The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
determine again of the manner of her stealing away; to no less comfort
to Basilius, who the sooner she was asleep, the sooner hoped to come
by his long pursued prey. Thus both were bent to deceive each other,
and to take the advantage of either other’s disadvantage. But Gynecia
having taken Zelmane into her bed-chamber, to speak a little with her
of their sweet determination; Zelmane upon a sudden, as though she had
never thought of it before. “Now the Gods forbid,” said she, “so great
a lady as you are should come to me; or that I should leave it to the
hands of fortune, if by either the ill-governing of your passion, or
your husband’s sudden waking, any danger might happen unto you: no, if
there be any superiority in the points of true love, it shall be
yours; if there be any danger, since myself am the author of this
device, it is reason it should be mine. Therefore do you but leave
with me the keys of the gate, and upon yourself take my upper garment,
that if any of Dametas’s house see you they may think you be myself,
and I will presently lie down in your place, so muffled for your
supposed sickness, as the king shall nothing know me. And then as soon
as he is asleep, will I, as it much better becomes me, wait upon you.
But if the uttermost of mischiefs should happen, I can assure you the
king’s life shall sooner pay for it than your honour.” And with the
ending of her words she threw off her mantle, not giving Gynecia any
space to take the full image of this new change into her fancy. But
seeing no ready objection against it in her heart, and knowing that
there was no time then to stand long disputing; besides remembering
the giver was to order the manner of his gift, yielded quickly to this
conceit, indeed not among the smallest causes tickled thereunto by a
certain wanton desire that her husband’s deceit might be the more
notable. In this sort did Zelmane nimbly disarraying herself, possess
Gynecia’s place hiding her head in such a close manner, as grievous
and over watched sickness is wont to invite to itself the solace of
sleep. And of the other side the queen putting on Zelmane’s outmost
apparel, went first into her closet, there quickly to beautify herself
with the best and sweetest night-deckings. But there casting an hasty
eye over her precious things, which ever since Zelmane’s coming, her
head otherwise occupied, had left unseen, she happened to see a bottle
of gold, upon which down along were graved these verses:
Let him drink this, whom long in arms to fold
Thou dost desire, and with free power to hold.
She remembered the bottle, for it had been kept of long time by the
kings of Cyprus, as a thing of rare virtue, and given to {493} her by
her mother, when she being very young married to her husband of much
greater age, her mother persuaded it was of property to force love
with love effects, had made a precious present of it to this her
beloved child, though it had been received rather by tradition to have
such a quality than by any approved experiment. This Gynecia
(according to the common disposition, not only, though especially of
wives, but of all other kinds of people, not to esteem much one’s own,
but to think the labour lost employed about it) had never cared to
give her husband, but suffered his affection to run according to his
own scope. But now that love of her particular choice had awakened her
spirits, and perchance the very unlawfulness of it had a little blown
the coal, among her other ornaments with glad mind she took most part
of this liquor, putting it into a fair cup all set with diamonds: for
what dares not love undertake armed with the night, and provoked with
lust? And thus down she went to the cave-ward, guided only by the
moon’s fair shining, suffering no other thought to have any
familiarity with her brains, but that which did present under her a
picture of her approaching contentment. She that had long disdained
this solitary life her husband had entered into, now wished it much
more solitary, so she might only obtain the private presence of
Zelmane. She that before would not have gone so far, especially by
night, and to so dark a place, now took a pride in the same courage,
and framed in her mind a pleasure out of the pain itself. Thus with
thick doubled paces she went to the cave, receiving to herself, for
her first contentment, the only lying where Zelmane had done; whose
pillow she kissed a thousand times, for having born the print of that
beloved head. And so keeping with panting heart her travelling fancies
so attentive that the wind could stir nothing, but that she stirred
herself, as if it had been the space of the longed for Zelmane, she
kept her side of the bed, descending only and cherishing the other
side with her arms, till after a while waiting, counting with herself
how many steps were betwixt the lodge and the cave, and of accusing
Zelmane of more curious stay than needed, she was visited with an
unexpected guest.
For Basilius, after his wife was departed to her feigned repose, as
long as he remained with his daughter, to give his wife time of
unreadying herself, it was easily seen it was a very thorny abode he
made there: and the discourses with which he entertained his daughter,
not unlike to those of earnest players, when in the midst of their
game, trifling questions be put unto them, his eyes still looking
about, and himself still changing places, beginning to speak of a
thing, and breaking it off before it were half done. To any speech
Philoclea ministered unto him, {494} with a sudden starting and
casting up his head, made an answer far out of all grammar; a certain
deep musing, and by and by out of it: uncertain motions, unstayed
graces. Having borne out the limit of a reasonable time, with as much
pain as might be, he came darkling into his chamber, forcing himself
to tread as softly as he could. But the more curious he was, the more
he thought everything creaked under him; and his mind being out of the
way with another thought, and his eyes not serving his turn in that
dark place, each coffer or cupboard he met, one saluted his shins,
another his elbows; sometimes ready in revenge to strike them again
with his face. Till at length, fearing his wife were not fully asleep,
he came lifting up the clothes as gently as I think poor Pan did,
when, instead of Ioles’s bed, he came into the rough embracing of
Hercules; and laying himself down, as tenderly as a new bride, rested
a while with a very open ear, to mark each breath of his supposed
wife. And sometimes he himself would yield a long-fetched sigh, as
though that had been a music to draw on another to sleep, till within
a very little while, with the other party’s well-counterfeit sleep,
who was as willing to be rid of him as he was to be gone thence,
assuring himself he left all safe there, in the same order stole out
again, and putting on his night gown, with much groping and scrambling
he got himself out of the little house, and then did the moonlight
serve to guide his feet. Thus, with a great deal of pain, did Basilius
go to her whom he fled, and with much cunning left the person for whom
he had employed all his cunning. But when Basilius was once gotten, as
he thought, into a clear coast, what joy he then made, how each thing
seemed vile in his sight, in comparison of his fortune, how far
already he deemed himself in the chief towers of his desires, it were
tedious to tell: once his heart could not choose but yield this song,
as a fairing of his contentment.
Get hence, foul grief, the canker of the mind:
Farewell complaint, the miser’s only pleasure.
Away vain cares, by which few men do find
Their sought-for treasure.
Ye helpless sighs, blow out your breath to nought,
Tears drown yourselves, for woe, your cause is wasted;
Thought, think to end, too long the fruit of thought
My mind hath tasted.
But thou, sure hope, tickle my leaping heart:
Comfort, step thou in place of wonted sadness,
Fore-felt desire, begin to favour part
Of coming gladness.
{495}
Let voice of sighs into clear music run;
Eyes, let your tears with gazing now be mended,
Instead of thought, true pleasure be begun,
And never ended.
Thus imagining as then with himself, his joys so held him up, that he
never touched ground. And like a right old beaten soldier, that knew
well enough the greatest captains do never use long orations, when it
comes to the very point of execution, as soon as he was gotten into
the cave, to the joyful, though silent, expectation of Gynecia, come
close to the bed, never recking his promise to look for nothing but
conference, he leaped in that side reserved for a more welcome guest.
And laying his loving’st hold upon Gynecia: “O Zelmane,” said he,
“embrace in your favour this humble servant of yours: hold within me
my heart, which pants to leave his master to come unto you.” In what
case poor Gynecia was, when she knew the voice, and felt the body of
her husband, fair ladies, it is better to know by imagination than
experience. For straight was her mind assaulted, partly with the being
deprived of her unquenched desire, but principally with the doubt that
Zelmane had betrayed her to her husband, besides the renewed sting of
jealousy, what in the meantime might befall her daughter. But of the
other side her love with a fixed persuasion she had taught her to seek
all reason of hopes. And therein thought best before discovering of
herself, to mark the behaviour of her husband; who, both in deeds and
words still using her, as taking her to be Zelmane, made Gynecia hope
that this might be Basilius’s own enterprise, which Zelmane had not
stayed, lest she should discover the matter which might be performed
at another time. Which hope accompanied with Basilius’s manner of
dealing, he being at that time fuller of livelier fancies than many
years before he had been, besides the remembrance of her daughter’s
sickness, and late strange countenance betwixt her and Zelmane, all
coming together into her mind, which was loth to condemn itself of an
utter overthrow, made her frame herself, not truly with a sugared joy,
but with a determinate patience to let her husband think he had found
a very gentle and supple-minded Zelmane; which he good man making full
reckoning of, did melt in as much gladness as she was oppressed with
divers ungrateful burdens.
But Pyrocles, who had at this present no more to play the part of
Zelmane, having so naturally measured the manner of his breathing,
that made no doubt of his sound sleeping, and lain a pretty while with
the quiet unquietness to perform his intended enterprise, as soon as
by the debate between Basilius’s shins and the unregarding forms, he
perceived that he had fully left the {496} lodge: after him went he
with his stealing steps, having his sword under his arm, still
doubting lest some mischance might turn Basilius back again, down to
the gate of the lodge. Which not content to lock fast, he barred and
fortified with as many devices, as his wit and haste would suffer him,
that so he might have full time both for making ready Philoclea, and
conveying her to her horse, before any might come in to find them
missing. For further ends of those ends, and what might ensue of this
action, his love and courage well-matched never looked after, holding
for an assured ground, that “whatsoever in great things will think to
prevent all objections must lie still and do nothing.” This
determination thus weighed, the first part was thus performed, up to
Philoclea’s chamber door when Pyrocles, rapt from himself with the
excessive fore-feeling of his, as he assured himself, near-coming
contentment. Whatever pains he had taken, what dangers he had run