The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
loved alive, and undoubtedly would have wished him no better success
than he had. Yea the very thing which before might have most
discontented him, did then most content him; having his judgment
confirmed by the like, in one of such worth.
After that, laid down in one bed together, friendship making them
free, and solitariness bold, whilst their minds began to be delivered
of all, wherewith they had a long time travelled, a maid came to the
door, sent by the two sisters, to visit Zelmane, who hearing two,
where she expected but one, and the one by the manner of his speech
likely to be a man, did presently return, and reported to the ladies,
who were lying together, that whereof her ears had given her
sufficient assurance. At which news Pamela, burning within, sparkled
forth these words to her sister: “What wonder though strangers ever
wandering, wander from all things. Chiefly those of our sex, who being
born to be bounded within houses, when they cannot be bounded within
kingdoms, how can they be bounded by modesty? Yet, though I hate the
deed, the respect of the doer, but more of us whose company she hath
haunted, left her reproach, by the commentary of fame, be too largely
extended, binds me to conceal her shame, that {444} we blush not at
it. But we must either free ourselves from her, or she herself from
this slander.”
“Oh,” but answered the ever (and now more than ever) mild Philoclea,
“we must not, sister, rashly condemn those whom we have oftentimes
considerately approved, lest the change be in our judgment, and not in
them. No doubt, because of the indisposition of her body, it was
necessary that she should have someone to accompany her; perchance a
woman mistaken, and if a man, who knows for what end? She, who being
sound would acquaint herself with none, in this estate could not be
acquainted with any.”
“It is an easy matter,” replied Pamela, “for one who can deceive to
dissemble; neither is this a new acquaintance. You might have seen her
use that knight who did come in with her, rather kindly than
courteously; a preceding friendship overpassing present respects: for
where a great familiarity is, no ceremonial duty can be observed.”
Then Philoclea, having found her, could hardly restrain the violence
of a just laughter. “As for that which you affirm last,” said she, “I
cannot deny it: no, I dare assure you, and assure yourself I will
assure nothing without assurance, that knight is the man of the world
whom Zelmane most dearly loves, and yet I know, that neither would he
offer nor she suffer her honour to be wronged, as you imagine.” This
last wound was too deep for Pamela to speak after it: so that she,
abandoning her heart to throw itself over the rock of unkindness, in
danger to be drowned with her own tears, was thus prevented by
Philoclea: “Dear sister, and if any word can express more dearness
more dear than that, your using me not only as a sister, but as a
friend in the highest degree of trust, would make me ashamed to
mistrust you, or that you should be beholden to any other than to me
for my secret. So might my strangeness justify your unkindness, though
you should discover and condemn that which I know you will conceal,
perchance approve, and further being by my imparting of it to you,
made of the party, ere the report of others make you a judge; be bold
my tongue: though my cheeks blush, yet they cover you. Be not ashamed,
nay even glory to tell that Zelmane is the prince Pyrocles: he, whom
you have heard so oft, yet ever to his honour named; and, to define
him unto you more particularly, the friend of Musidorus, over whom
with him you are jealous; they lying now in one bed, with no less love
than I told you. Why he goes disguised with others, and why I am plain
with you I need not tell; you may imagine. One God hath metamorphosed
both, the one in a shepherd, the other in a woman; and we only can
restore them to themselves, and themselves to the world, that they may
grace it with the glory of their actions as they were wont to do.”
{445}
Then Philoclea, exchanging estates with her sister, words arrested by
thoughts, she became sad, and the other joyful; who thinking herself
well revenged of the past scorn, and having a sufficient pledge of her
sister’s secrecy, began to complain of their father’s strict using of
them, by surmisings of his own minding to mar their fortunes, so that
where he should rejoice at such an occasion, if coming to the
knowledge thereof, he would not fail to disappoint it, perchance with
the ruin of the princes; which would not only prove a particular loss
for them, but, which she lamented more, a general loss for all the
world; depriving it of these patterns of virtue, who in all their
actions did but point out the height of perfection, and encourage
others to follow their footsteps in the way of worth. Therefore it
behoved them to regard themselves, and seriously to consider a matter
of so great importance. Then, both beginning to muse, night did cast
the nets of sleep over their eyes, yet could not hinder their earnest
thoughts from prosecuting the course of their own fancies: for what
they were thinking when waking, they still dreamed when sleeping.
But ere the morning star began to retire, as giving place to a greater
light, whose coming, it, as a forerunner, had only warned the world to
attend, both awaked complaining of the night’s length, and having with
passionate discourses worn away darkness, as weary of them, they arose
and hastily apparelled themselves, though not in a curious, yet in a
comely manner. Then, with a pretended charity, they would needs go
visit the diseased patient, being themselves impatient. A little
before their coming, Musidorus being gone to give order for the burial
of Philisides, and, at the earnest desire of Pyrocles, of Anaxius,
whose valour now had the full praise, from which his own presumption
had derogated much whilst he lived: as they approached to his chamber
door, they heard Pyrocles preparing his voice for the convoy of a
sadly conceived, and weakly delivered song, which they resolved not to
interrupt, attending the letter which followed.
More dangerous darts than death, love throws I spy,
Who by experience now know both their wounds:
Death pierc’d me all, yet could not make me die:
Love with a thought me in effect confounds.
The power of death, art sometimes may restrain,
Where love, I find, can never physic find:
Death only plagues the body but with pain,
Where love with pleasure doth torment the mind.
Death still to all alike none free doth leave;
Where partial love shafts but at some doth send:
{446}
Death with more mercy kills than love doth save:
Death’s end breeds rest, love never rests to end.
Death doth enlarge, where love imprisons still;
Death forc’d by fates; love willingly doth kill.
As soon as this song was ended, Pamela opened the door, saluting him
still (so to disguise her knowledge) by the name of Zelmane; and asked
in what estate she was with herself, who returned this answer; “How
can I smart having such angels to give me comfort? Or how can I feel
pain in their presence, whose faces are heavens of pleasure?” “Since,”
said Pamela, “being only unfortunate by falling in our company, the
hazard of your life hath procured our liberty, so that accidentally,
though far from our intention, we have been the causes of all your
trouble, how can we think of your pain, but as of our own? Or have any
delight whilst you rest grieved?” “Wonders of worth,” said Zelmane, “I
shall ever, whilst I live, reckon for my highest happiness my being
honoured by your company; and as for my travels in this, they are by
the success abundantly rewarded, since I could aspire to no higher
good than I have compassed, having purchased you any contentment.”
Whilst that passionate Zelmane, with an animated fervency, did
incorporate her hand with Philoclea’s, whose speaking looks, however
some time out of modesty obliquely moving, had a continual revolution
about his face; the black knight’s coming in drew Pamela’s spirits
from her thoughts to her eyes. A gentleman followed him, directed from
Basilius; who after his duty done to the ladies, having shown them
that their father and mother were in good health, invited by their
enquiring attendants, told how the first, whom prodigal fame had
breathed forth with news, hastened by himself, as who carried an
acceptable message in hope of benefit or thanks, certified the king
how the castle was won, and his daughters delivered by the black
knight, who before had put a period to the victories of Amphialus. At
this Pamela looking on Musidorus, blushed; and he, though by no
gesture betraying his joy, rejoiced, not because he heard himself
praised, but because she heard him praised, and that Anaxius in a
single combat was killed by Zelmane, she not long over-living the
victory.
The king hearing this, who of his gracious nature would rather save
one friend than destroy all his enemies, as if the delivery of his
daughters had been a matter of small moment, and a gain too light to
counterpoise so great a loss, did abandon his soul to the tyranny of
sorrow, even more than majesty in a prince, or virtue in affliction,
in the balances of reason, would have allowed of such weight. At this
Zelmane’s smile was accompanied with Philoclea’s. {447} But when he
spoke of Gynecia’s griefs overgrowing the other, they grew pale, being
afraid of the fountain from whence her tears did flow, lest it should
drown them.
But whilst Gynecia (the messenger insisted) as run mad with anguish,
enclosed in a chamber, would suffer none to come unto her; all
wondered that her children being safe, a stranger’s death, or her
husband’s grief, could weaken the known strength of her mind so much.
The next messenger came, being the latter, and thereby the better
informed, who sugared the first news with the assurance of Zelmane’s
safety. Then the queen coming forth as after a great tempest, the sky
of her countenance cleared, looking brighter than before. The king
would have come himself here in person, but he was persuaded to send
Philanax with a number of chosen men, to receive the castle and
ladies; eftsoons being curious to know who cured Zelmane; when it was
told him that the knight who won the castle would trust none with that
save himself, he was sorry that one of his worth should be put to such
trouble, and would needs have an ordinary surgeon sought out to
undertake the charge. “In the meantime the queen came and brought out
of a box a sovereign balm, which she hath sent by me to be applied to
your wounds, fair Zelmane, not doubting but they will quickly become
sound if her direction be observed, which is only that you rest and
keep yourself quiet from company now, and by the way till she herself
may use other remedies. And for this effect she entreats you, miracles
of nature, her daughters, to forbear her company during this time:
that your example, whose authority abused might embolden the
indiscretion of inferiors, may be a law for others: and she assured me
that she would by a secret spy learn how she were obeyed in this. Such
a care hath she of this sweet lady’s health.”
By the end of this commission well did Zelmane and Philoclea know at
whom in particular those general injunctions did only aim. This
enjoined abstinence did give Zelmane a surfeit in sorrow, who had
rather have continued still infirm, than to have recovered by so cruel
a physic. And yet her misery was multiplied when she remembered the
cause, whereof this, in respect of that which she did expect, was a
slender issue, and but a little fury, sent to afflict her out of that
hell of Gynecia’s breast, into whose company she was shortly to enter.