escape; and
therewith whirling about, and casting a sideward look on Zelmane, made
an imperious sign with a threatening allurement (a disinviting
inviting of her) to follow, which she performed with a countenance
witnessing as great contentment, as ever Venus did to most with Mars;
Mars and Venus at the same time having met within her mind, to make,
though a less loving, yet a more martial meeting.
The crowds of people in their way were quickly dispersed by the
tempestuous breath of Anaxius, so that they had no hindrance: he being
feared of all, and she hated of none. Neither was their solitary
retiring, in respect of their different seeming sex, suspiciously
censured by any: the disdainfulness of their countenance bearing
witness, that they were led by hate to honour, and not by love to the
contrary.
The place appointed by fortune to be famous by the famousness of this
combat, was a back court, which they found out at that time emptied of
inhabitants; the stronger being gone to pursue others, and the weaker
run to hide themselves: mediocrity being no more a virtue, where all
was at height, to make excellency eminent in extremity.
They two came here alone, for they would have no seconds, or rather
were so far first as they could have no seconds, and every one of them
being confident in his own worth could not mistrust another’s. As if
words had been too weak messengers of their wrath, and swords only
worthy to utter their minds, they began with that wherewith they hoped
to end; none of them now could flatter himself so far against the
proof of his own experienced knowledge, as to contemn his fellow.
Anaxius at the first, rioting in rage, and burning with a voluptuous
appetite of blood, did abandon his hands to their accustomed
prodigality, which contrary to the nature of that vice, was hurtful to
the receiver, and profitable for the spender. But Zelmane, well
weighing with whom she had to deal, was more wary in her charges, and
circumspectly managing the treasure {432} of her strength, would not
idly bestow it, but was liberal when occasion offered. It was hard to
say, whether the one was more frank, or the other more thankful: the
guerdon never deferred, oft preventing the gift, above the desire of
the receiver, yet short of the giver’s mind. Their thought, eye, hand,
and foot seemed chained to one motion, as all being tuned by violence,
to make up a harmony in horror. Never was courage better supported by
skill and strength nor skill and strength better accompanied by
courage; the blows of every one of them seemed not only to strive with
the others, but even among themselves, for singularity; the latter
still (by being more observable) seeking to bury the remembrance of
the former.
It seemed that these two were not retired from the battle, but that
the battle was transferred where they were. The eye might well have
taken them to be two, but the ear would never have been persuaded that
so mighty sounds could be sent but from the weapons of a number; the
environing windows with a sad solitariness seemed to bewail their want
of eyes, which defrauded them the entertainment of that delectable
terror, transporting sports.
Anaxius more angry with himself than with his enemy, that he should be
so long in vanquishing, where, when victorious, he would be but
ashamed of the victory, all his active powers being highly bended,
both by choler and courage, he thus discharged his tongue: “What
spiteful god, jealous of my greatness, or envying my glory, hath sent
this devil in a woman’s shape (as a cloud for Juno to Ixion) to mock
me? but all this is one: though thou be a devil in a woman, or all the
devils in one devil, I swear by this blow, I will beat thee hence to
the hells, to the eternal terror of all the dark region;” and with
that lighted on Zelmane with such a huge force, that all she could
procure by the mediation of one of her swords, was, that what was
intended wholly at her head, by the wrying of her body, did but wound
her a little on the shoulder. This was so far from dismaying her, that
it did confirm, increase it could not, her resolution already at a
height: Yet, though not more courage, she pretended more fury,
compassing him about to espy advantages, and oft giving him feigned
alarms, as bragging to make a breach in his breast, advanced her
right-hand sword, which Anaxius beat down, and withal encroached to
usurp a room in her right side: but Zelmane suddenly inclining to the
left, gave him a flat blow with that hand’s sword, which returned back
clad with the spoils of that part of the body which it had forced.
Both thus being already allied by blood, yet did strive for a more
strict affinity: wounds, in regard of their frequency, being no more
respected than blows were before. Though they met in {433} divers
colours, now both were clad in one livery, as most suitable to their
present estate: being servants to one master, and rivals in
preferment. Neither could showers of blood quench the winds of their
wrath, which did blow it forth in great abundance, till faintness
would have fain persuaded both that they were mortal, and though
neither of them by another, yet both overcomable by death. Then
despair came to reinforce the fight, joining with courage, not as a
companion, but as a servant: for courage never grew desperate, but
despair grew courageous; both being resolved, if not conquering, none
of them should survive the other’s conquest, nor owe trophy but to
death.
The greatest grief of the one was to die by a woman; and of the other,
to die as a woman: both in respect of her apparel, and, as she
thought, action; being matched by one man, who had o’ermatched
multitudes of men. At last the great storm of blows being past, she
rested one of her swords on the earth, either forced by faintness, or
intending art, offering a thrust with the other, which Anaxius
perceiving, did speedily repel: and with that (gathering his
distressed strength together, as ready to remove, but first bent to
give a gallant farewell) ran forward with such a violent violence on
Zelmane (nought being able to resist his unresistable force) that she
presently interposing her reposed sword, though it ran him through the
heart, or rather he his heart upon it, it could not hinder him from
running her through the body, and both to the earth, a brave flash of
a dying light! a mighty thunder of a quenched lightning! Thus did he
overthrow his overthrower: not falling till none was able to stand
before him; whilst though he were vanquished, none could vaunt of the
victory. His breast fell above the hand with the sword, as if he would
needs die embracing it, even after death adoring that idol of his
life, and his dead weight striving with Zelmane’s weak life, whilst
she struggling to rise did break the sword, a part remaining under
him, and the rest within her: thus hard it was to force Anaxius,
though he was dead, and impossible while he lived.
Zelmane, after her rising, did draw the other sword out of him, as
bent to return not interested in anything. She was stepping forward
with a sword in each hand, and a part of one in her breast: a trophy
of victory, yet a badge of ruin; never better weaponed, never more
unfit for fighting; when lo all the followers of Anaxius, discomforted
by his absence, but more by the black knight’s presence, Armagines
having his death honoured by his hand, the rest were quickly
discomfited, and, despairing to save the castle, sought to save
themselves.
The black knight committed the following of their flight to others, as
a dangerless action, and therefore not worthy of him; {434} then
fearing that elsewhere for another which he could no more find there
for himself, he went by the direction of his eyes, and the information
of his ears, to seek out the two retired champions, when suddenly he
encountered his other self, marching like Pallas from the giant’s
overthrow.
As soon as the eyes of Pyrocles, no, his soul was ravished with the
sight of Musidorus, it having infused a fresh vigour in his feeble
members, and that physic applied to his mind, triumphing over the
infirmity of his body; he threw away his swords, only conquerable by
kindness, and pulled out that which was in his body, that nothing
might hinder him from embracing the image of his soul, which reflected
his own thoughts. Their souls by a divine sympathy did first join,
preventing the elemental masses of the bodies: but ah! whilst they
were clasped in each other’s arms (like two grafts grafted in one
stock) the high tide of over-flowing affection restraining their
tongues with astonishment, as unable to express an unexpressible
passion.
Pyrocles weakened with the loss of blood, the effects of hate, and in
that weakness surcharged with kindness, the fruits of love, not able
to abide the interchoking of such extremities, the paleness of his
face witnessed the parting of his spirits, so that not able to stand,
Musidorus was forced to fall with him, or else would not stand after
him. And at the suddenness of his unexpected adventure, or vehemently
respectable misadventure; like one (who unawares slipping from a great
height) is choked betwixt the height and the lowness, ere he can
consider, either whence he fell, or where he falls. Being thrown from
the top of contentment, to be drowned in the depths of misery, he had
his reasonable part so hastily overwhelmed with confusion, that he
remained dead alive, as the other was living in death. At last,
re-assembling his confounded senses from the rocks of ruin, grief had
gathered so much strength through weakness, as to attempt an
impossibility in manifesting itself.
“O what a monster of misery am I! even when most fortunate, most
unfortunate, who never had a lightning of comfort, but that it was
suddenly followed with a thunder of confusion. Twice was my felicity
by land (that it might be washed for ever away) made a prey to the
inexorable waves, whilst the relenting destinies pitying the rigour of
their own decrees, to prevent their threatened effects, would have
drowned me in (respecting the ocean of sorrow prepared to swallow me)
that little drop of the sea. And, O thrice happy I, if I had perished
whilst I was altogether unhappy; then, when a dejected shepherd
offensive to the perfection of the world, I could hardly, being
oppressed by contempt, make myself worthy to be disdained, disdain to
be despised, being a degree of grace. {435} O would to God that I had
died obscurely, whilst my life might still have lived famous with
others, and my death have died with myself; whilst my not being known
might have kept my dishonour unknown, even then when matched, matched
by one, and in the presence of many fighting for one who was more dear
to me than all the world. Ah me! most miserable, in not being more