The Countess of Pembroke's Arcadia
of us, as the fault, if any were, was united, so let the punishment be
united also.” There was no man that ever loved either his prince, or
anything pertaining to him, with a truer zeal than Philanax did. This
made him, even to the depth of his heart, receive a most vehement
grief, to see his master made as it were more miserable after death.
And for himself, calling to mind in what sort his life had been
preserved by Philoclea, what time taken by Amphialus, he was like to
suffer a cruel death, there was nothing could have kept him from
falling to all tender pity but the perfect persuasion he had that all
this was joined to the pack of his master’s death, which the
misconceived speech of marriage made him the more believe. Therefore
first muttering to himself such like words: “The violence the
gentleman spoke of, is now turned to marriage: he alleged Mars, but
she speaks of Venus: O unfortunate master! this hath been that fair
devil Gynecia; sent away one of her daughters, prostituted the other,
impoisoned thee, to overthrow the diadem of Arcadia.” But at length
thus unto herself he said: “If your father, Madam, were now to speak
unto, truly there should nobody be found a more ready advocate for you
than myself. For I would suffer this fault, though very great, to be
blotted out of my mind, by your former led life, your benefit towards
myself, and being daughter to such a father. But since among
yourselves you have taken him away, in whom was the only power to have
mercy, you must be clothed in your own working, and look for none
other than that which dead pitiless laws may allot unto you. For my
part, I loved you for your virtue, but now where is that? I loved you
in respect of a private benefit, what is that in comparison of the
public loss? I loved you for your father, unhappy folks you have
robbed the world of him.” These {553} words of her father were so
little understood by the only well-understanding Philoclea, that she
desired him to tell her, what he meant to speak in such dark sort unto
her of her lord and father, whose displeasure was more dreadful unto
her than her punishment: that she was free in her own conscience, she
had never deserved evil of him, no not in this last fact: wherein, if
it pleased him to proceed with patience, he should find her choice had
not been unfortunate. He that saw her words written in the plain table
of her fair face, thought it impossible there should therein be
contained deceit: and therefore so much the more abashed: “Why,” said
he, “Madam, would you have me think, you are not of conspiracy with
the Princess Pamela’s flight, and your father’s death?” With that word
the sweet lady gave a pitiful cry, having straight in her face and
breast abundance of witnesses that her heart was far from any such
abominable consent. “Ah of all sides utterly ruined Philoclea,” said
she, “now indeed I may well suffer all conceit of hope to die in me.
Dear father, where was I that might not do you my last service before,
soon after miserably following you?” Philanax, perceived the
demonstration so lively and true in her that he easily acquitted her
in his heart of that fact, and the more was moved to join with her in
most hearty lamentation. But remembering him, that the burden of the
state, and punishment of his master’s murderers, lay all upon him:
“Well,” said he, “Madam, I can do nothing, without all the states of
Arcadia: what they will determine of you, I know not: for my part your
speeches would much prevail with me, but that I find not how to excuse
your giving over your body to him that for the last proof of his
treason lent his garments to disguise your miserable mother, in the
most vile fact she hath committed. Hard sure will it be to separate
your causes, with whom you have so nearly joined yourself.” “Neither
do I desire it,” said the sweetly weeping Philoclea: “Whatsoever you
determine of him, do that likewise to me, for I know from the fountain
of virtue nothing but virtue could ever proceed, only as you find him
faultless, let him find you favourable, and build not my dishonour
upon surmises.” Philanax, feeling his heart more and more mollifying
unto her, renewed the image of his dead master in his fancy, and using
that for the spurs of his revengeful choler, went suddenly without any
more speech from the desolate lady, to whom now fortune seemed to
threaten unripe death, and undeserved shame among her least evils. But
Philanax leaving good guard upon the lodge, went himself to see the
order of his other prisoners, whom even then as he issued, he found
increased by this unhoped means.
The noble Pamela having delivered over the burden of her fearful
cares, to the natural ease of a well-refreshing sleep, reposed {554}
both mind and body upon the trusted support of her princely shepherd,
when with the braying cries of a rascal company she was robbed of her
quiet, so that at one instant she opened her eyes, and the enraged
Musidorus rose from her, enraged betwixt the doubt, he had what these
men would go about, and the spite he conceived against their
ill-pleasing presence. But the clowns having with their hideous noise
brought them both to their feet, had soon knowledge what guests they
had found, for indeed these were the scummy remnants of those rebels,
whose naughty minds could not trust so much to the goodness of their
prince, as to lay their hangworthy necks upon the constancy of his
promised pardon. Therefore when the rest, who as sheep had but
followed their fellows, so sheepishly had submitted themselves, these
only committed their safety to the thickest part of these desert
woods, who as they were in the constitution of their minds little
better than beasts, so were they apt to degenerate to a beastly kind
of life, having now framed their gluttonish stomachs to have for food
the wild benefits of nature, the uttermost end they had being but to
draw out as much as they could the line of a tedious life. In this
sort vagabonding in those untrodden places, they were guided by the
everlasting justice, using themselves to be punishers of their faults,
and making their own actions the beginning of their chastisements,
unhappily both for him and themselves, to light on Musidorus. Whom as
soon as they saw turned towards them, they full well remembered it was
he, that, accompanied with Basilius, had come to the succour of
Zelmane, and had left among some of them bloody tokens of his valour.
As for Pamela, they had many times seen her. Thus first stirred up
with a rustical revenge against him, and then desire of spoil to help
their miserable wants, but chiefly thinking it was the way to confirm
their own pardon, to bring the princess back unto her father, whom
they were sure he would never have sent so far so slightly accompanied
without any other denouncing of war, set all together upon the worthy
Musidorus. Who being beforehand as much inflamed against them, gave
them so brave a welcome, that the smart of some made the rest stand
further off, crying and prating against him, but like bad curs, rather
barking than closing: he, in the meantime, placing his trembling lady
to one of the pine trees, and so setting himself before her, as might
show the cause of his courage grew in himself, but the effect was only
employed in her defence; the villains that now had a second proof, how
ill-wards they had for such a sword, turned all the course of their
violence into throwing darts and stones, indeed the only way to
overmaster the valour of Musidorus. Who finding them some already
touched, some fall so near his chiefest life Pamela, that in the end
some one or other {555} might hap to do an unsuccourable mischief,
setting all his hope in despair, ran out from his lady among them. Who
straight like so many swine when a hardy mastiff sets upon them,
dispersed themselves. But the first he overtook as he ran away,
carrying his head as far before him, as those manner of runnings are
wont to do, with one blow struck it so clean off, that it falling
betwixt the hands, and the body falling upon it, it made a show as
though the fellow had had great haste to gather up his head again.
Another the speed he made to run for the best game, bare him full butt
against a tree, so that tumbling back with a bruised face, and a
dreadful expectation, Musidorus was straight upon him, and parting
with his sword one of his legs from him, left him to make a roaring
lamentation that his mortar-treading was marred for ever. A third
finding his feet too slow, as well as his hands too weak, suddenly
turned back, beginning to open his lips for mercy. But before he had
well entered a rudely compiled oration, Musidorus’s blade was come
between his jaws into his throat, and so the poor man rested there for
ever with a very evil mouth full of an answer. Musidorus in this
furious chase would have followed some other of these hateful
wretches, but that he heard his lady cry for help, whom three of this
villainous crew had, whilst Musidorus followed their fellows,
compassing about some trees, suddenly come upon and surprised,
threatening to kill her if she cried, and meaning to convey her out of
sight, whilst the prince was making his bloodthirsty chase. But she
that was resolved no worse thing could fall unto her than the being
deprived of him, on whom she had established all her comfort, with a
pitiful cry fetched his eyes unto her: who then thinking so many
weapons thrust into his eyes, as with his eyes he saw bent against
her, made all hearty speed to her succour. But one of them wiser than
his companions, set his dagger to her alabaster throat, swearing if he
threw not away his sword, he would kill her presently. There was never
poor scholar, that having instead of his book some playing toy about
him, did more suddenly cast it from him, at the child-feared presence
of a cruel schoolmaster, than the valiant Musidorus discharged himself
of his only defence, when he saw it stood upon the instant point of
his lady’s life. And holding up his noble hands to so unworthy
audience, “O Arcadians, it is I that have done you the wrong, she is
your princess,” said he, “she never had will to hurt you, and you see
she hath no power. Use your choler upon me that have better deserved
it, do not yourselves the wrong to do her any hurt, which in no time
or place will ever be forgiven you.”
They that yet trusted not to his courtesy, bid him stand further off
from his sword, which he obediently did. So far was love above all
other thoughts in him. Then did they call together the {556} rest of
their fellows, who though they were few, yet according to their
number, possessed many places. And then began these savage senators to
make a consultation what they should do: some wishing to spoil them of
their jewels and let them go on their journey, for that if they
carried them back, they were sure they should have least part of their
prey, others preferring their old homes to anything, desired to bring
them to Basilius as pledges of their surety. And there wanted not
which cried, the safest way was to kill them both; to such an unworthy
thraldom were these great and excellent personages brought. But the
most part resisted to the killing of the princes, foreseeing their
lives would never be safe after such a fact committed: and began to
wish rather the spoil than death of Musidorus: when the villain that
had his leg cut off came crawling towards them, and being helped to
them by one of the company, began with a groaning voice, and a
disfigured face, to demand the revenge of his blood, which since he
had spent with them in their defence, it were no reason he should be
suffered by them to die discontented. The only contentment he required
was, that by their help with his own hands he might put his murderer